Is this a teenage crush…or forever love? Find out in Diana Palmer’s popular story, Eye of the Tiger.

Once upon a time, Eleanor Whitman was a young girl with a crush. She’d offered Keegan Taber her heart on a platter, but he’d made it very clear he didn’t want her. Four years later, Eleanor still hated that memory—and the man behind it. Nevertheless, the sight of Keegan made her, now a woman grown, weak in the knees!

Keegan never forgave himself for the way he’d treated Eleanor. He’d give anything to have her feel that way about him again. But Eleanor had moved on and was with someone else. All Keegan could do was hope that man didn’t put a ring on her finger before he could win Eleanor back…

Dear Reader,

I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Mills & Boon Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.

But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years, I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.

I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Mills & Boon Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.

Thank you for this tribute, Mills & Boon, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.

Diana Palmer

DIANA PALMER

The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com.

Eye of the Tiger

New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Copyright

Chapter One

Eleanor Whitman saw the red Porsche sitting in the driveway and deliberately accelerated past the small shotgun house on the mammoth K. G. Taber farm outside Lexington, Kentucky. She knew the car too well to mistake it, and she knew who would be driving it. Her heart quickened despite all her efforts at control, although she had every reason in the world to hate the car’s owner.

Her slender hands tightened on the steering wheel and she took slow, deep breaths until they stopped trembling, until the apprehension left her huge dark eyes.

She had no idea where she was going as she turned onto a long, calm avenue with big, graceful shade trees down the median. Lexington was like a series of small communities, each with its own personality and neighbors who were like family. Eleanor often wished that she and her father could live in town, instead of on the farm. But the house was theirs rent-free as long as her father lived, a kind of fringe benefit for employees of the elder Taber. Dozens of employees lived on the mammoth farm: carpenters, mechanics, farm laborers, a veterinarian and his assistants, a trainer and his assistants, a black smith…the list went on and on. The farm had two champion racehorses, one a Triple Crown winner, and a prime collection of purebred Black Angus bulls as well. It was a diversified, self-contained property and the Tabers had money to burn.

Eleanor’s father was a carpenter, a good one, and he alternated between repairing existing buildings and helping put up new ones. He’d had a bad fall and broken his hip three months ago—an accident from which he was only just now recovering after extensive physical therapy. And the Tabers had been keeping him on, paying his insurance and all his utilities despite Eleanor’s proud efforts to stop them. They were holding his job open and looking after him like family until he could work again, which the doctors said would be soon. Meanwhile, Eleanor took care of him and petted him and was grateful that the fall hadn’t killed him. He was all she had.

In her teens, Eleanor had loved the big white house with its long, open porches and wide, elegant columns. Most of all, she’d loved Keegan Taber. That had been her downfall. Four years of nursing school in Louisville had matured her, however, and her decision to accept a position at a private hospital in Lexington was a measure of that maturity. Four years ago, she’d succumbed to Keegan’s charm and accepted one tragic date with him, not knowing the real reason he’d asked her out. She’d hated him ever since. She spoke to him only when he was impossible to avoid, and she never went near him. It had taken her a long time to get over what had happened, and she was only now starting to live again.

What puzzled her was that Keegan had been acting oddly ever since her return. He didn’t seem to mind her venomous looks, her dislike. And it didn’t stop him from visiting her father at the house, either. The two men had become close, and Eleanor wondered at the amount of time Keegan had been spending with her father lately. Keegan seemed to have plenty to spare, and that was odd because his business interests were diverse and made many demands on him. Now that his father, Gene Taber, was feeling his age, Keegan had assumed most of the responsibility for the farm. Keegan was an only child, and his mother had died many years before, so there were only the two men at Flintlock, the huge estate with its graceful meadows and white-fenced lushness.

Flintlock had been the site of a miraculous occurrence during the settlement of Kentucky. During a fight between pioneers and Indians, the settlers ran out of water. In a daring act, a pioneer’s wife—some legends said Becky Boone herself, wife of Daniel—led the womenfolk of the encampment down to a bubbling stream to fetch water in their buckets. And, miracle of miracles, the Indians actually held their fire until the women were safely back with their menfolk. There was a historic marker at the site now; it was in the middle of a cattle pasture. Tourists still braved the bulls to read it.

Eleanor drove past that pasture now and remembered going to see it with Keegan long ago. How naive she’d been, how infatuated with him. Well, she was over it now; Keegan had given her the cure. But the experience had almost killed her. Certainly she’d been dead inside for a long, long time. Thanks to Wade, however, she was beginning to feel alive again.

Wade had been invited to the house tonight for the first time to meet her father. Eleanor hoped that Keegan didn’t have any standing plans to visit with Barnett Whitman that evening to play their regular game of chess; she wanted her father and Wade to get to know each other. Keegan, she thought with a flash of irritation, would only be in the way.

Wade Granger had become someone special in her life, she mused, smiling as she recalled their first few meetings. He’d been a patient and had formed an attachment to her, as patients sometimes did to their nurses. She’d laughed off his invitations, thinking he’d get over it when he left the hospital. But he hadn’t. First he’d sent flowers, then candy. And she’d been so shocked at the royal treatment, because he was as wealthy as Keegan, that she’d dropped her guard. And he’d pounced, grinning like a cartoon cat, his dark hair and eyes sparkling with amusement at her astonishment.

“What’s wrong with me?” he’d asked plaintively. “I’m only six years older than you are, eligible, rich, sexy. What more do you want? So I’m a little heavy, so what?”

She’d sighed and tried to explain to him that she and her father weren’t wealthy, that she didn’t think getting involved with him would be a good idea.

“Poppycock,” he’d muttered dryly. “I’m not proposing marriage. I just want you to go out with me.”

She’d given in, but she’d invited him home for a meal instead of accepting his invitation to go nightclubbing. She thought if he saw how she lived, and where, it might cool him off.

He was a nice man, and she liked him. But she didn’t want to get involved. Keegan had cured her of being romantic. Now she knew all too well the consequences of giving her heart, of trusting a man to return her love. She knew how cold the ashes of a love affair could be.

Her father had no idea of the relationship she’d had with Keegan, and she wanted it to stay that way. It had only been one date anyway, one magical night when she’d believed in fairies. What a pity she hadn’t been levelheaded. But she’d been flattered by Keegan’s sudden interest, and she hadn’t questioned it at all. She certainly hadn’t suspected that Keegan was only using her to get back at the woman he really loved. She often wondered what had become of Lorraine Meadows. Petite, blond Lorraine with her Park Avenue tastes and no-expense-spared upbringing. Keegan had announced his engagement to Lorraine the morning after his date with Eleanor. She remembered hearing it and bursting into tears. Keegan had tried to talk to her, and she’d refused to come out of her room. What was there to say, anyway? He’d gotten what he wanted.

But although the engagement made social headlines, less than two months later the couple quietly dropped their marriage plans and went their separate ways. It was incredible to Eleanor, who was in nursing school in Louisville by then. She felt Lorraine would have been the perfect mistress for Flintlock. These days, of course, Lorraine Meadows was never mentioned. Keegan was apparently playing the field now, according to local gossip.

Eleanor drove around for half an hour or so and then went home, thinking Keegan had had plenty of time to finish his business with her father. But he was still there. And she didn’t have the time to avoid him any longer, not with Wade coming at six-thirty. It was four now.

She pulled up at the front steps, behind the classy Porsche, and cut the engine. Nurse’s cap in hand, she walked wearily in the front door and fought down the rush of excitement that seeing Keegan never failed to create.

He was in the living room, sitting across from her father and looking out of place in the worn, faded armchair. He rose as she entered the room, all lean muscle and towering masculinity. There was an inborn arrogance about him that actually rippled the hair at her nape, and he had a way of looking at her with narrowed eyes and a faint smile that brought the blood to her cheeks. His flaming red hair had a slight wave in it, and his eyes were as blue as a summer sky. His cheekbones were high, his features sharp and cutting, his mouth thin and cruel and oddly sensuous. He looked lithe and rangy, but she knew the strength in that slender body. She’d seen farmhands underestimate it, to their cost. She’d underestimated it herself, once. But never again.

“Hello, Keegan,” she said in greeting, her voice calm, confident. She even smiled at him as she bent to kiss her father on the forehead. “Hello, darling, had a nice day?”

“Very nice.” Her father chuckled. “Keegan drove me into Lexington to the therapist. She says in another month I’ll be back on the job.”

“Lovely!” Eleanor laughed.

Keegan was watching her closely, as usual. He got lazily to his feet. “I’ve got to run. Eleanor, your father and I can’t find that last cost estimate he did on building my new barn. Do you know where it is?”

So that was why he’d been here so long. She smiled at her own wild thoughts. “Surely. I’ll get it for you.”

She went into her father’s small study and reached up on a high shelf for the box where he filed his bills and important papers. Her breath caught when she got down to find Keegan lounging in the doorway, his blue eyes narrow and intent on her slender body in its neat white uniform.

“Did I shock you?” he asked with a taunting smile. “It’s been some years since I’ve managed that, hasn’t it, Ellie?”

“I don’t like that nickname,” she said coolly. She avoided his gaze and sat down behind the desk, riffling through her father’s papers until she found the estimate. She pulled it out and extended it toward Keegan.

He jerked away from the doorframe and took it from her. “How long do you plan to hold this grudge against me?” he asked softly. “It’s been years.”

“I have nothing against you, Mr. Taber,” she said innocently.

“Don’t call me that,” he said curtly. “I don’t like it.”

“Why not?” she asked with a bland expression. “You’re the big boss, aren’t you? We live in your house, provide you with entertainment—of all sorts,” she added bitterly, meaningfully.

His thin lips compressed. He rolled the paper in his hands, making a tube of it. He stared at it, then at her. “You came back. Why?”

“Why not?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows mockingly. “Did you expect me to stay away for the rest of my life to spare you embarrassment?”

“You don’t embarrass me,” he said shortly.

“Well, you embarrass me,” she returned, and her brown eyes glared at him. “I hate the memory, and I hate you. Why do you come here?”

“I like your father,” he replied. His chin lifted slightly as he studied her. “He was injured on the job. I’ve been keeping an eye on him since you couldn’t.”

“I know that, and I’m grateful. But he’s almost healed….”

“He plays a good game of chess,” he said. “I like chess,” he added through pursed lips, smiling thoughtfully, and his gaze was thorough and bold.

“You like strategy,” she returned. “I remember all too well what a wonderful manipulator you are, Keegan. You’re great at getting people to do what you want. But not me. Not anymore.”

“You just can’t give me credit for an unselfish motive, can you?”

“Ah, you forget,” she said silkily. “I know all about your motives, don’t I?”

His blue eyes glittered at her like sun-touched sapphires, and his face tautened. “My God, haven’t you ever made a mistake in your unblemished life?”

“Sure. With you, that night,” she replied heatedly. “And the irony of it is that I didn’t even get any pleasure out of it!”

He seemed to go rigid with that accusation, and his face actually colored. “Damn you,” he breathed furiously, crushing the tube in his lean hand.

“Does that rankle? Forgive me for trampling on your vulnerable male pride, but it’s the truth.” She pushed back a wayward lock of her soft, brown hair. “I gave you what I’d been saving all my life for a man I loved, only to find out when it was too late that it was a ruse to make Lorraine jealous, to get her to marry you! Did you ever tell her just how far it went, Keegan Taber?” she demanded, burning up with the years of bitter anguish. “Did you?”

“Lower your voice,” he growled. “Or do you want your father to hear it all?”

“Wouldn’t he have a sterling opinion of you then?” She laughed wildly. “His chess buddy, his idol. He doesn’t know you at all!”

“Neither do you,” he said shortly. “I tried to explain it to you then, and you wouldn’t listen. I’ve tried since, several times. I even wrote you a letter because you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I burned it, unread,” she replied triumphantly. “What could you have told me that I didn’t already know? Lorraine called me herself. She was delighted to tell me all the details….” Her voice broke and she turned away, biting her tongue to keep from crying out, the pain was so fresh. She took a steadying breath and rubbed the back of her neck. “Anyway, as you said, it was all over a long time ago. I’ll even forget it one of these days.” She glanced at his rigid figure. “Wouldn’t you like to go and manage your farm or something? I’ve had a long day, and I still have to cook supper.”

He was silent. She heard him light a cigarette, heard the snap of his lighter as he pocketed it. She thought he’d stopped smoking, but apparently her father hadn’t known that he’d started again.

His voice sounded bleak when he spoke again. “I didn’t realize until afterward how much you cared about me. And by then it was too late to undo the damage.”

“I hope I wore your conscience thin,” she replied. “You can’t imagine what you did to my pride. But at least I didn’t get pregnant.” She managed a laugh, folding her arms over her breasts. “Whatever happened to your intended, by the way? I expected you to drag her to the altar the minute she opened her mouth and said yes.”

“I don’t want to discuss Lorraine!”

Of course he didn’t; he’d loved the socialite to distraction, despite her wearing ways. She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, and went to the doorway.

“If those papers are all you needed, I’ll excuse myself. I have to get my man a decent supper.”

He stared at her, his eyes searching and curious. “Your man?”

Her dark eyes widened. “Shocked? I do realize you think you’re a tough act to follow, but I can’t believe you expected me to moon over you for the rest of my life. Yes, I have a man,” she lied. Well, Wade was a man, and he might be hers someday. “He’s gorgeous and sexy and rich as sin.”

“Rich?” he returned.

“You probably even know him. Wade Granger?”

His face flooded with angry color. “You little fool! He’s what’s known as the crowd Romeo! The only way he hasn’t been caught doing it is hanging from a limb!”

“How erotic!” she murmured, smiling sweetly. “I can hardly wait!”

“Damn you, will you listen to me? He’s just out for a good time!”

“So were you.” Eleanor folded her arms across her breasts. “Go ahead, boss, warn me about the consequences. Lecture me on rich men who look upon less wealthy women as fair game for their unsatisfied desires. You sure ought to know what you’re talking about.”

He looked as if he might blow up any minute, a redheaded stick of dynamite looking for a match. Even his freckles seemed to expand.

“Eleanor…!”

She knew the tone, but it didn’t intimidate her anymore. “Now, don’t get all worked up,” she advised, smiling. “We don’t want your blood pressure shooting up, do we, you poor old thing?”

“I am not old,” he replied through clenched teeth. “I’m barely thirty-five!”

“Oh, but you’re thirteen years older than I am,” she reminded him. “Definitely a different generation,” she added on a sigh, studying him. “Too bad I was too smitten with you four years ago to notice. But I’m all better now. You’ll be relieved to know that I don’t have any inclination to chase after you these days. Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

He didn’t look confident, or enthusiastic or particularly happy. He stared at her for a long time. Then, “Wade is two years older than I am,” he pointed out in a strained tone of voice.

She shrugged. “Yes, but he has a young mind.” She grinned. “And not a bad body, to boot.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “A Romeo, you said? How fascinating. I can’t wait to see how good he is….”

He whirled on his heel and stormed out the door without another word. Eleanor had to smother a giggle. Well, so much for his overbearing arrogance, she thought with a trace of cold pride. At least she could handle herself now; she could protect herself. And she might need that ability, because he had a slightly possessive attitude toward her. She didn’t want that; she didn’t want the risk of running headlong into him again. Part of her remembered too well the vulnerability of loving him. She wouldn’t be that stupid again. And why should he be worried about Wade? It probably irritated him that she might wind up in bed with someone else.

Good, she thought as she went to her room to change. Let him worry. It would be small compensation for the anguish he’d caused her with his manipulations!

She got ready for dinner, dressing in a pair of lavender slacks, a striped crinkle-cloth blouse and sandals. She peeked in the living room on her way to the kitchen.

“Wade’s coming to supper,” she announced, grinning.

“Is he?” her father asked mildly, studying her. He grinned back. “So I finally get to meet him, do I?”

“He won’t take no for an answer.” She laughed. “I gave up.”

“Just as well, the flowers were taking over the house.” He frowned, looking so much like a mirror image of Eleanor except for his silver hair and wrinkles that she smiled. “Did you and Keegan have words?”

Her eyebrows arched. “Why do you ask?”

“He came out looking like a thunderhead, muttered something about a meeting and dashed out. It’s our chess night, you know.”

“Oh, I forgot,” she replied honestly. “I didn’t remember.”

“You don’t pay a lot of attention to him these days, do you? Used to be wild about him, too. I remember how you cried when he got engaged. You went rushing off to nurse’s training in Louisville that same week.” He started to fill his pipe, aware of her sudden color. “I don’t think it’s just to see me that he’s starting hanging around here so much, Eleanor.”

“Well, don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s mad about me,” she replied. “I know better.”

He met her gaze. “He’s been hanging around here longer than you realize,” he replied. “You haven’t noticed.”

“I don’t want to notice. Please don’t play Cupid, darling. Keegan doesn’t interest me that way. Not anymore. Now, Wade,” she murmured dryly, “is another matter.”

“Do you think he’ll keep coming when he sees where we live?” he asked bluntly.

“Of course,” she said with a grin. “He’s no snob.”

He shifted in his rocking chair and set it into motion as he lit his pipe. “I’ll wait and find out for myself, if you don’t mind.”

“If you think we need improvements, ask your friend the farm tycoon,” she told him. “Use your influence.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” he sputtered, glowering at her. “And you might remember that his daddy made his money the hard way. He wasn’t born into money, he earned it. The Taber farm is… Where are you going?”

“I’ve heard this sermon before.” She sighed. “I know all about the Tabers. More than I want to know. I have to get dinner.”

He studied her stiff back. “You could be a little more hospitable to my chess partner,” he told her.

“Oh, I’ll strain a muscle being hospitable, you just watch. I’ll even curtsy when he walks in the door.”

“Don’t get smart,” he grumbled.

“Okay,” she promised. “I’ll treat him with all the respect due his age. After all, I am a mere child by comparison.” She turned and went into the kitchen. “I’m making spaghetti tonight, if that suits you.”

“Suits me fine. Will it suit the snooty dinner guest?”

She glowered at him from the kitchen doorway. “Shame on you. Just because he has money doesn’t make him a snob.”

“Yes, I could say the same thing about Keegan, if you’d listen.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Why do you dislike him so?” he asked unexpectedly, his eyes narrowed.

What could she say to that? Telling him the truth was out of the question, and nothing short of it would convince him. She leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile. “He has freckles,” she whispered. “I hate freckles.”

And while he was laughing at her cheek, she vanished into the kitchen.

Chapter Two

Wade was right on time, and Eleanor met him at the door with a bright smile. She had expected to find him wearing slacks and a shirt, as Keegan frequently did when he visited them. But Wade was wearing a very trendy navy-blue blazer with white slacks and a white shirt and tie, and he looked taken aback by Eleanor’s neat slacks and blouse.

“Sorry, love, am I overdressed?” he asked apologetically, looking briefly uncomfortable, then even more so as his gaze wandered around the hall, taking in its far-from-recent paint job, worn linoleum and single light-bulb hanging bare from the ceiling.

“We’re a little primitive around here,” she said with a faint smile. “The house was given to us rent-free by the Tabers due to the length of my father’s employment here. We tend to forget how it looks, but there’s never been any reason to update it, you see….”

“Was I criticizing?” he said quickly, and smiled to soften the words. “My world is a bit different, but that doesn’t make it better, now does it?” He chuckled.

“No,” she said with a laugh. “You’re a nice man.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He sighed.

She stood back to invite him in, feeling underdressed and underprivileged, even though she knew he hadn’t meant to make her feel that way. “Won’t you come into the living room and meet my father?”

She led him there, swallowing her embarrassment at the shabbiness of their furniture. The living room needed painting, too—why hadn’t she noticed that before now? And the rug— Oh, Lord, it was in rags! She hadn’t paid the slightest attention to the condition of the house since she’d been back. Helping her father since his accident and holding down a full-time job of her own left her just enough time to keep the house clean and neat. And there hadn’t been any company to speak of, except other farm employees who were friends of her father… and Keegan, who never seemed to notice where he was, making himself right at home in castle or hovel alike.

Her father would be wearing that sweater with the hole in the sleeve, she reflected, groaning inwardly. He had better ones, but that was his favorite. Smiling, Barnett Whitman extended his hand to Wade, not seeming to notice that he looked positively ragged in his old baggy trousers, faded print shirt and slippers.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Granger,” he said easily. “Sorry I’m not getting up, but I’ve had some trouble with my hip and sitting down feels better.”

“Yes, your daughter was telling me about your fall,” Wade replied. “I hope it’s better.”

“I’ll be able to go back to work next month,” her father assured him. “The Tabers have been wonderful to me, to us.”

“I know the Tabers,” Wade said. “Keegan’s a character, isn’t he?” he added conversationally. “Quite a guy.”

Her father immediately brightened. Anyone who liked Keegan was instantly a friend, Eleanor thought with bitter irony.

“Keegan often plays chess with me,” Barnett Whitman said proudly.

Wade raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I can’t imagine him sitting still that long. He always seems to be on the run, doesn’t he?”

“In a dead heat,” Barnett agreed with a smile. “But he’s a good chess player, for all that.”

Quickly Eleanor took Wade’s arm and said, “Shall we go into the dining room?” to prevent her father from further extolling the virtues of the one man she wanted to forget. “I hope you like spaghetti, Wade. I was on seven-to-three today, and I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare.”

“Spaghetti is fine,” Wade told her. “I should have brought a bottle of Chianti to go with it. Or a nice rosé. What do you have?”

Eleanor stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Wine, darling,” he said.

“Oh!” She felt her cheeks grow hot. “I’m sorry, we don’t drink.”

“I’ll have to take you in hand and corrupt you, you innocent little thing. Shhh, we don’t want your father to think I’m a rake,” he added in a stage whisper.

Her father, liking this obvious attention, grinned as he sat down. Eleanor smiled as Wade seated her, but she felt oddly uncomfortable, as if her social graces were nonexistent. Without meaning to, Wade made her feel like a country mouse.

It wasn’t the most successful evening Eleanor had ever had. She felt uncomfortable, although her father did his best to liven things up. By the time dinner was over and Eleanor had served up her special homemade apple pie with ice cream, she was more than willing to show Wade to the door.

He shook hands with her father and walked out onto the porch with Eleanor.

“Not a wild success, was it?” he asked with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, darling, did I hurt your feelings?”

“Yes, you did,” she said, surprised at his perception. “But it’s not your fault. It’s just…I guess I felt the difference in our situations….”

“You little snob,” he accused her lightly.

She blushed furiously. “I am not!”

“I think you’re charming, Eleanor Whitman,” he said with an intent stare. “A nice person as well as a sexy lady, and I like you. I really didn’t come to appraise the furniture,” he added with a grin.

“Sorry,” she murmured with downcast eyes. “I guess I’m a little uneasy about it, that’s all.”

“Stop worrying about the differences, and let’s concentrate on the things we have in common. Over dinner. Tomorrow night.”

She hestitated.

“Come on, sweet thing, you know you want to,” he teased, bending to kiss her soft mouth gently. “Come on, go out with me, Ellie.”

He made the hated nickname sound special and sweet, and she smiled dreamily up at him. He was handsome, she thought. A nice, lovely, ordinary man, despite his wealth and prominence.

“All right,” she agreed.

“Good girl.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, breaking the line of her lips this time. He was adept at lovemaking—it showed in the sensuous deliberation of his warm mouth. And if some spark was missing, Eleanor ignored it. It was very pleasant to kiss him. She relaxed and gave him her mouth, smiling when he finally drew back.

“Whew!” He whistled, looking breathless. “Sweetheart, you’re delicious.”

She laughed at the warmth in his eyes. He made her feel special, womanly.

“So innocent,” he murmured. He drew her closer, nuzzling his chin against her forehead. “I like that. I like being with an innocent woman for a change. It’s exciting.”

He thought her inexperienced, and in a sense she was. But he was obviously making assumptions about her innocence that were false, and she didn’t know how to correct him. She drew back, looking up at him, and her eyes were worried.

“Such a frown,” he murmured. “Don’t. I’m not that much a wolf, Little Red Riding Hood. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you plenty of time. Now go back inside, it’s chilly out here. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?”

She beamed. “All right.”

“I enjoyed dinner,” he murmured. “But dessert was the best course.” Bending, he drew her completely against him and kissed her hungrily.

She should have told him. But there would be time for that, later. And she might never have to tell him. She wasn’t planning on having an affair with him, and she was sure that wasn’t what he had in mind, either. He seemed to be serious. That would make a nice change. She might enjoy letting him be serious about her. She kissed him back, sighing when he released her. If only she could forget how it had felt when Keegan had kissed her….

“Good night, darling,” he said in a shaky whisper, and ran down the steps to his Mercedes convertible. He started up the engine and waved, his dark hair ruffling in the night breeze as he turned the car and sped away.

Eleanor drifted back inside, feeling a little removed from reality. It hadn’t been a total loss, this evening. Something wonderful might come of it.

“He’s a nice man,” her father said kindly. “Is it serious?”

“Serious!” she burst out, throwing up her hands. “One date, and you’re wording wedding invitations!”

“So I’m anxious to see you happily settled,” he grumbled, and glared at her. “Get married. Have children! I’m not getting any younger!”

“At the rate you’re going, you’ll outlive me!” she threw back.

He made a rough sound under his breath, got out his copy of Thucydides and began reading, deliberately ignoring her. She laughed as she went into the kitchen to wash up.

* * *

She was off the next day, having worked nine days in a row to compensate for a personnel shortage following a viral outbreak. Wade called early and had to break their dinner date because of business. He was going to be busy until the weekend, he said, but could she go to a party with him Saturday night at a nearby estate?

Eleanor held her breath, trying to figure out whom she could swap duty with to make it. Yes, she said finally, she’d work it out somehow. He told her when to expect him and rang off.

Immediately, Eleanor dialed her friend Darcy at the hospital. Darcy would take over for her, she knew, if she agreed to work Friday for Darcy.

“Can you cover for me Saturday night if I cover for you Friday night?” she asked breathlessly when her friend answered the phone. “I’ve got this really hot date.”

“You, with a hot date?” Darcy gasped. “My gosh, I’d get up off my deathbed to cover for you if you’re really going out with a man! It is a man?” she asked. “Not some sweet old gentleman you’re taking pity on?”

“It is a man. It’s Wade.” She sighed.

Darcy paused. “Honey, I hope you know what you’re doing. That isn’t a man, it’s a ladykiller.”

“I’m a big girl now.”

“A babe in the woods.”

“Not quite,” Eleanor said gently. “Not at all anymore.”

Darcy sighed. “Well, I should be shot for agreeing, but I will. Where are you going?”

“To a cocktail party at the Blake estate.”

“The Blakes own half of Fayette County!”

“Yes, I know. I’m so nervous. I thought I’d wear that little black cocktail dress I wore to our Christmas party….”

“You will not! It’s three years old! I have a strappy little gray silk number, you’ll wear that. It will just fit you. And I have an evening bag and shoes to match. No arguments. I’m not sending you to the Blakes’ looking like something out of a Salvation Army charity store!”

That cut, because it was how Wade had made her feel. She hesitated, then gave in gracefully. She really did want to go to the party with Wade, to get a taste of that luxurious other world. And her little black dress would only embarrass him.

“Okay,” she told Darcy. “You’re a pal. I wish I could do something for you.”

“You are,” came the smug reply. “You’re filling in for me Friday so that I can see that new picture with Arnold. Come over Saturday morning and we’ll fix you up.”

“I’ll be there at nine, with coffee and biscuits from the Red Barn, how’s that for true friendship?” She laughed.

“That’s true friendship,” Darcy agreed. “See you then.”

Eleanor excitedly told her father about her plans for Saturday, then went back into the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes, frowning when she heard a car drive up in front. She peeked into the living room, and her heart leaped as Keegan walked into it, frowning and looking worried. He sat down and started talking to her father, fortunately not glancing toward the kitchen. She quickly drew back inside.

She was too far away to hear what was being said, but she had a terrible feeling it had something to do with her. Well, let them talk, it wouldn’t stop her. She liked Wade, she’d been in a state of hibernation for over a year, and she was tired of her own company. She wanted to get out and live a little before she turned into a vegetable or an old maid. And if Keegan didn’t like it, that was too bad. She didn’t care about his opinion. She didn’t care about him, either.

The kitchen door opened, and the object of her dark thoughts came into the room, hands rammed into the pockets of his pale slacks. She glanced at him and then concentrated on her dishes.

“Can I help you?” she asked carelessly.

“Your father says you’re going to a party at the Blakes’ with your new boyfriend.”

“So what if I am?” she asked coldly.

“You’re going to be out of your league, little girl,” he said bluntly. “They’ll eat you up.”

Her cheeks reddened with anger. She put the dishcloth down slowly and turned to face him, her dark eyes narrow and icy. “You don’t think I can behave like a lady, is that it?” she asked, glaring up at him. “Well, don’t worry, Mr. Taber, you won’t have to suffer my embarrassing presence. And I think the Blakes will manage not to laugh at me.”

“I didn’t mean… Damn it, girl, will you stop putting words in my mouth? I’m talking about Granger. I’ve already told you he’s a wolf! A rich, sleek, well-fed wolf with a big wallet, just fishing for a naive little girl like you to warm his bed!”

She turned and stared at him. “Just like you,” she agreed, and watched him explode, then turned back to her dishes. “Why are you worried about my morals? If I want to be corrupted by someone else, that’s my business. Besides, I’ve always wanted to make love suspended from a tree limb,” she added dryly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he murmured, studying her. “Eleanor, you’re trying to fit into a world that has nothing of value to offer you.”

“Like yours?” she asked politely.

“I’m talking about you and Wade Granger! Aren’t you experienced enough to realize why he’s sniffing around you?”

He made it sound so cheap and vulgar! “I am not a tramp,” she replied through clenched teeth, “despite your efforts to make me feel like one.”

“When did I ever do that, Eleanor?” he asked in a deep, poignant tone, his eyes searching hers.

She didn’t want to remember that night. “If you want to stay to lunch, I’m making ham sandwiches,” she said abruptly, washing a plate hard enough to scrub half the pattern off.

He came up behind her, smelling of tangy cologne. She remembered the scent of it: it had clung to her body that night. It had been on her pillow when she awoke the next morning. It was a graphic reminder of her one lapse in a lifetime of sanity. The warmth of his body radiated toward her, warming her back, threatening her.

“I was careful with you that night,” he said, his voice velvety rough, warm. “More careful than I’ve ever been with a woman, before or since. Even afterward, I was tender. I’ve never been able to forget it, the way you wanted me at first, the wild little shudders, the sweet cries that pulsed out of you until I hurt you.”

“Please,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I don’t want to remember!”

“You cried,” he murmured. His lean hands smoothed her waist, drew her back so that she rested against his powerful body. “You cried when I took you, looking straight into my eyes, watching…and I felt that you were a virgin, and I tried to stop, but I was so far gone…”

“No!” She wept, lowering her face.

His lips touched her hair, and his hands trembled. “You were fire and honey in my arms,” he whispered, “and I remember crying out because the pleasure was an agony.”

She tore out of his arms and retreated behind the table, looking across at him with dark, wounded eyes. “Go away!”

His eyes were dark blue with remembered desire, his face shadowed by the flash of light behind him through the curtains. “I will, but the memory won’t,” he said huskily.

“You used me,” she whispered brokenly, involuntarily, letting the hurt show, seeing how his face hardened. “You had a fight with your sophisticated girlfriend, and you took me out to spite her. And like a fool, I thought you’d asked me because you cared about me. It wasn’t until…until it was all over, until it was too late, that you told me the truth. I hated you then and I hate you now. I’ll hate you until I die, Keegan Taber!”

His eyes shifted to his boots, to the worn linoleum. “Yes, I know,” he said quietly.

“Will you please go?” she said in a defeated tone, refusing to look at him again. “My life is none of your business now. Nothing I do concerns you.”

“Do you want him?” he asked.

She went and opened the kitchen door. “Goodbye. Sorry you have to leave so suddenly,” she said with a bright, empty smile.

“I thought I was invited to lunch.”

“Do you really like arsenic?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “Because I’ve never been more tempted in my life.”

“Neither have I,” he agreed, but he was studying her slender, pretty figure with narrowed, blue-black eyes. “You’re exquisite, Eleanor. You always were, but maturity has done amazing things to your body.”

“I am more than a body,” she said curtly. “I’m a human being with thoughts and feelings and a few minor talents.”

“I know that, too…. Do you fancy a guardian angel, Eleanor?”

She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” he said with a grim smile. “At least keep away from his apartment, can’t you? I hear he has a bed that begins at the doorway.”

She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing, and his twinkling eyes very nearly threw her off balance.

“Well, that surely beats the backseat of a luxury car, wouldn’t you think…?” she asked with blatant mockery.

He sighed. “You won’t quit, will you? I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you I was so out of my head at the time that I wasn’t even thinking about anyone but you?”

“Right the first time,” she said, grinning carelessly. “Do you want a ham sandwich or don’t you?”

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and took his time lighting it. “I’m going to get around that wall you’ve built, one way or the other. You can make change on that.”

“Better buy a rocket launcher and a couple of grenades,” she told him. “You’re going to need them.”

“You may, if Romeo gets a foot in the door,” he said grimly. “Don’t worry your father, will you? He broods.”

“He’ll have to give me up one day,” she remarked.

“You aren’t thinking that Granger might propose, for God’s sake?” he burst out, laughing coldly. “Marry a sweet little nobody like you? Fat chance, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” she shot back.

“You were,” he said, his voice rough and soft all at once, his eyes intent. “You were the sweetest honey I ever tasted.”

“The beehive is out of order,” she replied stiffly. “You’ll have to appease your appetite elsewhere.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he said absently, watching her as the cigarette smoldered in his hand, its glowing tip as red as his waving hair. “There hasn’t been for a long time.”

“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” she said. “If you’re quite through, I have things to do.”

He shrugged. “Turned out into the cold,” he said, watching her. “Heartless woman.”

“It’s spring, and it isn’t cold. And you’re one to be accusing someone of not having a heart.”

“You don’t think I have one, Eleanor?” He laughed. “You might be surprised at the bruises on it.”

“I would, if there were any.”

“Nurses are supposed to have compassion,” he reminded her.

“I have, for those who deserve it. I have dishes to wash, sandwiches to make….”

“Wash your damned dishes, and forget making any sandwiches for me,” he muttered, turning to go. “The way my luck’s running lately, you’d probably make mine with a live pig.”

She heard the door close and went back to her soapy water. It took a long time for her heart to calm down, and she thanked providence for removing his disturbing presence. She didn’t want to remember that night. Why couldn’t he go away and let her forget it? Just the sight of him was a constant reminder, an eternal opening of the wound. She closed her eyes and went quickly about her tasks.

Chapter Three

Early Saturday morning, Eleanor left her father sleeping soundly and drove to the Red Barn to get biscuits and coffee for herself and Darcy. The older nurse with whom she worked was still in her housecoat when Eleanor reached her small efficiency apartment downtown.

Darcy blinked, yawning, her pale brown eyes bloodshot, her round face blank. “Coffee and biscuits,” she murmured dreamily, closing her eyes to smell. “Wonderful!”

Eleanor laughed, following her friend into the apartment. The furniture was in about the same shape as that in Eleanor’s house, and she felt comfortable here. Not that Darcy would ever have put on airs, even if she’d had gobs of money. The two of them had become friends years before in high school. Darcy had done her nurse’s training in Lexington, while Eleanor had gone to Louisville. But now they found themselves working at the same hospital, and it was as if the four-year absence had never been. They were as much alike as ever and had fallen back into their easy, close relationship with no trouble at all. Only Darcy had known just how deeply in love Eleanor had been with Keegan, although Eleanor hadn’t told even her best friend the full extent of her stupidity. But Darcy knew why Eleanor had left town when Keegan announced his engagement because Eleanor had cried on her shoulder for hours afterward.

They sat at Darcy’s small white kitchen table and ate the fluffy sausage biscuits, washing them down with coffee. It was just after nine, and the city hadn’t started to buzz yet. Soon, however, the downtown traffic would be murder.

“I needed that. Thanks!” Darcy smiled.

“Oh, anytime.” Eleanor grinned. “Now, about that dress…”

Darcy burst out laughing. “You shrewd operator! Okay, come on in here and let’s look it over.”

It was a dream of a dress, silk chiffon that fell in soft folds around Eleanor’s slender body, a pale gray that emphasized her dark eyes and soft brown hair. She smiled at her reflection, liking the demure rounded neckline and the transparent sleeves that gathered at the cuff.

“It’s heavenly.” She sighed. “You’re sure you want to risk this with me?”

“I got it at a nearly new shop. It’s a designer model, only worn twice. Here are the shoes and bag.”

The shoes had small Queen Anne heels and straps around the ankles. They were elegant, like the tiny gray leather purse that finished the outfit.

“Wow, is that me?” Eleanor laughed at her reflection.

“Well, almost,” Darcy murmured. “Sweet, your hair is dreadful. I have to get a cut today—suppose you come with me?”

Eleanor looked at the soft waves falling around her shoulders and tugged at a strand of hair that seemed more like wire. “Dreadful is definitely the word all right. Can we get an appointment for me at such short notice?”

“They take walk-ins anytime,” Darcy assured her. “And some new makeup. And for God’s sake, honey, a bra that has a little support.”

Eleanor sighed, nodding. “I never buy under things until the old ones lose their elastic and have holes.”

“You need taking in hand.” Darcy shook her head. “Pretty lacy under things give you confidence. You could use a little of that!”

“I guess I could, at that. Okay. Let’s renovate me.”

The two of them walked to the hairdressing parlor, and the operator gave Eleanor a cut that suited her face: softly waved and very short. She looked different already, and when they went into a department store where Eleanor was shown how to apply new makeup, the transformation was complete.

“Mmmmm,” Eleanor said with a smile, looking at her face in the fluorescent mirror. “Is that me?”

“It sure is, honey.” Darcy laughed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months. You used to be so particular about your appearance, but lately you’ve just let yourself go.”

“I guess I have,” she agreed. She touched her hair. “What a difference. Wade is going to love this.”

Darcy pursed her lips. “That party’s really got you perking, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has,” she admitted as they went through the women’s department browsing through the latest styles. “Not that I’m trying to break into high society. That would be ridiculous. I just want to do something different, you know? My life is deadly dull. I feel like I’m growing old second by second.”

“That’s a laugh. You’re the youngest person I know at heart. Just like your dad. How is he, by the way?”

“Getting back in shape slowly but surely, and trying to get me married off.”

“Same old Dad.” Darcy laughed.

“Amen.”

“Wouldn’t he settle for letting you have a wild, passionate affair?”

Eleanor sighed. “He couldn’t get grandkids that way,” she reminded her friend. “Anyway, I’m not sure I want to have an affair with anyone. Wade’s wonderfully nice, and I like him a lot. But he doesn’t start any fires just yet. I think that has to accompany emotional involvement, for me, at least.”

“Well, personally speaking, if I were looking for a blazing affair, I know which direction I’d be staring. My gosh, I’ll bet Keegan Taber is just plain dynamite in bed!”

“Oh, goodness!” Eleanor cried as her hand tore down half a dozen gowns from the rack. She colored furiously as she bent to pick them up.

“Sorry,” Darcy murmured as her friend fumbled gowns back onto hangers. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that, considering… But he is gorgeous, honey.” She eyed her friend thoughtfully. “I bet he’ll be at that party. His family and the Blakes are real friendly, aren’t they?”

“Isn’t this pretty?” Eleanor enthused over a pale green silk gown.

Darcy got the hint and said nothing more about Keegan. But the look in her eyes was more eloquent than words.

For the rest of the day, after she and Darcy parted company, Eleanor worried about the party. Keegan wouldn’t be there…would he? She didn’t want him to spoil her fun, to intrude into her life anymore. She found things to do, to keep busy. She couldn’t bear thinking about it. Anyway, Wade would be with her. He’d protect her.

She got dressed early and went into her father’s study, where he’d been holed up all day, to show him her borrowed outfit and her new look.

He stared and nodded solemnly. “You look just like your mother, darling,” he said, smiling wistfully. “So beautiful.”

“Not me. Wrong girl.” She laughed. “But if you think I’ll do, that’s fine.”

“You’ll do all right. You may need a stick to beat off the boys.” He lit his pipe. “Watch yourself.”

“Everybody tells me that.” She sighed.

“Then I’d listen if I were you.” He studied her with shrewd eyes. “Remember that it’s a long way from the presidential suite to the economy-class rooms, will you?”

“We’re not servants,” she said haughtily.

“Yes, I know that. But we’re not high society, either. See that you remember it.”

“Yes, Your Worship,” she said, and curtsied.

“Away with you! And don’t drink. You know what it does to you.”

She did, indeed, remembering that one date with Keegan. Her face colored, and she bent, pretending to fix her shoe strap.

“I’ll remember.”

“And have a good time,” her father added.

“Oh, I expect to.”

“And say hello to Keegan for me,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes. “Didn’t you know he was invited, too?”

She glared at the knowing look in his eyes, then turned as she heard a car pull into the driveway. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you when I get back. Don’t be up too late, now.”

He made a face at her and she closed the door on it.

The Blakes lived in a house just a little less palatial than Flintlock. It was redbrick, very old, and stood on the banks of a private lake overlooking one of the most beautiful plains near Lexington. There was rolling farmland around it, and Thoroughbreds pranced jauntily in the confines of white fences.

“Nice little place, isn’t it?” Wade asked as they stopped in the driveway where a liveried chauffeur waited to drive them from the parking spaces up to the house.

“Little,” she scoffed, getting into the back of the Rolls-Royce limousine. She tried to memorize every inch of the leather luxury so that she could tell her father and Darcy. It was a little like being Cinderella.

“Little compared to some,” Wade replied with a laugh. Riding around in Rolls-Royces was probably nothing unusual for him. He leaned back, scanning Eleanor’s ensemble. “I like your dress, darling. Silk wears well, doesn’t it?”

“Uh, yes, it does,” she returned. Odd that he could recognize silk; he probably wore silk shirts. Most rich men did. She remembered that Keegan had worn a white silk shirt that night….

“I like the new haircut, too,” he said. “You pay for dressing, Eleanor. I like the way you look.”

“I’m glad.”

“Nervous?” he asked as the driver pulled up in front of the house, which was blazing with light. Exquisitely gowned women and men in black evening wear strode elegantly along the cobblestone walkway, and Eleanor did feel uneasy.

“Just a bit,” she confessed.

“Just stick with me, kid, I’ll take care of you,” he said with a wink.

She glanced at him. Was he afraid she might slurp her soup and try to butter her bread with her spoon? She frowned. Was it a dinner party?

She asked him. “No, darling,” he replied, guiding her to the front door. “It’s a champagne buffet.”

“With different kinds of champagne?”

“Not quite,” he chuckled, pressing her hand closer. Tall, dark, good-looking, he attracted attention, even with his slightly overweight frame. And Eleanor seemed to be doing that as well. And not because she was out of place. “Champagne and hors d’oeuvres,” he whispered. “Conversation and dancing. There’s even a pool, if you fancy swimming.”

“Well, not in my gown,” she murmured demurely.

“They keep bathing suits on hand,” he said, laughing. “Sometimes, they actually fit.”

“I’ll pass, thank you,” she said with a smile.

She was introduced to her host and hostess. Mr. Blake was sixtyish, heavyset and pleasant. His wife— his third wife—was barely forty, vivacious and dripping diamonds. Their daughter was in her early twenties but already married. Her husband, an executive type, was beside her, helping to receive guests.

Fortunately no one asked if Eleanor was related to the Cape Cod Whitmans or the Palm Beach Whitmans, and she didn’t have to confess that her father was a carpenter on the Taber farm. That would have humiliated her beyond bearing. She hated being an outsider. But these people and their elegant furnishings graphically reminded her of what she would be going home to. They pointed up the difference between living and surviving. And she wondered if she hadn’t been better off not knowing that some people could afford trinkets like original oil paintings and velvet sofas and leather chairs and Oriental carpets and crystal chandeliers.

She had only one glass of champagne, standing rigid beside Wade while he discussed money matters with acquaintances. Conversation seemed to center around good stocks, municipal bonds, money markets, income taxes and new investment opportunities. The only investments Eleanor knew about were the ones she made on her car and groceries. She smiled into her champagne and nibbled on a delicate little puff pastry filled with chicken.

“Well, look who’s arrived,” murmured the older man beside Wade, glancing toward the door.

Eleanor followed his amused stare and found Keegan, in a black tuxedo, just entering the house with an elegant little black-clad brunette on his arm.

Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat just looking at him. He was devastating in evening clothes, his red hair neatly combed, his patrician features alarmingly handsome. Lucky, lucky girl who had his whole attention, she thought miserably, then chided herself for the thought. After all, she was long over him.

“Isn’t that the O’Clancy girl, the one who’s visiting them from Ireland?”

“Yes, I think it is. Lovely, isn’t she? She and her parents are hoping to work a deal with Taber, or so we hear, on a Thoroughbred of theirs,” Wade murmured with a smile. “Trust Taber to come up with an escort like that. But what’s he doing here?”

“He’s after that new colt of Blake’s—the Arabian out of Dane’s Grace by Treadway. Probably Blake decided they could discuss business here as well as at the golf course.” He chuckled.

Watching Keegan with the brunette, Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d gone through since the night he’d seduced her. The thought made her go hot all over.

“Why the long face?” Wade teased, whispering in her ear.

“I don’t like him,” she blurted out.

His eyebrows arched. “Why not?” he exclaimed.

“He has freckles,” she muttered, glowering at the redheaded man, who seemed to feel her cold scrutiny and turned abruptly. He caught her eyes across the room, and she stood there dying of old wounds, feeling the floor lurch under her feet. Her body ached; it took her last ounce of willpower to jerk her gaze back to Wade and calm her wildly beating heart. “Don’t you think freckles are just horribly blatant?” she asked matter-of-factly. “I can’t think why anyone would want to have them.”

He laughed helplessly. “I don’t suppose he can get rid of them, darling,” he said.

“A likely story,” she returned.

He laughed even harder and pulled her close against his side. “You bubbly little thing. I’d rather have you around than a magnum of champagne.”

She knew. Oh, how she knew. She smiled up at him just as Keegan looked her way, intercepting her smile. He seemed to grow two feet and his eyes were suddenly darker, possessive. He let his gaze rove over her from head to toe, and even at a distance the look was powerfully narcotic. She avoided it this time, in self-defense.

“Shall we dance?” Wade asked. He put their glasses aside and moved her into the ballroom, where a small orchestra was playing Strauss waltzes. She moved across the floor with him like thistledown, and he grinned.

“You dance gloriously!” he said.

“Not what you expected of a nurse?” she teased. “Actually, I took dancing for three years. Ballroom dancing was part of the course. I do love a waltz.”

“Then let’s show them how a waltz should be performed,” he murmured, and drew her around and around in the center of the floor.

Soon people were standing back to watch, because they moved as one person. He was an excellent dancer, and she followed him without a single missed step. She laughed up into his face, loving the music, feeling young again, full of life. It had been a long, bleak year, and now she was coming to life again. She closed her eyes and drifted, giving herself up to the joyous, seductive rhythm. It would have been perfect, she thought dreamily, if the arms holding her were wiry and strong, if the body against hers were lithe and lean and hard-muscled. And if the face above hers were surrounded by red hair, and if there were horrible freckles all over it….

She bit her lip. If. How long did it take a dream to die? she wondered sadly. Hers had lasted too long already.

Eleanor returned to the reality of applause all around as Wade bowed to her and led her off the dance floor. She held tight to his hand, vaguely aware of Keegan’s blue eyes watching. Always watching. Why did he stare at her so? she wondered. Was it guilt?

“That was nice,” she told Wade.

“I thought so, too. You’re magic.” He bent and brushed a kiss across her forehead. Across the room, a redheaded man clenched his fists and looked as if he could do murder.

When some of the other guests discovered that Eleanor was a nurse, she found herself much in demand to answer medical questions, none of which she felt qualified to address. She learned to excuse herself before things got too complex, and she never lacked for partners. But inevitably Keegan claimed her for a dance, and the evening turned dark.

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