New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann has thrilled audiences with her Tall, Dark and Dangerous series. Experience it here with a hero who must face the most daring adventure of all—falling in love.

The guy next door is home to stay—but can he be trusted?

Blue McCoy was once the hero of Lucy Tait’s teenaged dreams—quiet, dark and dangerous. But after high school he left Hatboro Creek, South Carolina, to join the military. Now, years later, a brooding Navy SEAL, Blue is back in town.

Lucy, now a no-nonsense police officer, is certainly not the person Blue remembers. And when he’s accused of murder and Lucy is assigned his case, their brief affair becomes part of an extensive investigation where the stakes are vital: Blue’s freedom—and maybe Lucy’s heart.

Forever Blue
Suzanne Brockmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Jodie Kuhlman and Patricia McMahon,

for their amazing brainstorming power

and naming skill, and for Sarah Telford,

for lending Lucy her little black dress.

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Dedication

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

EPILOGUE

Copyright

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My eternal thanks to my wonderful friend Eric Ruben, who called me up one day and said, “Hey, Suz, I just read a great article about navy SEALs. You should check it out.” (I did, and the rest, as they say, is history.)

Special thanks to the Forever Blue Project volunteers from the Team Ten list (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/teamten/) for their proofreading skills: Cocaptains Rebecca Chappell and Agnes Brach, and Jeanette Bishop, Erin Brown, Jaxine Bubis, Nicole Geary, April Gieseking, Cindy Olp, Patricia Rovensky, Mary Beth Schroeder and Neal Wyatt. Hooyah, gang! Thanks so much for helping out.

Thanks to the real teams of SEALs, and to all of the courageous men and women in the U.S. military who sacrifice so much to keep America the land of the free and the home of the brave. And last but not least, a heartfelt thank-you to the wives, husbands, children and families of these real-life military heroes and heroines. Your sacrifice is deeply appreciated!

Any mistakes I’ve made or liberties I’ve taken in writing this book are completely my own.

PROLOGUE

Lieutenant Blue McCoy was the point man, leading the six other men of SEAL Team Ten’s Alpha Squad across the marshlike ground. He moved painstakingly slowly, inch by inch through the darkness, touching, feeling the soft, loamy earth; searching for booby traps and land mines before actually putting his weight down on any one spot.

He watched the shadows, scanning the brush in front of him, memorizing the placement of each faintly silhouetted leaf and branch, alert to even the most minute movement.

The sounds of the night surrounded him. Insects buzzed and clicked; a dog barked maybe a mile away. An owl called through the darkness, its eerie cry proclaiming itself lord of this nocturnal domain, king of this night world.

It was a world in which Blue McCoy belonged, a world where he could lead a group of men so silently and invisibly through the darkness that the crickets at their feet didn’t sense their presence.

It had taken them more than an hour to cross the open field. Five more yards and they’d be in the cover of the brush. They’d be able to move faster then. Faster, but no less cautiously.

Blue listened, so in tune with the land around him that he was the night. His heart beat slowly in time with the silent, age-old rhythm of the earth and he thought of nothing—nothing but survival. All the noises and sounds of the air force base where Alpha Squad had been just ten hours earlier had long since evaporated, leaving only the night. There were six other men behind him, but Blue heard not a sound from any of them. He knew they were there only from faith, but it was a faith in which he had no doubts. The other SEALs were guarding his back as he led them forward. He knew they would die to protect him, as certainly as he would give his life for them.

Blue sniffed the air and froze, catching a faint, musky odor. But a second sniff convinced him that it was only an animal, some kind of rodent that moved as silently through the night as he did. It wasn’t a human smell, and human animals were the prey he was hunting tonight.

Directly through the woods, dead ahead at twelve o’clock, forty yards distant, was a cabin. According to the spooks from FInCOM—the agents from the Federal Intelligence Commission—inside the cabin was United States Senator Mike Branford’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Karen. The latest infrared satellite photos of the cabin revealed that at least four members of the terrorist group that had kidnapped her were inside the cabin with her. Another ten people were sleeping in a second structure, twenty yards to the northeast. And two five-man units of terrorists patrolled the surrounding woods. Only minutes ago, one of the units had come within four feet of Blue and the Alpha Squad. The unit commander had lit a cigarette, tossing the smoking match inches from Blue’s hand before ordering his men to move on.

With their faces painted green and black, and with their intensive SEAL training, experience and discipline, Alpha Squad was invisible, embraced by the darkness, enshrouded by the cloak of night.

As the SEALs positioned themselves in the brush that surrounded the cabin, Blue turned to look at his commanding officer and good friend, Lieutenant Joe Catalanotto. Blue could barely see Joe Cat’s face in the darkness, but he saw the man’s nod.

Time to go.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blue caught the stealthy movement of Cowboy, Lucky, Bobby and Wes as they faded toward the northeast and the second structure. They were going to secure that building and neutralize the terrorists inside.

That left Joe Cat and Harvard cooling their heels outside the main cabin while Blue crept inside to snatch back the girl.

H. stood guard while Joe and Blue scanned the exterior of the cabin, in particular the window that was to be Blue’s insertion point, his way in.

There were no booby traps, no alarms, no extra security. That was because the quarter mile surrounding the cabin was loaded with booby traps, alarms and armed security patrols. It was also because Aldo Fricker, the terrorists’ leader, had forgotten the number-one rule: Never assume. The terrorists had left their vulnerable underbelly unprotected because they’d assumed that no one would be able to penetrate the fiercely guarded outer perimeters of their compound.

They were wrong.

Al Fricker, meet SEAL Team Ten’s Alpha Squad.

As Blue watched, Joe Cat quickly and quietly cut the pane of glass from the cabin’s window. Harvard gave Blue a boost up, and he was inside.

Blue did a quick scan of the interior with his night-vision glasses, quickly locating the senator’s young daughter. She was curled up in an old brass bed in the southeast corner of the room. From what he could see she was still alive. The four guards were in sleeping bags or stretched out on the bare floor near the door. Blue took off his NVs and waited several seconds for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark again, listening to the quiet breathing of the sleeping guards. It wouldn’t do any good to wake the girl up while wearing the NVs, looking like some kind of alien from outer space. She was going to be frightened enough as it was.

He took four syringes from his battle vest and moved silently through the room, giving each of the guards a carefully dosed guaranteed good night’s sleep. He sealed the needles back up and packaged the now-empty syringes in a bag marked Bio-hazardous Waste. A quick search of the cabin convinced him that no other guards were lurking, so he moved toward the senator’s daughter.

He flicked on his penlight, shielding the light in the palm of one hand as he looked down at the sleeping girl. She was curled in a fetal position, knees tucked into her chest, one arm up, wrist attached by handcuffs to the brass headboard of the bed. Her hair was tangled and knotted, and dirt and blood from abrasions streaked her face and bare arms and legs. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a sleeveless top. Both were badly torn.

The bastards had hurt her. Karen. Her name was Karen Branford. They’d beaten her. Probably raped her. Christ, she was fifteen years old.

Rage filled him. Hot, molten and deadly, Blue felt it seep through his body, under his skin, spreading out all the way to his fingers and toes. It was a familiar sensation in his line of business. Normally he welcomed it. But tonight his job wasn’t to fight back. Tonight his job was to take this battered little girl out of here and get her to safety.

When he adjusted his headset, pulling the lip microphone closer to his mouth, his voice was steady. “Cat,” he said almost silently to his commanding officer. “They hurt her.”

Joe Catalanotto cursed. “Bad?”

“Yeah.”

“Can she walk?”

“I don’t know,” Blue said.

He turned toward the girl again, sensing from the change in the sound of her breathing that she was awake. Awake and terrified.

Quickly he knelt down next to her, holding the penlight so that it lit his camouflaged face.

“I’m Lieutenant Blue McCoy, miss,” he said in a low voice. “I’m a U.S. Navy SEAL, and I’m here to bring you home.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, taking in his uniform, his gun, and he knew she didn’t understand.

“I’m an American sailor, Karen,” he said. “I’m a friend of your daddy’s, and I’m gonna get you outta here.”

At the mention of her father, understanding and hope flared simultaneously in her brown eyes. She had been clutching at her torn shirt in a futile attempt at modesty, but now she removed her hand to cover his light.

“Shh,” she whispered. “You’ll wake the guards.”

“No, I won’t,” Blue said. “They’re not going to wake up for a while. And when they do, they’re going to be in jail.” He extracted his lock pick from the waterproof case in his vest and set to work on her cuffs. Three seconds was all it took, and the lock snapped open.

As she rubbed her wrist, Blue slipped off his pack and battle vest and quickly unbuttoned the camouflage shirt he wore underneath it. It was damp with perspiration and probably didn’t smell too good, but it was the best he could offer her under the circumstances.

She accepted it silently, slipping it on and buttoning it clear up to her neck.

Blue had to give her credit. After her initial surprise and fear, she now gazed back at him unflinchingly. Her eyes were clear and brave. He’d seen brown eyes like hers somewhere before, a lifetime ago. The owner of those eyes had been fifteen years old, too….

Lucy. Little Lucy Tait. Hell, he hadn’t thought about her in years.

Blue glanced at his watch, double-checking to make sure his pack was secure. According to the plan, diversionary tactics should be just about ready to start. Blue took a deep breath, looked down at Karen and quietly asked, “Can you walk?”

The young girl stood up. The tail of Blue’s shirt came all the way down to her knees. “Better than that,” she said stoutly, “I can run.”

Blue smiled for the first time in what seemed like hours. “Well, all right. Let’s go.”

They were halfway through the brush, when Blue heard the first shots ring out. Joe Cat and H. were right behind him, and he sensed them both turning toward the sounds of the skirmish, wondering which men of Alpha Squad were involved, wishing they could go toward the fighting and provide backup.

“This is the wrong way,” Blue heard Karen gasp. She pulled free from his grasp, looking wildly around.

He took her arm again. “No, it’s not—”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I tried running this way before. There are nothing but cliffs. There’s no path down to the ocean. We’ll be trapped!”

The kid had tried to escape. Blue marveled at her guts. She was tough. Again he couldn’t help but think about Lucy Tait. He’d been a senior and Lucy had been a little freshman, and the first time they met, she had been getting the stuff kicked out of her by a gang of kids. She was bloody and clearly the odds were against her, but she had a defiant lift to her chin and a “you can’t beat me” glint in her brown eyes.

Cowboy’s voice came in over Blue’s headset. “Cat! About four tangos broke free. They’re heading in your direction!”

“Copy that,” Cat replied. He turned to Blue. “Go.”

“We’re going to parasail down to the water,” Blue told Karen. “There’s a boat waiting for us.”

She didn’t understand. “Parasail? How?”

“Trust me,” he said.

Karen hesitated only a fraction of a second, then nodded.

Then they were running again, this time without Cat and Harvard on their heels.

The forest opened up into a field, and Blue felt vulnerable and exposed. If one of the terrorists broke through Cat and Harvard’s ambush… But they wouldn’t.

“Knock the hell out of them for me,” he said into his lip microphone, and he heard Joe Catalanotto chuckle.

“You bet, buddy.”

Blue stopped at the edge of the cliff and made adjustments to his pack so that Karen could be latched against him and they could parasail down to the water together.

She didn’t complain, didn’t say a word, although he knew that the proximity of his body to hers had to remind her of the brutalities she’d endured over the past four days.

But he couldn’t think about that; couldn’t wonder, couldn’t focus on her pain. He had to think about that ship bobbing in the darkness, made invisible by the night.

He flipped on the homing device in his vest, reassured by the series of blips and beeps that told him the ship was indeed out there.

“Hold on,” he said to the girl, and then he jumped.

* * *

Blue was on the deck of the USS Franklin when the chopper carrying the rest of Alpha Squad touched down.

He looked closer, trying for a quick head count. It was a reflex from the time all those years ago when Frisco had gone down. He hadn’t been KIA—killed in action—but he may as well have been. He still hadn’t recovered from his injuries. His leg had damn near been blown off and he was still in a wheelchair—and still mad as hell about it.

Frisco had been Alpha Squad’s unofficial goodwill ambassador. He had been friendly and lighthearted, quick to talk to and make friends with everyone around him. He had a sharp sense of humor and a fast wit—he soon had strangers laughing and smiling wherever he went. And his friendliness was sincere. He was a walking party. He always had a good time, whatever the situation.

In fact, Alan “Frisco” Francisco was the only SEAL Blue knew who actually enjoyed basic training’s endurance test called Hell Week.

But when Frisco was told that he would never walk again, he’d stopped smiling. To Frisco, losing the use of his leg was the worst thing that ever could have happened to him. Even worse, maybe, than dying.

Blue watched the men jump down from the big bay doors of the helicopter. Joe Cat—his dark hair worn longer and tied back in a ponytail, his stern face relaxed in a smile nearly all the time now that he was married. Harvard—his shaved head gleaming like a coffee-colored bowling ball, looking big and mean and scary as hell. Bobby and Wes—unidentical twins, one big and tall, the other wiry and short, yet they moved in unison, finished each other’s sentences. Lucky O’Donlon—Frisco’s swim buddy. And the new guy—Cowboy. Harlan “Cowboy” Jones—temporary replacement first for Lucky on the same rescue mission that had injured Frisco, then temporary replacement for Frisco. Except it had been years and years, and it sure as hell looked as though temporary had turned pretty damned permanent.

They were all there, and they were all walking and breathing.

Joe Cat spotted Blue and moved in his direction.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Blue nodded, heading with Joe toward the stairs leading below deck. “The doctor checked out the girl,” he drawled. “She’s with the shrink and the support staff right now.” He shook his head. “Four days, Cat. Why the hell did it take them so long to let us go in after her?”

“Because the average politician and top-brass pencil pusher doesn’t have a clue what a SEAL team can do.” Joe Cat unfastened his battle vest, heading directly toward the mess hall.

“So a fifteen-year-old girl is brutalized for four days while we sit around with our thumbs up our—”

Cat stopped walking, turning to face Blue. “Yeah, it bugs me too,” he said. “But it’s over now. Let it go.”

“You think Karen Branford is gonna just let it go?”

Blue could see from Cat’s dark eyes that the CO didn’t like the answer to that question. “She’s alive,” he said quietly. “That’s much better than the alternative.”

Blue took a deep breath. He was right. Cat was right. He exhaled loudly. “Sorry.” They started walking again. “It’s just… The girl reminded me of someone I used to know back in Hatboro Creek. A girl named Lucy. Lucy Tait.”

Joe Cat eyed him with feigned astonishment as they turned the corner into the mess hall. “Yo,” he said. “Am I hearing you correctly? You actually knew other girls besides Jenny Lee Beaumont in Hatboro Creek? I thought the sun rose and set with Jenny Lee, and all other girls were rendered invisible by her magnificent shine.”

Blue staunchly ignored Cat’s teasing tone. “Lucy wasn’t a girl,” he said, pouring black, steaming coffee into a paper cup. “She was just…a kid.”

“Maybe you should look her up while you’re back in South Carolina for the wedding.”

Blue shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Cat took a mug from the rack, regarding Blue speculatively. “You sure you want to go to this wedding?” he asked. “You know, I can arrange for Alpha Squad to be part of some vital training mission if you need an excuse not to be there.”

“It’s my brother’s wedding.”

“Gerry’s your stepbrother,” Cat noted, “and he happens to be marrying Jenny Lee, your high-school sweetheart and the only woman I’ve ever heard you talk about—with the exception now of this Lucy Tait.”

Blue took a swallow of the coffee. It was strong and hot and it burned all the way down. “I told him I’d be his best man.”

Joe Cat’s teeth were clenched as he gazed at Blue. The muscle worked in his jaw. “He shouldn’t have asked you for that,” he said. “He wants you there, giving him your stamp of approval, so he can stop feeling guilty about stealing Jenny Lee from you.”

Blue crumpled up his empty paper cup, then tossed it into the garbage. “He didn’t steal her,” he said. “She was in love with him right from the start.”

CHAPTER 1

It was going to be the wedding of the year—shoot, it was going to be the wedding of the decade. And Lucy Tait was going to be there.

Oh, not that she’d be invited. No, Lucy wasn’t going to get one of those fancy, gold-lettered invitations printed on heavy, cream-colored stock, no way. She was going to this wedding as a hired hand—first to keep the traffic moving outside Hatboro Creek’s posh country club and then to stand inside the ballroom, guarding the pile of expensive wedding gifts.

Lucy adjusted the collar of her police uniform as she cruised Main Street in her patrol car, searching for a parking spot near Bobby Joe’s Grill.

Not that she’d expected to be invited to Jenny Lee Beaumont’s nuptials. She’d never run with that crowd, not even back in high school. But man, back then, back when Lucy was a scrawny freshman and blond, beautiful homecoming queen Jenny Lee had been a senior, Lucy had desperately wanted to join Jenny’s exclusive club.

She would never have admitted it. The same way she would never have admitted the reason she wanted so desperately to be close to Jenny Lee—namely, Blue McCoy.

Blue McCoy.

Rumor had it he was coming back to town for his stepbrother’s wedding.

Blue McCoy.

With dark blond hair and dark blue eyes that burned with an intensity that made her heart stand still, Blue McCoy had haunted all of Lucy’s adolescent dreams. He was the hero of her teenaged years—a loner, quiet, dark and dangerous, capable of just about anything.

Including winning beautiful Jenny Lee Beaumont’s heart.

Except Jenny Lee wasn’t going to marry Blue McCoy on Saturday afternoon. She was marrying his stepbrother, Gerry. He was two years older than Blue, with a quicksilver smile, movie-star good looks and a happy-go-lucky attitude. Some people might have found Gerry the more attractive of the McCoy boys.

Apparently Jenny Lee had.

Lucy found a parking place a block down from the Grill and turned off the patrol car’s powerful engine. On second thought, she turned the key again and pushed the buttons to raise the power windows. The summer sky looked threatening. Lucy was willing to bet it was going to pour before she finished her lunch.

She checked to make sure her sidearm was secured in her belt holster as she hurried down the sidewalk. She was already ten minutes late, and her friend Sarah’s self-imposed work schedule didn’t allow her to take more than a hour for lunch.

The Grill was crowded, as usual, but Sarah was saving a table. Lucy slid into the booth, across from her friend.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

Sarah just smiled. “I would have ordered lunch,” she said. “But Iris hasn’t worked her way around to this part of the room.”

Lucy leaned back against the plastic cushion of the bench seat. She let out a burst of air that lifted her bangs up off her forehead. “I haven’t stopped running since 7 a.m.” She eyed her friend. Sarah looked tired and hot, her dark hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail, dark circles under her hazel eyes. “How are you?”

“I’m nine months pregnant with a child that has obviously decided not to be born until he’s old enough to vote,” Sarah said dryly. “It’s ninety-seven degrees in the shade, my back hurts when I lie down, my sciatic nerve acts up when I sit, I have a review deadline that I can’t possibly make because I’ve spent the past three days cooking instead of writing, my husband has been home from his shift at the hospital four hours in the past forty-eight, my mother-in-law calls every five minutes to see if my water has broken, I miss living in Boston and this is the first chance I’ve had in nearly a week to complain.”

Lucy grinned. “Then don’t stop now.”

“No, no, I’m done,” Sarah said, fanning herself with her napkin.

“Afternoon, ladies.” Iris took her pen from behind her ear and held it poised over her ordering pad. “What can I get you today?”

“I’d like some marzipan,” Sarah said.

Iris sighed good-naturedly, pushing a stray red curl back up into her bun. “Honey, I told you before, if it’s not on the menu…”

“I need some marzipan,” Sarah said almost desperately. “Almond paste. Or maybe a piece of my mother’s fruitcake. I haven’t been able to think about anything else for days….”

“We’ll both take a turkey club,” Lucy said smoothly, “on whole wheat, mustard, no mayo, extra pickles.”

“Sorry, hon,” Iris murmured to Sarah as she moved on to the next table.

“My life,” Sarah intoned dramatically, “is an endless string of disappointments.”

Lucy had to laugh. “You’re married to the nicest guy in town, you’re about to have a baby, you just won a prize for your music and you’re disappointed?”

Sarah leaned forward. “I’m insanely jealous of you,” she said. “You still have a waistline. You can see your feet without craning your neck. You—” She broke off, staring across the room toward the door. “Don’t look now, but I think we’re being invaded.”

Lucy turned around as the glass door to the grill swung open and a man in green army fatigues, carrying a heavy-looking green duffel bag casually over one shoulder, came inside.

He was clearly a soldier, except on second glance his uniform wasn’t quite inspection ready. The first thing Lucy noticed was his arms. The sleeves had been torn from his green shirt at the shoulders and his arms were muscular and strong. He looked as if he could easily bench-press three times his body weight. He wore his shirt open at the collar and unbuttoned halfway down his broad chest. His fatigue pants fit him comfortably, but instead of clunky black army boots, he wore only sandals on his feet.

He had sunglasses on, but his gaze swept quickly around the room and Lucy imagined that he didn’t miss much.

His hair was thick and a dark, sandy blond.

And his face was one she recognized.

Lucy would have known Blue McCoy anywhere. That strong chin, his firm, unsmiling mouth, those rugged cheekbones and straight nose. Twelve years of living had added power and strength to his already strong face. The lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened, adding a sense of compassion or wisdom to his unforgivingly stern features.

He had been good-looking as a teenaged boy. As a man, he was impossibly handsome.

Lucy was staring. She couldn’t help herself. Blue McCoy was back in town, larger than life.

He finished his quick inspection of the room and his eyes returned to her. As Lucy watched, Blue took off his sunglasses. His eyes were still the brightest shade of blue she’d ever seen in her life, and as he met her gaze she felt frozen in place, hypnotized.

He nodded at her, just once, still unsmiling, and then Iris breezed past him.

“Sit anywhere, hon!” she called out to him.

The spell was broken. Blue looked away from Lucy and she turned back to the table and Sarah.

“Do you know him?” Sarah asked, her sharp eyes missing nothing—particularly not the blush that was heating Lucy’s cheeks. “You do, don’t you?”

“Not really, no,” Lucy said, then admitted, “I mean, I know who he is, but…” She shook her head.

“Who is he?”

Lucy glanced up again, but Blue was busy stashing his duffel bag underneath a table on the far side of the room. “Blue McCoy.” Lucy spoke softly, as if he might overhear even from across the noisy restaurant.

“That’s Gerry McCoy’s brother? He looks nothing like him.”

“They’re stepbrothers,” Lucy explained. “Blue’s mother married Gerry’s father, only she died about five months after the wedding. Mr. McCoy adopted Blue shortly after that. The way I hear it, neither Mr. McCoy nor Blue was happy with that arrangement. Apparently they didn’t get along too well, but Blue had nowhere else to go.”

“I guess not, since he didn’t make it back into town when Mr. McCoy died a few years ago,” Sarah commented.

“Gerry told me Blue was part of Desert Storm,” Lucy said. “He couldn’t get leave, not then, and Gerry didn’t want to hold up the funeral, not indefinitely like that.”

“Gerry’s brother is in the army?”

“Navy,” Lucy corrected her. “He’s Special Operations—a Navy SEAL.”

“A what?”

“SEAL,” Lucy said. “It stands for Sea, Air and Land. SEALs are like super commandos. They’re experts in everything from…I don’t know…underwater demolition to parachute assaults to…piloting state-of-the-art jets. They have these insane training sessions where they learn to work as a team under incredible stress. There’s this one week—Hell Week—where they’re allowed only four hours of sleep all week. They have to sleep in fifteen-minute segments, while air-raid sirens are wailing. If they quit, they’re out of the program. It’s pretty scary stuff. Only the toughest and most determined men make the grade and become SEALs. It’s a real status symbol—for obvious reasons.”

Sarah was gazing across the room, a speculative light in her eyes. “You seem to have acquired an awful lot of information about a man you claim you don’t know.”

“I’ve read about SEALs and the training they go through. That’s all.”

“Hmm.” Sarah lifted one delicate eyebrow. “Before or after Gerry’s brother joined the Navy?”

Lucy shrugged, trying hard to look casual. “So I had a crush on the guy in high school. Big deal.”

Sarah rested her chin in her hand. “Out of all the people in this place, he nods at you,” she remarked. “Did you date him?”

Lucy couldn’t help laughing. “Not a chance. I was three years younger, and he was…”

“What?”

Iris approached the table, carrying two enormous sandwiches and a basket of French fries. Lucy smiled her thanks at the waitress, but waited for her to leave before answering Sarah’s question.

“He was going out with Jenny Lee.”

“Beaumont…?” Sarah’s eyes lit up. “You mean the same Jenny Lee who’s marrying his brother on Saturday?” At Lucy’s nod, she chuckled. “This is getting too good.”

“You didn’t know?” Lucy asked. “I thought everyone in town knew. It seems it’s all anyone’s talking about—whether or not Blue McCoy will show up to the wedding of his stepbrother and his high-school sweetheart.”

“Apparently the answer to that question is yes,” Sarah said, glancing across the room at the man in uniform.

Lucy took a bite of her turkey sandwich, carefully not turning around to look at this man she found so fascinating. Sarah was right. The question about whether or not Blue would attend Gerry’s wedding had been answered. Now the town would be abuzz with speculation, wondering if Blue was going to create a disturbance or rise to his feet when the preacher said “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The temptation proved too intense, and Lucy glanced over her shoulder. Blue was eating his lunch and reading the past week’s edition of the Hatboro Creek Gazette. His blond hair fell across his forehead, almost into his eyes, and he pushed it back with a smooth motion that caused the muscles in his right arm to ripple. As if he could feel her watching him, he looked up and directly into her eyes.

Lucy’s stomach did circus tricks as she quickly, guiltily, looked away. God, you would think she was fifteen again and sneaking around the marina where Blue worked, hoping for a peek at him. But he hadn’t noticed her then and he certainly wouldn’t notice her now. She was still decidedly not the Jenny Lee Beaumont type.

“What was his mother thinking when she named him Blue?” Sarah wondered aloud.

“His real name is Carter,” Lucy said. “Blue is a nickname—it’s short for ‘Blue Streak.”’

“Don’t tell me,” Sarah said. “He talks all the time.”

Lucy had to laugh at that. Blue McCoy was not known for running on at the mouth. “I don’t know when he first got the nickname,” she said, “but he’s a runner. He broke all kinds of speed records for sprinting and long-distance races back in junior high and high school.”

Sarah nodded, peering around Lucy to get another peek at Blue.

Lucy’s police walkie-talkie went off at nearly the exact instant the skies opened up with a crash of thunder.

“Report of a 415 in progress at the corner of Main and Willow,” Annabella’s voice squawked over the radio’s tinny speaker. “Possible 10-91A. Lucy, what’s your location?”

Main and Willow was less than a block and a half from the Grill, in the opposite direction of her patrol car. It would take her less time to jog over there than it would to get to her car and drive. Lucy quickly swallowed a half-chewed bite of her sandwich and thumbed the talk switch to her radio. “The Grill,” she said, already halfway out of the booth. “I’m on it. But unless you want me to stop at my car to check my code book, you better tell me what a 10-91A is.”

The police dispatcher, Annabella Sawyer, was overly fond of the California police ten code. Never mind that they were in South Carolina. Never mind the fact that Hatboro Creek was so small that they didn’t need half the codes most of the time. Never mind that the police officers weren’t required to memorize any kind of code. Annabella liked using them. She clearly had watched too many episodes of “Top Cops.”

Lucy knew what a 415 was, though. A disturbance. She’d heard that number enough times. Even a town as tiny as Hatboro Creek had plenty of those.

“A 10-91A is a report of a vicious animal,” Annabella’s voice squawked back.

Lucy swore under her breath. Leroy Hurley’s brute of a dog had no doubt gotten loose again.

“Be careful,” Sarah said.

“I’ll wrap your sandwich,” Iris called as Lucy pushed open the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The rain soaked her instantly, as if someone had turned a fire hose on her from above. Her hat was back in her car, and Lucy wished for both of them—hat and car—as she headed toward Willow Street at a quick trot.

With any luck, this sudden skyburst had sent that 10-91A scurrying for shelter. With any luck, the 415 had ceased to exist. With any luck…

No such luck. Leroy Hurley’s snarling Doberman had treed Merle Groggin on Andy Hayes’s front lawn. Andy was shouting for Merle to get the hell out of his expensive Japanese maple. Merle was brandishing his hunting knife and shouting for Leroy to get his damned dog locked up or put down, and Leroy was laughing his size forty-six–waist pants off.

It was decidedly a bonafide 415.

As Lucy approached Leroy Hurley, his huge dog caught sight of her and turned. Her stomach tightened at the animal’s threatening growl. She liked dogs. Most dogs. But this one had one mean streak. Just like his master.

“Leroy,” Lucy said, nodding a greeting to the big man, as if they weren’t both standing in a torrential downpour. “What did I tell you last week about keeping your dog chained in your yard?”

The Doberman shifted its weight, glancing from Lucy to Merle Groggin, as if deciding who would make a tastier lunch.

Leroy shrugged and grinned. “Can’t help it if he breaks free.”

She could smell the unmistakable scent of whiskey on his breath. Damn, he got meaner than ever when he’d been drinking.

“Yes, you can,” Lucy said, taking her ticket pad from her pocket. It was instantly soaked. “He’s your dog. You’re responsible for him. And in fact, to help you remember that, I’m going to slap you with a fifty-dollar fine.”

The big man’s smile faded. “I’m the only thing standing between you walking away from here in one piece and you getting chewed,” he said, “and you’re gonna fine me?”

Lucy stared at Leroy. “Are you threatening me, Hurley?” she asked, her voice low and tight but carrying clearly over the sound of the rain. “Because if you’re threatening me, I’ll run both you and your dog in so fast your head will spin.”

Something in Leroy’s eyes shifted, and Lucy felt a surge of triumph. He believed her. She’d called his bluff, he believed her and was going to back down, despite the whiskey that was screwing up the very small amount of good judgment he had to begin with.

“Call your dog off,” Lucy said calmly.

But before Leroy could comply, all hell broke loose.

Andy Hayes fired a booming shot from his double-barrel shotgun, sending Merle plunging down from the tree. The Doberman leaped toward the fallen man, who struck at the dog with his big knife, drawing blood. With a howl, the animal dashed away down the street.

“Stay the hell away from my tree!” Andy shouted.

“You stabbed my dog!” Leroy Hurley roared at Merle.

“You coulda killed me,” Merle shouted at Andy as he hurried out of the man’s yard. “Why the hell didn’t you just shoot the damned dog?”

Leroy moved threateningly toward Merle. “If that dog dies, I’m gonna string you up by your—”

“Hold it right there!” Lucy planted herself firmly between Merle and Leroy. She raised her voice so it would carry to the house. “Andy, you know I’m going to have to bring you in—reckless endangerment and unlawful discharge of a firearm. And as for you two—”

“I hope that stupid animal does kick.” Merle spoke to Leroy Hurley right through Lucy, as if she wasn’t even there. “Because if it doesn’t, I’m gonna come after it one of these nights and finish it off.”

“I ain’t going nowhere,” Andy proclaimed. “I got rights! I was protecting my property!”

“Maybe I’ll just finish you off first!” Leroy’s fleshy face was florid with anger as he shouted at Merle.

Lucy keyed the thumb switch on her radio. “Dispatch, this is Officer Tait. I need backup, corner of Willow and—”

Leroy Hurley pushed her aside with the sweep of one beefy arm, and Lucy went down, hard, on her rear in the street, dropping the radio and her ticket pad in the mud. Leroy moved up the walkway to Andy’s house with a speed surprising for such a large man, and as Lucy scrambled to her feet, he grabbed Andy’s shotgun and pointed it at Merle.

Merle ducked for cover behind Lucy, and Leroy swung the gun toward her.

“Leroy, put that down,” Lucy ordered, pushing her rain-soaked hair back from her face with her left hand as she unsnapped the safety buttons that held her sidearm in her belt holster with her right hand.

“Freeze! Keep your hands where I can see ’em,” Leroy ordered her.

Lucy lifted her hands. Shoot. How could this have gotten so utterly out of control? And where the hell was that backup?

Leroy was edging toward them; Merle was cowering behind her, using her as a shield; and for once Andy Hayes was silent.

“Step away from Merle,” Leroy growled at her.

“Leroy, put the gun down before this goes too far,” Lucy said again, trying to sound calm, to not let the desperation she was feeling show in her voice.

“If you don’t step away from him,” Leroy vowed, his eyes wild, “I’ll just blast a hole right through you.”

Dear God, he was serious. He raised the shotgun higher, closing one eye as he took aim directly at Lucy’s chest. Her life flashed briefly and oh, so meaninglessly through her eyes as she stared into the barrel of that gun. She could very well die at this man’s hands. Right here in the rain. And what would she have to show for her life? A six-month-old police badge. A liberal-arts degree from the state university. A computer business she no longer had any interest in. An empty house at the edge of town. No family, only a few friends…

“Don’t do this, Leroy,” Lucy said, inching her hand back down toward her own gun. She didn’t want to die. She hadn’t even begun to live. Dammit, if Leroy Hurley was going to shoot her, she was going to die trying for her gun.

“Freeze!” Leroy told her. “I said to freeze!”

“Leroy, I’m holding an Uzi nine-millimeter submachine gun,” a soft voice drawled from over Lucy’s shoulder. “It looks small and unassuming, but if I move my trigger finger a fraction of an inch, with a firing rate of sixteen bullets per second, I can cut even a man as big as you in two.”

It was Blue McCoy. Lucy would have recognized his velvet Southern drawl anywhere.

“You have exactly two seconds to drop that shotgun,” Blue continued, “or I start firing.”

Leroy dropped the gun.

Lucy sprang forward before the barrel had finished clattering on the cement walkway and scooped up the gun. She cradled it in her arms as she turned to look at Blue.

His blond hair was drenched and plastered to his head. His clothes were as soaked as her own, and they clung to his body, outlining and emphasizing his muscular build. He squinted slightly through the downpour, but otherwise stood there holding a very deadly looking little submachine gun as if the sky were clear and the sun were shining.

He was still watching Leroy, but his brilliant blue eyes flickered briefly in Lucy’s direction. “You okay?”

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

There was a crowd of people down the block, she realized suddenly. No doubt they had all been drawn out into the wet by the sound of Andy’s first gunshot. Great. She looked like a fool, unable to handle a few troublemakers, requiring a Navy SEAL to come to her rescue. Terrific.

“Leroy, Andy, Merle,” Lucy said. “You’re all gonna take a ride to the station.”

“Aw, I didn’t do a damned thing,” Merle complained as the long-awaited backup arrived, along with the police van for transporting the three men. “You got nothing on me.”

“Carrying a concealed weapon ought to do the trick,” Lucy said, deftly taking his hunting knife from him and handing it and the shotgun to Frank Redfield, one of the police officers who had finally made the scene.

“Talk about carrying a concealed weapon,” Merle snorted, gesturing with his head toward Blue McCoy as Frank led him toward the van. “What are you going to charge him with?”

Lucy pushed her wet hair back from her face again, stopping to pick up her sodden ticket pad and the fallen walkie-talkie from the mud before she approached Blue.

“Merle is right, you know, Lieutenant McCoy,” she said to him, hoping he would mistake the shakiness in her voice as a reaction to the excitement rather than as a result of his proximity. “I’m not sure I can let you walk around town with one of those things.”

He handed the gun to her, butt first. “You let Tommy Parker walk around town with it,” he said.

Tommy Parker? Tommy Parker was nine years old…. Lucy looked down at the gun she was holding. It was lightweight and… “My God,” she said. “It’s plastic. It’s a toy.” She looked back up into Blue’s eyes. “You were bluffing.”

“Of course I was bluffing,” he said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with an Uzi. If I wanted an assault weapon, I’d only use a Heckler and Koch MP5-K.”

Lucy stared at him and he gazed back at her. And then he smiled. His teeth were white and even and contrasted nicely with his tanned face.

“I’m kidding,” he explained gently. “If I had to, I’d use an Uzi. It’s not my weapon of choice, though.”

Great, he must think she was some kind of imbecile, the way she was staring at him. Lucy closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them he was still watching her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I really owe you one. You saved my neck back there, and…well, thanks.”

He nodded, gracefully acknowledging her clumsy thanks. “You’re welcome,” he said. “But haven’t we already had this conversation? I’m getting a real sense of déjà vu here.” His smile flashed again—pure sunshine in the pouring rain. “It seems every time I’m in Hatboro Creek, I end up saving little Lucy Tait’s…neck.”

Lucy was shocked. “You remember me?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she was embarrassed. Of course he remembered her. Standing here soaking wet, resembling a drowned rat, she no doubt looked not too different from the skinny fifteen-year-old girl Blue had saved from a serious thrashing out on the far side of the town baseball field all those years ago.

“I’m a little surprised to see you,” Blue drawled. “I’d have thought you would’ve packed up and left South Carolina years ago, Yankee.”

Yankee. It had been her nickname all through high school. Lucy Tait, the Yankee girl. Moved to town with her widowed mom from someplace way up north. She was still referred to all the time as “Yankee girl.” It had been twelve years. Twelve years. Her mother was no longer alive. And Lucy wasn’t a girl anymore. But some things never changed.

“No,” Lucy said evenly. “I’m still here in Hatboro Creek.”

“I can see that.”

Blue gazed at Lucy, taking in her long, brown—wet—hair, tied back in a utilitarian ponytail; her unforgettable dark brown eyes; the lovely, almost delicate shape of her face; and her tall, slender body. Little Lucy Tait wasn’t so little anymore. The rain had softened the stiff fabric of her police uniform, molding it against her female curves. Yes, Lucy Tait had definitely grown up. Blue felt an unmistakable surge of physical attraction and he had to smile. At age eighteen, he never would have believed that the sight of scrawny little Lucy Tait standing in the rain could possibly turn him on.

But if there was one thing he learned in his stint as a Navy SEAL, it was that times—and people—were always changing. Nothing ever stayed the same.

“How long have you been an officer of the law?” he asked. The crowd was gone and the police van was pulling away. The rain was relentless but warm. Blue liked the way it felt on his face, and Lucy didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get to shelter.

Lucy crossed her arms. “Six months.”

Blue nodded.

She lifted her chin. “I’m the first woman on the Hatboro Creek police force.”

Blue tried to hide his smile, but it slipped through. “First Yankee on the force, too, no doubt.”

Lucy must have realized how defensive she looked, because she slowly smiled, too—at first almost sheepishly, then wider. “Yeah,” she said. “I suppose I’ve been setting all kinds of new Hatboro Creek records lately.”

Her face wasn’t exactly what you’d call pretty. At least, not at first glance. Her mouth was too wide, too generous, too big for her face—except when she smiled. Her smile transformed her totally, making her eyes dance and sparkle and charming dimples appear in the perfect, smooth, slightly olive-tinted complexion of her cheeks. Her nose was straight and large, but not too big for her face, revealing a faintly Mediterranean ancestry. Her eyes were warm and the deepest shade of brown, framed by thick, dark eyelashes. Her ears were small and amazingly delicate looking. Blue found himself watching, fascinated, as a drop of rain clung to her unpierced earlobe before dripping onto her shoulder.

“I’m surprised Chief Bradley lets you patrol alone,” Blue said.

Lucy’s smile vanished. “Why? Because I’m a woman or because I’m a Yankee?”

“Because you’re a rookie.”

“I had Leroy Hurley handled,” Lucy remarked, her dark eyes flashing. “Until Andy got his gun.”

Blue nodded, forcing his gaze out and into the distance, down Main Street, toward the marina. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? Two months? Three? Longer? He honestly couldn’t remember. He usually didn’t pay his sexual appetite much mind—until it sat up and demanded priority attention.

Like right now.

In a flash he could picture Lucy standing in the warm rain, sans uniform, water washing down her lean, shapely female body—full, soft breasts; flat stomach; slim hips; dangerously long, well-muscled thighs…. The image sent an intense rush of heat through him, heat he knew she’d be able to see in his eyes.

It was strange. In the past, Blue had always been attracted to the overly feminine type—the helpless type of woman who wore lots of frills and lace and needed to be rescued. It was true that he had in fact come to Lucy’s rescue more than once, but both times she’d certainly been doing her best to save herself. She was independent and strong. Even though she was soaking wet and only a rookie, she wore her police uniform and the gun at her side with an air of authority and competence. That should have pushed him back a step or two. Instead, he found himself inching forward, trying to get closer.

“I assumed Andy was harmless,” Lucy was saying with a frown. “I focused on Leroy and didn’t pay Andy any attention. That was my big mistake.”

“Never assume anything,” Blue said. He could tell from the way she met his gaze, then suddenly looked away, that she had gotten a glimpse of the fire in his eyes. She blushed, a tinge of pink darkening her cheeks as she looked down at the mud-encrusted radio and ticket pad she still held in her hands. She slipped the pad into her belt and tried to wipe the radio clean. She appeared to be intent on fixing her equipment, but she couldn’t keep from glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes.

Suddenly, Blue remembered the rumor he’d heard his senior year in high school that the little Yankee freshman girl had a crush on him. He’d been flattered and amused, and as kind to the girl as he could be without leading her on.

Was it possible that Lucy’s high-school crush had survived all these years?

Blue had noticed right from the first moment he’d spotted her sitting in the Grill that she wasn’t wearing a wedding band. Was it possible that Lucy was still single, still unattached?

Blue had come to Hatboro Creek today out of obligation. He’d come with every intention of enduring his visit—he hadn’t planned to enjoy any of it. But he was on leave, and his leave time was infrequent and irregular. Why not take hold of an opportunity and have a little pleasure, especially since that pleasure seemed to be handing itself to him on a silver platter? Why not? Especially since the attraction he was feeling right now was stronger than anything he’d felt in a long, long time.

“I, um, I better go,” Lucy said. “I’ll need to fill out a report and…” She turned toward him, using the back of one hand to push her wet hair from her face, but succeeding in leaving a streak of mud on her cheek. “Can I give you a ride somewhere? Are you staying at your brother’s?”

As Lucy watched, Blue glanced up at the cloudy sky as if noticing the rain for the first time. It was finally starting to let up. He pushed his hair back from his face but didn’t meet Lucy’s eyes again. “No,” he said. “Jenny Lee has already moved into Gerry’s place. I thought it would be better if I stayed at the motel. And it’s not far. I can walk there probably faster than you could drive.”

Lucy nodded, wishing almost inanely that he would smile at her again, or that he would look at her and let her get a second glance at that slow-burning heat she’d imagined she’d seen in his eyes. But it had to be just that—imagined. Blue McCoy would never be interested in her.

Would he?

“I wish I could think of a way to thank you properly for what you did,” she said, backing away.

He stepped toward her, following. “I can think of a way,” he said in his soft drawl. “There’s a party tonight at the country club, a sort of rehearsal dinner for Saturday’s wedding. Come as my date.”

Lucy stopped short. Her first reaction was to laugh. This had to be some sort of joke. Go to Hatboro Creek’s exclusive country club—on a date with Blue McCoy, her childhood hero? But Blue wasn’t laughing. He was…serious?

Why? Lucy searched his eyes, looking for the reason he’d asked her out. Why? There had to be a reason.

She found the answer in the heat in his eyes, as clear as day.

Sex.

He was a man and she was a woman, and although his invitation had been to attend a fancy, high-society party, what he really wanted to do with her wouldn’t require any kind of party dress at all. She could see all that in his eyes—and more.

Lucy was floored.

Blue McCoy wanted her. He wanted her. He was actually physically attracted to and interested in the tall, skinny, gawky, awkward Yankee tomboy, Lucy Tait.

Oh, she had no misconceptions about the extent of his desire. It was purely sexual. There were no emotions involved. At least not from his end. But it was clear from the look in his eyes that if she went on this date with him, he was going to do his damnedest to see that she didn’t get home tonight until well after dawn.

A clear and extremely erotic image of Blue pulling her down with him onto his bed at the Lighthouse Motel flashed through Lucy’s mind. Tangled arms and legs, seeking mouths, straining bodies, skin slick with sweat and desire… Strobelike pictures bombarded Lucy’s senses, along with a thousand other thoughts.

She had been plenty reckless and wild before—but never in her personal life. As crazy as she’d been with her career, Lucy had always been extremely careful when it came to relationships. But ever since she’d first laid eyes on Blue McCoy at age fifteen, she’d desperately wanted to run her fingers through his thick, dark blond hair.

Lucy knew she meant nothing to Blue and would no doubt continue to mean nothing to him, even if he slept with her. She’d never made love to a man before without knowing that their relationship was going to grow, without hoping for some kind of permanence. Yet Blue was in town for only a few days—a week at the most. Chances were that he wouldn’t be back. Maybe not for another twelve years.

As she gazed up at Blue, he reached out and touched the side of her face, gently wiping what was no doubt a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb. His hand was warm, warmer even than the rain, and his touch sent a wave of fire spiraling through her, down to the depths of her very soul.

She couldn’t help herself. She reached up and touched his hair. It was wet, but still soft and thick. It was remarkable. One small movement and she was living one of her wildest dreams.

Blue’s eyelids grew heavy at her touch, heavy with pleasure—and satisfaction. He’d won, and he knew it.

“I’ll pick you up at 1900…seven o’clock,” Blue said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Or would you rather meet me over there, at the club?”

Lucy found herself nodding. Yes. “I’ll meet you there,” she breathed. Dear God, yes, she was going to do this. She was going to go to this party with Blue McCoy, and later… Later, she was going to live out one of her most powerful, most decadent fantasies.

It wasn’t until after he walked her back to her patrol car, until after he went inside the Grill for the rest of his lunch and his duffel bag and with a nod headed toward the motel, and until after Sarah drove by in her little black Honda Accord, giving Lucy a toot of her horn and a big thumbs-up, that reality crashed in.

What the hell did Lucy think she was doing? Was a one-night stand with Blue McCoy—no matter that he was the man of her hottest dreams—worth the talk and gossip and speculative looks she’d have to endure weeks and even months after he’d gone? Was one night—or even two or three nights—worth the silence that was sure to follow? Because Lucy had no false expectations. Blue would not write. He would not call. He could be killed on a training mission, and she’d be the very last to know.

Could she really love a man she knew would be loving someone else, some other woman, this time next month—or hell, maybe even next week?

She wished she could call Edgar, wished she could tell him about Blue’s invitation, wished they could talk it over, hash it out. But even though Edgar wasn’t around, Lucy knew exactly what he would have said.

Go for it.

Edgar was the only person Lucy had ever told about her high-school crush on Blue. He was the only one who had known that she still carried a torch for a guy she never even really knew.

Yeah, go for it was what Edgar would have said.

And then he would have reminded her to have safe sex.

Safe sex. Now there was an oxymoron if Lucy had ever heard one. A condom would help with some of the physical dangers. But what about her emotional safety? What kind of protection could she use to ensure herself that?

Down at the police station, Lucy went through the motions, taking a shower; putting on a clean, dry uniform; filling out the forms and reports. But all afternoon, she asked herself the same questions over and over again. Could she really go out with Blue tonight, knowing damn well where it was going to lead?

The answer wavered between Edgar’s possible go for it and no. No, it wasn’t worth it. No, she couldn’t do this. Could she? How could she pass up her wildest, hottest sexual fantasy?

But every time she told herself no and started to pick up the phone to dial the Lighthouse Motel, where Blue was staying, Lucy remembered the liquid desire in his eyes and the hot touch of his hand on her face.

She remembered the answering pull of her own longing and need, the promise of a wild, reckless passion the likes of which she’d never known.

And she knew exactly why she’d said yes.

CHAPTER 2

Lucy pulled her truck into the Hatboro Country Club’s elegant driveway, feeling out of place. She parked in the back lot, unwilling to leave the keys to her trusty but beat-up old Ford four-by-four with the valets. She couldn’t stand the thought of them snickering as they pulled it alongside the Town Cars and Cadillacs. She also wasn’t sure she could handle walking in the front entrance of the posh country club wearing this little black dress she’d borrowed from Sarah. Little was the key word. It was sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline and a keyhole back, and it hugged Lucy’s body, ending many, many inches above her knees. On Sarah, the tight skirt had been short, but Lucy was at least four inches taller than her friend. Aided further by high heels, the dress made Lucy’s long legs appear as if they went on forever—an effect, Sarah had pointed out, that would not be lost on Blue McCoy.

Lucy glanced in one of the mirrors that lined the hall as she went in the country club’s back door.

Sarah had fixed her hair, too, piling it on top of her head. It seemed as if Lucy had casually swept it up off her neck, but in reality the carefree look had taken the solid part of a half hour to achieve.

She was also wearing more than her usual dab of lip gloss. Mascara, liner and shadow adorned her brown eyes, and blush accentuated her wide cheekbones.

Lucy looked like…somebody else. Instead of skinny, she looked slender, her legs long and graceful. Instead of girl-next-door average, she looked exotic, glamorous and mysteriously sexy.

Blue probably wasn’t going to recognize her. She could barely recognize herself.

Which made sense, because Lucy certainly didn’t recognize this odd sensation she felt, knowing that she was here to meet a man who was practically a stranger—a stranger who could very well be her lover before the night was through.

Blue McCoy.

But he wasn’t a stranger. Not really. After all, he’d been her hero for years. He was pure masculine perfection—if you went for the big, brooding, enigmatic type. And Lucy definitely did.

Music was playing in the country club’s big ballroom, and it filtered down toward Lucy. She started up the stairs, heart pounding; she knew that Blue was somewhere up there near that pulsating music.

The country club had undergone changes in its interior decor since the last time she had been there. She couldn’t remember what color the thick wall-to-wall carpeting had been, but she was positive that it hadn’t been this deep, almost smoky shade of pink. The wallpaper was different, too, a muted collection of flowers and squiggles, in tasteful off-whites and beiges and various shades of that same dark pink.

Her high heels made no noise at all on the plush carpeting as she moved down the corridor toward the ballroom.

The lights in the ballroom had been dimmed, and hundreds of candles had been placed around the room—on the dining tables, on the serving tables, even in candlesticks mounted on the walls. The effect was lovely, giving the entire room a flickering, golden, fairy-tale like glow.

The dining tables covered half the room, leaving the other half of the hardwood floor open for dancing. A small band—drums, keyboard and guitar—was set up in the corner opposite the bar.

Lucy recognized many of the people scattered about the big room. It was a who’s who of the county’s wealthiest and most powerful citizens. The police chief and his wife were there, as was the president of the bank. The mayor and his wife were chatting with the owner of Carolina Island, the seaside resort located several miles north of the Hatboro Creek town line.

The women wore glittering gowns and the men were dressed in black tuxedos—all except for one. One man—Blue McCoy—was dressed in the resplendent, almost shimmering white of a naval dress uniform. As he turned, the candlelight gleamed on the rows and rows and rows of ribbons and medals he wore on his chest.

His shoulders appeared impossibly broad, with his well-tailored uniform jacket tapering down to his lean hips. He wore officer’s insignia, and Lucy was reminded that Blue was a full lieutenant—unless he’d been even further promoted since the last time she’d asked Gerry about his stepbrother’s naval career.

He was carrying a white hat in his hands. His hair, a dark, shining golden blond, reflected the dim light. He was talking to Mitch Casey, the chairman of Hatboro Creek’s chamber of commerce. Blue’s tanned face looked so serious, so stern, as he nodded at something Casey was saying. He was listening intently, but his blue eyes kept straying toward the front entrance, as if he were waiting for someone. Her? Lucy felt a flash of pleasure. He was. Blue McCoy was watching and waiting for her.

He held himself slightly stiffly, as if he wasn’t quite comfortable in his surroundings. But why should he be? Gerry and his father were the ones who had had the memberships to the country club. Throughout high school, Blue had chosen to hang out and work down by the docks where he kept his little powerboat.

Even when Blue was dating Jenny Lee Beaumont he had stayed away from the country-club set. He’d been a loner back in high school, with only one or two friends who were also outcasts or misfits. He wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle that he’d rebuilt from parts, yet unlike the other tough kids, his grades were exceptionally above average. Still, he had a reputation for being a troublemaker simply because he looked the part.

Even back in high school Blue had been slow to smile. He’d been serious and quietly watchful, missing nothing but rarely stepping in. Unless, of course, the cruel teenaged teasing and rudeness went beyond the limits—like the time five members of the boys’ junior-varsity baseball team decided to demonstrate just how unhappy they were that a girl, a Yankee girl, had made the cut and gotten onto the team.

Lucy could hold her own in a fair fight, but five to one were tough odds.

Until Blue fearlessly stepped in, ending the violence with his mere presence. The other kids had learned to keep their distance from him, wary of his quietly seething temper and his ability—and willingness—to fight. And to fight dirty, if he had to.

Apparently he’d had to more than a few times.

According to the story Lucy had heard, Blue had been five when Gerry’s father had adopted the little boy out of obligation. Apparently neither Blue nor Mr. McCoy had been overly happy about that, but Blue had had nowhere else to go. Blue had grown up in his elder stepbrother’s shadow, clearly a burden to his stepfather. Was it any wonder that the little boy should have quickly become self-sufficient and self-reliant? And quietly grim?

Was it any wonder that both the boy and the man he’d become were watchful, intensely serious and slow to smile?

Lucy remembered the way Blue had smiled at her that afternoon. Had Blue smiled at Jenny Lee that way back in high school? It was hard to believe that he had. If he had, with a smile like that, surely Jenny would be marrying Blue this coming Saturday rather than his elder stepbrother.

As Lucy watched, Blue’s attention was pulled away from both the main entrance and Mitch Casey when Gerry McCoy and Jenny Lee Beaumont swept onto the dance floor.

Jenny was wearing a long, pink dress that set off her soft, blond curls and her peaches-and-cream complexion. It had been fifteen years since she’d been in high school, but her skin was still smooth and clear. She still looked like the captain of the cheerleading squad, with her sweet smile and perfect, beautiful features—a fact that no doubt had helped her land her job as entertainment news reporter for the local TV station.

Gerry, however, looked tense, his smile forced as he led his bride-to-be in a slow dance. Was he feeling threatened, perhaps, by his stepbrother’s larger-than-life presence?

Physically, the two men couldn’t have been less alike. Gerry was taller than Blue but slighter, almost willowy, if that word could be used to describe a man. Although they both had blond hair, Gerry’s was a lighter, paler shade, and his hair was fine and slightly thinning on top, not thick and wavy like Blue’s. And though Blue’s smiles were scarce, Gerry’s were almost constant. In fact, Gerry’s carefree, fun-time, no-worries attitude contrasted so sharply with Blue’s serious intensity that Lucy found it hard to believe the two men had lived under the same roof as young boys. It seemed almost impossible that they’d shared a home and not driven each other crazy with their different approaches to life.

But the talk around town was that despite their differences, Gerry and Blue had been closer than many blood brothers, that their strengths and weaknesses had complemented one another. Lucy didn’t know for sure that that was true. By the time she and her mother had moved to Hatboro Creek, Gerry was off at college, and by the time Gerry returned after college, Blue had already left to join the Navy.

Lucy gazed across the ballroom, studying Blue’s face, watching him as he watched Gerry dance with Jenny Lee.

His gaze swept around the room, passing directly over Lucy with no glint of recognition, as if she weren’t even there—or as if he’d forgotten that she even existed, as if she paled so absolutely compared with Jenny Lee.

Lucy’s stomach clenched in disappointment. But really now, she scolded herself. What did she expect? Did she honestly think she’d be anything to Blue but a poor substitute for the woman he truly wanted? She had to keep her imagination in line here. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start believing that Blue had unconsciously reached out to her because deep down he was searching desperately for a good woman to love. Or she might start believing that she could make Blue fall in love with her, that just one glorious night of lovemaking with Lucy would soften his damaged heart.

No, the sad truth was, Lucy had come here tonight with her eyes wide open. She knew exactly what Blue wanted from her. He wanted sex. No strings, no desperate search, no falling in love, no softening hearts.

She knew that, and she’d come anyway.

Except now the way Blue’s eyes seemed to look right through her signified a decided lack of interest on his part.

Lucy was a fool for thinking she could ever compete with Jenny Lee. Even though Jenny was engaged to marry another man, she was so pretty and sweet it was crazy to think that Blue wouldn’t be carrying a torch for her. No doubt he’d asked Lucy here tonight hoping for a distraction—a distraction that she’d failed to provide.

Lucy knew she should turn away, walk out of the room and down the long corridor to the stairs that led out to the back parking lot. But she couldn’t move. She could only gaze at Blue and wish that things were different.

His rugged features were impassive, his eyes revealing nothing—no emotion, nothing. And that, of course, convinced Lucy that there was something Blue was working so hard to hide.

On the other hand, she had to admit it was a no-win situation for Blue. She knew that she was not the only person in the room watching him for his reaction to his stepbrother and his former sweetheart’s dance. If he smiled, it would be with “bittersweet longing.” If he frowned, it would be with “barely concealed jealousy.”

No, Blue’s were not easy shoes to be in right now, and Lucy had to give the man credit for showing up in the first place.

Shoes. Blue wasn’t wearing shoes, Lucy realized suddenly. He was wearing sandals. He was wearing his gleaming white navy dress uniform with rows and rows of ribbons and medals on his chest, and a pair of leather sandals on his feet.

As more and more people moved out onto the dance floor, Blue turned away and headed for the French doors that led out onto the patio. The doors were closed tonight. It was too hot to keep them open. The air-conditioning would escape and the muggy night air would be let in.

With his hand on the doorknob, Blue turned back and looked across the room—directly at Lucy. This time he didn’t look through her. This time he met her eyes. He moved his head almost imperceptibly, but his message was clear. Follow him outside.

Lucy’s heart was pounding as she moved along the ballroom wall toward the patio doors. Perhaps she’d been wrong. Blue did recognize her. He did know she was here. It took her several minutes to work her way around the room, but finally she reached the French doors and slipped out onto the patio.

The sounds of the music and laughter from the party became muffled and distant as she shut the door behind her. The heat brushed against her face and arms like something solid. The moon was nearly full and it glowed through a haze of high clouds.

The patio was wide and made of carefully evened-off flagstones, with a decorative cast-iron railing surrounding it. Several chairs and tables with flickering citronella candles were set up around the edges. Japanese lanterns were strung overhead, but the pale light they cast couldn’t compete with the moonlight.

As Lucy stood and let her eyes grow accustomed to the dimness, she saw Blue in the shadows, leaning against the railing, just watching her.

Blue couldn’t believe his eyes. That was strange, because he’d been a lot of places, seen both the best and the worst that humanity could offer, and he’d begun to think that nothing could ever surprise him.

But Lucy Tait, dressed to kill in a sexy black dress, with her legs looking at least seven miles long, with her hair piled sophisticatedly atop her head and her brown eyes made up and smoldering, had proven him wrong.

He’d expected her to arrive at the country club wearing something demure and functional. He’d expected he would have to use his imagination to see beyond her clothing to the woman he suspected was underneath.

She started toward him, and he felt his pulse kick into the double time of anticipation, which he immediately tried to squelch. He hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d asked her to come to this party with him. It wasn’t until he arrived and realized that he was the focus of covert—and some not so covert—attention that it occurred to him that, as his date, Lucy would be subjected to the same curious stares and speculation.

She didn’t deserve that. He had to send her home before anyone saw them together.

That was why, when he first noticed her standing on the other side of the room, he didn’t allow himself to react. He didn’t even let himself do the double take he so desperately wanted to do.

But here in the darkness, away from all the prying eyes, Blue could do all the double takes he wanted.

Mercy.

She could have been the poster model for carnal desire. But as he gazed into her eyes, he realized that it was entirely possible that Lucy didn’t know how incredibly sexy she looked. He could see hesitation in her eyes, and a kind of vulnerability that, combined with her incredible outfit, made her seem a curious mix of experience and innocence.

Blue couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman and wanted her more than the way he wanted Lucy right now.

He pushed himself up off the railing as she drew closer. The sexy black spike heels of her shoes made her nearly his own height and she gazed directly into his eyes.

“Seems I’ve been away from town longer than I thought,” Blue said softly. He felt his body tighten as he dropped his gaze to her mouth to watch her nervously moisten her lips with the pink tip of her tongue.

“Twelve years,” she murmured.

He nodded. “So…why aren’t you married…settled down with a couple of kids and all?”

She crossed her arms, one dark eyebrow lifting slightly. “Why aren’t you?”

“I never met someone I couldn’t live without,” he said bluntly. “I guess I’m picky that way.”

Lucy lifted her chin challengingly. “And what makes you think I’m not?”

Blue had to smile. “Touché.” With that defiant gleam in her eyes, she looked so like the girl he’d first met all those years ago—and so unlike her, all at the same time.

He could still remember the way fifteen-year-old Lucy had tried to hide her pain, even after the boys who had been beating on her had run off. Her nose had been bleeding slightly, and she was holding her side. Though Blue had seen one of the boys kick her savagely in the ribs when she was down on the ground, she never cried, and tried not to let on that she was badly hurt. But there was a sheen of perspiration on her face that had told Blue otherwise.

She’d sat on the grass, knees pulled in tightly to her chest, and he’d sat down next to her. “You all right, Yankee?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping the blood from her nose with the back of one hand. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

“You don’t look so fine.”

“I just…need to sit here for a minute.”

“Okay,” Blue said quietly. “Mind if I sit here for a minute, too?”

She shook her head. No, she didn’t mind.

“Those boys give you a reason for kicking the bejesus out of you?” Blue asked.

“They don’t think a girl belongs on the baseball team,” Lucy said.

“Well, it is called the boys’ baseball team,” Blue commented.

Lucy’s eyes flashed. “So where’s the girls’ team?”

Blue shrugged. “’Round these parts, girls try out for the cheerleading squad.”

“The coach said I’m the best shortstop this hick town has ever seen,” Lucy said flatly. “And from what I’ve seen, he might be right. He put me in the starting lineup and has me batting lead-off. And you want me to be a cheerleader?”

Blue hid a smile. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“There are some things boys can do better than girls—like pee standing up,” Lucy told him, her eyes narrowed dangerously, “but playing baseball is not one of them. I’m going to stick it in those creeps’ faces by winning MVP this year—and accepting the award in a dress.”

Blue might have even laughed out loud at that, except a spasm of pain made Lucy wince. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Her face looked so pale.

“How about I give your mama a call?” Blue asked.

Lucy shook her head. “She’s working.”

“You’re hurt—”

“I’m fine.”

Blue stood up. “She works in the office at the mill, doesn’t she?”

“I said, I’m fine!” Lucy scrambled to her feet, and the effort made her sway.

Blue reached for her, holding her up. “You got a broken rib, Yankee. I’m taking you over to Doc Gray’s.”

“No, please!” Lucy’s dark-brown eyes were wide, her voice beseeching as she gazed up at him. “It’s only a crack. The doctor will tape me up and tell me I can’t play ball for three weeks. By then I’ll have been off the starting lineup for so long I’ll have lost my place. I’ll spend the rest of the season on the bench.”

“Sometimes you gotta sit out.”

“Not this time,” Lucy said desperately. “If I sit out, those creeps will win. I can’t let that happen.”

Blue was silent.

“I’ll tape myself up,” Lucy had told him, chin held high. “It’ll hurt, but I’m damned if I’m not going to play.”

She had played, and sure enough, that year she’d won the coveted Most Valuable Player award for the junior-varsity team. She’d had one hell of a stubborn streak back then, and from the way she was holding her head at that same challenging angle, it seemed that she still had those same guts and grit now. Inside, she wasn’t that different. It was the outer packaging that had changed some. A whole lot of some.

Blue let his gaze travel over Lucy’s formfitting black dress and down her long, nylon-clad legs. “I guess what I really meant,” he said, gazing back into her eyes, “was that I can’t believe you’re unattached. I can’t believe you could walk into this place alone, looking the way you do.”

“But I’m not alone,” she said softly. “I’m with you.”

Desire knifed sharply through Blue, and despite all his best intentions, he knew there was no way he could send Lucy home. Not unless he went, too.

But maybe he could go. In half an hour or so he could make his excuses to Gerry and Jenny Lee and bow out before dinner was served. Until then, he and Lucy could stay out here on the patio. No one would see them. No one would have to know.

Lucy held Blue’s gaze, wondering almost desperately what he was thinking. And he was thinking. He was planning, deciding. There was more than desire in his eyes—although there was plenty of that, too. She’d have to tell Sarah, she thought almost inanely, that her little black dress was a raging success.

“May I have this dance?” Blue finally said, his smooth Southern drawl like black velvet in the darkness.

Oh, yes. But… “Right here?” Lucy asked, breaking free from the magnetic hold of his eyes to glance around the deserted patio.

Blue smiled crookedly, just a slight lifting of one side of his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. He hooked the rim of his hat over one of the posts of the cast-iron railing. And then he reached for her.

Inside the country club, the band was playing an old, slow, familiar tune. The music seemed to drift in the stillness of the night, distant and haunting and pure.

Lucy slipped her right hand into Blue’s, resting her other hand on the solidness of his shoulder. She felt his arm encircle her waist, felt the warmth of his hand on her back.

Dear God, she was slow-dancing with Blue McCoy.

He was graceful and surefooted, and when his thigh brushed hers, she knew it was not by accident. Slowly and so surely he pulled her in, closer to him, until her breasts touched his broad chest, until their legs touched continuously. His hand moved upward, exploring the back of her dress, finding the round keyhole of exposed skin.

Lucy felt herself sigh, felt herself tighten her hold on Blue as his slightly work-roughened fingers caressed her back. Gently she pulled her fingers free from his and ran her hand up his arm and shoulders to meet her other hand at the back of his neck.

She could see satisfaction in the ocean-colored depths of Blue’s eyes. He knew as well as she did that she was probably going to end up in his bed tonight. It was clear that pleased him. It was also clear that he desired her, too—she couldn’t help but be aware of that from the way their bodies were molded together.

Any moment now, he was going to kiss her. Any moment now, he was going to lean forward and touch his lips to hers and they were both going to explode with passion. She could imagine them making a beeline for Blue’s motel room, undressing each other as they climbed into the cab of her truck, barely making it inside before…

Lucy felt dizzy. This was moving much too quickly. Yes, she wanted to make love to this man. She’d come here tonight knowing that the clothes she was wearing sent a message, knowing that her mere presence was a loud and clear affirmative to Blue’s unspoken sexual question. But she’d imagined them having dinner first—shoot, at least having a drink and a certain amount of conversation—before giving in to the animal attraction that flashed between them.

But polite conversation and small talk had no place in this relationship. Her body understood that, heat flooding her, readying her for what she really wanted—the most basic and intimate of acts.

Lucy didn’t wait for Blue to kiss her. Pulling his mouth down to hers, she kissed him.

She felt more than heard his surprised laughter—laughter that lasted only a fraction of a second before he angled his head and returned her kiss with an urgency that took her breath away.

He pulled her with him deeper into the darkness of the shadows. His hands explored her body, covering her breasts, slipping down to cup her derriere, reaching for the edge of her dress and sliding up underneath the hem, pushing her miniskirt up along her nylon-smooth thigh. He discovered the edge of her thigh-high stockings and groaned, kissing her harder, deeper, as his fingers caressed the soft smoothness of her skin, as he found the silky lace of her panties.

They weren’t even going to make it back to his hotel room. The thought flashed crazily through Lucy’s head. But they had to. There were laws against making love in public. For God’s sake, she was a police officer. She couldn’t do this. Not here.

Lucy pulled back slightly. “Blue…”

“Come back to my room with me.” His velvet voice was rough, hoarse, and out of breath.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Blue kissed her again and she clung to him, shutting her eyes tightly against the regrets that were sure to come in the morning and all the rest of her tomorrows. But for the first time in her life, Lucy refused to think beyond the here and now. She lost herself again in his kiss.

He tasted the way she’d always imagined he would—sweet and clean and wonderful.

He broke away from her, taking her hand and pulling her toward the gate. “Come on.”

“We’re just going to leave?”

His eyes were blazing hot in the dim glow from the Japanese lanterns. “You bet.”

“But…”

“Come on, Yankee. Let’s go make all my dreams come true.” His voice was low, vibrating with his desire as he tugged on her hand.

“Your brother will look for you.” His brother and a hundred or so odd guests. “He’ll wonder where you went.”

“If Gerry caught sight of you walking into that country club, he’ll know exactly where I went.”

Lucy blushed. “I’m serious,” she said, pulling her hand free from his grasp. “You know how small-town gossip can be. Everyone is going to think that you left because you couldn’t stand watching Gerry with Jenny Lee.”

“Me and Jenny Lee,” Blue said, shaking his head. “That’s ancient history.”

Lucy could almost believe him. Almost. “That’s not the way it’s going to look,” she said quietly. “No one is going to know that you left with me—no one has even seen us together.”

“And I don’t want ’em to,” Blue said. “I don’t want ’em talking about you, too.”

Lucy smiled ruefully. “Whatever they’d be saying, it would probably be true, wouldn’t it?”

He smiled, a tight, sexy, dangerous smile. “Well, yeah,” he said, “if they say I took one look at you and lost control.”

His soft words made Lucy’s heart leap into her throat. But they were just words, she reminded herself. “I’d be willing to bet,” she said, “that you don’t ever lose control.”

His eyes were unreadable, mysterious. “There’s always a first time.” His voice dropped to a nearly inaudible level. “All I know is, I’d do damn near anything to make love to you right now, Lucy.”

“Well, shoot,” Lucy said, crossing her arms and smiling to hide the way his words made her pulse race. “Maybe if I play my cards right, we can make that wedding on Saturday a double ceremony.”

She was baiting him, watching to see if her words made him back off. “I said damn near anything,” Blue said, smiling at her expression—she thought she had him retreating. So he called her bluff. “I guess getting married falls into that description. Sure. But why wait till Saturday? We can fly out to Las Vegas and get hitched tonight. Right now.”

Lucy surrendered. “We both know you don’t have to marry me to get what you want—what I want, too.”

He stepped toward her. “Then what are we waiting for?”

She lifted her chin. “We’re waiting for you to go inside and make your excuses to Gerry and Jenny Lee.”

Blue smiled again—damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled and laughed so much. But this was fun. Lucy Tait was able to hold her own against him. She was a worthy sparring opponent, and he liked that. He liked it a lot.

He’d moved close enough to her to put his arms around her waist, close enough to lean forward for another long, sensuous kiss. But Lucy reached out for him first, sweeping her hands along the lapels of his jacket, lightly tracing the ribbons and medals he wore on his chest with one finger.

“Look at all these,” she mused. “What are you, some kind of hero?”

“Just a SEAL,” Blue murmured, mesmerized by the elegant curve of her lips, by the spattering of freckles that ran across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, by the delicate shell-like curve of her ears.

She leaned forward so that her lips were only a whisper away from his. “Go find your brother,” she breathed.

He kissed her again—he couldn’t resist—drowning in her softness, marveling how one woman could be such a complete montage of sweetness and spice. When he finally pulled away, his voice didn’t sound like his own. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Lucy smiled. “I won’t.”

CHAPTER 3

Blue searched the country-club dining room for any sign of Gerry. The band was still playing in the corner, and couples were still out on the dance floor, but most of the crowd were starting to get seated at the round banquet tables that dotted half the room.

His sharp eyes finally picked Gerry out of the crowd. He was in the corner, having what looked like a serious discussion with R. W. Fisher, the Tobacco King.

Fisher had sold his tobacco farms and cigarette factories in Virginia and moved his massive fortune to Hatboro Creek about the same time Blue had moved to town with his mother. It had been more than twenty-five years since Fisher had earned his wages from growing and selling tobacco, but he would no doubt be known as the Tobacco King until the day he died.

Gerry was forever trying to work his way into R. W. Fisher’s exclusive circle of friends and business acquaintances. Blue knew better than to disturb his stepbrother now.

On the other hand, Lucy was waiting for him out on the patio….

He could just as easily make his excuses for leaving to Jenny Lee, tell her that he’d talk to Gerry in the morning. Blue turned back to the table where he’d last seen his stepbrother’s bride-to-be talking with several of her friends.

He worked his way across the room, and Jenny Lee glanced up. She rose to her feet, smiling a welcome, her cheeks dimpling prettily. Her friends were noticeably quiet, watching them both.

“Carter,” Jenny said in her soft Southern accent. “We haven’t properly said hello yet, have we?”

She held out her hand to him, and he reached for it automatically. Jenny Lee Beaumont. There had once been a time when he’d wanted this girl more than life itself. Her blond hair and blue eyes, her diminutive yet well-rounded figure, her lacy, frilly clothes had all seemed the definition of femaleness. It was funny, but now she seemed overdone—a caricature of the Southern belle, all peaches and sugar and girlish charm.

Funny, but somewhere during the past twelve years he’d developed a definite preference for spice. And for full-grown women.

Jenny Lee’s fragrant scent enveloped him, cloyingly sweet and chokingly strong. Hell, he used to love the way she smelled. Now he had to fight a nearly overpowering urge to step back, away from her, to find some fresh air.

As she smiled up into his eyes, Blue felt nothing.

He had been afraid to see her again, he realized suddenly. He’d been scared that all the old wants and needs and hurts would come flooding back.

But he felt nothing.

Except an urge to get back out to that patio, where Lucy Tait was waiting for him.

“Jenny, I’m sorry,” he said, gently disengaging his hand from hers, “but I can’t stay for dinner. I’ve got to head out.”

“Oh, dear. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you.”

As her smile faded, Blue could see lines of worry on Jenny’s usually smooth face. And when she smiled again, he could see that it was forced and unnatural.

Blue glanced at the tableful of women, all still listening, as if they were watching an episode of “As the World Turns.” Whatever Jenny had to say, she didn’t want to say it in front of an audience.

“Of course, I really can’t leave without at least one dance,” Blue said, knowing that whatever was bothering her, she could tell him on the privacy of the dance floor.

Relief flashed through Jenny’s eyes. “Of course,” she said, letting him lead her out into the middle of the room. The women at the table were still watching, but at least they wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“Is everything all right?” Blue asked. Dancing with Jenny was odd after he’d held Lucy in his arms. Lucy was nearly his own height, a perfect fit; Jenny was so much shorter. He felt awkward, as if he had to bend clear over to talk to her.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jenny said. “Gerry has been acting so strangely the past few days…so worried and upset. I can’t figure out why. Business has been better than ever. He just bought a new car, and the honeymoon plans he’s made are extravagant…. It’s not financial worries that have himd own, that’s for sure.”

Her eyes were bright with tears, but Blue still felt nothing. Nothing more than brotherly concern for Gerry’s future wife. She looked as if she was going to say more, so he waited.

“I just wonder…”

If she were Lucy, she would have spit out whatever was bugging her the moment they’d begun to dance. Lucy was straightforward and to the point. She said what was on her mind. It was refreshing, Blue realized. He liked it much better than Jenny Lee’s approach, where every tiny piece of information had to be wheedled out of her.

“What is it, Jenny Lee?” he asked. “Just tell me.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye, embarrassment making her blush. “I just can’t help but wonder if I haven’t made a colossal mistake by inviting you here,” she whispered.

* * *

Ten minutes stretched into fifteen, and all Lucy’s doubts and reservations grew bigger and bigger.

What was she doing? Now that she was taking the time to think about it, the incredible power of the passion she felt from Blue’s kisses scared her to death.

What if she did something really stupid? What if she fell in love with this guy?

Fell in love? Lord help her, she was already halfway over the edge. Could she really have sex with Blue, keeping the physical and emotional totally separate? Or would the physical intimacy send her into a tailspin from which she could never pull free?

Where was he? What was taking him so long?

Lucy had no questions, no doubts, when she gazed into Blue’s eyes. She could move in no other direction but ahead. It was only when he wasn’t around that she started to back away.

She opened the French doors and went back into the country club. Blue had probably gotten into some deep discussion with Gerry and couldn’t get free. And she—she needed a drink, something with a kick to give her the courage to keep from running away.

Halfway to the bar, she saw him.

Blue was out on the dance floor, with Jenny Lee Beaumont in his arms.

Didn’t it figure.

Lucy turned away, too disgusted with her own self to feel angry at Blue. Blue and Jenny Lee, ancient history? Lucy had almost believed it. That made her as big a fool as Blue.

She had to get away from here, fast, so she headed for the doors to the corridor. She was nearly there when the shouting started.

Lucy turned back, her police officer’s training not allowing her to run from sounds of trouble. What she saw made her heart sink.

Gerry, his face livid, was standing in the middle of the dance floor, between Blue and Jenny. And even though he’d lowered his voice, he pushed at Blue repeatedly, clearly upset and angry.

Lucy could see from Blue’s stance and from the way he held both hands in the air, palms out and facing his stepbrother, that he had no intention of letting this argument become violent. But Jenny was in tears, and Gerry pushed Blue harder and harder with every sentence he spoke. Lucy moved closer, wondering whether she should step in even though she wasn’t on duty. Not that she’d had much luck settling this afternoon’s disturbance….

The room was silent. Even the band had stopped playing. Sheldon Bradley, the chief of police, moved quickly to Gerry’s side, and Lucy was glad. He had far more experience than she did, in addition to being one of Gerry’s friends.

“I want him out of here.” Gerry’s voice started to get louder again. “Who the hell gave him permission to dance with Jenny Lee anyway?”

Was his speech slurred? He sounded funny, as if he were…

“Gerry, you’re drunk,” Jenny Lee said.

“It was your idea to invite him,” Gerry shot back harshly, turning to berate his fiancée. “Stepbrother or not, I didn’t think it was right to invite one of your ex-lovers to my wedding. But maybe you had some other kind of reason to want him here…?”

“When you sober up, brother,” Blue drawled softly, “you’re going to feel like a real idiot.”

“Stay the hell out of my life,” Gerry said, his eyes wild. “You’re not my brother. I don’t want you hanging around. I didn’t when we were kids, and I sure as hell don’t now.”

The flash of pain that appeared in Blue’s eyes left so quickly that Lucy was sure she was the only one who’d seen it. But she had seen it. Gerry’s bitter words had hurt Blue deeply.

“Come on now, boys.” Chief Bradley tried to step between the two men.

“Besides, Jenny Lee is mine now.” Gerry glared past Bradley at Blue. “You had your chance. You can’t have her.”

“She’s not going to be yours too much longer if you keep this up,” Blue said evenly, quietly.

“Is that some kind of threat? Because if that was some kind of a threat, I’m gonna…” Gerry swung at Blue.

Blue caught his hand effortlessly, stopping his stepbrother’s punch midswing.

“Now, come on,” the police chief said, “is this any way for brothers to treat each other?”

“He’s not my brother.” Gerry pulled his hand free from Blue’s. “If my old man hadn’t felt guilty for picking up and bedding Blue’s white-trash mama—”

Blue reacted so quickly that Lucy didn’t even see his movement. One moment he was standing several feet away from Gerry, and the next he had backed his stepbrother up against a support pillar and was holding on to the taller man by the lapels of his expensive tuxedo.

Chief Bradley looked as if he were thinking twice about getting on the wrong side of Blue. Still, he stepped forward. “Here now, boys. Let’s not—”

Blue ignored Bradley, glaring into Gerry’s eyes. “That time you went too far,” he said softly. “I don’t give a damn what you say about me, but you keep my mother out of this.”

“Blue,” the police chief said. “Son, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You so much as breathe her name again,” Blue continued, “and there’ll be hell to pay, you understand me?”

Gerry nodded, finally silenced.

Chief Bradley wasn’t used to being ignored. “Blue McCoy, I’m going to have to ask you to unhand your brother.”

But Blue didn’t move. “You apologize to Jenny Lee, and then you go on home and sober up,” he said to Gerry, still in that same low, dangerous voice.

Gerry seemed to wilt, to sag, his arms going around Blue in an odd kind of embrace. He may have said something, whispered something in Blue’s ear, but he spoke so softly Lucy couldn’t hear it.

“As far as I can see, son, you’re the one who needs to be making apologies and clearing on out of here.” Chief Bradley looked around the room, searching for any kind of support. He spotted Lucy. “You on duty tonight, Tait?”

“No, sir. I’m here as—”

“Consider yourself on duty as of right now,” Bradley said grimly. “I’m ordering you to escort Lieutenant McCoy back to his motel. See that he gets there without any more trouble.”

“But…” Lucy glanced at Blue, who had let go of Gerry.

Blue turned to Jenny Lee. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am, too,” she said. She held her head high despite the tears that were in her eyes, and with a withering look at Gerry, she swept out of the room.

Blue turned and headed for the other door. Chief Bradley had pulled Gerry aside and was talking to him in a low voice. Lucy briefly considered waiting and voicing her arguments about being suddenly placed on duty during her night off, but she knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Sheldon Bradley ran the Hatboro Creek Police Department according to his own set of rules. With a sigh, Lucy turned and followed Blue. She had to run to catch up with him.

“McCoy—wait!”

He turned and waited, his face impassive, his eyes expressionless. Together, they walked in silence out to Lucy’s truck.

It wasn’t until Lucy was pulling out of the country-club driveway that Blue spoke.

“I’m sorry about that,” he murmured.

She glanced at him. He was watching her in the dim light from the dashboard. “You can’t help the way you feel,” she said quietly.

He shifted in his seat, turning so that he was facing her. “You don’t think I was…” He stopped and started over. “Do you really think I would make a move on Jenny Lee at the rehearsal dinner for her wedding to my stepbrother?”

Lucy pulled carefully up to the stop sign at the corner of Main Street and Seaside Road. “Everyone at that party was waiting for something to happen between you and Jenny Lee,” she said, taking a left onto Main Street. “Everyone at that party saw you dancing with her and came to the same conclusion—that you’re here to stir up trouble, that you want to win Jenny Lee back.”

Blue’s face was in the shadows, but she knew that he was watching her.

“Everyone at the party. Including you?”

She had to be honest. “Yes.”

“And if I told you everyone at the party was wrong? That I feel nothing for Jenny Lee…?”

“I’d have to assume you were only saying that in a last-ditch effort to get me to spend the night with you,” Lucy said bluntly, pulling her truck into the motel parking lot and rolling to a stop.

“That’s not true,” Blue said quietly. “Yes, I want you in my bed, but I wouldn’t lie to get you there. Come on, Yankee, let’s just leave the past in the past.” He reached out across the cab of the truck, gently touching her hair.

Lucy shifted away from him. “Don’t.”

“Lucy—”

She closed her eyes, trying to shut him out. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I thought I could, but I can’t.” She opened her eyes and looked at Blue. “I can’t be a substitute for Jenny Lee.”

Blue laughed, a flare of impatience in his eyes. “You’re not—”

“Look, McCoy, I’ve got to go—”

“Why don’t we go get a beer and talk about this?” he suggested. “Is that roadhouse—what’s it called? The Rebel Yell. Is it still around? Why don’t we go there?”

“No. Believe it or not, I’m actually on duty now. I’ve got to go back to the station and file a report.”

“You know damn well you could do that in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “But I want to do it now.”

Silence. Lucy stared out the front windshield, hoping and wishing that Blue would just open the door and climb out of the truck’s cab. She heard him sigh.

“Damn Gerry to hell,” he said tiredly. “I should have wrung his neck while I had the chance.”

He opened the door and climbed out of the truck. “It was a genuine pleasure seeing you again, Lucy Tait,” he said in his soft drawl. “I’ve got to tell you—I wish it could have been an even bigger pleasure. If you’re ever in California, give me a call.”

She turned to look at him—she couldn’t help it. “Are you leaving town?”

His blond hair glistened in the cab’s overhead light as he nodded. “I’m heading out on the next bus. I don’t care where it goes, as long as it’s a city big enough to have an airport.”

He was leaving as soon as he could. Lucy looked away from him, afraid that he’d see the disappointment that surely crossed her face.

“Bye, Lucy,” Blue whispered. He closed the cab door and was gone.

* * *

Lucy’s phone rang well before dawn, waking her from a restless sleep.

It was Annabella Sawyer, the police dispatcher. “You better get down to the station,” she said in her raspy voice, without any words of greeting. “All hell has broken loose. The chief is calling in all available manpower.”

Lucy rolled over and looked at her clock. It was a few minutes after 4 a.m. “What’s going on?”

“It started as a 10-65,” Annabella said. “Jenny Beaumont called in at 2:11 a.m., reporting Gerry McCoy missing. He hadn’t come home. Fifteen minutes ago, Tom Harper came across Gerry’s motor vehicle by the side of Gate’s Hill Road. Shortly after that, the 10-65 became a 10-54. At 3:56, Doc Harrington verified it. We’ve got ourselves a 187.”

Lucy tiredly closed her eyes. “You mind translating that for me, Annabella?”

“The missing person became a report of a dead body,” Annabella said. “We’ve got a homicide on our hands.”

Lucy sat up. “What?”

“Gerry McCoy is dead,” Annabella intoned. “He’s been murdered.”

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