A/N's: I would have had this chapter up yesterday...but my works program wasn't working for some reason. Then after I gave up on my computer I was busily rereading my fist chapter of my new fic "The Children's Crusade." (hint, hint, wink, wink ;)...shameless self-plug)

Chapter 9

The Columbus Day parade was a crowd-pleasing, spectacular success. Marching bands from across the state, equestrian units, huge flower-laden floats, precision drill teams and unicycle-riding clowns all drew applause.

The X104 float was positioned near the very end of the procession. At a felt-topped table, deejays Dan Kitrell, Nick Wheeler, Zach Heins and one of the salespeople sat playing cards, stacks of colored chips in front of them. Sherry Jones, in a long blue brocade dress, a black feather boa around her neck, was the dealer.

At a polished mahogany bar, the imposing bartender was Mark Calloway, who smiled warmly at Dee as Jeff lifted her atop the bar. "By the way," Jeff whispered, "did Dwayne mention that he is supposed to rid by, rope you and-"

"No!" Dee hoped he was teasing.

"I'm getting worried about Johnson. He's mighty forgetful lately." He tweaked his false mustache, adding, "If you see him riding up, you're to raise your arms, okay?"

"But, Jeff-" She gritted her teeth.

"Not my idea." He shrugged merrily and took his seat at the old player piano.

Dee, her legs crossed, sat atop the bar and waved to the onlookers. They fully approved of her glittering green garb and many ran up to the slow-traveling float to get her autograph, to touch her hand, to say how much they enjoyed the morning show.

Gracious, she smiled and waved an posed prettily, all the while thinking of what had happened just prior to the parade. It was all she could do to keep from touching her lips, as though the imprint of Dwayne's masterful mouth would still be there. Invisible though it was, his brand was on her. It had been from the first time he'd ever kissed her.

There'd been men in her life in California. She'd shared kisses with a few that had made her heart speed pleasantly, but Dwayne Johnson was the only man for her. There'd never been another lover. She'd been a virgin when Dwayne had so tenderly taken her on that never-to-be-forgotten night. With his possession of her willing, innocent body, he'd become the holder of her heart.

"Hey, Dwayne!" Someone shouting his name snapped Dee's head around. "Why isn't your partner riding with you?"

Dee's eyes went to the commanding figure astride a huge black horse, as Dwayne advanced on the float.

Hat titled low over one eye, white teeth flashing, Dwayne easily reined the prancing black stallion, moving steadily closing. To the waving, admiring crowd, he shouted, "You know, I think my pretty partner should be with me at all times." His eyes gleamed and Dee colored, reading a personal meaning into his careless words.

Dwayne pulled the horse up, directing his attention, and that of the crowd, to a nervous, smiling Dee. When he tipped his hat to them and unhooked a coiled lariat, they went wild.

"Yup," he drawled dramatically, "I think that little filly belongs in the custody of the marshal, just for being so danged beautiful. Don't y'all?"

Loud applause and piercing whistles were his answer.

When a perfectly thrown rope fell over her head and tightened at her waist, Dee blinked and winced. Arms pinned at her sides, she felt helpless. Dwayne urged his horse closer, lithely stood in the saddle, and in one fluid movement, plucked Dee from the bar.

Someone softly screamed and Dee realized it must have been her as Dwayne pressed her back against his chest and said, "Don't be afraid, Dee. I'd never let you fall." And after deftly removing the rope, he held Dee as they rode the prancing stallion down the street.

Dee forgot her fear Dwayne letting her fall and waved gaily to the cheering crowd. How could she be frightened? The man she loved had her in his protecting arms. Dee was sure that as soon as she and Dwayne could be alone...

Stomach fluttering, eyes sparkling, Dee mentally planned what she would wear on this evening of evenings. She had no doubt that Dwayne would want to take her out to dinner or come to her place for a meal.

She could wear the new blue loose-knit sweater and suede skirt if they had dinner at her place; if he wanted to go out, she'd wear the daring V-backed black silk. It was sexy and elegant and he was sure to like it.

The parade finished at the far end of Broadway. There, Janelle Davis, at the wheel of Dwayne's black Mercedes, waited to drive Dwayne, Dee and Jeff back to the station.

Dee was stunned when Dwayne, after helping her down from the horse, passed the reins to a waiting stable boy and walked to the car. He climbed into the front passenger seat, leaving her standing.

A warm hand gripped her elbow and Jeff's familiar voice said, "I see ol' 'strong and silent' is cranky again." He laughed and walked her to the car.

Janelle, turning to speak to Dee and Jeff, gasped and asked bluntly, "Dee. Your shoulder! It's all pink and raw. What happened?"

Dee, her face turning just as pink, said evenly, "I suppose it's some sort of allergy."

Jeff his Dwayne's shoulder and said wickedly, "Yeah, she's either allergic to horses or to Dwayne...."

A dark head swung around and Dwayne fixed Jeff with a hard stare. "Your stale humor may go over with your listeners, but I find it offensive. I told you earlier, shut your damned mouth or I'll do it for you."

Unruffled, Jeff winked at Dee and laughed. Janelle, shaking her head, drove back to the station.

To Dee's shock, Dwayne slid under the wheel as soon as they all got out. "I'll see you guys later," he said, and drove away.

"There goes a real jerk," Jeff said.