--20--

i

"Yes . . . yes, I agree . . ." Leaning back in the big chair behind Lee's desk, Amanda absently twirled a strand of hair around her finger. She'd been on the phone with Joe in Estoccia for the better part of an hour. "You're right, of course, it should never have happened."

From somewhere over her left shoulder, she could hear Lee's impatient sigh. At first he'd contented himself with eavesdropping at a distance; then he'd stationed himself firmly by the door; finally, unable to stand it any longer, he'd taken to hovering protectively behind her chair.

"Yes, we feel the same way," she continued, a slight edge creeping into her voice, "but the bottom line is that the threat has been contained. The boys are home with us now and both doing fine."

Glancing over her shoulder, she was a little relieved by her husband's encouraging smile. It was a definite improvement over the 'I told you so' she expected. He'd tried to warn her how Joe would react to the news of the boys' close call, but she'd stubbornly insisted that they inform him immediately.

"I realize that, Joe," Amanda sighed and shook her head, "but Phillip will be heading back to school on Sunday. Missing a week of classes isn't going to make much difference to his life in the long run. Besides, after being apart for five years, I think he deserves to spend a little time with his mother, don't you?"

She tried and failed to keep the irritation out of her tone. Lee and her mother had both hinted that Joe's paranoia over the Agency had made him territorial about the boys. Perhaps she should have listened to them, but she had hoped that her ex-husband's joy on discovering that she was alive and well would eclipse his anger over the danger she'd brought home with her . . . just as it had for her when he'd returned from Estoccia on the run all those years ago.

"No, Joe, we haven't made any decisions about that. I'm waiting until the dust settles a little bit. I have Annie to consider, too . . ."

This time her anger was plainly evident. Her boys were both young men now, and she had no intention of letting Joe King dictate their upbringing from another continent. Or her choice of careers, for that matter . . . although, catching sight of Lee's expression, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he might actually be in full agreement with her ex on that point.

Well, that was something she and Lee would have to work out between them. For the moment, she just wanted to return to some semblance of a normal life. Decisions about the Agency would have to wait their turn.

"Yes, the boys were very excited to find out they have a little sister. I think they'll be a big help in getting her settled in." Amanda's face broke into a smile at the noisy clatter drifting in from the kitchen, where Annie was helping Dotty rustle up something for a late dinner. "And Mother's here, too, so I'm sure that will also help. But you're right," she caught Lee's eye, "it will be an adjustment for everyone."

As Lee nodded his understanding, relief swept through her. She knew how tough this was going to be for him. She could feel his yearning every time he looked at their daughter—he wanted nothing more than to sweep Annie into his arms and hold her close. Unfortunately, the child seemed to have warmed to everyone in her new family but Lee. While waiting for their release papers earlier, they'd discussed the possibility of family therapy, and Amanda had been surprised at how readily he'd agreed.

"Yes, I know you do, sweetheart," she said, turning her attention back to Joe with a short sigh. "It is difficult to parent long-distance . . ."

Nodding to Lee that the tide of the conversation had finally turned, she pointed through the open door to the living room sofa. Rolling his eyes, he capitulated, clumsily navigating his way into the other room. He hated using crutches, but Dr. Scardelli had absolutely refused to release him from the hospital without his solemn promise that he would not bear weight on his knee for the next week. To her husband's chagrin, Amanda had been just as solemn in her promise to see that he followed the doctor's orders to the letter.

"Yes, Joe, I have to agree with you there," she said, bringing the conversation to a close. "It is wonderful to be alive. I'll let you talk to the boys."

There were definite advantages to using Lee's business phone, she thought as she put the call on hold and headed into the other room to corral Phillip and Jamie. Their lack of enthusiasm had rivaled Lee's; no matter how obstreperous Joe was being at the moment, she didn't want him to know how reluctant his sons were to speak with him.

"So, I gather Dad isn't taking all this too well," Phillip observed as she appeared in the living room wearing a frown.

Lee gave a short laugh. "From the look on your mother's face, I'd say that's a pretty fair assessment, Chief."

"He's not going to make me go live with him in Africa, is he?" Jamie asked, panic in his voice. "It's my senior year—"

"Of course he isn't," Amanda said. "But he is understandably upset and anxious to speak to both of you."

"Yeah, I'll bet he is," Phillip muttered under his breath as he propelled himself off the couch. "I'll face the music first, worm brain."

"The more things change, the more they stay the same," she muttered as she sank down. Phillip's teasing always increased in direct proportion to his distress. "Is your brother having a problem with your dad that I need to know about?" she asked Jamie.

"Same old stuff. I think Dad's been on him about his grades or something." Jamie caught Lee's gaze. "You know how he can be about sh—"

"Jamie." Amanda's voice was firm. "I'm afraid you're going to have to clean up your language a bit." She shot a quick look at the kitchen. "Annie's a sponge—she picks up everything."

"Uh, I guess I didn't think." He gave her a guilty look. "Sorry, Mom."

She nodded. "And don't worry about your dad. He's a perfectly reasonable man—he has no intention of yanking you out of school and making you go to Africa."

"I wasn't really worried . . . well, not much, anyway." Grinning at his mother and Lee, who were sitting side-by-side on the couch, he added, "I, uh, think I'll go give Phillip some moral support. I've seen his midterm report—he's gonna need it."

As Jamie disappeared into the other room, Lee brushed his fingers through her hair. "So, Joe's a reasonable man, huh?"

"Most days, anyway." Suddenly exhausted, she leaned into his embrace. "Is Phillip really doing that badly in school?"

Lee shrugged. "I'm not sure. I gather from Jamie that he's not all that happy at Indiana."

"Then maybe he should think about transferring some place closer to home."

"Maybe he will . . . now." He gave her a sympathetic look. "Did Joe give you an earful?"

"He was a little upset," she answered vaguely, unwilling to admit how difficult her ex-husband had been. Lee had enough on his plate at the moment without adding that worry to the pile. She could deal with Joe if she had to. "Still, we were right not to keep this from him," she added, almost to herself. "He's the boys' father. I don't want them to feel they can't talk to him about certain things."

"Hey," he leaned in to kiss her forehead, "you won't get an argument from me on that. A very wise woman taught me how important it is to talk about your feelings."

Pushing her worries about Joe aside for the moment, she trailed a finger down the side of his face. "Anyone I know?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Nah, it was just some pick-up from the train station."

"I'd watch myself if I were you, Stetson." Mindful of his injuries, she teased her fingers lightly over his ribs. "I know where you're ticklish."

"I am not . . ." He squirmed as her hands slipped around to his back. "Well, okay, maybe I am," he tried to scoot out of her grasp, "just a little."

"Just a lot, I think."

He gave a low laugh. "So you remembered that, too."

She edged closer and walked her fingers up his arm. "Care to see what else I remember?"

Grinning, he said, "I think maybe I do."

Swinging her legs carefully across his lap, she parted her lips in a ready smile, then ran her hands up his chest to let her fingers toy with his shirt collar. "How's this?" she asked, touching her lips to his.

"Not bad, I suppose, for a first try." His eyes sparkled, and his tone was gently teasing.

"I thought maybe I should take it easy on you," she returned in kind. "Considering that you're wounded and all."

He pulled her closer and ran his hand up the outside of her leg. "I'm not that wounded, Mrs. Stetson."

Her laugh came from low in her throat. "That's good to hear."

"Hmmm," he whispered, "you don't sound entirely convinced. I'm thinking I might just be forced to put your misgivings to rest with a little demonstration of my own."

With a quick glance at the closed study door, he took her face in his large hands and began to kiss her, leisurely kisses of exploration and anticipation that began at her forehead and ran down the side of her cheek to her ear. Tilting her head upward, he moved his lips along the sensitive skin of her neck then back up to her jaw. With each caress of his mouth, she felt one more piece of fear and loneliness chip away.

As her breathing grew ragged, he paused to look into her eyes. Then, slowly and deliberately, he covered her mouth with his, this time kissing her with deep longing. "Care to revise your opinion of my physical condition?" he asked, drawing back to look at her.

"Not bad, I suppose," she said, fighting to keep the huskiness out of her voice, "for a first try."

He sighed in mock despair. "I guess there's no getting around it. We'll just have to do an in-depth study later tonight."

"I suppose we will at that," she said, leaning into him again. "But until then, maybe I could have just one more little refresher course?"

"If you insist." Flashing the killer smile that had melted the hearts of many a temp in the steno pool, he moved to kiss her again.

"What's the matter?" she asked as he abruptly stopped his advance.

He nodded toward the kitchen. "I, um, think we have company."

Amanda followed his gaze to where Annie stood watching them with solemn eyes. "It's okay, Munchkin," she said, disentangling herself from Lee's arms and moving off his lap. "You can come in."

Her gaze focused warily on Lee, Annie took a step then hesitated.

"You know, I probably should see if Dotty needs any help in the kitchen," he said, reaching for his crutches.

Amanda caught his arm. "You don't have to leave. Besides, you're supposed to stay off that knee, remember?" Turning to Annie again, she held out her arms. "Come here, sweetie, Mommy wants to talk to you."

Giving Lee a wide berth, the little girl made her way around the coffee table. "Now Annie," she began as the child clambered into her arms, "you remember what we talked about this afternoon at the hospital?"

She nodded solemnly. "Uncle Brad had to go away to take care of the sick people," she said, with a soft sigh.

"That's part of it. But remember, we also talked about how you have a whole, entire family now, besides Mommy?"

"I've got brothers and a grandma and a . . . a . . ." Her words trailed off as she buried her head in her mother's chest.

Amanda caught Lee's gaze, her heart heavy as she saw the misery he struggled to disguise. "And you've got a daddy, too . . . remember?"

Stubbornly refusing to look at Lee, the little girl nodded. "But when are we going home?"

"We are home, sweetie." She brushed the child's hair back from her forehead. "This is where we're going to live now. You're going to have your own room upstairs, and we can paint it any color you like."

"I like . . . pink," she said, her voice uncertain.

Smiling hesitantly, Lee leaned a little closer. "Then pink it is."

Annie looked at him for a moment then tucked her head into Amanda's chest again. "I don't like it here," she said, her voice shaking. "I miss the lake."

Taking a deep breath, Lee tried once more. "I know we don't have a lake right outside your back door, but we're not far from the water. You'll be able to see it from the kitchen window tomorrow morning, Annie." He paused then added just as tentatively as she had, "Would you like that?"

Evidently intrigued, she sat up a little straighter. "Will there be sand?" she asked in a small voice.

"Well, no," Lee said. "Probably not like you're used to. But I'll tell you what . . . we could make a sand box for you, right out in the back yard, okay?" As Annie nodded, Lee continued. "And we can go down to the marina, too, and I'll show you my boat. We haven't put her up for the winter yet."

"Okay." Ducking her head, she scrambled off her mother's lap. "I'm gonna go help Grandma."

"Well, I suppose that's progress of sorts," he mumbled, his eyes wistfully following Annie's small figure as she scampered into the kitchen.

Amanda sighed. "I'm sorry, Lee. I don't know what's gotten into her. She's usually not so shy."

"It's not too surprising, I guess, given everything she's been through. It'll just take her some time to get used to me, that's all."

"And she will, you know. You're a wonderful father—the change in Jamie is proof enough of that." Leaning closer, she asked in a low voice, "Did I remember to say thank you for taking such good care of my son?"

"You don't have to thank me. He's my family—Phillip, too. And as for Annie . . ." He smiled. "I can be pretty patient when I have to be, Mrs. Stetson."

"Yeah," she grinned, "I remember. And it's a good thing, too, because from the sound of things in the kitchen, it's going to be quite some time until we eat."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know, maybe in the interest of getting this day over and done with, we should go in there and help things along."

Amanda pushed him back on the couch. "You'll do no such thing, buster. You'll stay here and rest." She glanced over her shoulder at the den. "And be here in case the boys need rescuing."

"I'll give Joe five more minutes then plead bankruptcy. And I promise not to overtax myself in the process." He gave her another teasing grin. "Junior Trailblazer's honor."

Her eyes sparkled. "That's good, because I have big plans for you later."

Lee laughed. "In that case, the number for the local pizza place is by the phone. They can deliver in fifteen minutes."

"I'll see what I can do." Letting her finger trail softly over the shadow of his beard, she stood and turned toward the kitchen. "Mother . . . Annie . . ." Her smile widened. "How does pizza sound?"

ii

Amanda slowly made her way down the hallway to the master bedroom, her trepidation mounting with each step. She'd been looking forward to being alone with Lee almost from the moment they'd left the hospital. Yet somehow, now that the opportunity was finally here, a part of her wanted to turn and run.

Taking a deep breath, she paused outside the door to his room. Her room, she corrected . . . their room. Swallowing hard, she willed the butterflies in her stomach to settle down. This was Lee, she told herself, her friend, her partner, her husband, her . . . lover.

Which was exactly the root of the problem. She wasn't feeling particularly sexy or seductive at the moment. She merely felt . . . frazzled.

The euphoria that had carried her through the day had melted away bit by bit once they'd arrived home. Reality had intruded its ugly head in a variety of ways, starting with her phone conversation with Joe, continuing through Phillip's uneasy silence during dinner, her concern over Jamie's ongoing headache and finally topping off with the three abortive attempts to get Annie settled into bed. Amanda realized more clearly than ever that nothing about this reunion was going to be easy. She and Lee had never even had the chance to live together as husband and wife. How were they supposed to start all over again in the middle of this family fish bowl?

Exhaling quietly, she fixed her face in what she hoped passed for a sultry smile. After five years apart, Lee certainly deserved more than a wife who was hesitant and distracted. He deserved . . . well, he deserved all manner of things she longed to give him but feared she couldn't. It had been such a long time. What if . . .

No, she wouldn't allow herself to think like that. Burying her feelings of inadequacy, she drew in a deep breath and opened the door.

"Oh my gosh!"

The room looked absolutely beautiful. The flames from the fireplace bathed everything in a muted glow, warming her inside and out. The bedcovers were folded back to form crisp angles on each side of the bed, while on the matching nightstands, scented candles flickered invitingly. Her husband had attempted to recreate their first night together at the Crystal Springs Inn, all those years ago. The only thing missing was the chocolate on the pillows.

"So, do you like it?"

Gooseflesh rose on her arms at the sound of that deep, gravelly voice. Propped up on crutches, he stood just inside the bathroom door, obviously fresh from the shower. His hair was damp and tiny drops of water still clung to his bare chest, a few dripping down to be absorbed by the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Despite his somewhat battered appearance, to her, he still looked incredible.

"It's wonderful, Lee," she finally managed to choke out past the large lump forming in her throat. He'd even remembered to crack open the window by the bed, just the way she liked it.

"I'm glad you approve."

"Who wouldn't approve? How on earth did you ever manage to do all this," she took in the ambiance again with a look of wonder, "on crutches?"

His eyes twinkled. "Oh, we have our ways."

She pinned him with a gaze. "You did stay on your crutches, didn't you?"

"I plead the fifth," he said with a quick laugh. "Unless, of course, you plan to interrogate me."

"Don't tempt me."

He caught her eye as he hobbled toward the desk. "I would have iced some champagne," he told her with a self-conscious smile, "but there didn't seem to be any in the house. I did manage to scare up some sparkling water, though." He gestured at the bottle nestled in the silver bucket. "Shall we?"

"Here, let me," she offered, moving quickly to his side. "You really should get off your leg."

Twisting off the cap, she poured the fizzy liquid into the waiting champagne flutes. She heard rather than saw Lee settle into the chair by the fire, and she breathed a thankful sigh. As always, he seemed to sense when she needed time. He was doing everything he could to put her at ease, just as he'd done years ago on their wedding night.

She smiled at the memory. Her feelings of insecurity had multiplied in the weeks and days preceding their elopement, to the point where apprehension almost rivaled anticipation. In the end, though, her worries had proved groundless. Lee's tender lovemaking made their first night together absolutely wonderful. It was a favor she was determined to return tonight.

Crossing to where he sat by the fire, she paused to hand him a glass. "What should we drink to?" she asked with a diffident smile.

His fingers brushed over hers for just a moment as he accepted the slender flute. "'New beginnings' seems appropriate," he laughed, "if maybe a little trite."

She smiled and clinked their glasses. "I could manage to drink to that."

"So could I."

As a slow chuckle rumbled up from his chest, she was suddenly conscious of the colorless robe she was wearing and the even more functional nightgown beneath it. "Not a very auspicious beginning, though," she said, fingering the fabric with a rueful laugh. "I think Francine must be overseeing the Agency's emergency wardrobe packets now. This is exactly her idea of 'suburban frump.'"

He laughed. "Oh, I don't know. I've always kind of liked you in blue flannel."

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "So did the Shriners."

"Well, I certainly can't fault their taste."

His eyes flashed with unmistakable passion, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. She wanted him, too, but not yet. It was almost too much, too soon. She needed just a little more time to settle into her old skin.

He seemed to sense her tentativeness. "Jamie's headache any better?" he asked, steering the conversation in a less complicated direction.

Sighing, she sat down on the ottoman beside his propped up leg. "A little bit . . . I think he'll be able to sleep, at least." She scrunched her forehead into a frown. "I am kind of concerned about him, though."

"A lingering headache after a concussion is perfectly normal. Believe me, I know from experience."

"That's what Dr. Scardelli said, too. But I'm a mother, and I worry." She sent him a slightly guilty grin. "It's part of the job description."

"Yeah, so Dotty keeps telling me."

Taking a quick sip of the sparkling water, she said, "I'm sorry it took so long to get Annie down. It's just that she's in yet another strange place—"

"It's okay, Amanda. I'd be surprised if she wasn't anxious and upset." His eyes sought hers. "It's just gonna take some time, that's all."

"I suppose I didn't make things any easier by letting her sleep with me the past couple of weeks." She bit her lip. "It's a tough habit to break."

Lee hesitated for a moment then asked in a neutral voice, "Would you feel more comfortable if you slept in her room tonight?"

Amanda raised an eyebrow. While she appreciated Lee's willingness to put their daughter's needs above his own, she had no intention of leaving this room anytime soon. "Annie will be just fine," she assured him. "Mother's offered to go to bed early and keep an eye on her."

He grinned. "Is this going to cost me another all day treatment at Mr. Emelio's?"

"Probably."

Their eyes met for a long moment then slowly their laughter faded. He shifted slightly, searching for a comfortable position. Finally giving up, he leaned his head against the wing of the chair and gave her a long look. "That's not what's really bothering you at the moment, though, is it?" he asked in a much different tone.

Looking down, she rang her finger lightly over the edge of the ottoman. "What makes you say that?"

"Your body language, for one thing." Downing the remains of his sparkling water in one long gulp, he set the empty glass on the carpet then leaned forward. "You've been twirling your wedding ring around your finger almost from the moment you stepped into the room."

"Oh . . ." She immediately tucked her left hand into a fold of her robe. "I didn't realize . . ."

Tilting his brows, he looked at her uncertainly. "You aren't having any second thoughts, are you? About us?"

She looked up sharply. "Why would you think that?"

"You were pretty quiet after your talk with Stevenson this morning. Then, tonight, after dinner, you were kind of . . . well, aloof." He shrugged. "I thought maybe—"

"No, Lee." Placing her glass on the floor beside his, she leaned forward and rested her hands on his uninjured knee, rubbing lightly. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I'm exactly where I want to be."

Reaching out, he tenderly touched her face. "I know how hard it must have been for you to have that particular conversation with him, Amanda."

"He's a good man, Lee. He really is." She sighed. "But the truth of the matter is, I'd already made up my mind even before I got my memory back."

His body tensed. "To leave or stay?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Amanda met his gaze. The intensity of emotion shining in his eyes left her almost breathless. "To leave him," she said, the words pouring out of her in a rush. "What you said in the car that afternoon . . . you were so right. Brad and I would never have worked. I didn't really didn't love him—well, I mean, I did love him, but only as a friend. Not in the right way. Not the way a wife should, not the way—"

He placed two fingers on her lips, shushing her. "I love you, too, Amanda."

Tears gathering in her eyes, she caught his hand and placed a soft kiss on his palm. "I know you do. That's not the problem."

Rising, she moved to the fireplace and picked up the small, framed photograph adorning the mantle, studying the image in the dim firelight. Lee and Jamie were standing side-by-side on the deck of a large ketch. They looked tanned, happy and perfectly in sync. Everything she didn't feel at the moment.

Lee picked up his crutches, struggled to his feet and limped closer to her. "That was taken last summer, right after we docked at the marina. Jamie had just made his first run as captain."

"You said you'd managed to scare up a crew," she murmured to herself as she ran a finger lovingly over Jamie's face. He was smiling broadly, a wealth of pride gleaming in his eyes. "I don't remember seeing this before."

He let out a long breath. "I didn't think it would be a good idea if you happened to discover it, so I put it away."

She turned to him. "Just like the photos at the house?"

"Yeah." He whistled sharply. "Claudia thought—"

"It's okay." She sighed as she replaced the picture on the mantle. "You don't have to explain—"

"Yes, I do." Tossing away one crutch, he reached out to stroke her cheek. "I owe you an apology, Amanda. You were right—I should have told you the truth from the beginning, instead of listening to all those damned doctors. For what it's worth, I did try to tell you the other night—"

"I know you did. I shouldn't have gotten so angry afterwards, but . . ."

"But what? Talk to me," he pleaded when she hesitated. "Please. I can't help if I don't know what's bothering you."

"I guess it's . . . well, I guess it's just that everything has happened so fast . . ." She fixed her eyes on the photo of Lee and Jamie once again. "For so long I felt like I was only marking time. I had no past, and no real hope of finding one. Then in the space of a few hours, everything changed. Francine and Billy turned up in Michigan, telling me my name was Amanda King. They brought me back to Arlington, to the house on Maplewood Drive, and gave me a glimpse of the woman I'd been . . ."

She drew in a deep breath, and then slowly let it out. "But that's all it was—a glimpse, a . . . a hazy outline. There was nothing inside that I could connect to. And I wanted to, Lee—desperately."

"I know. I could see it in your eyes. You looked so . . . lost, I guess, for lack of a better word."

"It's as good a word as any." She turned to look at him. "But despite all the confusion I was feeling, I started to trust you. So when I found out that you'd been keeping me in the dark about our relationship, I kind of lost it."

"I never meant to deceive you. I just . . . well . . ." He looked away. "The situation wasn't easy, that's all."

"I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for you, having to pretend like that. And I . . . well, if you owe me an apology, then I owe you at least a dozen—for everything I've put you through."

Taking her hand, he ran the tip of his finger lightly over her wedding band. "It doesn't matter," he said thickly. "You remember now."

"Yeah. But somehow that's the hardest part of all."

Releasing her finger, he frowned. "I don't understand."

She turned away and shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe. "You'll think it's silly."

He limped closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath beside her ear. "Try me," he whispered, twirling a stand of her hair gently around his finger.

She faced him once again, struggling to find some way to put her feelings into words. She just didn't know quite where to begin; she was only starting to understand herself.

"It's just that . . . well, I'm not used to feeling so . . . so complete, I guess," she said in a halting voice. "All the memories . . . they're kind of . . . overwhelming." She attempted a smile. "What is it they always say—be careful what you wish for? I know I shouldn't be anything but happy to finally remember, but . . ." She forced a laugh. "See, I told you it was silly."

"No, it's not." His lips parted in a sad smile. "In fact, I think I know exactly what you mean."

Her brows shot up. "You do?"

He nodded. "When Billy called me into his office to tell me that not only were you alive, but that we had a healthy daughter . . . well, I can't really explain it. It was such an odd feeling—I'd dreamed so often that some miracle would bring you both back to me. When it actually happened . . . I knew I was happy," he tapped his head, "up here. Feeling it was another matter entirely."

"But that's because I didn't remember you," she said in a small voice.

"Partly, I suppose. But it was more than that." His troubled expression softened into a look of inexpressible sorrow. "I think missing you had just become such a part of me that in a way it was hard to let go of it. The pain was an affirmation of sorts—that in order to hurt that badly I must still be alive."

Her heart sank. "And I went right on hurting you, didn't I?"

"Not purposely."

"Yes, but there were so many . . ." She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle her quick gasp. "Oh, Lee! That day in the Agency, when I came into the room . . . when Annie was crying . . ."

"I remember," he said, a tremor running through his voice.

The tears pricked behind her eyes again, and this time she made no effort to hold them in. "We hadn't seen each other in five years, and I brushed right by you without even noticing . . ."

"Sshh, Amanda," he muttered, his voice strained and hoarse. "It's over now. Don't think about it."

"I have to think about it," she said, pain squeezing her heart. "What I did to you—it keeps playing over and over again in my head . . . all those awful things I said . . ."

"It's all right. I'm okay." He tossed his remaining crutch aside and stepped closer. Studying her face for a moment he sighed softly, as if he had been holding his breath. "And you will be, too. We will be."

"How do you know that?"

Cupping her face in his hands, he murmured with rough tenderness, "This is how I know it."

Gently, sweetly, he covered her lips with his. His kiss was soft at first, teasingly light. But slowly and surely it grew in intensity, and suddenly she knew it, too, just as certainly as he did.

As she slipped her arms around him, he deepened the kiss, his mouth opening hers as he pulled her closer. Amanda felt their bodies fit together, shift and snuggle until there was no empty space between them, the way it had always been. Heat and light flowed through her, and a thousand brilliant colors, as if her every sense had finally come wonderfully alive. As he released her at last, she moaned out a breathless, "Oh, wow."

He grinned down at her, his memory sparked, too, by her involuntary response. "Now, if I was going to be really romantic, I'd pick you up and carry you over to the bed, just like I did once upon a time." He laughed lightly. "Only trouble is, I'm a little the worse for wear at the moment."

"Then maybe, this time, I should do the honors." Placing his arm over her shoulder, she urged him forward. "You won't hurt me, you know. I'm a lot stronger than I look."

"I never doubted that for a minute," he said, his voice deep and low. Mindful of his injuries, he carefully eased himself down onto the bed. "Amanda—"

"No, it's okay." She propped up his leg with a pillow. "Back when I was a hospital volunteer, we used to have to do things like this all the time."

His eyes sparkled as looked up at her. "I sure hope not. Because what I've got in mind right now would probably get you drummed out of the corps."

"Oh, really?" She felt that butterfly feeling growing again in her stomach, but this time for an entirely different reason. Smiling, she smoothed back his hair from his forehead. "That better not be an empty threat, pal."

Flashing her a now wonderfully familiar grin, he took hold of the sash of her robe and drew her down beside him. "It's most definitely a promise," he whispered as their lips met yet again.