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  But what was it about his voice that had her antennae quivering? Could he actually have sounded lonely? She shook her head as she stepped into panties and hooked her bra. lmpossible. Not Dane Logan. The white dress slid over her head, and she occupied herself with the buttons. The diversion didn't help.

  She knew lonely when she heard it and, unfortunately for her, she believed she had just heard it. Kara did not kid herself. She knew only too well her propensity for bringing home strays. Her family had learned to react with aplomb when they rose in the morning and found temporarily displaced friends sleeping on the living-room sofa. They recognized the fact that Kara could no more walk away from an emotional appeal than she could an injured child. It was a highly inconvenient but inherent part of her character.

  Kara grabbed her purse, tussled once again with the double locks and told herself bracingly, "It can't be that. He probably drank the wrong water and is coming down with Montezuma's revenge."

  The thought bouyed her spirits so much that Judy eyed her with suspicion all through a lively dinner.

  ❧

  Five days later, pacing the length and breadth of her workroom, Kara wasn't so sure. In fact, she was wrestling with some alarming questions.

  Dane called every evening. It was almost spooky, she decided. Her schedule varied each day but, with unerring instinct, he timed his calls to perfection.

  Shortly after she walked through the door, and long before she was due to leave for the evening, the telephone rang. The conversation was casual, rambling and costly. When she pointed this out he replied that he was unwinding after a long, hard day. Besides, he could afford it. He ignored her comment that he could accomplish the same thing and save a bundle by taking a long walk.

  It was those conversations that were making her so uneasy. They were so unlike Dane, so . . chatty! He discussed his progress in Brazil, talked about his family, asked about her day at the shop. She had learned more about him in the last few days than in all the times they had seen each other before he left. He was being too amiable, too . . . everything! She had never regarded herself as suspicious, but she trusted this new persona less than she did the old, familiar autocratic one.

  Once, last night, he had slid back into the old mold.

  He'd commented that she would soon be living with him. She had reminded him, once again, that in her life, bed and board trotted hand in hand with love and marriage. It was his reply that had her pacing so restlessly.

  His voice had been deep and quiet. "Don't you think I know that?"

  When she failed to respond, he had said, "Good night, sweetheart. Think about it."

  Think about it? How could she do anything else? On the other hand, how could she even consider it?

  This was the same man who had hauled her into his truck and proceeded to reorganize her nicely jumbled life-style, wasn't it? Indeed it was!

  It was the same man who drove her to distraction with his logical and analytical approach to life, wasn't it? Absolutely!

  The very same man who had expressed his unflattering opinions in a loud and clear voice when her intuition ruled her actions? Once again, yes!

  She had known from the very beginning that he was nothing but trouble.

  Right?

  Right!

  She had decided that the less she saw of him, the better it would be for all concerned.

  Right?

  Right!

  And now that he was gone she had proved it.

  Right?

  When no answer was forthcoming she tried again.

  Right?

  Well, an inward voice that sounded suspiciously like her own was saying, I'm not too sure about that. This week was supposed to be fun, but I thought it was a bit flat. I missed having the hulk around, spicing things up. He adds a bit of a challenge to life.

  Those other men are nice, but don't you think they're a bit too nice? I'm tired of men who smile all the time. And, you have to admit, the conversation gets a bit dull with no one to play devil's advocate.

  Yes, yes, I know. He tells, not asks. He's impatient and entirely too outspoken. But, even so, 1 think he has definite possibilities.

  Kara perched on her stool, a dazed look on her face. Good Lord, she informed herself with horror, I miss the man.

  Chapter 8

  "Kara, for heaven's sake, will you please sit down and tell me what's bothering you!" Judy's exasperated words finally penetrated the haze around Kara. Troubled dark eyes slowly rose to meet blue ones bright with speculation.

  Kara stopped pacing and dropped obediently into the wicker chair. "Judy," she asked slowly, "have you ever had the feeling that something is wrong, but you can't figure out what it is? You look around and everyone seems to be okay, but you have this gut feeling that something's going to happen?"

  "You know that I have to see black clouds, lightning bolts and raindrops before I realize that a storm is coming," Judy said lightly. "You're the psychic around here."

  Moving swiftly at the fleeting look of panic that crossed her friend's expressive face, Judy knelt and laid her hands on Kara's. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

  Kara nodded.

  "And frightened, I think."

  Kara hesitated, then nodded again.

  "And you're freezing," Judy scolded, attempting to conceal her shock. "Should I turn off the air conditioning?"

  "Heavens no," Kara said lightly, trying to erase the worried frown from Judy's forehead. "We'd be roasting in minutes."

  Judy perched on the corner of the desk. "Have you talked to Aunt Tillie about it?"

  "Don't ask."

  "Bad?"

  "Only if you call it bad to know that she started out the same way I did, with horses. And that over the years, with no help or encouragement, she became what she is now."

  "That's not bad, it's awful."

  "If you're interested," Kara joked feebly, "I can tell you exactly how a sense of impending doom feels. "

  "Thanks, but I'll pass." Judy sat quietly, eyeing her partner. "It is interesting, though." At Kara's indignant look, she added hastily, "Academically speaking, of course."

  "Of course."

  There was a profound silence while they thought.

  "Look at it this way," Judy said finally. "You can't identify the problem, but maybe you know what it isn't,"

  "Huh?"

  "Humor me," Judy said. "For instance, is it Dane?"

  Kara shook her head. "No, he's okay," she said positively. Dane was another problem, she thought.

  One she could worry about later. He probably wouldn't be home for another week, and she would have time to sort out her feelings before then.

  "We're making progress," Judy said briskly. "Let's handle this just as we would any other problem, using the process of elimination."

  Kara grinned involuntarily at her friend's business-like approach.

  "You've got . . . uh . . . strong feelings about something, but it isn't Dane. Right?"

  Kara drew a shaky breath, aware that they were both avoiding the word "premonition." It didn't alter the situation, but it brought some small measure of comfort. "Right."

  "Does it seem to involve the shop or any of us here?"

  "No." Kara dragged out the word thoughtfully.

  "Your house? Aunt Tillie?"

  Kara shook her head.

  "Your parents?"

  "No."

  Judy's next words were tentative. "The orphanage?"

  Kara drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes.

  "Bull's-eye," she said faintly.

  "Oh, Lord, I'm afraid to ask anything else."

  "It wouldn't do any good," Kara sighed. "I don't know anything. I just have this awful feeling that . ."

  "That what?"

  "That something's going to happen," she repeated helplessly. "And what makes it worse, Uncle Walter's been sending me mysterious messages."

  Judy's brows rose with interest. "Despite my penchant for the strong, silent type, that man fas
cinates me. He's never at a loss for words. What are the latest ones?"

  "I'm to follow my feelings."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Don't get cute. You heard me."

  "Sounds like a song I heard on the radio yesterday. Something about a sweet little gal who missed her la-ast cha-ance because she didn't follow..."

  "Please! Spare me the Tin-Pan-Alley bit. With Uncle Walter going enigmatic on me, the last thing I need is for you to break into a song and dance."

  "Sorry." Judy grinned unrepentantly and moved back to her chair. "So what are you going to do about it?"

  "What can I do?"

  Judy gestured vaguely. "Something concrete. All you're doing now is worrying that you're getting as telepathic as your scatty relatives. How about calling Juanito and asking how everyone is?"

  "They don't have a phone, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah. Well, you have a car. It wouldn't take thirty minutes to get there."

  Kara brightened, then drooped visibly. "It wouldn't be fair to take off and leave you with everything here."

  "Just how much help do you think you've been these last few days?" Judy asked with the candor of long friendship. "You've paced and muttered and scared customers away. Business will probably pick up as soon as you leave. Our accountant will love you, and I give you my blessing."

  Her last words were delivered to Kara's back as she went through the door. "But remember," she called, "if your massive protector comes around unexpectedly, I didn't suggest the trip. In fact, I know nothing about it!"

  Kara chuckled, grabbed her purse and trotted out the front door. It felt so good to be doing something. It might not be the right thing, but it was action.

  ❧

  An hour later, she was on her way. She had made a special purchase at a large department store, packed some clothes, told her next-door neighbor that she might be gone a couple of days and called Dane's house to leave a message on his machine. She even remembered to make the customary stop for additional car insurance before she crossed the border.

  If Dane found out about this, he'd murder her, she thought, dodging a spirited driver who had decided that her side of the road looked more inviting than his own. But she'd be back long before he returned, and there was no reason for him to know, she assured herself. Anyway, she was still a free agent, wasn't she? He might have adopted an annoying attitude of ownership, but she certainly didn't have to validate it by allowing him to get away with it.

  Maybe the secret was to be more assertive. All she had to do was inform him-tactfully, of course ... that she still retained the right to run her own life. That seeing him occasionally did not mean she had handed herself to him on a platter. He would listen, agree and back off.

  Like hell he would! He bulldozed right over tact, subtlety and any other gentle quality. Besides, she realized with shock, she didn't exactly want him backing off. At least, not permanently. Pondering her own inconsistent nature, she turned the green Camaro through the open gate into the yard.

  As usual, children came running from all directions, shouting greetings. The noise brought Carmella to the porch. After Kara had dispensed kisses and hugs, she turned to the other woman with a questioning look. "Fifteen?"

  "Si, God has been good to us." Observing Kara's pensive gaze, she asked, "Is something troubling you, my friend?"

  "Funny, that's what I came to ask you." She moved restlessly, looking out over the dirt yard to the vegetable garden. "Carmella, is there anything wrong down here? Anything at all?"

  "No." The other woman's voice was serene. "'We are all well. But it seems that things are not the same with you. Where is your man?"

  "Brazil," Kara said shortly. She was tempted to explain once again that Dane wasn't hers, but gave it up as a lost cause.

  Carmella smiled, relieved that the solution was so simple. "You will feel better when he returns," she assured Kara. "Come inside and we will talk."

  ❧

  That evening at dinner Kara mentioned that she planned to stay for a day or so. The meal immediately took on a festive note, and the girls were elated when she told them that she would be sleeping in their dormitory. After the children were in bed she sat on the porch with Juanito and Carmella. They talked softly, looking up at a dark blanket of sky studded with gleaming stars. Laughing as a huge yawn overtook her, she said a soft good night, tiptoed into the room and closed her eyes as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  Her sleep was deep, but not restful. She was on a ship in the midst of a wild storm. Dane stomped around the deck bellowing like Captain Ahab. The ship lurched to one side as a roar seemed to rise from the bowels of the ocean. The scream of the wind was deafening.

  "Carina! Carina!" Hands plucked at her shoulders and patted her cheeks. "Wake up. krremoto!" The words were accompanied by a series of agitated cries.

  Kara sat up, wide awake. She didn't need to speak the language to know that she was in the middle of an earthquake. And not a small one, either, judging from the grating rumble deep within the earth and the rolling motion of the floor. It was just past dawn, and gray light filtered into the room.

  Thank God we can see, was her first thought. Earthquakes were terrifying at any time, but fumbling around in the dark while beams creaked and groaned was nightmare material.

  "Elena." She motioned to the girl who spoke the most English. "Everyone to the door." She gestured frantically. "To the door. Now!"

  Shoes, they should put on their shoes, she thought. Bits and pieces of remembered information from an earthquake-preparedness class were running through her head.

  While Elena relayed the instructions and herded the girls to the doorway, Kara snatched the jeans, knit shirt and running shoes that she had dropped at the foot of her bed the night before. Later, if there was any broken glass or other damage, she could come back in and forage for the girls.

  Juanito's voice boomed from across the yard.

  "Kara! Are you and the girls all right?"

  "Yes," she called, trying to steady her voice. "Stay where you are. We're okay." Kara squatted down and held out her arms. Two trembling girls with tear-streaked faces immediately filled them. She held them close, feeling the frantic beating of their hearts against her body as the floor moved beneath their feet.

  "Elena, tell the girls to move close to me. Now, put your arms around each other and stay right here. This can't last forever." She smiled encouragingly, wincing at the sound of breaking glass. Thirty seconds, she thought incredulously. It probably hadn't been any longer than that, and it seemed like an eternity.

  They all jumped as a beam crashed to the floor and plaster dust covered them. The little ones wailed as the older girls shrieked.

  "Elena," Kara commanded, "tell them to stay right here with me. No one is to move until I say so." She wished she felt as sure of herself as she sounded. She also wished she had another set of arms so she could reach out to the rest of the frightened girls. But more than anything she wished for Dane.

  It wouldn't matter if she set the feminist movement back ten years: She would gladly wave the white flag if she could be in his arms right now. He emanated such strength and determination that she always felt safe with him. Always would. Intellectually she knew that he couldn't do any more about an earthquake than she could, but wrapped in his arms she wouldn't care.

  Hell of a time to realize it, she thought ruefully, dodging another chunk of plaster.

  Dane Logan, you'd better get yourself back here. And you'd better be quick about it. At the rate things are happening, I may not live long enough to tell you that I love you.

  Kara was so stunned by the revelation that it took her a few moments to realize that the ground had stopped shaking.

  "Come on, kids. Hold hands and follow me." She led them carefully around a tilting scrub oak into the center of the yard. "Stay right here. I'm going back to put on my clothes." She tugged at the cotton shirt she had slept in, remembering that it had been designed for comfort, not modesty.<
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  She waved and retreated to the doorway as Juanito herded the boys outside. "We're all fine," she called.

  "Be with you in a minute. I'm going to get dressed."

  Nodding, she acknowledged his caution not to enter the building.

  As she stepped into her jeans, her mind returned to the thought that was fully as cataclysmic as the earthquake. She was in love with Dane! How on earth had it happened? And just when, with all her evasive maneuvers and defensive tactics, had her heart realized that it belonged to a large, determined and rather too serious man? After tying her shoes, she straightened up with a grin on her face.

  What fun it was going to be! The first thing she had to do was convince him that what he wanted in that ridiculous round bed was a wife. And, judging from some of his comments lately, that might not be too difficult. Then they could spend the next fifty or sixty years driving each other crazy. She contemplated their future with a wry expression. He would dedicate himself to tempering her impulsive nature, and she would do her utmost to lighten him up. Good heavens, the man had a dimple that was almost extinct from lack of use!

  Thinking about the delights ahead, she turned to survey the dormitory. It looked as if a bad-tempered giant had upended it. Cautiously, she stepped over the threshold.

  Might as well grab some clothes for the girls as long as she was there. She looked up through a gaping hole in the ceiling and noted that the sky was turning blue.

  Her gaze shifted to the right. Several beams were angled suspiciously. No matter. On a day like today, with miraculous discoveries canceling out nature's temper tantrum, nothing could happen to her. She was invulnerable. She was superhuman, able to leap tall buildings with a single bound, to hold up a rickety room with one hand, to fly at the speed of light. She was . . she was in love!

  Suiting prosaic action to delirious ravings, Kara spread a blanket on the floor. She moved carefully, opening drawers and dumping their contents on the blanket. She was nearing the center of the room when the floor shifted beneath her feet. An aftershock!

  Any Californian knew that aftershocks were common and could be as dangerous as the original quake. Cursing her stupidity, she leaped for the door.