Candy Halliday Are Men from Mars (html)










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Are Men From Mars?

Candy Halliday

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"I'm serious, Maddie. I'm giving you one more hour to find your
mysterious bug, and then I'm heading right back to the hotel."

Dr.
Madeline Morgan, devoted entomologist, didn't bother looking at her older
sister. Instead she kept her eyes trained to a pair of high-powered bin­oculars
as she scanned the barren desert terrain. She was on a mission. A mission that
had brought her from Georgia
to Roswell, New Mexico, and the des­ert wasteland they
were driving through.

"It's
not a bug, it's a butterfly, Mary Beth," Maddie corrected. "We're
looking for a Deva Skipper. Or if you prefer, Atryonopsis deva, to be exact."

Mary
Beth sent her sister a sideways glance. "Well, if you ask me, the only
divas in this desert happen to be sitting right here in this
Jeep." When Maddie laughed, Mary Beth said, "Well, at least one of us
could qualify as a diva, I suppose. In that costume you're wearing,
you look more like..."

"Someone
prepared to spend a hot August day in the desert, perhaps?" Maddie lowered
her binocu­lars and leaned back in her seat. "Only you, Mary Beth, would
consider wearing a tube top and thong for this type of outing."

"These
are short-shorts, sister dear," Mary Beth said, continuing their usual
sisterly repartee. "Something you would know if you stopped playing pro­fessor
long enough to get in touch with your femi­nine side."

Maddie
looked down at her own clothing. She had thoroughly researched what was
considered proper attire for the time they would spend in the desert. Like her
sturdy long-sleeved shirt that wouldn't al­low desert sun access to tender
skin, and her khaki straight-leg pants that tucked quite easily into her sturdy
new high-top hiking boots.

"Of
course, it's that pith helmet that really makes the outfit," Mary Beth
said on a giggle. "Yep, noth­ing turns a man on quite like a stylish pith
helmet. It reels them in every time."

"In
case you've forgotten, it isn't male attention we're looking for," said
Maddie.

Mary Beth tossed her long, pale hair back from her
face and dropped her sunglasses down on her tanned nose. "Speak for
yourself. I'm always look­ing for male attention." She held
Maddie's gaze for a moment with challenging blue eyes.

It
was like looking in a mirror, Maddie always thought. They were identical twins,
with Mary Beth being all of two minutes older. Yet, Maddie had always thought
of them as the opposite sides of a coin.

Even
as children, Mary Beth had loved the frilly dresses, the white tights and the
patent leather shoes their mother had dressed them in. Maddie, on the other
hand, had usually soiled her dress, torn the knees of her tights, and scuffed
the toes of her shoes crawling around on her hands and knees observing insects
of every size and description.

As
they grew older, Mary Beth had been the so­cial one, while Maddie kept her nose
buried in the encyclopedia learning everything possible about the winged
invertebrate population. Mary Beth had been the cheerleader and homecoming
queen in high school, Maddie the valedictorian of their senior class. And while
Maddie had plunged into college for a Ph.D. in entomology, Mary Beth had chosen
an acting career.

We're
identical, all right. Identical opposites, Maddie thought, but offering a truce to the sister
she dearly loved, she said. "I'll make you a deal. I won't say anything
else about your short-shorts, if you'll stop making fun of my pith
helmet."

"It's
a deal. But I wasn't kidding about heading back to the hotel within the
hour," Mary Beth threw in as she gave their immediate surroundings another
nervous scan. "This place totally creeps me out and you know it."

"Do-do-do-dodo-do-do-do."
Maddie chanted the Twilight
Zone theme in fun.

"Very
funny," Mary Beth grumbled. "But more than one eyewitness claimed a
space ship landed in Roswell
in 1947. Some people even claim to have seen the bodies of those poor space
creatures our government dissected for its own amusement."

"And
after fifty years of extensive investigation, the government concluded all
those people saw was a weather balloon," Maddie insisted.

Mary
Beth sent her a shocked look. "You mean you really don't believe
other intelligent life is out there somewhere?"

Maddie
grinned mischievously. "Maybe the sur­est sign other intelligent life does exist,
is the fact they've never tried to contact us."

Both
sisters shared a good laugh before Maddie reached out and patted her twin's
shoulder. "You know, I really am glad you came with me on this trip. We
never get to see each other now that you're out in L.A."

"If
you want to be in pictures, you've gotta go where the action is," Mary
Beth answered with her standard reply.

"I
know," Maddie said with a sigh. "But we really do miss you, me and
Mom and Pop. Though I have to admit they haven't seen much of me, ei­ther,
these days. I've been so caught up trying to map out the migration of the Deva
Skipper, I've barely had time to eat and sleep."

"And
what happens if we do find this bug?"

"Butterfly,"
Maddie corrected again. "It's a rare species. There have been reported
sightings in the southeastern part of New
Mexico, but none have been confirmed. If I could find
one, it could help pave the way to preserving future colonies."

"And
also advance your career a little,
maybe?" Mary Beth accused with a grin. "Like that research team
you're so eager to be chosen for?"

Maddie
didn't deny it. "I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't kill to make my boss's
research team on..."

"On why an old
bore like him can't find a date?" For the first time, Maddie sent her
sister a stern look.

"Okay.
Don't get all huffy," Mary Beth said as she downshifted and picked up
speed. "We'll look a little longer, but I mean it, Maddie. There's no way
we're staying out here in UFO Utopia after dark."

"Afraid we might get probed?" Maddie
chided.

"No,"
Mary Beth said with a laugh. "I'm more afraid you'll never get
probed if this is your idea of how to spend your summer vacation."

Maddie's
eyes cut to the left. "That wasn't an invitation for another lecture about
my love life."

"What
love life? Or have you finally determined celibacy is too grim a fate even for
a workaholic like you?"

Maddie
took up her binoculars again and refused to answer.

"I
hope you know you're fooling yourself. You think you're safely hidden behind
those saintly col­lege walls playing professor, but one day some guy is going
to come along and knock your feet right out from under you."

"I'll
be sure to let you know the second anything like that happens."

"But
he won't be some mental wizard like those stuffy professors you hang around
with now," Mary Beth predicted. "He'll be all man. Total brawn from
head to toe. And you'll be so hot for this guy, even you would be willing to
dance naked on CNN just to get his attention."

Maddie
laughed in spite of herself.

"Besides,"
Mary Beth added with a sigh, "we aren't getting any younger, you know. The
big Three-O is just around the corner, and..."

"Age
isn't a subject I care to discuss, either."

"Nor
do I," Mary Beth agreed. "I just hate see­ing you waste your life
away like your revered Dr. Fielding has done. And what has being devoted to his
career really gotten your boss? When he's ready to retire I doubt there'll be
any life left in his old caterpillar,
if you know what I mean."

"Mary
Beth!" Maddie scolded.

"Well,
I'm sorry, but that man gives me the creeps. Any man who would devote his
entire life studying the sex life of the tsetse fly has to have a major mental
problem. And what scares me most," Mary Beth added, "is that your only
goal in life seems to be to follow in the old coot's footsteps. Don't you want
a family some day, Maddie? Don't you want..."

"Stop!"
Maddie grabbed Mary Beth's arm and pointed up ahead. "Ease the Jeep up
that hill. Near those thistles. I saw something. Get closer."

As
instructed, Mary Beth eased the Jeep forward and up a small rise that took them
even farther away from the main road and deeper into the desert.

"Don't
get too close," Maddie warned, still using her binoculars to search a
patch of brush growing by a chain-link fence that had suddenly appeared out of
nowhere.

"Is
that a fence?" Mary Beth whispered, reaching for the binoculars when
Maddie took the strap from around her neck.

Maddie
ignored the question and substituted the strap of her faithful Nikon camera
around her neck. Grabbing a small net from the knapsack sitting on the
floorboard, she started to ease herself out of the Jeep when Mary Beth grabbed
her hand and pointed to a sign fastened to the fence. Forcing Maddie to take
back her binoculars, Mary Beth said, "Take another look. I told you we
never should have left the main road. This is government property. I think we
should get the hell out of here. Fast."

Maddie
looked through the binoculars again at the weather-worn sign that was faded,
yet still official looking enough to cause some concern. Government
PropertyAbsolutely No TrespassingViolators Will Be Prosecuteddidn't leave
much room for any misunderstanding about the warning. However, Maddie made her
decision when she checked the bush again and saw another flutter of movement.

"I'm
not going over the fence," she argued, pry­ing Mary Beth's
fingers from around her wrist. "It'll only take me a minute to get a
specimen."

"A
specimen?" Mary Beth cried out. "I thought you said these butterflies
were rare? And now you're going to capture one? Cut its tiny life short? Isn't
that defeating the whole cause?"

Maddie
drew her fingers to her lips in a quick shush. "The Deva Skipper only has
a life span of a few weeks," she whispered. "That's why finding one
is almost impossible. I have no intention of harming it, but how can I possibly
save other col­onies if I can't prove the Deva was here to begin with?"

Mary
Beth frowned. "All of you scientists are alike, aren't you? Always
hell-bent on getting a specimen. I bet that's the last words those little green
men heard, too. 'Sorry we have to sacrifice your lives, you poor little green
bastards, but we have to get that specimen.'"

"Save
the drama for the silver screen," Maddie said as she eased herself out of
the Jeep. "I'll be back in a flash."

Taking
her time, Maddie crept up the hill and along the fence line, butterfly net in
hand. She was literally shaking with anticipation as she eased closer,
marveling at the sheer beauty of one of na­ture's most delicate creatures.

And
it was a Deva Skipper, no doubt about it.

The
fringe on its forewing was brown, its hind wing a whitish color, and the upper
side wing a red­dish-brown. And though she couldn't see the under­side of the
hind wing from where she was standing, Maddie already knew it would be brown
with a gray overscaling and a faint dark bar across its middle. In a single
word, the little Deva was breathtaking.

And
it was almost within her grasp.

Inching
closer, Maddie adjusted the zoom lenses on her camera and snapped a few
pictures as she carefully picked her steps over the dusty desert floor. She was
trained, ready and skilled to take her cap­tive easily and without doing the
tiny creature harm. Holding her breath, she could almost taste the sweetest of
success on her tongue. She was only one swoop away from capturing the find of
her life when the flirtatious little Deva lifted itself upward and came to a
perfect landing on the wrong
side of the forbidding chain-link fence that
now stood between them.

Without
a second thought, Maddie stuck the but­terfly net in the back pocket of her
khakis and forced the toe of her hiking boot into one of the diamond-shaped
holes in the rusted fence. She could hear Mary Beth yelling from behind her,
but Maddie scaled the fence like a veteran climber and dropped nimbly to the other
side.

"Maddie!
Get back here! I mean it, Maddie. Do you hear me?"

"I
hear you. You've been trying to boss me around our entire lives," Maddie
mumbled under her breath, "but this is one time I'm not leaving until I
get what I came for."

Easing
forward, trusty butterfly net again in hand, Maddie was even ready to sprout
wings herself if that's what it took to complete her mission. "Come to me,
little Deva," she cooed, but when Mary Beth's screaming grew even louder,
Maddie glanced back over her shoulder in time to see the panicked look on her
sister's lovely face.

In
fact, Mary Beth was literally jumping up and down on the front seat of the Jeep
now, waving her arms wildly above her head like a crazy person. Maddie waved
back impatiently, motioning for Mary Beth to pipe down, but a large shadow sud­denly
fell across Maddie's path, blocking out the sun.

Startled, she looked up and immediately felt her
breath catch in her throat. A huge metal object was hovering directly above
her, yet the strange-looking aircraft was as silent in its flight as the tiny
Deva Skipper that had lured her to the wrong side of the fence.

More curious than she was frightened, Maddie
immediately grabbed for her camera. She was still snapping the shutter
frantically when the aircraft swooped downward, instantly blinding her with a
cloud of sand and dust. Maddie held tightly to her pith helmet, trying to
shield her face from the caustic dust storm that was now choking off her airway
and stinging her eyes.

She
let out a strangled scream when something snaked around her waist and lifted
her upward and into the air.

In
less time than it took to worry about her twin sister's safety, Maddie heard
the loud clang of a door slamming shut. She soon found herself facedown on a
cold metal floor, coughing up the dust as she tried to catch her breath. With
her eyes still wa­tering from the dirt and sand, Maddie couldn't yet make out
who or what was holding her captive. All she could hear was the definite whir
of the uniden­tified flying object as it whisked her away to some unknown
destination.

"Let me up this minute! I demand it!"
Maddie started yelling, and she began struggling with such fervor the elastic
strap on her pith helmet broke free, unleashing the long, pale hair stuffed
under her hel­met.

"Holy hell, Captain," a shocked voice
called out. "It looks like our spy is a she."

Angrier
than she'd ever been in her life, Maddie pulled herself up when the force
holding her face down on the floor suddenly set her free. And it only took a
split second to confirm that she really had been captured by mysterious green
men, after all.

U.S. military camouflage green to be exact.

And
World War Maddie was about to do battle with everyone responsible for making
her lose what could have possibly been the biggest entomological find of her
career.

 

Air Force Captain Brad Hawkins jerked his head around in time to see
a finger waving ninety miles a minute while their definitely female prisoner de­livered
a good tongue-lashing to his copilot.

Did
she look like your typical spy?

Of
course, she didn't.

She
looked, Brad decided, like an angry little girl with her cheeks blazing, her
tangled blond hair in a windblown mess, and her chin jutted forward in de­fiance
as if she'd just taken a nasty spill from her bike. Classic facial features.
Haunting blue eyes. A curvaceous figure that even her "Dr.
Livingstone" outfit, complete with a pith helmet couldn't quite hide.

She
was stunning.

And
though he told himself it was only the shock of finding a woman on isolated
government property that had left him so addled, it took several seconds before
Brad could force himself to look away.

Turning
his attention back to maneuvering the multimillion-dollar prototype helicopter
he was fly­ing, Brad aimed the large craft back toward the old air base on the
outskirts of Roswell
that the Air Force was using as a testing facility. She was still kicking up
quite a fuss behind him in the belly of the chopper, ranting and raving about
what? Butter­flies? Had he heard that right? And something about a terrified
sister? Was that who had blazed off in a cloud of dust so fast Brad had only
caught a mere glimpse of a bright red Jeep?

Groaning
inwardly, Brad picked up the micro­phone to his radio and mumbled,
"There's a sus­picious tourist in a red Jeep along the south perim­eter.
Apprehend the driver. Do it quickly and quietly." He signed off with,
"I'll meet you back at the base."

Crap!
He'd assumed they'd run across some nosey
reporter. Some guy acting on a tip that the Air Force was conducting more than
routine maneu­vers at the old base. And that's when Brad had made the decision
to apprehend their trespasser. He'd planned to take the guy back to base,
destroy the film and then threaten the reporter with serious charges.

But
who would have thought that within just three weeks short of completing testing
on the most ad­vanced helicopter known to modern man, a woman, wearing of all
things a pith helmet, and her runaway sister would stumble upon their operation
and threaten to blow the cover on their highly guarded mission straight to hell
and back again?

"And
another thing. If you think for one minute I'm going to overlook the senseless,
barbaric way you've treated me, you're sadly mistaken. My name is Dr. Madeline
Morgan. And for your information, I'm an entomologist, not a spy. I was doing
nothing more than conducting necessary research on an en­dangered species of
butterfly when you so rudely, crudely and unfairly abducted me!"

Entomologist?

He
never would have pegged his lovely passenger for a lady with a bug fetish.
Especially not with that sexy, Southern accent of hers. Yet, her unusual ca­reer
choice made her even more intriguing.

Unfortunately
her identity would only add another nail in his coffin. Apprehending a nosey
reporter with a camera trained on a top secret aircraft was one thing. But
hijacking a reputable entomologist? Doing nothing more than conducting
important re­search on an endangered species of butterfly? Brad gripped the
controls, just thinking about the conse­quences.

Not
that being rudely, crudely and unfairly ab­ducted, as she put it, wasn't her
own doing. Tres­passing on restricted government property might have been
overlooked, but it had been that damn camera of hers that had sealed her fate.
Had she treated their accidental encounter like most people would have done and
run for cover like her sister, he would have had no reason to bother her in the
least.

In fact, the whole point of conducting testing at
the old air base in Roswell had been Roswell's tie to the UFO
phenomena. Around Roswell
people ex­pected to see strange objects flying through the air. And
it didn't matter if those sightings were real or if they were only imagined. Roswell depended on UFO
sightings as the main tourist attraction that sup­ported most of the city's
livelihood.

A
civilian actually having pictures of the current most top-secret aircraft in
the United States
military, however, couldn't be tolerated. Especially when those pictures had
the potential to fall into the wrong hands.

I made the right decision, Brad told himself with confidence, then skillfully
landed what had aptly been nicknamed the Black Ghost on the helipad that was
protected from view by the fifteen-foot concrete barrier walls that surrounded
them.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Brad pulled himself out
of the cockpit. He walked to the back of the chopper and stood with his hands
at his waist, looking down at his disgruntled prisoner. She was still sitting
where she'd landed on the floor, but she had man­aged to push some of her hair
out of those dark blue eyes that were now as big around as saucers. Un­fortunately
those full, enticing lips he'd noticed ear­lier were now pressed together in a
line so thin they almost disappeared.

"Captain Brad Hawkins. United States Air
Force," Brad said with as much authority as he could muster, and then he
extended a willing hand to help his frowning passenger back to her feet.

 

Maddie hesitated for a moment, staring up at the imposing figure who was
now towering above her. Oh, he was cute, all right. She'd noticed he was cute
the second he turned around and looked at her. Yet looking at him now, Maddie
realized referring to this man as cute
was the equivalent of calling the brilliant
Monarch butterfly a rather colorful moth. No, it was more like referring to Mt. Everest
as a hill in the Himalayas. His dark hair was
cut in that crisp, military fashion that commanded respect. The hint of a
five-o'clock shadow crept up the full length of his jaw. A tight-fitting
T-shirt and his camouflage fatigues only emphasized a fine-honed body that was
lean, mean and nothing in between. And those armsGod, those arms. His biceps
were literally bulging. Exactly the type of arms that would have the power to
crush a woman to him and....

In a flash, Mary Beth's total brawn from head to toe comment came rushing back to haunt her.

Maddie
shuddered at the thought.

She
reluctantly accepted his offer and pulled her­self up to a height that barely reached
his shoulder, ignoring a jolt of a different nature that colored her cheeks
from the mere touch of his hand.

What's
wrong with me? Maddie worried. So,
maybe he did have a hunkability factor of about a zillion. So what? He was also
someone she should have been ready to throttle. She should have kicked both his
shins and sucker-punched him soundly in the stomach. Hadn't he literally
kidnapped her? Ter­rified her poor sister? Possibly destroyed her chances of
finding the Deva Skipper again? Maybe even ruined her chances for the biggest
opportunity of her career?

Yet,
here she was acting like a silly schoolgirl experiencing her first legitimate
crush!

Shame
on you! Maddie told herself, then
pur­posely squared her shoulders and found the courage to say, "I'm Dr.
Madeline Morgan, Captain Hawkins. And I'm certain the colonel or the general,
or whomever is in charge will be absolutely appalled when he learns how badly
you've treated a defense­less law-abiding citizen."

His
eyebrow raised slightly. "Law-abiding?" he repeated in a mocking
tone. "I doubt my wing
com­mander will call trespassing on
private government property something a law-abiding citizen would do."

He was toying with her and Maddie knew it, she
could see the hint of amusement in his dark brown eyes. Dreamy eyes, she might
add. Eyes that were currently staring at her so intensely Maddie felt her
cheeks flame a second time. He's
openly flirting with me, Maddie
suddenly realized. And though his flirt­ing flattered her in one respect, it
irritated Maddie in another.

"I
prefer that your wing commander, not you, Captain Hawkins, make that type of
decision for himself," Maddie was quick to tell him before she added with
another lift of her chin, "and if you'll kindly escort me to his office,
I'll be happy to take the matter up with him myself."

He
stalled for a moment, seemingly amused that she would question his authority.
"First, I'll need to verify that you are who you say you are. Can you
provide me with any type of identification?"

Maddie
let him know exactly what she thought of such a stupid question. "Well, of
course, I don't have any identification on me," she sputtered. "My purse was in the
Jeep with my sister. And I'm sure you scared her to death when you had G.I. Joe
reach out and grab me and then body-slam me to the floor of your stupid'' she
glanced around her surround­ings before she added ''your stupid whatever this
flying contraption is."

He
glanced at his copilot, who had suddenly found something rather interesting on
the toe of his boot.

"And
what is all this spy nonsense?" Maddie's hands were on her hips now.
"Take a good look at me, Captain Hawkins. Do I look like a spy to
you?"

When
he purposely looked her up and down, Maddie wished she could snatch back the
invitation to do so. She was sure he was thinking that she didn't look like a
professor, either. And she didn't. She looked like hell is what she looked
like, thanks to him and his partner.

Angry all over again, Maddie glanced briefly at the
metal door to her left and made her move. She wasn't quick enough. Captain
Hawkins had the door blocked before she could reach for the door handle. And
the scowl on his face told her trying to reach around him probably wouldn't be
a good idea.

Now
what? Maddie wondered, worried
for the first time that her impressive credentials might not be enough to get
her out of her current predicament.

 

Brad didn't bother admitting
he'd already made the spy assessment himself. He had no doubt she was who she
said she was. Even the way she carried herself let him know she was accustomed
to giving orders instead of taking them. But Dr. Morgan was on his turf
now. And the sooner she realized he was in charge, the better it would be for both of
them.

Still,
he couldn't help but notice that her beauty was genuine. No heavy makeup, no
frills, no polish or jewelry. None of the usual amenities most women felt were
necessary to make them attractive. And her confidence wasn't limited to her
appearance, either. She'd been confident enough to make a break for the door. Which
meant keeping her sequestered until he figured out what to do with her might
not be an easy task.

Time
to play hard ball, Brad
decided. "Right now all I know
is that you were trespassing on private
government property. And," he added as he reached out and grabbed the
camera strap from around her neck, "you were taking pictures on government
property without permission. Illegal
pictures," he said as he quickly flipped
the back of the camera open and jerked the film out to completely expose it.
"Pictures I'm personally authorized to destroy on behalf of the United
States Air Force."

The
color drained from her face so fast Brad was prepared to catch her if she
fainted. It was then Brad realized the Black Ghost wasn't the only thing his
pretty captive had been photographing on her ex­pedition in the desert.

"Do
you have any idea what you just did?" she gasped as her hand flew to her
mouth.

"Yeah,
I just did my job," Brad told her.

"No,
you just destroyed the only evidence I had to support the research I've been
working on for the last six months."

Destroying
her research hadn't been his intention, but there was nothing he could do about
it now. Stuffing the exposed roll of film into his pants pocket, he slipped the
camera strap carefully back over her head and said, "I'm going to have to
detain you until I can verify your identity. Sergeant Baker will escort you to
my living quarters. You can stay there until I notify you otherwise."

"Your
living quarters?" She jerked her arm away when the sergeant tried to take
it. "If I'm under arrest, Captain Hawkins, then I insist you take me to
the proper authorities!''

She
could insist all she wanted, but Brad had his own problems to worry about. Like
explaining to his wing commander how his test flight that afternoon had suddenly
turned into a quasi-espionage mission. A mission that had resulted in one
suspect being apprehended, while a search party was now racing across the
desert in hot pursuit of suspect number two.

Knowing
he could no more divulge those details than he could successfully restore her
ruined film, Brad folded his arms across his chest and said as calmly as
possible, "Look, Dr. Morgan. If that is who
you are. We can do this easy, or we can do it hard. It's your choice. But you are going
to go with Sergeant Baker one way or the other until I get this whole mess
straightened out. Understood?"

Another
lift of her chin told Brad she wasn't even going to acknowledge his question
with an answer.

Turning
to his copilot, Brad said, "Wait at least thirty minutes before you make
your move. Be dis­creet. Take her through the back way. And don't answer any
questions if anyone stops you. The fewer people who know she's here, the
better."

"You're
going to regret this, Captain. I'll see to it," she threatened with a
deadly look.

Brad
held her gaze a second longer than neces­sary, then turned away. "Don't
let her out of your sight," he called back over his shoulder before he
opened the side door of his multimillion-dollar Black Ghost and slammed it
soundly behind him.

 




 

2

 

"you did what?"

Brad squeezed his eyes shut when the powerful fist
of Brigadier General Joseph Gibbons made con­tact with his heavy wooden desk
and sent a loud crack echoing through the room. Still standing at attention,
Brad took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, sir. We were right on top of
her before I even saw her. If she hadn't picked that moment to play
photographer, I could have been out of there so fast her head would still be
spinning. But under the cir­cumstances, I didn't have any choice but to bring
her back to the base."

"And
you destroyed that film?"

"The
minute we landed," Brad said, then took the exposed roll from his pocket
and gave up his straight-back pose long enough to place it on the desk in front
of his commander.

Gibbons,
who had seen more combat action than Brad ever planned or hoped to see, pushed
back in his chair and stood up, then began pacing around his office. Standing
at attention again, Brad never moved a muscle.

"And
you say she's a professor?"

"A
professor of entomology," Brad affirmed, still rather impressed by the
fact. "I did a quick back­ground check. She teaches at a small private
college in Georgia.
She's out here doing research on an en­dangered species of butterfly."

Gibbons's
scowl made Brad take a deep breath before he added, "But there is another
slight prob­lem, sir. Someone else was with her. She says it was her sister.
The sister split so fast there wasn't any time to stop her. I radioed ahead and
have a patrol out now to bring her in. She was way off the main road. I'm sure
we'll stop her before she gets back to Roswell."

"You'd
damn well better stop her!" Gibbons bel­lowed. "Do you have any idea
what will happen if that woman hits Roswell
screaming a strange aircraft carried off her sister? Hell, every news team in
the country will be on top of us so fast we won't know what hit us!"

Brad
cringed. "That isn't going to happen, sir. They should bring her in any
minute now."

Gibbons
resumed his pacing, then stopped to glare at Brad again. "I want both of
those women in my office within the hour. Do you hear me? We have a top secret
operation to protect here, and I don't intend to let a couple of tourists
jeopardize our testing."

Brad
nodded. "I'm sure they can be convinced to keep silent, sir. It may take some
fast talking, but..."

"Fast
talking, hell!" Gibbons shouted. "I intend to scare the living crap
out of them."

"Well,
we do have the upper hand here." Brad threw that in for good measure,
hoping he might spare his pretty prisoner and her sister some of the old man's
wrath. "I mean, the professor knows
she was trespassing. I'm sure if you
explain..."

"You leave those details to me." Gibbons
made another lap around the room, then flopped back down at his desk. "Now
get the hell out of here and see if they've located that sister yet."

Brad
gave his commander a salute, turned on his heel and was one step from reaching
for the door­knob when a loud knock brought him to a stop. The commander's
anxious-looking aide stepped into the room the second Brad swung the door open.

"Sorry
to interrupt," said the young lad who barely had a trace of peach fuzz on
his face. "The patrol Captain Hawkins sent out just called in to say they
weren't successful in their search. They said you'd want to know."

Brad prepared himself for the rage that immedi­ately
followed.

"Get
your ass to Roswell,
Hawkins. And do it now," the voice of authority yelled from across the
room. "And don't step foot in my office again until you have this whole
mess straightened out!"

After
a quick salute Brad hurried from his com­mander's office, already suspecting,
however, that his new assignment would be his own personal version of Mission Impossible.

Maddie continued to pull away every time Ser­geant Baker tried to take her
arm. "I'm perfectly capable of walking unassisted," she told him in a
frosty tone that should have turned the big goon into an ice sculpture.

"Just
following orders," Baker mumbled.

"Well,
as far as I'm concerned your orders are every bit as ridiculous as you bailing
out of the air to capture me like some common criminal," Maddie huffed.

"You
were trespassing," Baker reminded her.

"And
exactly what penalty does trespassing carry in the Air Force, Sergeant Baker?
Does the rule book say jump out of the sky and pounce on your trespasser? Shove
them facedown with their arms held behind them? Bruise and batter them? Does it
say shoot those pesky trespassers if they dare try to run
away?"

Baker
didn't answer. Instead he continued to shepherd her along in a lumbering
fashion while looking straight ahead.

"And
why is your captain so concerned about someone else seeing me?" Maddie
grumbled when the man towering above her stopped only long enough to look up
and down a long hallway before forcibly taking her arm again and steering her
down the hall.

Again,
Maddie wrenched her arm free, then sent a wistful look back over her shoulder.
As luck would have it, they hadn't seen a single soul since they'd emerged from
the strange aircraft they'd been riding in. If they had, Maddie would have
screamed bloody murder and begged for someone to rescue her. She even thought
of screaming now, but the threat of being slammed to the floor again by a guy
with the build of a professional wrestler kept her silent.

The
big bully! Maddie thought with a
frown.

Both
of her knees were scraped, probably even bleeding, and it would be weeks before
the skin grew back on her right elbow. And though it briefly occurred to Maddie
that her injuries were mainly due to her own kicking and struggling, she much
preferred to blame those injuries on her overgrown chaperone.

"Could
it be possible Captain Hawkins told you to be so secretive about my existence
because he knows keeping me against my will is totally illegal?" Maddie
piped up again. "Tell me the truth, Sergeant Baker. Do the two of you
routinely swoop down and pluck innocent women out of the desert and spirit them
away to your private living quarters? Is Captain Hawkins the brains
behind some type of illegal love slave trade the two of you have going on out
here in the desert?"

Again,
Sergeant Baker didn't answer, but her whimsical assessment of the situation
quickly filled Maddie's mind with thoughts of what it might be like if Captain
Hawkins did hold her captive as his love slave.

Would
he be the type of man to aggressively force her into submission? Never, Maddie
told herself, though her heart betrayed her and skipped a beat at the
possibility of such unfamiliar excitement. Or would the hunky captain lure her
into his arms with gentle whispers of the tantalizing things he planned to do
to her while they made slow, unhurried love?

Oh,
yeah. That would undoubtedly be his style.

In
fact, her interaction with him so far left no doubt he was a man of few words,
but exceedingly quick in the action department. Like the way his eyes had
traveled daringly over her body when she'd made the mistake of asking him to
take a good look at her. His intense gaze had left her breathless.

You
idiot! Maddie scolded, when her
apparently sex-starved mind began wandering again. And then she asked herself, Why on earth am I having these bizarre thoughts
now?

She
was an educated woman. A woman with the ability to stay completely focused on
her careera career that, thanks to Captain Fantasy, had possibly been
sabotaged. Yet now, she was suddenly day­dreaming about being this man's love slave.

It
was completely unlike her.

Totally
preposterous!

Yet,
so was her current situation.

For
all practical purposes, she might as well have been spirited off to another
planet, Maddie reasoned. Educated and focused or not, she was totally out of
her element. Could she really expect herself to act normal? Expect to remain
calm and collected when she'd lost complete control of the situation?

And,
of course, there was also that stupid predic­tion Mary Beth had made earlier
about some guy knocking her feet out from under her. That had to be what was
jinxing her now and turning her into some wide-eyed silly twit because some
hunky sol­dier had paid a little attention to her.

Damn you, Mary Beth.

But
thinking about her sister also made Maddie wonder what her poor twin's fate had
been. She was certain Mary Beth had to have seen the soldier jump out of the
aircraft and seize her. Was it possible Mary Beth was already in the commander's
office now pleading for her release? Or had Mary Beth gone back to Roswell to enlist the
help of local au­thorities?

Which
might not be a good thing, Maddie
re­minded herself with a frown. The local sheriff prob­ably wouldn't be any
more lenient about her trespassing than the captain had been. A convicted felon
certainly wouldn't be a prime candidate for a fed­erally-funded research team.
Although making the research team was the least of her worries at the moment.
Thanks to her own stupidity, she could possibly end up with a new wardrobe of
striped prison clothes and staring out at the world from be­hind bars.

Maddie
was still mentally kicking herself for be­ing such an idiot when Sergeant Baker
stopped in front of a door, opened it and pushed her inside a darkened room.

She
blinked when he switched on the light.

The
captain's living quarters were certainly noth­ing like the barracks Maddie had
seen portrayed on TV and in the movies. "How does Captain Hawkins rate his
own suite at this inn?" Maddie wondered aloud.

As
usual, Baker refused to answer.

She
took another look around the room. The ac­commodations certainly weren't
elaborate. The walls were cement blocks and painted a puke-green, and to her
dismay there wasn't a window in sight. The main room was large enough for a
sitting area, but the love seat and matching recliner had seen better days. A
sagging bookshelf to her left held a TV, VCR and what looked like a CD player.
A metal table and two metal folding chairs sat on the opposite side of the room.
There was also a small apartment-size refrigerator. Instead of the standard
military-issue cot, Maddie could see a double bed in an adjoining room.

She
assumed the closed door off the bedroom led to the captain's private bath. And
a bathroom was certainly something she could use at the moment. Not only was
she covered in dust and grime from head to toe, but her scrapes and scratches
shouldn't go long without attention. The way her luck had been going, gangrene
could set in at any moment.

Maddie
glanced at her bodyguard. "Does Captain Hawkins have his own private
bath?"

"Off
the bedroom."

"And
may I use that facility?"

Baker nodded.

"Alone?"

Baker
blushed.

"Don't
you need to search the bathroom first?" Maddie jeered. "Make sure I
can't shimmy out a window or something?"

She'd
only been joking, but to her surprise Baker motioned her in the direction of
the bathroom. Only when they were standing side by side and peering into the
small bathroom did he nod his approval. "Help yourself," Baker said with
a goofy smile. "I didn't think there were any windows in this old block
building, but thanks for reminding me to check it out."

"You
aren't welcome!"
Maddie stomped inside the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She could
hear the sergeant chuckling to himself as the sound of his footsteps left the
bedroom. It irritated her that the big buffoon thought the situation was funny,
but at least he'd had the decency to allow her a little privacy. Reaching down,
Maddie locked the bathroom door just to be safe, then stood staring at herself
in the small mirror above the sink.

Completely
covered in dirt, Maddie decided she looked like one of those old Vaudeville
comedians in black face makeup.

"God,
I'm a mess." She bent forward and ran her fingers through her tangled
hair. The sand that peppered the basin made her yearn for a hot shower. The
thought of stripping naked in the captain's pri­vate bathroom, however, made
Maddie more than a little apprehensive. Especially with the off-the-wall
scenarios that seemed to spring to mind every time she thought about the
handsome devil.

Like
now.

Maddie
could picture herself waterlogged and withered after spending hours waiting
naked under a spray of water that had long since grown cold. Waiting. Hoping.
Praying her mysterious kidnapper would finally burst into the bathroom to see
if she had somehow managed to escape. He would throw back the curtain and grin
wickedly when she only halfheartedly tried to cover herself. And then he would
step into the shower with her and pull her naked, quivering body...

You, my dear, are a
certifiable nut case!

Hoping
to cool herself off from that
mental im­age, Maddie jerked a towel from the
towel bar, wet it thoroughly, then mopped it slowly over her dust-splattered
face. The amount of grime and dirt she was leaving behind on his own personal
towel made her smile.

After
cleansing her injuries as best she could with a basin-type bath, Maddie studied
the medicine cab­inet above the sink. She had never been one of those nosey
people who secretly went through other people's medicine cabinets.

But
under the circumstances?

Well,
it was the captain's own fault she needed medical supplies, she reasoned.

Boldly
reaching out, Maddie opened the door and peered inside. The usual male
toiletries stared back at her. His toothbrush and toothpaste told her even a
big, strong soldier like him was just as concerned about the threat of
gingivitis as everyone else, there was a can of shaving foam and a
fancy-looking razor for that heavy stubble she had noticed earlier. And he
evidently preferred aftershave to cologne, though his brand wasn't cheap; Ralph
Lauren would have been proud. Picking up the bottle, Maddie's inten­tion was to
take a quick sniff.

She
froze the second she saw the box of condoms.

Shoving
the bottle back in place, Maddie slammed the cabinet door and stood staring
into the mirror wondering how such a promising day had turned crazy on such
short notice.

Instead
of aliens, an overzealous Air Force Cap­tain had snatched her out of the
desert, destroyed her precious film and was holding her captive in his own
private living quarters. Yet, was she fearing for her own safety? Was she
worrying that her abductor might be summoning up just cause to put her behind
bars?

Nope.
She wasn't even thinking up ways she might strangle Captain
Hawkins for all the trouble he had caused her. Instead Maddie's newly liberated
mind kept flirting with the possibility of how much fun it might be to wrangle him
out of those cam­ouflage fatigues purely for her own pleasure and amusement.

"Who
are you?"
Maddie demanded of her re­flection.

She hurried from the bathroom when the woman Maddie
no longer recognized sent back an imagi­nary wink from the captain's bathroom
mirror.

 

Brad steeled himself against the long stream of curse words coming from
his commander's bared lips. With a grimace, Brad said, "With your
permission, sir, I'll beef up security. Now that the sister has involved the
local authorities, it's only a matter of time until the media starts
questioning whether we're really out here on routine maneuvers as we
claim."

"Well,
let them question all they want," Gibbons bellowed. "Just don't let
anyone step foot on this base."

Brad
nodded, feeling completely chastised.

The
old man, as he was respectfully called by the men who served under him, had
asked for Brad spe­cifically on this final assignment that would take Gibbons
into retirement at the end of the year. Brad knew the request had been made
mainly out of re­spect for his father who had saved Gibbons's life in Vietnam before
being killed himself in a surprise attack. Brad had only been six years old at
the time, but he'd been old enough to vow that, in memory of his father, he
would become one of the best heli­copter pilots the United States Air Force had
to of­fer.

At
thirty-four, Brad had achieved that goal by never allowing anyone or anything
stand in the way of his mission.

"How
soon do you think we can demobilize and move this operation?" Gibbons spoke
up, jarring Brad back from memories he usually kept at bay.

"Three
days. Tops," Brad told him, still sad­dened that thanks to him, Gibbons's
exit from the military wasn't going to be an easy one. "I'm just not sure
how we'll go about getting the Black Ghost out of here with a bunch of
reporters watching our every move."

Gibbons
dragged a hand over his weatherworn face before his black eyes flashed in
Brad's direc­tion. Though now in his sixties, he still resembled the young
officer in the old photograph sitting on his desk. It was a photo Gibbons took
with him everywhere he went. A group of young pilots, in­cluding Brad's father,
stood with arms slung around each other's shoulders, squinting into the sun.
Brad's eyes rested fondly on the picture of his dad for a moment, then back to
the photo of Gibbons. Same alert eyes, Brad noted. Same crew cut, though now
the old man's hair was completely gray. Same ability, Brad knew, to make
split-second decisions without so much as the blink of the eye.

"We
don't have much choice," Gibbons finally said, diverting Brad's attention
away from the photo and back to him. "We'll take the Black Ghost out of
here the same way we had to bring that spy plane back from China when we
got our ass in a crack. We'll dismantle and ship the sucker one piece at a
time."

"I'm
really sorry, sir. About everything," Brad said with a sigh of
resignation. "Unfortunately we're in an age of instant communication. Now
that the sister is in Roswell
yelling alien abduction, every news crew in the nation will pick up the
story."

"Bastards,"
Gibbons swore. "Always shoving a camera in somebody's face. Hell-bent on
sensation­alism."

"I
hate to say it, but the public is just as much at fault," Brad mused.
"Look at all those reality shows that have become so popular on television
today."

"Well,
your damn
reality is going to be keeping that professor quiet until we can get the hell
out of here," Gibbons said, suddenly angry all over again. "I'd
intended to threaten those women with serious charges and send them on their
way, but that isn't possible now."

Brad
tensed. "Exactly what are you saying, sir?"

Gibbons
pounded his desk in his usual pay
atten­tion style. "I'm saying
we'll have to keep the pro­fessor here until we can move our operation. After
that, she can talk to the media all she wants. Once the evidence is gone,
there'll be nothing left to con­firm her story."

Keep
her? Brad's mind yelled in
protest.

But
that was crazy. They were on a temporary assignment, camped out at an old base
that was vir­tually vacant most of the time. They didn't have any military
police here, much less any type of jail cell where they could house his
accidental prisoner.

"But,
sir, that's impossible. If we keep her, then all hell will surely break loose.
The local sheriff is bound to call in the FBI."

"I'll
make a few calls to Washington,"
Gibbons said, obviously unconcerned about the FBI. "It's the damn media
and the local-yokels who'll give us a problem."

"But,
sir..."

Gibbons
pointed a stern finger in Brad's direction, and Brad didn't miss the menacing
twinkle in the old man's eye when he said, "The way I see it, you grabbed
her. Now, you baby-sit her."

Under
different circumstances, Brad would have shouted hallelujah at such an
appealing opportunity. Baby-sit her? Hell, yes, he'd like to baby-sit her if
the timing was right. He'd give those pouting South­ern Belle lips of hers
something to pout about. Like tempting her and teasing her until she realized
there were much more exciting things in life than chasing butterflies across
the desert.

But
now?

When their entire top secret mission was in jeop­ardy?
How could he possibly baby-sit the professor and make sure the Black Ghost was
safely out of harm's way?

"But
keep her where, sir?" Brad finally sum­moned the courage to ask. "We
can't take the chance of letting anyone else even know she's here."

"Didn't
you say you had Baker take her to your living quarters?"

"Well,
yeah, but what do you expect me to do with her?"

"You're
asking me that question?" the old man said with a laugh.
"You? Mr. Love 'em and Leave 'em is actually telling me he doesn't know
how to keep a lady occupied for three short days? Cut the crap, boy. I know
better."

Brad
flinched. Maybe he did have a reputation with the ladies. If a lady wanted a
friend, he could be a loyal one. If she wanted a fun date, he was her man. A
little sex? Sure, he could be persuaded to rise to the occasion.

However,
it wasn't likely Dr. Morgan would be interested in him, period. She was already
fit to be tied over him destroying her film. But if Brad had to inform her that
the two of them were going to be confined
to his living quarters for the next three
days? Hell, he'd come closer getting to first base with an angry barracuda than
he would with the comely professor.

"We're
not talking about some lady I'm taking on a date here, sir. We're talking about
me keeping a highly educated woman in my own bedroom against her will. Aren't
you concerned about the lawsuit she's bound to bring against us when we do let
her go?"

Gibbons
grinned. "What's the matter? Afraid the professor is too smart for your
usual lady-killer charm?"

Brad
frowned. "I'm saying this isn't your typical situation."

"Damn
right this isn't your typical situation!" Gibbons boomed. "So the
typical rules don't apply. Got it?"

"But,
sir..."

"Handle
it, Hawkins."

"How?
Keep the professor handcuffed to me for the next three days?"

His
outburst sparked another threatening gleam in the old man's eye. "Hand me
my briefcase."

Brad
obeyed his order. Gibbons searched through his briefcase for several seconds,
then eventually produced a set of steel-gray handcuffs. Brad caught them easily
when Gibbons threw the cuffs in his direction. A second later, Gibbons tossed
Brad a key.

"I
knew those would come in handy one day," Gibbons said with a lopsided
grin. "I took them from a snotty M.P. in Saigon
one night when he tried to arrest me and your father for disturbing the peace.
We'd just flown fourteen helicopter missions straight through the bowels of
hell. We both decided no M.P. with a cushy security job was going to do
anything but give us the respect we deserved. I took his cuffs away from him,
and your father stuffed him in a trash can outside the bar. It still makes me
laugh when I think about it."

Brad wasn't laughing. "And you really expect
me to use these?"

"What
part do you not understand, Hawkins? Handle it."

"Sir..."

"That's
an order, Captain Hawkins. I don't care how you do it. Just do it.
Dismissed."

Defeated,
Brad saluted the man he had always called Uncle Joe in
private. The man who had be­come a surrogate father to him after his father was
killed. The man who had been his mentor, his con­fidant, his pal.

The
same man who was grinning back at Brad now with an openly sadistic smile.

"Isn't it standard procedure that all prisoners get at least one phone
call?" Maddie asked Sergeant Baker who was now standing in front of the
only door in the room with his legs wide apart and his hands clasped behind his
back in a typical guard-type pose.

Still
guarding her, of course, the accused spy whose
only mistake had been to climb a fence in pursuit of an elusive butterfly that
could have pos­sibly furthered her career.

"You'll
have to take that up with Hawk when he returns," Mr. G.I. Joe-cool finally
answered.

"Hawk?"

"Captain
Hawkins. It's his nickname. But not just because of his last name,"
Sergeant Baker added with a sly grin. "We call him Hawk because there
isn't a chick in anybody's coop safe when Hawk's around. The hens simply can't
resist him, if you know what I mean."

Maddie
felt her own feathers ruffle at that com­ment. She even clucked her tongue a
few times be­fore the lie slipped out in protest, "Then I guess I'm not
your typical hen, Sergeant Baker. Because Cap­tain Hawkins doesn't
appeal to me at all."

Baker's
smirk challenged her statement. "Then I'll be sure and pass it along that
Hawk has finally met his match."

Maddie
was ready to cackle out a plea that Ser­geant Baker do no such thing, but the
door suddenly opened and the handsome hen thief himself stepped inside the
room.

She
was on her feet in a flash.

And
how long had it been now? One hour? Two? Looking down at her watch, Maddie was
shocked to see it had now been four long hours since she had unwillingly lost
her freedom.

"I'm
worried about my sister," Maddie was quick to tell him before he had time
to say a word. "And I'm sure she's frantic wondering what hap­pened to me.
Now, please, Captain Hawkins. Take me to your commander so we can get this
whole mess straightened out."

His
answer was to stroll across the room and force what appeared to be a neatly
folded pair of cam­ouflage pants and a T-shirt with the same irregular markings
into her hands. On top of the T-shirt sat a new toothbrush, a tube of
toothpaste, a small bottle of shampoo and a brush and comb.

"Standard government issue," he said
matter-of-factly. "These clothes were the smallest I could find. I'm sure
you'd like to clean up and get rid of some of that dust and sand."

Refusing to let an act of kindness deter her in the
least, Maddie looked down at the bundle, then back up at him. "You seem to
be under some misguided notion I'm going to need these. But I assure you, as
soon as I get to see your commander that won't be the case."

He accepted the bundle when she pushed it back in
his direction, but they continued to face each other like two gunslingers
prepared for a shoot-out. Maddie stared at him. He stared back. She tried to
step around him and head for the door. He purposely blocked her path. With only
inches left between them, Maddie had nowhere to look but up. And the second she
did, she became lost in the dark brown depths of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Morgan, Commander Gibbons
isn't available at the moment."

"He
isn't?" Maddie managed to squeak.

She
didn't object when he took her gently by the elbow and began leading her away
from the door and in the direction of the love seat. Just the touch of his hand
was enough to make her knees weak. The faint smell of his aftershave didn't do
much for her addled thoughts, either. In fact, Maddie was mentally fabricating
a letter of complaint to Mr. Ralph Lauren in protest of the intoxicating
effects his products had on women, when she glanced back over her shoulder at
Sergeant Baker's grinning face.

In
an instant, the words hawk
and henhouse
so­bered her faster than a bucket of ice
water.

"Now
listen, Captain," she said, pulling away from him in the nick of time.
"Like you told me earlier, we can do this easy, or we can do it hard. It's
your choice. But I am going to see this Com­mander Gibbons one way or the
other. Is that un­derstood?' '

He
had the nerve to laugh.

"You
think that's funny?" Maddie demanded, shaking her finger in his direction.
"You think you can hold me against my will, and I won't march right out of
here the first chance I get?"

He
didn't bother answering her question. Instead he turned to his buddy and said,
"Why don't you head over to the mess hall, Baker. I'm sure Dr. Mor­gan is
hungry. Pick up a few sandwiches, some fruit and anything else you can find.
And give us at least an hour alone. We need to have a little talk."

Maddie
sent an anxious glance after her body­guard when he disappeared through the
door. "What now, Captain Hawkins?" she asked with false bravado.
"Is this where you send away any witnesses so you can rough me up? Are you
going to force me to admit I'm some international spy when I'm not? Use some
type of Chinese water torture, maybe? Try some shock therapy on me?"

Better yet, why don't
you just kiss me to death?

Maddie
panicked. She couldn't have these thoughts now. Not with him standing less than
ten feet away! Still, her mind kept yelling IÅ‚ll admit to anything, for just one kiss. IÅ‚ll
admit to being a spy. IÅ‚ll even admit to being a pistol-toting gun moll. You
name the role, IÅ‚ll play it!

He
kept looking at her so strangely Maddie feared she had actually spoken the
words aloud. She breathed a thankful sigh of relief when he slowly shook his
head and said, "You've seen too many old war movies if you really expect
me to use any type of torture on you, Dr. Morgan.''

You're torturing me now, just looking in my di­rection!

He walked calmly to the opposite side of the room
and placed the clothing on the table. Then he reached inside the small
refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda before turning back to face her.
''I think you'd better sit down for this conversation."

Maddie
accepted the soda, but not his suggestion. "I'll stand, thank you,"
she told him, deciding it might be safer if she stayed on her feet. Besides, she
wasn't taking any chances. Now that her usually suppressed libido had assumed a
life of its own, something as innocent as sitting on the love seat might
quickly turn into something else. Something like her stretching out seductively
in a come-on pose and beckoning him to follow.

When he seated himself in the recliner a safe dis­tance
away, Maddie felt like cheering.

"First,
I want to apologize," he said, never taking his eyes from her face.
"I'm sorry I had to destroy your film."

He caught Maddie off guard with that statement.
Especially since she could tell he was sincere. There was no trace of mockery
hiding in those dark brown eyes of his. No hidden agenda. No game playing. No
deceit.

"Apology
accepted," Maddie told him. She as­sumed his apology meant she was no
longer a spy suspect. "I owe you an apology, too. For climbing that fence
and for causing you all this trouble. And if there's a fine for trespassing,
Captain Hawkins, I'll gladly pay it. But I can't stress enough how im­portant
it is that I'm released as soon as possible. If I'm detained much longer I
could lose any chance of finding"

He
cut her off before she could finish. "I'm sorry, Dr. Morgan, but there are
a few complications you don't understand."

"What
kind of complications?" Maddie asked suspiciously.

By
the time he got to the top
secret part, Maddie deeply
regretted her question.

 




3

Brad had known he would be taking a big gam­ble if he told his prisoner the
truth. In fact, under different circumstances he could have even been facing a
court martial for divulging classified infor­mation. But like the old man had
said himself, this wasn't your typical situation. Typical rules, there­fore,
simply did not apply.

And that had been the deciding factor for Brad to
place all the cards right out on the table. They were caught up in a bizarre
situation. If he wanted her full cooperation, Brad knew he needed to tell the
pro­fessor the truth. Instinct told him her own integrity wouldn't let him
down.

By the time he finally finished his lengthy expla­nation,
Brad noticed she had wandered over to the love seat after all, and was now
sitting stiffly on the edge of her seat with a panicked expression on her face.
And then, from out of the blue, came the over­whelming urge to comfort her; to
take her gently into his arms and kiss away the lines of worry that were now
marring her beautiful face.

Whoa! Talk about a
red alert.

He wasn't the comforting type. Sure, she'd been
handed a raw deal, but she'd have to suck it up and deal with it. Besides, only
seconds earlier comfort­ing her had been the last thing on his mind. He'd have
to be dead not to find her attractive. Earlier, as he'd watched her pace around
the room, all he could think about was wanting her naked. Plain and sim­ple.
Naked he could handle.

But
being tempted to comfort her?

That was scary.

Purging
any thoughts of comforting her from his mind, Brad said, "I hope you'll
agree protecting na­tional security takes precedence over the research you were
doing on your butterfly."

She
nodded, but continued sitting on the edge of the love seat with a vacant stare.

"And
not to make light of things, but this is one of those situations where you
happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She
glanced in his direction this time. "I don't agree with that statement,"
she said defiantly. "In fact, I think I was in the right place
at the right time, or I never would have found the butterfly I
was searching for."

"We
could argue the point for hours, but it wouldn't change the situation,"
Brad tossed back. "The fact still remains protecting this mission has to
take top priority."

She
frowned. "Tell me, Captain. If this mission is so top secret, how did you
get permission to tell me all of the details?"

Brad
smiled, having anticipated she would ask that very question. ''What was the
point in insulting your intelligence? You've already seen the Black Ghost.
You've even ridden in it. You had to realize it wasn't your everyday
run-of-the-mill helicopter."

She
seemed pleased with his answer. "You're right. And then when you destroyed
my film..."

"You realized it was the helicopter I was
trying to protect?" Brad finished for her.

She nodded. "I suspected as much."

''I
was counting on the fact that if I explained the seriousness of the situation,
you'd be willing to give me your full cooperation," he added for good mea­sure.

"Well, of course, I'll give you my full
coopera­tion now that I know the circumstances," she said, sounding
insulted that he might think otherwise. "I am a
responsible citizen, Captain Hawkins, despite my one bad decision to climb that
fence."

"Good. Because I'm going to need your full co­operation.
And that's an understatement."

She
sent him a blank stare. "Do I dare ask why?"

Brad
tossed his empty soda can in a small waste-basket sitting by the recliner and
left his chair. Walking toward the bookcase, he hoped what little ground he'd
been gaining over the last few minutes wouldn't be lost when the full magnitude
of the sit­uation was finally revealed to the woman with whom he was destined
to be spending the next three days.

However, just to be on the safe side, Brad pur­posely
sent her an apologetic look when he picked up the television remote and
reluctantly punched the button.

 

Maddie gasped when a close-up of Mary Beth in­stantly filled the screen.

"Thank you for being so patient with me,"
Mary Beth told the handsome TV reporter in what Maddie immediately recognized
as her sister's theatrical voice. "I'm still shaking so badly, I can
hardly sit in this chair." As proof, Mary Beth held out her trembling
hands for the reporter to see. Maddie frowned.

"Well,
of course, you've been shaken up," the reporter sympathized as he reached
out to pat those poor shaking fingers. "Who wouldn't be after what you've
been through?"

Mary
Beth dabbed daintily at her eyes with a tis­sue one of the adoring police
officers standing be­side her suddenly produced, then sent another pitiful look
directly at the camera.

"For
those of you just tuning in, we're here at the police station in downtown Roswell this evening with
actress and model, Mary Beth Morgan, who most of you will recognize as the Evershine Girl," the reporter said.

"The
Evershine Girl?" Hawkins repeated, look­ing back in Maddie's direction.
"Hey, I remember that commercial."

Maddie
rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you and every other man in the country who
happened to be tuned in to the Super Bowl last year."

Though
his eyes turned back to the screen, Mad­die knew that damn commercial was
already running like a film strip through the captain's head. Mary Beth riding out
of the fog on a coal-black stallion. Steam pluming from the horse's nostrils
with every breath it took. Mary Beth holding on to its long black mane like
Lady Godiva, with nothing to cover her nakedness but long blond ringlets of her
damn Evershine hair.

In
fact, it wouldn't have surprised Maddie if the company had gone bankrupt from a
legion of law­suits filed by all those guys who probably choked on their
tortilla chips when Mary Beth rode nude across their television screen.

"Was your sister really nude in that commer­cial?"
he had the nerve to ask.

Maddie
held her hand up to silence him when the reporter patted Mary Beth supportively
on the shoul­der and said, ''I know this is very difficult for you, Miss
Morgan." His sympathy prompted another sniffle from Mary Beth. "But
could you please tell our viewers exactly what happened a few hours ago on the
outskirts of Roswell?"

When
the reporter pushed the microphone in her direction, Mary Beth took a deep
breath and squeezed her eyes shut, trying, Maddie suspected, to produce a
genuine tear. It worked. The camera zoomed in to watch the droplet roll down
her sister's flawless cheek.

"I was with my sister, Dr. Madeline Morgan,
whom I might add is one of the most respected en­tomologists in her
field," Mary Beth told her view­ers, making no effort to wipe the fake
tear away.

''And..."
the reporter urged.

"We were out in the desert searching
for..." A few false sobs erupted before she added, "An en­dangered
species of butterfly. A species my sister is absolutely passionate about. One
she even hoped to save by proving that they did exist right here in
southeastern New Mexico."

There were more pats on the hand, more eye dab­bing
before she added, "And Maddie thought she saw one. The butterfly, I mean.
That's when she left the Jeep."

Hawkins glanced back in her direction again.

"Maddie, huh?
Yeah, Maddie suits you much better than Madeline."

Maddie
left the love seat long enough to drop her own empty soda can into the trash,
then came to a stop beside him. "I'm sure Hawk suits
you better, too."

He
laughed. "Sergeant Baker has a big mouth."

"Well,
I'm one chick Sergeant Baker won't have to worry about,"
Maddie said right back. "My
hen­house is hawk proof."

He
sent her a we'll-just-see-about-that grin, but the reporter spoke up again and
turned their attention back to the television screen.

"Please
go on," the reporter encouraged.

Mary
Beth's lip did a little quiver before she looked straight into the camera
again. "And that's when I saw it."

"The
spacecraft, you mean?" the reporter clari­fied.

Mary
Beth nodded, her eyes growing wide in an expressive fear mode. "It was
huge," she whis­pered. "Silent. Deadly. It swooped down so fast
Maddie never knew what hit her. I couldn't do a thing to help my poor sister.
All I could do was scream."

When
Mary Beth dramatically covered her face with her hands and burst into tears,
Maddie said, "I'm going to kill her."

He
sent her a puzzled look. "Kill her? But you said your sister would be
hysterical about this."

"Yes,
but I know my twin sister. And what you see now is nothing
more than a fine piece of Mary Beth Morgan acting. Probably her finest piece of
work to date, if you really want to know the truth."

"Twin?" he echoed in disbelief.

"Identical
twin," Maddie clarified with a frown
that only got deeper when Brad looked directly at her chest then back at the
screen as if he certainly didn't believe her story.

Of
course, she didn't know why she would expect him to
be any different. Like all of the other men hovering around Mary Beth on the
screen, the dear captain had obviously been dumbstruck by the am­ple cleavage
Mary Beth didn't mind flaunting. And why did she care
if the man standing beside her was ogling her sister's partially exposed size
36D bosom? He was no one she'd
ever be interested in, at least not
seriously. A man nicknamed Hawk
be­cause of the way he swooped down on
innocent women? Forget about it!

His
look was questioning. "So? You don't think your sister really believes you
were carried off by aliens?"

"Of
course, she doesn't!" Maddie said a little too sharply. "Mary Beth's
an actress. She's not an imbecile."

"Then
why is she making all the fuss?"

Maddie
threw her hands up in the air. "Who knows? Maybe she was afraid to admit I
was tres­passing on government property. Maybe she thought if she told the
police I'd been carried off by aliens they'd be more willing to take up the
search. Maybe..."

"Maybe
she couldn't resist getting her own fif­teen minutes of fame?" he threw
in.

Maddie
looked back at the screen. The thought had crossed her mind. "Well, she's certainly
getting that, isn't she?"

"She
certainly is," Captain Hawk agreed. "And that's why you can't be
released."

Maddie
paled. "What do you mean I can't be released?"

He
jerked his thumb toward the screen again. "That sister of yours has the
entire country con­vinced you were carried off by aliens. We have no choice but
to keep you here until we can demobilize our entire operation."

"But
how can keeping me here possibly solve anything?" Maddie cried out.
"The only way to clear this up is to let me go back to Roswell and prove I'm safe."

"I'm
sorry, but we just can't risk it."

"Risk
what?" Maddie demanded.

He
took a deep breath. "To put it bluntly, we can't risk you cracking under
the pressure of the media." His eyes softened a bit when he added,
"But you have my word. As soon as we get the helicopter out of here, I'll
personally see you're re­turned safely back to Roswell."

"But
how long will that take?"

"At least three days."

"Three
days?" Maddie repeated.

That
would give Mary Beth three full days in front of the cameras. Three days to
play her grief-stricken sister act to the hilt. Three days with the entire
world convinced that Dr. Madeline Morgan, respected entomologist, had fallen
prey to renegade aliens....

And
only when her entire life started crumbling right before her eyes, did Maddie
quickly turn to face him. Grabbing the front of his T-shirt, Maddie literally
dragged him two steps in her direction.

"Are
you nuts? You have to let me out of here! This is my life we're
talking about."

 

Brad turned off the TV and pried her fingers from his shirt, then led
his shaken prisoner back in the direction of the love seat. In spite of the lecture
he had given himself earlier, he couldn't resist plac­ing a comforting arm
around her shoulder. He winced inwardly, however, when she leaned against him
for support, pressing her warm, curvaceous body against him.

You can't get personally involved with this woman, Brad kept telling himself as he guided her back to
the love seat and took a seat beside her. He managed to ease his arm from
around her shoulder, but she only grabbed it again and sent him a plead­ing
look.

"Don't you realize my career could be ruined
if you don't let me out of here?"

Brad almost missed the question. She kept squeezing
his arm, making him imagine for a mo­ment those same slender fingers caressing
his back. Then clutching his shoulders. Her nails finally dig­ging in, signaling
he was close to pushing her up and over the next wave of passion.

"And what about my poor parents?" she
worried, sending another anguished look in his direction. "While one
daughter is trying for an obvious Emmy nomination, my poor parents will be
worrying that daughter number two is being dissected by little green men from
outer space!"

When she finally let go of his arm, some of the
blood that had been directed elsewhere slowly re­turned to his brain, allowing
him to respond.

"You're
right," Brad agreed. "This is a very un­fortunate situation to be in,
but..."

"Unfortunate?"
she wailed, jumping up from the loveseat again. "It's much worse than unfortunate! If
you don't let me out of here, I'm going to be a worldwide laughing stock!
Everything I've worked for my entire life could go right down the drain."

"I
know, and I'm sorry, but..."

"Then
if you won't let me leave, at least let me call Mary Beth at the hotel and get
this whole thing straightened out!"

Again,
Brad shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really am. But it's totally out of my
hands now."

Her
voice grew even more pleading. "Then let me see Commander Gibbons. Please.
Give me the chance to tell him my side of the story."

Brad
squirmed at that particular request. He could tell she was finally beginning to
see the big picture for what it actually was.

"Wait
a minute," she said slowly, her eyes nar­rowing. "I'm never going to see Commander
Gib­bons, am I?"

Brad
didn't answer.

"No.
Of course, I'm not going to see him," she said, slapping her forehead with
the heel of her hand. "This is going to be 'I never had sex with that
woman' all over again, isn't it? If your com­mander never sees me,
then he can technically deny knowing I was ever brought to this base."

Brad
knew his guilty look said it all.

"But
what if I don't cooperate?" she threatened. "What if I don't keep
this helicopter of yours a secret when you do let me go?"

"It
won't matter then," Brad said simply. "It will be your word against
the United States Air Force. And the more you force the issue, the less
credible you'll become. Especially since your sister has al­ready gone
overboard with her alien abduction story."

If looks could kill, Brad knew the Air Force would
have been making arrangements for his full military funeral.

"So, you've got it all figured out, haven't
you?" she huffed. "You'll discredit me and ruin my rep­utation even
further if I expose your top secret helicopter. And you'll claim my sister is
just some weirdo with a screw loose."

"I
wouldn't exactly put it like that."

Brad was on his feet now. She was getting all riled
up again and he needed to keep her as calm as possible. He tried to take her
hand so he could coax her back to the love seat, but she quickly smacked his
hand away.

"And stop trying to pull your ridiculous
henhouse magic on me. It won't work."

Wanna
bet? Brad thought, and to test
her, he took another step in her direction. He smiled inwardly when her eyes
suddenly grew wide with concern.

Yes,
his military training had taught him well. He had always been good at finding
his adversary's weak point, though he found it rather funny that a woman with a
degree in entomology turned into Lit­tle Miss Muffet when he got too close,
acting as if he were some spider trying to frighten her away. Her obvious concern
about his intentions, however, would be his trump card in keeping her under con­trol.
He would keep her flustered. Off balance. Keep her mind off everything else by
making her deal with him one-on-one. Making her do the one thing Dr. Madeline
Morgan obviously didn't have an im­pressive degree in: interacting with the
opposite sex.

"I'm
always open to suggestions," Brad teased, reaching out to run his finger
along the curve of her chin. "Why don't you tell me what will work
to put you in a friendlier mood?"

"Your
head on a silver platter, maybe?" she said and slapped his hand away
again.

Brad
only grinned. "Sorry, but you're stuck with me. And if you'd lighten up a
little, you'd realize we could have a pretty amazing time playing house
together over the next three days."

Playing house together? While my entire life is go­ing down the toilet? Maddie was so shocked by such an absurd suggestion
words completely failed her. Unfortunately her wanna-be playmate took her si­lence
as an invitation to step forward again.

And
that's when Maddie knew she really was in trouble.

He
was standing so close she was sure he could hear her heart thumping wildly in
her chest. She tried to move away, and she would have, had he not surprised her
by reaching out to gently push a way­ward strand of hair away from her face.

"So?
How about it?" he asked, his voice husky and dangerous. "Wanna call a
truce and play house?"

Maddie
stiffened when one of his powerful arms slipped around her waist. He pulled her
to him, forc­ing her to acknowledge every inch of his rock-hard body that was
pressed against her own. A little afraid, but deliciously excited, for some
reason pushing him away never entered Maddie's mind.

And
from that moment on, she was helpless.

She
was powerless.

She was nothing but another willing chicken, after
all, surrendering shamelessly to the ruthless hawk who now had her in his more
than capable clutches.

Closing
her eyes in breathless anticipation, Mad­die waited for the kiss of a lifetime.
His warm breath inched closer, teasing her, tempting her, and then finally
cheating her when a loud knock on the door produced not a kiss, but a curse
from his lips.

"Let
go of me," Maddie demanded when her eyes snapped back open. She did try to
push him away this time, but Hawk held her against him long enough to whisper,

''Make
yourself at home, Sweet Maddie. This is just a sample of the fun we can have
together over the next three days."

 

Brad walked out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He turned to
face his copilot and found Baker holding a tray loaded down with enough food to
feed half the men who were staying on the base.

"Anyone question you about the food?"

Baker,
who was six-four and tipped the scales somewhere around two-fifty, looked down
at the tray and laughed. "Are you kidding? Everybody knows I can eat this
much food for a snack."

"Good."
Brad ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. "Because we're going to have
an extra mouth to feed until we can demob and get the Black Ghost out of here."

Baker sent a worried look at the closed door.

"You mean the
old man plans to keep her here on base?"

Brad
nodded.

"Where?"

"Right
where she is."

"She's
going to bunk with you?" Baker barked in disbelief.

Brad
frowned. "Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

"You're
the one who's going to have a problem with it, Hawk," Baker said, frowning
back. "Hell, man, you might as well be sleeping with the enemy."

Brad
stared at the man who had been his closest friend since they were in boot camp
together. They'd seen their share of good times over the years. Chased the
ladies together. Held fast in their belief that the Air Force did and always
would come first in their lives. But this was the first time Baker had ever
voiced a concern that Brad couldn't hold his own where a woman was concerned.

"What
are you saying? That you don't think I can be confined with a woman and keep my
pants zipped?"

"It's
not your zipper I'm worried about, Hawk. There are ladies you play around with
and ladies you don't. This lady is your worst nightmare. If you're not careful,
you'll end up chasing her right up until the time she catches
you.''

Brad
laughed. "That isn't going to happen and you know it."

Baker
didn't seem convinced. "Trust me about this, Hawk. Get this woman under
your skin and the next thing you know, you'll be back in civilian clothes and
hurrying home every night so you can help out with the kids."

Brad
really had a good laugh that time. Him? Running home to a wife and kids? Not a
chance. He'd made himself a promise when he joined the Air Force that he'd
never make the same mistake his father did. Brad knew first hand how devastated
he and his mother had been when his father was killed. His mother never really
recovered. The doc­tors claimed her heart was weak, but Brad knew better. Her
heart had been broken. And rather than hand down that same legacy himself, a
wife and a family would never have any place in his future.

Jabbing
a finger in the big man's chest, Brad said, "Stop worrying about me and
keep our prisoner confined while I go check on the Black Ghost. No one knows
she's here but you, me and Gibbons, and we need to keep it that way. But she's
determined to get out of here, Baker. Don't let that happen. Got it?"

Baker
sent another worried look toward the door. "Why don't I go check on the Black Ghost, and you stay
here?"

Brad
laughed. "What's the matter? Afraid you'll
fall under the professor's spell?"

"Hell,
no," Baker grumbled. "But you weren't the one trying to hold her down
earlier. She's stronger than she looks."

"You
have at least one hundred and thirty pounds on her," Brad scoffed. "I
think you can handle it."

"That's
easy for you to say," Baker argued. "I'm telling you, Hawk, she's a
real handful."

Believe
me, she's more than a handful, Brad
thought with a frown, remembering the feel of her ample bosom pressed against
his chest. He hated to admit it, but Baker was right about the danger he'd be
facing over the next few days. Especially if he stuck to his plan to keep her
off balance by coming on to her. There was always the possibility a plan like
that one could backfire. But he assured himself he could handle the situation.
"Stop stalling and get back inside. Someone might get suspicious if you're
guarding my door."

Baker
groaned, but finally nodded in agreement.

Brad
gave him a playful salute and headed down the hallway. "Have fun," he
tossed back over his shoulder with a wink.

 

 




4

 

 

 

 

Slumped on the love seat, munching from a bag of popcorn Baker had brought
back from the mess hall, Maddie ignored the big gorilla who was again standing
guard in front of the door. She was still stewing over the disastrous little
tęte-a-tęte that had occurred earlier with the Hawk, though Maddie mainly
blamed herself for letting her guard down. Which she positively wouldn't do
again, thank you very much!

Liar! the
little voice inside her head yelled out with a snicker.

Okay.
So maybe she wasn't as strong as she thought she was. Maybe it would take
everything she had to keep from clucking
her silly head off when Mr. Let's-Play-House
walked back into the room. She was, after all, just a normal, healthy, still on
the back side of thirty female.

Normal?

Okay. So maybe she wasn't exactly your typical twenty-something
female. She could admit that. She was dedicated to a fault. Focused more on her
career than she was on life in general. But she still dated occasionally. She
had to earn some points for dating.

Occasionally?

Okay.
So maybe rarely was a better word. But she did date. And she did
like men. She did! She just never had any time to fit them into her life.

What about the next
three days?

Maddie
pushed that question to the back of her mind, and continued to
channel surf through a mul­titude of cable stations. She jumped to her feet
when Headline News flashed her faculty picture, taken straight from the
McCray-Hadley annual on the screen.

All
Maddie could do was stare in horror.

She
wasn't sure if her terror was because they had chosen to display her absolutely
most dreadful and unflattering picture of all time, or because Mary Beth's
idiocy had now been picked up by national
television news.

"An
all-points bulletin has now been issued for Dr. Madeline Morgan, a professor of
entomology at McCray-Hadley
College, one of the most
acclaimed private colleges in the South," the pretty news-woman said with
a serious look when the camera switched from Maddie's horrid picture back to
her. "As reported earlier, Dr. Morgan was allegedly ab­ducted earlier
today by an unidentified aircraft near Roswell,
New Mexico. Anyone with any valid
in­formation on the whereabouts of Dr. Morgan is urged to contact their local
police authorities...."

"Can
you believe this insanity?" Maddie cried out, prompting only a sheepish
look from her body­guard.

"And
joining us now direct from a fraternity house near the McCray-Hadley campus is
our own reporter...."

"Dear
God," Maddie moaned as a live shot of the Alpha Beta Pi fraternity house
came into view.

"We're
here in Morgan City, Georgia, tonight," the handsome reporter told the
world, "but so far we've been unsuccessful in getting any statement from
the dean of McCray-Hadley, or from Dr. Melvin Fielding, noted entomologist and
current De­partment Chair, who is also Dr. Morgan's immediate supervisor.''

"Of course, they don't have time to make a
state­ment, you idiot!" Maddie yelled at the screen. "They're too
busy trying to figure out how they're gracefully going to fire me."

"But we have been fortunate to locate several
of Dr. Morgan's students," he added and the camera panned to a group of
grinning students waving madly at the camera. One boy mouthed "Hi
Mom" before the reporter extended the microphone in his direction.

"Are you a student of Dr. Morgan's?"

"Yeah, man. She's a really happening teacher."

"Too
bad your grades aren't just as happening," Maddie grumbled,
digging into her popcorn bag again.

"Do any of you think it's really possible Dr.
Mor­gan has been kidnapped by aliens?" the pushy re­porter
inquired.

As luck would have it, a student known as
"Reefer" for a very good reason jumped forward to answer that
question. "Wow, man. I'm totally psyched over the possibility Dr. Morgan
really has been abducted by aliens," Reefer said in his usual far-out way
of speaking. "Of all the people in the world, the aliens chose one of our
very own faculty members right here at McCray-Hadley to represent our entire
planet. It's totally awesome, man. Totally awesome."

"And
do you have any speculation about why Dr. Morgan would have been chosen, if, in
fact, she has been abducted by aliens?" the reporter said
with a sinister smile that could have easily been caused by the overwhelming
aroma that was usually reeking from Reefer's wrinkled clothing.

"You
bet I do," Reefer said with a completely serious expression.
"Butterflies, man. Dr. Morgan knows all there is to know about
butterflies. Ask anyone on campus. That's how she earned her nick­name. Madam
Butterfly."

Maddie
felt like she'd been slapped. Nickname? Reefer was the one with the nickname!
Not her. Surely not her!

"Well,
you've heard it here folks," the reporter said with a lopsided grin as he
practically shoved Reefer back into the crowd. "Students at McCray-Hadley
are certainly wishing the best for Dr. Ma­deline Morgan, who is known around
campus as Madam Butterfly."

Maddie
switched off the TV, smashed the pop­corn bag with her fist and threw the
remote control across the room. It landed on the love seat with such force it
bounced several times, then toppled to the floor.

"I
can't believe this is happening," Maddie kept saying as she paced around
the room. "This morn­ing I was a respected entomologist, on the verge of
the biggest discovery of my career, and in the blink of an eye a snide reporter
on national news has the audacity to refer to me as Madam Butterfly!"

Maddie
did a little more pacing, tossed the bag into the trash, then tentatively
looked around the room for something to destroy. Her intentions must have been
reflected in her frown, because her body­guard suddenly cleared his throat to
get her atten­tion.

"I wouldn't let that reporter bother me if I
were you, Dr. Morgan. This will all blow over soon enough," Baker said
calmly from his post at the door.

Maddie whirled around to face him, hoping he
couldn't detect the wheels that had also started whirling around inside her
head. She hesitated for a second, and then she said, "You know, Sergeant
Baker, you're absolutely right. Thanks for helping me put things into
perspective." Maddie sent him her most brilliant smile.

He seemed
surprised, but he smiled back. Then he shrugged. Then he did a little shuffle
from one foot to the other, more than a little embarrassed un­der her praise.
"Hey, don't mention it."

Gotcha!
Maddie thought. And though she certainly
wasn't proud of herself for turning on a big dose of feminine charm, Maddie
knew she had to
get back to Roswell
before her career was so badly ruined she'd never recover.

"You poor, poor, man," Maddie said,
forcing herself to even bat her eyelashes a few times. "I've been so
focused on my own problems, I never stopped to think how tired you must be
standing at the door hour after hour."

Baker stood up a little straighter and puffed his
massive chest out a bit further, if that were possible. "Don't worry about
me. I'm fine."

"Don't
be so modest." Maddie walked across the room toward the table. "The
least I can do is bring you a sandwich. I'm sure Captain Hawkins doesn't care
if you eat something, as long as you guard the door."

Baker
licked his lips, watching as Maddie rifled through the contents on the tray.
"That's okay." But there was a lot of uncertainty in his voice when
he added, "I'll get something later."

Maddie
waved a tasty-looking ham and cheese sub in his direction. ''This is what I had
earlier. And believe me, it was scrumptious."

"Well,
I am kinda hungry," Baker admitted, just as Maddie hoped he would.

"And
what about a soda to go with your sand­wich?" Maddie asked in the sweetest
voice she could muster.

"Yeah,
that would be great," Baker said, grin­ning back in appreciation.

Maddie
withdrew a can of soda from the small fridge, popped open the top, then walked
toward Baker with what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face. "Here
you go," she said when she handed over the sandwich, but she purposely let
go of the can before he could take it.

The
contents splashed all over him.

Baker
automatically bent down, grabbing for the can, and when he did, Maddie gave him
a push with everything she had. Caught completely off guard, Goliath hit the
floor with a thud.

Maddie
never looked back.

She
yanked the door open and headed down the hallway at a breakneck speed that
would have put any Olympic sprinter to shame. Which way? Maddie
kept asking herself frantically. The long hallway stopped at an intersection up
ahead. Baker had brought her in from the left, through an exit door that would
only lead her back outside to the heli­copter pad. But if she went right, where
would she be? Deciding her only choice was to take that chance, she turned
right at the last second.

Colliding
head-on with Hawk gave Maddie a glimpse of how her insect friends felt when
they didn't see the windshield until it was too late.

The
impact bounced her backward like a rubber ball and landed her flat on her back.
By the time she pushed herself up on her elbows and stole back her breath, both
Hawk and Baker were standing above her.

Neither seemed amused.

"Dammit, Hawk, she tricked me," Baker ex­plained.

Hawk didn't answer. Instead both men reached down
simultaneously, hooked Maddie under each arm, and literally carried her back
down the hallway. Once back inside her prison, Maddie was plopped down in the
recliner before Hawk uttered a word.

"Give me your shoes," Captain Hawk
ordered.

"I
most certainly will not!"

He bent down and had Maddie's hiking boots off faster
than if she'd been wearing a pair of slippers.

"Take
these with you. I'm in for the night," he told Baker who wasted no time
grabbing her boots and making a hasty exit out the door.

Bracing
herself for the lecture she knew was com­ing, Captain Hawkins didn't disappoint
her. Coming to a stop directly in front of her chair, he glared down at her
with his hands at his waist. ''You think this is some kind of a game, don't
you?"

"Game?" Maddie jumped up to face him in
her stocking feet. "My entire life is being ruined, you're holding me
against my will, and you have the nerve to ask me if I think this is a game?"

They
glared at each other for several seconds as if the brief intimacy they'd shared
earlier never hap­pened. Maddie was too worried about her career to even think
about the kiss that almost transpired be­tween them, and judging from his
serious expres­sion, Captain Hawk wasn't in a playful little mood, either.

He
surprised her when he said, "You're right. You are the
one who has the most to lose in this situation. That's why I decided a call to
your sister might not be such a bad idea."

Maddie
couldn't believe her eyes when he pulled a cell phone from the pocket of the
jacket he was now wearing.

"Get
your sister to call off the search," he in­structed. "Tell her you're
okay, but nothing else. Understood?"

When
Maddie nodded, he asked, "Where is she staying?"

"The
Hampton Inn. Room 402," Maddie told him, then held her breath when he
called informa­tion for the number.

He
checked his watch before he dialed the hotel. "It's almost midnight, so it
should be safe to make the call. Make sure she's alone. If she isn't, hang
up."

Maddie
nodded in agreement again.

"Room
402," he said when the hotel operator answered, and Maddie eagerly took
the phone when he handed it over. He was standing so close, Maddie decided
she'd be wise to follow his instructions to the letter. The second Mary Beth
answered, Maddie said, "Are you alone?"

"Maddie? Is that you?" came the startled
cry on the other end of the line.

"Answer me, Mary Beth. Are you alone?"

"Well,
of course, I'm alone. My God, Maddie, are you okay? How much trouble are you
in?"

"Not
nearly as much trouble as you're
going to be in when I get my hands on
you," Maddie seethed.

"Now wait just a minute," Mary Beth protested.
"I've been worried to death about you. Where are you, anyway? Tell me!
I'll come and get you this minute."

"Come and get me?" Maddie shouted.
"I've been carried off by aliens, remember?"

"Okay, okay. I admit things have gotten out of
hand. But you weren't the one being chased across the desert by jeep full of
soldiers with bazookas on their shoulders."

"God, Mary Beth, how could you do this to
me?" Maddie broke in, no more impressed than she usu­ally was with her
sister's outrageous dramatics.

"I
swear, it wasn't my fault, Maddie. I was pet­rified when I saw that soldier
grab you. And then when I realized I was being chased myself, I headed for Roswell so fast I had to
be doing a hundred miles an hour."

"And?"

"Well, that was the problem. After I hit the
main road, I was pulled over by the local police for speed­ing. The second the
officer walked up to the Jeep, I blurted out that my sister had been
abducted."

"Dear God," Maddie groaned.

"I
know. Saying the word abduction
in Roswell
is like saying you saw something strange swimming around in Loch Ness."

"But
why didn't you explain what you meant, Mary Beth?"

"I
tried to explain," Mary Beth insisted. "But think about the answers I
had to give them. A weird-looking aircraft? Out near the old Air Force base?
Everyone got so excited, I decided if I just went along with the hysteria,
those goons who grabbed you would forget all about your trespassing and send
you straight back to Roswell to clear things up."

Wishful
thinking, Maddie thought. "And
what about Mom and Pop, Mary Beth? Have you at least had the decency to call
and tell them the truth?"

"They're
up at the cabin for the next two weeks. Didn't they tell you? And you know
Pop's rules when they go up there. No radio. No TV. No phone. No outside
communication, period."

Maddie
breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, at least that's one thing in our favor.
Hopefully this will all be over once you make a statement to the press in the
morning."

"Statement?"

"Yes,
Mary Beth, you have to tell them you were mistaken," Maddie stuttered.
"Tell them you've heard from me and that I'm okay."

"And
are you
okay? You still haven't told me exactly where you are. Why haven't they let you
go, Maddie? Tell me what's really going on."

Maddie
hesitated. "It doesn't matter, Mary Beth. Just call off the media."

"What
do you mean, it doesn't matter?" Mary Beth yelled so loudly Maddie held
the phone out from her ear. "Of course, it matters. Tell me where you are
and I'll come and get you. Then we can both
talk to the press. Don't you realize we're
celebrities now, Mad­die? There's no telling where we could go with this. Think
about it. Identical twin sisters? The media will love us. You could get a book
deal. Maybe I could even get a picture out of this."

"Have you gone crazy?" Maddie said
through clenched teeth. "You have to call off the media, Mary Beth! Do it
first thing tomorrow."

"And
if I don't?"

"Just
do it, Mary Beth."

"Why? What's really going on, Maddie? Tell
me."

"I can't," Maddie admitted, sending an
anxious look in Hawk's direction.

"What do you mean, you can't tell
me? You mean you're being held against your will? By our own damn
government?"

Maddie took a deep breath. "Something like
that," she said, but a warning look from Hawk told her she was already
skating on thin ice.

"Then you can tell those camouflage-wearing
morons for me that I'll call off the media when I get my sister back!"

Maddie saw red. "Dammit, Mary Beth. My entire
career is on the line here!"

"It's always about your precious
career, isn't it?" Mary Beth accused.

"What's
that supposed to mean?"

"What about my career?
Have you stopped to consider the exposure I'm getting right now?"

''Exposure?''

"Yes,
exposure. This is finally the big time for me. I've had calls from Larry King.
From Letterman. Even Oprah's people have been ringing my agent's phone off the
hook."

Maddie
didn't answer.

"Don't
you see what this can mean to me? When all of this is over, you'll still be Dr.
Madeline Mor­gan and you'll still have that impressive Ph.D. flow­ing behind
your name. But what about me? If I don't make the most of this opportunity
right now, I'll slip back into obscurity and spend the rest of my life
scrambling around for occasional two-bit commer­cials."

When
Maddie still didn't answer, Mary Beth said softly, "Don't hate me for
putting my career first, just this once. I've never hated you
for always doing the same thing."

"You
know I could never hate you, Mary Beth." Maddie let out a long sigh.
"No matter what you did."

"Then
tell me the truth, Maddie. Are you really safe? Are you really going to be
okay?"

Maddie
took another look at the man who made her pulse race every time he looked in
her direction. "I'll be fine," she lied. "I should be back at
the hotel by the end of the week. Wait for me there. I'll explain everything
then."

"Don't
worry, I'll be here. My agent wants me here in Roswell where I'll draw the most attention.
He's even working out details for satellite interviews he plans to sell to the
highest bidder. Can you be­lieve this, Maddie? Me? Being interviewed
by..."

Mary
Beth was still rambling when Brad reached out and took the phone, then
disconnected the call. He then promptly removed the battery and slipped it into
his pants pocket before he placed the now useless cell phone on top of the
bookcase. Maddie watched every move he made, but she never said a word.

He leveled a look in her direction. "What
about your parents?"

Maddie
shrugged a shoulder. "They're up at our family cabin in the mountains. My
father insists on total solitude when they're up there. But since Mary Beth
won't call off the search, it's only a matter of time until someone from Morgan City heads up to
the cabin to find them."

"Any
connection between the name of your hometown and your family?"

"Afraid
so," Maddie said with a sigh. "My an­cestors founded Morgan City. My father's the mayor. Of
course, in a town the size of Morgan
City, being mayor is more of an honorary title than
any­thing else."

His look was sympathetic. "And this sister of
yours? She would really jeopardize your career and never give it a second
thought?"

Maddie walked back to the love seat and flopped
down with her head in her hands, the events of the day finally catching up with
her. "I'm too exhausted to even think about that right now," she told
him truthfully. "But thanks for letting me at least try to
talk some sense into her."

She could tell he had hoped she could convince Mary
Beth to call off the media. Without the media figuring into the situation, his
helicopter would have been safe and his commander would have had less reason to
keep her there. And he had to be just as eager to get rid of her as she was to
leave. They couldn't get along for more than five minutes at a time, mainly
Maddie suspected, because they both liked being in control.

Well,
IÅ‚m not giving in, Maddie
vowed as she massaged her throbbing temples. But now that she had attempted to
escape and he knew Mary Beth wasn't calling off the bogus
search, what would he do?

"How
do you usually sleep? On your back? Or on your side?"

Maddie's
head came up to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do
you sleep on your back? Or do you sleep on your side?" he repeated.

"Why
on earth would you want to know that?" Maddie's mouth dropped open when he
reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the handcuffs. "Don't even
think about it," she warned, but he quickly cut her off.

"I've
already thought about it," he said with a frown. "After that stunt
you pulled with Baker, I'm not taking any chances. And now that you know your
sister isn't going to cooperate, you have even a bigger reason to run. But I'm
worn-out, and so are you. We're both two mature adults, so let's simply walk
calmly into the bedroom and try to get a little sleep."

"You
can't be serious."

"I'm
dead serious." And the expression on his face confirmed it. "Now,
answer my question. Do you sleep on your back or do you sleep on your
side?"

"I sleep on my side," Maddie admitted,
sending him an icy look.

"Right
side or left?"

"Left,"
she finally answered after a second to ponder.

"Good.
I sleep on my left side, too," he said. "This should be easy."

He
took a step in her direction, but Maddie moved farther away. It was the wrong
thing to do. When she saw the muscles flex in his jaw, Maddie worried she may
have pushed him a little too far.

"Are
you purposely trying to be a pain in the ass? Or is this normal for you?"
he asked with a grim expression. "I've gone out of my way to make you as
comfortable as possible. I've seen that you have food. I've made sure you have
clean clothes. And, against my better judgment, I even let you call your crazy
sister. Now, I don't know about you, but I think it's your turn
to do a little compromising. After all, I'm not the one who climbed that fence
and set this whole fiasco in motion. You are."

The flush of shame crept up her neck. "I don't
suppose you would take my word if I said I wouldn't try to escape again?"

He
threw his head back to laugh.

"And I guess it doesn't matter that you've
already taken away my boots?"

"It
doesn't matter in the least."

"And
you wouldn't consider sleeping on the love seat, maybe? We could push it in
front of the door. You'd be sure to wake up if I tried to climb over you."

He
looked over at the love seat and back at her.

"I'm
six foot two. How much rest do you think I could get on a four-foot love seat?"

"Well,
you're crazy if you think I'm taking off my clothes," Maddie sputtered.

His
grin was as wicked as his laugh had been nasty. "Suit yourself, but I'm
taking off mine."

"Fine.
I'll sleep on top of the covers."

"It
gets chilly out here in the desert at night," he warned.

"Not
that chilly."

He
shrugged, then motioned toward the bedroom. Reluctantly Maddie marched ahead of
him like a prisoner on her way to the gallows. Dear God, what was she going to
do now? He had rendered her senseless with the mere possibility that might kiss
her. And now she was going to be handcuffed
to him. In bed. With him naked.

Good
Lord, Maddie thought, how am I ever going to survive the next three days?
Stopping when she reached the side of the
bed, Maddie turned around and faced him with both arms held out in front of
her.

"Just
the right arm, please," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Maddie
rolled her eyes, but did as he instructed. However, when the cold steel clamped
around her wrist, Maddie wondered if Hawk realized once he handcuffed them
together he couldn't escape, either. The thought of him being her prisoner
brought a faint smile to her lips.

"Now,
let's see." He rubbed a hand over the shadow on his chin that only
emphasized his maleness. "If we both sleep on our left sides, that means I
need to cuff our right hands together. Correct?"

"Don't
ask me, I'm just the prisoner," Maddie was quick to point out.
"You're the mastermind be­hind this catastrophe."

He ignored her comment, then bent down long enough
to take off his boots. Then he turned her around and stepped up behind her so
close, Maddie could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. A tingle
spread through her body so fast it almost made her swoon.

"Should it concern me that you just happen to
have a pair of handcuffs in your possession?" Mad­die quipped, trying to
disguise her rapid breathing.

The
chuckle was low in his throat. "I'm not into bondage, if that's what
you're asking. Pleasure's al­ways been my game."

Forcing her eyes shut at that comment,
Maddie bit down on her lower lip, hard. She was trying with everything she had not to
let her traitorous mind wander into the pleasure department. Not now. Not when
she was only seconds away from crawling into bed with a naked man.

To her surprise, instead of shedding his fatigues,
he clamped the cuff around his own right hand, leaned over and pulled back the
covers and switched off the bedside light.

The room instantly became pitch-black.

"I
thought you were getting undressed," Maddie mocked when he didn't go
through with his threat.

He
leaned closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I wouldn't want to tempt
you. You might take ad­vantage of me."

"By putting a pillow over your face until you
pass out, you mean?"

He laughed, then found the small of her back with
his free hand. "Be a good girl and climb in first. I'll climb in right
behind you." Maddie didn't move until he gave her a gentle push. "And
then we'll be just as snug as two bugs in a rug," he added with another
one of those husky chuckles that unnerved her. "Which is an appropriate
way to be if you're sleeping with a famous entomologist, I would think."

"I wouldn't give up my day job," Maddie
scoffed. "A comedian you aren't."
She slid under the covers and scooted as far
to the opposite side of the bed as humanly possible. It didn't work. He scooted
right in behind her. A piece of paper couldn't have been wedged between them. Okay, you can do this, Maddie told herself. Like the man said, we're both two mature adults.
We're both ex­hausted. And there's no reason why we shouldn't get a little
sleep.

Not
that Maddie intended to fall asleep. After all, she was handcuffed to a total
stranger who had her sexual motor running faster than a turbo-charged Indy race
car! But she would get some rest. Rest was important if she wanted to survive
the next three days. Yes, she would just lie there in the darkness awake, still
as a mouse, and pretend she was asleep. Maybe then he would stop all the snuggly-buggly
crapola that was driving her out of her usually fo­cused mind.

But
God, he did feel good pressed up against her, she admitted with a mental moan.
In fact, they were a perfect fit. She would never have pictured Hawk as a cuddler kind
of guy. But lying there in the darkness in that intimate spooning position, sud­denly
made the whole point of cuddling crystal clear to Maddie. Until she felt an
unmistakable bulge pressing against her backside.

"Okay, soldier. That better be a hand grenade
in your pocket," Maddie warned, hoping the nervous­ness she felt wasn't
evident in her voice.

The second he moved away, Maddie let out a deep
sigh of relief. Or was it regret? Whatever! Maddie was simply too exhausted to
sort it all out. Unable to suppress a yawn, she mumbled, "It's go­ing to
be a long three days."

"Hopefully, long enough," he said with a
yawn of his own.

Maddie didn't dare ask, "Long enough for
what?"

She had a feeling she
already knew the answer.

 




5

 

The sound of the bedroom door closing launched Maddie into a sitting
position. Thankfully her iron bracelet and her bed-buddy were now both gone.

"God,
what a night," she groaned, glaring at Brad's beside clock. It was only
6:00 a.m., but he had been up and on the move for at least an hour while she
kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Amazingly she had managed to
stay awake most of the night, long after the sound of Brad's even breathing
told her he was out for the count; a fact that upset her whether Maddie wanted
to admit it or not.

Yes,
her, she mused. Dr. Madeline Morgan, the woman who only had time for her
career, had ac­tually been a bit disappointed that the handsome hunk who had
taken her prisoner hadn't been a little more persistent about his boastful
house-playing threat.

And what would you have done if he had tried to get
a little frisky? her pesky libido
wanted to know.

Refusing
to even ponder that question in her sleep-deprived state, Maddie scrambled from
the bed and made a mad dash for the bathroom. The reflection she saw in the
mirror a few seconds later, however, sent her fist to her mouth to stifle a
scream.

Her
hair, which had never fully recovered from the helicopter wind storm, looked as
if she had con­templated dreadlocks but left the task only halfway completed.
An ugly purple bruise the size of a quar­ter had popped out above her right
eyebrow. And worse yet, the skin now seemed to be missing on the very tip of
her nose. Praying her bloodshot eyes were only distorting her image, Maddie
leaned closer to the mirror, then reached up and tweaked the bright red spot.
An instant stab of pain told her bloodshot or not, her eyes still had perfect
20/20 vision.

"If this isn't a day for heavy makeup, I don't
know what would be," Maddie grumbled aloud, then remembered all she had
with her were the clothes on her back.

Wonderful, she
thought, frowning at her horrid reflection. No wonder she had awakened to an
empty bed. The way she looked, she suspected Mr. Air Force was probably in the
other room now, still hyperventilating over the shock of waking up next to
Medusa, snake hair and all! Of course, the minute she thought of Brad, Maddie
hurried back to the door to click the lock safely into place. And it wasn't
until she turned back around that she noticed the items he had offered her the
night before were now sitting in a neat little bundle on the closed toilet
seat.

Atop
the bundle was a note.

Maddie walked over and picked it up. Shower and get cleaned up. By the time you're
dressed, I should be back with breakfast. Baker is back at his guard post in
case you get any bright ideas about trying to escape again.

"Cute,
real cute," Maddie said aloud.

Yeah,
he was a real riot, that Hawk.

She
tossed the note into the wastebasket beside the sink, shed her rumpled clothing
and pulled back the shower curtain that was still damp from the shower Brad had
taken earlier. Stepping under the hot spray, she winced slightly when the water
found the tender places from the manhandling she had suf­fered the day before.
Too bad her arms and legs weren't the only things bruised. She hated to admit
it, but her ego was a little bruised, too, from the manhandling that hadn't taken
place the night be­fore. And that's what had her so puzzled.

Maddie
couldn't explain it, but in less than twenty-four hours she felt as if her
entire life had done a gigantic flip-flop. Even finding a Deva Skip­per seemed
unimportant at the moment, although that could easily be explained thanks to
Mary Beth and the media. Now, just holding on to her job had to be her main
priority.

But
what about all of the fantasizing? The funny feeling she got in the pit of her
stomach every time she looked at Hawk? Not to mention the sudden concern over
her appearance, which had never mat­tered one way or another to Maddie before.

Those
weren't her normal concerns.

Which
was why, Maddie decided, she had to pull herself together and she had to do it
fast. Captain Brad Hawkins was a luxury she simply couldn't af­ford. Not if she
intended to remain in control of her emotions and in
control of her life. So, she simply wouldn't give in to any further fantasies.
Nor would she allow herself to obsess over her ratty hair and whether or not
she had a big red wound on the tip of her nose. What she would do was start
acting like the woman she really was. A competent
woman. A focused woman. A confident woman. A woman with a kick-ass attitude, who knew what she
wanted out of life and what she had to do to get it.

"Will
the real Maddie Morgan please step for­ward?" Maddie
said aloud, and stepped from the shower a woman renewed.

Thirty minutes later, however, she certainly didn't
look like the real Maddie Morgan. Her standard mil­itary issue fatigue pants
were so large around the waist they fit like hip-huggers, and the T-shirt was
so small it strained across her ample bosom like something you would wear to a
wet T-shirt contest. Not that it mattered whether the T-shirt was wet or not.
Since she'd rinsed out her bra and her undies along with the rest of her
clothes that were now hanging discreetly behind the shower curtain, there was
nothing to encumber the two distinct protru­sions winking back at Maddie as she
stared at her­self in the mirror.

So much for getting back to my old self Maddie thought. If anything, she looked exactly
like Mary Beth.

Maddie rubbed her hand over her exposed midriff,
thinking that all she needed now was Mary Beth's belly-button ring. Yet,
knowing there wasn't a damn thing she could do about the situation or her
new clothes, Maddie stomped from the bathroom like the true survivor she was,
in search of one thing and one thing only.

Breakfast.

 

After making a morning check on Operation De­mob, Brad had made a stop by
the mess hall himself, then quickly returned to relieve Baker of his morn­ing
guard duties. He had chosen things he thought Maddie might like: cream cheese,
bagels and a va­riety of fruit. He'd also picked up two containers of orange
juice and a couple of disposable cups of hot coffee. He'd even remembered to grab
a few packets of artificial sweeter and some creamer, since he found women
rarely liked their coffee black the way he did himself.

Baker's
confirmation that he'd heard the shower running earlier told Brad his prisoner
was already awake. Had she been one of the usual women he found in his company,
Brad would have probably wandered into the bathroom and maybe even into the
shower with her. But Brad had to remind himself that Maddie wasn't one of his
dates. She was his prisoner. And the fact they'd already shared a bed didn't
change a thing.

Especially
since the bed sharing had been totally platonic; a fact Brad was still
struggling with, even though common sense told him he needed to main­tain the
same resolve over the next few days. And that was going to be the hard part.
Just like last night. He'd been teasing her, trying to keep her off balance,
until the proximity to her got out of control and he accidentally let her know
what was really on his mind. But who could blame him? What red-blooded American
male could snuggle up with Mad­die Morgan and not get
aroused?

Smiling
to himself over the comment she'd made about the hand grenade, Brad knew she
had spent most of the night awake, most likely worried that his male urges
would eventually get the better of him. Even when his own internal alarm clock
had awakened him at 5:00 a.m., he could tell she was only pretending to be
asleep. When he'd switched on the bedside light, he'd seen those long eyelashes
of hers flutter ever so slightly like the butterflies she was so passionate
about.

He'd been tempted to rattle her chain a little, let
her know he was on to her by cuddling up next to her again, until thoughts like
those evoked a re­sponse that sent him straight to the bathroom for a long,
cold shower. In fact, just thinking about her now was enough to make Brad
wonder if he shouldn't come up with a Plan B and back off on the sexual
advances. Those damn advances left him teetering on the fence every time he got
close to her.

And
falling for Maddie Morgan wasn't an option.

He
was a lifer. A military career man. He had made a solemn vow there would never
be any room in his life for a serious relationship. Maddie was no exception.

At least, those were Brad's convictions until the
bedroom door opened and she stepped into the room. Then all thought of the Air
Force and his convictions evaporated faster than a jet engine
vapor trail.

Sweet Maddie, hell! Brad thought. The way her T-shirt was clinging to
every curve, all he could do was stare at the two delectable mounds that seemed
to be begging for his immediate attention.

"Yes,
I have boobs. Now, close your mouth and stop staring at them."

Brad swallowed, hard. "Hey, you surprised me,
that's all," he lied.

She didn't answer. Instead she padded barefoot
across the room in his direction and headed straight for the local paper lying
on the table. Her eyes nar­rowed when she picked the paper up and read the bold
headlines THE SEARCH FOR MADAM
BUTTERFLY CONTINUES.

"Were
you expecting your sister to change her mind and call off the search?"

"Not
really."

"Well,
I was sure hoping she'd change her mind," Brad admitted. "If she'd
been willing to co­operate, we might have been able to put an end to this
predicament."

When
she didn't comment, Brad changed the sub­ject by motioning to the table he
already had set and waiting. "Hungry?"

"Starving,"
she said and tossed the paper into the trash can before she seated herself at
the table.

Okay,
Brad thought as he seated himself opposite
her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but she was acting differently
this morning. Sure, she had never seemed nervous or too timid to take up for
herself, but still, there was something different about her. She was acting
more...well, more aloof. Yeah, that was it. Today she seemed detached. Distant.

Which
might be a blessing in disguise, Brad de­cided when his eyes wandered back to
the two per­fect peaks responsible for the activity that was going on under the
napkin he had just placed on his lap.

"I
hate to keep harping on your sister," he said, testing the water a little
further, "but you're cer­tainly being more charitable about her behavior
than I would be if I were in your shoes."

The look she sent him was as unyielding as the
material stretched across her chest. "You don't know the first thing about
my sister. Mary Beth has been through some hard times. She craves valida­tion...
attention."

"Don't
we all? In one way or another?"

"Not
like Mary Beth," she argued. "How would you feel
if your childhood sweetheart left you stand­ing at the altar in front of your
entire hometown?''

Brad
tried to answer truthfully. "That's a difficult question for me. Because
standing at the altar is something I never intend to do."

She
blinked. "Nor do I. But you have to admit being left at the altar could
certainly shake a per­son's confidence."

Brad
was still hung up on her first sentence. What? She never wanted to get married?
He didn't know why that would bother him, but it did, so he asked, "You
mean you honestly don't see a husband and a family in your future?"

She
surprised him when she bypassed the cream and sugar and took a long sip of
black coffee straight from the cup. When she put the cup back down, she sent
him another frosty look. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Brad
grinned mainly because he knew his answer was going to irritate her. "I
have a hard time pic­turing you as an old maid.''

"Why?"
she challenged. "Because you find it hard to believe a woman would choose to
dedicate herself to a career rather than to a man?"

He
purposely sent her a leering grin. "I was under the impression women today
could have both a ca­reer and a family without having to make a choice."

"Most
women do want both." Her chin lifted. "I just don't happen to be one
of them."

Again,
her answer struck a raw nerve. He decided to probe a bit deeper. "Any
particular reason why you don't see marriage and a family in your fu­ture?''

The
look she sent him was challenging. ''I could ask you the same question."

Brad
hesitated, and when he did a smirk crossed her lips. "Why, Captain. I do
believe your double standard is showing," she accused. "How dare a
woman suggest giving up a family for her career. But don't dare
suggest a man should give up his career for a family."

Brad
didn't care for her new attitude, or for the fact that she had obviously
stereotyped him as some military grunt with a chauvinistic outlook on life.
Before he could stop himself, he said, "Like you told me earlier about
your sister, you don't know the first thing about me, Dr. Morgan. But I'll be
happy to tell you why I never intend to get married. My father was killed in
Vietnam when I was six. I grew up without a father, and my mother died with a
broken heart. Every time I get behind the controls in a cockpit I risk the
chance of not coming back. Leaving behind a devastated wife and family is not a
scenario I care to repeat."

He
could tell he'd embarrassed her, and that hadn't been his intention. Nor had he
intended to blurt out his deepest feelings. She'd pushed the wrong buttons at
the wrong time and ....

Dammit to hell! Now
IÅ‚ve made her cry.

And
if there was one thing in the world that tore Brad's heart out, it was the
sight of a woman's tears.

"Hey,
don't cry," he pleaded. "I overre­acted...."

She
shook her head. "No, I'm the one who over­reacted," she sniffed,
dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. "I'm so used to defending myself
because my goal in life isn't to snag a husband and help populate the world, I
assumed you were as judg­mental as everyone else. But I am really sorry about
your parents. Losing both of them had to be horrible for you."

Now he was the one who felt uncomfortable. And he
certainly didn't need or want her sympathy. Push­ing another napkin in her
direction, he tried to change the subject. "Hey, forget it. We're both on
edge, and who could blame us? You're anxious to get back to your life, and I
need to get back to mine. Anyway you look at it, this whole situation
sucks."

She
managed a slight smile. "I guess we're really a lot alike, you and me. We're
both dedicated to our careers and we're perfectly satisfied with our lives just
the way they are." Unfortunately her face clouded over when she added,
"I guess I should say, I'm satisfied with my life the way it used to be, shouldn't
I? Before yesterday."

Brad
swore under his breath when she left the table and headed straight for the
television. "Don't you think it might be better if you didn't know
what was going on out there?" he suggested. After all, they were just
beginning to find common ground.

She
ignored his plea and switched on the set. As luck would have it, the first
thing that popped up on the screen was a picture of Madam Butterfly herself.
"God, I hate that picture," she groaned.

Brad
glanced at the TV. He had to admit the pic­ture wasn't flattering in the least.
Wearing horn-­rimmed reading glasses, and with her hair pulled back from her
face, she looked exactly like the old maid schoolteacher type she claimed she
wanted to be. Which suited Brad just fine, when he thought about it. In fact,
the idea of men ogling Maddie the way he knew they ogled her Evershine sister,
didn't sit well with him at all.

"The
search for Dr. Madeline Morgan is ongo­ing," the news commentator
announced, "and has been expanded to a hundred-mile radius around the location
where Dr. Morgan was last seen. Air Force troops conducting routine maneuvers
outside Ros­well have now joined in the search..." She immediately whirled
around and sent him a shocked look. "And whose idea was that? Yours? Join
in the search so no one would think to look for me here on the base?"

Brad
shrugged. And the only thing he could think to say was, "Sometimes a guy's
gotta do what a guy's gotta do."

She
frowned. "I hate clichés. Can't you come up with a more original excuse
than that one?"

Here
we go again, Brad thought, cursing
himself for not realizing she would never calm down enough to ride out the next
two days as long as she had access to the outside world. And because he still
hadn't come up with a Plan B, he did what any soldier would do when he found
himself with his back against the wall.

Pulling
himself up from his chair, Brad's grin was slow and deliberate when he said,
"I've always been rather fond of clichés, myself. In fact, another one of
my favorites is a bird in hand is worth two in the bush. Or would you feel more
comfortable if I changed it to a
butterfly in hand is worth two in the
bush?"

"No, changing it only makes me angry all over
again," she said, staring him down. "If you remem­ber, I almost had a
butterfly in hand until you zoomed in out of nowhere."

"And
if you remember, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. You're
the one who zoomed in out of nowhere."
He surprised her when he grabbed the remote from her hand and switched off the
set. He purposely looked her up and down before he said, "You know, I
meant to tell you earlier it really should be illegal for anyone to look that
good in military fatigues."

She
tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "You're out of clichés, so now
you're going to try pickup lines?"

Brad
grinned. "No, I'd rather point out something else I just realized."

"That
your usual techniques aren't working with me?" she said with her hands on
her hips now.

"You
said yourself you have no intention of get­ting involved with anyone."

"What
a relief. From the way you're acting, I didn't think you heard that
statement."

"But don't you see?" Brad insisted.
"You have no intention of getting involved with anyone, and neither do I.
So why not make the most of a bad situation?''

"Now you're right back to the clichés,"
she said, stepping around him. "And here's another one you might want to
add to your collection"If sex is the questionno is the answer!'"

Brad
flinched when the bedroom door slammed behind her. He'd been messing with her
again. He wasn't proud of it, but at least he'd taken her mind off the field
day the media was still having with the ridiculous abduction story. Still, he
felt guilty. Es­pecially since their conversation earlier dispelled Baker's
theory about her being the type of woman who would have him back in civilian
clothes and changing diapers. Hell, they weren't even likely to cross paths
again. Could he picture himself hanging out on a college campus in hometown
Georgia? No way. That was as unlikely as her giving up her re­search to follow
him around the country while he bounced from base to base.

Wandering
back to the table, Brad dumped the leftovers from breakfast into the trash,
fully ashamed of himself for forcing her to flee back into the bed­room. The
hours that stretched out before them were going to be long enough without her
sulking alone in one room and him in the other. And with that thought in mind,
Brad grabbed a box off the book­case shelf, walked across the room and rapped
softly against his bedroom door.

 

Maddie jumped at the sound of the knock. She was still leaning with her back
against the door, wondering when to expect the next close encounter of the dangerous kind
when Brad called out, "Come on out, Maddie. I'm sorry, okay? I'll behave
myself. I promise."

You're not the one IÅ‚m worried about, Maddie wanted to yell back. She was worried about
herself. One minute she'd been determined to stay cool, calm and collected
around him, and the next minute all she could think about was hugging him to
her breast over the hurt he'd suffered at the loss of his parents. Was she
having some kind of an identity crisis? Is that what was wrong with her?

More
like a no-life crisis. This guy might help you get one. "Shut up!" Maddie said aloud without
thinking.

"Hey,
I don't blame you for not believing me," he called back through the door.
"But the day is going to be long enough without you barricading yourself
in the bedroom. Open up. I have an idea I think you're going to like."

After a few seconds, Maddie reluctantly opened
the door. The second she saw that irresistible grin she was tempted to slam the
door right back in his face.

"How about a game of chest? I mean,
chess?"

Maddie
did try
to slam the door after that faux pas, but he thrust his foot forward, keeping
the door open with his heavy boot. "I was just kidding. Lighten up."

Maddie sent him a warning look, then sent an
idle glance at the box he was holding out for her in­spection.

"Am I right in suspecting an educated
woman like yourself would know her way around a chess­board?"

"I've
played my share of chess," Maddie admit­ted. "And I never lose."

He stepped aside and made a sweeping motion
in the direction of the table. "Then we should have a good game. Because I
never lose, either."

As Maddie walked past him, she heard him
mutter under his breath, "and I'm not just talking about chess."

"Did you say something?" she asked
innocently as she sat down at the table.

"No.
I didn't say anything." He sent her another grin that would have made her
knees buckle if she hadn't already been sitting down.

You
big fibber, Maddie thought as he walked
over to where she was sitting and placed the box on the table. Funny that chess
would be his game, she de­cided. She would have picked poker instead, in a
smoke-filled room with a bunch of his buddies like Baker huddled around the
table. Chess was a game that required more brains than brawn and complete
concentration. Yet, when she thought about it, being responsible for the
current most top-secret helicopter in the military took a good deal of
brainpower and concentration as well.

"How
about a game of skittles first?" he asked as he took the board out of the
box and began sort­ing out the carved pieces into two groups.

Maddie
shook her head. "Absolutely not. I never play chess just for fun."

And
then she had a brilliant idea.

"In
fact," Maddie added, amazed at her own re­sourcefulness, "I think we
should make this a high-stakes game."

His
eyebrow raised slightly, telling her she'd got­ten his attention with that
request. "High stakes?"

Maddie
smiled. "Exactly. When I win, you'll take me to Commander Gibbons and let
me see if I can't put an end to this madness."

He
shook his head. "I've already told you, that isn't going to happen."

Maddie
frowned. "Then, when I win, you'll let me make one more phone call to my
sister."

He
looked at her for a moment. "You keep saying when you
win, and I assure you, that isn't going to happen. But say I do grant you that
phone call if you lucked out and won this game. My idea of a
high-stakes game, means I have
something to gain from the bet, too. What do I get when you lose?''''

"If
you win, I'll never ask you for another
favor."

"Not
good enough."

"I'll
give you my word I won't try to escape again."

He shook his head. "How about when I win, you'll accept your fate and start
behaving your­self?"

Maddie hesitated. "And that translates to
mean?"

"Only
that you'll stop being so uptight and relax a little. Give yourself the chance
to see if we can't be compatible roommates while we ride out the next two
days."

I'm
sure you mean compatible bedmates, Maddie
thought, and with more confidence than she felt, Maddie said, "It's a
deal. Because this is one game I don't intend to lose."

"I
don't intend to lose, either," he said. "In fact, I'm so confident
you can't beat me, I'm even going to let you make the first move."

"And
I'm going to accept that offer," Maddie said with a grin of her own,
"because the first rule in being a good chess player is to always take
every advantage that comes your way."

"Touché,"
he conceded, and Maddie forced her concentration back on the board. She could
still feel him staring at her, unnerving her to the point she was afraid
everything she knew about the game of chess would disappear from her memory.
She was even hoping that he was staring at her disheveled hair and her red nose.
Better her bruises than the fact that she was braless. It really would have the
potential of turning into a chest
game if his careful scrutiny caused her dang
nipples to spring to life.

"That
move might have given you a slight edge," he said when Maddie finally
reached out and moved one of her pawns. "But I should have warned
you," he added. "They don't call me the king of counter­attack for
nothing."

Maddie
frowned at the board when Brad proved his point. Okay. So, he was sharp. So,
what? She was pretty sharp herself. She just needed to focus on what she was
doing. She needed to study the board carefully. Make every move count....

"Hey,
stop it," Maddie said when he reached un­der the table and pulled her bare
foot into his lap. When he began gently massaging her foot, his touch was so
sensuous Maddie had trouble catching her breath.

"I
heard somewhere the best thing for concentra­tion is a good foot massage,"
he said, never batting an eye.

"And
where did you hear that? Letterman's Top Ten list?"

"I
never would have figured you for a Letterman fan."

Maddie
wrangled her foot free. "Admit it, Hawk. You're trying to break my
concentration because I've got you running scared after only one move. If
you're really afraid I'm going to beat you, why don't you let me make that
phone call now?"

"No
way will you ever beat me," he said, leaning back in his chair. He
stretched his arms over his head, making his T-shirt ride up to expose
incredible six-pack abs tanned a deep bronze. "In fact, I'm even willing
to extend our bet to two games out of three."

Maddie quickly averted her eyes away from his
stomach and back to the board. "That won't be nec­essary. I intend to beat
your pants off first time out."

Yikes!
Wrong choice of words. Maddie knew it the
second they rolled off her tongue.

"With an offer like that, I might be tempted
to throw this game," he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

"Damn you. That was just a manner of speech
and you know it."

"I thought you didn't like clichés."

"Just
play the game," Maddie warned.

And he did. Maddie knew he played his heart out,
but this was one time the captain's best just wasn't good enough.

"Checkmate!" Maddie finally cheered. She
stuck her arm out and wiggled her fingers in his direction. "Show me the
cell phone." When all he did was sit there and stare back at her, Maddie
frowned.

He pushed back from the table and folded his arms
across his chest. "I don't have it with me," he finally admitted.

"What do you mean you don't have the phone
with you?" Maddie snapped. "You should have told me that when we
first made the bet."

He scowled in her direction and Maddie actually
laughed for the first time since she'd been taken prisoner. And once she
started laughing, she couldn't seem to stop. Chess pieces began bouncing all
over the board every time she pounded the metal table.

"What's
so damn funny?"

Maddie
pointed her finger in his direction. "You really didn't think I could beat
you, did you? Admit it."

His
dark eyes flashed a menacing look back at her. "Okay. I admit it. But you
did beat my pants off, didn't you? So, why don't you walk over here and get
them?"

And
in that instant, the strategy he'd been using on her all along became as clear
to Maddie as one of her specimens under a high-power microscope. She'd been
acting like a naive schoolgirl since the minute she'd met him, allowing Hawk to
intimidate her with his come-ons. It was just another area where she'd lost
complete control since the infa­mous Black Ghost had flown in and turned her
world upside down. She had no control over her sister, she had no control over
the media, nor did she have any control over the fact that she might not even
have a faculty position when she finally made it back home to Morgan City.

But
Hawk was a different story.

For
the first time in her life, Maddie threw caution to the wind and forgot all
about being reserved, de­voted, stick-in-the-mud Dr. Madeline Morgan. "You
know, I think I will," Maddie said before she lost her nerve.

He
sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Yeah, right."

"You
don't think I'm serious?" Maddie said, sending him a coy little smile as
she pushed back from the table and stood up. "Well, I am serious.

You've finally won me
over, Hawk. You said it yourself, there's no reason why we shouldn't have
a little fun while we're forced to spend this time together."

"You're
bluffing and you know it," he gulped, giving Maddie the courage she needed
to be even bolder.

When
she reached his chair, Maddie snapped her fingers and pointed to his pants.
"I'm not kidding. Hand them over."

He
laughed and looked up at her with a cocky grin. "You're playing a
dangerous game here, Pro­fessor. I should warn you, I don't believe in under­wear."

"That's
your misfortune," Maddie said, trying to control the tremor in her voice.
"I couldn't care less about the status of your underwear."

His
grin evaporated. "You think I'm not on to you, Maddie? You really think
I'm going to hand over my pants so you can make another split for the
door?"

Maddie
stepped even closer, actually forcing her­self between his legs while he
remained seated in the chair. Mercy me, wasn't that a
stimulating ex­perience? So stimulating, Maddie pushed the enve­lope a bit
further when she let her fingers do a slow walk up the front of Brad's T-shirt.
"Don't worry, Hawk. I'm not going anywhere."

He
stuttered for a response, but Maddie ran a fin­gertip slowly around his mouth
before bending down and silencing him with a kiss so thorough she felt him
stiffen like a week-old corpse. The fact that she was also digging her own
grave was a moot point. She was drunk on power, and she discovered she liked
being the aggressor. This time, the game was going to be about what she wanted,
not what Hawk wanted her to give him.

"Stop
it," he said, and managed to push her away. He stood up then and frowned
down at her. "You've proved your point, okay? You've beaten me at my other
game, too. I admit it."

"Your
other game?" Maddie said, feigning sur­prise. "But, Brad. I said I agree
with you. Why waste time playing chess, when we could..."

"Didn't
you hear me? I said you've proved your point."

"Oh,
no, I haven't," Maddie purred, stepping closer to circle her arms around
his neck. "Now take those pants off, Captain, and let's play house."

He
grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pinned her arms to her sides, forcing
her to look at him. "Don't tempt me, Maddie. Don't think I won't march
your brainy little butt right in that bedroom and show you..."

"And
show me what?"

He
glared at her for a second longer. Then he pulled her to him and kissed her so
passionately she melted like butter on a hot iron griddle. They stared at each
other again when their lips broke apart, but their lips didn't stay apart long.
Maddie quickly pulled Brad's head down for more, lost again in an­other
mind-blowing kiss that had every muscle in her body tuned in, turned up and
turned on for any­thing Brad wanted to offer.

She
didn't resist when his hands found their way beneath her T-shirt. Nor did she
resist when he started backing up, taking her with him as they both stumbled
blindly in the direction of his bedroom. He closed the bedroom door and pushed
her roughly up against it, smothering her again with kisses so urgent Maddie
had trouble breathing. She wasn't sure how they made it to the bed, but Brad
had her T-shirt off faster than he'd removed her hiking boots. She bit down on
her lower lip when his hands slid down to cup what he was seeking, and when he
lowered his head and his hot mouth covered her bare flesh, the pleasure Maddie
felt was more than she ever dreamed it could be.

She
was still lost in the sheer magic of the mo­ment when a knock on the door
snatched her from outer space and sent her crashing back to earth like the
alleged spacecraft that was responsible for mak­ing Roswell so famous.

"Dammit, Baker. Go away," Brad yelled,
prompting Maddie to wiggle out of from under him and take refuge in the
darkened bathroom.

"The
old man wants you, Hawk," Baker called from the other room.

When
Maddie peeped out from behind the bath­room door, Brad sent her a pitiful look
and said, "Tell him I'll be there shortly."

"He
said pronto, Hawk. I wouldn't keep him waiting."

"Go,"
Maddie urged, motioning frantically for Brad to toss over her missing T-shirt.

All
it had taken was one knock on the door to pop that big bubble of desire she'd
been lost in and bring her right back to her senses. Now, standing behind the
bathroom door half-naked, all she could think about was how fast flirting with
danger had almost coerced her out of more than her T-shirt.

Maddie
shivered.

And
not from the chill in the room.




6

 

Brad finally relented and
tossed the T-shirt in her direction. The second she caught it, Maddie slammed
the bathroom door shut. Talk
about lousy timing, Brad
thought, rubbing a hand over his face. But was the timing really lousy? Maybe
Baker's in­terruption was a blessing in disguise.

He was upset just thinking about how quickly
he'd lost control of the situation. As did the way his ability to reason
disappeared the second Maddie kissed him. It had taken only one kiss to throw
him into a tailspin. And if he wasn't careful, Brad knew keeping her out of his
heart would be as hopeless as jumping from a plane with a parachute missing its
damn rip cord.

He walked across the room, then paused for a
second before he rapped softly on the bathroom door. "I shouldn't be gone
long," he called through the door, and the minute he said it, Brad felt
like a complete idiot.

But what could you say at a time like this?

Sorry, honey, but duty calls? Hold that
thought, sugar, we'll pick up where we left off when I get back?

Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

"Just go, Brad," she called back,
her voice sounding desperate. "Maybe Commander Gibbons has finally decided
to release me."

Excuse me?

Sure, he knew she was embarrassed. What woman
wouldn't have been embarrassed to have someone burst in on such an intimate
moment? But was Mad­die really that eager to get away from him now that they'd
finally stopped playing mind games and acted on their attraction for each
other?

Resting his forehead against the closed door,
Brad took a deep breath. "Don't analyze what just hap­pened between us to
death while I'm gone, Maddie. We'll talk when I get back."

He suddenly wondered if he was
ready to let her go.

MADDIE KNEW BRAD WAS GONE when
she heard the bedroom door close behind him, leaving behind Baker, she was
sure, to keep her captive. Baker, who Maddie would now have to face alone,
knowing the big goon had to be laughing his head off over Hawk's latest coup
dÅ‚état of the henhouse variety.

Dammit! How could she have been so wrong? She
had always scoffed at Mary Beth's romance novels, and even at the movies when
some otherwise rational female was suddenly swept away by a wave of raw passion
that Maddie had never believed was real. But dear God, there really was such a
thing a raw passion! How else could Maddie explain what had just happened to
her, a totally rational woman?

Her basic instincts had simply taken over.

Basic instincts! God, she felt so stupid. She had even devoted her
thesis to the similarities of insects and humans in the mate selection.
Comparing a pro­cess known to evolutionary biologists as runaway selection with
what Charles Darwin called sexual selection for humans, Maddie had argued that
re­gardless of the species, the male always has a certain trait, whatever it
might be, that attracts the female. And that's what had been happening to her
from the moment she laid eyes on Captain Brad Hawkins. She had finally met a
man who completely stimu­lated all of her basic instincts. She hadn't gone
crazy, after all. Nor had she lost sight of her goals. She was just normal.
Wonderfully, delightedly and deliciously normal.

Maddie felt like shouting for joy. She also
felt like dancing into the other room and sticking her tongue out at her
bodyguard with a nanna-nanna-nanna-na pose. Because the last thing she was
going to do was remain hidden out in the bedroom like a kid caught doing
something naughty until Hawk re­turned.

She had finally experienced the thrill of
being a woman. Not a woman completely devoted to her career. Not a professor of
entomology with no time for anyone or anything in her life but her work. A
woman who had no intention of being embarrassed about having a healthy sexual appetite,
whether Ser­geant I-told-you-so Baker liked it or not.

Opening the bedroom door, Maddie headed
straight into the adjoining room like Joan of Arc returning from another
victory. She purposely sent Baker a triumphant smile.

He sent her a triumphant smile right back.
"I brought you some lunch," he said, motioning to the table.

Maddie glanced at the tray sitting on the
table. "Thanks. Maybe I'll eat later."

He grinned knowingly. "Maybe after Hawk
gets back you'll work up more of an appetite."

Despite her big pep talk, Maddie felt her
cheeks flame.

"You know," Baker said with another
teasing grin. "I had a feeling you might change your mind about my old
buddy, Hawk. Once you really
got to know him, I mean."

"Now listen here, Baker..."

Baker held his hands up. "Whoa, Dr.
Morgan. Don't get all riled up. I'm just making my own ob­servation, that's
all. And trying to save you a little embarrassment later
on."

"Embarrassment?"

"Yeah," Baker said, grinning from
ear to ear. "I hate to point this out, but your T-shirt's on wrong-side
out."

Maddie stomped back into the bedroom and
slammed the door to show Baker exactly what she thought about his keen
observation. She put her T-shirt on the right way, made herself as presentable
as possible with the limited resources she had at her disposal, then busied
herself tidying up the bedroom, straightening up the bed and pausing long
enough to inhale the heady aroma of Brad's scent from his pillow.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of his
bed, she hugged Brad's pillow to her breast, trying not to
do exactly what he'd warned her about before he left. But why had he
warned her not to analyze their situation to death? Because he knew he'd do the
same thing once they were apart?

Yes, that had to be it, Maddie decided. They
were, after all, two of a kind. Brad knew as well as she did there would never
be any possibility for a real relationship between them. They'd been caught up
in the moment, that's all. Overwhelmed by the over­powering physical attraction
they felt for each other. Unaware of how quickly taunting and teasing each
other could push them farther than either of them had ever intended to go.

Unfortunately her handsome captain had
certainly punched a giant hole in her theory that sex was a rudimentary fact of
life she could do quite nicely without.

But now she felt like a kid who'd been given
one lick of a lollipop, only to have it snatched away.

Maddie didn't know what would happen when
Brad did come back but she did know there wouldn't be any more lighthearted
teasing between them. At least, not at first. When he came back they would have
to face each other seriously and decide if they wanted to pick things up where
they left off, or...

"Dr. Morgan? I think you'd better come
watch this," Baker yelled from the other room.

Tossing the pillow aside, Maddie left the bed
and hurried into the other room. She came to a screech­ing halt when she found
not only Mary Beth, but Brad staring back at her from the television screen.

"What's this all about?" Maddie
asked, turning to Baker.

"The best I can tell, your sister's
making alle­gations that the Air Force is holding you captive."

"Allegations?" Maddie shouted.

"You know what I mean." Baker
shifted uncom­fortably from one foot to the other, then jammed his thumbs into
the front pockets of his fatigues. "Your sister's stirring things up.
She's demanding that someone come out here and search the base."

Maddie frowned. Search the base? Not now. Not yet. Not until she and Brad could have
that talk. She looked back at the screen when Brad said, "I want to assure
Miss Morgan and the citizens of Roswell the Air Force is assisting
in every way possible to assure Dr. Morgan's safety...."

"Then why won't you let anyone search
the base?" Mary Beth cut in. Her arms were folded stubbornly across her
chest. A chest that was now completely covered, Maddie noticed, since today in­stead
of a tube top, Mary Beth was wearing a mod­est.... "That's my best linen
suit!" Maddie yelled before Brad turned a cold stare in her sister's direc­tion
and said,

"As I told you earlier, Miss Morgan,
searching the base would be a total waste of time. And time is of the essence
in this matter."

The reporter spoke up. "You're
referring, of course, to the harsh desert elements threatening Dr. Morgan.
Right, Captain Hawkins?"

Mary Beth didn't give Brad time to answer.
"I didn't suggest we should stop
searching the desert, Captain Hawkins. I
merely suggested we should search the Air Force base, as well."

When Brad frowned, Maddie watched her twin
turn on her usual winning Mary Beth charm. Batting her eyelashes innocently,
she added, "I mean, it's possible my sister is scared and confused after
such a trying ordeal. Maybe she's hiding somewhere on the base, afraid to show
herself because she's not sure what that strange aircraft really was. And what
about you, Captain Hawkins? Do you have any idea what that strange aircraft
could have been?"

"A figment of your imagination,
maybe?" Brad said, making several members of the curious crowd that
surrounded them chuckle at his reply.

Mary Beth's eyes narrowed. Shaking her finger
in Brad's direction, she said, "Your willingness to make light of my
sister's disappearance, Captain Hawkins, only confirms my suspicions. Tell us
the truth. The reason the Air Force doesn't want us on that base is because
you're holding my sister against her will. Admit it!"

When the tense-looking reporter shoved the mi­crophone
back in Brad's direction, his words came out as a hiss through his clenched teeth.
"I was not making light of Dr. Morgan's disappearance. I was only pointing
out that maybe you should stick to one story at a time, Miss Morgan. Yesterday,
the aliens abducted your sister. Today you say the Air Force is responsible.
Who will it be tomorrow? The World Wrestling Federation?"

"Why you..."

Maddie gasped when Mary Beth pulled off one
of her shoes and lunged in Brad's direction. The nervous reporter quickly
stepped between them, try­ing to hold Mary Beth at bay, but a big, burly
biker-looking guy in a leather jacket suddenly rushed from the crowd to Mary
Beth's rescue. The biker pushed the reporter down, then shoved his big hand
over the camera lens, forcing the cameraman back and out of the way.

In a split second there was total
pandemonium.

The cameraman finally recovered long enough
to keep panning the crowd. Maddie watched in horror as the situation quickly
turned from bad to worse. Mary Beth was still waving her shoe in the air, and
the leather-clad barbarian was now poking his finger forcefully against Brad's
chest.

"You, sir, need to calm down,"
Maddie heard Brad say, but the big guy drew his fist back and landed a punch
that sent Brad sprawling backward into the startled crowd.

"Hawk never should have made that
comment about the WWF," Baker mumbled absently as the crowd pushed Brad
back into the big bruiser's path.

"Why isn't someone stopping this?"
Maddie screeched.

"Don't worry. Hawk can take care of
himself," Baker said with a chuckle.

Maddie bit her lower lip when Brad and his
grin­ning opponent began circling each other, ready for battle. "But won't
Brad get in trouble? Surely your commander won't condone this type of
behavior."

"Hawk didn't start this," Baker
said with a snort. "If anything, that bum in the leather jacket would be in
trouble for striking an officer."

When the big man lunged in Brad's direction
again, Maddie covered her eyes with her hands. She didn't look until she heard
a loud groan. When she peeped back through her fingers, Brad was rubbing his
right hand, but the biker was lying facedown in the dirt, leaving the words on
the back of his leather jacket face-up for all the world to see: Go Ahead. Make
My Day.

And then the screen went blank before the
broad­cast returned to the regular programming.

Maddie frowned at Baker who was doubled over
with laughter.

"That was priceless. Absolutely
priceless. Make my day? Hawk sure made his day, all right."

"You should be ashamed of
yourself," Maddie scolded. "Brad could have been hurt."

Baker stopped laughing long enough to say,
"You still have a lot to learn about my old buddy, Hawk. Trust me. If
there's ever a fight, you want to be on Hawk's
side."

Maddie didn't comment, but Baker's advice sud­denly
made her stomach queasy. Mary Beth had been begging her for years to stop playing
book­worm and take notice of the opposite sex. Well, she'd finally taken
notice. And what had happened? Her twin and the only man who'd ever made her
heart flutter had practically gotten into a fistfight on national TV.

Now, they hated each other.

And if she ever had to choose sides between
them?

Well, if that ever happened, Maddie feared
she'd end up much like the biker, facedown in the dirt while Mary Beth and Brad
stood snarling at each other over her poor lifeless body.

HOURS LATER, Maddie was awakened
by a gentle shake of her arm. "Brad?" she mumbled, raising herself up
on one elbow to push her hair out of her eyes.

It was only Baker, who switched on the
bedside light and plopped her hiking boots down on the bed. "You need to
change into your own clothes, Dr. Morgan, and you need to hurry."

"Where's Brad? Have you heard from
him?" She glanced at the bedside clock, shocked to see the dig­ital
readout: 4:00 a.m.

Baker didn't answer. His only response when
he left the bedroom was, "Hurry, Dr. Morgan. I need to get you out of here
and we don't have much time."

Get me out of here? Maddie wondered. In the middle of the night?
Without seeing Brad again? She was furious that this was how he'd chosen to
deal with the short spurt of intimacy they'd allowed themselves. To have his
boy, Baker, do his dirty work for him, and get rid of her so he wouldn't have
to face her again.

With an imagination jumping to conclusions
fas­ter than a desert jackrabbit, Maddie wiggled out of her standard government
issue duds and made the transformation back to Dr. Madeline Morgan. All that
was missing was her pith helmet. What had hap­pened to it? The last time Maddie
even remembered having the damn thing was when she finally pulled herself out
from under Baker's massive form when they were in the helicopter.

When a rap on the bathroom door told her she
wasn't moving fast enough, Maddie opened the door with fire in her eyes.
"Tell me right now if you're letting me go, Baker," Maddie said with
her chin jutted forward. "Because if you're only moving me to another
location, you're going to have one hell of a fight on your hands."

"You're free to go now, Dr. Morgan. I
swear," Baker gulped. "I just need to get you safely outside the base
without you being seen."

Seconds later, Maddie found herself creeping
si­lently along behind Baker, who stopped at every corridor to check for any
signs of life. He then mo­tioned her forward as he slipped into the shadows. If
she hadn't been so irritated that Brad hadn't seen fit to at least escort her
off the base himself, Maddie would have laughed at the two of them tiptoeing
across the base like two thieves in the night. It was on the tip of her tongue
to go ahead and ask Baker exactly where his old buddy, Hawk, happened to be
when Baker motioned her to stop and drew his fin­ger to his lips. He pushed her
backward and flattened her against the block building. They both remained
hidden in the shadows until two soldiers on guard duty strolled past them,
never detecting their presence.

When they were well outside the fence
surround­ing the base, Baker led her up a small hill. It wasn't until they
reached the bottom of the hill on the other side that Maddie could see the
outline of a vehicle in the bright moonlight. Propped against it was a
silhouette she had no trouble identifying. Maddie al­most shouted for joy, but
Baker extended his hand and said, "Good luck, Dr. Morgan, this is as far
as I go."

"Thank you, Sergeant Baker," Maddie
told him, then reached out and shook the big man's hand. When he turned and
slipped back into the shadows, Maddie had to force herself to keep from running
straight toward the man waiting for her in the moon­light.

Of course, the scene playing out inside her
head was a different story. Like in the movies, Maddie imagined them running to
each other in slow mo­tion, Brad lifting her off the ground when he pulled her
into his arms, then swinging her around in a circle, overcome with joy that
they had finally been reunited.

But a movie this wasn't. This was real life.
And when she finally reached the expensive Humvee that was waiting to take her
back to reality, Maddie was so uncertain about how she should react at seeing
him again, she didn't walk toward the handsome captain who had stolen her
heart. Instead she seated herself primly on the passenger side seat without
even saying hello. It wasn't until Brad pulled him­self into the seat beside
her that the moonlight gave her a perfect view of the ugly bruise around his
right eye.

"Oh, Brad, I'm so sorry," Maddie
cried. "For everything. For climbing that fence. For taking those
pictures. For trying to escape. For this..." she added and reached out to
gently touch his swollen eye. "Does it hurt?"

"It hurt my pride," Brad said,
laughing slightly. "Getting punched in the face on national TV isn't
something I'm going to live down anytime soon."

"That was my fault, too," Maddie
apologized. "You were nice enough to let me call Mary Beth, and then
she..."

"Hush," Brad said, reaching out to
put his finger to her lips. "The only thing I'm sorry about is that we
don't have any more time together."

Maddie didn't pull away as he leaned forward
and kissed her lightly on the lips. "About what hap­pened, Maddie...I just
wish...I wish things were different... that we were different... that..."

"Don't," Maddie spoke up, unwilling
to listen to everything she already knew herself. "We got caught up in the
moment, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less. Let's leave it at that."

"You're probably right," he said
with a sigh.

You could at least argue with me, Maddie thought grumpily. Instead he turned on the
ignition. In a matter of seconds they were racing across the desert in the
moonlight, with Maddie biting her lower lip to keep from crying every time Brad
squeezed her hand.

Stop acting like a big baby, Maddie kept telling herself. Like Brad said, their
time was up. There was no point in crying over what might have been. No reason
for her to feel as if her whole world was ending. If anything, she should be
rejoicing that she could finally put an end to the silly nightmare Mary

Beth
had started. Maddie knew all of this, just as well as she knew she wouldn't
have had a future with Brad if they had acted on their emotions. They were two
of a kind, destined to spend the rest of their lives devoted completely to their
careers.

Yet, thirty minutes later when the Humvee
finally came to a stop and Brad turned to face her, all Mad­die wanted was a
little more time.

"Is your Black Ghost finally safe now?
Is that why you're letting me go early?" Too early, as far as I'm concerned, Maddie wanted to add.

Brad shook his head. "Not yet. And after
what happened yesterday, it will be a miracle if the whole town of Roswell
isn't climbing over the fence when I get back to the base."

"But..."

"Gibbons is letting you go because I gave
him my word you could be trusted. And I can trust you. Can't I, Maddie?"

"Completely," Maddie said and she
meant it.

He reached out and took her hands in both of
his.

"I've been honest with you from the
beginning, and I'm not going to lie to you now. The Black Ghost isn't fully
dismantled and we can't risk any­one searching the base."

"But if I'm found..."

"There won't be any reason to search the
base," Brad finished for her.

Maddie sent Brad a somber look. "Well, I
hate to point this out, Brad, but that's exactly what I've been saying from the
beginning."

"I know you have. I tried to point out
that same thing, but Gibbons was convinced you'd talk to the press the second
we let you go. I've promised him you won't do that, Maddie. We need your cooper­ation."

"Well, pardon me if I'm not elated
because your commander suddenly wants to promote me to some Air Force emissary!
I could have solved this prob­lem two days ago, and maybe even salvaged my
reputation. But nooooo. Gibbons wouldn't have any part of that."

His nod was sympathetic. "You have every
right to be angry, and I don't blame you. But I'm asking you to keep the Black
Ghost a secret for one reason and one reason only. Because it's the right thing
to do, Maddie. I think you already know that."

His expression was so wounded, Maddie
couldn't bring herself to torture him any further. "Fine, you have my
word. No one will ever hear about the Black Ghost from me."

The relief on his face turned to concern when
he said, "You realize, of course, this isn't going to be easy for you.
You're going to be bombarded from all sides. The media, the police, the public.
It's go­ing to be a regular three-ring circus for a few days. And I swear,
Maddie, I would spare you all of that if I could."

"That's what has me worried,"
Maddie admitted. "How am I going to explain where I've been for the past
two days? Everyone will expect me to be near death's door. Sunburned.
Dehydrated..."

"I could give you a plausible story.
There are a few cottonwood trees you could have used for shel­ter. I could even
provide you with an explanation about how you took nourishment from the plant
life in lieu of water..."

"But?"

"But no matter what story we could
contrive, there's the possibility someone would challenge it and ask you for
more details that you wouldn't have. That's why it's best if you don't say a
thing. Let them speculate all they want, but don't admit to any­thing. If you
refuse to say a word, they can't poke holes in your story."

Maddie blinked. "But, Brad, if I refuse
to give them any kind of an explanation, the media will ex­ploit this alien
abduction story for all it's worth."

"I don't think that will happen,"
Brad insisted. "The media is too ratings-oriented. The second they realize
you aren't going to talk to them, they're go­ing to drop you and move on to the
next story of the hour."

Maddie let out a long sigh. "I sure hope
you're right."

Brad dragged a hand over his face and let out
a long sigh himself. "You're a remarkable woman, Maddie Malone. I hope you
know that."

"I'll try to keep that in mind when I'm
being chased down the street by The
National Enquirer,'' Maddie
said, trying to lighten his mood.

It didn't work.

His expression looked as miserable as she
felt.

"That was a joke," Maddie said,
trying to lighten the weight on her heart. "Are you purposely trying to be
a pain in the ass? Or is this normal for you?"

BRAD LAUGHED, but he wasn't laughing
on the in­side. On the inside he felt like a first-class jerk. He felt guilty
for leaving it to Maddie to clean up this mess. He felt helpless, because
unless he was willing to hand over the Black Ghost, he couldn't do a damn thing
to protect her from the media. And he felt cheated. He felt cheated because
he'd realized Mad­die was the only woman he could ever love.

And how fair would it be to tell her that?

I'm
never falling in love, Maddie, but if I did, it would be with you?

No, just as she'd said herself, it was better
for both of them to leave things the way they were. Besides, what type of
future could he ever offer Maddie? He'd already spelled it out for her loud and
clear. Every time he took to the air he was risking his life. Maddie deserved
more out of life than being made a young widow. And any children they might
have together deserved to grow up with a father. Like it or not, he'd never
expect anyone else to suf­fer for the career choice he'd made.

Bittersweet as it might be, it would be best
for him simply to go back to his life. She'd go back to hers....

"In spite of everything, I'll always be
thankful I met you," she said, bringing Brad's eyes back to her lovely
face. "You've made me look inside my­self and realize being devoted to my
career doesn't mean I can't be a desirable woman, too."

What? That's
not what he wanted to hear! How was he going to wallow in his own self-pity,
slob­bering into his beer and longing for Maddie, if Mad­die was out kicking up
her heels and seeing how desirable she could be?

Her face took on a radiant glow when she
added, "In fact, this entire bizarre situation is probably the best thing
that could have ever happened to me."

"Well, I don't know if I'd go that
far," Brad grumbled.

"But don't you see?" she argued.
"My life was in a safe rut with only one focus. Now I've had the
opportunity to take a long look at myself. And do you know what I've
discovered?"

I have a feeling you 're going to tell me, whether
I want to hear it or not, Brad
thought with a frown.

"I've realized my entire life I've been
struggling to acquire my own identity. Aside from my twin, I mean. Since Mary
Beth was so feminine, I played down my femininity. Since Mary Beth didn't give
a flip about an education, I made it my mission in life to earn a Ph.D.
Since..."

Brad cut her off. "What are you saying,
Maddie? That you no longer care about your career?"

"Of course not," she said, looking
back at him as if he were crazy. "I'm just saying I realize I'm only
cheating myself if I continue to be so...well, you know, rigid. You've
been telling me yourself I need to lighten up."

A stab of hope forced him to ask,
"Meaning what? You've decided you really do want the hus­band, the kids, and the
career?''

Maddie laughed. "No. I still don't see a
husband and kids in my future, but I do plan to..."

"Good for you," Brad snapped,
cutting her off.

He sat there still stewing over everything
she had just told him. Not interested in being so rigid, she'd said. But also
not interested in a husband or kids. Just interested in...what? Wild sex with
the first stranger she met? Hanging out with that crazy sister of hers so she
could take her pick from a pack of bozos like that biker who had punched him in
the face?

His blood pressure shot up just thinking
about it.

And what was so wrong with being rigid? Hadn't
the rigid lifestyles they'd chosen for themselves been mainly responsible for
getting them both where they were in their careers today? Being rigid could be
a good thing.

Unfortunately Brad was reminded that rigid could
apply to more than one meaning when he glanced in Maddie's direction again and
took in her flawless profile. The desert wind lifted her silky hair away from
her face for a moment, turning the long strands into spun gold in the
early-morning light. Brad wanted her so badly it was all he could do to keep
from showing Miss I-don't-plan-to-be-so-rigid just how rigid he could
still be.

He was still struggling to get his emotions
above and below his waist under control when Maddie turned
toward him and asked, "Now what?"

Brad gripped the steering wheel and forced
him­self to look straight ahead. "Now, I'll make an anonymous call to the
police. I'll tell them I saw a woman matching your description on the main road
into town. After that, it should only be a matter of minutes until they charge
out here to the rescue."

"Sounds like an excellent strategy to
me," she said, and when Brad dared to look in her direction again, she
flashed him a smile that under different circumstances would have warmed his
very soul.

WHEN BRAD DIDN'T RETURN HER
SMILE, Maddie turned back around in her seat. The highway leading into Roswell
was only a few yards away from where Brad had pulled the Humvee over on the
side of the road. It stretched out before her like a silver ribbon, leading her
back to her freedom and back to her specimens and her microscope. And leading
her away from the one bug Maddie had never expected to
encounter in the desert when she came to New Mexico: the infamous love bug that
had infected her with a serious case of hopeless desire.

Not that her love-bug virus was going to do
her any good. That was obvious. He'd seemed irritated with her from the moment
she'd made her soulful confession, though she wasn't sure why. She wasn't even
sure why she'd blurted out everything she'd been sorting in her mind over the
past two days. She certainly hadn't blurted them out to make him angry.
Actually it had been more of a desperate attempt on her part to let him know
maybe there was room for something more in her life than just her
career.

Not a full-time relationship, of course.
Neither of them had time for that. She just wanted him to know that someday, if
he did choose to look her up again and finish what they started, she certainly
wouldn't turn him away.

Of course, he'd made it clear he wasn't
really interested in what she had to say. He'd even cut her off before she'd
had time to finish her sentence. Be­fore she'd had time to say "but I do
plan to keep my options open if you ever find yourself in Geor­gia."

That's how she'd planned to leave things. On
a light, yet slightly flirtatious note. Not begging him to come find her, but
also not giving him any reason to think she wouldn't be receptive if he did
show up.

Fat chance of that happening, Maddie decided. She stole another quick glance in
his direction. He was sitting ramrod straight in the seat beside her, hands
clutching the steering wheel in a death-grip, and the shadow on his jaw even
more pronounced as the muscles in his face flexed back and forth. Anxious, she
suspected, to get rid of her as quickly as possible so he could race back to
his precious Black Ghost and make sure no one was lurking around the base ready
to climb over the fence.

Well, far be it from me to detain him any
longer! Vaulting herself out of the
jeep, Maddie sent him a brave smile and said, "I guess this is where we
say goodbye."

He searched her face with such intensity
Maddie stopped breathing for a second. "You take care of yourself, okay?
This should all be over in a few days, and..."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Maddie teased,
cutting him off when she snapped to attention and gave him a phony salute.

Laugh, dammit, Maddie kept praying. Don't make me turn and walk away from you with that
stony look on your face!

He did smile slightly, and then he reached
for something behind his seat. Seconds later, he was standing beside her,
holding the bottom half of a clear plastic bottle that had been cut in two. A
rubber band secured a piece of paper over the top. Several holes had been poked
in the makeshift lid.

"I stopped on the way back from Roswell
and tried to find your butterfly," he said, handing over his gift.

Maddie was so overcome, it took her a minute
to say, "You did that? For me?"

"Of course, I had no idea what I was
looking for," he admitted with a silly grin. "This was the only
butterfly I could find near the fence where I found you."

Maddie leaned forward and kissed him, and
when she did, Brad kissed her back, pulling her to him with so much force the
plastic bottle was almost crushed between them. When they finally broke apart,
he looked down at the bottle. "Not the right one, huh?"

Maddie shook her head. He had captured a
Mournful Duskywing, common to the area and iron­ically appropriate for the way
she was feeling at the moment. "It doesn't matter. The fact you would do
this for me is enough."

Removing the rubber band, Maddie returned the
delicate Duskywing back into the desert. They watched as the beautiful creature
flitted away, and when she found herself in Brad's arms for the last time,
Maddie was certain no two people had ever poured more emotion into one kiss. It
was, after all, a kiss they both knew meant goodbye.

Forever.

When the kiss was over, Maddie simply walked
away from her handsome captain and back to reality, making it a point not to
turn around so she wouldn't betray both of them by begging him to make her his
captive forever.

 




7

 

By the time Maddie reached the
next mile marker, the desert came alive with so much activity it looked as if a
bomb had exploded, scattering peo­ple in every direction. And the first person
out of the patrol car that came to a skidding stop in front of her was Mary
Beth, who almost knocked Maddie down when she threw her arms around her neck
and yelled loud enough to bring the camera crews run­ning. "Thank God, you're
alive!"

"Cut it out, Mary Beth," Maddie
warned against her twin's moist cheek. "Your acting debut is over.''

Unfortunately, by the time Maddie freed
herself from her twin, she was immediately seized by two concerned EMT's who
practically body-slammed her onto a stretcher. Maddie was still trying to fight
them off when they made a mad dash past a group of excited cameramen and headed
straight for a waiting ambulance. In the background, Maddie could still hear
Mary Beth gushing out excited thank-yous to everyone involved in the search.

"This isn't necessary," Maddie kept
yelling as she clung to the sides of the gurney for dear life.

Her protests fell on deaf ears.

She soon found herself shoved, gurney and
all, into the back of the ambulance. EMT number one disappeared to the front of
the mobile medical ve­hicle, while EMT number two vaulted himself into the back
with Maddie. And just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, Mary Beth
managed to hop aboard before the double doors slammed shut.

In an instant, the vehicle lurched forward
with its siren blaring full volume and with her conscientious rescuer hovering
above her, his little black doctor's bag clutched in his hand. When he pulled
out a hy­podermic the size of a knitting needle, Maddie sat straight up on the
gurney.

"There's no way you're sticking me with
that thing," she said, shrinking back from his out­stretched hand.

"Now, calm down, Dr. Morgan. I'm going
to start an IV, that's all."

"I said no," Maddie told him when
he reached for her arm. "I'm not unconscious. I'm totally co­herent. And I
have the right to refuse medical treat­ment. Now, get that thing away from
me."

When the EMT frowned, Mary Beth inched closer
to him and held on to his arm for support. They stood there, swaying back and
forth as the ambu­lance sped toward Roswell. For a moment, Maddie was afraid
Mary Beth was going to help him hold her down. But she leaned closer to the guy
and whis­pered loud enough for Maddie to hear, "Poor thing. My sister's
always been terrified of needles. Can't we wait until we get her to the
hospital? Maybe the doctor can give her a sedative before you start pok­ing her
with all kinds of sharp objects."

It didn't surprise Maddie when Mary Beth's
close proximity made the poor man forget all about his unruly patient. Why
wouldn't he forget about his patient? He was elbow-to-elbow with the Evershine Girl.
And from the way the sweat was popping out on his forehead now, Maddie
suspected all he was thinking about was Mary Beth's nude body on the back of
that damn black stallion.

Mary Beth sent a pitiful look back in
Maddie's direction. "Besides, we really don't know what my poor sister has
been through, now do we?"

Maddie could almost see the lightbulb
clicking on above the guy's head. "Oh, uh...you mean you think the aliens
might have already..."

"Shush," Mary Beth said drawing her
finger to her shiny, red lips. "Let's not upset her. Okay?"

When he nodded, Mary Beth began to escort him
away from Maddie and toward the front of the am­bulance. "I'll have a much
better chance of calming her down if we're alone. And the hospital is only
a few miles away. Will you do that for me? Will you let me try to calm her down
before we get her to the hospital?"

"I don't know. I'm supposed to..."

"Please?" Mary Beth begged.

Maddie almost gagged at the stupid grin that
im­mediately replaced his frown. "Okay," he finally said with an
"aw-shucks" expression. "But I'll be right up front in the cab.
I'm Dave. Just yell for Dave if you need me."

As soon as dumbstruck Dave left the back of
the ambulance, Mary Beth turned to Maddie and said, "See? What would you
ever do without me?"

"Your new friend Dave is going to be
starting an IV on you after I get through with you," Maddie
threatened.

Her comment didn't affect Mary Beth in the
least. She flopped down beside Maddie on the gurney. "What you should be
doing is thanking me. I thought it was rather brilliant of me to put
pressure on the Air Force so they would have to release you."

"Yeah, you're a real genius, Mary
Beth."

Mary Beth frowned. "Oh, stop playing the
victim, Maddie. We need to get our heads together before we make a statement to
the press. 1 don't know about you, but I'm ready to kick some serious mil­itary
butt. And I'm especially going to enjoy going for Captain Brad Hawkins's
jugular. You're not go­ing to believe the nerve of that jerk, Maddie,
why..."

Maddie flinched at the sound of Brad's name.
"We're doing no such thing, Mary Beth. All we're going to do is keep our
mouths shut. Is that clear?"

"Keep our mouths shut?" Mary Beth
cried. "Yeah, like that's a possibility. The police will want to question
you. The media will want some answers. The..."

"And the only thing I intend to say is
'no com­ment.' And that's final."

Mary Beth laughed. "No comment? The
entire state of New Mexico has been searching for you for two days, and you
expect to get away with no
com­ment?"

"And whose fault is that?" Maddie
said right back. "Did I make up the stupid alien abduction story? Was I
the one sobbing into my hands on na­tional TV one minute, and waving my shoe in
the air the next?"

"You saw that?"

"Yes, I saw it," Maddie seethed.
"I've had to sit by helplessly for the past two days while you made us
look like dumb and dumber on national TV. And now I'm going to put a stop to
it, Mary Beth. Once and for all!"

"But you have to tell them something,
Maddie," Mary Beth insisted. "Look at you," she added, let­ting
her gaze travel over Maddie in one sweeping glance. "You certainly don't
look like someone who's been lost in the desert for two days. Your clothes
aren't even dirty."

"Don't even get me started on my
clothes," Mad­die said, glaring at her own blouse and slacks her twin was
wearing. "From the way you've been dip­ping into my wardrobe, I probably don't
even have anything left to change into."

Mary Beth sent her a sheepish grin.
"Sorry. But my agent thought with all the national exposure I was getting,
I should tone down my clothing a bit."

"Oh, we're going to tone down more than
your clothing, Mary Beth, and that's a promise," Maddie vowed.

"But, Maddie," Mary Beth whined.
"If you don't blow the whistle on the Air Force, everyone really will
think you were carried off by aliens."

Maddie refused to answer.

"Please, Maddie, don't do this,"
Mary Beth pleaded. "Don't let the Air Force blackmail you. You were held
against your will by our own gov­ernment while they knew full well there was a
search party combing the desert for you. What's the real story here? Tell
me."

Maddie shook her head. "I can't. Someday
I'll tell you everything. But right now you're going to have to trust my
judgment."

"But what about all the interviews my
agent al­ready has lined up for both of us? What about..."

Maddie grabbed Mary Beth's arm and gave it a
hard shake. "Stop it! Your mediafest is over, Mary Beth. And that's final.
Understand?"

When Mary Beth refused to agree, Maddie shook
her arm again, forcing her twin to look at her. "I've never been more
serious than I am right now. If you value having me as your sister. If you love
me. If you want me in your life from this day forward, you'll do exactly as I
say."

Mary Beth's face turned ashen. "You mean
if I don't do as you say, you're threatening to disown me?"

"No, Mary Beth. I'm promising to
disown you if you insist on continuing this travesty at my ex­pense."

It was several seconds before Mary Beth said,
"Then I guess I'll keep my mouth shut. You already know I'd never choose
any career over my own sis­ter."

Maddie breathed out a long sigh of relief,
but her mind was already speeding forward to the incredible ordeal she'd have
to endure before she could com­fortably sink back into her safe, boring,
respectable Dr. Madeline Morgan kind of life. A life without renegade sisters
or drummed-up aliens. Without po­lice departments and rescue teams. Without
pushy reporters and nosey cameramen trying to scoop each other for the
astounding details of her mysterious disappearance. And sadly, without a
certain adorable Air Force Captain who had attempted to capture a Deva Skipper
because he knew how much finding one meant to her.

You gave him your word, Maddie reminded her­self when the ambulance came to
a stop. And if she was going to keep her word, she would have to face the
waiting public, offering nothing more than "no comment" to the myriad
of questions everyone was going to ask her from the local sheriff, to
eventually her own parents.

Pulling herself up from the gurney, Maddie
didn't wait for Mary Beth or for EMT Dave. She opened the back door of the
ambulance, hopped off the back of her unwanted chariot and started walking
toward the sea of people who were all staring in disbelief at her noticeably
unsunburned face.

 

SHE HAD KNOWN her return to
society wouldn't be easy, but nothing could have prepared Maddie for the media
onslaught the minute she stepped out of the ambulance. Not that there hadn't
been other hungry sharks in the water, as well. Maddie had been poked and
prodded at the emergency room un­til one doctor finally took pity on her and
pro­nounced her fit as a fiddle. Then she had been spir­ited away by a surly
sheriff, who had interrogated her for hours, only to become so outraged by her
refusal to give him any information that he'd assured Maddie she would be
receiving a hefty bill for the expenses his county had suffered conducting a
false search and rescue mission in her behalf.

She shook her head. As if she could ever pay
back that kind of money on a measly professor's salary! That is, if she even
still had a faculty position when she got back to McCray-Hadley.

And then, of course, there'd been the urgent
call from her parents, with her mother crying hysterically and her father
demanding to know what in the hell was going on. Now, she was traveling
incognito, wearing dark glasses and with a stupid scarf tied around her head,
sitting in the first-class section of a plane only minutes away from landing in
Atlanta.

Her parents would be waiting at the airport to
drive her home. It briefly crossed Maddie's mind that she almost preferred the
media hounds to the thought of facing them alone.

Mary Beth, her escape artist twin, was now
headed happily back to Los Angeles to make the most of her brief stint in the
spotlight. Although Maddie did have to give her sister credit for finally throwing
the press off her track. By leaking infor­mation that a limousine would be
taking both of them to L.A. to meet with Mary Beth's agent, Mad­die had been
able to leave Roswell without being detected. Maddie could picture the long
convoy of news crews that were most likely in hot pursuit of Mary Beth's limo
now, while her dear sister lounged comfortably in the privacy of the dark
tinted win­dows, quietly sipping champagne and congratulating herself for her
brilliance.

Hurrying from her seat the second the plane
landed, Maddie found her parents waiting in stony silence as she entered the
terminal. She hadn't ex­pected them to be overjoyed to see her under the
circumstances, but she honestly hadn't seen them this angry with her since her
spider collection got loose when she was ten and her parents had to have the
entire house fumigated.

Her father, big hulk of a man that he was,
dwarfed both her and her mother, who was still as slim and trim as her twin
daughters. "Let's get out of here as fast as possible," he ordered,
and they miracu­lously made it through the crowded terminal without being
noticed.

Once safe inside her father's sedan, Maddie
leaned her head against the back seat and closed her eyes, thankful that in a
little over an hour she would finally be home. Home to her own three rooms on
the third floor of a rambling old house that had been turned into apartments
within walking distance of the college. One of the reasons Maddie had never
seen the necessity to spring for the expense of her own car. The other reason
being that in addition to his honorary position as town mayor, her father had
the only reputable automobile dealership in town. A fleet of cars had always
been at Maddie's disposal any time she felt the urge to drive one.

"I still can't fathom you being involved
in any­thing that would jeopardize your career, Madeline," her mother
spoke up from the front seat of the car.

Maddie didn't even bother opening her eyes.

"You might as well stop harassing her,
Helen," said her father. "She's already told you she has nothing to
say."

Thank you, Pop, Maddie thought until George Morgan added, "But
I agree with you, dear. I've learned to expect just about anything from Mary
Beth. But never in a million years would I have expected our sensible daughter
to go along with that harebrained publicity stunt Mary Beth just pulled."

Whatever, Maddie thought, tempted to remind them she was a
grown woman, not some little kid they could shame into ęfessing up to all of
her sins. She was also tempted to remind them, especially her mother, that for
most of her life she'd been encour­aged to be more like
her twin sister. "Get out and have a little fun," they always said.
"Stop taking life so seriously," her mother always told her.

Maddie briefly wondered how her mother would
react if she knew her sensible
daughter had actually slept handcuffed to a
total stranger.

Don't even go there.

In fact, she didn't want to think about Brad
at all. And she definitely couldn't afford any more fanta­sizing. Her father
had already told her that her boss, Dr. Fielding, had been ringing the phone
off the hook, demanding to meet with her the minute she arrived back home.

Like that wasn't a given.

But if the old toad, as Mary Beth called him,
thought he was going to push her around, he was in for a big surprise. Because
naive, reserved little Maddie Morgan wasn't so naive and reserved any­more.
She'd been accosted by more people in the past two days than Dr. Fielding would
probably meet in his lifetime. If he tried to give her a hard time, he'd find
out real quick she had learned to stand her ground with better men than he.
Imagining Dr. Fielding lying facedown in the dirt wearing the biker's jacket,
with her standing above him massag­ing her swollen right hand made Maddie laugh
out loud.

"Care to let us in
on what's so funny?" her mother said in her I'm-extremely-upset-with-you
voice.

Maddie only laughed harder, prompting her
mother to reach over the seat and swat her no-longer sensible daughter rather
forcefully on the knee.

MUCH TO HER DISMAY, Maddie soon
found she was more naive than she thought. Instead of finding ref­uge in her
own home town, Maddie was the victim of a surprise attack the minute she set
foot on the McCray-Hadley campus. News crews and camera­men were everywhere,
and leading the chase was none other than Arnold Purdy, editor of Morgan City's
own newspaper and former classmate of Maddie and Mary Beth.

"Madeline. Wait up," Arnold called
out when Maddie hurried on her way to the administration building.

Unfortunately, ignoring the little worm was
point­less. When he kept snapping closely at her heels, Maddie stopped and
faced the menace long enough to say, "I have nothing to say to you,
Arnold. Now please leave the campus before I call security."

Her threat didn't work. "Give me a
break, Ma­deline." He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure the
cameras were running. "It's me. Arnold Purdy. We've been friends for
years. You can tell me the truth."

"Go away, Arnold," Maddie warned,
wondering how being Nerdy Purdy's lab partner in tenth grade science class
suddenly qualified them as lifelong friends.

"I'll go away if you tell me what really
happened out in Roswell," he said, flashing a grin that verified he still
had a space the size of her thumb between his two front teeth.

Maddie was on the verge of punching him in
the mouth and seeing if she couldn't bring those two front teeth closer
together, until she glanced up at the second floor window in the administration
build­ing. When she saw her boss glaring down at her with his hands at his
waist, all Maddie could think to do was run.

"She's getting away," Arnold yelled
to his en­tourage who quickly took up the chase.

"Tell us about the aliens," someone
behind her called out.

"Are you really going to stop teaching
and be­come an actress like your sister?" someone else yelled.

Maddie never looked back. She could hear the
heavy breathing coming from the mob that was run­ning right behind her. And she
was only seconds away from being completely overtaken when two campus security
officers rushed from the adminis­tration building and motioned the crowd back
and away from the steps.

"You can't hide in there forever, Madam
Butter­fly," Arnold yelled after her, but Maddie sprinted up the steps and
headed down the hallway, finally ducking into the safety of Dr. Fielding's own
private office.

Unfortunately, leaning with her back against
the door and panting like a scared rabbit being chased by a pack of wild dogs
was not the entrance the new and enlightened Dr. Madeline Morgan intended to
make. Before she could even catch her breath, Dr. Fielding slammed down the
phone he had obviously used to call the campus security police, then glared
back at her over the top of his wire-rimmed reading classes.

"Well?" toad face croaked with
disdain. "What do you have to say for yourself, Dr. Morgan? Have you come
to turn in your resignation so you can pursue an acting career? Or did you stop
by to pro­pose that you head up a new department on the study of
extraterrestrial beings?"

"Neither," Maddie tried to assure
him, but he quickly cut her off.

"And to think I was under the impression
you were serious about your career here."

"I am serious
about my career, Dr. Fielding," Maddie spoke up in her own defense.

He scowled in her direction. "Well, you
obvi­ously weren't thinking about your career when you decided to go along with
your sister's outrageous publicity stunt."

Thank God, Maddie thought. At least Dr. Fielding was accepting
her father's only explanation for her disastrous desert adventure. With the way
the media had been playing up her alien abduction, Maddie feared her boss might
demand a report on the infor­mation she'd been able to pump from the little
green men about the various insect life on the planet Mars.

"I'm truly sorry, Dr. Fielding,"
Maddie began. "All I can say is that there's been a huge misun­derstanding,
and..."

His bushy eyebrows came together forming a
fuzzy gray line across his forehead. "Then I suggest you find a way to put
an end to your huge misun­derstanding, Dr. Morgan. And I also suggest you take
a leave of absence for the next two weeks. The entire college can't be left in
turmoil while the me­dia plays hide-and-seek with you around campus."

"But...but, s-sir," Maddie
stammered. "The fall term starts next week."

"Exactly," he said, still looking
at her over the top of his glasses. "The fall term does start next week.
And any disruption whatsoever simply cannot and will not be tolerated. Do I
make myself clear?"

Defeated, Maddie nodded. Even she had to
agree with his position. Orientation for the new freshman class would be in
full swing and parents galore would be milling through the campus during visi­tation
week. She had almost been trampled to death herself by the media herd that had
just stampeded across the McCray-Hadley commons. Having par­ents worried about
the students' safety couldn't be tolerated.

"And my classes?" Maddie was brave
enough to ask.

He hesitated for a moment, rocking back and
forth on the worn heels of his scuffed penny loafers, the way Maddie had seen
him do numerous times when he was struggling to make a difficult decision.
"The best I can do is make arrangements to have your classes delayed for
the next two weeks, Dr. Morgan. But if this ridiculous drama continues any
longer, I'll have no choice but to find a substitute to take over your classes
for the remainder of the semes­ter."

"I understand your position, Dr.
Fielding."

"Good," he said. "Then I
suggest you begin your leave of absence immediately. Do so before those
hooligans with the cameras burn down the admin­istration building in order to
get their story."

"Thank you, Dr. Fielding. For giving me
a chance to straighten this mess out. And for holding my faculty position for
at least the next two weeks."

"Let's put it this way. If
your love affair with the media is over at the end of two weeks. And if you
haven't been spirited off by aliens to Jupiter or Mars again, you'll still have
your faculty position here at McCray-Hadley."

And with that said, he promptly dismissed Mad­die
with a wave of his hand, leaving her no choice but to again face Nerdy Purdy
and his media vigi­lantes who were still waiting when she stepped back out into
the bright morning sunlight.

 

WHEN THE CABIN CAME INTO VIEW, childhood mem­ories of a happier time flooded
Maddie's mind. She smiled. Taking her father's advice and hiding out in the
mountains for the next two weeks had been the right thing to do.

Though her parents still spent a good deal of
time at their home-away-from-home, Maddie hadn't been to the cabin in years.
Surprisingly, she found nothing much had changed. Other than a new flower bed
her mother had added along the flagstone walkway, the old two-story cabin with
its rustic cedar siding still looked as enchanting as Maddie remembered. She
suddenly wondered why she didn't spend more time there.

Turning off the ignition, Maddie hopped out
of the new Explorer she had borrowed from her fa­ther's car lot and took a
leisurely stretch. She then opened the back passenger-side door and retrieved
her suitcase. Everything else she needed for her two-week stay was already
there. There would be plenty of staples in the pantry and plenty of meat in the
big freezer in the basement. And rather than argue with her father, she had
even brought along her mother's cell phone, since a cell phone was another
luxury Maddie had never found necessary.

Sadly, because she really didn't have anyone
to call.

As she grabbed the cell phone and her
briefcase from the front seat, a wistful tug pulled at Maddie's heart. If only
Brad had given her a number where she could have reached him, she would have
some­one to call now.

Of course, he hadn't given her his number.
Nor had she jotted down any information for him. And why would they exchange
numbers? It wasn't as if they were dating, for God's sake. And keeping in touch
had certainly never popped up in any of their conversations.

"If only things were different."

Isn't that how Brad had phrased his
statement?

So, forget about him, Maddie told herself as she opened the cabin door
and let herself inside. She had much more to worry about than Brad Hawkins, she
reminded herself as she placed her things on the overstuffed sofa facing the
fireplace. Her career was on the line. And thanks to Dr. Fielding's order to
take two weeks off, she would now be behind when she did start her fall
classes.

Of course, the old toad had also given her an
ex­cellent opportunity, whether he realized it or not. Rather than have him
yawn over the planned outline of her classes as he'd done last semester, she
now had two distraction-free weeks to revamp her class curriculum so
thoroughly, even her esteemed boss would have no doubt that she was serious
about her career.

And that's exactly what she was going to do.
She was going to lose herself in her work. She was going to focus on a revised
outline for her fall classes. And she wasn't going to spend another second even
thinking about Hawk. Especially not the way his hot mouth had traveled over her
body, driving her crazy. Or the power he had to render her senseless the sec­ond
he took her in his arms.

No, she wasn't going to think about that.

She wasn't going to think about that
mischievous twinkle in his eye when he was teasing her, either. Or how natural
it had felt to have his body pressed against her own the night they slept
handcuffed to­gether. And she certainly wasn't going to spend any more time
thinking about how difficult it must have been for him growing up without a
father, or how devastated he must have been when his mother died, too. She also
wasn't going to think about how com­pletely she could identify with his inner
determina­tion to set a goal for himself and stick to it. Because in that
respect, they were exactly alike. Just like Hawk, she was determined to stay
completely fo­cused on her career.

Which was why she wasn't going to spend an­other
second thinking about him.

She wasn't going to think about how good he
tasted, and how wonderful he smelled, or how ter­rific he looked. Nor was she
going to think about the way the sound of his voice could get danger­ously
husky, or the way the touch of his hand made her skin prickle with excitement.
She wasn't going to think about his thoughtfulness, either, in trying to find a
butterfly to replace the one his own flying machine had caused her to lose. And
she especially wasn't going to think about how perfect it would be to make love
to him in front of the fire she would build later in the evening when it came
time to stave off the cool, night mountain air.

No, she definitely wasn't going think about
that.

Or the cute way Brad cocked his head at a
certain angle every time he looked in her direction.

Or...

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm in love with the guy.
Admit it.

And when she couldn't bring herself to admit
any such nonsense, Maddie stomped upstairs to put away her things, hoping the
distraction would allow her to lie to herself at least a little while longer.




8

 

After Maddie had built the fire she wasn't going to think about making
love to Brad in front of that evening, she put in a call to her parents to
assure them everything was fine. She had just closed the bottom half of the
palm-size device when Mary Beth rang through, bubbling with excitement because
she had an audition for a leading role in a hot new day­time soap opera.

As soon as Mary Beth asked, Maddie admitted
her own good news: that she hadn't been fired on the spot.

"See? What did I tell you?" Mary
Beth said. "Even an old grump like Fielding realizes what an asset you are
to his department."

Mary Beth rambled on for a few more minutes,
but before she hung up, she added with a giggle, "Just promise me you
won't get attached to Nerdy Purdy now that you're spending so much time to­gether,
Maddie. There's no way I could ever tolerate having Nerdy Purdy for a
brother-in-law."

Maddie laughed for the first time in days,
but after she and her twin said their goodbyes, Maddie was tempted to call Mary
Beth back and ask what choice she would make between Nerdy Purdy and the man
she had threatened to hit over the head with her shoe. She was still smiling to
herself over the choice words Mary Beth would have for candidate number two,
when a distinct squeak turned her head in the direction of the cabin's front
door. The second step leading up to the cabin's front porch had always squeaked
"loud enough to wake the dead" accord­ing to her mother, yet for some
reason her father had never found the time to fix it.

"Damn you, Arnold," Maddie mumbled
under her breath, certain the little worm had followed her to the cabin still
hoping for an exclusive interview.

She launched herself off the sofa,
unconcerned that she was wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of shortie pajamas
Mary Beth had given her for Christ­mas last year. Grabbing the poker from its
stand by the fire place, she stomped across the room, flipped on the porch
light, opened the door and stepped out on the porch.

Wielding the poker like a power-hitter for
the New York Yankees, Maddie yelled into the dark­ness, "I'm tired of
this, Arnold. Do you hear me? You're on private property and I will have
you ar­rested."

When her intruder stepped out of the shadows
at the end of the porch, however, Maddie lowered the poker.

"Who's Arnold?"

For a second, Maddie thought she was only fan­tasizing
again. But when the step squeaked a second time as Brad made his way up the
steps and onto the porch, Maddie almost screamed like an excited five-year-old
on Christmas morning.

And dear God, but he did look fabulous in
street clothes. Faded jeans tight enough to make her mouth water and a pale
yellow polo shirt that made his tan look two shades darker than it was. Oh, yeah. The
only way he could look any better was if he was stretched out naked on her bed
upstairs.

All Maddie could do was stand there and
stare.

When he took a step closer, Maddie asked,
"How on earth did you find me?"

He sent her the same cocky grin she
remembered. "With today's technology I could locate a postage stamp on the
sidewalk in Moscow if I wanted to, Maddie dear. Finding you was a piece of
cake."

Her eyes dropped to the duffel bag he held in
his hand. "And is that what you have stashed away in your bag, Captain? A
piece of cake?"

"Why don't you invite me inside and I'll
show you?"

Maddie hesitated only for a second, then
lowered the poker and leaned it against the porch banister. He followed her
inside, and when she closed the door behind him he took a long look around the
room.

"Great cabin," he said, and Maddie
watched his gaze drift toward the fire in the fireplace before he placed his
bag on the bar that separated the small kitchen from the great room.

When he unzipped the bag and pulled out her
pith helmet, Maddie laughed.

And Mary Beth claimed you couldnłt reel a man in
with a pith helmet!

She still hadn't explained who
Arnold was, but Brad had already forgotten the question. The only thing on his
mind at the moment was the perfect body hidden beneath two pieces of fabric
that might as well have been made of cellophane.

"You forgot this," he said handing
her the hel­met, wondering at the same time what his chances were of getting
her out of that cellophane.

"You could have mailed it," she
answered.

"I could have. But I also wanted to tell
you in person that you didn't have to worry about owing anything to the state
of New Mexico. Those ex­penses will be taken care of quickly and quietly be­hind
the scenes."

"Hush money, I think they call it,"
she suggested.

"A small token of appreciation for
keeping the Black Ghost a secret," Brad countered.

"Anything else?"

Brad stalled for a second. "I'm being
sent out of the country on a training assignment, Maddie. And..."

"And?"

"Damn, you're making this hard,"
Brad mut­tered, running a hand through his short dark hair. "What I'm
trying to say is that I couldn't leave the country without..."

She closed the distance between them so fast,
Brad didn't even have time to finish his sentence. And when his mouth found
hers, Brad's mind went blank and he lost all sense of reason.

He wasn't even aware she had led him across
the room until she pushed him backward over the back of the sofa. And when she
landed on top of him, she kissed him again before she said, "Okay, Cap­tain.
I'm taking you prisoner this time. We can do this easy, or"
Brad moaned when her hand slid down the front of his pants "or we can do this
the hard way. It's your choice."

Reversing their positions, Brad pinned Maddie
beneath him instead. "I think you just made that choice for me, didn't
you."

Brad knew the time for playful teasing was
over, he could tell from the hungry look she gave him before she pulled his
head down and kissed him so thoroughly the thrill turned him inside out and up­side
down all at once. And when their feverish kisses reached even a higher level,
nothing short of an atomic explosion could have forced them apart.

How they ended up naked and on the floor,
Brad wasn't certain, but the sight of Maddie's nude body and her hair shining
like glitter in the firelight, was almost more than he could stand. This was
one time, however, he had no intention of giving in to his own selfish needs
first.

"I told you once that pleasure was my
game," Brad whispered, delivering a series of tiny kisses along her neck
that made her gasp. "I think it's time I showed you what I meant."

Maddie was afraid to open her
eyes. Afraid if she did, she would find she had only been dreaming. But when a
strong arm slid around her waist and pulled her closer, she smiled. They were
still lying on the braided rug in front of the fireplace, covered with a throw
from the sofa, but the fire had burned down only to a flicker. She wasn't sure
what time it was, but judging from the number of hours they'd spent making
love, Maddie knew dawn couldn't be far away.

Talk about a pleasure marathon!

She still wasn't sure how she was going to
get the maple syrup Brad had found in the kitchen cab­inet out of her mother's
braided rug, but she'd never be able to look Aunt Jemima in the face again with­out
blushing from head to toe. She also knew she'd never have to hear the word satiated
again and not fully understand exactly what it meant.

Of course, staying satiated
was a different matter altogether. And with that thought in mind, Maddie rolled
over with the intention of waking the hand­some hunk sleeping beside her to
request a refresher course on the subject of pleasure. She never got the
chance. The alarm on his wristwatch beat her to the punch.

He sat up and silenced the alarm, then shook
his head as if to clear it. "I didn't mean to doze off," he said,
sending her a sleepy grin.

Maddie sat up, too, trying to cover herself
with her portion of the throw. When his gaze fell to her partially exposed
breasts, she said, "There's a fab­ulous feather bed upstairs that is much
more com­fortable than this hard wooden floor."

He might as well have slapped her when he
reached for his jeans and said, "That sounds great, but I'm really pressed
for time."

Pressed for time? Maddie felt like screaming.

Is that why he had turned her every which way
but loose from the moment he arrived? Because he was pressed for time?

He stood up and turned his back to her while
he pulled on his jeans, giving her a perfect view of the naked rear she
personally felt like kicking. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of knowing
she was even angry, she stood up herself and wrapped the throw around her body
like a tight-fitting cocoon. No way was she going to flounce around naked or in
her sexy pjs while he gathered up his possessions to leave.

She decided to go upstairs, get fully
dressed, and pray to God he'd already be gone when she came back down. And what
she wasn't going to do is let him know she'd been stupid
enough to believe his surprise appearance was anything more than just a
one-night stand. Well, a half-night stand, if you re­ally wanted to be
technical about it.

The sun hadn't even reached the horizon yet,
for God's sake!

How she could have been so stupid was beyond
her. Yet, when she thought about it, what did she really expect? She had
attacked him almost the sec­ond he stepped inside the door, which only
increased Maddie's angst further remembering how she had practically
body-slammed him onto the sofa and rammed her hand down his pants. God, how humil­iating!

Not that he'd tried to fight her off, she
reasoned. No, he had been more than willing to take her off on that pleasure
cruise he was so anxious to show her. Well, she could be just as nonchalant as
he was being. They'd had hot, uninhibited, mind-blowing sex. Nothing more,
nothing less. And as soon as she accepted that fact, the better off she'd be.

When she reached the stairs, she prayed she
looked cooler than she felt. She turned back to him and smiled. "There's a
bathroom down the hall to the right, Brad, and you'll find clean towels under
the sink. I'm sure you could use some coffee before you go. I'll get dressed
and make a pot."

I've
just been dismissed! Brad thought angrily when Maddie bounded up the
stairs as happy as a lark.

He'd expected her to at least ask where he was
going and how long he might be gone. He'd even been foolish enough to think
they would keep in touch. Call each other, write, e-mail, whatever. This day
and age global communication was as common as a bad cold.

But instead, she'd let him make love to her
for hours on end, and now she was through with him and ready for him to be on
his way.

Checking his watch again, Brad decided Madam
Butterfly wasn't the correct nickname for Maddie, at all. Madam Praying Mantis
fit her much better. Wasn't that the female insect that always bit the male's
head off after they mated?

Grabbing his duffel bag from the kitchen bar,
Brad stomped off down the hallway in search of the downstairs bath, wondering
what had happened to her previous declaration that she wanted more out of life
than just her damn career. He'd done his own amount of soul searching after
he'd watched her walk away that morning, and he'd come to the con­clusion that
he didn't have much of a life without Maddie in it. Not that the feeling was
mutual, ob­viously. She was physically attracted to him, sure, he'd received
that message loud and clear. But to not even care where he was going or when
he'd be back?

Damn, that hurt.

"Suck it up and get over it," Brad
mumbled to himself as he stepped into the shower. Isn't that what he'd always
done? He was tough and he could take it. They'd been attracted to each other
and they'd acted on it. Nothing more, nothing less. At least maybe now he could
purge her from his system.

Ten minutes later, Maddie only confirmed
every­thing Brad had been thinking when he emerged from the bathroom and found
her waiting for him with his coffee in a plastic cup to go.

"I assumed you would want to take your
coffee with you, since you're so pressed for time," she said in a voice sweeter
than the maple syrup he'd drib­bled over her body only a few hours earlier.

Ah, so that's the problem, Brad finally realized. He was slow. He'd admit it.
At least when it came to understanding how in the hell a woman's mind worked.
Evidently pressed for time was listed some­where in the Woman's Guide for What Men Aren't Supposed to Say. How he was supposed to know that, Brad didn't have
a clue, but it proved one vital point he'd known all along.

Personal relationships took too damn much out
of a man!

Reaching out, Brad accepted the cup and
drained it completely in two easy gulps. The fact that the coffee was hot
enough to make his eyes water couldn't compare with the heat steadily rising
under his collar. "Thanks," he said, as he plopped the empty cup down
on the bar.

"You, too," she said with a
taunting little smile.

Brad clenched the strap on his duffel bag so
tightly, he was surprised it didn't break in two. He'd practically moved heaven
and earth to get a forty-eight-hour furlough because he didn't want to leave the
country without seeing Maddie first. He'd had to change planes twice, rent a
car in Atlanta for the drive to Morgan City, only to learn from the buzz at the
Morgan City Cafe that Maddie was still an­other hour away hiding out in the
northeast Georgia mountains. Now, he would have to retrace every one of those
steps, and yes, he was pressed for time.

But rather than admit any of this to the
woman who had stolen his heart, Brad leaned forward and gave her a quick peck
on the cheek. "Take care of yourself," he told her, and walked out
the door while he still had the courage to leave.

 

By the end of her two-week hiatus
at the cabin, the media and Nerdy Purdy had lost interest in Madam Butterfly,
and had promptly crossed Maddie off as yesterday's news. When she returned to
McCray-Hadley, she'd been surprised to learn that all her fall classes had been
filled to capacity, though Maddie suspected some of the students had signed up
mainly out of curiosity about her. Only two days earlier, she had even received
the astonishing news that she had been chosen for Dr. Fielding's esteemed
research team, which had been her main goal in life when she had gone in search
of the Deva Skipper to prove herself worthy of such an appointment.

So why am I so damn miserable? Maddie kept asking herself.

Two words sprang to mind.

Brad Hawkins.

She hadn't heard a word from him since he
left the cabin that morning, though it didn't really sur­prise Maddie that he
hadn't tried to get in touch with her again. Why would he? After she'd had time
to think about her actions, even she had to agree she'd been a real pain in the
ass, which evidently was normal for her, at least when it came to dealing
with him.

As the weeks slipped by, she'd thought of
trying to contact him instead, but Maddie knew she couldn't take that risk. The
Black Ghost-alien ab­duction saga had finally been put to rest. If she called
around trying to find him, there was always the possibility someone would link
her name with his and bring the whole ugly story to the surface again.

But a day didn't go by that Maddie didn't
wonder where Brad was and pray for his safety. And a day didn't go by that she
also didn't curse herself for being too stubborn to ask for any details about
where he was going. Of course, he was pretty stub­born himself. Not to mention
he'd been too irritated with her to offer any information before he left. And
that's why it was probably better that they had parted like they did, Maddie
kept telling herself. They were two control freaks. Neither would ever be
willing to hand over control to the other. In a nutshell, theirs was a
relationship doomed before it really began.

C'est la vie, Maddie thought sadly when the an­nouncement came
over the loudspeaker that her twin's plane had landed.

"Well, don't you look fat and
sassy!" were Mary Beth's first words when she bounced into the Atlanta
terminal.

"Happy Thanksgiving to you, too,"
Maddie grumbled, but she didn't pull away from the big hug her twin sister gave
her.

Mary Beth stepped back and looked Maddie up
and down. "I'm not kidding, Maddie. I don't think I've ever seen you
looking so lovely. You're almost glowing."

Maddie rolled her eyes. When they linked arms
for a stroll to the baggage claim area, however, Maddie did briefly finger the
strained button at the waistband of her favorite wool slacks. Leave it to her
twin to notice she had put on a measly five pounds.

"Did you do that little piece of
detective work I asked you to do for me?" Mary Beth wanted to know.

"Don't worry, Mary Beth. I got the
information straight from his aunt. Zack is not coming
home for Thanksgiving."

"Good," Mary Beth said.
"Because the next time my ex-fiancé sees me, I'll be on CBS in the lead
female role on The Wild and the
Free.''

"You mean you got the part!" Maddie
ex­claimed.

"Damn straight," Mary Beth beamed.
"From here on out, you can call me Fancy Kildare. And I'm going to be the
hottest femme fatale on daytime TV."

"Congratulations, Mary Beth,"
Maddie said, try­ing to muster up as much enthusiasm as possible.

Mary Beth wasn't fooled. "I know you
think I'm only pursuing this acting career to spite Zack," Mary Beth said,
reading Maddie's mind. "But I re­ally want this, Maddie. And I need it.
Just for me."

Maddie squeezed her hand. "Then I'm
happy for you, Mary Beth. I know you'll knock their socks off."

"And how about you? Any hunky new
professors on the faculty at McCray-Hell-hole this year?"

Maddie laughed. "Not this year."

"Then plan on spending Christmas out in L.A.
with me. I'm going to be the new toast of the town. Our men-meeting
possibilities will be limitless."

Maddie tensed. The last thing she wanted was
to meet anyone. She'd be lucky if she ever recovered from her brief encounter
with the man she had met. "I'm sorry, Mary Beth, don't count on me for
Christmas." Maddie wanted to put an end to that invitation before Mary
Beth started making any plans. "Dr. Fielding finally asked me to join his
research team."

"I knew you'd never get a life if you
made that damn research team," Mary Beth complained as she tugged her
luggage from the revolving conveyor belt.

Maddie took one of the bags when Mary Beth
handed it over. "You need to stop worrying about me, Mary Beth. I've told
you a million times, I'm perfectly satisfied with my life just the way it
is."

The inside of a toilet bowl, Maddie decided, had to be one of life's most
disgusting places. But it didn't stop her from bending forward again to revisit
the revolting location early the next morning. "Are you okay?"

Maddie glanced briefly at Mary Beth, who had
stumbled to the bathroom door, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Too much
turkey and dressing," Maddie managed to say, waving Mary Beth away from
the door.

"Well, if I didn't know it was impossible, I'd think
you were pregnant," Mary Beth said with a yawn. She walked over and took a
washcloth from beneath the vanity, wet it and handed it to Maddie before she
disappeared back into the bedroom. Pregnant?
Oh, God.

Just the sound of the word made Maddie pay homage
to the porcelain god again. But like Mary Beth had said, it simply wasn't
possible. She and Brad had been so careful. Maybe they had gone
through an entire box of condoms, but they'd never had unprotected sex. Never.
Just because they couldn't get along, didn't mean they were stupid!

She hadn't even had any symptoms. Not really.
Sure, maybe she had gained a few measly pounds, but she always indulged
herself when she was de­pressed. Those buckets of Rocky Road ice cream she'd
been wolfing down while she pined away for Brad could easily explain the weight
gain.

Running the damp cloth over her face, Maddie
tried to remember when she'd had her last period. She couldn't. But that was
even normal for her. Her periods had never been regular. She'd always skipped a
month here and there and never worried about it. That was because you never had anything to worry
about before, you idiot! Maddie
thought in a panic and promptly dunked her head in the toilet bowl again.

It took another thirty minutes before the
nausea finally subsided. When it did, Maddie pulled herself up from the floor,
brushed her teeth and took a shower. She then tiptoed into the bedroom she'd
shared with Mary Beth most of their lives. Staying with their parents over the
holidays had always been a family tradition, and one Maddie had actually been
grateful for this year. The thought of sitting alone in her apartment all
weekend staring at a phone that wasn't going to ring had not been that
appealing.

She managed to get dressed without waking
Mary Beth again, then slipped downstairs and helped her­self to her father's
car keys. Minutes later she was driving like a madwoman through the heavy
traffic that plagued even small-town Morgan City on the busiest shopping day of
the holiday season. The sec­ond she reached Morgan City's mini-mall on the out­skirts
of town, Maddie zoomed into a parking spot ahead of a Volkswagen, ignoring the
loud blast from the irritated shopper's horn. She then marched into the
pharmacy, returning only minutes later with the little kit that would finally
put her mind at ease.

Tearing out of the parking lot with the same
ur­gency that had brought her to the mall in the first place, Maddie didn't
have the slightest clue she'd stolen the parking spot right out from under an
old friend of hers. Nor did she realize Nerdy Purdy was heading straight for
the pharmacy as Maddie roared away, determined to find out exactly what had
Madam Butterfly in such a full-blown tizzy on the day after Thanksgiving.

A few hours later, Mary Beth found Maddie sit­ting on the living room
floor of her apartment, star­ing at the little circle with the plus sign in the
mid­dle.

"My God, Maddie. You scared us to death
run­ning off like that," Mary Beth started ranting until she noticed the
plastic stick Maddie was holding in her hand.

In one quick swoop, Mary Beth grabbed it from
Maddie's hand and stared at it in disbelief. "Please tell me this is some
new type of IQ test."

"It's an IQ test, all right,"
Maddie assured her twin. "And my IQ just came back negative. The plus sign in the
circle proves it!"

When Maddie burst into tears, Mary Beth
dropped to the floor and let Maddie cry on her shoulder. "Oh, Maddie, you
poor little thing. Who did this awful thing to you?"

"I just can't understand it,"
Maddie sobbed, pushing away from her sister long enough to wipe away the tears
with her fingertips. "We were so careful."

"We?" Mary Beth bellowed.

"Well, you don't think I got pregnant
all by my­self, do you?" Maddie cried back.

"Then who was it?" Mary Beth
demanded. "Tell me, Maddie. Tell me and I'll personally..."

"Hit him over the head with your
shoe?"

Mary Beth's mouth dropped open. "You've
got to be kidding me! So, that's what was going on out at that Air Force base
when you couldn't tear your­self away."

"It didn't even happen at the
base," Maddie sobbed. "Brad followed me to the cabin when I was
hiding from the media."

"Why, that no-good jerk!"

Maddie bristled. "Brad isn't a no-good
jerk, Mary Beth. I love him."

"Love him? Are you nuts? You only just
met him!"

"You don't have to know someone your
entire life like you and Zack did to fall in love," Maddie insisted, then
immediately burst into tears again. "I just can't understand it," she
kept saying between sobs. "We used protection every time."

"Every time?"

"Well, yes. I admit we got a little
carried away that one time with the maple syrup, but..."

"Maple syrup?"

"But that was one of my pleasure
moments."

"Pleasure moments?"

"Brad didn't even...you know..."

"Climax?"

Maddie nodded. "Brad's wonderful like
that, Mary Beth. He was adamant about putting my plea­sure first, and..."

"Whoa, this is way too much
information!"

Maddie blushed. "I know condoms aren't
always one hundred percent effective. Maybe the syrup"

"You idiot," Mary Beth yelled,
shaking her head.

"There's no need to shout," Maddie
said, looking up at her twin who was now pacing around the room.

"I just can't believe this. And you're
the one with the freaking Ph.D!"

Maddie ignored her and let out a long sigh.
"What in the world am I going to do, Mary Beth?''

Mary Beth frowned. "You're not thinking
about..."

Maddie shook her head. "No. Of course
not."

"Would you really marry this guy?"

"Marry him?" Maddie wailed. "I
don't even know how to find him."

Mary Beth's eyes narrowed. "So, he
pulled a hit-and-run on you, didn't he?"

"Not really. Maybe. Oh, I don't
know," Maddie cried. "He had to leave and I got angry. Then he got
angry because I was angry, and..."

"Well, if you think he was angry
then," Mary Beth said with a snort, "wait until he finds out"

Maddie cut her off. "But he isn't going
to find out. I'd never try to trap Brad into..."

"Are you nuts?" Mary Beth
screeched. "When news gets out that Madam Butterfly's pregnant only three
months after she was carried off by aliens, the whole world is going to be
talking about this baby you're carrying."

Maddie paled. "Don't even talk like
that, Mary Beth."

And before Mary Beth could answer, Maddie
made a mad dash to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth.

Brad purposely ignored
the pretty blonde Fraulein when she returned to his table and placed another
frosty stein in front of him. "Dark beer for a dark mood, ja?"

"I won't argue with that
statement," said Brad.

In the past, he'd always looked forward to
any training assignment that would take him back to Frankfort. Germany had
always held a special place in his heart. He loved the old city, the ancient
build­ings, the fastidious nature of the German people who were so clean they
even swept the sidewalks on a daily basis. Der Braau Haus, the quaint brewhouse
he was sitting in now, had been one of his favorite places the last time he
spent a few months in Frank­fort, whipping a group of new helicopter pilots
into shape.

He'd spent many pleasurable evenings sitting
ex­actly where he was sitting now, at a table in front of the massive stone
fireplace, enjoying the warmth of a roaring fire. Back then, he'd soaked up
every ounce of the rich Alpine atmosphere and flirted with the pretty
waitresses dressed in their traditional bar­maid's costumes, with their long
hair braided neatly and pinned on top of their heads. He'd also managed to
sample most of the superb German beers the es­tablishment had to offer. But
most of all, he'd en­joyed sitting around the table with his men, eating
bratwurst and telling tall tales, most of which were more fiction than fact.

But that had been P.M.

Pre-Maddie.

Now, Brad decided, he might as well be
sitting in a fast-food joint in Nowhere, Minnesota, with a Cy­clops tramping
drinks to his table.

Missing Maddie had certainly taken the enjoy­ment
out of many things he'd once held sacred. Like the camaraderie that usually
existed between him and his men. Since he left Maddie, he'd been so damn ornery
none of his men would even get near him. Not even Baker, after they'd
practically come to blows when his friend made the mistake of saying "I
told you so" in reference to what a woman like Maddie would do to him.

And she'd certainly gotten under his skin;
deeper than shrapnel would have done had he stepped on an enemy land mine.

He should have left things the way they were
when he and Maddie parted in the desert, he kept reminding himself. Maybe then
he could have re­turned to his old life and been satisfied playing the role of
the adventurous pilot who didn't have a care in the world.

Without Maddie, nothing made sense anymore.

Being in love sucks, Brad thought and put the stein to his lips for
another long swallow. He con­tinued to ignore his attentive barmaid, hoping she
would take the hint and move on to her next cus­tomer. She didn't. Instead she
stalled a bit longer, taking a red-and-white checked towel from across her arm
to wipe away the ringlet of moisture left behind on the table.

"Your wife? You are missing her?"

She bent over the table far enough that in
his past life he might have been tempted by the ample cleav­age her
off-the-shoulder white peasant blouse re­vealed. Her forest green weskit had
the drawstrings cinched so tight a man's hands could fit around her small
waist. But that didn't tempt Brad either. Es­pecially since her question about
a wife only made him remember how much it had bothered him the day Maddie told
him she never intended to marry.

"No wife," Brad admitted with a
frown, but he realized he should have lied about a wife when she immediately
sent him a hopeful smile.

"I am Freda," she said brightly.
She hesitated for a moment, then ran her finger suggestively over the back of
his hand. "If you are lonely..."

Brad looked up from his beer stein prepared
to dissuade her, but the first thing that caught his at­tention was the TV
above the bar.

What the hell?

Maddie!

The volume was turned up loud enough that he
could hear the excitement in the newscaster's voice, but Brad's German wasn't
good enough to make out what the man was saying. "I know her," Brad
said, quickly pointing to the television. "Can you trans­late for me? Can
you find out what's going on?"

Eager to please, Freda rushed back to the bar
and closer to the TV. She returned a moment later with a surprised look on her
face and her hands at her tiny waist. "You know this Madam
Butterfly?"

"Yes, I know her," Brad said,
motioning impa­tiently for her to continue. "What's going on?"

"She is pregnant. By the aliens."

"Pregnant!" Brad thundered, causing
Freda to jump.

He was so shaken himself, Brad grabbed for
the stein and drained the mug to the bottom. Pregnant? Could Maddie really be pregnant? He knew he had to get back to the base, and fast.
But he also knew it could take forever if he tried to pay his tab with a credit
card. Digging into his pocket, he threw down enough U.S. currency to make
Freda's blue eyes grow even wider than they had at his outburst.

"Do me a favor and pay my tab,"
Brad told her as he grabbed his flight jacket form the back of his chair.
"Keep the rest for your trouble."

Freda looked down at the five twenty-dollar
bills he had thrown on the table, then back at him when she picked up the
bills. "One hundred American dollars for two beers? You are joking, ja?"

"No joke," Brad assured her and
headed toward the thick wooden doors at the front of the brewhouse before Freda
could argue.

The second he stepped outside, he was hit by
the brisk November wind zipping around the corner. Brad turned up his collar
and hurried down the old cobblestone street, heading straight for his borrowed
jeep. Seconds later he was on his way back to the base, assuring himself the
media was only up to its old tricks again. But the possibility that Maddie could be
carrying his child was enough to make sweat pop out on his brow even in the
sub-zero cli­mate.

"Damn," Brad swore, pounding his
fist against the steering wheel. He'd been too stubborn to call her. And he'd
been too proud to take a chance that she might brush him off if he did try to
contact her again. But pregnant? The fact she might be pregnant had never
entered his mind. They'd used protection, dammit! He wasn't stupid.

Yet, why all the hullabaloo with the media
again?

Something was going on. Brad knew it. Just as
he knew it would take nothing short of a miracle to get back to the States so
he could find out the truth for himself.

He didn't bother stopping for idle chitchat
the way he usually did with the main guard, who was practically the only one on
base talking to him at the moment. Instead Brad produced his ID, then zoomed
past the guardhouse the second the arm of the barricade lifted to let him
through.

"Dammit, Maddie, why haven't you tried
to find me?" Brad mumbled under his breath, too worried to dwell on the
fact that Madam Butterfly hadn't seemed the least bit interested in where she
might find him the last time he'd been in her presence.

Maddie waited until
the last of her students filed out of the lecture hall, then let out a long
sigh of relief, thankful that her early-morning class was her only class for
the day. Tomorrow, the long Christ­mas break would begin. It was a break she
hoped would give her time to pull herself together and make some concrete
plans. She had just put her lec­ture notes in her briefcase when her mother
stormed into the lecture hall and slammed one of the tabloids down on the desk
in front of her.

Maddie looked down at the computer generated
picture of an infant with huge, vacant eyes staring back at her from an
otherwise normal-looking hu­man face. The caption below the picture read: What
Madam Butterfly's Offspring Will Look Like: A Baby Only A Woman Who Likes Bugs
Could Love.

"What are you going to do about this,
Made­line?" her mother demanded.

Maddie ripped the tabloid to pieces and threw
it into the waste can beside her desk. "Don't start with me, Mom."

"I'm not interested in starting anything.
I'm in­terested in you putting a stop
to this nonsense."

Maddie pushed back from her desk and stood
up. "We'll talk about this later. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"The only meeting you should be
having is with the press," Helen Morgan snapped. "I don't know who
you're protecting or why, but I do know if you don't give people some answers,
and soon, my grandchild will never be able to walk down the street in this town
without someone whispering something ugly behind its back."

"You think I'm not aware of that?"
Maddie wailed in protest. "You think it doesn't tear my heart out knowing
everyone is making fun of this child I'm carrying?"

"Then act like it," Helen ordered
and tossed one end of her scarf over her shoulder for effect. "A mother's
first responsibility is always to protect her own child. Now grow up and take
charge of this situation!"

When her mother stormed out of the lecture
hall the same way she'd blown in, Maddie felt like screaming. How dare her
mother act like she wasn't upset about the ugly pictures and the ridiculous
story that her child was an alien! She might not have had time to embrace
motherhood fully yet, but Maddie knew no one could ever love her child any more
than she did.

She briefly ran her hand protectively over
her stomach, then grabbed her briefcase and headed for the door. She hadn't
bothered to tell her mother the meeting she had to attend was a special meeting
called by Dr. Fielding and the dean of the college. She'd been expecting such a
meeting since Arnold Purdy announced on the front page of the Morgan City Times that she had purchased a pregnancy test at the
local pharmacy. And then the story had es­calated, just as Mary Beth predicted
it would.

She should have suspected they would wait
until the Christmas break to ask for her resignation. They would say, of
course, that McCray-Hadley couldn't afford the bad publicity, yadda yadda
yadda. What they wouldn't mention was her pregnancy, or the fact that being
unwed and pregnant in small-town America today was every bit as scandalous as
it had been fifty years earlier. Maddie was well aware of that fact, as were
the two members of the moral majority who were patiently waiting for her behind
closed doors now.

Maddie knocked on the door and held her head
high when she walked into the dean's office. If ei­ther man was impressed by
her resolve, he didn't show it.

"Please sit down, Dr. Morgan," said
the dean, pointing to the proverbial hot seat.

Maddie did as the dean instructed, but she
had her own agenda for this meeting. "I have something to say before this
meeting begins," Maddie told her persecutors, looking at the dean, and
then at Dr. Fielding.

The dean glanced at his cohort for approval.
When Dr. Fielding nodded, the dean said, "Yes, Dr. Morgan? What is it you
have to say?"

"I have fulfilled my obligations to this
college to the letter and my performance record is spotless. However, if you
choose to remove me from my fac­ulty position for any other reason than my
perfor­mance, gentlemen, then I'm sure my child and I will be able to live
quite comfortably on the huge settle­ment I'll win from you in court."

With that said, Maddie stood up and walked po­litely
out of the room. She didn't even bother slam­ming the dean's door for effect.
But she did feel totally exhilarated for the first time in days. In fact, she
was on such an incredible high, Maddie practi­cally skipped along the sidewalk
on her three-block walk back home.

Her incredible high disappeared, however,
when she saw what was waiting for her on her living-room sofa.

 

"How did you get in here?"
Maddie demanded.

Brad didn't even bother answering her
question. He pulled himself up from the sofa and stood look­ing at her with his
hands at his waist. "I want to know the truth, Maddie. Are you pregnant or
not?"

He watched her wilt like a marionette without
any strings. And he was there to catch her in his arms before the first tear
spilled over her eyelashes. "It's okay, Maddie. Please don't cry,"
Brad pleaded as she sobbed against his shoulder.

"Oh, Brad, it's been so terrible,"
she said be­tween sobs. "I was so shocked when I took the test...and I
never would have bothered you about the baby...but then the press picked up the
story...and my parents were livid...and my sister called me an idiot because
I'm not some authority on the effect maple syrup could have on con­doms...and..."

"Whoa," Brad said, pushing her away
so he could look at her. "What's this about syrup and con­doms?"

She wiped at her eyes. "Don't make fun
of me Brad...I'm still so confused. We were so care­ful...and..."

Brad pulled her to him again. "We
obviously weren't careful enough," he said. "But I can't be­lieve you
weren't going to tell me about the baby."

She wrestled away from his embrace. "But
Brad, you told me from the beginning you never wanted..."

"It doesn't matter what either of us wanted, Mad­die.
The fact is..."

"That we have to clear up this crazy
alien baby story immediately," she finished for him. "And now that
you're here, I want to hold a press confer­ence as soon as possible. I won't
have people think­ing our son is some offspring from outer space one second
longer."

"Son?" Brad echoed. "You mean
you've already had one of those ultrasounds?"

She shook her head. "No, but I know this
baby is a boy, Brad. Call it mother's intuition. Call it any­thing you like.
But I know this baby is a boy."

Feeling more than a little shaky, Brad walked
over and lowered himself slowly onto Maddie's sofa again. A boy. Maddie
had just confirmed she was having his child, and she was positive the baby was
a boy. During the time he'd been making arrange­ments for an extended leave of
absence, he'd had plenty of time to consider the possibility that Maddie was
pregnant. And his emotions had run the full gamut and back again.

He'd gone from being totally overwhelmed be­cause
he'd vowed never to have children, to feeling fiercely protective of his unborn
child and the woman he loved completely. He'd also thought a lot about
something Joe Gibbons had told him at his mother's funeral when, in a fit of
rage, Brad had cursed his father for being so selfish. "Your father loved
you and your mother with every ounce of his being, and he had that same passion
for his coun­try," Gibbons had told him. "I'd hate to think he gave
his life defending his family and his country for a son who can't appreciate
the ultimate sacrifice he made."

Brad had only been twenty at the time, too
young to understand the magnitude of what Gibbons had been trying to tell him.
Now he realized his father hadn't been selfish at all. His father had been a
man passionate about his family and his country. He had
been the selfish one, walling himself off from the rest of the world and never
allowing himself to love or be loved.

Brad had no intention of being selfish any
longer. He loved Maddie and he would love his son with every ounce of his
being, just as he loved his coun­try. His
son. Even the sound of those
words sounded foreign, yet Brad's heart filled with so much pride he thought he
might burst. He was still trying to process such astounding information when
Maddie said, "I don't expect any kind of commitment from you, Brad."

No commitment? Had Maddie gone crazy?

"You can be as involved, or as
uninvolved in our son's life as you choose to be."

Uninvolved? Did she really think he wouldn't want
to be involved in his own child's life?

"All I'm asking is that you stand at my
side when we both explain to the press that it was the Black Ghost, not a space
ship, that picked me up in the desert. And I want you to state categorically
and unequivocally that you are the father of my child, and not some
alien."

That snapped him out of his trance. "The
Black Ghost is scheduled to be unveiled next May, Mad­die, and I promise you,
we'll hold a press conference the very same day."

Her mouth dropped open. "Next May? The
baby's due next May, Brad. Surely you don't expect me to go through this entire
pregnancy with the me­dia announcing on a daily basis that our baby is an
alien."

Brad's look turned pleading. "All I'm
asking, Maddie, is that..."

"Well, I'm sorry, Brad, but I'm not
spending an­other six months in media hell. In fact, I'm not in­terested in
waiting even another minute. We're hold­ing a press conference today, Brad.
Today! And not one minute longer."

Brad was on his feet again. "Maddie.
Honey. You have to be reasonable about this..."

"Reasonable?" she yelled.
"Being reasonable is what got me into this mess! If I hadn't let you talk
me into keeping your stupid helicopter a secret, no one would be implying I was
having some alien's baby right now."

Her sharp tone made Brad react before he
could stop himself. "Now, dammit, Maddie. I didn't ex­actly have to twist
your arm to swear you to secrecy, and you know it."

"I don't remember it being my arm you
were interested in," she accused. "In fact, I'm beginning to wonder
if I haven't been just another one of your top secret assignments from the
beginning. Was that your real assignment, Brad? Did the Air Force ask you to
make love to the pitiful old maid professor as a double guarantee she'd never
say a word about your damn helicopter?"

Brad was stunned. "How can you even make
such an accusation? Look me in the eye this minute and tell me you really
believe that."

"All I know is that you can unveil your
precious Black Ghost after
the press conference, Brad. It's as simple as
that."

"Simple? There's nothing simple about
it, Mad­die. I don't have any control over when the Black Ghost is going to be
unveiled. It's not my decision."

She crossed her arms stubbornly across her
chest. "Then make it your decision. Call your commander and tell him this
is another one of those circum­stances that doesn't qualify as your typical
situa­tion."

"Or what?"

Maddie didn't waiver. "Or I'll tell the
world about the Black Ghost myself."

"You gave me your word you wouldn't do
that, Maddie."

There was no warmth in her eyes when she
said, "We weren't having a child when I gave you my word, Brad. But we are
having a child now. And if you haven't worked things out by the end of the
week, then I'll have no choice but to hold my own press conference on
Friday."

Brad threw his hands up in the air. "I
can't be­lieve you're overreacting like this."

"And I can't believe you'd continue to
let the world think your own flesh and blood was an alien! I know we've always
said our careers come first, but we have someone else to think about now."

"I'm not choosing my career over our
baby, Mad­die, and we will put an end to the alien story. All I'm saying is
that we have to wait a few more months so..."

"And I'm telling you the longer this
myth is al­lowed to circulate, the more real it becomes, Brad. Do you really
want your son to grow up..."

"I want my son to grow up with two
rational parents, and you aren't being rational at the moment. I said we'll
hold a press conference. We'll even get married..."

"Even get married?" she yelled. "Well, thank
you, Captain Hawkins. How gallant of you to make such a noble sacrifice!"

Damn! He
had to get a copy of that phrase book.

He had made her so angry now, Brad could see
she was literally shaking. He quickly softened his tone. "I didn't mean it
like that, Maddie. You didn't let me finish what I was trying..."

"No, you're definitely finished as far
as I'm con­cerned." Her voice was calm. Too calm.

"Maddie, please. You have to realize
there are standard Air Force policies and procedures...."

"Please leave," she said, pointing
to the door.

Brad took a step in her direction.

"I mean it, Brad. I want you to leave.
There's no room in our baby's life for you, if you can't be more concerned
about him than you are about your stupid helicopter."

"Maddie, please..."

She walked across the room and threw her
apart­ment door open wide. "Goodbye, Brad." Her voice wavered.
"If I don't hear from you by Friday, I never want to see your face
again."

Brad hesitated for a moment, but then he
stomped across the room and slammed Maddie's apartment door behind him.

He'd always heard pregnant women could be ir­rational,
but Maddie was being downright impossi­ble. As if he could do a damn thing
about when the government planned to unveil the Black Ghost.

Call the old man, she'd said. Ha! And say what? Sorry, but I'm in a bit of a jam with the mother of
my unborn son. How about letting me borrow the Black Ghost on Friday so the
woman I love won't cut me out of my own child's life? Yeah. As if that would change anything.

"Women," Brad mumbled as he headed
for the rental car parked in front of Maddie's apartment house. He'd known from
the second he laid eyes on her she was trouble. Yet, what had he done? Hell,
he'd practically handed her the rope so she could place the noose around his
neck.

And she certainly had him twisting in the
wind now.

He was screwed any way he turned. The woman
he loved would break all contact with him when he didn't show up for her press
conference, and he'd be in deep trouble with the Air Force when she told the
press about the Black Ghost.

Cursing under his breath, Brad turned on the
ig­nition and roared away from the curb. All of his life he had sworn he would
never have children. And why? Because Brad couldn't bear the thought of any
child of his growing up without a father the way he'd been forced to do
himself. Yet, that's exactly what was going to happen. She would never back
down when he didn't show up at her damn press conference on Friday. He also
knew demanding that the Air Force unveil the Black Ghost early because he was
having personal issues wouldn't change a thing. Unless...

Instead of heading south toward Atlanta to
make arrangements for an international flight back to Ger­many, Brad turned
north when he reached the out­skirts of Morgan City. North to 1-85, the stretch
of interstate that would take him to Arlington, Virginia. Home of the one man
Brad had always turned to in the past when he found himself with a problem and
no possible solution.

During the ten-hour trip from
Morgan City to Arlington, Brad had plenty of time to decide exactly what he was
going to say to the man he had always called Uncle Joe in private. However,
when he pulled the rental car into the circular driveway of an impressive Tudor
home at eight o'clock that eve­ning, Brad couldn't remember a single word of
the speech he'd rehearsed all the way from Morgan City.

As he sat in the car, Brad's gut instinct
told him to drive away and go back to Germany and his cur­rent assignment, and
he probably would have done so had the front door not opened before he had a
chance to change his mind. The tall, slender woman known to him as Aunt Bess
hesitated on the porch for a second. She squealed with delight when the outdoor
spotlights illuminating the driveway al­lowed her to see who was sitting in her
driveway.

"Joe! Look who's here," Bess
Gibbons called over her shoulder before she headed down the front porch steps.
She had Brad in a bear hug the minute he stepped out of the car.

Following along behind his wife with a scowl
on his face, Joe Gibbons shook Brad's hand before he said, "What the hell
are you doing in the States? I thought you were in Frankfurt."

Brad opened his mouth to answer, but Bess
swat­ted her husband on the arm. "Can't you at least say hello before you
start interrogating the boy, Joe? Be­sides, who cares where Brad was? He's here
now, and that's all that matters. Now I won't have to mail his Christmas
present. We can celebrate early."

Brad accepted another hug from the woman who
was still pretty enough to be a fashion model, but the silent look he exchanged
with his uncle Joe left the old man no question that Brad had a problem. Before
either of them could say a word, Aunt Bess turned her salt-and-pepper head in
Brad's direction and said, "I've just persuaded this old goat to take me
to dinner, Brad. I'm so glad you're here so you can join us."

"Well, I..."

"No excuses," Bess said with
authority as she linked her arm through Brad's and began leading him in the
direction of the Cadillac that was parked in front of Brad's rental car.
"I haven't seen you in ages, and I can't wait to hear what's going on in
your life."

Brad cringed at that remark. "I really
came to talk to Uncle Joe."

"Then while you boys talk shop, you can
ignore me completely. But you're not leaving me behind and that's final."

Minutes later Brad found himself sitting in
the back seat of his godparent's Cadillac, still trying to remember the speech
he'd rehearsed all the way from Morgan City.

"Well, you've got yourself
in one hell of a mess this time," Joe Gibbons said with a concerned look
on his face.

Brad sent a nervous look around the
restaurant, afraid his uncle Joe would start pounding the table at any second.

"Nonsense," Bess spoke up.
"Our boy's in love and I think it's wonderful." She reached across
the table and patted Brad's hand. "I can't wait to meet your Maddie in
person, Brad."

Brad let out a long sigh. "I doubt
you're ever going to meet Maddie, Aunt Bess. She's hysterical about this alien
baby story. She's demanding I hold a press conference immediately" Brad
stopped short and glanced at Gibbons. Gibbons shook his head slightly, but not
so slightly that Bess didn't pick up on the gesture.

She pushed back in her chair and shook her
head disgustedly. "Obviously, you two have forgotten that I've been a
military wife for forty years. Surely you don't think I'm so stupid I didn't
put two and two together when that alien abduction story first hit the news. I
knew both of you were in Roswell. But on routine maneuvers? Please. The second
Brad ap­peared on television, I knew the Air Force was in­volved somehow."

Brad looked at Gibbons. Gibbons frowned.

"But, I'm not going to ask for any
specific de­tails," Bess continued. "After forty years I know better
than to ask. But I do agree with Brad's Mad­die. Brad needs to do whatever it
takes to clear up this alien baby story. And he needs to do it now."

Brad shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry,
Aunt Bess. That's impossible. At least right now."

"Damn right it's impossible,"
Gibbons con­firmed.

"Nonsense," Bess said with the
authority of a four-star general. "Nothing is impossible when you put your
mind to it."

Gibbons sent her a patient smile. "I'm
afraid you don't quite understand what's involved here, dear."

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Joe,"
Bess cor­rected. "How dare I suggest the Air Force bypass standard
procedure for something as unimportant as a woman's reputation and honor."

Brad didn't like where the conversation was
head­ing. He'd expected a little sympathy from the woman he loved like a
mother. He'd expected his aunt Bess to comfort him, to agree that Maddie was
being totally impossible about the situation. But now Aunt Bess was sending him
the same beady-eyed glare Maddie had given him when she threw him out of her
apartment.

Women, Brad
thought. He'd never understand them in a million years.

"Now, Bess," Joe Gibbons spoke up.

"Don't now, Bess, me! I don't blame
Maddie for being livid. And don't you dare sit there, Joe, and pretend you
wouldn't have caught pure hell from me if you'd expected me to sit idly by
while any of our three children were being called aliens by the press. I never
thought I'd say this, but at the moment I'm ashamed of both of
you."

Gibbon's face turned beet-red. "And what
do you expect me to do about it? Permission to straighten this mess out would
have to come straight from the horse's mouth."

"And you play golf almost every weekend
with the President now that you're back home waiting out your retirement."

Brad looked at Gibbons. Gibbons glared back
at Brad.

"You know what the problem really is
here, Bess?"

"You bet I know what the problem is. You
big, tough Air Force men are so busy trying to prove to each other how macho
you are, you forget there are times when the women in your lives need a little
old-fashioned understanding."

"Bull. The problem is you women watch
too many damn soap operas," Gibbons accused. "Maybe in one of your
daytime delusions a guy would jog over to the White House to tell the leader of
the free world all about the personal problems he was having with his
girlfriend, but this is the real
world, Bess. And if you think either one of
us is going to worry the President with..."

Bess threw her napkin down on the table.
"Then I guess I'll just have to take the matter into my own hands."

This time Gibbons did pound the table.
"Now, dammit, Bess. I will not have you barging into the oval office
and..."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me
going to the President, Joe. I'm sure he'd only give me the same glazed-over
stare Brad probably gave Maddie and you just gave me. I'm going to have a nice
little chat with someone who has the power to do some­thing about this dilemma.
And I'm sure the First Lady will give me her full attention!"

When Bess left the table in a huff, Brad
shook his head in amazement. "I'm shocked. I've never heard Aunt Bess
raise her voice in my life."

"Bess? Are you kidding?" Gibbons
snorted. "That woman's been a spitfire from the moment I met her."

"But...but how have you stayed married
all these years?" Brad asked in wonder.

Gibbons leaned closer and said, "Don't
ever tell her, but I wouldn't have her any other way. A little conflict gets
the old juices flowing, if you know what I mean."

Brad could certainly identify with that
statement. Maddie had had his juices flowing one way or an­other since he
helped her up from the floor of the Black Ghost. Maybe there is hope for me and Mad­die, Brad was thinking when Gibbons ran his hand over
his face and said, "I should warn you Bess never backs down from a threat.
We'll be lucky if we're not both thrown in prison after the First Lady gets
through with the President."

Brad hung his head. "Well, at least if
Maddie knows I'm behind bars on her behalf, she might bring little William
Joseph to see me now and then."

Gibbons sent him a puzzled look.
"William Jo­seph?"

Brad nodded. "I want my son named after
the two finest men I've ever known."

Brad pretended not to see his uncle Joe reach
up to swipe at the corner of his eye. But after several seconds of silence,
Gibbons finally said, "Your fa­ther would be proud to have the boy named
after him, Brad. And so will I."








 

 

 




10

 

Maddie put on her makeup with
particular care on Friday morning. At ten o'clock every major news affiliate in
the nation would be waiting at Morgan City's courthouse square for the notorious
Madam Butterfly to finally make a public statement. The press could believe
her, or not. And the Air Force could deny the story, or not. But at least she
was finally offering an explanation that would counteract the alien abduction
theory. Not that being picked up by a top secret helicopter and then having an
affair with the man who held her captive didn't sound just as ridiculous.

Having to break the promise she made to Brad
bothered Maddie deeply. But when another queasy feeling overtook her, she was
quickly reminded that she had something more important than just a few
butterflies in her stomach.

As for Brad himself, Maddie hadn't heard
another word from him. Not that she really expected to hear from him again. In
the back of her mind she knew Brad's hands were more or less tied, but her
heart kept telling her the least he could have done was try to reason with his
superiors. Had he called her, saying he'd made his plea to the Air Force and
had been turned down, Maddie might have even considered riding out the storm
for another six months. But it had been Brad's cut-and-dried
no-way-in-hell-am-I-going-to-inconvenience-the-Air-Force response that had made
her so angry. Not to mention his infuriating accusation that she was
overreacting to the situation.

How did he expect her to react?

No mother in the world would be able to sit
by and allow anyone to call her baby ugly, much less an alien.

Pulling on the skirt of her best navy wool
suit, Maddie found she would have to rely on a safety pin to span the gap her
once twenty-four-inch waist hadn't needed. She then tugged at her white silk
top just enough to blouse it over the waistband and hide the telltale pin. It
really shouldn't have surprised her that the jacket to her suit also felt snug
when she buttoned the center button. She opted to leave her jacket open, then
ran a brush through her hair one final time.

In less than an hour, she would face the
world in an effort to protect her baby, and ultimately betray the man she loved
at the same time. With each stroke of the clock, Maddie prayed for a miracle,
and a shrill ring gave Maddie one last hope as she ran for the phone.

Caller ID erased that hope when she saw her
twin's number come up on the screen.

"I just wanted to wish you luck,"
Mary Beth said when Maddie picked up the phone. "And I want you to know I
feel like a real witch because I can't be there with you, Maddie. Especially
since I'm the one responsible for resurrecting the alien awareness that's
turned my sister into the queen of the tab­loids."

"And I'm the one who wouldn't listen
when you told me not to climb that fence," Maddie reminded her twin with a
sigh. "You just concentrate on shooting the pilot for your new soap
opera."

"Well, at least Mom and Pop are going
with you to the press conference this morning."

Maddie groaned. "Please, don't remind
me. I can just see Mom now, dragging a tissue out of her purse to wipe away
some imaginary smudge on my nose while the cameras are rolling. And Pop taking
this opportunity to hand out campaign buttons for his reelection next
year."

Mary Beth laughed. "But you have to give
them credit for being excited about the baby, Maddie. Mom's ecstatic you've
decided to stop renting out the house Granny Morgan left you and move into it
yourself. You were smart to hold on to that property. I sold the condo Granny
left me and can't even re­member how I spent the money."

"I never needed a big house
before," Maddie said as she ran her hand over her stomach. "But the
house is far enough away from Mom and Pop to keep them from breathing down my
neck, and its close enough so I can drop the baby off on my way to work."

"They're both really looking forward to
looking after the baby, you know. Did Mom tell you Pop's already bought two
boxes of cigars to hand out when the baby arrives?"

"There'll be no smoking around the
baby," Mad­die said with authority.

Mary Beth laughed. "Just listen to
yourself, Mad­die. You've turned into supermom overnight. Have you asked Pop to
order your minivan yet?"

"Very funny," said Maddie, but she
was often amazed herself at how quickly she'd embraced the new role she was
about to undertake. She was even looking forward to a shopping trip with her
mother next week for baby furniture. Especially since after the press
conference, she'd be free to roam the streets of Morgan City without fear of
being ac­costed by the paparazzi.

"Gotta run. Someone's calling my name on
the set," Mary Beth said. "But you be brave, little sis­ter. Be
brief. And most of all, be proud of yourself for doing what's best for my
nephew."

Maddie checked her watch when she hung up the
receiver. It was nine forty-five. Brad's time was up. Without another thought,
she opened her apartment door and closed it soundly behind her, fully confi­dent
that she and her baby would do just fine with­out him. Of course, being a
single mom and raising a child alone certainly wasn't the way she had her life
planned out. But Maddie's big wake-up call had been the realization that there
were no guarantees you got to live life exactly as you planned it.

She was definitely a walking testimony to
that fact.

Relieved to see her father's sedan already
waiting at the curb, Maddie headed to the car, but an over-eager reporter
suddenly jumped out at her from be­hind the hedges blocking her path. Maddie
threw her arm up to shield her face from the camera and pushed past him.
Flashbulbs were still going off like strobe lights when Maddie jumped into the
back seat of her father's sedan.

"Thank Heaven, this will all be over
after today," her mother said as her father sped away from the curb.

Maddie didn't comment, but she was thinking
to herself that more than the media madness would be over at the end of this
day. Any chance of having a relationship with the man she loved and the father
of her child would also be over. And as if in apology to their unborn child,
Maddie patted her slightly pro­truding stomach and said a silent prayer that
her son would eventually forgive her for making the deci­sion to bring him up
without a father.

"Good Lord. I haven't seen this many
people in town since Georgia's native son, Jimmy Carter, stopped in Morgan City
when he was campaigning for president," Mayor Morgan said when the court­house
square came into view.

Maddie gazed out the back seat window at the
beautiful old square that was as big as a football field. It still served as
the meeting place after church on Sunday, when families brought their blankets
and their baskets for an old-fashioned picnic on the green. The thought that
she would want to bring her own son to the square for a picnic one day gave
Maddie the courage she needed when her father stopped the car and every eye
turned in her direc­tion.

Not bothering to wait for her parents, Maddie
pulled herself out of the back seat and started walk­ing in the direction of
the slew of reporters eagerly awaiting her arrival. And standing at the front
of the pack was Nerdy Purdy with his gap tooth grin, look­ing like a hungry
jackal ready to move in for the kill.

Refusing to be intimidated, Maddie stared the
lit­tle creep down and kept walking straight in his di­rection. They were
practically nose to nose when someone let out a blood-curdling scream.

People started running in every direction.

But not Nerdy Purdy. Poor Arnold remained fro­zen
to the spot, with his eyes bugged out and a look of sheer terror on his face.
It wasn't until Maddie followed his gaze upward that she saw what was
responsible for the chaos. The imposing Black Ghost was making a silent landing
not far from where they were standing. Nerdy Purdy's eyes rolled back in his
head and he passed out right in front of her. Without a second thought, Maddie
stepped over Ar­nold's splayed body and started running. He came!

The only thing on her mind at the moment was
getting to Brad. He was actually there, with his Black Ghost, and that told
Maddie everything she needed to know: the man she loved had come to her rescue.

The second Brad dropped from the cockpit to
the ground Maddie threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. And once
everyone realized Morgan City hadn't been invaded by little green men from
outer space, they surrounded Brad and Maddie like a swarm of hungry locusts.

Pulling her close to his side, Brad waited
until the din of the crowd faded away. "I'm Captain Brad Hawkins of the
United States Air Force," he an­nounced with authority. "And I want
to introduce you to the top secret aircraft that has kept Dr. Mor­gan silent
since she stumbled upon a testing facility in Roswell, New Mexico, last
summer."

Everyone started shouting at once.

Brad held his hand up and waited until the
crowd fell silent again. "Dr. Morgan agreed to do her part as a
responsible American citizen and not reveal any details about our top secret
operation. Unfortunately, the media has harassed her to the point where the
President himself asked me to attend this press con­ference today and put an
end to the alien abduction story once and for all." The crowd went wild.

Questions were being thrown at Brad and
Maddie from every direction.

"But what about the baby?" someone
from the crowd yelled.

And when that question surfaced, Brad
surprised Maddie by taking her by the shoulders and turning her around to face
him. "I love you, Maddie. Com­pletely. Do you think you could love
me?"

Maddie blinked. "Yes. I mean I do. I
love you already, Brad."

"Then marry me. I'll be a good husband
and I'll be the best father I can be to our child."

The crowd grew so quiet Maddie could hear her
own heart beating. She reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. "I didn't
think you wanted to get married and have a family."

Brad held her gaze. "I remember you
saying ex­actly the same thing."

Maddie's chin came up. "I don't intend
to give up my career."

Brad shrugged. "Neither do I."

Maddie smiled. "Then our marriage would
be rather unconventional, don't you think?"

Brad smiled back. "We're rather
unconventional people. With a little compromise, I'm sure we can work it
out."

"Madeline Ann Morgan!" a voice
Maddie had no trouble recognizing as her mother's yelled from the back of the
crowd. "Say yes before this nice young man loses his patience and
changes his mind."

"Yes," Maddie said, and the crowd
cheered with approval when Brad pulled her into his arms for a long, searing
kiss.

"What's going on? What have I
missed?" Nerdy Purdy kept shouting as he ran from place to place, trying
to push his way through the crowd.

"Captain, can you tell us more about the
helicop­ter?" a reporter from CNN called out.

"The new F-211 Black Ghost will be
officially unveiled at the Pentagon next week," said Brad. "The
details will be given to the public then."

"When are you going to set a date for
the wed­ding?" came another shout.

"Are you going to be married here in
Morgan City?" someone else yelled.

"Of course, they are," Mayor Morgan
spoke up. And when the cameras turned in his direction, he said with a broad
politician's smile, "Her mother and I wouldn't have it any other
way."

"It looks like your father has things
under control here," Brad whispered in Maddie's ear. "Why don't we
see if we can make our escape?"

"I'll call you later, Mom," Maddie
said with a wave when Brad boosted her up into the cockpit of the helicopter.

"When is the baby due?"

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Do you have any names picked out for
the baby?"

Brad pulled himself into the seat beside
Maddie and sealed off the flurry of questions when he slid the door of the
Black Ghost into place. "And do you have any names picked out for our son?" he
asked when he turned to face her.

Maddie leaned over and kissed him before she
said, "No. Do you?"

Brad flipped several switches, bringing the
pow­erful machine to life. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to call him
William Joseph. William for my father, and Joseph for Joe Gibbons."

"Commander Gibbons? You mean the man who
made you hold me captive against my will?"

Brad sent her a worried look as he lifted the
big machine into the air. "Would that be a problem?"

Maddie laughed. "Are you kidding? How
much more Southern can you get than Billy Joe?"

"Now, wait a minute, Maddie," Brad
began to argue. "Billy's fine. So is Joe. But I don't know about calling
any son of mine Billy Joe."

Maddie raised an eyebrow when he looked back
in her direction. ' 'Oh, really? What happened to all that compromising you
were ready to do a few minutes ago, Brad darling?"

Brad hesitated. "How about calling him
B.J.? I could live with B.J."

"B.J.," Maddie repeated. "B.J.
Hawkins."

"Sure has a nice ring to it," Brad
threw in for good measure, then leaned forward and kissed Mad­die again.

"And exactly where are you taking me and
little B.J. at the moment?" Maddie said, running her hand possessively
down the full length of his arm.

"First, we're going to take the Black
Ghost home so it won't miss the big ceremony next week," Brad told her,
"and then we're going to have lunch with two wonderful ladies who can't
wait to meet you."

"But, Brad. Look at me. I'm a
mess."

"You look beautiful," Brad
insisted, unaware that Maddie would threaten to kill him later when she found
out he was taking her to the White House for lunch.

"And after lunch?"

"After lunch we'll rent a car and I'll
drive you back home. From what your father just said, it sounds like we have a
wedding to plan."

"A Christmas wedding," Maddie mused
happily. "My favorite time of year." She added with a smile,
"And you really don't mind if we get married in my hometown?"

"Not at all," Brad said, but he
sent Maddie a sultry look when he added, "just as long as I get to plan
the honeymoon."

"I've seen that look before, Hawk,"
Maddie warned. ' 'Do I dare ask what you have in mind for this honeymoon of
ours?"

Brad grinned. "I prefer to surprise you.
But I will make you one promise. The honeymoon I'll plan for us will be so
spectacular, your alien buddies from outer space will turn even greener with
envy."

Maddie rolled her eyes. "If it's okay
with you, I never want to hear the word alien
again as long as I live."

"Really?" Brad said, sending her a
sideways glance. "Then I guess the trip I was planning for us next summer
will be totally out of the question."

Maddie turned in her seat to face him.
"What trip?"








"Oh, a trip out west to a little town
called Roswell."

"Roswell?" Maddie echoed.

"Yeah. I ran into this famous
entomologist once who was out in the desert looking for a butterfly."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Maddie said
with a laugh.

Brad nodded. "But because of me, she
lost that butterfly."

Maddie reached out and took Brad's hand.
"I bet your famous entomologist would tell you what she did find out in
that desert was far more important than the butterfly she lost."

"And what would that be?"

"She found herself and she
found the man who is going to make her life complete."

"You think?"

"Absolutely," Maddie said, placing
Brad's hand gently on her stomach. "Don't ever doubt it."

 








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