...Summer allowed herself to be towed along for several steps before the realization kicked in that she was being treated exactly as if she were the spoils of that recent masculine power struggle. She halted, more like a balky child than a reluctant bride, and pulled her arm free of Riley Grogan's grasp. She was obscurely pleased when he stopped and looked back at her in utter astonishment, as if an inanimate object had suddenly acquired legs and voice.

"Excuse me," she said, "but I would like to know. Where, exactly, are you taking us?"

Riley stepped back and leaned down so that his face was close to hers. "Can we talk about this later? Like...outside?"

It was very quiet in the hallway. On the edges of her vision Summer was intensely aware of her children's wide-eyed, listening stares, and beyond them, Jake Redfield, alert and interested, his face looking as if it might even smile. She inhaled through her nose, struggling to take in air that had suddenly become thick and warm as fur. "No," she said, through lips that barely moved, "now...please."

The silence held for perhaps three suspenceful seconds more. Then Summer felt the breeze of a silent exhalation, and once more the pressure of Riley's fingers on her elbow. He said to the three interested spectators, with mocking courtesy, "Would y'all please excuse us?" as he drew her with him into the empty restroom and closed the door.

She felt lightheaded; her ears were ringing. Afraid to give herself time to think about why that should be so, Summer launched into what she knew was a pointless protest, delivered in harsh whispers: "I'm not about to let you just haul us off without knowing where it is you're taking us."

For a long, tense moment he gazed at her, his eyes dark and thoughtful. Then, as if he understood, he suddenly nodded. That astonished her so that she felt as if the bands that were holding her together inside had just snapped, leaving everything loose and trembly.

"Mrs. Robey, you know the situation better than I do. Not only do you have children and animals with particular needs, but there's the security aspect to be considered. Someone has tried to do you harm. They may do so again."

"Yes," Summer whispered. "That's why I can't go to my family. Please understand--I can't take this--my trouble--home to them."

Again he nodded as if he truly understood. "Which is why I believe I have the only solution. I'm taking you home with me."

"Home--with you? No--" Instinctive reaction forced the word from Summer's lips. She repeated it in a whisper, her breath gone. "No. Absolutely not. I can't--won't let you do this."

Pride. Riley's temper flickered and flared like heat lightning, and he had to turn his back on his client for a moment to let the breezes of reason cool it down. He understood the woman, but that didn't make dealing with her any easier. In some ways, it may even have made it harder.

He turned to her again, his eyes sliding downward past her face, the dangerous shoals of terrified eyes and too-vulnerable mouth, as he reached for her hands. No nonsense hands. A doctor's hands. A mother's hands. He held them for a moment, feeling their strength, their gentleness, their competence. Then he let them go and slipped his hands to her wrists. A woman's wrists. He felt their fragility.

"Tell me something," he said softly. "If you were to break these, what would you do?" She made a small, surprised sound. "No, really--if you were to break both of your arms, say, in a fall--what would you do? Would you hire someone to feed you, dress you, brush your teeth for you? Would you ask a friend?" She shook her head in silent denial and tried to pull her hands away. He held them tighter. "No--better yet, what if you had an illness, a life-threatening illness? Would you consult a doctor?" He knew she was staring at him now, angry but unresisting. Bracing himself, he met the pride and fury and challenge in her eyes with all the strength of his own will. Knowing they were two of a kind. But I'm the stronger, Summer Robey. You may not want to accept it, but it's true. I'm stronger because I've already been through my crucible. And yours is just beginning...