Disclaimer: All characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author.

For the sixteenth time a slender hand slammed the receiver back on its cradle.

"One more time like that and you'll break the phone. Then you won't have to make a decision."

Jerilyn Helmsly graced her roommate and best friend, Rosalind Walker, with her fiercest frown. Roz sneered back at her.

"What do you know?" Jeri finally grumbled, curling her legs under her on the couch and folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Roz picked up the newspaper and pointed to the highlighted heart. "I know you shouldn't be answering this ad."

Jeri snatched the paper away. "Mind your own business."

Roz remained unruffled. "The only legitimate qualification you have is that you're attractive." She sat next to her roommate. "OK, you don't drink . . . much. You don't smoke . . . anymore. I'll give you those two, but, rollerblading?"

"I can learn." She said defensively.

"Financially secure?"

"I have a job!"

". . .hanging by a strand of hair."

"Alex is an asshole, but he's not going to fire me."

"You keep calling him an asshole, and he might."

"I'm one of his best stylists."

"One of, not the only one, Jeri. You're tramping on the man's ego."

Jeri's answer was a disgusted noise.

"And sports? You don't know a hockey puck from a football."

"One has points at both ends. The other looks like a chocolate ding-dong." She waved a hand in dismissal. "When I don't know, I'll punt."

"Fumble and incur penalties is more like it. OK, just say you punt your way through sports, including wrestling, for heaven's sake; and don't cause major damage to anything vital while attempting in-line skating . . ." She pointed to a line of type. "It says 40 to 45."

"So?"

"So, where are you gonna punt six years?"

"Cosmetology's my life, Roz. I can paint on maturity."

Roz studied her for a second. "Yeah, I guess you could pull it off . . . until you open your mouth."

"Are you implying that I'm immature, best friend o' mine?"

Roz shrugged. Remember Cinderella's glass slipper?"

"Huh?"

"You still believe in fairy tales, luv, but what happened after the stroke of midnight?"

"She found her prince and they lived happily ever after." Jeri picked up the phone and began to dial.

"Yeah, but she had a fairy godmother to save her ass when the prince found out she'd been lying to him. Who's gonna save you?"

Kit angrily poured the Courvoisier into a tumbler and tossed back the entire contents. Coughing several times to ease the burn, he poured himself another and stalked back to the living room. At the moment, he was too angry to paint and too keyed-up to sleep. Throwing himself down on the couch, he placed the glass on the end table and switched on the lamp. The answering machine light was blinking fast and furiously. He pushed the play button.

Several were calls from customers, prospective customers, and admirers of his work: two were from his agent, the latter more frantic than the former, one from his mother, one from each of his sisters, one from each of his brothers. The last one caught and held his attention.

"Mr. Faulkner, this is Ms. Alvez from DateMate. Your voice mail box is full. Please retrieve your calls more timely or we must discuss alternate arrangements for storage of your messages. Thank you."

DateMate? Voice Mail? Full? He raised an eyebrow. The only way DateMate had a voice mail box on him was they had an ad. He and his baby sister had talked about the sick, desperate people who took out those kinds of ads. Kris remembered she'd asked him, hypothetically, what he would say if he were to take out an ad. He'd never . . . never given her the go ahead to place one.

He dialed her number.

"Hello?"

"Tell me you didn't." He growled at her.

"I didn't." Came her smooth reply.

That glib answer made his blood pressure rise. "OK, smart mouth, I can be there in thirty minutes."

Her reply was dripping with sarcasm. "Oooo, you're scaring me."

"I could be calling from my car."

There was a marked pause. "If you were, there'd be static."

"But you're not sure, are you?"

Another pause. "Keenan thought it'd be funny."

"And he'll say it was all your idea." He smiled at the childlike quality of her voice now. Sometimes it payed to be the big, older male sibling.

"Oh, Kit, you're not really mad! Are you?"

"Want to come over and find out?"

"We're not kids anymore!"

He snorted derisively.

"Lighten up, Kit! No harm, no foul."

"You're pushing it, Dana."

"So, did you get any responses?"

"Just what did this ad say?"

"Nothing you'd disapprove of."

"I disapprove of the whole thing, squirt."

"It was dignified and tasteful. Trust me."

"Now why does that bother me?"

"Just answer your voice mail. The number's 1333."

"You know I'm gonna get you for this, don't you?"

"Gotta catch me first, tough guy!"

"I know where you live. I can come after you any time."

There was a long pause. "Maybe now would be a good time to go see mom."

"I know where she lives, too."

"Come on, Kit, give it a chance. It's better than what you're doing now."

"You and Keenan both. Your butts are mine!" He hung up the phone.

Tonight was the second date with Sharon, the sophisticate. They were going to the Arena for wrestling. If Kit had found one truth in dating, it was that wrestling was a sure way to weed out the liars.

He knocked on her door.

"Hi." His smile faded. She wasn't dressed. He was certain he'd told her the time he was picking her up. He tried for diplomacy. "Am I early?"

"You didn't check your messages." She purred as she leaned on the doorframe.

"I came straight from the gallery."

She eyed his state of dress with visible disdain.

"Yes," her voice was icy, "I can see that."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Only that you didn't check your messages."

"I feel odd standing in the hall. Can we talk about this inside?"

"No."

"Sharon, what's the matter with you?"

"I left a message on your machine."

"Well, I didn't get it. Is there a problem with my coming in?" He tried to look around her into the apartment.

She maneuvered into his field of vision. "I have company. Maybe you should check your message." Sharon stepped back into her apartment.

He stopped the door from shutting. "Maybe you can tell me."

She eyed his hand on the door. When she saw he wasn't moving it she said, "My idea of an entertaining evening doesn't include a hockey game and a pizza."

"You said you liked hockey."

Ruby-red lips parted in a feline smile. "I lied."

"What else did you lie about?"

"Obviously about having a good time at the hockey game." She replied coolly.

"Why'd you even bother answering my ad?"

She shrugged, an indifferent lifting of one shoulder. "I'll admit the thought of dating an artist intrigued me." She looked down her nose at him distaste. "You're not at all what I envisioned."

"Yeah, I guess I've learned to make do with life's disappointment better than you, Sharon." He stepped back from the door.

Sharon slammed it in his face.

It took five, deep, cleansing breaths before he cooled down enough to walk to the elevator. What was he going to do with the tickets? They were on the lower mezzanine, right in the middle, over the action. He hated to waste them.

Kit found himself dialing the number from his cellular before he realized what he was doing.

She answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hello, yourself."

"Kit!" Her smile conveyed itself over the phone. "What can I do for you?"

She put him in a playful mood. "Hmmm, that's a loaded question, sure you wanna know?"

It took her a moment, then she laughed. "You're in a good mood."

"I wasn't a minute ago. So, what're you doing?"

"Just fixing my hair."

"Nothing complicated, I hope." Some of her styles bordered on the bizarre.

"Just a wash and set. What's up?"

"Were you telling the truth when you said you liked wrestling?"

She hesitated. "The last match I saw, I enjoyed."

"How long ago was that?"

There was another nervous pause. "Why do you ask?"

"I've got tickets. You want to go?"

"The only match scheduled is tonight."

He was impressed. "Too short notice?"

"Kinda."

Kit's buoyant mood of moments ago, began to fade. "I understand . . ."

"No, wait. I'll go. Give me half an hour. OK?"

"What? Yeah, sure!" He paused. "Oh, could you do me just one favor?"

"Is it gonna hurt?"

"Not if you understand this isn't a criticism, OK?"

"Uh oh."

"Just don't wear so much makeup. OK?"

The long pause stretched into dead air and Kit thought he'd blown it.

"OK?" He repeated, hoping he kept the plea out of his voice.

"Sure."

"OK, see you in thirty minutes."

"He invited me out."

"So, why the face?"

"He specifically asked me to cut down on the face paint."

"You were overdoing it."

"Roz, without the mask I look like a kid."

"You look young."

"I look like a kid!"

"Yeah, you look like a kid." Her friend sighed. "I told you."

"Roz, don't criticize! Help!"

"Tell him the truth, Jeri."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Cuz, I wanna keep him!" She wailed miserably.

"Just how long do you think you'll keep him when he finds out you've been lying?"

"He won't find out!" She said over her shoulder as she headed for the bathroom.

Roz snorted. "Then you woke up." She mumbled under her breath.

Jeri's skin was smooth, and creamy as caramel. Her hair thick and glossy black. Her lips, full, red, lush, her eyes . . .

"Aren't you enjoying this event?"

"Huh?" He started guiltily.

"This event, don't you like the wrestlers?"

"I like them fine."

"So why aren't you watching?"

He smiled slightly. "I was." He said, his voice taking on a husky quality. And to his delight, she blushed.

Kit had just started toward her when a man approached from the opposite direction. He walked up behind her and said something in her ear. Then he laughed softly. She turned toward him and said something in return, also laughing. Instantly, Kit felt such a wave of jealousy wash over him, he had to stop and catch his breath. He felt weak. A moment later, the man walked away.

"Hey, Kit."

He jumped, turning to his approaching friend, Craig Wilde. "Wildman! I haven't seen you around for a while. Where're you been?"

"Up the coast." Craig sipped his drink, watching him curiously.

"Another sponsor?

He shrugged with indifference. "A man's gotta live."

"You're too good for that, Craig."

"Still not as good as you, K.T." He followed his friend's eyes. "I see you've got a new one, too."

Kit had to smile. "I'm trying. We're still in the friendship stage."

"Not the way you started at that dude just for talking to her. I'd say you were already hooked."

Kit ducked his head slightly to hide the sheepish expression on his face. "You saw that, huh?"

"You had weapons armed, man." He laughed before taking another sip from his drink. "I'd thought you swore off the young ones. This one must be special."

"What?"

He pointed with the drink in his hand. "Jeri, right?"

Jealousy again raised its ugly head. "How'd you know her name?"

"Down, boy. She works for Alex. Alex Geller. The Mane, where I get my hair done. I tried to get you to go, but you have this Samson thing."

"Jerilyn. We were talking about her."

"Yeah, well, she cuts my hair."

"And?"

"I know that she can't be too far over thirty, and that's more than ten years younger than you."

"You're lying!"

"Why?"

"She told me she was nearly forty-two."

"Then she's the liar. Alex told me her age himself, and if you don't believe him, all you got to do is open your eyes, man! Look!"

And he did. Slowly admitting to himself the truth he'd known all along.

"Sorry."

"Didn't you like the presentation?"

"Yes."

She turned to look at him. His jaw was clenched tight. "You're upset."

"No."

"Have I done something wrong?"

"I don't know, Jeri," he said, his voice harsh and impatient, "have you?"

That took her back. "I don't think so, but obviously you do."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because some time this evening you stopped talking to me in full sentences."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I have a headache, Jerilyn."

"That's original," she said with a smirk.

He glanced over to her. "Leave it alone."

She turned back around in her seat. "So, does this mean dinner's off?"

"Don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"We're closed on Mondays, remember?"

"Right."

Jeri waited until the silence became unbearable again. "Look, Kit, if your head aches too badly to be civil, maybe it'd be best if you did just take me home."

"Yeah, maybe."

And they rode the rest of the way in silence.

He stopped in front of her apartment building. "Well, goodnight."

Jeri glanced over at him. He had a death grip on the steering wheel. "I'll call you when I think you're home, just to know you got there safely." She said airily, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Don't bother. I'm a big boy, I can get myself home without you checking up on me." He snarled.

She stared at him, owl-eyed. "Well, that was rude." Grabbing the door handle, "I get the message, Mr. Faulkner," she said angrily as she started to get out.

Kit caught her arm. "Don't you dare cop an attitude with me! I'm the injured party here!"

"Injured? How?"

"You know how."

"Not when you won't talk to me!"

He took a deep breath. "OK, Jeri. I'll talk, but first, answer a question for me."

He paused. "How old are you?"

She froze. "What?"

"You heard me. How old?"

"What's that got to do with . . ."

"Just answer the question!" He snapped.

She snatched her arm away. "Obviously you know the answer."

"Tell me anyway."

"I'm going home." She tried the door again.

Kit pulled her hand away and turned her to face him. "You lied to me."

Jeri chewed on her lip a moment. "It wasn't exactly a lie."

"And what, exactly, was it then?"

"Embellishment?"

"Lie!"

"When did I tell you I was over forty?"

"When you answered the ad."

"Oh . . . well, that's just a minor technicality."

"And your interest in sports, was that an embellishment, too?"

"Just a little."

"Since when do they weigh and measure lies, Jeri?"

"Kit, any relationship is compromise. You try something I like, I try something you like."

"A relationship is also trust. Trust and honesty."

"And I haven't been dishonest, not in the precise sense of the word."

"If that isn't the biggest load of . . . I'm not going to argue semantics with you." He reached across her and opened the door. "Goodbye, Jeri."

"Goodbye?" The word came out in a squeak.

"Yeah, as in, 'So long, see ya.'"

"But we were in the middle of a discussion."

"Discussion ended."

"No, Kit, that's not fair! I can explain!"

His voice was deadly calm. "No, you can't."

"Well, couldn't you just accept my profound apology?"

"Not good enough."

"We can start over! I promise not to ever lie to you again!"

"Like I'm gonna believe you."

"But, what about us?"

"There was no us, Jerilyn. I was an embellishment."

"I tried to warn you," she whispered against her friend's hair.

"It's just not fair."

"I know."

"It hurts, Roz. It hurts so much!"

"I know."

"I want him back."

"Maybe, when he cools off."

"No, no, you didn't see his face! Why wouldn't he forgive me? It was just a teeny little lie! It's just not fair."

"Yeah, life sucks."

She looked up at Roz. "Go on, rub it in! Say 'I told you so'." She screamed.

"No, Jeri. That would be cruel."

"I shoulda listened!"

"If you'd have listened, then you wouldn't have met him."

"I wish I hadn't!"

"You don't mean that."

Jeri raised tear-reddened eyes to Roz's face. "Yeah, I do."

"You know," Jude Faulkner said calmly, her eyes on her knitting. "You can't hide here forever."

"He won't dare do anything to me here."

"You'd think you and your brothers would learn."

"We were just trying to help!"

"Kristofer doesn't think so."

"But he was so lonely."

"And he's better now? At least before his moods didn't have you cowering behind my drapes."

She came and sat beside her mother on the couch.

"But, mom, this was the one! I just know it!"

She looked over the top of her reading glasses. "So what happened?"

"I don't know!," she wailed. "For about three weeks he was bliss; smiling, humming, excited. HAPPY! Even his painting changed. More bright colors, more passion, less anger."

"Then?"

"Then, one night, I called just to ask how he was."

"And?"

"And, he threatened me."

"Dana, he's threatened you before and you lived to tell about it."

"Not like this. You didn't hear him."

"Dana . . ."

"His voice made my blood run cold."

She put her knitting aside. "Well, I don't know about you, Dana Faulkner, but I, for one, have had enough of this foolishness."

When he opened the door, she stood there randy as a bantam hen, all five feet few inches of her. Her eyes were blazing.

"Uh oh." Kit said as her stepped aside to let her in. "You used my whole name. I'm in for it now."

She grabbed him by the ears and brought him down face-to-face, giving him a shake. "Leaving your mother out in the hall, banging on a door!"

He laughed, lifting her off her feet to swing her around.

Jude let go of his ear to clutch at his shoulders. "Kristofer, you put me down! I'm angry with you!"

He twirled her again, laughing.

She swatted at his shoulders. "Did you hear me?"

He kissed her soundly and put her back on her feet. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't you, 'yes, ma'am', me!" She swatted his backside, hard. "Get out of my way! You made me dizzy with all your foolishness!" She navigated to the couch, with his help, and sat down. "Didn't you hear me knock?"

He looked slightly sheepish. "I thought you were somebody else."

"Like who? Not Dana! She's trembling behind my living room drapes."

"Good."

"Not good! What did you say to her?"

"Nothing I haven't said before, but I meant it this time. She and Keenan both! And Janine and Tony! It's time they learned to mind their own business."

"The family is their business. They didn't mean any harm."

"They should stay out of my private affairs."

"You mean like you stay out of theirs?"

"That was different." He said sullenly. "I'm the oldest."

She laughed out loud at that one. "So that automatically gives you license to meddle? How many times have you 'fixed' your brothers up with the right woman for them? And poor Dana and Janine, how many prospective beaus have you and your brothers sent running for the hills?"

"Aw, mom . . ."

"I know you all are grown and have your own lives, but Dana's really scared."

His jaw tightened stubbornly. "She oughta be."

"Why? Because she tried to find her brother 'the right woman'?"

"She took out a classified!"

"Isn't that the way they do it now a days?"

"Not me!"

"Well, you weren't doing so well on your own, were you, Mr. Hotshot?"

His reply was a grumbled, "Not you, too."

"And, from what your sister tells, this woman seems perfect. So, what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I just don't, OK?"

"Not OK!" She reached over, took his earlobe between her index finger and thumb and squeezed. "Out with it!"

"Ow, mom! I hate when you do that!"

"So talk!"

"She lied to me, OK!"

"Who?"

"Jerilyn."

She let him go. "That's her name?"

"Yes." He massaged his bruised lobe.

"What kind of name is this for a young woman?"

"As if the name Dana brings soft feminine things to mind?"

"Your father thought so."

"Well, she's named after her father, Gerald."

"Well, thank God for small favors. Her name could've been Geralda or Jerry Mae."

Kit looked stunned for a moment, then became slightly angry. "That's not funny, mom."

"No, but see, you came to her defense."

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did."

He paused. "Well, maybe I did, just a little."

"And when you didn't answer the door, you thought it was this Jerilyn, didn't you?"

He had the grace to look uncomfortable, and guilty.

"Kristofer, you're a hypocrite!"

"What?"

"And malicious."

"I'm not . . ."

"And vindictive!"

"Mom, look . . ."

"What could she have done that was so wrong?"

"She lied to me."

"Like you never lie."

"Not about anything important.

She gave him a knowing look. "I seem to remember an incident when you were five years old . . ."

He held up his hands in defense. "Not the baseball story!"

"All right, there was this time when you were seven . . ."

"The dog really did break that lamp!"
"And when you were ten . . . twelve . . . sixteen . . . twenty . . . And these are just lies I know about. Should I go on?"

"Small lies, mom."

"Since when do they weigh and measure lies, Kit?"

Where had he heard that before? When your words come back to haunt you, admit defeat. He looked disgusted. "I'm not gonna win this, am I?"

Jude smiled. "No."

"You really think I'm wrong on this, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Mom, she lied to me."

She took his face in her hands. "Are you perfect?"

"No, of course not."

"So flaws are reasons to stop loving someone?"

"Who said I loved her?"

"You did. Would you get this angry if you didn't?"

"I just met her."

"And?"

He grunted, noncommittally. "She's too young for me."

She released him with a disgusted noise. "Now you're an old man? Just how old is this Jerilyn?"

"Almost as young as Dana."

"Ten years? You're grousing because of ten years?" She pinched his earlobe again. "Your father, god rest his soul, was fifteen years older my senior and we lived happily for more years than I can count."

"And when he died . . . "

"When he died, I mourned him, but I wouldn't change anything. Not anything, Kit." She released him. "Excuses! My son's mouth is full of excuses. You know what you are? You're a coward. That's right, a coward! I say you smelled orange blossoms and you turned tail and ran."

"First you have me in love. Now I'm married. I don't want to saddle myself with her. I want to . . ." he sputtered for a moment. "Put her over my knee and paddle the daylights out of her."

"Then do it."

"What?"

She leaned over and picked up the telephone. "Do it." She handed it to him. "Call her. You have to get your hands on her first."

"That's call 'battery'. If convicted, you do jail-time for it, mom."

She shrugged. "I'll call Mable's son, the lawyer, you'll plead temporary insanity. He'll get you off with a couple of months of psychiatric evaluation."

He looked at his mother as if she'd lost her mind, but took the telephone from her hands and began dialing the number.

Jeri answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

Did she sound tired? "I think we should talk." He said without preamble.

There was a slight pause. "Who is this?" She asked coolly.

"You know who this is!"

"Do I? Who did you want to speak to?"

"You're not funny, Jerilyn."

Now there was a long pause.

He waited, then, said through clenched teeth. "This is Kit."

A shorter pause. "Why?"

Having lost the thread of the conversation, he could only reply, "What?"

"Why should we talk?"

"At least you owe me an apology."

"I did apologize, several times."

"An explanation, then."

"And I tried to explain, but you didn't want to hear."

"I'm listening now."

"Good, listen to this!"

Kit's ear was still ringing from the crash of the receiver in its cradle. He stared at the phone in his hand like it was a snake.

"What did she say?"

Kit gently replaced the receiver. "Nothing." He said softly.

Jude knew that tone. He was livid. "She didn't want to talk?"

"No."

"And she didn't agree to meet."

"You can say that."

"So that's that."

"I guess so."

"You're satisfied it's over?"

"Uh huh."

He was still staring at the telephone.

"So, do you want to go out to eat?" Jude waited. "Kristofer?" His eyes still on the telephone. She called his name louder. "Kristofer!"

"What!" He snapped, obviously annoyed. Looking up just as she blinked in astonishment. "Sorry, mom."

"I'm going home now." She stood.

"I said I was sorry. I wasn't snapping at you." He stood with her. "You don't have to rush off."

"Right." She gathered her things.

He led her to the door. "Really, mom, we can go have dinner or something." He stopped, stunned at the look on her face. "What?"

She shook her head in exasperation.

"What?"

She pulled him down to her face and kissed him. "Always remember, that as imperfect as you are. I love you. Always have and always will. But two people love, well, that's special and only comes around once in a lifetime. A shame to just throw it away. Isn't it?" Then she was gone.

"Is Jerilyn home?"

She cocked a brow. "That depends on who's asking."

"Kit."

"The same Kit who broke her heart?"

"I broke her heart?"

"Into a hundred-thousand pieces."

Kit frowned. "Are you serious?"

"I'd never lie about a thing like this."

"I didn't know."

"You didn't want to know."

He lifted one shoulder briefly. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So, what do you want now?"

"I'd like to talk to her."

"I don't think she wants to see you."

"Yeah, but this is important."

"I guess I should warn you, she's mad enough to do bodily harm."

"I'll take my chances."

"She won't like this."

"She'll get over it."

"You're not going to try to make it all better, are you?"

He looked hopeful. "Think I have a chance?"

"A snowball's chance in hell."

Kit smiled. "I like those odds."

"You're as crazy as she is." Roz shrugged. "Well, it's your funeral." She stepped aside and let him in.

Once in, Kit turned back. "Tell me one thing. Why'd she lie to me?"

"About what?"

"Her age."

"What'd she tell you?"

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I was too mad to listen to her."

"Yeah, well, I shouldn't be telling you this. Hell, I shouldna let you in." She paused. "Jeri's been having trouble with men her own age. Immature, irresponsible, inconsiderate. She thought an older man would be different."

Kit watched the expression on her face. "And I proved her wrong?"

"Just at the end. She took your break up really hard. And the fact that you wouldn't listen to her, or forgive her . . . well."

"How hard?"

Roz laughed. "Well, if you're serious about talking to her face-to-face, be prepared to block."

"Roz, who're you talking to?" Jeri walked into the room and stopped cold. "You let him in? After I told you not to, you let him in?"

"He's bigger than me, Jeri."

"Jerilyn, just give me a minute to explain."

"No! Get out!"

"Not until you hear what I have to say."

"I'm not listening to you! Why should I? You didn't listen to me!"

"Well, that's my clue." Roz grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

"Traitor! You come back here!"

But she was gone. Jeri spun to face Kit. "You get out!"

"Come on, Jerilyn, we need to talk."

"Now, Kristofer, or I won't be responsible."

"Jeri . . ."

She swung at him, spinning herself around. Kit caught her by the waist, lifting her off her feet. "Come on, Jeri, talk to me." He remembered almost a second too late about Roz's warning to block. "Jeri!" This time there was warning in his voice. He adjusted his grip, turning his body to protect himself. "Jeri!"

She squirmed frantically, trying to reach any part of him to claw, kick, bite or puncture. "Let me go!"

"You're kidding." He moved his shin just in time to avoid her foot. "You really think I'm stupid."

"Damn it! Get your hands off me!" She twisted, trying to bite his forearm.

"That'll be enough of that, lady." He squeezed her hard. "Now are you going to calm down enough to have a rational conversation?"

She butted her hip into his groin, sending them off balance and spilling both over the couch. Kit caught himself before they rolled off into the sharp edges of the cocktail table and brought her back into his lap.

"Jeri, you're being childish." Kit grunted as her elbow caught his rib. He adjusted her again, catching her flailing legs between his thighs. "I'm not going to fight you." He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. "Are you going to stop this foolishness and listen to me?"

"NO!"

"Jeri." He tightened his grip again. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Again!" She cried when he eased his grip so she could breathe. "You don't want to hurt me again! And why not? You did it pretty easily the first time!"

"Yes, and I wanted to say I was sorry for that."

"Sorry? Is that all?" She renewed her struggling. "Well, I don't accept your apology! Now let me go!"

"Why not?"

"Why should I? You didn't accept mine!"

"And that was a mistake, Jeri! Will you listen to me?"

"NO!" She screamed, near tears.

"You're being unreasonable!"

"Let me go!"

"Fine." He released her.

Both of them got to their feet simultaneously, face-to-face, breathing hard. Then she slapped him.

Stunned, Kit raised his hand to his cheek. "Feel better?"

"No." She slapped the other side of his face. "Almost . . ."

Jeri drew back to slap him again, but he caught her hand inches from his face. He pulled her to him with a jerk of her arm and kissed her hard, hot, long and possessively. When he released her again, she staggered back, dazed and breathless. She snatched her wrist from his grip.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." He warned when she raised her hand again.

"I'm the injured party here, don't you threaten me."

"No threat, Jeri," he said with deadly calm.

"What're you gonna do, kiss me again?"

"If you want kissing, just ask. Slap me again, and you'll find yourself face down across my knees."

Her eyes went wide. "You wouldn't!"

Kit shrugged.

The conceited look on his face made her throw caution to the wind. "You're not man enough!"

Then he smiled. "Aww, Jeri," he said, shaking his head sadly, "bad move, babe." He caught her up around the waist and flung her over his shoulder.

She squealed as he carried her back to the couch. "No, Kit!"

"But you dared me." He sat and started to arrange her across his lap.

"It was a mistake!"

"Yeah, a big one."

Jeri sat up, flung her arms around his neck and hung on. "Wait! Let's talk about this!"

"Now you want to talk?" He pulled at her arms.

"What if I accepted your apology?"

He pulled again. "I'd say thank you."

Jeri tightened her hold. "What if I kissed you? Made up?"

"Fine with me. I'd kiss you back."

So she kissed him. Jeri pulled out all the stops, putting all her desperation and passion behind it. Kit returned it, energy for energy.

"You know," he said, when he could breathe again. "I'd hate to think this was a bribe."

Jeri was feeling dazed and confused herself. "Bribe?"

"To save yourself from a spanking you know you deserve."

She looked both guilty and hopeful.

Kit didn't have the heart to burst her bubble. "Think you can manage not to lie to me from now on?"

She pressed her right hand over her heart, raising her left hand. "Never again."

He looked skeptical. "Why don't I believe you?"

"And you think you can have a meaningful relationship with someone my age?"

"Maybe. The first thing is to establish some ground rules." He slid her off his lap and placed her beside him on his right side. "Agreed?"

She nodded vigorously. "I want this to work, Kit." She said, earnestly.

"Good, so do I. The first thing to learn is honesty."

"I promised to be honest."

"And I almost believe you, Jeri." He half-turned, clasping her by her upper arms, and pulled her across his lap, placing his left arm across the small of her back to anchor her.

"Kit! I won't lie again! I swear!"

"OK, Jeri, but there're a few more things we need to clear up. And you did dare me. Right?"

"Wait! Wait! I take it back."

"That's funny, Jeri. A sense of humor, even now."

She kicked her legs, struggling to free herself. "But I thought we'd made up!"

"We have." He began pushing her skirt up to her waist.

"I thought you weren't angry anymore!"

"If I were angry, I wouldn't be talking at all."

"Then why!" She wailed.

"I want to make sure you remember."

"I will, Kit!"

He tapped her bottom lightly. "All right."

"But you're supposed to stop now!"

"Oh?" He tapped her bottom again, this time harder. "Why?"

"What does this accomplish?"

"Well, it makes me feel a hell of a whole lot better." This time he swatted in earnest.

She yelped, squirming frantically. "To brutalize me?"

He swatted her sharply, then chuckled again. "This is brutal?"

"Yes!" she covered her bottom with her hand.

He grabbed her wrist and moved her hand up to her waist. "So, this," he swatted her sharply, "is brutal?"

"Yes!"

"And this," he smacked her bottom hard enough to make his own hand sting, "is brutal?"

"Yes!," she screamed louder, bucking wildly.

"Well, which one is it? This?" He spanked her hard. "Or this?" He spanked her harder.

"Both!"

"Why?"

"Because you hit me! No one has ever hit me before!"

"So, I'm brutal, because I hit you?" SWAT! "Here?" SWAT!

Tears began to form in her eyes. "Yes!"

Kit brought his hand down four more times, hard and in rapid succession. Then sat her up, pulling her into his lap. He wrapped her up in his arms. "That little spanking was just to get your attention and bring my point home." He settled her under his chin. "There've been times Dana, Janine, Tony and Keenan have made me so mad, they couldn't sit for days after one."

She sniffed back tears and tried to pull away. "Who're they?"

"Younger sisters and brothers. They've called me brutal, too." His hand was making soothing circles over her back and arms. Just a little pressure applied to the back of her neck, slowly brought her closer and closer to him.

"So you beat them, too?"

"I've had occasion to take them over my knee, yes." He settled her head beneath his chin, still soothing her with his hands.

"How old are they?"

"Dana's a little younger than you. Keenan'll be twenty soon. Janine's twenty-six and Tony's almost thirty."

She squirmed as his hands moved lower on her back. The one around her stilled her motion. She sighed. "That's a little old for spanking," even the word made her blush, "don't you think?"

"No." He nuzzled her neck with his lips, taking tiny nips along her jugular and soothing them with his tongue.

She tried to stifle a moan, half-succeeding, then murmured. "I think so."

He chuckled, working his way lazily down her neck, over her shoulder, nudging her sweater aside. "So do they."

"But you don't let that stop you."

Kit laughed under his breath. "Hardly." He found her nipple and brought it into his mouth, gently suckling.

She groaned and bowed her back, baring her chest to him, making small noises of pleasure.

As he felt her relax to the sensations, he bore her back on the couch, following her body until he lay across her, never releasing her nipple from the warm cavern of his mouth, never halting the rough lapping of his tongue against the taunt, brown bud.

With his left hand, he began working the waist band of her panties down. She mewed in protest and he looked up into her eyes. "What is it?" He asked, his voice rough with desire.

"I . . ."

"Don't want me to?"

She blushed. "I don't know."

One side of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "You still upset about the spanking." He drew her bikinis off with one motion, his hand coming back to rest on her bottom. He started stroking. "This is your way of getting even?"

"No, I . . . I'm just upset."

"How upset?"
She hesitated, savoring his hands on her. "I'd accept an apology."

"I'm not sorry." With both hands on her bottom, he pulled her down, beneath him.

"A promise you won't do it again?" She had to struggle to follow her own train of thought.

"Whether I do or not is up to you."

Why did his hands have to feel so good? What were they talking about? "Me? Why?"

"Stay out of trouble, stay from across my knee."

She drew back slightly. "What?"

Kristofer pulled her back to him. "Spankings are not negotiable, Jeri. Misbehave and you'll get it. Be good." He began sliding out his clothes. "And I guarantee." She felt him shift and heard cellophane tear. "You'll love the rewards."

That proved to be an understatement.

Jeri smiled fondly at her sister-in-law. At times like these she seemed even younger. "And what do you want me to say?" She asked her gently.

"Tell him it was only a joke."

"He didn't think it was funny."

"He has absolutely no sense of humor." She grumbled. "Talk to him. He'll listen to you!"

Jeri had to laugh. "If I can't save myself, how can I save you?"

Her sister-in-law crumbled. "You're right."

"Why not just get it over with?"
The look Jeri received asked if she'd lost her mind.

"You had to know what would happen. It's not like he changed."

"But he has! Since he met you, he's gentler. You're good for him."

Jeri patted the mound of her belly affectionately. "He's been rather good for me, too."

Her sister-in-law looked at her watch and jumped up, grabbing her purse. "Well, gotta go." She kissed Jeri briskly on the cheek.

"Are you coming to the baby shower?"

"Will he be there?"

Jeri laughed. "No."

"Then, yes."

And she was out the door.

Not ten minutes later the door opened again.

"Was that Dana's car peeling rubber out our driveway?" Kit leaned down and kissed Jeri thoroughly and possessively.

"If she'd left any faster, there'd be scorch marks on the floor.

He rested his hand lovingly on her stomach as he sat next to her, pulling her close. He laughed as he nuzzled her hair.

"You like seeing her like this, don't you?"

He laughed again. "Yes."

"Kristofer Faulkner."

His smile broadened. "You sound like mom, but you forgot Timothy."

"Let her off the hook."

"Anticipation makes revenge sweeter."

"I'm afraid this silly game you're playing will keep her from the christening."

"I won't let it go on much longer."

"So you're not going to . . ."

He pulled her into his lap. "Maybe you should worry about yourself." He growled as he pulled her blouse off her shoulder so he could kiss it.

"What'd I do?"

"Well, pestering me about Dana, for one."

She put her arms around his neck. "Then she's on her own."