She swallowed hard. He pulled open the top snap on his jeans and pushed the zipper down a scant few inches, revealing his flat abdomen. And then he rested his hand lightly on the slide, waiting for her. She eased the silky shells off her breasts, delicately arching her back so he could look his fill. Now he was the one who swallowed hard.

"The jeans, soldier boy," she whispered.

He pulled the zipper down the rest of the way, then tucked both his thumbs inside the waistband, snagging the jeans and his briefs together, and slid them off. He finally stood naked before her.

Without any pretense of shyness, she looked her fill. He was hard and proud, sleek and shiny and beautiful. She let her head drift back on the pillows, her hair spilling out in a corona around her, and watched him as he walked to the side of the bed. Reaching down with his index finger, he stroked a long line from her throat to the top of the triangle of her panties. "Open the ties," he ordered.

"You do it," she replied.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached toward one of the satin ribbons. She stilled his hand. "With your mouth."

He chuckled, then leaned over and did as she had ordered. As he pulled the silky triangle from between her legs, he kissed her and then began stroking the insides of her thighs. She took off on an exploratory mission of her own, her hand greedy to touch him. After a few minutes, he groaned and broke away to reach into the drawer of the bedside table. When he turned his back to her, she laughed and lifted herself up on her knees to nuzzle his neck. "Never send a man to do a woman's job," she whispered. Reaching around him, she took over his task, dallying and teasing until his skin was damp with perspiration.

"Damn, Francie," he said huskily, "you keep on like that and you're not going to get anything out of this encounter but a boring memory."

She smiled and slipped back onto the pillows, parting her legs for him. "Somehow I doubt that."

He took advantage of what she was offering him, tormenting her with expert caresses until she begged him to stop, and then kissing her breathless. When he finally entered her, she dug her hands into his hips and cried out. He reared up, driving himself deeper. They began talking in breathless little words.

"Please…"

"So good…"

"Yes… hard…"

"Sweet…"

Each was accustomed to being a cool lover-considerate, giving, but always in control. Now they were hot and wet, strung out on passion, oblivious to everything but the mad cry of one beautiful body

reaching out for the other. They came, seconds apart, spilling open in gushing, noisy abandonment,

filling the air with cries, moans, and breathless obscenities.

Afterward, neither could have said who was the more embarrassed.

Chapter 29

They ate a tense meal, with both of them cracking jokes that weren't all that funny. Then they went

back to bed and made love again. With their mouths glued together and their bodies joined, they couldn't talk, but talking was something neither of them wanted to do much of. They slept restlessly, waking in

the wee hours to find that they still hadn't gotten enough of each other.

"How many times was that?" Dallie groaned after they were finished.

She nuzzled closer under his chin. "Uh-four, I think."

He kissed the top of her head and muttered, "Francie, I don't think this fire burning between us is going

to be as easy to put out as we figured."

It was past eight the next morning before either of them stirred. Francesca stretched lazily and Dallie pulled her close for a cuddle. They were just beginning to fool around a little when they heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Dallie cussed under his breath. Francesca jerked her head toward the door and then watched in alarm as the knob began to turn. An ugly vision flashed through her mind of an army of Dallie's old girlfriends stalking in, each with a house key dangling from her fingers. "Oh, God…" She couldn't help it. She slid down beneath the covers and pulled the sheet over her head. At that exact moment, she heard the door open.

Dallie sounded mildly exasperated. "For Pete's sake, couldn't you even knock?"

"I was afraid I'd spill my coffee. I hope that's Francie under there or I'm going to be embarrassed."

"As a matter of fact, it's not Francie," Dallie said. "And you should be embarrassed."

The mattress sagged as Holly Grace settled down on the side of the bed, her hips brushing against Francesca's calves. The faint fragrance of coffee penetrated the sheet.

"The least you could do was bring me a cup, too," Dallie complained.

Holly Grace apologized. "I wasn't thinking; I've got a lot on my mind. You were kidding, weren't you, about that not being Francie under there?"

Dallie patted Francesca's hip through the covers. "You stay right there, Rosalita honey. This crazy person'll be gone in a few minutes."

Holly Grace tugged on the top of the sheet. "Francie, I need to talk to both of you."

Francesca clutched the sheet tighter and muttered something in Spanish about turning left at the corner

to get to the post office. Dallie chuckled.

"Come on, Francie, I know it's you," Holly Grace said. "Your underwear's all over the floor-what there is of it."

Francesca saw no graceful way out. With as much dignity as possible, she lowered the sheet to her chin and glared at Holly Grace, who sat on the edge of the bed wearing old jeans and a Cowboys sweat shirt. "What do you want?" she demanded. "For three days you've refused to talk to me. Why did you have to pick this morning to get chatty?"

"I needed some time to think."

"Couldn't you have chosen a more appropriate place to meet?" Francesca asked. Next to her, Dallie leaned up against the headboard, sipping Holly Grace's coffee and looking as relaxed as ever. As the only person lying down, Francesca suddenly realized she had put herself at a disadvantage. Anchoring the sheet under her arms, she swallowed her embarrassment and pushed herself up until she was sitting, too.

"Want a sip?" Dallie asked, holding out the coffee mug.

She pushed her hair out of her face and thanked him with exaggerated politeness, determined to out-casual them both. As she took the mug, Holly Grace stood and walked toward the window, her

hands jumping from her front pockets to her rear pockets. Watching the gesture, Francesca realized that her friend was a lot more nervous than she pretended. As she looked more closely, she saw telltale signs of tension in the set of Holly Grace's shoulders.

Holly Grace played with the edge of the drapery. "See, the thing of it is-this situation that's happened between the two of you has sort of gotten in the way of some plans I made."

"What situation?" Francesca inquired defensively.

"What plans?" Dallie asked.

Holly Grace turned. "Francie, you've got to understand that none of this has anything to do with disapproval. I've been telling you for years that you missed out on one of life's great opportunities by not spending more time in bed with Dallas Beaudine."

"Holly Grace!" Francesca protested.

"Thanks, honey," Dallie said.

Francesca realized they were starting to get the best of her again, and she took a slow, calming sip of coffee. Holly Grace wandered to the foot of the bed and gazed at her ex-husband. "Dallie, my biological clock is about to hit midnight. I kept thinking that sooner or iater I'd find somebody I wanted to marry. For a while I even hoped Gerry and I- Anyway, I planned to settle down and let the 'China Colt' producers shoot me from the chest up every few seasons while I had a couple of babies. But lately I've realized that's a fantasy and the thing of it is… I've got an ache inside me." She walked around to Francesca's side of the bed, hugging herself as if she were cold.

Francesca saw the sadness in her friend's beautiful, proud features, and she could guess what it had cost Holly Grace to be so open about her need for a child. She passed the coffee mug off to Dallie and patted the bed beside her. "Sit down, Holly Grace, and tell me what's wrong."

Holly Grace sat, her blue eyes locking with Francesca's green ones. "You know how much I want to

have a baby, Francie, and I guess everything that's happened with Teddy has made me think about it even more. I'm tired of only being able to love other people's kids; I want my own. Dallie's been telling me for years not to wrap all my happiness up in a dollar bill, and I guess I've finally realized that he's right."

Francesca reached out and touched her arm sympathetically. She wished Gerry hadn't flown home yesterday, although after three days of trying unsuccessfully to get Holly Grace to talk to him, she didn't blame him. "When you get back to New York, you and Gerry need to get together. I know you love

him, and he loves you, and-"

"Forget about Gerry!" she retorted. "He's Peter Pan. He won't ever grow up. Gerry's made it perfectly clear that he wants to marry me. But he's also made it clear that he won't give me any children."

"You never told me anything about that," Dallie said, obviously surprised at this revelation.

"You and Gerry have to start being open with each other," Francesca insisted.

"I won't beg." Holly Grace straightened, trying to keep her dignity. "I'm financially independent, I'm at least semi-mature, and I don't see any reason in the world why I have to shackle myself in marriage just to have a child. Only I need your help."

"I'll do anything I can, you know that. After the way you helped me when-"

"Will you lend me Dallie?" Holly Grace asked abruptly.

Dallie shot up in bed. "Now, wait a minute here!"