LITMIR.BIZ

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men, Trey’s heart stepped out onto the romantic-risk-taking high-dive and took the plunge. “Good. Because I have a proposition for you.”

      “Is this the part where I save your life?”

      “Pretty much. If you’re willing, that is.”

      “As long as it doesn’t include a stalled elevator, I probably am.”

      “I can guarantee there are no elevators, stuck or otherwise, involved. In fact, I’m not even sure there’s a building in Southwood with an elevator.”

      “Southwood?”

      “My hometown. Just west of here.”

      “That’s right. Now I remember. I’m still trying to figure out why I’ve never heard of it, though, if it’s that close to Atlanta.”

      “No reason why you should have. We didn’t produce any Confederate generals or Olympic medalists. Just a dusty little town planning a big celebration.”

      “I see. Of what?”

      “My high-school class reunion. Our tenth, even though it was actually twelve years ago.”

      “I wish I could say that made sense.”

      “So do I, but that’s Southwood for you. It’s a long story.”

      “Let me guess. You need a date, right?”

      “Worse. Or better, depending on how you look at it. I need a wife and a child.”

      Silence ensued. Trey held his breath, not knowing if he should say something to assure her he wasn’t joking, or if he should just wait and see what her reaction would be.

      “You’re not going to tell me this is some sort of crazy scavenger hunt, are you?” she said a moment later.

      Trey grinned. “No. But you may wish that before I’m done here.”

      “Wow. Sounds really intriguing. Go ahead. I’m listening.”

      Trey exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Intrigue may not be the half of it. And I don’t like asking you this over the phone, but—”

      “But your life needs to be saved and I owe you, right?”

      “Yes and no. Yes my life needs to be saved. And no I don’t feel that you owe me. I meant this to be—I just thought maybe—Oh, hell, never mind, Cinda. Look, I’m sorry. Forget it. This didn’t sound so nuts to me the other day when I called you with this idea of mine. But now, hearing it out loud and asking you, or trying to ask you, well, it sounds stupid. Just never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you. I can go by my—”

      “Wait, Trey. Give me a chance here. I didn’t say no, did I? Just tell me what’s going on, and we’ll go from there.”

      Hope bloomed in his heart. “You sure?”

      She chuckled. “I think I am. Maybe.”

      “An open mind. That’s a good beginning. So, here’s the deal…” Trey launched into his predicament, hitting the highlights, as if there were any, of his upcoming reunion weekend and what role he needed her and Chelsi to play. He worked hard to make it sound sane and logical when, in fact, it was neither. He didn’t tell her about Rocco Diamante, though, thinking there was no reason to needlessly scare her. If the man showed up and made trouble, Trey would call his friend, the police chief, and then get Cinda, the baby, and his mother out of town. But, still, the longer he talked, the more he was convinced Cinda would not only say no, but she would probably also hang up on him and change her phone number.

      But finally, he was through telling his tale. “So, what do you think? You don’t have to say yes, Cinda. Seriously. No harm, no foul. Because I think it’s a crazy plan, and it’s my plan.” She didn’t say anything. Trey sighed. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

      “No. I probably should, but I don’t. You know what? It sounds fun and crazy. And maybe that’s exactly what I need right now. So…yes, Trey Cooper, I’ll do it. Well, we’ll do it—Chelsi and I.”

      Trey bolted to his feet, narrowly avoiding colliding with his coffee table, and paced excitedly across the carpet. “You will? You’ll be my wife?”

      There was a moment’s hesitation. “Well, let’s keep our heads here. I’m saying that I’ll be your wife and Chelsi will be your daughter…but only for that one weekend, of course.”

      “Yeah. Of course,” Trey echoed. “One weekend. That’s all I need.”

      He just wished he could be sure about that. Because he wasn’t. Not at all. And that couldn’t be good.

      5

      JUST AFTER NOON on the following Saturday, Cinda waited nervously for Trey’s arrival at her Atlanta home. His high-school reunion was the next weekend, the Fourth of July, so she’d invited him over to discuss the details of their ruse and to allow him and Chelsi to get acquainted. After all, it wouldn’t do to pose as a loving couple with a young baby if the baby would have nothing to do with her “father.”

      But those combined reasons, while valid, weren’t the whole truth. Cinda forced herself to admit that she wanted to see Trey Cooper and couldn’t wait another week to do so. She wanted to know if he could still affect her as he had that January day in the elevator. The evidence—her never-ending thoughts of him, her incredible excitement that he had finally called, and her giddiness at the prospect of seeing him again—already pointed to the fact that he could, he would, and he did.

      As if that weren’t enough to stress over, Cinda feared that she wasn’t yet ready to act on that speeding bullet of awareness between them. It could turn out that she just thought she was ready and that she’d back off when—if—things heated up between her and Trey. And if she let it get that far and then backed off? Well, it wouldn’t be fair to him. Or to herself. So here she was, not completely in touch with her emotions beyond the recognition of a confused mishmash of desire and restraint.

      And none of that altered the fact that Trey was due at any moment. Cinda had already changed outfits—hers and the baby’s—no less than four times. Right now she had on a new flower-sprigged sundress, but she had yet to call it her final decision. Nor was she satisfied with Chelsi’s outfit. But her daughter wore a mutinous expression that promised a tantrum of diva proportions should her mother try yet again to poke her chubby arms and legs through one more article of complicated baby clothing.

      Respecting Chelsi’s stubbornly poked-out bottom lip, Cinda dropped the dress issue and set about making everyone else in the house miserable. With Chelsi in her arms, and with Major Clovis on their heels, Cinda now flitted through every room of the two-story Southern Colonial mansion, conducting an inspection tour. She told herself she simply needed to make certain everything was cleaned and straightened. She wanted to make a good impression. Was that so awful? She stopped in the richly decorated, sunny formal living room and looked around appraisingly.

      “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Major Clovis said, “but we didn’t go to this much trouble for the IG’s visit back during my days in the military.”

      “The IG?” Cinda asked distractedly, balancing Chelsi carefully while fluffing a throw pillow on the sofa. “What’s an IG?”

      “Inspector General, ma’am.” Major Clovis put the pillow back where it had been. “A high mucketymuck with the power to make your life a living meat grinder if he found so much as one speck of dirt on the ground outside.”

      Pinched by the comparison, Cinda began to feel a bit surly. “I hardly think I’m going that far. And I wouldn’t define Mr. Cooper as a mucketymuck. I just want everything to be nice for his visit.”

      “I understand. I believe the barracks will pass muster, ma’am. I hired three extra maids for this major field day.”

      Long ago Cinda had given

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