"No, I'll talk to people." He looked ready to take a bite out of something. "But I guess there's a chance if I can't find anyone until the ad's out. Not a big chance, but I suppose it could happen."

She sat on the glider. "I guess you'll be running a B &B until then."

He narrowed his eyes. "You seem to have forgotten that you took a vow to support me."

"I did not!"

"Did you pay any attention to those wedding vows you were saying?"

"I tried not to," she admitted. "I'm not in the habit of making promises I know I'm not going to keep."

"Neither am I, and so far I've kept my word."

"To love, honor, and obey? I don't think so."

"Those weren't the vows we took." He tucked his hands under his arms and watched her.

She tried to figure out what he was talking about, but her only memories of the ceremony were of the poodles and the way she'd held on to Andrew's sticky little hand for dear life. A sense of uneasiness crept through her. "Maybe you'd better refresh my memory."

"I'm talking about the vows Phoebe wrote for us," he said quietly. "Are you sure she didn't mention it to you?"

She'd mentioned it, but Molly'd been so miserable she hadn't paid attention. "I guess I wasn't listening."

"Well, I was. I even fixed a couple of the sentences to make them more realistic. Now, I might not have this exactly right-you can call your sister to verify-but the gist of it is that you, Molly, promised to accept me, Kevin, as your husband, at least for a while. You promised to give me your respect and consideration from that day forward. Notice there was no mention of love and honor. You promised not to speak badly of me to others." He eyed her. "And to support me in everything we share together."

Molly bit her lip. It was just like Phoebe to have written something like that. Of course she'd done it to protect the baby.

She pulled herself together. "Okay, you're a great quarterback. I can do the respect part. And if you don't count Phoebe, Dan, and Roo, I never speak badly of you to others."

"My eyes are tearing up from emotion. How about the other part? That 'support' thing?"

"That was supposed to be about-You know what it was about." She blinked her eyes and took a deep breath. "Phoebe certainly wasn't trying to force me into helping you run a B &B."

"Don't forget the cottages, and a sacred vow is just that."

"You kidnapped me yesterday, and now you're trying to manipulate me into forced labor!"

"It'll only be for a couple of days. A week at the most. Or maybe that's too much to ask from a rich girl."

"This is your problem, not mine."

He stared at her for a long moment, then that cold look settled over his face. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Kevin wasn't someone who asked for help easily, and she regretted her peevishness, but she couldn't be around people now. Still, she should have been more tactful about refusing him. "I just-I haven't been in great shape lately, and-"

"Forget it," he snapped. "I'll manage on my own." He stalked across the porch and out through the back door.

She stomped around the cottage for a while, feeling ugly and out of sorts. He'd brought in her suitcase. She unzipped it, only to go back out on the porch and stare at the lake.

Those wedding vows… She'd been prepared to break the traditional ones. Even couples who loved each other had a hard time living up to those. But these vows-the ones Phoebe had written-were different. These were vows that an honorable person should be able to keep.

Kevin had.

"Damn."

Roo looked up.

"I don't want to be with a lot of people now, that's all."

But she wasn't telling herself the whole truth. She mainly didn't want to be around him.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was five o'clock.

With a grimace she gazed down at her poodle. "I'm afraid we have some personal character building to do."

Ten guests had gathered in the buttercup and rose parlor for afternoon tea, but somehow Molly couldn't imagine Victoria magazine giving the occasion its seal of approval. The inlaid table at the side of the room held an open bag of Oreos, a can of grape Hi-C, a coffeepot, Styrofoam cups, and a jar that looked as if it contained powdered tea. Despite the fare, the guests seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The bird-watching Pearsons stood behind a pair of elderly women perched on the pincushion settee. Across the room two white-haired couples chatted. The women's gnarled fingers flashed with old diamonds and newer anniversary rings. One of the men had a walrus mustache, the other lime green golf slacks with white patent leather shoes. Another couple was younger, in their early fifties perhaps, prosperous baby boomers who could have stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad. It was Kevin, however, who dominated the room. As he stood by the fireplace, he looked so much like the lord of the manor that his shorts and Stars T-shirt might have been jodhpurs and a riding jacket.

"… so the president of the United States is sitting on the fifty-yard line, the Stars are down by four points, there are only seven seconds left on the clock, and I'm pretty sure I just sprained the heck out of my knee."

"That must have been painful," the boomer woman cooed.

"You don't notice the pain until later."

"I remember this game!" her husband exclaimed. "You hit Tippett on a fifty-yard post pattern, and the Stars won by three."

Kevin shook his head modestly. "I got lucky, Chet."

Molly rolled her eyes. Nobody made it to the top of the NFL trusting in luck. Kevin had gotten where he was by being the best. His good ol' boy act might charm the guests, but she knew the truth.

Still, as she watched him she knew she was seeing self-discipline in action, and she begrudgingly gave him her respect. No one suspected he hated being here. She'd forgotten that he was a minister's son, but she shouldn't have. Kevin was a man who did his duty, even though he hated it. Just as he'd done when he'd married her.

"I can't believe it," Mrs. Chet cooed. "When we chose a bed-and-breakfast in the wilds of northeastern Michigan, we never imagined our host would be the famous Kevin Tucker."

Kevin graced her with his aw-shucks expression. Molly wanted to tell her not to bother flirting with him, since she didn't have a foreign accent.

"I'd love to hear your take on the draft." Chet readjusted the navy cotton sweater he'd tossed around the shoulders of his kelly green polo shirt.

"How about the two of us share a beer out on the front porch later on tonight?"

"I wouldn't mind joining you," walrus mustache interjected, while lime green pants nodded in agreement.

"We'll all do it," Kevin said graciously.

John Pearson polished off the last of the Oreos. "Now that Betty and I know you personally, we'll have to start following the Stars. You, uh, wouldn't happen to have located one of Judith's lemon-poppy seed cakes in the freezer, would you?"

"I have no idea," Kevin said. "And that reminds me, I'd better apologize in advance for tomorrow's breakfast. Pancakes from a mix is the best I can do, so if you decide to leave, I'll understand. That offer for double your refund still stands."

"We wouldn't think about leaving such a charming place." Mrs. Chet gave Kevin a look that had adultery written all over it. "And don't worry about breakfast. I'll be glad to pitch in."

Molly did her part to protect the Ten Commandments by forcing herself out of the doorway and into the room. "That won't be necessary. I know Kevin wants you to relax while you're here, and I think I can promise that the food will be a little better tomorrow."

Kevin's eyes flickered, but if she expected him to fall at her feet from gratitude, he quickly disabused her of the notion with his introduction. "This is my estranged wife, Molly."

"She doesn't look strange," walrus mustache's wife said in a too-loud whisper to her friend.

"That's because you don't know her," Kevin murmured.

"My wife's a bit hard of hearing." Like the others, Mr. Mustache was obviously taken aback by Kevin's introduction. Several of those in the room regarded her curiously. The People spread…

Molly tried to be annoyed, but it was a relief not having to pretend they were a happily married couple.

John Pearson stepped forward hastily. "Your husband has quite a sense of humor. We're delighted you'll be cooking for us, Mrs. Tucker."

"Please call me Molly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check the supplies in the kitchen. And I know your rooms aren't as orderly as they should be, but Kevin will clean them up himself before bedtime." As she headed down the hallway, she decided Mr. Tough Guy didn't always have to have the last word.

Her satisfaction faded the moment she opened the kitchen door and saw the young lovers having sex against Aunt Judith's refrigerator. She stepped backward only to bump into Kevin's chest.

He peered over her head. "Awww, for Pete's sake."

The lovers sprang apart. Molly was ready to avert her eyes, but Kevin stalked into the kitchen. He glared at Amy, whose scrunchy had come out of her hair and who was doing up her buttons wrong. "I thought I asked you to get those dishes cleaned up."

"Yeah, well, uh… "

"Troy, you're supposed to be mowing the Common."

He struggled with his zipper. "I was just getting ready to-"

"I know exactly what you were getting ready to do, and believe me, that won't get the grass cut!"

Troy looked sulky and muttered under his breath.

"Did you say something?" Kevin's bark must be the same one he used on rookies.

Troy's Adam's apple worked. "There's, uh, too much work to do around here for what we're getting paid."

"And what's that?"

Troy told him, and Kevin doubled it on the spot. Troy's eyes gleamed. "Cool."

"But there's a catch," Kevin said smoothly. "You're going to have to actually do some work for that money. Amy, sweetheart, don't even think about leaving tonight until those guest rooms are spick-and-span. And, Troy, you've got an appointment with the lawn mower. Any questions?"

As they shook their heads warily, Molly saw matching hickeys on their necks. Something uncomfortable stirred in the pit of her stomach.

Troy moved toward the door, and Amy's longing gaze reminded Molly of Ingrid Bergman bidding Humphrey Bogart a final farewell on that Casablanca runway.

What would it feel like to be that much in love? Again she felt that unpleasant quivering in her stomach. Only after the lovers had parted did she realize it was jealousy. They had something she seemed destined never to experience.

Chapter 10

"It's much too dangerous," said Daphne. "That's what makes it fun," Benny replied. Daphne Gets Lost

A few hours later Molly stepped back to admire the homey space she'd created for herself on the nursery cottage's screened porch. She'd put the blue-and-yellow striped cushions on the glider and the chintz-patterned ones on the bent-willow chairs. The small, drop-leaf kitchen table with its chipped white paint now sat against one side of the screen with two of the unmatched farmhouse chairs. Tomorrow she'd find some flowers to put in the old copper watering can she'd stuck on top.

With some of the essentials she'd transferred from the B &B to the cottage, she fixed toast and a scrambled egg and carried them out to the table. While Roo snoozed nearby, she watched daylight begin to fade over the wedge of lake visible through the trees. Everything smelled of pine and the dank, distant scent of the water. She heard something that sounded distinctly human rustling outside. At home she would have been alarmed. Here she settled back in the chair and waited to see who would appear. Unfortunately, it was Kevin.

She hadn't thrown the latch on the screen door, and she wasn't surprised when he walked inside without an invitation. "The brochure says breakfast is from seven to nine. What kind of people want to eat that early when they're on vacation?" He set an alarm clock on the table, then glanced at the remnants of her scrambled egg. "You could have gone into town with me and had a burger," he said begrudgingly.

"Thanks, but I don't do burgers."

"So you're a vegetarian like your sister?"

"I'm not as strict. She won't eat anything with a face. I won't eat anything with a cute face."

"This I've got to hear."

"Actually, it's a pretty good system for healthy eating."

"I take it you think cows are cute." He couldn't have sounded more skeptical.