For a moment she paused in thought, acknowledging the fact that she was glad Kerry was still there. Then she sighed and smiled a little ruefully.

“Ah, Dar, what have you done this time, hmm?”

She rolled out of bed with a yawn and trudged to the bathroom, blinking at her disheveled look with a scowl. She raked her fingers through her hair to order it a little, then gave up and walked quietly into the living room, where she stopped suddenly. A faint smile touched her lips as she surveyed Kerry’s sleeping form, tucked into the corner of one of the couches, her hand resting on a pile of papers. Her head was resting on the soft, padded arm, and she’d thrown her jacket over her shoulders for warmth. Asleep, her face was open and innocent as a child’s, and Dar felt an irresistible affection brewing in her for the young woman. Silently, she padded back into the bedroom and pulled a soft blanket from the closet, returning to settle it gently over Kerry before she continued into the kitchen.

The weather was lashing against the seaside windows, and Dar glanced out, surprised to see whitecaps traveling up and down the usually calm coastline. The barely visible buoys were bobbing right and left, their red and green signals waving wildly over the sea’s surface. “Huh.” She reached behind her and turned on the small, cabinet-mounted television, flipping through the channels rapidly. “Let’s see. Sensational local news, must be Channel Seven.” Seeing a weather map and a concerned-looking badly toupée’d weatherman, she gave the changer a rest. “Uh oh.” She turned up the Tropical Storm 123

sound a little.

“Rising suddenly in the straits of Florida, the low that had settled just north of Cuba has intensified, and a hurricane hunter plane from NOAA confirms a center of circulation and tropical storm force winds.”

“Goddamnpieceofcrapstupid— It’s November, damn it!”


“The National Weather Service in Miami has issued tropical storm warnings for the entire southern coast of Florida, from Cape Sable all the way around up to West Palm Beach. Interests in the area should be making preparations for tropical storm conditions within the next twelve to twenty four hours.”

“Aw, nuts.” Dar sighed in exasperation. “I thought we were over this for this year.” A soft sound behind her made her turn to see Kerry entering the kitchen, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and a puzzled, somewhat concerned look on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

Dar gestured to the television. “Tropical storm.” She exhaled. “Out of nowhere!”

Kerry peered at the screen, then up at her. “What does that mean?”

A dark brow cocked. “Well, for one thing, it means you’re stuck here.”

She picked up the phone and dialed, waiting with drumming fingers until someone picked up. “Hello, Rocky, this is Dar Roberts. What’s going on?” She listened. “I figured. Thanks.” She hung up. “Yep, the ferries are locked down for the duration. Only emergency runs are being made with the boats if people have to get off or on.”

Kerry considered the unexpected development. “Hmm. Sorry. I guess I should have left when I had the chance. I just wanted to get those reports done, then I…I guess I was tired, so I just lay down for a minute…” She gave Dar an apologetic look. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, my head didn’t explode,” Dar said. “And I can move around without wanting to puke, so I guess I’m better.” Her brow creased. “I’d better get candles and flashlights out. No telling how long we might lose power for.”

She stepped to the edge of the window, and pressed a hidden switch. “Better get the shutters down now.”

With a mechanical hum, protective aluminum shutters slid down over the huge, ocean-view windows, clanking down with a rattle and whining to a halt. Dar did the same to the kitchen window, then showed Kerry where the switches were for the other rooms. She left the blonde woman to do that, while she entered the laundry room and pulled out a covered basket, returning to the kitchen and putting it on the island. She opened it and peered down.

Inside were neatly packed flashlights, candles, sterno cans, and other supplies. “Hmph.”

“Okay, all done.” Kerry reported, as she came back into the kitchen.

“What else can I do?”


124 Melissa Good Dar gazed at her, then ducked back into the laundry room and came out, tossing her a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. “They’ll be big on you, but a whole lot more comfortable than what you’re wearing if the lights go out,” she explained wryly. “It gets pretty warm in here without air conditioning.”

Kerry had caught the garments and glanced at them, then she gave Dar a wry grin. “Makes sense.” She took the clothing with her into the small half bathroom near the study and quickly changed, stifling a giggle at the ungainly size that made her feel like a child. “Good grief.” She removed the belt from her skirt and belted the long T-shirt, then folded her clothing up and returned to the kitchen in her bare feet. The marble tile felt cold and the terra cotta of the living room wasn’t much better.

Dar was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and studying the basket. She looked up as Kerry entered, and half grinned at her outfit.

“Definitely big on you.”

Kerry looked down at herself and returned the grin, shrugging her shoulders. “Beats the monkey suit anyway. Thanks.” She went over to the basket. “So, is this a hurricane party?”

The dark-haired woman turned her head and regarded her. “More or less,” she said. “I…there’s canned stuff in the closet for storms. I don’t have much around here otherwise.” She indicated the refrigerator. “I mostly order in from the island restaurants.”

Kerry leaned back on her elbows. “What kind of canned stuff?”

Dar indicated the closet. “I have no idea. I had someone bring an assortment in. I was too busy to do it myself.”

“Uh huh.” Kerry pushed off from the counter and explored the closet.

“Well, I think I can make something interesting out of this.” She looked over her shoulder. “You don’t cook much, do you?”

Dar shook her head. “Not at all. I have cereal for breakfast, and I can make coffee. That’s about it,” she admitted. “Why?”

Kerry sighed, selecting some items and putting them on the counter.

“Well, I’ve gotten myself stuck here in your face, so I might as well make myself useful. “ She went to the refrigerator and studied the contents. “Hmm, I like challenges. Ah…” She pawed in the freezer and retrieved several frosty boxes, which she also set on the counter. “Do you have anything, um, like a pot?”

Silently, Dar pointed to the cupboard. “What are you doing?”

Sea green eyes regarded her in mild amusement. “I’m cooking. I can do that, you know.” She grinned at Dar’s expression. Then she turned to the cabinet. “Let’s see, you said you had cereal.” She opened the door, then turned, and put her hands on her hips. “Dar Roberts, I am not seeing Tony the Tiger in your closet, am I?”

Dar hung her head, then looked up at Kerry through dark lashes with a sheepish grin. “Corn and sugar are two of the food groups, right?” she inquired hopefully. “Let me guess, you do Grape Nuts.”

Kerry glanced around, then tiptoed over to her, and whispered. “Cocoa Krispies, but don’t you tell anyone.”

They shared a conspiratorial grin. Then, unexpectedly, Dar reached out and put a hand on Kerry’s shoulder. “Thanks for helping me out, Kerry. Sorry Tropical Storm 125

it got you stuck here.”

Kerry cocked her head a little, and a gentle smile appeared. “If I helped, then I’m not sorry,” she replied. “Besides, I’d rather be stuck here with you than by myself in this. I hate storms.”

“Fair enough,” Dar answered. “Besides, I learned something new about you.” Kerry’s brows lifted. “You give killer massages.” Dar grinned, catching her by surprise. “Wasn’t on your résumé.”

Unable to suppress a grin of her own, Kerry said, “Glad my skills got put to good use.” They looked at each other in a lengthening silence until Kerry glanced at her culinary selections and cleared her throat. “Right. Well, let me get to it. You must be hungry, I know I am.”

“All right, I’m going to log in and make sure they’re prepping the building,” Dar replied, still gazing at her. “I’ll be in the study if you need anything.”

Green eyes lifted and met hers for a long, searching moment, then dropped away. “Okay. I finished up a bunch of stuff, and I reprinted those reports you were looking for.”

Dar nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving her to her thoughts and the seldom-used range.

THE PAGE ON the screen was surely an important e-mail. Dar ran her eyes over it for the sixth time and still didn’t read it, her thoughts drifting off into some other realm with disgusting ease. Enticing scents from the kitchen kept distracting her, and she tried to remember the last time someone actually cooked something specifically for her, without her paying for it one way or the other.

It had been her father—cooking eggs and bacon, his one and only specialty, on the morning she’d come home to find him saucily sitting in the living room, his freshly pressed fatigues almost blending into her furniture. “Just stopping through,”

he’d said, “on my way out.”

Out to Saudi Arabia, he meant. Out of life was what it had been. Dar glanced at the picture, and felt a hand clench her heart. It wasn’t that they’d even spent that much time with each other over the last several years. It was that he, alone among all the people she’d ever known, had understood her.

Understood the competitiveness, and the fierce will, and the desire to conquer she’d inherited from him—and she had understood him, in all his complexity. His had been the only approval she’d ever needed. When that picture had been taken— her eyes flicked to the frame —he’d strode up after she’d won the tournament, and put his arm around her, and told anyone who cared to listen that “this is my kid.” It had filled her with a sense of belonging that nothing, and no one, had ever equaled. Then he was gone. And she’d sworn at his graveside she would never let anyone touch her heart like that again. Never.

But now, softly, gently, someone was scratching at the door. Someone who was as different from her as anyone she’d ever met. Her mind told her she was crazy to let it happen. Her heart knew she was helpless to prevent it.

The wind rattled against the shutters, sounding like dried bones clattering together. Dar nodded quietly to herself, and this time, read the e-mail.


126 Melissa Good KERRY TOOK A last taste, then gave her creation a satisfied look. She’d managed to find some frozen chicken strips, frozen shrimp, and two packages of frozen snow peas, all of which she stir-fried, adding spices whose seals she had to break. Then she made a sauce with peanut butter, milk, a little sugar, more spices, and some ginger. She’d steamed a pot of rice from the bag in the cupboard and found Dar’s stash of plum wine. “All right…” She took out two plates and washed the dust off them, then went to the study door and peered in.

Dar was studying the screen, the light from it washing her tanned complexion and sparkling off her pale eyes. After a moment, those eyes turned and met hers, and a dark brow edged up in question.

“Dinner’s ready,” Kerry stated.

She got a genuine smile back. “Smells interesting.” Dar stood and stretched, then moved around the desk and followed Kerry into the kitchen like a curious puppy dog. She peered over Kerry’s shoulder at the pot and sniffed appreciatively. “Mmm.”

They carried their plates into the living room and rather than use the big table, settled on the couch in front of the television. Just for the hell of it, Dar had lit a candle and put it in the center of the coffee table, and they ate by the flickering light in addition to the TV screen, which Dar flicked on. Quickdraw McGraw was just winning another battle, and she blushed. “Um…”

Kerry chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I like Space Ghost.” She watched as Dar moved through to the Weather Channel, and left it there as warnings and other information scrolled across the screen. She watched it for a moment, making a mental note to call Colleen and make sure her apartment door was closed tight. “Wow.”

“They make it sound worse than it is.” Dar commented, watching the screen. “See that guy? Idiot. Showing us what the storm’s like. Hope it blows his damn toupee off.” She accepted the plate Kerry handed her, piled with a nice mound of rice covered in stir-fry. “Thanks.”