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“I think the heart attack caught them all off guard. At the hospital, the doctor didn’t act so much guilty as flustered.” Turning to Barrie, he asked, “What about Gaston? Is he a player?”

“No. His only concern was for his mother’s reputati

on.”

“So where does all this leave us?” Daily wanted to know.

“I haven’t the vaguest,” Barrie replied with deflating honesty.

After a few moments of silent reflection, Daily said, “Well, I’m beat. Besides, that damn thing’s driving me nuts.” He shot the radio a murderous glare.

“Just don’t let your frustration get the best of you again.”

Too late, Barrie realized her mistake. She’d spoken without thinking. Daily gave her a fulminating look, which Gray’s radarlike perception intercepted.

“What’s going on?”

Daily said defensively, “See here, Bondurant, this is my house, and I do in it what I like, when I like.”

Gray’s expression was growing darker by the second. “If something happened that I need to know about—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Barrie cut in. “Let’s not make a federal case of it. Daily got a little upset this morning. While you were out, a sedan kept driving past the house. He lost his temper, went out on the porch, and gave it the finger. That’s all there was to it.”

“Except that now they know we’ve marked them,” Gray said, his displeasure clear.

“Daily didn’t mean to—”

“I’ll thank you not to defend me,” Daily said curtly. Then he turned to Gray with as much defiance as he could muster. “Who are you to order me around in my own house?”

“This isn’t a pissing contest between us, Daily.” Gray’s voice was softer and kinder than Barrie would have expected. “Anything I advise you to do is for your own safety. And Barrie’s. I can’t impress upon you enough how dangerous these men are. They’re spoiling for a fight. Please don’t give them one. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

Daily looked like a child who’d been unfairly reprimanded. With a brief nod, he yielded to Gray’s expertise. “Hell,” he grumbled as he stood. “I’m going to bed.”

Barrie volunteered to clear the kitchen and bade him good night. Gray followed him from the room. Since their treasonous conversation for the night was concluded, she turned off the radio and blessed the silence. When the kitchen was tidy, she turned out the light and went into the living room.

Gray was slumped in the far corner of the sofa, his head resting on the back cushions, his legs and feet stretched out in front of him. Barrie could barely make out his form in the darkness, which was unrelieved except for the jaundiced glow of the streetlight through the draperies.

For the first eighteen years of her life, she’d been overlooked by two people more intent on making each other unhappy than on the happiness of the child they’d conceived in a rare second of marital harmony. Perhaps that’s why she’d chosen a profession where she was constantly seen and heard. Broadcast journalism wasn’t for anyone who wished to keep a low profile. Once a neglected child, she now had high visibility. She’d been ridiculed and rebuked, but rarely was she ignored.

Except by Gray Bondurant. It was galling that he could so easily ignore her. Not her specifically, but the intimacy they’d shared. Since the morning they met, there had been little personal exchange between them.

True, that morning in Wyoming had been a chemical reaction, an accident, certainly not an act of love or even affection. She didn’t expect him to blow a trumpet every time she entered a room, but wasn’t some acknowledgment called for? It was as though it hadn’t happened. When he’d had the opportunity to get into bed with her in the motel, he hadn’t even tried. That was the worst possible insult.

Tonight, he seemed withdrawn and particularly self-absorbed. She debated the wisdom of walking into this lion’s den. But cautious approaches had never been her style.

She crossed the room and planted herself directly in front of him. Without preamble, she said, “You can’t just act like it never took place.”

“Why not?” At least he didn’t play dumb. “I thought we agreed that it was no-strings-attached sex.”

“We did.”

He shrugged as though to say, So, case closed.

“Even if it was casual sex,” she said, “can’t we still acknowledge that it happened?”

“What purpose would that serve?”

“Well, it would… it would…” She sighed with exasperation. “I don’t know. I just feel that we shouldn’t ignore it.”