And Babies Make Four by Ruth Owen

heart when he’d told her about his love for his uncle Gus. A warm glow of pride had filled her when he’d complimented her on her legs. Never totally comfortable with people, she’d suddenly found herself at ease with him. She’d shared the deepest part of herself when she’d told him about her father. She’dbegun to like him, to trust him, to want to be the friend that she knew he needed … and that she needed, too.
    And all the while he’d been looking at her as nothing more than another cheap conquest.
    She looked away, staring into the empty night because she couldn’t look at him while she lied. “That kiss was to convince your friends that the wedding was genuine. It meant nothing. And it certainly—” She paused, taking a deep breath before she continued. “It certainly wasn’t an invitation to add me to the collection of notches on your bedpost.”
    He said nothing. For the first time in her life she realized that silence could be as damning as condemning words. Belatedly, she realized she’d misjudged him, and that she’d hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. The knowledge made her a little sick.
But I had to do it, don’t you see? I’m only going to be here for two weeks—barely two lousy weeks. The only thing we could possibly have is a cheap little affair. People can’t learn to care for each other in two weeks. They certainly can’t fall in love. Life isn’t a fairy tale. My mother found that out. So did I
—
    He pulled the Jeep to a bone-rattling stop. Yanking herself out of her turbulent thoughts, she discovered they’d arrived back at his bungalow. “I didn’t realize we were so close.”
    “We weren’t. I took a shortcut home.” He grasped the roll bar and swung out of the Jeep. “You can see your own way in, can’t you?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Good,” he interrupted as he turned his back and started off down the road. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “Hey, where are you going?”
    He glanced back over his shoulder, flashing her a thoroughly disreputable smile. “Sweetheart, yours isn’t the
only
bedpost on this island.”
    [Received via Local Area InterNet, direct cable link]
    E-Text:
They’re back! Kill the power lights!
    [Several clock minutes of inactivity]
    E-Text:
Something’s not tracking. My passive audio’s picking up only one set of footsteps. Confirm.
P-Text:
Ten-four, good buddy. Ergometric weight and velocity impact indicate it’s Noel. Where’s Donovan?
    E-Text:
Dunno, but check out her body temperature and lethargy coefficient. Both well below normal. The doc’s in a blue mood.
    P-Text:
Maybe they had a fight. Statistics show that fifty-five percent of human couples fight during their first week of marriage.
    E-Text:
Yeah, but not during the first night. Something’s wrong, babe. Bad wrong. They keep this up and we might not even get them to stay in the mountains together
—
    P-Text:
But that would ruin everything! You know we need one of each to solve the equation. Otherwise
we paid that horrible Little Leaguer to trip up poor Dr. Harvey for nothing—
    E-Text:
Don’t download on me now, babe. Everything will work out. We’ll get these two interacting again. I’ll bet my credit line to the shopping channel on it.

SIX
    The road that led into the heart of St. Michelle’s sacred mountains was little more than a mule path—for extremely courageous mules. Cut into the side of a sheer limestone cliff, the road clung to the gray rock face, scarred with deep, ancient gashes carved by centuries of rain and wind. One side rose straight to heaven, while the other fell sharply away into the oblivion of a lush, mist-shrouded valley. Noel kept a firm grip on the roll bar and tried not to think about the sheer drop to her right. Not that she would have been surprised if she’d suddenly taken that deadly tumble. It was barely nine o’clock, and it was already shaping up to be a thoroughly rotten day.
    And if the stony expression on the face of the