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  "Looks that way."

  "Well, it’s about time. How’ve you been? And what’s so important in Wyoming?"

  Dane blew his breath out through pursed lips. "Oh, clear skies, good whiskey, rugged women, you know…"

  "Ah. Women. Of course. There are women down here, too, you know."

  "Last L.A. woman I hooked up with almost killed me."

  "Good point," Jessica agreed with a small giggle. There was a pause, and Dane sensed she was moving about. Muffled, indistinguishable sounds filled the space until she spoke again. "I miss you," she said at last.

  "Like a disease," he murmured, stuffing his fingers into the hip pocket of his jeans. "How’s everything?"

  "Couldn’t be better." Her voice was confident, and Dane closed his eyes. He’d hoped for worse. "Devon’s going to preschool now."

  "You don’t have another one yet, do you?"

  "No, no such luck. Did you hear about Char?"

  "Can’t hang that one on me." For the fourth time, Dane walked the length of the porch and turned around.

  "Too bad you two couldn’t make a go of it," she said with a wistfulness he hated.

  "We’re better off friends. I haven’t seen her much since we got back from the Orient. I call her once in awhile."

  "So you don’t know who the father is?"

  "You don’t seriously think she’d tell me, do you?"

  "I don’t know. You have a way of extracting confessions from unsuspecting women."

  "You got one?" Dane grinned in spite of himself.

  "A confession? I already gave it to you. I miss you."

  The grin remained static, his throat again swelling painfully. When he could speak again, his voice was soft, too soft for his intention. "I miss you, too, Sweetie. You take care."

  Dane pushed the "off" button on the phone and stared at it for a moment. This small black device had put her voice inside his head, her face inside his mind. The vision brought him both joy and misery.

  "Damn it," he muttered, and pitched the cordless telephone as hard as he could in the direction of the Grand Tetons.

  ~ * ~

  "Did Dane sound different to you?" Jessica asked, returning to the house from the back patio, the telephone still in her hand.

  "Different, how? He always sounds a bubble or two out of plumb to me."

  "Oh, I don’t know. Just a little… melancholy, perhaps."

  Mac shrugged, took the phone from her, and started punching in a new number. "He’s probably been alone too long. That ranch is pretty isolated up there."

  "If you’re right, it’s a good thing he’s coming back. It worries me."

  Mac looked about to contradict her when his party answered, and he turned away to begin his conversation. Jessica went back to the patio and the warmth of the late spring sun. But soon, Mac returned, walking slowly along the edge of the pool, obviously troubled.

  Jessica felt compelled to reopen their conversation. "Do you think he’ll ever be… really happy?"

  "Dane? No."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "He doesn’t know how. I mean, it’s like every time he gets a shot at something good, he blows it. He… he sabotages his own happiness."

  Jessica stood from the chaise lounge on which she had been lying. "Surely you don’t think he created the problems with Jackie?"

  "I’m not talking about Jackie. But since you mentioned it, what happened there, anyway? Why would a guy, a guy who could have any woman eating at his feet, propose to a woman psychopathic enough to put a bullet into his chest?"

  "He didn’t know that about her when they met."

  "No, but you can’t tell me that he loved her. He didn’t love her then, you knew it, I knew it and he knew it. Why would he do that?" Mac squatted down and dipped two fingers into the pool water. "Yeah, well, I know why he did it," he finally murmured.

  Jessica was taken aback at the tone of his voice. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have unresolved issues with Dane."

  "No. I don’t."

  "You’re really upset about this. Is there something we need to talk about, because I happen to know Dane thinks the world of you."

  "Yeah, I know. Look, we’re going to be late, so could we just table this discussion?"

  "Mac… I thought everything was great between you guys."

  "It is, okay? Maybe I just feel bad for him. I just want to shake him sometimes. He hangs on to things that he shouldn’t."

  "Well it sounds to me like you’re the one hanging on to things. I, for one, can’t wait to see him."

  Mac stood and turned to peer at his wife. His face bore a mask of indignation, and his eyes were those of a stranger. Jessica raised her eyebrows, tilting her head in confusion. Her expression moved him somehow, and his look softened as he reached for her.

  "I’m sorry. Don’t worry about this, okay?" He gave her a brief, preoccupied hug, then released her. "Have you called the sitter? I’ve got to get my hair cut if I expect anyone to recognize me at that dinner tonight…"

  Jessica stared after her husband as he strode purposefully toward the house. She would assess Dane’s demeanor when he arrived.

  ~ * ~

  The ringing of their bedside telephone at 3 a.m. brought Mac to startled consciousness, his heart pounding from the unexpected shock. The fundraiser had lasted well beyond midnight, and he had slept a scant hour. His sister’s thin, distressed voice further alarmed him.

  "What’s the matter? Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

  "I’m scared, Core. I can’t hardly believe it myself, but I’m scared shitless. What if I can’t do this? What if I can’t take the pain? I’m afraid I’ll pack in some coke or something."

  "Calm down. Take a deep breath."

  Beside him Jessica sat up, her eyes wide. Mac brushed the hair from his eyes and moved the phone to his other ear.

  "I told you you’re welcome to come out here. Why don’t you hop a jet tomorrow and come on out? No sense in being alone."

  "I called the airline today. They say I’m too far along to fly."

  "Bullshit. Look, I’ll fly out there and get you. What do you say?"

  "You’d really do that? For me?"

  "Naw, I really just want to put some more mileage on my plane. But you can hitch a ride if you want."

  "Oh, man, that would be too cool. I’ll get someone to fill in for me for a couple of weeks or so. When will you be here?"

  "Day after tomorrow. So get packing."

  "Yeah, like I got a lot of stuff. You don’t worry, I’ll be ready." The joy in Charlene’s voice satisfied Mac, and he fell back into his pillow with an exasperated sigh.

  "She’s coming."

  Jessica, too, collapsed back into bed. "You’re flying all the way to Minneapolis?"

  "It’ll be easy. Don’t worry."

  ~ * ~

  Dane methodically checked over his saddle and bags before hoisting himself up onto Injun’s back. Even though Greg had taken great care in preparing for the ride, Dane was obsessive when it came to horsemanship. Leaning down, he slid his hand down Injun’s neck, delighting in the silken mane and taut muscles beneath.

  "I might be out a day or two," Dane called to his groom, who nodded. "Make sure you lock up when you take off."

  Greg offered a salute and a grin. "Happy trails, boss."

  Giving his Stetson a little tug, Dane was off, heading for the familiar trail leading away from Jackson. His trek would take him not only away from his ranch, but also away from the world at large and his latest dilemma.

  Ah, who was he kidding?

  He had not expected last night’s phone call from Minneapolis; Mac was giving off mixed messages. Worse than mixed--he’d been downright asinine. And it was more than just a change of heart. His on-again, off-again "best friend" was apparently off-again. I should have known better.

  No, Dane’s little field trip would not separate him from the fact that his future was up for grabs. But the fresh air might afford him some cleare
r perspective.

  ~ * ~

  "He still has a little cough, but he’s not contagious," Jessica assured the preschool director while tugging off her son’s jacket. "I’ll be at home if you need me."

  "I’m sure he’ll be fine. Today we’re making sea animals out of clay."

  Jessica smiled and squatted down. "Mommy will see you later. You have a good time with Miss Sue."

  Satisfied with Devon’s toothy grin, Jessica took her leave before either of them had a change of heart. Although she knew it was good for her son to be away from her and exposed to other children, she missed his presence at home.

  Maybe I do need to get back to work.

  While driving back to the sprawling ranch estate she shared with Mac, Devon, and occasionally, Mac’s ten-year-old daughter Megan, Jessica thought about the film project her husband was trying to put together. Romantic comedies were always popular, but it would be a first for the action-oriented MacKendall and also for Dane Pierce. Mac insisted that Dane should direct Mr. Romance and possibly even star. Jessica shook her head, smiling at the prospect of Dane Pierce starring as a romance novel cover model.

  Dane, romantic? Funny? Of course. And it was just off-kilter enough to thrill his fans.

  Early on, Mac had subtly suggested that she consider the role of the heroine, a tough non-believer type reporter who is covering the Mr. Romance competition. His offer surprised her; she would never forget the fury Mac had displayed in times past, the ugly--and needless--jealousy over her friendship with Dane. Still, he was a determined man, and had taken great pains to keep that jealousy under wraps.

  It was a long time ago. Things had changed, and Mac had resolved those differences, come to terms with Dane’s presence in their lives. Or had he?

  As she drove, Jessica pondered the emotions she had seen crossing her husband’s face after their poolside conversation about Dane. Yet, Mac had initiated the contact. Mac had coerced Dane into forming the partnership, the new production company that would make Mr. Romance.

  Jessica turned the Lexus convertible onto the long gravel driveway, instantly aware that someone was already waving to her from the front porch. Frowning, Jessica didn’t bother to put the car into the garage, instead leaving it near the steps and hurrying to join Gretchen at the front door. The housekeeper was dabbing at her cheeks with a tissue, unable to speak but beckoning for Jessica to follow her inside.

  The large screen television in the family room was on, and Gretchen turned her stricken eyes back to the picture being broadcast. The words "breaking news" appeared in the corner of the screen, and the scene being transmitted by a helicopter cam was of a sparse, hilly landscape.

  "What is it? What’s happening?" Jessica asked, looking from the television to Gretchen’s face and then back again.

  The older woman merely shook her head. The sound of the helicopter was muted slightly as the newscaster’s voiceover began.

  "Once again, we’re looking at the terrain around Pike Lake Regional Park where it is believed the small craft may have crashed, that plane belonging to movie and television entertainer Cory MacKendall…"

  "Rescue teams are on the move, as you can see they have several aircraft scanning the area and ground crews are already on the scene. We’re told the single engine Cessna left the Minneapolis area just minutes ago bound for Los Angeles, with MacKendall and one passenger on board. It is unclear if a mayday call was picked up or not, but we’ll bring you that information as soon as it becomes available. Again, a small aircraft being piloted by Cory "Mac" MacKendall is thought to have gone down just moments after taking off from Crystal Airport, just north of the Twin Cities…"

  "MacKendall is best known for his long-running television series, Dr. Jim, and for his much-publicized marriage to Academy Award nominee Jessica Taylor. The couple has a four year old son and resides in Los Angeles, California, for which, according to a flight plan filed by MacKendall, his plane was bound this afternoon."

  Jessica stared at the television screen before her, her face an emotionless mask. She made no movement, no effort to answer the phone that had been ringing since she had walked through the front door.

  Three

  The Role of a Widow

  Thomas Jarrick was one of those indispensable friends no one should be without. Calm and methodical, he went about the business of making essential arrangements for Mac’s remains to be transported to Los Angeles for burial while dealing with the many people all wanting to help somehow. His wife Roxanne remained her best friend’s protector, keeping all but those closest to Jessica at bay.

  At the MacKendall home, mourners began to gather on the fringes of the property, and well-meaning friends called and dropped by at will. Mac’s ex-wife telephoned to share her own heartbreak with Jessica, sadly informing her that young Megan had to be sedated when she was told of her father’s passing. Jessica was newly devastated at this news; Megan was barely ten years old.

  Feeling primarily cold and numb, Jessica went through the motions of preparing for a funeral, avoiding a massive attempt by the media for interviews and glimpses of her grief. Every television station and newspaper carried Mac’s picture and photos of the crash site. In Minneapolis, fans camped on the steps of the hospital where Charlene MacKendall lay holding a tenuous thread to life. Dr. Jim’s sister was loved by default.

  Devon cried when his mother told him that his daddy would not be coming home anymore, but would be with them in their hearts forever. Unable to get the answer he wanted from his mother, he cloistered himself in his room.

  "Have you heard from Dane?" Christine asked, watching with trepidation as her twin sister’s hand shook visibly while pouring out two cups of coffee.

  "No. His answering machine is no longer picking up. No one knows where he is." Jessica’s tone was low with disenchantment. "I can’t believe he hasn’t called."

  "Maybe he doesn’t know."

  "I don’t know how he could not know. It’s everywhere. The media won’t let it rest." She paused and briefly covered her eyes. "Tom even sent him an e-mail."

  Christine didn’t reply.

  "I got another call from the hospital. They’ve decided to leave Charlene on life support for the baby’s sake. They want me--they want me to come back there and make some decisions. Next week. After the… the funeral."

  "Why you?"

  "I’m the closest thing to next-of-kin. I guess they found some papers she had written at one time naming Mac and me… for the baby, you know, in case anything happened to her. She was really freaked out about having that baby."

  Christine nodded. "So the baby’s okay?"

  "I guess so. I guess they think so."

  "Do you want me to go with you?"

  Jessica offered what she knew was a bleak smile. "You’ve done so much already, Sis. If you could just keep Devon for a while, that would be the best thing. He loves to play with Angel. He calls her his cousin-girl." She took a tentative sip of the coffee. "Someone, maybe Tom, will probably go to Minneapolis with me."

  They could not stop the phone from ringing, but a rotating staff of aides answered the queries and screened the calls.

  "Mrs. MacKendall? The man on the phone says he’s Mr. Pierce."

  Jessica wasted no time in picking up the kitchen receiver. "Dane?"

  "Mrs. MacKendall. This is Bob Pearce with WSBA News. I was wondering what you thought about the FAA’s statement this morning. I’m sure you know we’re being told that your husband radioed about a loss in oil pressure. Is it possible that your husband would fly without checking the oil level on the plane?"

  Jessica left the phone dangling from the wall and crossed the family room to the back glass doors. She stepped outside to the patio, leaning heavily on the roof support post. "Oh Dane, where are you?" she whispered desperately. "I need you."

  ~ * ~

  Jessica was only dimly aware that the chapel behind her was filled beyond capacity. Her eyes drifted from the minister’s face to the smooth, glossy f
inish on the mahogany casket, then to the forest of floral arrangements surrounding the alter. The sounds in her head would not let her hear the clergyman’s words, his praise for Mac’s so worthy lifetime, his regret that it was over too soon.

  "Damn, she cut it so short this time," Mac was saying, his right hand smoothing the golden strands on the back of his head down to his collar. "I hate it."

  "You always hate it at first. It will grow back, darling. It always does." Jessica smiled; she also preferred it longish but she was careful to hide her opinion.

  "I hope it doesn’t diminish my virility," he said with a playfully wicked grin, slipping his hands around Jessica’s waist and pulling her near.

  "Not possible."

  "When will we know?" he asked, nuzzling her ear as she twisted her head away from his plundering lips.

  "Maybe Monday," she said with a giggle.

  "We did everything right this time." His voice had lowered to a seductive whisper, sending chills down Jessica’s back. "But maybe we should try some more, just in case."

  Jessica laughed and pushed him away.

  "You have to pack. We don’t have time for this nonsense."

  Still fussing with his hair, Mac turned to peer into the dresser mirror. "You didn’t used to call it nonsense," he teased, watching his wife’s reflection as she straightened the comforter on their bed.

  "It is when you have a plane to fly. You’ll thank me when you get on that 405 freeway."

  People were standing and filing out of the church. Low murmurs floated about her, words like "graveside" and "hearse", words that meant nothing. Nothing but nonsense.

  The minister ushered the last mourners out the door, asking that the widow be given a private visitation. Jessica stood and approached the open coffin, pausing several times in the aisle.

  I have to do this. I have to see him. It’s the only way I will ever believe it.

  For a moment, she was back at Jackie Spencer’s funeral four years before. Sitting in the back of the chapel with her husband and their closest friends, she had stayed behind while Mac paid his last respects. Her eyes wide and brimming with tears, Jessica had trembled at the sight of Mac kneeling at the alter and crossing himself before standing to peer into Jackie’s white lacquered coffin. As hard as she tried, she could not muster the will to join him. She could not look into the dead woman’s face.