What could have been an awkward moment after they made love on the sofa, especially with both of them still partially dressed, became instead a romantic interlude. J.D. lifted himself up, shucked off his shirt, tossed it onto the floor, and then stood and dropped his pants and briefs. He kicked them aside and stood there in front of her completely naked. Without missing a beat, he reached down, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her wrinkled dress over her head and off. After going down on his knees in front of her, he kissed her belly. She shivered. He stuck his tongue into her navel. She moaned. He buried his face against her mound. She cried out. And then he kissed her hips, her thighs, her knees, and finally looked up at her and smiled.

“You’re even more than I thought you were,” he said.

“More what?” she asked as she reached down and urged him to stand.

He revisited the trail he had taken on his way down, only this time he took his time to maul her breasts on his ascent up to her mouth. With his lips almost touching hers, he told her, “You’re more beautiful, more giving, more exciting, more woman in every way.”

“Oh…” She was on the verge of telling him that he was responsible for her being all those “more” things when he unexpectedly swept her up into his arms. She gasped and then laughed as she draped her arm around his neck.

“I’m spending the night,” he told her. “I just wanted you to know, in case there were any doubts in your mind.”

No doubts, she told herself. Not about being with him tonight.

When he carried her into her bedroom and tossed her in the center of the bed, she looked up at him, and suddenly second thoughts did creep into her mind and she wondered if she was crazy for doing this. J.D. Cass was probably more man than she could handle. There was a primitive masculine streak in him a mile wide, and that frightened her. She would never be able to tame him or control him. But would she really want to do either? On some purely primeval level, wasn’t that part of what attracted her to him?

“I’m glad you want to stay,” she said, pushing aside all doubts.

He crawled into bed with her, inching his way slowly toward her like a large, powerful animal stalking his prey. When he covered her body with his, bracing himself over her with his hands on either side of her head, she reached for him, her fingers exploring his wide, muscular shoulders.

He gazed down at her, his eyes black with desire. The moment her lips parted, renewed hunger plain on her face, he swooped down and kissed her.

She returned the kiss and was amazed that she could be aroused again so quickly.

He lifted his head and smiled. “Don’t plan on getting much sleep tonight, honey. I’ve had a few erotic fantasies about you and I’m planning on fulfilling every one of them.”

“If we’re playing true confessions, then I have to admit, I’ve had more than a few fantasies about you, too, Special Agent Cass.”

“Mmm…If we’re going to fulfill all of your fantasies and mine, maybe we should get started right away.” He circled her ear with the tip of his tongue. “The only thing we have to decide is who goes first.”

“We can take turns,” she told him. “Who knows, we may share some of the same fantasies.”

“One way to find out.” He rolled off her and onto his back. “Ladies first.”

With a feeling of incredible feminine power surging through her, she tiptoed her fingers up and down his semi-erect penis and smiled when he moaned. Moving upward, she found his nipples and rubbed them with her index fingers.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and urged her head down to his chest. When she licked first one nipple and then the other, he moaned again, deeper and louder.

“Honey, I’ll give you an hour or two to stop that.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll last an hour,” she told him, feeling quite sure of herself.

Hart sat alone in the dark room. He couldn’t go on this way, knowing what he knew. Not now. It was only a matter of time before someone started asking questions, before someone stated flat out that Regina Bennett had not kidnapped Blake.

All these years, everyone had believed that Blake was one of the Baby Blue toddlers, abducted and probably killed by an insane woman who kept ending her terminally ill son’s life again and again by murdering other little boys. If only it had been true. If only twenty-five years ago, Regina had sneaked into their house on a warm summer day and taken Blake from his bed.

If only…

He had tried to forget.

He had pretended it never happened. He had halfway convinced himself that Blake really had been kidnapped.

He had lied the day Blake disappeared. He had lied to his stepfather. And he had lied to Audrey.

He wondered if she had suspected the truth, at least back then, before the lies had replaced the reality, before everyone believed that Regina Bennett had taken Blake.

He shouldn’t have lied. He should have told the truth.

Hart knew what had really happened to his baby brother.

Garth downed another hefty gulp of whiskey, coughed, wiped his mouth, and set the glass in front of him on the table. Peggy Ann came into the kitchen, her housecoat open all the way down the front, revealing her large, drooping breasts, her still-flat belly, and her dark furry pussy. He had left her in bed a few minutes ago, after he’d hammered into her until he came. He had no idea if she’d had an orgasm or not and he really didn’t give a rat’s ass. He had gotten what he needed and that’s all that mattered tonight. But the short-lived oblivion had lasted only as long as his dick stayed hard. After that, all his troubles came rushing back, bearing down on him, crushing the life out of him.

Peggy Ann eyed the open bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the table. “Save a little of that for me.”

He reached out, ran his hand inside her housecoat, and squeezed her butt. “I’m going to get stinking drunk tonight, drunk enough to pass out,” he told her.

“Go right ahead.” She pulled her housecoat together and tied the belt, effectively concealing her naked body. “It won’t be the first time you’ve slept one off in my bed.”

“You’re a good woman, Peggy Ann. A good friend.”

She took a glass from the cupboard, sat down at the table across from him, and picked up the whiskey bottle. “You’re beating yourself up for no good reason.”

“What do you know about it?” He glared at her as she filled her glass halfway with Jack Daniel’s.

“I know you’re carrying around a load of guilt and pain because of what happened to your little nephew. I know because you’ve cried in your beer and mumbled in your sleep a few times over the years. You think there’s something you should have done or could have done to save Blake.”

Garth stared at Peggy Ann, wondering if she actually knew the truth. Had he ever been stupid enough during one of his drunken blackouts to tell her what had happened that day, the day Blake disappeared? Surely to God, he hadn’t.

“Blake wasn’t one of Regina Bennett’s victims,” Garth said and waited for her response. “It’s only a matter of time until everybody knows.”

“Yeah, but you couldn’t have known that before now. Nobody could have. It made perfect sense to assume that the Baby Blue Kidnapper had taken Blake the same way she’d taken those other little boys.”

Garth breathed easier. Peggy Ann didn’t know the truth.

No one else knew the truth. Only he and Hart.