Gemma laughed. "They listened to me without saying a single word, then they left and I didn't see them for four whole days. They didn't show up for their sessions. When they did return, they were different. There was no more joking and, worse, no one tried to learn anything. I was close to panic because if they failed, I'd lose my job-and it paid twice as much as any I'd had before. One night it hit me that I'd pretty much told the boys that I was smart while they were dumb. It was okay for them to be too tired to think, but I, Gemma Ranford, the Ph.D. candidate, had to have a clear mind."

"It was good that you could see that about yourself."

"Actually, the whole thing shook me up. It was a true epiphany. It's not comfortable to have to look at yourself without foggy gla.s.ses. The next morning I was at the gym at six A.M. and . . ." She shrugged. "Since then I've never asked my boys to give more than I give in return."

"What happened with their grades?"

Gemma grinned. "They skyrocketed so much that I was put in charge of the entire tutoring program. I started to require that anyone who works for me must work out with the boys. It's been so successful the university officially said that physical training was to be added to the requirement of being hired as a tutor for the athletes."

They were sitting in the car, he'd turned off the engine, and Gemma let out her breath. She'd never told anyone that story before. She'd tried to, but no one would listen. When the professors and her fellow graduate students had congratulated her on her ingenious program of working out with the athletes, Gemma always said it had been the boys' idea. But no one believed her. When she'd insisted, they'd turned away. Her colleagues and the professors didn't want to believe that the inhabitants of the athletic department could think. To them, thinking football players were too much like Planet of the Apes come alive.

Turning, she looked at Colin. His arm muscles were bulging inside his shirt. He was an athlete who listened and understood. Brains and brawn together-her dream man.

"I think you did a good job," he said. "And I'm impressed that you could really look at yourself. Not many people can do that." He nodded his approval and smiled at her in a way that made Gemma's skin grow warm.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked. "Besides eat, that is?"

Gemma looked out the window at the front of the big Frazier house. It was an unusual structure. It seemed to have been built in sections over the years, and none of them quite matched. She looked back at Colin. "Would your family think it horribly rude of me if I moved into the guesthouse today? I'd really like to get started on the research. Remember what I was reading that first day?"

"Sure," he said. "You were sprawled on the floor with lots of colored pens."

"You and Kirk! What is it about my pens that so intrigues you men?"

"I think he was jealous; I was intrigued. You're an artistic scholar." Colin opened his car door. "You'll be happy to know that I antic.i.p.ated what you were going to say. This afternoon while you were sleeping off Tris's drugs, I made some calls. Lanny sent you a car. It's a one-year-old Volvo with very low mileage. That sound okay?"

"Perfect."

"Mom had Shamus move your suitcase to the guesthouse, and Rachel packed your refrigerator."

"That sounds heavenly," Gemma said. She had her hand on the door handle. "Have you ever heard of something called a Hare-whistle?"

"Not that I remember. Is that what you were reading about? Your 'love, tragedy, and magic'?"

"Yes," she said, impressed that he remembered what she'd said. "That word has stayed in my head. It keeps rattling around in there."

"Through everything? Isla and Kirk? Playing cheerleader with me? Through Tristan pouncing on you?"

"Unfortunately, it wasn't anything like a pounce," she said, but Colin was already outside. She watched him walk around the car. The truth was, Gemma wanted to stay in the guesthouse so she'd be farther away from Colin. She had never been so attracted to a man in her life!

There wasn't anything about him that she disliked. In fact, if she entered everything she'd ever wanted in a man into a computer, Colin Frazier would be what came out. Maybe it came from years of being around football players, but she really liked big men. She'd also grown to favor men who did things. Her colleagues, who spent their days reading and debating about things that had happened centuries ago, had come to bore her. But her students, more than a hundred of them over the years, only let her lecture so long, then they plunged into something physical-and she joined them. It had been a genuine challenge for her to teach something like iambic pentameter while she was slamming away at a hanging bag while wearing sixteen-ounce boxing gloves.

All in all, her tutoring and the subsequent workouts had changed how she looked at men. When she'd entered college, she'd imagined that someday she'd have an academic family. She'd be married to a college professor, with two intellectually oriented children. She'd have the same type of relationship with them that she'd had with her father. They'd constantly visit museums, and history books would be their main pleasure.

But the truth was that Gemma'd had more fun with the boys she taught than she'd ever before had in her life. And also, based on her months with one of the a.s.sistant coaches, she'd found that s.e.x with an athlete was a great deal better than with a page-turner.

And now, this Colin Frazier seemed to be all that she liked in men in one beautiful package. He was smart, educated, resourceful, and an athlete. In the short time she'd been with him, the sight of his muscles under his shirt had come close to making her break into a sweat.

She remembered climbing on him this morning, standing on his broad shoulders, then later, being held in his arms. She didn't know when she'd ever felt such desire.

But Colin wasn't available. He belonged to Jean Caldwell.

Gemma wanted to think that she was above interfering with what seemed to be a very happy union, but she wondered what she'd do if Colin ever looked at her as something other than a friend.

"Probably make a fool of myself," she murmured.

"What was that?" Colin asked as he stood beside her.

"I was just thinking about Tristan and hoping that I don't make a fool of myself over him on our date. He's very nice-looking and a doctor too." She watched Colin's face closely. She didn't know what she was hoping for, a hint of jealousy, maybe? But there was none.

"He's a great guy," Colin said. "Hey! You should get him to tell you about his family. They've been doctors for generations, and he has a couple of scandals in his past that would probably interest you."

"Like what?" In front of them, at the end of the driveway, was a black utility vehicle, and Colin motioned for her to get in. "Until your side heals, you're to take it easy, understand?"

"Yes, Sheriff Frazier," she said, smiling.

"Good att.i.tude." He held her hand as she stepped into the small truck. When Colin got in beside her, her side was pressed against his, and she felt her heart begin to flutter. What are you? she silently asked herself. Fourteen?

"Unmarried mothers," Colin said.

She had no idea what he was talking about and her face said so.

"You asked about Tris's family scandals. I don't know much about them except that a long time ago two Aldredge girls came home to Edilean pregnant but they weren't married."

"Sisters?"

"No. If I remember correctly, they were about fifty years apart."

"Single mothers are common in any family tree." She paused. "One of the people in the letter I read was named Winnie. I a.s.sume that's Winifred. Know anyone by that name?"

"No."

"How about a woman named Tamsen?"

"Not that I remember," Colin said. "You should talk to Luke's wife, Jocelyn. She's done a lot on the genealogy of people in Edilean."

"Luke the writer? The man who had sense enough to get out of your way?"

"Sorry about that," Colin said. "When there's an emergency-"

"You get there as quickly as you can so you can help people," Gemma finished for him.

"Yeah, I do." They had reached the guesthouse, and at the sight of it, Gemma gave a sigh.

"Looks like home to you?"

"More or less."

Colin unlocked the door. "It's a bit isolated back here, so I want you to keep the doors locked. Okay?"

"Sure." She stepped inside the living room. Off the kitchen was a small, round table that was set up with service for two.

"I guess Rachel thought . . ." He didn't continue.

She didn't want him to leave, and from the way he was hesitating, maybe he wanted to stay. "Hungry? We can eat and I'll ask you about the Stone that grants wishes."

"A Stone? Wishes?" Colin looked at her in surprise. "You didn't mention wishes before, or a Stone."

"I guess not. Do you know anything about them?"

"Actually, I think I do. I may know what you read about, but I have to go get something. I'll be right back and-" He glanced at the table.

"I'll have everything ready."

"Great. I missed lunch too."

"Think Rachel made enough?"

Colin looked serious. "A salad is all I need," he said, then hurried out the door.

Smiling at his jest, she watched out the window as he tore across the property in the little truck. She wasn't sure, but she didn't think the manufacturer meant for the vehicle to go that fast. When he was out of sight, she went to the refrigerator and began pulling out gla.s.s containers filled with the delicious-looking food Rachel had prepared. Gemma hurriedly put dishes in the microwave and emptied bowls onto plates. By the time Colin returned, everything was ready.

He looked at the many dishes spread on the counter and grinned. "I guess Rachel knew a Frazier would be staying to eat."

As he picked up a plate, he handed her an old spiral notebook. On the battered cover was written in big block letters PRIVATE PROPERTY OF COLIN FRAZIER. SNEAKS WILL BE PUNISHED. THIS MEANS YOU LANNY. "I'm about to see all your secrets?"

Colin had his mouth full of deviled eggs and olives. "All of them in the year I was thirteen." He wiped his hands on a napkin and took the notebook from her. "My grandfather-Dad's father-used to tell us kids stories about our ancestors. I think half of them were a pack of lies, but I still wrote them down."

"What kind of lies?" Gemma was filling her own plate.

"According to my grandfather," Colin said, "it was our family, the Fraziers, who started this town, not the McTerns or the Harcourts. But only my sister, Ariel, believed him. We used to tease her that she wanted to be a princess so much that she'd believe anything."

"Sounds like she had a real fun childhood."

"Don't worry about Ariel. She can hold her own. Anyway, I used to write down some of the stories Gramps told us. Unfortunately, I decided that Mr. Wilson's geometry cla.s.s was the best time for me to write. I still don't know how to use a protractor. Here it is. The Heartwishes Stone."

"Heartwishes?"

Colin handed the notebook to her, filled his plate, then sat down at the table.

Gemma sat across from him and read aloud.

Grandpa Frazier's story number 7 The Heartwishes Stone was given to a Frazier man who saved his clan. He was a big, strong man who moved a rock that had sealed them in a cave. A witch gave him the Stone to say thanks. She said that any Frazier who made a wish from his heart would get the wish if the Stone was nearby. It works for lady Fraziers too.

"Think I'll win a Pulitzer?" Colin asked.

"Half of my football players can't write this well." She was rereading the little story and wondering if this was a subject for her dissertation. Family myth. It was a possibility.

"You look like a calculator started clicking in your mind."

She looked across the table at him. "I have an ulterior motive for wanting this job."

"Oh?" he asked as he b.u.t.tered a slice of homemade bread.

She told him about her need of an original subject to write about for her dissertation.

"Finding something around here that's old but has never been written about shouldn't be too hard," he said. "Jean says Edi-lean is as weird as if a bunch of Martians had set up a town in the U.S."

"From what I've seen, I agree with her. Is there any crime here?" Gemma cut into a slice of cold roast beef.

"We had more than our share last fall, what with all those agents from the FBI and the Secret Service, plus several detectives from the Fort Lauderdale Police Department."

"Oh right," Gemma said, still looking at the notebook. "I'm looking forward to meeting this detective. Mike Shaw, is it?"

"Newland. I tend to forget Sara's new name," he said. "You want some more tea?"

"Sure," she said. "So tell me what happened."

"Nope. That's Mike and Sara's story. They can tell you when you go to the cookout." He stood up. "I've got to go to the office for a while. You want to go with-?" He broke off. "I guess I'm getting too used to you being with me." He picked up his plate and took it to the sink.

"I'll take care of this," she said. "You go on and see about saving people. Oh! I forgot to ask if there's Internet service in here."

"We had a router put in, so you have wireless. You look like you're dying to get rid of me."

"That's not true . . ." she began, but stopped. She didn't want him to leave but she couldn't say that. "Yes, you're right. I can't wait to dive into the books in the library. Tomorrow morning I'll tackle the storage room. The garage is last. What?"

He was looking at her in speculation. "How are you going to move boxes when you have st.i.tches in your side?"

"Carefully."

"I'll come and help you. We'll weed out the money doc.u.ments, all the boring stuff, from the others."

Gemma started to protest but stopped herself. "Okay," she said at last.

For a moment they looked at each other, then Colin said, "Sure you don't want me to help you clean up this mess?"

"I'm sure. I'm going to make myself a pot of tea and see what I can find out about your Heartwishes. Think it's like the Stone of Scone? Big enough to sit on?"

"I don't know. What exactly did your research say?"

"I don't remember it verbatim. I was a bit nervous when I read it, too worried about the job to concentrate. I mostly remember names. Winnie, Tamsen, Ewan, and poor Julian." She glanced at the table and the countertop with its food and dirty dishes, then back up at Colin.

He seemed to understand what she'd just thought. "You go find the letter and I'll clean up," he said.

"What about your office?"

"It was just paperwork, and Roy probably already took care of it. She loves that stuff. Give her a computer and she's happy. That and a large sidearm."

Gemma laughed. "I like her already."