She seemed even more perfect now that she was standing before him. Her hair was a shade that was not quite mahogany, not quite red--something deeper than either, making him think of the hottest, most inner flame of a raging blaze. It was caught at her nape, and just a few straying tendrils curled about her forehead. Her eyes were lime-green and tilted slightly, like those of a sleek and mysterious cat. And like her hair, despite the aura of coldness about her, they hinted of fire.Deepest, hidden fire.

When she did speak, her words were soft, well-modulated, but they sent another gust of cool wind into the air between them, and no matter how softly spoken her words were,they were blunt and blatantly rude.

Her attitude made him want to slap her.

He smiled.And replied quietly. He wasn't sure what he had said, or even what she had said. It didn't matter. She still made a perfect Lorena. She was welcome to dislike him as much as she chose as long as she didn't let it interfere with her work.

But as he turned away, he was more bothered than he wanted to admit. Did she dislike him because he was a rock performer?Or because she had a hang-up about heritage? Maybe she was Custer's great-great-granddaughter or something, he thought with impatience. Well, he wasn't going to let it get to him. He would just leave her alone.

Lee smiled suddenly as he climbed the staircase. He could hear Tony explaining the entire concept of the video to her. It was obvious that she was going to stick--he was paying nicely.

A streak of mischief deepened his smile.

She was in it strictly for money. Well, she would get a chance to earn her money.

The traffic was bad getting back into town, and with each bumper-to-bumper snarl she came upon, Bryn cursed Lee Condor and his endless filming anew.

Tony Asp had explained it all to her; the song "Lorena" was a ballad written and made popular during the Civil War. Scenes had already been filmed in which the blue met the gray. In her scenes, theFulton place would be the site of a ball to which the soldier returned to find that his Lorena had met and married another.

A dream sequence followed in a field of mist, the soldier imagining what he would like to do: take Lorena and force her to remember her vows of love.

In reality, he would walk away, understanding that circumstances had changed everything for them both.

The main scene with Lorena would take place on the stairway. She would try to flee his wrath, but he would whirl her back and into his arms and carry her into the mist.

"It won't be more than a minute and a half of film time," Tony had told her, "but there can't be a misstep in it. And if it isn't entirely graceful, the full effect will be lost. You'll be in authentic period costume, so you need to get the moves down pat. And the main responsibility will be on you. Lee is something of a gymnast, but he's not a dancer. You'll be part of the group doing the Virginia reel first, so go ahead and get back with the others now, and we'll start rehearsal with the group. During their break, we'll work on your stuff."

And so there had been the rehearsal with the group, four hours of getting down the moves. And going over and over them until they began to synchronize...

"You look tired, Miss Keller," Tony had called her when they had broken. "Take five minutes."

Five minutes had meant five minutes--to the second. And then she had begun with Tony on the staircase. Foursteps, whirl, fall. No, try it a little higher. Oh, don't worry about Lee. He'll definitely catch you....

Then it had been back to the group and another three hours of back-breaking rehearsal....

She hadperspired so much that now she felt like a salt lick for a whole herd of cattle.

And to make it worse, he had been there the entire time.Watching.Quietly making suggestions to Tony. He had stood out of the way, arms crossed over his chest, or hands stuffed into his pockets. He had worn blue jeans and a blue, button down work shirt. But if he had just tied a bandana around his forehead, she could easily have imagined him on a flashy pinto, shrieking out a war cry and bearing down on the town to burn it out....

Brian and Keith's schoolbused them to Adam's day-care center when she was late, so at least she only had one stop to make. But all three boys were bickering. "Keith stepped on my toe!" Adam wailed loudly. "He hit me!" Keith protested. "Did not!It was anax -see-dent!" "That was no accident." "I saw you!" Brian butted in. "And it was no accident!" "Stop it!" Bryn snapped. "Stop it, all three of you. Get in the van!" It might have ended there, but something about the heat and her state of irritated exhaustion had gotten to her through and through, and she snapped at Keith again as he got into the van. "Keith! Damn it, get in and get your seat belt on. You've been dawdling for five minutes now." Keith hurried into his place in the back seat, snapped on his seat belt and stared at her with hurt eyes.

Although the boys had been fighting like cats and dogs, now they joined together against a common enemy: her. Three pairs of green eyes stared at her with silent reproach; all three sets of little lips were compressed in hostile silence.

Bryn didn't say anything then, but as she walked around to climb into the driver's seat, guilt overwhelmed her. As soon as she turned the key in the ignition, she twisted around to face Keith with a grimace. "Sorry, Keith.I've had a bad day." That was no excuse, she reminded herself.Especially for the "damn." If she said it, the kids said it.

He gave her a half smile, and she sighed. "How did swimming go today, Adam?"

"Don't like it!" Adam, at her side, replied, scrunching up his little nose. "Mr. Beacon tried to drown me!"

"He isn't trying to drownyou, he's trying to make you learn. Keith, what did you get on your spelling

test?"

Keith started to answer her, and she listened to him ramble on for a while, not hearing him. Suddenly she did hear something: the dead silence in the van.

At the next red light she stared around at their faces. They were all looking at her reproachfully again.

"What's the matter with you, Aunt Bryn?" Brian, the spokesman for the group, asked.

"Nothing, nothing," she replied quickly. Someone was beeping at her; she was ignoring the turn light.

"Damn!" she muttered, but this time the oath was beneath her breath. "Aunt Bryn..." Brian persisted. "Really, guys, nothing is wrong.Nothing at all.Just that stupid red-skinned tom-tom player.""Red-skinnedtom-tom player?" "Oh, God!"Bryn groaned. What had she said?And in front of the kids..."No one, honey. Please, pretend I never said that." They were all looking at her; she sensed it. "Really-- please, I was being horrible, and I didn't mean what I said. I was just angry and frustrated, so I was searching for anything to say to bemean . Do you understand?"

"Of course," Brian said. "Daddy always said not to say anything at all if you couldn't say something nice.

Is that it?"

"Sort of," Bryn murmured uneasily. "But it's a little deeper than that. You don't need to...to..." She paused, wishing she had thought before she had spoken. "You don't ever need to attack someone for what he is just because he's made you angry-"

"I see," Brian agreed sagely, nodding. "You shouldn't have said that a man was a stupid red-skinned tom-tom player because you were mad."

"Right," Bryn said.

"What's a red-skinned tom-tom player?" Keith asked.

"The American Indians were called 'redskins' by the early settlers," Brian educated him. "Don't you ever watch 'RinTin Tin' on TV?" he asked with impatience.

Bryn wanted to crawl under her seat. What would Jeff-- with his absolute impatience for intolerance of

any kind--think of her, or the way she was raising his children now?

"Brian!" she said sharply, ashamed of herself, yet hoping to make a point. "You're watching too much television. Keith--"

"Is it wrong to be an Indian tom-tom player?" Keith interrupted innocently.

"No!" Bryn gasped out. "Oh, please! Let's forget this. Stick with the 'if you can't say anything nice, don't

say anything at all.' I was wrong, very wrong, and I didn't mean what I said." Quickly she continued. "I...uh...Fm working on a videotape--'' "Oh, wow!" Keith said. "You mean like on MTV?" "Yeah, like onMT--" "Wow!" Brian leaned up as far as he could. "For who, Aunt Bryn?" "Lee Condor." "Wow!" Even Adam echoed their excitement. Brian turned to Keith. "Mrs. Lowe told us to watch his last video if we wanted to see the Middle Ages recreated perfectly!" "Perfectly," Adam imitated his older brother. "Perfect," Bryn muttered. "Everything's just perfect!" It was almostseven o'clockbefore she made it home, and almost nine before she had the kids fed, bathed and in bed.

Then she had to spend another hour in the darkroom. She had done a wildlife layout for a Tahoe tour folder, and only after having chosen five shots from the proofs had they decided on a different set of animals. But the folder could lead to more work in the future, so she didn't want to take a chance on quibbling with the nervous exec from the ad company.

At least, when she finally got to bed, she wasn't haunted by dreams, or by visions of strange dark and golden eyes. She fell into an exhausted slumber the minute her head touched her pillow.

Wednesday was, if possible, worse than Tuesday. She arrived at9:00 a.m., as Tony Asp had asked her to before she left the night before.

She thought that the place was empty when she first walked in, and it felt strange to be there. It was almost as if she had stepped back in time. The huge chandelier glowed in the ballroom, illuminating the striking marble floor and the beautifully carved strips of wall trim that contrasted with the lightly patterned wallpaper. The staircase rose into misty darkness, and for a minute she felt as if she had actually stepped back to intrude upon another lifetime.

A sudden blast of music almost sent her rocketing up to the ceiling; her heart slowed its wild pounding as she realized a tape had been turned on.A tape of Lee Condor and his group doing "Lorena."

It began with a drum beat that had a rock sound about it, but more than that, it projected the image of men marching off to war. A fiddle joined in.Then, softly, the sound of a keyboard.

And then Condor's voice.

It was a unique sound. His voice was a tenor, but a husky one, and it seemed as if it could reach inside the soul with its slightly raspy edge.

Bryn's nerves felt more on edge than ever. She felt as if his voice, like his eyes, could discover her secrets. As if it were an instrument that could strip one bare, expose the heart and the mind and leave them naked and vulnerable.

The song was beautiful. When other voices joined his in perfect harmony for the refrain, she felt an absurd rush of tears sting her eyes. You could feel it all, the love found, the love lost, the wisdom and sadness of resignation.

"Bryn, you're here. Great!"

Tony Asp was coming down the stairway, a tape recorder in his hand.

"Can't you just imagine when it's all done?" he asked jovially. "It's going to be wonderful.Just wonderful."

Bryn dredged up a weak smile. "I'm sure it will be."

"Set your bag down, honey, and take a minute to warm up. I'll be ready at the foot of the stairs."

Bryn obediently did as she wastold, wryly thinking she didn't need much of a warm-up. They had "warmed her up" so much yesterday that she should be stretched and limber for years to come.

Still, she knew the importance of keeping her muscles and tendons from being strained, so she set into a quick routine of exercises. Plies and stretches and, on the floor, more stretches. She rose, absently dusted her hands on her tights and walked the few feet to the stairway.

"All set, Tony," she told the dance director.

"Good. We're going to start back at the beginning, nice and slow," he told her with a smile. "You'll start working with Lee today instead of me."

"Lee?" She couldn't prevent dismay from sounding in her voice.

"Yes, Miss Keller. Me."

She hadn't seen him; she hadn't had the slightest idea that he was anywhere about.

But he was.Walking down the stairway. And his movements were so quiet that it made perfect sense that she hadn't heard him, but still she felt like screaming at him.

It was obvious that he had been there all along.Watching her. Not covertly, openly. She just hadn't known....Hadn't sensed his presence. And now it was suddenly overwhelming. She stared at him blankly as he continued down to meet her. He was in a short-sleeved knitIzod , kelly-green. The color seemed to bring out the glitter of gold in his eyes. His arms were bare, and his biceps bespoke wiry, muscled strength. The shirt hugged his torso, the trim, flat expanse of his waist, the triangular breadth of his chest and shoulders. Barbara had been right again: he appeared slim at a distance, but the closer he came, the more you became aware of the power of his frame. She was still looking up when he reached the bottom step. He stood a full head taller than she. And when he was there, right there before her, she sensed him again, as well as saw him. His after-shave was very light, and it made her think of cool, misty woods. It was pleasant, seductive....

And as frightening as that hot, leashed sense of energy about him.

"Good morning, Miss Keller."

The sound of his voicerazored through her blood stream.Chills, then fever, assailed her again.

"Good morning."

"Tony has been through this with me already, so we might as well give it a quick spin and see where the problems will be. I like the idea of the five steps--if you can handle the distance. I assure you, I'll catch you when you fall."

"Fine," Bryn said crisply.

"Tony?"

"I'm ready. Walk it through from the foot of the stairs. Then we'll try it with the music."

It had been so easy the day before. Today, as soon as Lee put his hands on her upper arms, she wanted to wrench away from him and run. She glanced uneasily at the fingers that locked over her gently. They were bronze from the sun, long, the nails blunt and clean. A spattering of jet hair feathered the backs of his hands. She found herself thinking that they were definitely a man's hands....

"When you're ready, Miss Keller."

She stared into his eyes. She saw the gold again, a deep burning fire, plunging into her soul. He was amused by her. She saw it as his lips twisted slightly into a sardonic smile.

The spin!she reminded herself. She could wrench away from him....

She spun into a pirouette, paused, turning right, and then left,then flew up the stairs. One, two, three, four, five...

She felt his hand on her arm, gripping her, stopping her, spinning her around again. She executed the kick without thinking,then prayed that he would be there to catch her....

He was. His right arm locked around her waist as she fell against the rock hardness of his torso; his left arm slipped beneath her, bending her knees, and she was floating as he began to carry her up the stairs. Floating... and staring into his eyes again. Feeling their heat...and that of his powerful arms about her... "Great!" Tony approved from the foot of the stairs."Rough, but great. Bryn, the kick was a little slow.

Lee, look angrier, less tense. You're not going to drop her. Now let's try it with the music."

The first try might have been "great," but the second was a disaster. Bryn tripped on the second step. And, to her horror, she repeated the fumble once, and then again.

It was Condor, she thought with defensive and heated anger. It wasall his fault for that half smile of vast amusement he gave her each time he saw the resentment in her eyes....

"Miss Keller, just what is the problem?" he inquired politely, but she could still see the laughter. "Have you had coffee yet? Tony, how could you let this young lady go to work without coffee?" She wanted to protest; she wanted to tell him that all she wanted was to get the rehearsal over. But before she could say anything, she found herself being ushered into a drawing room opposite the ballroom and staircase.

And she was completely alone with him.

Bryn stood silently as he poured a cup of coffee from a drip brewer.

"Sugar?"