"In the red bread-saver on the counter," he said, strolling forward and seating himself on a high stool at the scarlet serving bar. "Is that coffee I smell?" he asked wistfully. "You wouldn't want to give a poor entertainer a cup?"

"No, I would not!" she said shortly, as she drew out two slices of bread from the red metal container and proceeded to build herself a generous sandwich. "I wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst." She noticed with annoyance that he was still wearing the dark suede pants, and his white corsair's shirt was unbuttoned almost to the waist now. Why must the man look so devastatingly attractive?

He sighed resignedly. "I thought "you were angry when you left the dressing room. What have I done now?"

She whirled to face him. "What have you done?" she sputtered incredulously. "You've only publicized our supposed relationship before the entire world, besides spouting that absurd witch balderdash and making me look utterly ridiculous!"

His lips tightened and his ebony eyes darkened stormily. "I did what I thought was best. There was no way to keep your presence in my life a secret, and I've found the best way of handling reporters is to give them a little so they won't probe too deeply. I consider that bit about your being a witch something of an inspiration. They'll be so busy writing titillating stories about my resident witch that they just may forget to check into your background."

She strode up to his stool and planted her hands on her hips. "And what if they don't forget?" she asked belligerently. "What if one of them gets to Aunt Elizabeth?"

Rex's face clouded with answering anger. "Damn it, I did everything I could! I can't perform miracles!" He grabbed her by the arms and gave her a little shake. "Give me a break, will you?"

"That's not good enough," she bit out. "I won't have Aunt Elizabeth upset by all this!" She struggled furiously to break his iron grip on her arms. Then as her struggles proved fruitless, she gave a little cry of frustration and pushed against his chest with all her strength.

Rex's grip on her arms loosened as the high stool he was sitting on toppled backward, and he hit the floor with a bone-jarring crash!

Tamara gave a whimpering cry of horror. Rex's limp form lay motionless on the floor, his face pale and his lids closed. She dropped to her knees beside him. He was so still. Suppose he'd hit his head when he fell? Suppose she'd killed him? A quiver of shocked panic ran through her and she felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her world, leaving only dark emptiness.

She cradled his head on her lap. "No, you can't be hurt," she moaned frantically, tears pouring down her cheeks. "You're not hurt!"

A dizzying relief enveloped her as his absurdly long lashes fluttered and then his lids opened to reveal a wry flicker in the midnight dark eyes. "If you say so, sweetheart, but you could fool me," he said huskily. "Remind me not to make you really angry, will you? I don't know if I'll survive the next time."

"I'm so terribly sorry," she sobbed, hugging his head against her breasts and rocking him like a beloved child. "I didn't mean it. Are you badly hurt? Shall I call a doctor?"

He weakly shook his head. "I don't think it's anything serious," he said soothingly, rubbing his cheek in sensuous enjoyment against the soft satin covering her breasts. "It hurt like hell when I hit the floor and I think it knocked the breath out of me, but I'm in no pain right now I assure you." With obvious reluctance, he added, "I guess I'd better try to sit up and make sure."

With painstaking slowness, he levered himself to a sitting position, though not without a few muttered curses. When he was upright, there was a white line of pain about his lips. "Nothing's broken," he said, as he sank back onto her lap. "It's probably just severe bruising." He looked up into her anxious face and smiled. "I'm going to be sore as hell for a few days."

She lovingly held him and his expression became suddenly thoughtful as he took in her brimming violet eyes and quivering lips. "What can I do for you?" she asked. "Shall I try to help you get up?"

"I'm very comfortable as I am," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I wouldn't think of moving at the moment."

"My Lord, what's happened here?" Scotty Oliver roared from the kitchen doorway. His incredulous appraisal took in the overturned chair, Tamara's tear-streaked face, and Rex's supine body. He came swiftly forward and knelt beside Rex, his face almost as pale and worried as Tamara's.

Rex said casually, "We had a little accident. I fell out of a chair. I'm okay, just a little sore. Don't fuss, Scotty."

"Fell out of a chair!" Oliver repeated skeptically. He cast one look at Tamara's flushed, guilty face and said grimly, "Well, I only asked you not to drown him." He looked back down at Rex. "We'd better get you to the emergency room."

"No way. It's nothing. Only some bruises."

"He can hardly sit up," Tamara said tremulously, smoothing Rex's shining dark hair tenderly.

"That's great, absolutely great." Oliver shook his head with disgust. "How the hell are you supposed to give a three-hour concert in Houston tomorrow night? You'll be in agony the entire time."

"I've done shows with a 104-degree fever. I can muddle through this one," Rex said stubbornly. "No hospitals!"

Oliver ran his hand through his hair distractedly. "Okay. I'll get hold of a doctor and get him to prescribe some painkillers. I guess Houston will think a doped-up Brody is better than no Brody at all."

"No!" Tamara broke in fiercely. "You're not pumping him full of drugs and pills! I’ll take care of him."

"And how do you expect to accomplish that?" Oliver asked caustically. "You said yourself he could barely sit up."

"I have some herbs that will help," she answered. At Oliver's derisive snort, she added heatedly, "They were using herbs for healing and for killing pain thousands of years before modern medicine developed penicillin and Valium, and in many cases they're still a good deal healthier. I told you, I'll take care of him!"

Her arms tightened possessively around Rex, and he looked up at her with his lips twitching in amusement. "You heard her, Scotty. She'll take care of me."

Oliver gave her a black scowl. "I hope you know what you're doing, Rex."

"I have absolutely no intention of doing anything at all. I'm just going to lie here and let Tamara take care of me." He sighed contentedly. "And I expect to enjoy every moment of it. Bring on your herbs and ointments, my lady. I'm completely at your disposal."

A frown creased Tamara's brow. "I have the ingredients to blend the liniment, but it needs heat to be really effective. Do you have a heating pad or an electric blanket?"

"Better than that," Rex replied promptly. "My bathroom has a built-in sauna. Will that do?"

She nodded, relieved. "As you say, it will be much better. Do you think you can make it to the sauna if we help you?"

He nodded. "You run along and mix up your magic ointment. Scotty can help me undress and get me into the sauna before he goes to bed."

Tamara smiled eagerly, and placing his head with tender care on the floor, leaped to her feet and hurried from the kitchen.

Her herb bag was lying beside her unpacked suitcases in a corner of the room, and she snatched it up and rifled through it quickly for the ingredients she needed. She frowned as she noticed she was low on benzoin, but perhaps if she added extra bay leaf it wouldn't matter. She hurried back to the kitchen and blended the herbs carefully, adding a bit of cooking oil she found in a cabinet, and then heated the mixture slowly over a low flame.

After pouring the warm ointment into a bowl, she grabbed several clean dish towels from a drawer and hurried quickly through Rex's bedroom into the bathroom. She'd been so furious and upset when she entered the room earlier that she hadn't noticed anything but the sunken tub. Now she realized the huge room contained not only a shower stall but also a small, birch compartment that must be the sauna.