Michelle introduced Theo to the exasperated woman and explained that the staff secretary was trying to organize the ER.

"Why can't you have your journals sent to your clinic, Doctor? It really would help if you would just take your mail home every night. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, it isn't," Michelle said, feeling as though she were in school again. "Why didn't you just leave all this stuff in the doctors' lounge?" she asked when Theo picked up the box and she saw all the magazines.

Elena shut the door behind Theo and then got in behind the wheel. "Because I just finished cleaning out that mess," she said.

"You doctors…"

She was backing the car out of the drive and didn't finish the sentence.

"I'll try to do better," Michelle called. Placated, the woman waved as she sped down the road. Theo followed Michelle inside. "Elena reminds me of someone," he remarked as he carried the box into the library and put it on the desk. She nudged him out

of the way so she could look through it. There were several journals, parcels from two pharmaceutical companies, and a pile of junk mail.

"Who?" she asked as she dropped the envelopes back into the box. There wasn't anything that required her immediate attention.

"Gene Wilder."

"She's just got a bad perm," Michelle said, laughing.

"Where's your cooler?" he asked.

"In the garage. It needs to be washed, though," she said as she headed for the steps.

"You go ahead and take your shower first while I hose it off. Then I'll clean up. And don't use all the hot water," he called after her.

He'd been a guest in her house for a couple of days, and he was already trying to tell her what to do. She shook her head as she laughed. Nice, she thought. Having him here was very, very nice.

The deep resonant boom of thunder awakened Theo. It sounded like a firecracker had gone off inside the bedroom. The bed actually shook. It was pitch black outside, but when he turned his head, he could see lightning streaking across the sky.

A heD of a storm was raging. He tried to go back to sleep, but it was too hot. The air conditioner was humming, but because the window was open a crack, the cold air was being sucked out into the storm.

Michelle was sound asleep, cuddled up against his side, one hand flat on his stomach. He gently eased her onto her back, kissed her forehead, and smiled when she tried to roll over on top of him. He was suddenly thinking about waking her up and making love to her again, but then he glanced at the glowing green numbers on the clock radio and changed his mind. It was three o'clock. Waking her was out of the question. She needed her sleep, and so did he. They'd gone to bed at ten, but they hadn't gone to sleep until midnight.

If he wanted to spend Saturday fishing, he would have to get everything else done tomorrow. He had another meeting with the Carsons and their attorneys to hammer out the details, and when he was finished, he was going to help at the clinic.

Michelle didn't want to waste the entire day Saturday fishing until Theo told her about a little side bet he'd made with Noah. Whoever caught the most fish had to pay the loser a thousand dollars.

She had been appalled by the amount of the wager-how could anyone bet that kind of money when it could be put to much

better use-but as soon as Theo told her he couldn't and wouldn't call the wager off, she got with the program and became determined that he win. Boasting that she had a secret strategy, she explained that her father would take Noah to his favorite fishing spot deep in the swamp, just around the bend from John Paul's cabin. But on the other side of the bayou was an even better spot where the fish were so plentiful and friendly they would all but jump into the boat.

When he'd asked her how come she'd never told her father about her special fishing spot, she explained that she didn't want him going there alone because it was so isolated, and there were predators in the area. He'd translated the remark to mean that there were alligators in the area. She didn't deny or confirm his suspicion but took his mind off his worry by kissing him as she slowly removed his clothes. Taking his hand in hers, she'd led him to her bed. The diversion had worked like a charm.

Until now.

Maybe he'd grab that modified shotgun at The Swan and take it along. Then he remembered he was hot and wanted to close the window. He sat up, yawning loudly, and swung his legs over the side. His feet got tangled up in the sheet when he stood. He stumbled, slammed his bad knee into the bedside table, the round brass knob striking that oh-so-tender spot just below his

kneecap where he was sure every nerve in his body converged, sending excruciating pain rocketing down his leg. It burne

d like acid. Muttering an expletive, he sat down hard on the bed and rubbed his knee.

"Theo, are you all right?" Her voice was a sleepy whisper.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I hit my knee on the table. You left the window open."

She pushed the sheet back. "I'll close it."

He gently pushed her down. "Go back to sleep. I'll get it."

She didn't argue. While he sat there rubbing the sting out of his knee, he listened to her deep, even breathing. How could anyone fell asleep that quickly? Then he thought that maybe she was exhausted because he'd worn her out making love, and he felt a

little better. With a wry smile, he admitted to himself how arrogant that thought was.

He got up and limped to the window. He was pushing it down when lightning lit up the night, and he saw a man darting across

the road into Michelle's front yard.

What the hell? Had he just seen what he thought he'd seen, or had he imagined it? Thunder rumbled, then another bolt of lightning flashed and he saw the man again, crouching down by the sycamore tree.

He also saw the gun. Theo was already moving back when the shot rang out. The bullet pierced the glass, shattering it as Theo turned and dove for cover. Pain cut through his upper arm, and he thought he might have been shot. He hit the bed, grabbed Michelle as she bolted upright, and rolled with her in his arms to the floor, trying his damnedest to protect her head from striking wood. Pain shot through his arm again as he rolled off her and sprang to his feet, knocking the bedside lamp to the floor in his haste.

"Theo, what-"

"Stay down," he ordered. "And don't turn the lights on."

She was trying to comprehend what was happening. "Did lightning strike the house?

"That was a gunshot. Someone just took a shot at me through the window."

He was up and running. If he had let Michelle go to the window, she could have been killed. It was just a piece of luck that he happened to be looking down when the sky lit up.

Sprinting toward the guest room, he shouted, "Call the police and get dressed. We've got to get out of here."

Michelle had already grabbed the phone and pulled it down next to her. She dialed 911, then put the receiver to her ear and realized the phone was dead. She didn't panic. She dropped the phone, reached for her clothes on the bureau, and ran into the hall.

"The phone's dead," she yelled. "Theo, what's happening?"

"Get dressed," he repeated. "Hurry."

He had his gun and was pressed against the wall next to the window. He sure as hell wasn't going to give the bastard an easy target this time. Edging the drapes back with the barrel of the gun, he squinted into the darkness. Another shot rang out just as

the sky opened and the rain began. He saw a burst of red as the bullet left the chamber. He pulled back. He stood there,

straining to hear every little sound, praying that lightning would strike again and he could see if there were any others lurking out there. Was there just one man? God, he hoped so. If he could get one clear shot, maybe he could nail the bastard. He'd never killed anyone, never even fired the gun except in target practice, but he wasn't feeling at all shy about taking this man out.