will scare you even more, if you want to change the subject, '' he said, after a long moment.

I frowned at him. ''No games.''

''No. This is a serious question.'' He slipped off the deck chair, and one knee touched the

concrete balcony floor. He never looked away from my face, and he never let go of my hands.

''This is a question that's going to need a serious answer.''

My heart froze, then skipped to catch up on its beats. ''I-'' I couldn't begin to think of what to

say. I just waited. I probably had it all wrong, anyway.

''Will you marry me?'' he asked.

Oh. I didn't have it wrong at all.

My lips parted, and nothing, absolutely nothing, came out. Was he serious? He couldn't be

serious. We were comfortable together; we had love, we had partnership, we had-everything.

Everything except . . . well, this-an official kind of commitment.

Not possible, some part of my brain reported briskly. David was a supernatural Djinn, only partly

tied to the mortal world. I might have been a Warden, with extra powers over wind, water, air,

earth, living things . . . but I was just human, when it came down to brass tacks. He was

immortal; I wasn't, and I was achingly aware of that, every day that passed between us.

''David . . .'' I came up against an absolute blank wall, inspirationally speaking. ''I-can we talk

about this later?''

''Why? So you can come up with reasons to justify your fears about me leaving you?'' He

wasn't angry; he didn't mean it to hurt. It was matter-of-fact and strangely even gentle. ''Jo, I

need to know that you feel as I do. I need to have you with me. And– it's mortal custom.'' He

was clearly reaching on that last one.

''Have you been married before?'' There, I'd asked it. We didn't go into his past a lot, but I

knew it was ancient, and there had been plenty of relationships– Djinn as well as human.

He raised my hands to his lips, and I shivered at the warm, intimate kiss. ''Yes,'' he said. ''Ages

ago. Before I knew what I was waiting to feel.''

I stared at him. ''And now you know.''

''Of course I know,'' he said. His eyes had taken on the burning purity of newly minted copper.

''I was waiting for you.''

The phone rang. My gaze went to it; I was startled, but didn't move to pick up. One ring, and it

cut off. I wasn't sure if the caller had thought better of it, or if David had severed the connection.

''If you say no, it's all right. I will stay with you as long as you want me to stay,'' he said. ''You

won't lose me. You don't have to agree if this doesn't feel right to you.''

''But it's important to you.''

''Yes. Or I wouldn't have brought it up.'' David looked troubled for a second, as if he was

unsure of how much-or little-to say. Then he plunged ahead. ''When humans make their

vows to each other, it's the closest they can come to the depth of commitment a Djinn feels. You

see? I just want-I'm afraid of losing you.''

And it had taken him a lot to risk the question-I knew that. David's feelings for me were fierce

and constant; it was part of who the Djinn were. But human feelings were changeable, and I had

no doubt he lived in fear that one day I'd wake up and be a different person, one he couldn't

reach.

Being married wouldn't lessen that risk, but it was a symbol, a trust.

It all came down to trust. His, and mine.

''This is crazy,'' I breathed. ''What the hell are the Djinn going to say?''

''Nothing, if they know what's good for them.'' There was a glimmer of coldness to his tone.

David was the leader of about half of the Djinn-the good half, in my opinion, although there

were exceptions. The other half was led by a Djinn named Ashan, an icy bastard who didn't like

me very much and wasn't especially warm toward David, either. ''If you're worrying what it

will do to my standing among them, don't.''

But I had to think about that, didn't I? It wasn't just the two of us. The Wardens might have a

thing or two to say about a human marrying a Djinn, too. And what minister was going to bless

this union, anyway? Aside from their religious beliefs, most ministers didn't believe in the

supernatural, at least not in any good kind of way. And I knew David. He'd want complete

honesty in this, no matter how difficult that would be.

The day was getting darker, the sky turning from denim to indigo. On the horizon, the sun was

nearly down, pulling its glorious trailing rays with it.

Black, greasy smoke drifted into my eyes, and I blinked and coughed. David glanced at it,

annoyed, and the smoke disappeared-moved elsewhere. The air around us was fresh and clear.

''Jo,'' he said, ''you don't have to answer now. I just . . . had to ask the question.''

I ought to say no. I knew that. I just knew.

''Yes,'' I said, and something in me broke loose with a wild, silent cry. I was off the cliff now, I

realized, with a fierce joy, and that felt good. It felt free.

His eyes ignited into a color found only in the heart of the sun. ''Yes?''

''Yes, already. I'll marry you. Yes. Hell, yes. What am I, stupid?''

The phone rang again. David let go of my hands, picked up the extension, and thumbed it on

without looking away from my face. ''Mr. Garrett, I'm taking my lover to bed,'' he said. ''If you

know what's good for you, you'll reschedule your deadline.''

And he crushed the phone as if it were made of marshmallow creme and dropped the smashed

pieces on the patio table.

''Oh,'' I said faintly. ''Problem solved. Good approach.''

On the horizon, the fire in Alligator Alley continued to glow. I discovered that I didn't care at all,

as David's hand pulled me to my feet and into his arms.

I woke up hours later to the sound of screaming sirens. The Wardens had majorly screwed up-

again. My apartment complex was on fire. We were being evacuated.

That was it. I was never going on vacation again.

Chapter One

Getting married was like planning a military invasion of a distant foreign country, only instead

of moving soldiers and guns, you were organizing bridesmaids and bouquets.

Of course, my bridesmaids were bound to be pretty tough chicks. I couldn't really be sure there

wouldn't be guns.

''You know,'' said my best friend, Cherise, staring thoughtfully into the mirror and smoothing

her hands down the clinging lines of her dress, ''there's a math formula for wedding dresses.''

I blinked at her. I was trying to figure out if the layer cake of tulle and lace I had on constituted

romantic excess, or if it looked like I'd fought off a demented pastry chef and barely escaped

with my life. ''What?''

''The problem is, this dress looks totally fabulous on me. And the better the bridesmaid's gown

looks on her, the fuglier the bride's. I'm just pointing it out because I'm a kindhearted person,

you know.''

She was right-she did look totally fabulous in the dress. The color was a dark rose, one that

wildly complemented Cherise's blond hair and beautiful skin. It was a simple sheath dress,

clinging in all the right places, and it ended at the right length for her, just below the knee, to

display her perfectly sculpted calves to full advantage. No dyed generic pumps for Cherise; she'd

scoured the stores and come up with a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes that made me pray to the

fashion gods for something half as great to appear in my closet.

The first time I'd ever met Cherise, she'd looked fantastic. Cherise could look delicious wearing

an oversized foam-rubber sun-I know, I've seen her do it, back in the days we both worked for

the local bottom-of-the-barrel TV station as weather girls.