Cry Wolf

She glanced at Jack. Jack, who had teased her out of her mood at Beauvoir. Jack, with his devil's grin. He wasn't gri

"The only place I kill people is on paper, sugar," he said. He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, dangled it from his lip.

The word "liar" rang in his head as he swung the Jeep around in a U-turn and headed for town.

Sava

Damn Astor Cooper. Why couldn't she just die and be done with it? What a cruel bitch she was, hanging on to him with her invisible threads when she was nothing more than a shell. She may have been a lovely woman in her time. Sava

I could give him something. I could give him everything, Sava

Like she had given Ro

She tightened her jaw at the bitter i

"It's what you were made for, Sava

That was the truth. The truth that had been burned into her brain night after night. She was a born seductress, built for sin. There was no use fighting her true nature.

She hadn't fought it tonight. The scents of sex and Ro

Arousal and shame grappled for control within her, twisting, struggling against each other, and tears rose in her eyes, blurring her vision of Coop as he sat writing.

"Damn you, Conroy Cooper," she mumbled, hating the feelings writhing inside her, and directing that hate at Coop. It was his fault. If she hadn't fallen in love with him, if he weren't so damn noble… He was the one who made her feel like a whore.

No. She was a whore. She had been born a whore and trained to perfection. Cooper made her ashamed of it.

Crying silently, she pushed herself away from the lilac bush and sidled along the house like a thief. She pressed herself against the clapboard siding and crept along to the edge of the French doors, where she pressed her face against the glass.

Cooper straightened his back slowly, wincing as he set his pen aside. His brain felt numb and empty, like a sponge that had been wrung out by merciless hands. The analogy struck him as one last drop of inspiration, and he started to reach for his pen again to scribble it down when a movement at the French doors caught his peripheral vision.

" Sava

She fell into his arms the second he opened the doors, sobbing like a child. Cooper folded his arms around her and rocked her and murmured to her, his lips brushing softly against her wild mane.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, grabbing handfuls of his shirt in her fists. "I'm so, so sorry!"

"Hush," he whispered, his voice low and smooth and soothing. "Don't cry so, darlin', you're breaking my heart."

"You break my heart," Sava

"No," he murmured. "I love you."

"Love me." She drew a shuddering breath and whispered the words again and again as scalding tears squeezed through the barrier of her tightly closed eyelids. "Love me. Love me."

Wasn't that all she had ever wanted? To be loved. To be cherished. And yet she gave herself away time and again to men who would never love her. Confusion boiled and swelled inside her, and she cried it out against Cooper's solid chest, wrapping herself in his warmth, anchoring herself against his strength. She felt so lost. She wanted to be strong, but she wasn't. She wanted to be good, but she couldn't. The only thing she was good at was sex, and that wasn't enough to make Coop forsake his vows.

"Hush, hush," he whispered, rocking her.

She smelled of sex and cheap cologne. She'd been with another man. He was neither surprised nor dismayed for his own sake. He didn't expect fidelity from Sava

"… Cooper?"

Sava

"Damn you," she snarled, pushing herself away. "You're not even listening to me! You're off with her in your mind, aren't you? Off with Lady Astor. Pure, chaste Lady Astor."

"I wasn't," he said calmly. He went to the desk, dismissing her, and went about the business of putting his notebook and pen away, tamping out the last of a good cigar that had gone to waste.

"You'd rather she were here," Sava

"Stop it!" Cooper's voice tore like thunder through the air. He wheeled and grabbed her by the arms and gave her a rough shake. He caught himself before he could shake her again and reined his temper in with an effort that made him tremble.

"Damn you, Sava

"Happy?" she whispered bleakly, looking up at him, her heart in her eyes. "I don't know what that is."

Cooper closed his eyes against a hot wave of emotion and pulled her against him, holding her tight.

"Don't hate me, Coop," she said softly, sliding her arms around his waist. "I do enough of that for both of us."

"Shhh… Hush…" He brushed her hair back from her cheek and pressed a kiss to her temple, then to her mouth. "I love you," he said, the words barely more than a breath as his lips brushed against hers. "I love you."

"Show me."

The hall clock ticked away the seconds of the night. Sava

For just a moment she imagined he was her father lying there, alive, holding her next to him. Jeff Chandler would have been fifty-eight if he had lived. And for a moment she allowed herself to wonder what her life would have been like. How different she might have been. She might have been the famous one of the Chandler sisters. She might have been an actress or a fashion designer. And Laurel… Laurel might not have needed to fight so hard for justice.

Poor Baby. Guilt nipped her as she thought of the way she'd left Laurel at Frenchie's. She really should have been home now, seeing to it that Laurel was getting some rest. Seeing to her sister's recuperation was her job now. But she had needed this time with Coop. Time without fighting, without words, with nothing but love between them.

There was never anything less than gentleness in his lovemaking. He was always so careful with her. No hurry. No frantic grappling. No rough urgency. Tenderness. Reverence. As if every time was her first time.

No, she thought, her mouth twisting into a parody of a smile. Her first time had been nothing like that.

"You want me, Sava

"I don't know what you mean-"

"Liar. You're a little tease, that's what you are."

"I'm not-"

"Well, I'm going to give you what you're asking for, little girl."

"No! I don't want you to touch me. I don't like that."

"Yes, you do. Don't lie to me. Don't lie to yourself. This is what you were made for, Sava

And she had closed her eyes against the first burning pain and damned Ross Leighton to eternal hell.

Lady-killer… Killer… "The only place I kill people is on paper."… Liar… You're a liar, Jack…

He paced the halls of L'Amour, oblivious of the wallpaper that was peeling off the walls, oblivious of the dust, the dank odor of mildew and neglect, oblivious of everything but his own i