She was looking through the window, hoping to see keys in the ignition, when she heard the sound behind her. Her heart leapt into her throat, then settled again when she recognized the familiar form coming through the rain.

"Thought this was your car," she shouted. "These roads are so wet, I nearly plowed right through. Junior'd have skinned me alive if I'd've wrecked this car."

"I'll save him the trouble."

Darleen never saw the tire iron that smashed over her head.

The power flickered on and off before finally wheezing out during a particularly robust clap of thunder. Caroline had prepared by setting emergency candles and oil lamps in every room.

She didn't mind the dark, or the storm. In fact, she relished them. She was hoping the phone lines would go as well so that she could stop having to answer the sympathetic and curious calls that had hounded her throughout the day. But if the power stayed off through the night, she didn't want to have to stumble blindly through the house, taking a chance on meeting Austin Hatinger's grinning ghost.

She watched the rain and the wind from the cover of the porch while Useless cowered inside, whimpering. It was a powerful show. With barely a tree to stop it, the wind roared across the flats and rattled shingles, jiggled windows, hooted through grass.

She didn't know whether this violent a rain was good or bad for the crops, though she was certain she'd be told all about it when she drove into town. For now, it was enough just to watch, to be awed, to know there was a dry, candlelit house behind her, waiting to offer sanctuary.

Shelter, she corrected herself, and smiled. What would the good doctor Palamo have to say about her use of the word sanctuary? A reflex reaction, she decided. She was no longer running or hiding. For the first time in her life she was just living.

Or trying to.

She'd certainly hidden from Tucker that morning. She'd accepted sex but turned away intimacy. Because she'd needed to prove she was alive, and had been afraid to feel.

Surprised by the chill, she rubbed her arms. It had been enough for both of them. He had wanted her, she had wanted him. It wasn't worth worrying about.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep gulp of air. There was a trace of ozone from the last spear of lightning. Exhilarating. The puppy yelped at the ensuing blast of thunder, and she laughed.

"All right, Useless, I'll save you."

She found him in the parlor with his nose peeking out from the skirt of the couch. Murmuring to him, she gathered him up and walked him like a baby while he shivered.

"It won't last long. Storms never do. They just come along to shake us up and make us appreciate the quiet times. How about some music, huh? I feel like music." She set him in a chair, then picked up her violin. "Passionate, I think." She ran the bow experimentally across the strings, pausing to tune by ear. "Passionate to match the mood."

She started with Tchaikovsky, flowed into a movement from Beethoven's Ninth, then tried out one of the tunes Jim had taught her before ending with her own rousing interpretation of "Lady Madonna."

Dusk had fallen into full dark when she stopped. The knock on the door had her jumping, but it sent Useless streaking out of the room, up the stairs, and under her bed.

"Maybe I should send him into combat training." After setting the violin aside, she walked out in the hall. Tucker stared back at her through the screen.

She found her competent hands suddenly restless and linked them together to keep them still. "It's a rough night to be out."

"I know."

"Aren't you going to come in?"

"Not yet."

She stepped closer. His hair was dripping. It reminded her how he'd looked after his shower that morning. "How long have you been out there?"

"I drove up right before you went from that longhair music into 'Salty Dog.' That was 'Salty Dog,' wasn't it?"

Her smile came and went quickly. "Jim taught me. We're exchanging techniques."

"I heard about that. Toby's real pleased. He's looking into getting the boy a second-hand fiddle."

"He's talented," she said, and felt foolish. Why were they discussing Jim with the screen door between them? "The, ah, power went out."

"I know. Come outside a minute, Caroline."

She hesitated. He seemed so serious, so deliberate. "Has anything happened?"

"Not that I've heard." He pulled open the screen. "Come outside."

"All right." She stepped through, nerves jumping. "I was wondering before if this rain is good or bad. For the crops, I mean."

"I didn't come by to talk about planting, or about music, if it comes to that." He dipped his hands in his pockets, and together they watched lightning stalk the sky. "I have to ask you about this morning."

"Why don't you let me get you a beer?" She stepped back, one hand reaching for the screen. "I picked some up the other day."

"Caroline." His eyes glowed against the dark, stopping her cold. "Why didn't you let me touch you?"

"I don't know what you mean." She pushed a nervous hand through her hair. "I did let you. We made love right in there on that couch."

"You let me have you, but you didn't let me touch you. There's a difference. A great big difference."

She stiffened. The regal look she sent him nearly made him smile. "If you've come out here to criticize my performance-"

"I'm not criticizing. I'm asking." He moved toward her, but didn't reach out. "But I think you just said it. It was a performance. Maybe you needed to act out something that told you you were alive. God knows you had cause to. I'm asking you if that's all you want. I've got more, and I need to give you more. If you'll take it."

"I don't know. Not just if I want to, but if I can."

"I can leave you alone if you need to think about it. Otherwise, you only have to ask me in." He lifted a hand to her cheek. "Just ask me in, Caroline."

Not just into the house, she realized. Into her, physically, emotionally. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again he was still standing, waiting. "I'm not a good bet."

A smile softened his lips. "Hell, sugar, neither am I."

She took a deep breath, then stepped aside to open the screen. "I'd like you to come in."

He let out the air he'd been holding. The moment he was over the threshold, he turned and swept her off her feet.

"Tucker…"

"It was good enough for Rhett Butler." He kissed her into silence before starting up the steps. He might not have had Ashley to worry about, but by God, tonight she wasn't going to think of Luis. Or anyone else.

"You're wet," she told him, then rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'll give you a chance to get me out of my clothes."

She laughed. How easy it was, she thought. If you let it be. "You're so good to me."

"I can be better." He stopped in the doorway to indulge in another long, lingering kiss.

"I can't wait to see how."

"This time you'll have to wait."

Shadows and candlelight danced over the walls. Heat trapped throughout the day settled into the room like an old friend, smugly overriding the wind that whipped the old lace curtains. There was the smell of candle wax, of lavender sachet, of the rain that dampened the screens and rapped fitfully against the tin roof.

With his mouth teasing hers, he laid her on the bed. His fingertips traced lightly over her face, followed by his lips, coaxing the tension away. Then there was only the sound of the rain, of her sigh, of the grumble of thunder as the storm moved east. Her arms rose up to welcome him.

He lingered there, mouth pressed to mouth, the scrape of teeth, the sultry mating of tongues, until she was sunk deep in the peace and pleasure he offered.

There was no choice now but to feel. He was subtly, slowly, nudging her emotions to the surface. They were battering at her, making her pulse tremble, her muscles go limp, her heart stutter. A quick flash of panic had her turning her head away. He contented himself with the column of her throat. And his hands, as skillful as any musician's, began to move over her.