Lost And Found

Published by Phaze Books Also by Marc Nobbs Charlotte's Secret

This is an explicit and erotic novel intended for the enjoyment of adult readers. Please keep out of the hands of children.

www.Phaze.com

Lost and Found An erotic romance novella by

MARC NOBBS

Lost and Found copyright 2008 by Marc Nobbs All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Phaze Production Phaze Books 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222 Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC. To order additional copies of this book, contact: [email protected] www.Phaze.com Cover art © 2008 Kendra Egert Edited by Loukie Adlem eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-016-4 First Edition – June, 2008 Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Chapter One The woman in front had her passport stamped and the immigration officer waved her through. Chris stepped forward, presented his passport, and tried his best to look like his fiveyear-old photo, which was difficult, given he'd shaved off the goatee three years ago. The immigration officer looked at the passport, then at Chris, then back at the passport. He grunted. "Purpose of visit?" "I'm here to see a friend in need." "In need of what, exactly?" The officer sounded suspicious. "A hug." He grunted again. Chris sighed. Had relations between Britain and the US really gotten this bad? He knew that security had been stepped up after the recent terror threats, but this was ridiculous. Do I look like a terrorist? Chris thought. What is it with these people? Give them a little bit of power and it goes straight to their heads. There were more inane questions before the officer stamped the passport and waved Chris through. Excellent. All I have to do now is get to River's Crossing and find Beth. He rented a car and fought his way from JFK Airport to the north of Long Island, where he could get a bridge to the mainland. He had to switch freeways twice, and the signage was so poor he almost missed the exit both times. On top of that, he was driving on the wrong side of the road. He'd driven in continental Europe before and had experience of driving on the right, but this felt different somehow. It was scarier. Driving a car with automatic transmission didn't help—he felt more in control driving a stick shift. When he did find his way to the East River, the most spectacular skyline he'd ever seen greeted him.

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He only wished he'd had a chance to take it in and appreciate it, but he was too busy concentrating on the road. Overzealous passport controllers, a freeway maze with no signs, and a spectacular skyline. That was his introduction to the United States, but after an hour and a half on the interstate, River's Crossing beckoned. **** River's Crossing—a rural Connecticut town with a population of thirty-five thousand. A town that most Brits had never heard of. Most Americans had probably never heard of it either until it hit the headlines two weeks ago. Chris couldn't believe it was a real place. Or that he'd made it there in one piece. Now all he had to do was find Beth. How hard could that be? He pulled off the freeway, drove through the commercial and industrial developments, and into what Beth always called 'The Old Town.' He parked in front of the courthouse in the town square. It was Sunday. The courthouse and most of the shops were closed. The only place open was a bar called Molly's. He went in and sat on a stool. "What can I get you, pal?" the barman asked. His dark hair was slicked back, and he wore a tight, white T-shirt with the bar's logo on the right breast. "Could I have a Budweiser, please?" "Two fifty," said the barman. He sounded as if he belonged in a trashy American sitcom. Chris fished out his battered wallet and handed over a five. "Haven't seen you around here before." The barman handed back the change. "You new in town?" "I'm on holiday—er, I mean, vacation." "Okay. You're a Brit, right? I can tell from your accent." Chris nodded. "Well, you guys backed us up over that mess with Saddam, so you're all right in my book. What brings you to River's Crossing?" "I thought I'd see a bit of the real America." Chris decided it wasn't the time to start asking about Beth. He was desperate to see her, but he was also aware that it would look strange if a foreigner started asking where someone lived.

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"I heard that about you guys, you like to do things your own way. That's cool. Me? Give me a trip to Florida any day of the week." He laughed. "Well, you certainly come to the right town if you wanna see what the States is all about. We're 'bout as typical as you can get." "Great. Look, this is probably a silly question but, do you know anywhere I could stay?" "Sure. There's a Holiday Inn and bunch of other motels out by the interstate. They're part of the River's Crossing Mall development." "I was thinking of something a little more luxurious. I'm on holiday—I mean, vacation, after all." "Oh, right. In that case, you'll want River's Crossing Inn. Cross the square from here. It's pricey mind." "Price isn't an issue." "Well, when you go over to check in, be sure to tell 'em that Mitch from Molly's sent you. They may even give you a discount." "Thanks, Mitch." "Hey, we don't get many foreign visitors. We need to look after the ones we do get. You might tell your friends about us." Molly's was on the eastern side of the town square. The courthouse dominated the northern side. To the south, east, and west were old, three-story buildings which had most likely been residences of the town's great and good in times gone by. They had all been converted into shops, restaurants, and offices. A road ran around the edge of the square. In the center, surrounded by a white picket fence, lay a well-kept garden. Chris cut through it and made a mental note to have a closer look later. River's Crossing Inn was an unassuming place, the kind of hotel that knows all about its own quality and doesn't need to show off. Chris booked in and got a free room upgrade after he mentioned Mitch. He lugged his suitcase up from the car and settled in. After a much-needed shower that washed away the sweaty legacy of a day's travel, he took quick nap to get back some energy. When he woke, he fired up his laptop and browsed through the pictures of Beth he'd collected over the two years of their online relationship.

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They'd started out as friends brought together via an international affairs discussion forum. They'd gone on to be what Beth called 'cyber-lovers.' The pictures he'd got of her reflected that. He stared at the first photo she'd ever sent him and remembered the sense of anticipation as he watched the download progress bar creep across the screen. That was when he still used dial-up Internet. He remembered the pounding in his chest as he double-clicked the icon to open the picture and the delight he felt when she filled his screen. It was a picture from her college graduation. She was everything he'd imagined and more. The last photo she'd sent him showed just how far their relationship had come. She was lying on her bed in her underwear and sporting a 'come to bed' smile. She'd sent it several weeks ago—before she'd received her devastating news. They'd been saying for over a year that they should meet in real life. That one of them should get a flight and go see the other. But they never had. Chris hoped that his unannounced visit would be a pleasant surprise. She deserved a pleasant surprise. He knew how much she'd been hurting for the last two weeks. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be okay. The last message she'd sent him before he signed off and went to bed the night before was "I need a hug." He'd been in London then and couldn't help her. Now he was in River's Crossing, he could help her. If he could find her. The hotel offered free wireless Internet access to its guests. Chris logged on and checked his e-mail. As he suspected, there was a string of messages from Beth. The first was a polite inquiry into his whereabouts. The subsequent messages showed her increasing agitation. They went from anger at his absence to worry about his safety and finally concern that she'd somehow upset him. He sent her a message to say that he'd had to go out of town for the day and not to worry about him. He signed off with "I'll see you tomorrow." He smiled as he hit send, thinking that he would see her tomorrow, but in the flesh and not on a webcam. He wandered back across the square. One or two restaurants were getting ready for the evening sitting. Chris lingered in the

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garden, walking along the path and admiring the flora. In the center was a dignified reflecting pool, a miniature version of the one in Washington, DC. It ran north to south. At the southern end, facing the courthouse, was a giant statue on a marble plinth. The double life-size statue held a document in one hand and pointed towards the sky with the other. Chris went for a closer look. On the plinth were two plaques. The first informed him that the statue was of Abraham Fairchild, co-founder and inaugural mayor of River's Crossing. The second plaque read, "The townspeople of River's Crossing salute and commemorate the sons and daughters who gave their lives so that we might live ours in peace and security." Below the plaque, carved into the marble, was a list of names, ages and dates. At the foot of the plinth, surrounded by flowers, was a lone photograph of a man in uniform. He was beaming with pride. His hat was straight. His brass buttons shone. Chris had never seen him before but he knew who he was—the town's latest loss. He'd been killed in Iraq two weeks earlier. Chris rummaged through the floral tributes, taking care not to disturb them too much, until he found what he was looking for. The card read, "I'll miss you, baby brother." Beth's handwriting was just as he'd imagined—elegant and feminine. He didn't know why he'd imagined it that way. He just had. They'd had spent so much time online together that he felt as if he knew her intimately. He'd shared things with her that he hadn't shared with anyone else. When she got the news about Lance, he'd felt her pain. She idolized her brother, even though he was five years her junior. He could do no wrong in her eyes. And he'd been taken from her. Chris made his way back to Molly's. It had filled while he'd been away. Most of the bar stools were taken and many of the booths and tables had occupants. Chris took a seat at the bar, and Mitch came over to him. "Hey. Our English visitor is back. What can I get you pal? Same as before?" Chris nodded, and Mitch fetched another Bud. "I never got your name," Mitch said as he popped the top of the bottle.

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"Austins. Chris Austins." They shook hands. "Nice to meet you, Austins, Chris Austins. You eaten yet? Can I get you the menu?" Chris ordered a steak with French fries and all the trimmings, then Mitch introduced some of his regulars and they chatted about the area. River's Crossing had sprung up around the first bridge across the river. Over many years, the town had expanded in all directions. Industry built up along the riverbanks and later spread west towards the interstate. It was a dull town. The most exciting thing to have happened recently was the expansion of the glassware factory. Chris played interested visitor, but he already knew much of what they were telling him. It was over an hour before he managed to steer the conversation where he wanted it. "So, what's small town life like? I mean, I live in London, you're lucky if you know your neighbor's name." "I know, or know of, most people hereabouts," Mitch said. "This bar's the heart of the community." "Heart of the community, my ass," croaked one of the barflies. He had a couple of generations on Mitch. "Small town life ain't what it once was, son. But this ain't what I'd call a small town no more neither. This town has more than tripled in size since I first joined the paper as a trainee outta high school. I'm telling ya, there was a time I knew everyone and everything that was going on in this town. As a good reporter should. But now? More and more folks are keeping themselves to themselves. I blame all this new fangled technology. Twenty-four hour news channels and the World Wide Web. Hell, people can work from home as if it was the office, pick up the phone and order take out delivered to the door, even shop for groceries on the 'Net. Folks need never leave they own homes if they don't wanna. Don't they say over your way that an Englishman's home is his castle?" Chris nodded. "Well, these days, an American's home is his god-damned fortress." Chris smiled at the old man. He felt sorry for him. The world had passed him by, and he hadn't realized until it was too late. "Talking of the Internet, that's what brought me here." "Really?" said Mitch. "You heard of River's Crossing on the 'Net?"

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"I'm here looking for someone. Hey, if you know so many people in this town, you could maybe help." "Try me." "Her name's Elizabeth Burnett." "Burnett. That rings a bell." "Burnett, Burnett," the old man said. He tapped the side of his head as if he was trying to remember. "You might know her as Beth. She's in her early thirties. 'Bout five-seven, slim, blue eyes, long blond hair." "Sounds cute." Mitch shook his head. "But no, can't say I know anyone by that name. Is this one of those Internet romances you hear about?" The old man was still muttering her surname. "I know she's a lawyer," Chris said. "You know which law firm she works for?" Chris shook his head. "Shame, 'cause there's five in town. Guess you'll have to try them all tomorrow." "Guess so." "Lance Burnett!" They looked at the old guy. "Captain Lance Burnett. That's where I know the name from." Chris nodded. "Her brother." "Well, in that case," said the old man. "The Burnetts live over by Lincoln Gardens. East of the river." "She doesn't live with her parents. And I can hardly knock on their door and ask where their daughter lives, can I? Can you imagine their reaction? 'Specially given they've just lost their son." The steak arrived and Chris demolished the meal as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. He washed it down with two more beers, then bade Mitch and the old man goodnight. **** Colonel Robert Burnett walked into his late son's bedroom and turned on the light. He stood by the large picture window that overlooked the back yard. Even though it was dark outside, he could make out the marquee that been erected for Lance's wake in two days. "You shouldn't have yelled at them," said a voice from the doorway.

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The Colonel turned to face his wife. "What? Shouldn't have yelled at who, Ellen?" "Those nice young men who put up the marquee." The Colonel huffed. "If they'd have done what I told them in the first place then I wouldn't have had to yell at them." He sighed. "That's the problem with the youth of today, they always think they know better." "But they did know better, didn't they? They're experts. That's why we're paying them so much." The Colonel turned to face the window again. "They wouldn't last two seconds in the army with an attitude like that." "But they're not in the army, Bobby. And neither are you any more." She walked across the room to stand by her husband and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and looked into her eyes. "Bobby, I know retirement's been difficult for you. You're so used to people doing what you tell them, how you tell them, when you tell them. But the real world isn't like that. Sometimes other people are right. Even Beth." The Colonel scowled, but held his tongue. "Of course, that would mean that sometimes you're wrong. It's a shocking thought, I know." He looked out of the window again. "I still think that the marquee would look better over there under the oak." Ellen shook her head. "Oh, Bobby. You're a stubborn old mule, but I love you. I'm going to bed. Don't be too long." She kissed his cheek. The Colonel nodded. "I'll be along shortly." Ellen strolled away. She stopped at the doorway, smiled at him and then left him with his thoughts. He wished she hadn't— his thoughts hadn't been very pleasant for the past couple of weeks. There was a nagging sense of something that he was sure couldn't be guilt. Could it? The Colonel had been so very proud of his son. He'd watched him grow from a cheeky small boy into a young man of great honor. He'd encouraged and supported him, and disciplined him when he needed it. From High School quarterback and Valedictorian to graduating from West Point summa cum laude, The Colonel's pride in his son had grown with each achievement. Lance hadn't just followed in his father's footsteps; he'd exceeded

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every single one of them. The Colonel left the window and stood before the shelf he'd erected many years ago to hold Lance's trophies. Each one gleamed—Ellen had taken to polishing them every day ever since Lance was posted to Iraq. The Colonel had been so pleased when Lance was commissioned in the army. He knew that his son would make an excellent officer. He picked one of the trophies—for little league baseball— and ran his finger over the engraving of his son's name. Lance had excelled at everything he did. The least that The Colonel could do was to give his son a funeral to match—despite anything his daughter said. His daughter. Lizzie. Elizabeth—named for her grandmother. He shook his head. She'd hardly spoken to him since Lance's death. She blamed him—he knew that. She thought Lance wouldn't have even been in Iraq if he hadn't been treading his father's path. The last time they had spoken, when they were discussing the plans for the funeral, he'd said some things to her that he wished he hadn't. He'd tried calling her to apologize but she wasn't answering her phone and the receptionist at her office kept saying she was busy. The Colonel suspected that Lizzie had told her to say that if he called. No matter. She'd have to speak to him at the funeral—he could put things right then. He went into the bedroom and undressed. Ellen was sitting up in bed reading a novel. The Colonel pulled on his pajamas and climbed in bed next to his wife. He took his reading glasses from their case on the bedside cabinet and picked up his book. "I heard from Senator Richards again today. He's agreed to say a few words on Tuesday." "Of course he has. It'll be on television and he won't want to miss an opportunity like that. There's an election on." She put her book in her lap. "You know, this is one thing that I do agree with Beth on. You mustn't let them use Lance's day as a political platform." "Don't you think I know that?" said The Colonel. "Richards knows what I expect of him." "Don't take that tone with me, Bobby. I haven't done anything wrong." She paused. "You could try calling Beth to apologize."

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He sighed. "I've tried. But she won't answer." "I'm not surprised after what you said. I wouldn't want to talk to you either." He shook his head. "I know I shouldn't have said those things, but she pushed me. She wouldn't let it go. You know what I'm like if someone pushes me—I let my mouth run away with me." Ellen nodded, "Yes, and your ears stop working too. You know that all Beth wants is the best for her brother." "And do you think I don't? He's a military man—I know what he would have wanted." He paused and took a deep breath. "I don't know. Perhaps I should go around and see her tomorrow." "Whatever you want, dear. But don't be surprised if she slams the door in your face." She picked up her book again. "I still can't believe you asked her why she wasn't married and churning out grandchildren yet." "Well, why isn't she? She's not getting any younger. The clock's ticking and if she keeps concentrating on her career—" He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "—then she'll never find the right man." "For God's sake Bobby, she's thirty-two, not fifty-two. Give the girl some time. She'll meet someone." She closed her book and put it on the bedside table. "Bobby, promise me something." "Anything." "Don't make a scene on Tuesday. Don't say something you'll regret and make things worse with Beth. She's all we've got now. Don't push her away." * *** The next morning Chris breakfasted in the hotel's restaurant, and then borrowed a copy of the yellow pages so he could track down the town's law firms. There was one in the town square, two in the surrounding streets, and another two further out of town, but in opposite directions. He tried the one on the square first. "Good morning, sir. How may I help you today?" The receptionist sounded as if helping him was the last thing she wanted. The look on her face told him she had far more

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important things she could be doing. Chris decided that preparing for her retirement was one of them. "I'm looking for a lawyer—" "You come to the right place then. We have plenty." "Her name is Elizabeth Burnett." "Oh. Well, I'm sure that Mrs. Burnett is a fine lawyer, but I'm afraid she doesn't work here. What sort of help were you after? We have a superb immigration lawyer." How dare she, thought Chris. "No, it was a personal matter I had with Miss Burnett. I have no need of a lawyer. Immigration specialist or otherwise. Good day." He turned to walk out of the office. "I'm sorry we couldn't be of service. Have a nice day," the receptionist called after him. It was a shame her tone didn't carry the same sentiment as her words. The two firms in the side streets yielded no results either. He had to decide which of the remaining two firms to try first. One was to the west, the same direction as the interstate, the fast food joints, and mall. The other was east of the river, in the town's wealthier district. He went west first. If it was the wrong firm, at least he could get something to eat at the mall, safe in the knowledge that his last destination would turn up trumps. **** The law firm of Hallsbeck and Johnston occupied a modern, three-story building on Regan Business Park opposite River's Crossing Mall. The striking modern architecture of the two developments was a stark contrast to the historic town square and its surroundings. A red-haired twenty-something sat at the reception desk, which made a change from the old dragons Chris had come up against so far in his search. "Good morning, sir. How may I help you today?" Her smile was bright and genuine and she sounded as if she actually wanted to help. "I'm looking for Elizabeth Burnett. I understand she may work here." "You mean Beth? Do you have an appointment?" "No. I'm afraid I don't."

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"Okay." The receptionist consulted her computer. "Well, you're in luck, she has nothing scheduled. I'll call her and ask if she's able to see you. Who shall I say is waiting?" "Tell her… tell her it's a friend come to take her for lunch." She made the call. "Beth, I have someone to see you… No, it's not your father. The gentleman says he's come to take you for lunch… He wouldn't say. Just said he was a friend. I guess he's trying to surprise you. He's kinda cute, if that helps… Okay, I'll tell him." She put the phone down and looked up. "Beth will be along in just a minute. Why don't you take a seat while you wait?" Chris sat, picked up the local newspaper and flicked through it. He couldn't find anything interesting in it so he put it down. "You have an accent," the receptionist said. Chris shuffled in his seat. "Yes." "Where are you from?" "London." "In England?" "It was the last time I checked." Beth's arrival put a halt to the grilling. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him and brought her hands to her open mouth. "It can't be. It just can't be. It is. Isn't it? Chris! Oh my God! Chris, is that you? Is it really you?" Chris's heartbeat raced. It was her. She looked as good as her pictures suggested—better even. He took a deep breath to compose himself, then nodded and stood. "In the flesh." "Oh, my God! It is, isn't it?" She squealed, rushed over, and flung her arms around him. "When did you…? What are you doing here?" "You said you needed a hug." His heart was beating so hard and so fast, it felt like it might burst through his ribcage. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "Oh, God, yes." She hugged him tighter. "I've been looking for you online. I didn't hear from you until late yesterday and it was such a short message, barely two lines. And then nothing again today. I thought I'd done something to upset you. Oh, God. I can't believe you're here." She hugged him again and her breasts pressed against his body. He could feel her hard nipples on his chest. His cock

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responded. It had been a long time since he'd been this close to a woman he wasn't related to. He held her tight, not wanting to let go. He could sense her relief. Her perfume filled his nostrils. She smelled of vanilla and wild roses. He stroked the back of her head. "Like I said, you needed a hug." She pulled away from him and held his hands. Chris didn't want to let go. He got the sense that she didn't either. "Give me a sec to get my purse and clear my desk. Then we can get a bite to eat and talk—in private." She glanced at the receptionist and turned to leave. Beth stopped and looked back at him with a big smile on her face. "I can't believe you're here," she said before rushing out of reception. While he waited, the receptionist tried to strike up a conversation again. "So, you came all this way just to give Beth a hug, huh?" Chris nodded. "That's sweet. You do this sort of thing a lot?" He shook his head. "How do you know her? The Internet?" Another nod. "Say, you got any friends you could introduce me to?" Another shake. "You don't say much, do you?" "Not if I have nothing to say, no." Beth again rescued him from interrogation. They left the office, crossed the parking lot, and arrived at the main road between the business park and the mall. Cars swept past them at alarming speed. "How fast are they going?" "You sound scared." Beth sounded amused. "I live in London, remember. The cars there don't get above five miles an hour most of the time." "Stop worrying. I cross this road every day. Besides, it's illegal to hit a pedestrian." "Yeah, right. That makes me feel so much better. Back home it's illegal to drive while using your mobile phone, but that doesn't stop anybody. Still, at least I know that if I get smeared all over the road, the driver's going to jail."

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"Actually, they get away with a heavy fine most times." She chuckled and took his hand in hers. Chris felt a shiver ripple down his back. She waited for a gap in the traffic and dragged him across to safety. She didn't relinquish his hand when they got to the other side, or as they crossed the mall's parking lot. Instead, she pulled him close and slipped her arm around his waist. It felt like the most natural thing in the world—as though they did it all the time. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her as they walked. She led him to her favorite coffee shop. She'd often told him about it. It was next to a fountain and served the best latte in the town. They sat at a table next to the ornate fountain. "No one sits back here," she explained. "We can talk and not be disturbed." "Sounds good to me." She picked up the menu. "I'm not real hungry. Let's just order something to nibble on." The waiter took their order, hurried away, and returned with their drinks. Chris sipped his espresso and stared at the fountain. "Why is it hidden in a corner? Shouldn't something so beautiful be out in the open so everyone can see it?" She shook her head. "It'd be in the way. There's a stage in the middle of the fairway over there. It's used for fundraisers and stuff like amateur singing contests. Once there was a contest that whoever put together a child's bicycle first, won it." Chris nodded. She had a such a nice voice. It was rich and melodious and, to his ears, her accent wasn't as harsh or twangy as some of the Americans on television or in movies. He'd heard her before, of course. But the low quality of the Internet telephone service they used hadn't done her justice. He felt that he could sit and listen to her talk all day. Beth moved her chair closer to him so they were both facing the fountain. Chris's heart started to race again as she got closer. "Besides, I like it just where it is. I love listening to the water." She dug into her purse. "I know it's not a wishing well, but every time I come here I toss in a penny and make a wish." She stood, walked the short distance to the fountain, and threw a coin into the glimmering water. She waited for a few seconds then turned and smiled at him. "I know I'm being silly,

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but my last wish already came true. Because you're here. I couldn't resist just one more." One of her breasts brushed his shoulder as she squeezed past him back to her seat. Chris shivered. He stared at her. Her short black skirt and white blouse suited her. Her legs were long, toned, and tanned, her ass curvy and her breasts filled out her blouse. "What?" she asked. "What?" "You're staring at me." "I was just thinking about how beautiful you are. I mean, all the photos you sent me are stunning, but I prefer you in real life." "Oh." She blushed. "Thanks." Chris popped a chicken nugget into his mouth and asked, "Didn't you tell me you made a wish to do with this fountain?" She shrugged. "Well, I don't recall any. But I'm sure I've mentioned the fountain to you lots of times. It's a replica of one that used to be in the town square. When the town grew and eighteen-wheelers started traveling through, one of the rigs hit it. Completely destroyed it. Such a shame, 'cause it was a hundred years old or something." Beth rattled off the information like a tour guide. She'd already told him all this. "Then when the mall was built, the town council decided to have a replica put here. It's out of the weather and everyone who shops here can enjoy a piece of our town's history. They built this alcove for the fountain. I like it back here. It's as if it watches over the townsfolk as they rush about spending money." Chris sipped his espresso and frowned. He cocked his head to one side. "What's wrong?" she asked. "It was a wish or a fantasy. And it involved the fountain. But I can't remember it." "I can't believe you're here." She put her hand on his thigh. His leg felt hot where she touched it. "I can't believe I'm touching you right now." He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed it tight. "I had to come. I've been worried about you." He raised her hand to his lips and brushed it with a light kiss.

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She blushed again and withdrew her hand. "Uh, well, tell me about your trip. And how you got time off from work? Why did you surprise me? How did you find me? How long do I get to keep you?" Chris chuckled. She did this online too. Sometimes he'd get three or four messages from her before he'd had time to type even one reply. "Slow down. Take a deep breath. We've got plenty of time. You talk too fast, you know." "So I've been told." "I had some holiday left for this year. My boss insisted he wasn't going to pay me in lieu, so I took the time off. I fly back a week on Friday so I'm yours for nearly two weeks. I had to come, Beth. I couldn't leave you to cope with everything on your own. Especially not tomorrow. I figured you could use a shoulder to cry on." "That's really sweet. Thank you. It's been so hard the past two weeks. I've felt so alone. Having you around will help. You know something?" "What?" "I love the sound of your voice." "That's good, because it's the only one I have." "Sorry, I can't help it. I know I've heard you before, but you sound different now. You sound like James Bond or something. I'm being silly, aren't I? You should stop me when I'm making a fool of myself." "You're not making a fool of yourself. You're just being you. Actually, you sound more like you than you have since… you know." "It's okay. You can say it. I suppose I've got to get used to hearing his name again." She smiled. "I'm so glad you're here, Chris." "I'm glad I'm here, too, Munchkin." She giggled at the sound of the name. "It's weird to hear that said out loud. Only my online friends call me that." Munchkin was the screen name that Beth used in the all the forums she was a member of. It was only after she'd decided he wasn't a homicidal maniac that she'd told Chris her real name. She dipped a pretzel into the mustard and took a bite. A blob of mustard dropped to the table, splattering across the top. "Damn!"

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She grabbed a few napkins and wiped all traces of yellow away. When she looked at him, he burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" she asked. "You have mustard on your chin." Chris picked up a clean napkin and wiped the mustard away. "It is all gone? How do I look?" "Perfect." She blushed and looked at her watch. "Oh damn, where did the time go? I'd better get back to the office. Michelle will cover for me, but not for long." Chris's heart fell when he heard this. He didn't want to leave her. How would he get through the next few hours without her? As they stood, Chris looked at the fountain, and a big grin spread across his face. "What?" Beth asked. "I remember what your fantasy was. You said you've always wanted to make love behind the fountain." "I never told you any such thing!" He nodded. "Oh yes, you did." "Oh my!" She put her hand to her mouth and gasped. Her cheeks reddened. "Did I really tell you that?" He nodded. "Come on, let's go. You have to help me cross that damn road."

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Chapter Two Chris spent the afternoon wandering around the mall. He got himself some designer jeans for half the price he would have paid in London and brought Beth a diamond pendant on a delicate gold chain. Then he headed back to the hotel to get showered and changed. Beth was waiting for him outside Molly's when he strolled through the public garden at seven-thirty. She'd changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of tight jeans and white vest-top, and she had tied back her long blond hair in a ponytail. "Where have you been?" she asked. Chris looked at his watch. "We said seven-thirty. It's now seven-thirty-one. I'd hardly call that late." "I know, but I got here early. I thought you might, too." "You should have waited inside then." "God, no. I couldn't go in alone. Come on." "Hang on. I bought you something this afternoon." He held out the gift-wrapped box. "I hope you like it." "Chris, you shouldn't have." "I wanted to." She took it from him, ripped off the wrapping and stared at the small black jewelry box. "What's this?" "Open it." She opened the box and gasped. "Oh, Chris. It's gorgeous. You really shouldn't have. It must have been really expensive." "Call it two years worth of birthday, Christmas, and Valentine's Day presents wrapped up in one." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said, then stepped back and fumbled to get the chain from the box.

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"Here, let me." He took the box from her and removed the necklace. He told her to turn around and draped it around her neck. She spun around. "How does it look?" "Perfect." The diamond hung just above the swell of her breasts, drawing his eyes to her cleavage. "Are you looking at the chain, or my titties?" "Both," he replied with a grin. "What normal bloke wouldn't?" Beth giggled. "I'll take that as a compliment. Come on, let's go in. I have to find a mirror." She linked her arm in his and led them into the bar. They sat in a booth by the window. No sooner had they sat down than Mitch came over with the menus. "Austins, Chris Austins. Glad you came to see us again. And this must be the mysterious Elizabeth. Nice to meet you. How come I've not seen you in here before?" "Er, I, er, don't go out all that much." "Shame. Good-looking girl like you ought to be out every night. I must say, I'm surprised you're still on the market. I bet you were homecoming queen, weren't you?" "Actually, no. Missy Marshall was queen that year. I lost out by six votes." "Missy Marshall, eh? I remember her. Doesn't she do porn now? Anyway, what can I get you guys?" They ordered and Mitch returned to the bar. "How the hell does he know who I am?" Beth asked. "Mitch claims to know everyone in town." "Mitch is notorious—that's why I wouldn't come in by myself." "I was in here last night and asked if anybody knew you. I wanted to surprise you. I had this vision of turning up on your doorstep and you melting into my arms. Only trouble was, I didn't have your address." Their meals didn't take long to arrive and took them even less time to eat. They ordered ice cream for dessert. "I can't believe I've come all this way and wind up with steak and chips as a main and ice cream for dessert. It's shocking.

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On the Eurostar, I could be in Paris within three hours of leaving my house and find a more varied menu." Beth laughed and playfully punched his arm. "If our food's not good enough, you can always get right back on the plane to merry old England." "Only if you come with me. I'll treat you to fish and chips and an afternoon at the footy." "You're on. But I can't tomorrow. I'm busy." She smiled weakly. "Lance would have liked you. You'd have got on well." "You think?" "Yeah. You have a similar sense of humor. I think that's what I'll miss the most, you know. His laughter. It was infectious." She paused. "It's not like he wanted to be the center of attention. You know how some people do and they scream, 'look at me, look at me.' But he had such a big personality that he just sort of wound up in the middle. D'you know what I mean?" Chris nodded. "Yeah." "I guess it was because he always went full tilt at everything he did. Always gave everything he had and then a little bit more. Our high school won the state championship for the first time ever when he was quarterback. And then they repeated it in his senior year before he went off to West Point. The Colonel was so proud of him. I was too." "I'm sorry I'll never meet him," said Chris. "He never wanted to go to West Point, you know. He wanted to follow me to Connecticut and study law—to be a lawyer like me. But the Colonel had other ideas. Lance only went along with the nomination because it's what the Colonel wanted. He never thought he'd get in. I knew better. I knew they'd snap him up. I also knew that when Lance decided on a military career, he'd give it his all. He was a brilliant soldier. A brilliant officer. But he'd have made an even better lawyer." Chris stared at her as she spoke. "I'm sorry," she said. "You come all this way and have to listen to me going on about Lance." "Don't be sorry. Talk all you like. I'm happy to just to sit and listen to you. As long as I get to look at you at the same time." Dessert arrived and they tucked in.

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"Where are you staying?" Beth asked before spooning a mouthful of ice cream into her mouth. "At the hotel across the square." "River's Crossing Inn? That must be costing you a fortune. No, that'll never do. You can check right out of there and haul ass over to my place." "Beth, I couldn't. It wouldn't be right. I couldn't impose." "Don't go getting all stiff-assed Brit on me. You're staying at my place and that's the end of it. I have a spare room. Besides, if you're my shoulder to cry on, I do most of my crying at night. I'm gonna need you a lot closer than River's Crossing Inn." After they'd finished dessert, Chris packed his bags and checked out of the hotel. Then he followed Beth back to her house. She gave him the dime tour and left him to unpack while she made coffee. He joined her in the kitchen when he'd finished. She handed him a cup as he sat at the counter and smiled at him. "Chris?" "Yeah?" "Will you come with me tomorrow?" "To the funeral?" "Well, I'm not planning on going any place else." "Are you sure that's a good idea? What would people say? What would your parents say?" "I don't care what anybody says! You said you were here for me, right? Here to support me? I'm burying my baby brother tomorrow, and my father has turned the whole thing into some kind of god-awful show. I need you there, Chris. I'm dreading it, but if you're there with me, I think I might just about be able to cope." "I don't know. I didn't know Lance. It wouldn't be right." "Most of the people who will be there didn't know Lance. What's not right is you coming all this way and then not being there when I need you the most. Please, Chris. Don't make me beg." Chris looked into her eyes. They were so sad that he couldn't say no. He nodded. "Oh, thank you. Thank you." She lent forward and kissed his cheek. Chris's heart started to race again. His breathing became labored. A tingle of electricity shot down his back and

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he shivered. She didn't pull away. Her face was close to his. He could feel her hot breath and smell her sweet perfume. She put her hand on his other cheek and kissed him again. She brought her fingers around and traced his lips, then turned his head until his lips met hers. Their breath was heavy and coarse. Chris could feel the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. He lowered his hands to her hips and drew her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. She tasted like cinnamon—sweet and spicy. Suddenly, Chris pulled away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Not with the funeral tomorrow. I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry, Chris. I've been waiting for you to kiss me like that all night." "Maybe so, but it doesn't make it right. You're vulnerable right now. I shouldn't take advantage." "It wouldn't be taking advantage. Not if it's what we both want." She put her hand on his face, cocked her head to the side and smiled. "You know, I always wondered if you'd be the same sweet guy in real life that you were on my computer. Well, you're not—you're a million times better. All the guys I know would be trying to get their hands in my panties right about now. But not you. Always the gentleman, eh? I'm so glad you're here." She walked to the door. "I'm going to bed. I have to be up early. I'll see you in the morning." **** Colonel Burnett paced back and forth in front of the desk in his study. He wore his freshly laundered and pressed dress blues. Ellen knocked on the open door as she entered. She wore an elegant long black dress. "The casket's here," she said. The Colonel glanced out of the window and saw the horse drawn caisson that would carry his son to his final resting place. He looked at his watch. "It's early." "No, it's not. Your watch is slow. I keep telling you but you never listen." The Colonel grunted. "How does he look? I can't see properly from here."

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"Spectacular. There's a small crowd outside—I think they're going to follow us—and I heard them applaud when the caisson pulled up." "So they should. My boy's a hero. He deserves their gratitude." He paused. "You look good, Ellen. I've always said black suited you." "Thank you, dear. I wanted to look my best for Lance. And you look good, too." She walked up to him and brushed some imaginary dust from his medals. "I remember the first time I ever saw you in this uniform. You looked so handsome—what girl could resist? I know I couldn't." He smiled at her as she adjusted his necktie. "There. Perfect." "You know, Ellen, I thought the next time I wore this uniform would be to give Lizzie away. I never dreamed I'd be burying my boy first." He shook his head. "Speaking of Lizzie, is she here yet?" "No." "Always late, that girl, but I thought she'd be on time today of all days." "Actually, Bobby, she's meeting us at the cemetery." "What? Why?" Ellen stepped away from her husband, walked across the room to the window and stared out at the casket beyond the hedge. "I told her not to come. I thought it was for the best." "For the best? How can that be for the best? Her brother is making his final journey today, and she should be here with us, making that journey with him." She turned to face the Colonel. "Bobby, you know what Beth's like. And you know how she feels about what's happening today. She wants to keep her grief private. You might be used to being the center of attention—" "Center of attention?" "—Please don't interrupt, Bobby. You know it's rude and you wouldn't stand for it yourself. As I was saying, you are used to people looking at you, but Beth isn't. She'll grieve for Lance in her own time and her own way. Besides, I didn't want a scene." Through gritted teeth, the Colonel said, "I wouldn't have caused a scene. This is Lance's funeral—just how tactless do you think I am?"

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"You're not tactless—you just have trouble controlling yourself sometimes. As does she. The two of you are more alike than either of you will admit. I didn't want to take the risk. Not today. Beth's okay with meeting us there—she arranged for someone to bring her and take her home. She'll be fine. Now, are we going to say goodbye to our son? He's waiting." "You're right, as always. It's just… I wanted her here. I need her here. There's so much I have to say to her. Starting with 'sorry'." "She'll be at the wake. You'll get your chance then." "I know." He nodded towards the door. "Come on. Let's go." He held out his arm for his wife and led her out of the house and up the pathway. The casket, draped with the Stars and Stripes and surrounded by floral tributes, sat on a caisson pulled by two fine black horses. The small crowd of somberly dressed neighbors clapped as the couple emerged. The Colonel shook hands with some of them and then laid a hand on the casket. An honor guard of seven soldiers in dress uniform walked with the caisson—one leading the horses and three either side of the casket. The crowd, led by the grieving parents, followed behind. Ellen started to cry. **** Captain Lance Burnett of the US Army 1st Infantry Division was afforded a military funeral at his father's request. The cortège left his parents' house and moved slowly east through the town to the cemetery. Townspeople lined the streets and followed behind. The honor guard carried the casket from the caisson to grave, where it waited to be lowered into the ground. The Colonel and Ellen stood on one side, the honor guard on the other. Forty yards away, a lone bagpiper played "Amazing Grace." The whole town had turned out to pay their respects to the fallen hero. A line of black limousines sat parked behind the small stage that had been set up for the cast of scheduled speakers. Television crews and photographers were herded into an area behind yellow ropes off to the side. Their whirrs and

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shutter clicks added an unwanted soundtrack to the somber atmosphere. Chris had never seen anything like it. It wasn't a time of private grief—it was showbiz. He stayed in the background with Beth, who didn't care for the glare of the cameras. He held her hand as she cried silently and dried her eyes with the handkerchief that he'd given her. Chris had often heard how grief made women appear sexy. He'd never experienced it and had always doubted it. But it was true. Beth looked stunning dressed in a small black hat, a short black jacket over a white blouse, a tight black skirt and black stockings. Chris knew they were stockings and not pantyhose because he'd seen her putting them on that morning when he'd accidentally walked in on her in the bathroom. Through her grief, Beth gave off an air of sexuality that Chris fought hard to resist. There was something carnal about the commemoration of death that made him want to celebrate life and all its pleasures. And he wanted to celebrate with Beth. All eyes turned to the local Democratic senator, Hal Richards, when took to the stage to speak. "Captain Burnett was the sort of man that we all wish we could be. High school football star. Academically gifted. He was an exemplary solider. Strong of body and of will, he was liked and admired by both his superiors and those under his command. He was sent to fight a war in which the people of America no longer believe—but he was a courageous man and because of his courage there are people alive today who would otherwise be dead. Those people owe Captain Burnett their freedom and their lives. Like so many of our brave soldiers, Captain Burnett followed his orders and saved lives and asked for nothing in return but our gratitude and support. Captain Burnett was a proud man. A man of honor. And he did his duty. And for that, the people of this town, of this country, thank him." "Damn hypocrite," whispered Beth through her tears. "How so?" Chris whispered back. "You should have heard him two years ago. He was in full support of the war." Captain Burnett's commanding officer spoke next. Colonel Martin R. James told the crowd how Captain Burnett had

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displayed great valor and acted beyond the call of duty. He described how he rescued a kidnapped television crew. "His actions were that of a true American Hero." There was no mistaking the passion and pride in his voice. "Unfortunately, those actions cost him his life. In recognition of his valor, I have this morning formally nominated him for the Medal of Honor— the highest award our government can bestow. This is the first time I've had the privilege to make such a nomination and I have no doubt that the award will be approved—I only wish that Captain Burnett were still with us to collect the medal from the President for himself." He finished his speech with a salute to the casket and the words, "God speed, Captain." Two members of the honor guard removed the flag from the casket, neatly folded it, and handed it to Colonel Burnett while the remaining members of the honor guard fired a three-volley salute. Ellen had cried throughout the funeral. The Colonel had remained stoic until he took the flag, then he too broke down. As the casket was lowered into the ground, a sole bugle played "Taps." Ellen and the Colonel stepped to the edge of the grave. Ellen threw flowers into it. The Colonel covered his son's casket with a handful of soil. It didn't take long for the crowd to disperse—the show was over. Beth remained still until she and Chris were the only people left. Tears had trickled down her cheeks and left streaks of make-up. Her eyes were red and puffy. "You okay?" Chris asked. Beth nodded. "I will be. Eventually." "Should we go?" "In a sec. There's a wake at my folks' place. I just want to say goodbye properly first." They stepped to the grave's edge, and Beth stared into it. The casket was covered with red roses and a sprinkling of soil. She remained silent. Chris guessed that she was talking to her brother. Finally she said, "I'm so sorry, little brother. I'm so, so sorry." She looked at Chris. "This is all my fault, you know. I should have stopped him from going to West Point. I should have talked him into doing what he wanted, not what the Colonel wanted. He should never have been over there." "You can't blame yourself, Munchkin. He made his own choices."

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"I know." She wiped her eyes with her jacket sleeve. "He thought this might happen you know. Before he left, he told me he might come home in a body bag. I told him he was being silly. All he had to do was keep his head down and stay away from trouble. And do you know what he said?" "What?" "He said, 'does that sound like me, sis?' He was right. It didn't sound like him at all." "Excuse me, missy," said an old man with a shovel who was standing behind them. "Are you going to be here much longer? 'Cause we gotta fill in this here hole before the next one arrives." Beth shook her head. "No. No, I'm done." A solitary tear trickled down her cheek. She kissed the single red rose she was holding and threw it into the grave with the others. "Goodbye, Lance." She sobbed great, gut-wrenching sobs as Chris put his arm around her and led her away. He took her back to his rented car and drove to her house. "We should be at my folks'. I'm expected." "I don't know the way. Besides, I thought you might like to freshen up first." She looked at him and smiled. "Thanks, that's really thoughtful. I won't be long. I promise." Beth was as good as her word. Within fifteen minutes, they had turned into the Burnett's street. It was lined with parked cars. "There's a parking lot in Lincoln Gardens," Beth said. "It's only a short walk." Before they went through the gate into the Burnett's backyard, Beth stopped and faced Chris. "Whatever happens this afternoon, whatever's said, I want you to know that I appreciate you being here for me more than anything." "What do you think is going to happen?" "I told you, my parents—well, the Colonel, actually. He blames me for Lance's death." "But that's crazy. How could it possibly be your fault?" "I told Lance I didn't think he ought to be out there. I distracted him apparently." She shrugged. "He has to blame someone. It couldn't possibly be his fault Lance was in Iraq, could it?"

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"So Lance's death had nothing to do with him acting the hero to impress his father?" "Lance didn't act the hero. He was a hero. He was my hero. Always has been. But, just so you know, I expect this to be difficult. He's grieving. We all are. I haven't spoken to the Colonel for over a week and the last time I did, it wasn't pleasant. I'm scared of what he'll say. Or what I'll say. I'm afraid I can be as stubborn as he is sometimes." She led him into the yard, where people stood around, drinks in one hand, sandwiches in the other. There was a low hum of stilted conversation. Many heads turned to look at them as they entered and the whispering increased. Chris could guess what they were saying. "Who's that man with Elizabeth? Have you ever seen him before? No, me neither." The Colonel and Ellen were on the far side of the yard, by the marquee, talking with Colonel James and Senator Richards. Beth led Chris over to them, ignoring the looks and whispers. "I assure you," said Senator Richards, "that there's no need to worry. As soon as the election is out of the way, I'll put on the pressure and get that nomination pushed through as quickly as I can. I'm sure the President's people will see the media potential of this award. You'll get your day at the White House to receive your son's Medal of Honor—even if it's the next President that hands it over." Ellen spotted her daughter first. "Beth, dear. How are you?" She held out her hand and Beth took it. "I'll be okay, Mom. How are you?" "How do you think she is?" said the Colonel, before Ellen could answer. "Bobby. Don't." "So, you finally decided to show your face, my girl?" The Colonel's voice cracked as he spoke. His face was drawn. There were bags under his eyes, which glistened with the tears he fought to hold back. "I needed to stop off at my place first." "You needed to be by your mother's side. By my side. But no, Little Lizzie has to stay in the background."

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"Erm, excuse me," said Senator Richards. Looking embarrassed, he backed away and went in search of someone else to talk to. Colonel James slipped away without a word. "You know how I feel, Daddy. Today should have been just for family and friends, not the whole world." "Don't you think your brother deserved a proper send off? A hero's send off?" "Yes, I do. I just don't think that's what we had today." "Your brother was a true American hero. And today we him treated like one." Chris looked around. The chatter had stopped and all eyes were upon them. Beth's mother was staring at the floor, shaking her head. Beth stared at her father. "What he deserved was some dignity. He wouldn't have wanted what happened today." "Lance was a military man. This is a military family. Why shouldn't he have a military funeral?" "I've got nothing against a military funeral. But what's wrong with a small one? A dignified one? Today was all about the show. It was over the top." "How dare you, young lady. Your brother is going to receive the Medal of Honor. He deserved the biggest funeral we could give him. He was a hero. A patriot." "He wanted to be a lawyer. He only joined the Army because it's what you wanted. If it wasn't for you and your outmoded ideals, he wouldn't even have been in Iraq." "That's enough, my girl. I didn't raise you to talk to me like that. I expect some respect in my own home. Especially today. But then, why should you change now? You always were an ungrateful little wretch." Chris stepped forward. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?" The Colonel looked at Chris with a critical eye. "And just who might you be?" "Chris Austins. Sir." "He's a friend of mine, Daddy." "A friend?" said Ellen in a soft voice. "This is your British friend?"

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Colonel Burnett shot daggers at his daughter. His eyes narrowed and anger swept across his face. "You brought a date to your brother's funeral. Oh, no wonder you wanted to stay in the background! A date! Unbelievable!" "He's not my date. He's a friend. Here to support me." "Support you? And where were you when we needed your support? You should be thinking about your family!" "You're not the only one who's upset here, Daddy. You're not the only one who misses Lance." "Stop it! Both of you!" Ellen started to cry. She put her head on her husband's chest and he put his arm around her. "See now. You've upset your mother. Perhaps you should leave. You and your young man." "I think he's right," said Chris. Beth looked up at Chris. Her eyes were wet with tears once more. She nodded and strode towards the gate. Chris followed a few paces behind. Even when they were through the gate, he could still feel the eyes of every guest on him. They didn't speak as they walked back to the parking lot, nor throughout the drive home. It was only when they pulled up outside her house that Beth spoke. "You stuck up for me." It was a statement, not a question. "I know. I'm sorry about that. It only gave your father another reason to lay into you." "Don't apologize. He'd have had a go at me over you at some point anyway. So don't be sorry. Actually, I liked it. I've never had anyone stick up for me before. Except for Lance, and he's my brother—that's his job. Was his job. I guess he won't be sticking up for me anymore, will he?" Her smile was the saddest Chris had ever seen. He wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes and bring back the sparkle that had been there when she'd first seen him the day before. He wanted to sweep her up in her arms, love her, and protect her. Tell her everything would be all right and that he'd look after her. But he couldn't. He knew that in less than two weeks he'd by flying out of her life again, and he'd go back to being the guy on the other side of the computer screen. "It'll be okay, Beth. The pain will fade with time. You'll remember the good times you spent with Lance. All the happy times. It'll be okay."

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"Maybe. Maybe not. Guess I'll have to wait and see. Come on, let's go inside and watch a movie. I need to take my mind off things. I've got ice cream too." "Ice cream always helps." As soon as they entered the house, Beth pushed Chris against the door, threw herself against him and kissed him. She caught him off guard and slipped her tongue between his lips. He kissed her back until he realized what he was doing. He gently pushed her away. "Beth, we shouldn't. It's not right." "To hell with what's right. Who decides what's right anyway? You? Me? Everyone else? I want you, Chris. I want you now. I haven't stopped thinking about the way you kissed me last night. It was like something out of a dream—so perfect. Until you pushed me away. I know I should be thinking about Lance today, and I have been, but you've been there too, always at the back of my mind. The whole time I was standing next to you, all I wanted was to kiss you. Touch you. Feel you. If losing Lance has taught me anything, it's that you have to make the most of what you have. And while I have you here, I want to do all the things we've talked about online." "All of them?" "All of them. Every last one. I know people will say we've only just met, but I've known you for two years. And I think I've been in love with you all that time. I know that sounds crazy—" "It's not crazy." "Then what's wrong? We've got two years to catch up on, and only two weeks to do it." "And that's the problem. I'm only here for two weeks. Then it's bye-bye and back to London. What happens then?" "Let's worry about that later." She held his face in her hands and pulled his lips towards hers. They kissed again, their tongues wrestling. Chris put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. Her soft flesh pressed against his hard body. He could feel her erect nipples on his chest. His cock throbbed and grew and was painful confined in his tight shorts. He ran his hands up her back, then down to her ass. Her skirt was thin, and what he felt through it surprised him. "You're not wearing knickers." Her eyes had all the sparkle and life of the day before. Her smile was wicked and sexy. She took his hand and dragged him

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up to the stairs to her bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her lips against his. He went to wrap his arms around her, but she stopped him and moved his hands to her breasts. Chris squeezed gently and she moaned into the kiss. She ripped open his shirt, ran her hands along his torso and through his thin chest hair. After pushing the shirt from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, she ran her nails down his back. Chris shivered. Beth tore her blouse off and threw it on the floor. Chris massaged her breasts until she stepped away. She hooked her thumbs into her waistband and said, "No knickers?" She wiggled out of the skirt and it fell to the floor. "No. Just really small ones." She wore a tiny black mesh thong that told Chris she kept her pubic hair neat and tidy. Her bra was the same material and stretched to breaking point by her breasts. Her nipples were hard. The black material contrasted with her white flesh. Her skin was smooth and her stomach flat and firm. She turned to show him her rear. The thong disappeared between her ass cheeks so that it looked as if she was wearing nothing. She threw herself at him and they tumbled onto the bed as they kissed. He scooped her breasts out of her bra and caressed them. He teased her by avoiding her nipples and she gasped each time he brushed them. He bent to suck on the hard buds. Her mouth and eyes opened wide and her moans of pleasure were barely audible. She reached behind, unclasped her bra and slipped it off. "Oh... oh, my god... oh, Chris, don't you dare stop. That feels so good." She flung the bra across the room and put both hands on the back of his neck. She pulled him to her tighter. "Oh, yeah... Oh, that's nice... Oh, my god, don't stop." He pulled away. She whimpered a small protest, but he was only pausing to swap nipples. He alternated nipples, sucking, flicking and rubbing. Eventually, he pulled away and sat up. "Oh, Chris," she said. "That was so nice." "There's more to come," he said. She smiled. "Me first." She pushed him onto his back and sat astride him. She kissed his chest, ran her fingers down his torso, and fumbled to open his trousers. She reached inside and

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squeezed his cock. He lifted his hips so that she could yank his trousers and shorts down. She sat up straight and stroked his cock. "You know, Chris. I don't want to wait anymore. There's so much I could do while I've got you like this, but I don't want to wait." She pulled her gusset aside and lifted herself up so that she could guide him towards her pussy. She rubbed his cockhead along her entrance and then held him still while she pushed down and engulfed him. "Ohhh, that feels so good. Do you now how long it's been? Have I told you that? Have I?" "Once or twice." "Nearly three years. Three years, Chris." She rocked back and forth. "That feels so good. I feel so full." He held her hips as she rocked faster. He pushed his hips up to force his cock deeper into her. She cried out and moved faster still. Their fucking intensified, until her whole body tensed as her orgasm started. She shook as it overtook her. Chris held still while she came. She collapsed onto his chest and he held her hips and thrust up into her until he pumped his semen inside her. She lay on top of him and breathed heavily. Chris was exhausted too. He stared at the ceiling and held her in his arms. He could have lain there all day and all night. "Beth… That was…" "I know. Thank you, Chris. Thank you." "You're thanking me? That's a first." "I thank you all the time." "No. I mean, it's the first time a woman's thanked me after sex." "I was brought up properly, Chris. You always thank someone who does something nice for you." She raised her head and brushed his lips with hers. "And that was very, very nice." "Well, get ready for more, 'cause I'm not done yet," he said. "You are for now, Casanova. I haven't come like that for as long as I can remember. I don't think I could stand it again just yet." Beth stood and stretched. "Let's go eat that ice cream and watch that movie. Then you can do whatever you want to me all night long."

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Chris got off the bed, stood behind Beth and put his arms around her waist. "We could have a shower first. You know, to freshen up." "Oh, no you don't, mister. I know your game. You told me all your tricks, remember. We get in the shower, get all soapy and wind up fucking again. Well, I'm not falling for it. You'll have to find a whole bunch of new moves." Chris grinned. "Guess I'll have to." "Not that you'll need them. Once I get used to your cock inside me, you can fuck me whenever and wherever you want. Just about. I'm not about to go do it in my parents' backyard or anything stupid. But until then, you'll just have to go easy with me. Okay?"

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Chapter Three Chris pulled his up trousers from around his ankles while Beth dressed. Then they went downstairs to the lounge. There was a large-screen home cinema system against one wall. A twoseat couch faced it. "The DVDs are in the cabinet over there," Beth said. "Go choose one while I get the ice cream. Any preference?" "What flavors have you got?" "Regular Chocolate or Double Choc Chip." He grinned at her. "So, I like chocolate. What's the big deal?" "Nothing. I'm just not very surprised, that's all." She went to into the kitchen and Chris browsed through her DVD collection. "These are all chick-flicks," he called. "What did you expect? Porno?" "Now there's an idea. Maybe we could make our own later. Have you got a camcorder? Or should I drive out to Wal-Mart and buy one?" He selected one of the discs at random, figuring they would all be the same anyway and loaded it into the player. He sat down just as she brought through the tub of ice cream and two spoons. She flopped down next to him. "What did you pick?" He held up the case. "Oh, cool," she said. "When Harry met Sally. It's a classic. You know the scene where Meg Ryan fakes the orgasm in the diner?" "Erm, I don't think I've ever seen it." "You haven't? Oh, well, you'll know which I mean when we get to it. Well, I've always wanted to do something like that, but never had the guts. Do you think we could drive out to some town where no one knows me and I could give it a go?" The movie started and Beth popped the lid of the tub. "Dive in." The ice cream didn't last very long, and when it was gone,

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she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. As the movie progressed, she lay down with her head on his lap. She had her hand on his thigh. Chris watched her watching the movie. She rubbed his thigh. He wasn't sure if she knew she was doing it. But he knew. His cock started to grow again. Beth looked up at him. "Tell me that it's not Billy Crystal that having that effect on you." "Don't worry. It's not." "I didn't think so." She smiled. "It's someone a lot closer. And a whole lot sexier." "Really? Who would that be then?" She rubbed the growing bulge. Chris groaned. "Stop teasing." "Okay." She pulled down his zipper and pulled his erection into the open. "That better?" "A bit." "How about this?" She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock. Chris nodded. "Getting better." "You are a challenge, aren't you?" Beth got on her hands and knees and took his cock into her mouth. Chris moaned. She lifted her head. "Looks like I'm making progress." He savored her blowjob. It had been a long time since he'd been sucked. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her warm mouth and tongue as she sucked and licked. He ruffled her hair then moved his hand down her back. He slipped his hand under her waistband and thong, but couldn't reach her pussy. He settled for rubbing her ass. When he felt his orgasm approaching, Chris lifted her head. "You better stop that." "It's okay. I want to taste you." "But didn't you tell me that no one's ever come in your mouth before?" "So? Didn't I tell you I wanted to try everything we've ever chatted about? So just release those little swimmers as soon as they're ready." She bent down and took him back into her mouth. She was more aggressive, using her hand as well as her mouth. She didn't have to wait long. Chris bucked his hips and came. She swallowed.

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"How was it?" he asked. "Not as bad as I thought. Wanna try it?" "Sorry?" "Kiss me. You should still taste it." He kissed her. "Not exactly double choc chip is it? Besides, I know something that tastes much better." "What?" "You." He got up from the couch and knelt on the floor. He positioned Beth so that she was sitting with her ass on the edge and spread her legs, forcing her skirt high up her thighs. He pulled off her thong and sniffed it. "Best perfume there is." Beth giggled. He lifted her leg and kissed the inside of her knee. He licked all the way up her inner-thigh, and then did the same with other leg. He rubbed her legs and bent his head to her crotch. The strength of her scent increased and he breathed it in deeply. He kissed her pussy as he would her mouth, forcing his tongue past her lips. She squealed. He slid his hands around her waist then up her back. His thumbs traced the curve of her breasts. Her skin was soft and smooth. She held his head as he kissed her lower lips. She caressed his shoulders, slid her fingers through his hair, and made soft animal sounds deep in her throat. She gripped his head tighter. Chris lapped up through her slit and flicked across her clit and she gasped. He cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer. She arched her back and rocked her hips. He settled into a rhythmic lapping, up her slit and across her clit. The air was thick with her aroma and her taste filled his mouth. She held him tight, thrust back against his mouth, and panted. Short, harsh gasps for breath that grew in intensity. Then she squealed. A high-pitched squeal. Her body tensed then went limp. Her hands fell at her sides. Chris lay between her legs and rested his head on her thigh. He was in heaven and almost fell asleep enjoying the closeness. Time stood still. It was only when the credits rolled on the movie that Chris realized just how long they had lain there. Beth's breathing had returned to normal. She lifted her head. "Chris... oh, Chris... wow!" He moved his face level with hers and looked into her eyes. "Recovered?" "I want you, Chris. Right now, right here on the couch."

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He held his cock and guided it towards her pussy. She reached down and together they rubbed his cock up and down her slit, covering the head with Beth's ample lubrication. "Now," she said. She let go of his cock, put her hands around his waist, and pulled him into her. He slid in with ease. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly open. She was beautiful. He pulled out slowly and stopped when only the head of his cock was inside her. He waited for a moment before plunging back in. He repeated this several times, each time quicker than the last. They settled into a rhythm. Beth met every thrust and moaned. Her moans grew louder as they danced to the beat of their own symphony. Chris felt his orgasm building and increased the tempo until he was pounding her with all he had. She appeared to enjoy it. Her moans peaked in silent scream, her body tensed, and she came again. She trembled beneath him, and he couldn't hold back. With a low grunt he came. He collapsed on top of her, and they lay still until he realized he was falling asleep. He pushed himself off her and stood. "Come on, let's go to bed." "But it's too early to sleep." "Who said anything about sleeping?" **** The Colonel climbed in bed next to his wife. She snapped her book shut and put it on her bedside table, then turned off her light and lay down, turning her back on him. "Ellen?" He put his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off. "Ellen, speak to me. You haven't said a word since everyone left." She grunted and pulled the bedclothes up around her neck. "Ellen. Please." She turned over and propped herself on her elbow. "Didn't I tell you not to make a scene? Didn't I tell you not to make things worse with Beth?" "But she brought a date to the funeral." "No she didn't," Ellen snapped. "She brought a friend. A close friend, as I understand." "If he's such a close friend then why haven't we seen him before?"

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"He's from England. They met on the Internet a couple of years ago. I think this is the first time they've met in person." "Even better. She brought someone she hardly knows." "She knows him quite well enough. He's the closest friend she's got. And he probably knows Beth better than you do. The fact that he flew all this way to comfort her shows you how much he cares." "How do you know who he is anyway?" "Because, Bobby, unlike you, I talk to our daughter. And I listen, too." The Colonel sighed. "I messed up again, didn't I?" "Damn right you did." She adjusted her weight and brushed away some hair that had fallen into her face. "Look, Bobby, I don't know who's right about the kind of funeral Lance would have wanted. But what I do know is that the last thing he would have wanted is for the two of you to be fighting over it. You need to sort this out. And quickly." "I've tried." "Not hard enough, you haven't. I want you to go and see her tomorrow and apologize. Just apologize and then we can try and get back to normal." **** When Chris woke next morning, Beth had already showered and dressed. He sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Going somewhere?" "Work. I'm sorry, babe. I wish I didn't have to, but I've haven't got a choice. If my cases sit unattended then I'll wind up losing commissions, and I can't afford that." "Nobody will cover?" "Not unless it's prearranged. If I go in today, I can sort out some cover and then book some vacation for the rest of your stay." "Okay. I'm sure I'll be able to find something to occupy me for the day. After all, this is such a happening town. There's so much to do." She punched his arm. "Hey, don't be mean. This is my home." "Sorry," He said as he rubbed the spot where she'd hit him. It hadn't hurt, but he played along.

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She bent to kiss his forehead. "I'll leave my house keys on the counter in the kitchen. Be sure to lock up if you go out. And if you run into any hot, young blondes, just remember you're here to see me, not go on a pussy-hunt." Chris watched her from the bedroom window as she drove away, then he showered, dressed and made breakfast. He watched some daytime television, concluding that it was as bad in the States as it was in Britain, and then decided to take a trip to Wal-Mart. He'd heard that the American superstores dwarfed the ones in England and wanted to see for himself. He picked up the keys from the kitchen and headed for the front door. Someone knocked on it as he got there. He opened it. Beth's father stood in the entrance looking at the floor. He lifted his head and looked surprised for a second before his expression became harder. He twisted his wedding ring around his finger as he spoke. "Is my daughter home? I have something I need to say." "No. I'm sorry. She's gone to work." "Oh. I didn't think she would be working today." He tuned to walk away then turned back. "So what are you doing here?" "Beth insisted I stay to save on hotel bills." "And that's the only reason, is it?" He didn't sound convinced. "I'm not stupid, son. You don't cross the Atlantic just to comfort someone at a funeral. I think that perhaps you and I should have a conversation. Don't you? I'll talk. You listen. Understand?" He strode through the door and into the lounge. Chris closed the door and followed him. "Look, Mr. Burnett, I don't know what you think is going on here, but I swear, I was just—" "Colonel." "I'm sorry?" "It's Colonel Burnett. I've served my country my whole career and risked my life to ensure her security. I've damn well earned my title, so I'd appreciate it if you'd show some respect and do me the courtesy of using it." "Well, in that case, Colonel, you can address me as Dr. Austins. I studied full time for seven years and had to pay for it myself by working evenings and weekends in a shit-house

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restaurant. My parents weren't wealthy. You earned your title, and I've earned mine." "And what exactly are you a doctor of?" "I hold a Ph.D. in Economics and Management Studies from the LSE on top of my first class Bachelor's and Master's degrees from Kings College, Cambridge." "What the hell is the LSE?" "The London School of Economics." "Well, that all sounds very impressive. But it still doesn't give you the right to disrupt my son's funeral." "Now, hang on just a sec. I didn't disrupt anything. All I did was stand next to Beth and support her when she broke down. You didn't see Beth standing at the graveside in tears, did you? Blaming herself for his death?" "You, a complete and utter stranger, showed up at my house, with my daughter, and started an argument." "Forgive me, Colonel, because all I remember doing was defending Beth when you called her an ungrateful wretch." "She is an ungrateful wretch. Fancy talking to me that way, questioning the way we treated Lance. He fought terrorists to keep our country safe!" The Colonel's arms were as expressive as his words. "It's my understanding that there weren't all that many terrorists in Iraq until we invaded." "You're one of those liberal, anti-war assholes, aren't you? Don't you remember nine-eleven?" "Yes, I do. And I remember seven-seven, too." "Remember what now?" "Colonel, America isn't the only country to suffer at the hands of Islamic fundamentalists." "You mean that thing on the subway in London?" Chris nodded. "I was there. I got off the train at King's Cross just before the third bomb ripped through it." "Weren't those boys home-grown? They were from somewhere in the north of England, weren't they?" "They were. But the guys who hit the twin towers weren't from Iraq, either. The invasion—" "It wasn't an invasion. It was liberation. We freed the Iraqi people from a murderous tyrant."

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"The invasion had nothing to do with nine-eleven. And if it wasn't for the invasion, there probably wouldn't even have been a seven-seven. It was all about US oil interests. Plain and simple. George Dubbya was finishing the job his Daddy started." Chris's heart was racing and adrenaline pumped around his body. He felt hot and knew his face had reddened—it always did when he was angry. The Colonel stood straight and tall, his hands behind his back. Chris could see the same suspicion in his eyes that had been there during their encounter the day before. His eyes narrowed. "I see. I see." His voice was so cold and quiet that it chilled Chris's blood. "So it's you who's been putting these crazy ideas into Lizzie's head. I should have known from the look of you when I first saw you." "Actually, Beth and I met in an anti-war chat room two years ago. She's always been against the invasion." "Nonsense. My daughter isn't a traitor." The Colonel turned on his heel and walked towards the window. He stared out into the street. "She's a good girl, my Lizzie. Not a traitor." "You're right, she's not a traitor. She just doesn't listen to all the propaganda that comes out of Washington. She has far too much integrity for that. She makes up her own mind. She listens to all sides of an argument and forms her own opinion. I don't think I've ever met anyone less influenced by other people's rhetoric. Forgive me, Colonel, but it seems to me that you don't know Beth as well as you think you do. Or as well as you should." The Colonel rounded on Chris. "Are you questioning my relationship with my daughter, young man?" "Not at all. I don't think I could because I'm not sure you even have one." "How dare you! What would you know about my relationship with Lizzie?" "Only what she's told me—which I'll admit is a bit onesided. But I'll tell you what I do know. I know that for years she tried her hardest to catch your eye, to get your approval. But you only ever had eyes for your perfect son. She was top of her class, she learned to play the piano and the flute, her achievements

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were every bit as impressive as her brother's. But you never saw them. You looked past her to Lance." "That's ridiculous." "Do you have any idea how that made her feel—to do so well and still be second best?" "She was never second best. She's my Lizzie. My baby girl. I adore her. This is all rubbish." He jabbed his finger towards Chris. "You have no idea what you're talking about." "Are you sure? Look, Colonel, I have no doubt that you love Beth—what sort of man doesn't love his daughter. But did you ever show her?" The Colonel said nothing. "When was the last time you held her? Or kissed her forehead? When was the last time you said 'I love you, Beth'? Colonel, do you have any idea how Beth felt when you nominated Lance for West Point?" "She was proud. We all were." "It never occurred to you that she might wonder why you didn't nominate her? Because that's what she did." "I'd have thought it was obvious." "It was obvious to Beth. It was because you didn't think she was good enough." The Colonel stared at Chris. "That's not true. She would have done at least as well as Lance did. Maybe even better. I'm sure of it." "Then why didn't you nominate her?" The Colonel raised his voice. "Because she's my special little girl. I couldn't let her join the military—Lord knows what might have happened to her. I'm her father. I have to protect her." "But have you ever told her that?" The Colonel turned back to the window. "I didn't think so," said Chris. There was a long pause. The Colonel ran his fingers though his short grey hair. Chris waited. "Are you screwing her?" the Colonel said in a calm, quiet voice. "Sorry?"

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The Colonel turned back towards him, his fists tightly clenched. He spoke through gritted teeth. "It's a simple enough question, son. Are you screwing my daughter?" He exhaled. "I know how it works. A man doesn't fly halfway around the world to see a girl unless he thinks he's going to get a little pussy." "I don't think that's any of your business, Colonel." "What did I just tell you? She's my daughter, it's my job to protect her. Of course it's my business when some asshole tries to take advantage of her." Chris shook his head. "You've got it wrong. You don't need to protect her from me. I would never take advantage of her. Never hurt her." "Really? So what happens when your vacation is over and you go back to England. Don't you think that will hurt her?" It was Chris's turn to raise his voice. "I'm not taking advantage of her." He calmed. "If anything, she's taking advantage of me." "So you are screwing her. I'm going to make this real simple for you, boy. Get the hell out of River's Crossing or so help me God, I'll dig out my service revolver and shoot you dead." "I'll leave if and when Beth asks me to. And if you have to kill me, then maybe Beth will be better off when you're locked up." Colonel Burnett took a step towards Chris. "Don't play with me, son. I've killed for my country, I wouldn't think twice about killing for my family. She's all I have left. I won't let you take her from me." He marched out of the house and slammed the door behind him. The meeting shook Chris. The Colonel's eyes had told him he wasn't lying. But there was no way he was going to let a mad ex-serviceman run him out of town. Now that he'd spent time with Beth, he didn't want to leave her. He was already dreading going back to London—he wasn't about to bring that date forward. **** The Colonel slammed the front door behind him and marched into his study, slamming that door shut, too. He sat behind his desk. Ellen had laid out the morning newspaper for

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him. He put on his reading glasses and glanced at the cover stories, but he couldn't concentrate. Who was that young man? What gave him the right to say those things? The Colonel had always looked after his family—always done right by them. So what if he'd been a little cold at times? It was good for the children. It gave them backbone. Gave them character. Ellen came in with his coffee. She put it on the desk next to the paper. "I take it things didn't go well with Beth." "What makes you say that?" "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the way the whole building shook when you slammed the doors. Or maybe it's just the look on your face." The Colonel huffed and turned the newspaper over to read the sports pages. "For your information, she wasn't there." "So what took you so long? You didn't drive out to the office did you? You know she hates that." The Colonel looked up at his wife. "That… Englishman is staying at her house. Her house, Ellen. And in all likelihood they are sharing the same bed. Getting up to all sorts. I certainly wouldn't put it past him. Didn't we raise our daughter to know better than to let strange men stay the night?" "I've told you, Bobby, he's not a stranger. He's her closest friend." "Pah. Closest friend indeed. He's from the other side of the Atlantic, for Christ's sake. How can they be close?" "Well, they exchange e-mails every day and they chat every night." "Chat? You mean she's been running up a huge phone bill?" Ellen shook her head. "No, Bobby. I mean on the Internet. Beth calls it 'Instant Messaging' or something." "And what the hell's that?" "I think it works like this, she types something and it appears on his screen straight away. And when he types something, she sees it." "And she thinks this is knowing someone well, does she?" "Oh, that's not all. I know that they use these fancy Internet phones that you can make free calls with." "Okay, so tell me this, when he showed up the other day, how did she know it was him? Huh? Tell me that. I mean,

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talking on the phone and sending each other these instant things is all well and good, but how did she know what he looked like? You can't tell me she recognized his voice?" "Oh Bobby, have you never used a computer? They have sent each other hundreds of pictures. I've seen some of the ones he sent her. I think he's rather handsome, actually. Oh, and they use those webcam things." "Webcams? This is silly. How does she know he is who he claims he is? How does she know he's not some mad rapist? Don't pedophiles use the Internet to groom their victims these days? How do we know he's not one of those?" "Because pedophiles like young children, and Beth hardly qualifies for that. As you reminded her when you asked why you didn't have grandchildren yet." "He claims to have a doctorate in economics or some such. How do we know he's not lying?" "Bobby, Beth's not stupid. She's knows how to handle herself. She hid behind an alias until she felt she knew him. Then she only told him enough about herself to get him to tell her about himself—then she looked him up." "Looked him up? How?" Ellen sighed. "On the Internet. She put his name into a search engine and found his entry on his company's website. He's genuine—or as genuine as we can expect him to be." The Colonel sipped his coffee and put the cup back down. "And how do you know all this, Ellen?" "Because I asked Beth all the same questions. She knows what she's doing, Bobby. Just leave her to it. Either they'll hit it off and she might actually have found the man she's meant to be with, or they won't, in which case he'll fly back to England and we'll never see him again." "Oh, I shouldn't worry about him sticking around for much longer," said the Colonel. "What have you done, Bobby?" "I set him straight. I told him to get out of town and leave my Lizzie alone." **** "He said what?" Beth's face twisted with anger. She was sitting on the couch next to Chris.

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"He told me to get out of River's Crossing." "Not that bit. The bit about the gun." "He said he'd killed for his country and wouldn't hesitate to kill for his family. Look, Beth, I shouldn't have told you. I'm sure he didn't mean it. He was upset. He's just trying to protect his family." "Like hell he is." "You're all he's got left now." "He's just trying to control me, like he did when I was a teenager. The nerve of the man, trying to dictate who I can and can't see. I'm thirty-two years old! Not twelve." "Calm down, Beth. I wish I hadn't said anything. I shouldn't have said anything." "You did good telling me. And I'll calm down right after I've been around there and told the Colonel to stay the hell out of my life!" "I don't think that's a good idea. It'll only make matters worse." "How could things get any worse? He's threatened to shoot you!" "He could carry out his threat, that's how. Look, why don't we just go out for pizza or something. Maybe catch a movie? I've always wanted to see a movie in an American theater. Do they really have hot fudge sauce on the popcorn?" "I've got a better idea. He told you to get out of River's Crossing, right?" Chris nodded. "Well, that's what we'll do. I've arranged cover for my vacation. I'm yours until you go back to London. So let's take a trip somewhere. Any mileage restrictions on that rental of yours?" "Not as such, but the more miles I do, the more I have to pay when I take it back." "Okay, then we'll take it back to the airport and get a flight somewhere. Where do you fancy?" He shrugged. "What about Vegas? I've been promising myself a trip to Vegas forever." "Fine by me."

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"Great. Let's go pack." "What? Now?" "Sure, why not? If we leave here soon and catch a flight straight away, we could be in a hotel on the strip in the early hours of the morning. It's a five-hour flight, three-hour time difference." "You seem to know a worrying amount about this." "Like I said, I've been promising myself a trip for ages. I did my research long ago." **** Chris was in the lounge sorting through his passport and car rental papers when there was a knock at the door. Beth answered it. "Mom." "Beth, sweetie. Your father told me what happened this morning." "Really? He told you he threatened to shoot Chris." Ellen frowned. "No. He just said they'd had an argument and he'd told him to leave town." She looked around the hallway at packed suitcases. "Going somewhere?" "Chris and I have decided to take a trip out of town. I need to get away, Mom. If I let things calm down then I might actually be able to talk to Daddy when I get back." "Well, he's not going to like it. But I think you're right. He needs some time and space as much as you do. He really is very sorry about all this, but you know what he's like. He's a stubborn old man who lets his pride get in the way of his feelings. I just hope the two of you can work it out." She clapped her hands together. "So, where is this young man of yours? I didn't get a proper introduction yesterday. I think I should look him over before he whisks you off somewhere. Just to make sure he's good enough for my little girl." "Oh, he's good enough," said Beth. She led Ellen into the lounge. Chris stood up as Beth introduced him. "Mrs. Burnett." He held out his hand and she shook it. "It's Chris, isn't it? It's nice to finally meet you. Beth talks about you a lot." Chris glanced at Beth and she blushed. "Do you?" Ellen nodded. "Oh, yes. All the time. Well, let me look at you." She stood back and made a show of looking him up and

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down. "Yes, I think you'll do. I just hope you are as genuine as you seem." "Mom!" "Oh, come on Beth. You hear about it all the time. People on the Internet hiding behind their keyboards. Pretending to be someone they're not." Chris shook his head. "Not me. I don't see the point." "Good. Although, if you are lying, I might just let Bobby shoot you. Well, I'd better go. Enjoy your trip." **** They had been in the air for half an hour. The lights were low to allow people to sleep. The first of two in-flight movies had started on the LCD screen built into the headrest of the seat in front of Chris. He had the aisle seat. Beth was by the window. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Hmm, this is nice. Isn't it? Flying away together. I wish it was for forever instead of just a few days." "I'm sure a few days in Vegas will seem like a lifetime." He rested his head against hers and reached for her hand. "Have you ever been before?" she asked. "No. It's been one of the places on my list for a long time. But I never thought I'd go." Beth sighed. "Where should we stay? We have to stay on The Strip, but which hotel?" "I'd like to try the Mandalay Bay." "Why?" "It's in a Robbie Williams song. The one about the monkey with a gun. Ever since I heard that song, I've wanted to stay there." "The Mandalay Bay it is then. Will they have room?" "I'd imagine. They're supposed to have over four thousand." She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "Chris?" "What?" She moved his hand to her breast. "Do you think…? You know, I've always wanted to… you know?" "Join the mile high club?" "Exactly." "So you want to sneak off to the toilet while everyone's asleep and get down and dirty?"

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"Yep." "I'm game if you are. But perhaps one of us better go and see if there's enough room first. The flight from London was a similar sized plane to this and the facilities were tiny. Barely enough room to sit down." "I'll go. Get out of the way." Chris watched her ass sway down the aisle and then watched her breasts sway on the way back. She didn't look very happy. "The bathroom's minuscule. There's no way we both fit in." "That's a shame. I mean it's not like we can go for it here in full view of everyone." "Maybe not all the way." She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "But I'm sure we can do something. Call a flight attendant. Tell her we'd like a blanket to cover us while we sleep." Chris did as she asked and unfolded the blanket. Beth leaned into him and made sure that the blanket covered as much of them as possible. She kissed him and, under the cover of the blanket, rubbed his cock through his pants. He kissed her back harder and caressed her breast. She moaned. "Beth, be quiet. If someone hears they'll wonder what we're up to." "Let them wonder." She unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and stroked it. She was careful to keep the movement as small as possible so as not to disturb the blanket. Chris groaned. "Chris…" Her smile was wicked. "Be quiet or someone might wonder what we're up to." "Let them wonder." Beth giggled, then lifted the blanket up and ducked underneath it. Despite the awkward position, she took him into her mouth and sucked, licked, and stroked. He gripped the armrests tight and held his breath when he came. Beth emerged from underneath the blanket with a cheeky grin and a trickle of semen at the corner of her mouth. "Beth—" She silenced him by putting her finger to his lips, and then kissed him. When she forced her tongue into his mouth, a small amount of his offering came with it. Chris swallowed without realizing what he'd done.

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Beth sat back in her seat. "No need to thank me, but you can pay me back later." She opened and closed her legs to force home her point, then rested her head on his shoulder. The couple settled to watch the movie but fell asleep before the end. Chris woke an hour from Vegas. He roused Beth by repaying her earlier compliment and fingering her to a silent orgasm. By the time they had taken a taxi to the Strip and booked into the Mandalay Bay, it was after two in the morning. Chris wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep. He was thankful that Beth felt the same way. **** The Colonel got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stepped into his slippers and went into the bedroom to dress. Ellen was still in bed—she often slept late these days, but the Colonel had always been an early riser. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and admired the reflection. He'd kept himself in shape—he looked good for his age. Sure, his chest hair was grey and thinner than it used to be, but that was all that was wrong. Ellen woke as he dressed. "Good morning," he said. "Morning." He buttoned his shirt and sat on the bed. "Ellen, I'm sorry about yesterday. I… I over reacted. If Lizzie is sure that this man of hers is on the level, then I should trust her." "Yes. You should." "So I thought that after I'd been to see Lance, I'd go over there and apologize. To both of them." "That's a good idea. Especially after you threatened to shoot him." She raised her eyebrows. "That slipped your mind I guess? I mean, it's only a tiny insignificant detail." "Ellen, I… I was angry. It was an empty threat. Surely they both know that? You know what I'm like. I let my mouth run away from me when I get angry." "Yes, well., they both took it seriously enough. So I guess a huge apology is in order. The biggest you've ever made." "Yes. Yes. I'll say sorry. I'll be contrite. And then everything will be fine. I'll get to know this—what's his name?" "Chris."

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"I'll get to know Chris. Take him for a beer, that sort of thing." "It's sounds like it's a good idea to me. But it will have to wait." "Wait. Why?" "Because they've gone on a trip. They want to spend some time alone without your interference." "A trip? My interference? Where have they gone? For how long?" "She didn't say. But she'll be fine. She has her cell with her and she'll call if anything's wrong. But I don't expect anything will be. I expect they'll be having the time of their lives." **** Chris and Beth spent the next few days touring the resort hotels along the Strip. They took in some shows. Ate fine food. Ate junk food. They played some slot machines and won a modest amount then promptly lost it again. They went on a helicopter ride to see the Grand Canyon and Hoover Dam and ate lunch at a reservation in the Canyon itself. And every chance they got, they pleasured each other in every way they could think of. Beth even modeled for Chris as he took some very intimate photographs. He told her they'd keep him warm during London's cold winter. After five days and five nights, Chris suggested it was time to leave. "If we fly back now, we can spend a couple of days in River's Crossing before I have to go back to London." Chris sat up in bed, resting against the headboard. The last sex session had tired him out. "But I don't want to spend any time in River's Crossing. As soon as we get back, we'll have to deal with my folks. And I don't wanna deal with my folks." She folded her arms across her chest. "I suppose we could stay one more night." Beth bounced in excitement. When she acted like this, she put Chris in mind of how teenage cheerleaders were portrayed on TV—a complete contrast to her usual calm manner. "Excellent! Let's make a real night of it." "What do you want to do?" he asked.

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"Let's go and blow a stupid amount of money in the casino downstairs. And I don't mean on the slots." "How stupid?" "How much you got?" **** "So? This was your idea, what shall we play?" Chris asked. He and Beth stood in the entrance. The casino was packed. Over the past few days, Chris had come to think of them as mere factories designed to part people from their money. "How about crabs? I've always wanted to play that. It looks so exciting." "Crabs?" "You know—the one where you throw the dice." "Oh, you mean craps. With a p. Do you know how to play?" "How hard can it be? All I have to do is throw the dice. You can do the betting." "You're on. Let's find a table." Most of the gaming tables were surrounded by people. It took them a while to find a craps table with any spare room. They slotted into the group, and Chris tried to explain to Beth how the betting worked while she waited for her turn to shoot. When it was her turn, she asked him once more what she had to do. "Throw them so they hit the backboard. And just try not to throw a seven." Beth threw and Chris bet. And they did well. "You're on a roll tonight, babe," said a portly man as Beth made her fifth point in a row. "Don't say that that," she said with a giggle. "You'll jinx it." Sure enough, she rolled a seven on her next shot and the dice passed on to the next person. Chris didn't look too disappointed. "You were great!" "Really?" "Yeah. Look how much we won." He showed her the chips he'd accumulated. "How much is there?" "About four thousand." "Dollars?" "No, bananas. Of course it's dollars."

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"Oh, wow! Lady Luck must be smiling on us tonight. Let's play something else." "How about blackjack?" "I don't know how to play that." "It's easy. Come on, I'll show you." They split the winnings and found a blackjack table. But luck deserted them, and they gave up after losing most of their craps winnings. "How much have we got left?" "Just under five hundred between us." "Damn. I told you I couldn't play the stupid game. I'm not any good at cards." "Well, I was as bad as you. Still, it was fun. Wasn't it?" "Yeah. It was. But only 'cause I was with you." Chris chuckled. "Shall we give the roulette a go before we leave?" "Why not?" They had a better time at the roulette table. Through some cautious betting, Chris managed to stay just ahead of the house. He split bets, bet on columns and rows. Beth stuck to betting on red or black. "Looks like The Lady is back with us," said Chris after collecting on another winning four number split. "Seems so," said Beth. She smiled her wicked smile and raised her eyebrows. Chris had discovered that this signaled she was about to do something unexpected. "But it would be more fun if the stakes were higher." "What d'you mean?" "This…" She took a hundred dollar chip from him and planted it in the center of box thirty-two. "My age," she said, by way of explanation. "You know the odds are thirty-eight to one." "Like I said, it's more exciting that way." The croupier spun the wheel and released the ball. There was a flurry of betting from the others at the table before he called no more bets. Everyone went silent while they waited for the ball to settle in a slot. "Red—Thirty-two." Beth cheered. "Ha ha. How much did I win?"

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"Thirty-five times your stake. Three-and-a-half thousand." "In one go! Told you this was more exciting. Think I can do it again?" "The odds are nearly fifteen-hundred-to-one against." Beth took one of the thousand dollar chips and placed it on number twelve. "My birthday." Once more the wheel and ball were set in motion and once more the croupier called no more bets. The ball seemed to refuse to slow down. It hurtled around the wheel, bouncing in all directions. Beth gripped Chris' hand so tightly it hurt. Finally, the ball settled. "Red—Twelve." "Yeah!" Beth screamed. She threw her arms around Chris and kissed him. "How much is that?" "Thirty-five grand. Thirty-six with your original bet." "Really?" Beth scooped up her winnings and counted them. "You're right. This is so cool. I'm on a roll." "Let's just try not to lose it all. Okay?" "Come on, you old spoil sort. Just one more go. What are the odds of me doing it again?" Chris did a quick mental calculation. "Nearly fifty-fivethousand-to-one. I think." "This is so exciting!" Beth put fifteen thousand dollars on number twenty-seven. "Are you mad?" Chris asked. "I've still got over twenty thousand here." She held up the chips she'd kept back. "Where's you're sense of adventure?" "In the bank. Which is where that money should go as soon as possible." "Lighten up, Chris." "At least split the bet. Put it in the corner so that's it's on four numbers." "Lance would have been twenty-seven next month," she said, as if it was explanation enough. This time the flurry of activity saw a handful of bets on twenty-seven. The other punters were riding Beth's luck—or at least hoping to. Silence fell when the croupier called no more bets. The ball moved slowly. Time stood still. Chris watched in horror as the ball bounced around the wheel. This was an insane

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bet. He didn't want to watch. He looked away, watching Beth as she watched the wheel. Her face lit up a second before the croupier called the number. "Red—twenty-seven." The table erupted in a wall of noise. Complete strangers congratulated them. Chris was slapped on the back more times than he could count. Beth screamed. "I don't believe it. I really don't believe it. How much, Chris?" "Over half a mil, I reckon," said a stranger. "He's right," said Chris. Beth screamed again. "Really?" She looked upwards. "Thank you, Lance. Thank you!" "Shall we call it a night?" Chris asked. "Are you kidding?" she replied. "This night is only just beginning. Let's go find a bar. I fancy a bottle of very expensive champagne."

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Chapter Four Beth cashed in their chips. She took the 'loose change' in cash—over fourteen thousand dollars—and took a check for the remaining five hundred and fifty thousand. Rather than going to a bar, they went to the most expensive restaurant in the hotel, where they spent two hundred dollars on a bottle of vintage champagne and almost a thousand dollars in total. After they finished off dessert, Chris filled their glasses with the last of the champagne and held his glass up. "A toast—" "Isn't that supposed to come at the start of the meal?" "Does it matter?" "Not really." Beth lifted her own glass. "Good. Actually, it's not so much a toast. Just something I wanted to say." "Go on." "Beth, it's been a long time since I've felt the way I do tonight." "You mean rich?" He laughed. "No. Not rich. I mean happy. These past few days have been amazing. I came over here to be with you because you were going through hell. But I've ended up falling in love with you." "Falling in love with me? You mean you weren't before you got here? Even after two years of talking to me every day?" "Chatting on the Internet isn't the same. I knew I cared about you. And I suppose I did love you. I just didn't know it then. But I do now." "Awww, Chris, that's so sweet. I've known I loved you for ages. I just never expected I'd ever get any more from you than words on the screen. I'd resigned myself to that. I'm so glad I got more." She leaned across the table and kissed him.

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Chris put his glass down. "Do you think you could go back to the way it was before? Back to a virtual relationship?" "No," she said. "Me neither." "But I don't have a choice. Do I? You're going back to London." "I know. And I'm dreading it. I don't want to leave you. Not yet. Not ever." "Then don't." Beth put her glass on the table. "Stay here with me." "I wish I could. But my job is in London, not here." "So quit. We've just won half a million dollars. I'm sure that'd see us through until you find something here. Which you will—you're a financial whiz. Aren't you?" "But will they let me stay? Don't I need permission or something?" "A green card. You'll need a green card." "And how do I get one?" Beth squealed. "We could get married!" "What?" "Let's get married. Tonight." "Here?" "Why not? This is Vegas. Come on, let's do it. Let's get married." Chris thought for a moment. He wanted to, but could he? Should he? Was it even possible? He smiled as he thought of the possibilities. He looked up at his would-be-bride's wide eyes and huge grin. What was he doing? Were they really going to do get married? He shook his head and grinned. He knew he must look stupid—like a teenager at a disco whose girlfriend had just offered to sneak outside and give him a blowjob. He shrugged. "Okay. Let's do it. Why not?" "I can't think of any reasons." Beth laughed, grabbed his hand, squeezed it tightly and then let it loose. She turned from the table and waved. "Waiter!" she called. "Could we get the check, please? Oh, and can you recommend a wedding chapel?" "We have a chapel right here in the hotel, miss," the waiter said. "Really? Is it nice? Or is it some tacky place?"

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"Miss, this is Vegas. Our chapels aren't the least bit tacky." The waiter's expression told them both he wasn't serious. "Except maybe the Elvis chapels. You'd have to be crazy to get married in one of those." He scurried away to get the check. Beth paid cash and left the waiter a five hundred dollar tip. "Isn't that a bit much?" asked Chris. "It's to thank him for telling us about the chapel." Beth dragged her husband-to-be to the hotel's foyer. There was a smart, middle-aged woman on reception. "Excuse me. I understand you have a wedding chapel here in the hotel?" She beamed at Chris—her smile could have lit Las Vegas. "We'd like to get married." She held Chris's arm and pulled him close to her. "We do," said the receptionist. "But it only takes advance bookings, I'm afraid. If you want a walk-in chapel, there are plenty on the Strip. You could try the Love Birds' Nest. They do an excellent package. Dress rental for yourself, tuxedo rental for the gentleman. And they have an excellent photographer." She lowered her voice. "Actually, the photographer is my brother-inlaw. But he is very good." Within an hour, Chris was dressed in an ill-fitting tuxedo and standing in front of a minister, waiting for Beth to walk up the aisle. He couldn't believe he was going through with it. He should have seen good sense. Seen reason. But he'd been swept up by Beth's excitement. And he had to admit, he was pretty excited, too. Music began playing, and Chris turned to watch his bride walk towards him. She was wearing a short, but elegant, white dress and a veil. She smiled at him. He smiled back. When she was at his side, the minister began. After opening the service and getting them to confirm they were legally able to marry, the minister asked if they had prepared any vows, or if they'd like to use the standard ones. "I know what I want to say," said Beth. "If that's okay with you?" "Sure," said Chris. "I can think of something." Beth went first. "Chris, you've been a part of my life for two years. You've supported me from afar. Encouraged me. You've been my rock even though you weren't here. Last month I suffered the worst day of my life. My baby brother was stolen

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from me, and if it hadn't been for your support, I don't know what I would have done. Then, days before we laid him to rest, you disappeared. When I needed you most, you weren't where you'd always been—on my computer. Instead you showed up at my office. I lost my brother, but I found you. It's as if you were Lance's final gift to me. I love you, Chris. And I want to spend my life with you." Chris let the words hang in the air before he spoke. "How do I follow that? All I can think of to say is this—Beth, you are the most amazing woman I've ever had the good fortune to meet." Beth blushed. "You're intelligent, kind, resourceful..." He lowered his voice. "Can I say sexy in church?" "This isn't a church," she whispered back. Chris glanced at the minister who nodded. "Beth, you are more important to me than I ever thought possible. And I'll move heaven and hell, do whatever it takes, to be with you. Forever." After posing for photographs with the minister and hired witnesses, Chris changed back into his own clothes. Beth persuaded the chapel to sell her the dress she'd been wearing. Chris thought she'd paid over the odds for what was, after all, a secondhand dress, but she didn't care. "It's my wedding dress. I have to keep it. If only so you can rip it off me when we get back to our suite." They hired a limo to take them back to the hotel. "Could you take the long route," Beth asked. "The longer the better." She closed the privacy screen and then sat next to Chris. "Do you know what another of my fantasies is?" "Unless I'm very much mistaken, you want to make love in this limo." "I don't think we'll have time to make love—that can wait till we get back to the hotel. For now, let's just fuck." She threw herself at him and he held her tight as she straddled him. They kissed and Beth fumbled to free his cock from his pants. He lifted her dress up over her hips and was delighted to find her not wearing panties. "Now, there's a story to tell people. My wife forgot to wear panties to our wedding." "Your wife. That sounds nice. And now your wife is gonna fuck your brains out." She put her hands around his neck, and he

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held his cock steady as she lowered herself towards it. She stopped when his cock touched her pussy lips and rocked her hips back and forth so that it brushed against her clit. "You're not playing fair," said Chris. "What's not fair? You can't tell me that doesn't feel… ohhhh, nice." "You're being a naughty little cock-tease. And you know what happens to cock-teases, don't you?" "No. Tell me." Chris thrust his hips upwards, forcing his cock into her. "They get speared." "Oh, damn, Chris. That's nice." All of his cock was inside her. She continued to gyrate, rubbing her clit against his body. Chris relaxed his hips, and Beth descended with him, keeping him lodged in her pussy and her clit in contact with his crotch. She rode him with increasing vigor, driving herself towards orgasm. The motion of the limo added to her stimulation, rocking her from side to side. It wasn't long before she screamed and slammed down on Chris with all her weight. When her orgasm had subsided, Chris lifted her up and climbed from beneath her. She knelt on the limo floor, her arms on the back seat and her pert ass sticking out. Chris knelt behind her, held her hips still, and drove his cock home. "Now you're really gonna get it, my girl. You've been a naughty little tease and now you're gonna get it." "Oh yeah, baby. Give it to me. Make me come again. And again. And again." He growled and thrust into her with all the force he could muster. One thing he'd learned over the past week was that Beth liked it when he fucked her hard. She liked it when he fucked her slow too, but she seemed to like it when he rammed into her. It drove her wild, and this time was no exception. As he pounded her, she purred, mewed, and squealed. She panted and called his name and came just as he pumped his semen into her. **** Chris woke first the following morning. He gazed at Beth while she slept. She looked content. Happy. He wondered if she was dreaming. And what she dreamed about. He hoped it was him and their future together. That's what he'd dreamed about.

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They'd lived in a big house and had lots of kids. They'd grown old together and been surrounded by laughing grandchildren. But he wondered if it was possible. They'd got married, but so what? Did that mean he'd be able to stay in the county? And her father—his father-in-law—already hated him. The Colonel had threatened to kill him. What was he going to say when he found out they were married? He'd find out soon. Beth stirred. She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw him. "Good morning, Mrs. Austins. Sleep well?" "Yes, thanks, I slept really well. It must have been all the orgasms my husband gave me last night. He's got such a talented tongue. And such a wonderful cock." "My wife's mouth isn't too bad either. As for her pussy— man, it's sweet." They started laughing. She sat up and hugged him. "I love you, Chris." "I love you more," he replied. "Not possible." They got in the shower, fucked under the water, and washed each other clean. Then they went down for breakfast. It was still early, but they had to pack and check out of the hotel before eleven. A taxi took them back to the airport, where they booked onto the next available flight back to New York. By the time they arrived in River's Crossing, it was dark. "I'll have to get you a key," Beth said as she opened the front door. "After all, you're the man of the house now." Chris smiled but said nothing. He hauled their bags into the house as Beth turned on the lights. "I'll have to show you how to work the heating too. God, there're so many things to think about. D'you wanna take the bags upstairs? I'll find you some closet space. Although we may have to get a new closet." "It's okay, I'll leave my bags packed for now." "Why?" "Beth, you do know I've still got to fly back to London on Friday?" "What on earth for?" "I'm expected back behind my desk on Monday morning. If I'm not there all hell will break loose. I work on a contract—I

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can't breach it. England is nearly as litigious as America these days." "How long will you have to stay there?" Chris shrugged his shoulders. "I'm supposed to give four weeks' notice. But that's if I leave for a competitor. I might be able to talk them into a week since I'm leaving the country." There were tears in Beth's eyes. "I don't want you to go. How do I know you'll come back?" Chris walked over and hugged her. He held her head against his chest. "Of course I'll be back. I don't want to go, but I have to. Besides, I have a life over there that I need to tidy up. I don't see my family very often, but still have to say goodbye. And I've got friends. Not many, but I still need to see them. I've got to get my things packed up for shipping over here. And everything I'm not bringing I need to put on eBay. I've got to find a rental agent for the house—" "You're not selling?" She looked up at him. "Is that so that if we break up you can run back to London?" He stared into her eyes as he answered. "No. It's because the London property market is a sound investment no matter where in the world you live. I could get four or five hundred pounds a week rental for my place. That's, what? Eight hundred to a thousand dollars? It makes sense to keep it. It'll make a nice inheritance for our kids, if nothing else." "Kids? Are you serious?" "I've always wanted kids. A whole tribe. But only if it's what's you want." "Oh, Chris!" She hugged him tighter and kissed him. "Of course, I do. When can we get started? Should I stop taking my pills right away?" "Why not? By the time I get back from London, your body should be working the way it's supposed to again." "In the meantime, we could go and practice doing the thing you have to do to get kids. Lots of practice." "Sounds good to me. Lead the way." Beth bounded up the stairs. Chris left the bags in the hall and followed her, two steps at a time. ****

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"We're going to have to stop that," Chris said as Beth stepped out of the shower. He was resting against the headboard with the covers over his lower half. It was just after nine in the morning. Beth crawled onto the bed and kissed him. "Babe, I don't ever wanna stop doing that." "I meant wasting sperm—if we want kids," said Chris. "I know you like to refer to my fellas as little swimmers, but it doesn't matter if they're Olympic medal winners, if they don't go in the right hole, they're never going to find an egg." Beth giggled. "I see your point. But, I like where they're going now. Very tasty. And I hear they're good for the skin, too." "I suppose they help with bowel problems too?" "I wouldn't know about that. But I'm sure somebody somewhere has made that claim, just to get a piece of ass. You, on the other hand, can have my ass any time you want. Like now for instance." She kissed him again. "Give a bloke a rest, will you. Seriously, Beth. I'm creamcrackered." "You're what?" "I'm very tired." She straddled him and put her arms around his neck. "I can tell when you're lying, you know. I can feel it right through the duvet." "Okay. You win. One more go, and then I must get up." "I thought you already were up." She winked, climbed off him, and then got on all fours with her ass to Chris. He got out from under the covers and crawled over to her, his erect cock leading the way. "Come on, lover. Make your sweet, innocent wife scream in ecstasy." "Sweet, I'll give you," he said as he held her hips and sank his cock into her pussy. "But innocent? Who are you trying to kid?" "Ohhhh. Just shut up and fuck me." **** Beth made pancakes for breakfast. As they sat at the breakfast bar tucking into the food, she asked Chris if he'd accompany her to the cemetery. "I'd like to speak to Lance," she explained.

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"Will you be okay? It's not too soon?" "I'm sure I'll cope. And if I don't, at least I'll have my husband there to look after me." Beth drove to the cemetery, stopping off to buy some flowers on the way. She needn't have bothered, because Lance's grave was covered with so many they could have set up their own florist right there. She moved some of the tributes and gave hers pride of place. "Lance, I'd like you to meet Chris. My husband." She paused, as if listening to her dead brother's answer. "Yes, my husband. And yes, the same Chris. The one from England. I know, it's crazy, but it feels so right." She lapsed into a silent conversation after that. After a few minutes, she indicated she was ready to go. "Let's go to the mall and see if we can hide behind that fountain." They stood side-by-side, staring at Lance's gravestone until then the silence was broken by a voice behind them. "You're back then," said the voice. "And you've brought him with you, I see." They turned to see Colonel Burnett walking towards them. "Daddy? What are you doing here?" "I've been to visit Lance every day since we laid him to rest. Not that you'd know that, having disappeared for the last week. Where did you go?" "You told Chris to leave River's Crossing, so that's what we did." "I told him to go, not you." "He came a long way to see me. It was only polite to spend some time with him." "There's no need for sarcasm, my girl. I told you not to see him—" "No, Daddy, you didn't. You never actually told me—" "Don't split hairs with me. You knew how I felt! You defied me!" "Don't shout at me! I'm a grown woman. I can make my own decisions." Chris stepped between Beth and the Colonel. "Is this the best place for this?" He nodded towards Lance's headstone.

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A look of shock filled Beth's face. "Oh my God! I'm sorry, Lance. I'm so sorry." The Colonel straightened his back and stood tall. "You're right. This isn't the place. Beth, you will follow me home. Now. I don't expect to have to ask twice." **** The Colonel led them into the lounge. "Sit. Both of you." Chris looked at Beth. She nodded and mouthed to him, "It's okay." There were two couches in the room—one either side of a glass coffee table. Chris and Beth sat on one couch. The Colonel sat opposite. "Well, young lady, explain yourself." "I don't have to explain myself. I was due time off. The past few weeks have been rough and I needed a vacation. So I went." "You ran off, in the middle of the night, a day after burying your brother. Where to? And for how long? Not a word. You just upped and went." "I told Mom I was going." The Colonel huffed. "But you didn't call when you got there, or let us know when you were going to be home. Your mother was worried sick." "No she wasn't or she would have called my cell." "Well, I was worried sick. Anything could have happened to you. Airplane crash. Car wreck. You could have been raped or murdered for all I knew." He looked at Chris. "I'd have called Mom if there had been problem. Or Chris would have called if anything happened to me. Wouldn't you, honey?" Chris nodded. "Of course." "But this isn't like you, Lizzie. This isn't the way the little girl I raised would behave." "How do you know, Daddy? You don't know me. Not really. You never have." "Don't be ridiculous, of course I know you. You're my little Lizzie." "That's my point, Daddy." She slapped her hands on her thighs. "I'm not Lizzie. You're the only person who's ever called me Lizzie. My clients call me Elizabeth, to everyone else I'm Beth."

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The Colonel stared at his daughter. "But I thought you liked Lizzie." "Exactly! You've never known what I liked and didn't. Could you name any of the posters on my wall when I was a teenager? Go on. Name one. With the amount of time you spent in my room lecturing me about the evils of boys, you must have noticed." "Erm…" He shook his head. "No? What about the music I listened to? You were always yelling at me to turn it down, but who was it?" The Colonel shrugged. "I don't know. All modern music sounds like noise to me." Beth huffed. "What about my senior prom date? I'll bet you couldn't name him. Could you?" "Wasn't it… Larry, or somebody." "See. See what I mean? It was Robert. Robert Evans. The best looking boy in school asked me to the prom. I was so excited. And you can't even remember his name. I'll bet you can't remember my dress, either, can you? You should because when you saw it you refused to pay for it. You said it was indecent. I used my savings to pay for it instead." She shook her head. "You were never interested in what I was doing—as long as I wasn't dating, you were happy. No, you were much more interested in Lance." Colonel Burnett's eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. "Lizzie… I…" "What's wrong, Colonel? Did you think I didn't notice? Did you think that I didn't know you were disappointed when I was born?" "I was never disappointed. How could I be disappointed? You were my beautiful little girl." "Oh, sure I was!" Beth was very animated now—her hand movements wild. Chris knew that she was saying things to her father that she'd kept bottled up for years. He wondered how far she would go. "I know you always wanted a boy. Someone who'd follow in your footsteps. But you got me instead. Poor Colonel Burnett got landed with the burden of a daughter." Colonel Burnett sat forward in his seat. "Sweetheart, you… you know that's not true. You're my special little girl."

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"Really? How many of my piano recitals did you attend? You wanted me to take up the piano in the first place, but I don't remember you ever coming to see to me play. And you never saw me sing in the choir either, did you?" "Honey—it's not like that. I wanted to be there. Really, I did. But—" "Something always came up. I know. I've heard all the excuses before. There was always something more important, wasn't there? But you never missed one of Lance's football games, did you? No, you had to support the big hero quarterback, didn't you? That was something you could tell your men about back at the base." "Lizzie, it's not like that. You know how this town feels about football—everything shuts down for the game on Friday night. And we started winning when Lance played. How would it look if the quarterback's father wasn't at the game?" "Don't give me that. You were always at the game because you always wanted to see him perform. Shame the same can't be said about me." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Do you have any idea how it made me feel? Knowing you loved Lance more than me." The Colonel had lost his air of militaristic grace. He looked shaken. His eyes were watery. "How…? You know that's not true." "Oh, don't get me wrong, I loved him, too. And you know why? Because he was more of a father to me than you ever were." "How…? How can you say that?" "Because he was always there for me when I needed him. You never were. Never. Who comforted me when I lost out on being prom queen to that bitch Missy Monroe after she said all those horrible things about me? Lance! Who drove me to my interview at Hallsbeck? Lance. I can't count the number of times I needed my daddy and you weren't there for me. Sometimes I just needed a hug, but you were never around. Or you didn't have the time. Or there was something more important to do. There was always something more important than me." Colonel Burnett sat motionless on the couch. He hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands.

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He stared at his reflection in his polished black shoes. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and then ran his fingers through his short gray hair. His eyes glistened with unformed tears. He was no longer the confident military man. He was a father. Just a father who loved his daughter. So why didn't he tell her? Chris knew that was all Beth wanted—to hear her father say that he loved her. In a small voice that Chris had not heard before, the Colonel said, "Lizzie, why haven't you said anything before now?" Beth's voice was quiet, too. Quiet and filled with emotion. "How could I when you were never around. And then I grew up. And all of a sudden you had a daughter, and no man would ever be good enough for her, would they?" Beth's voice rose again and a lifetime's anger and frustration poured out. She jumped out of the chair and paced the room. "Do you know how many boyfriends you ran off? Because, honestly, I lost count. All through high school and college, one encounter with you and they'd run for the hills. Or should that be run for their lives? And you're still doing it, aren't you? I can't believe you threatened to shoot Chris. Well, he won't be scared off that easily." "I… You know what I'm… I didn't mean… Lizzie, I—" "It's Beth, Colonel! My name is Beth! Stop calling me, Lizzie! I've had enough of you trying to control my life. You stopped me from going to an out-of-state college. Stopped me from taking a great job in the City after graduation. Well, I've had enough! I'm a grown woman and I can make my own decisions. And I have." She paused to catch her breath. Her chest heaved as she sucked in great a lungful of air. "What do you mean, Li—Beth?" She sat next to Chris and took his hand in hers. Chris knew what was coming, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for it. He wasn't sure if this was the best time, but he knew there was no point in trying to stop her. He held his breath. "Daddy, I'd like you to meet Chris. My husband." The Colonel looked as if someone had slapped him across the face. He looked as if he was trying to work out if he'd heard what he'd thought he'd heard. Then he erupted with anger. His face went red. "Your what?"

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"Husband." "When? Where?" "Two days ago. In Vegas," said Beth. "I'd have sent you an invitation, but there wasn't time. It was sort of a last minute decision. It was a lovely ceremony. I have photos if you'd like to see them." "But you barely know this man!" Beth's voice was calm and deliberate. "Daddy, I known him for two years. Yes, we hadn't met in person before last week, but Chris knows more about me than anybody else. Especially you. And I love him." The Colonel's voice wasn't the least bit calm. "This is madness. Madness! Well, I won't have it. You'll get an annulment. We'll go see a lawyer right away." "I am a lawyer, Daddy. Or had you forgotten? And we won't be able to get an annulment. We weren't drunk. Neither of us forced the other. And besides, we don't want one. Do we, Chris?" She looked at him and nudged his arm. Chris only hoped he could put together words that made the situation better rather than worse. "Colonel Burnett, you know what I think of Beth. I've already told you. And now you know I wasn't lying about her. I told you what a wonderful person she was. How special she was. But what I haven't told you is that I love her. I love just as much as I know you do. Sir, under different circumstances, I would have done things properly. I'd have asked you before I proposed to Beth. But she proposed to me, so I couldn't. The truth is, sir, she makes me happy. Happier than I ever thought I could be. And I know she feels the same. I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at me. When I'm with her, I feel like I never want to go to sleep because then I won't be with her. But when I do sleep, I dream about her. And when I wake up, I'm happy because she's still there. And I want to go on waking up next to her for the rest of life." The Colonel stared at Chris for a few long, silent moments. Then he looked at Beth. "I won't have it! I won't allow you to marry some random guy." "He's not some random guy. He's my husband. The man I love. The man who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with."

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"I'll speak to Judge Jackson. That's what I'll do." He was talking to himself. "Yes, Judge Jackson will annul the marriage for me." Beth laughed. "I'm sorry, Daddy, but there's no judge in the state that will annul our wedding on your say so. They'll want to speak to us, and we'll tell them exactly what we've told you. That we love each other and want to be together forever." The Colonel looked up, aware once more of his daughter's presence. "Jackson will. He owes me a favor." "Colonel," said Chris, "all I want is to make Beth happy. Surely, you can accept that. Surely that's what you want for your daughter." "You will not take my daughter from me!" The Colonel jabbed a finger in Chris's direction. "I won't let you." "I don't intend to take her from you. I've told you before, you don't need to protect her from me. In fact you don't need to protect her at all anymore—that's my job now." He took Beth's hand. "Colonel, we're going to live right here in River's Crossing. I'll have to give up a lot to do it, but Beth's worth it." "No, you won't." Beth turned Chris's face towards hers and looked into his eyes. "You shouldn't have to give up anything, Chris. You've got too good a job. You make too much money to give it up to live in a backwater town like this." Chris was dumbfounded. "Beth? Are you sure? You don't have to do this." "Yes. I do." She turned to her father. "Daddy, I'm going to live in London. It's clear you're never going to give us any peace if we stay here, so we're leaving. Tomorrow." She stood. "Come on, Chris. I have to pack." **** "Are you certain this is a good idea?" Chris asked as Beth packed her life into two black cases. "Anyone would think you didn't want me to come with you." She shot him a look that told him not to question her anymore. He ignored it. "But what about your job? And the house?" "Don't worry. Mom will check on the house for me and as for the job—I've got over half a million dollars in the bank. It should see me through or a while. And I'm sure I'll find a job in

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London. I'll come back in a couple of weeks, when things have calmed down, and sort things out properly. But I have to leave now. I have to make my point." She hauled the cases off the bed. "Now, take these downstairs and put them with yours." She lay on the bed. "Then come back up here and make love to me. I'll be waiting." She parted her legs and rubbed her pussy through her panties. "Hurry up." **** "Well?" Ellen asked. "I got the machine. She hasn't changed the message since she went off on that vacation." "Did you try her cell phone?" The Colonel looked at the floor. "I… I don't have her number." Ellen rolled her eyes. "You' re unbelievable." She looked at her watch. "I bet they've already left for the airport." She stared at her husband. "This is your fault. You know that, don't you?" The Colonel nodded. His eyes were downcast and he spoke quietly. "I know." "You and your goddamn pride. You're a stubborn old mule, Robert Burnett. But you're going to fix this." She stood up and walked to the door. "Come on. Get your coat." "Where are we going?" "The airport. And when we get there you are going to apologize to your daughter. And then you are going to get on your knees and beg her to stay. This may be the last chance you have to tell her how you feel. To tell her you love her." "I've tried. Honestly, I have. But every time I try it goes wrong. I make it worse. What if I make it worse again?" "Bobby, how the hell can it get any worse? Tell me that? She's leaving the country! Do you understand? If she gets on that airplane before you've spoken to her, before you've put things right, then we'll have lost her forever. And if that happens, I'll never forgive you, Bobby Burnett. I'll never forgive you." The Colonel picked up his military jacket from the coat stand by the door. "Not that one," said Ellen "What?"

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"Not that jacket. Beth doesn't want Colonel Robert Burnett turning up at the airport. It's Colonel Burnett that's caused this mess in the first place." "I don't understand." "And there's the problem." She shook her head. "The Colonel can't fix this, Bobby. Only Bobby can fix this. Only the man I fell in love with can fix this. Only Beth's father can fix this. She needs now what she's needed these past few weeks— what she's always needed." "And what's that?" "Your approval. And your love. So leave the army at home. Just this once. Leave the army at home and tell your daughter you love her." "But we don't know which airport they're flying from." "Not a problem." Ellen pulled her cell phone from her purse and flipped it open. "I'll ask her." **** Chris and Beth arrived at JFK airport four full hours before his flight was due to board. The extra security on flights between America and Europe demanded it. First order of business was a ticket on the same flight for Beth. They inquired at the AngloAtlantic sales desk. "I'm sorry, sir. That flight is fully booked." "But it's vital that we're on the same flight," Chris stressed. "Vital. Do you understand?" The sales girl, dressed in a smart blue uniform, tapped on her computer. "I'm sorry, sir. It's not even possible for me to bump you both to First Class. There's a large conference in Docklands this weekend. All the airlines are booked up." "Could I exchange my ticket for another flight? One we could both get on?" "One second. There's space available on an earlier flight, but it arrives in London in the early hours. And I'm afraid you would have to pay a surcharge on your ticket." "That's not a problem. When's the flight?" "Boarding is due to start in an hour. I can check you in now and give you priority through security." After paying for the tickets and checking in, they had just enough time for a cup of coffee before their flight was called.

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There was a long queue at the security gate. They held hands and stepped forwards slowly as the security guards did their job. "You look nervous," said Chris. "I suppose I am. This is a big thing for me. I've never crossed the Atlantic before. And when we get there, I'm going to meet your friends and your family. What if they don't like me? What if they convince you that you've made a terrible mistake?" "They're all going to love you. Maybe not as much as I do, but that's because they don't know you like I do. I'll have to watch my cousin Vinny, though." "Why?" "He has a thing for attractive blondes. It's sort of an addiction. And you're just his type." Beth cocked an eyebrow. "Really? What's he look like?" "He's an ugly bastard. A giant hairy ape of a man," Chris said with a smile. "You've got nothing to worry about, then. What's your house like? Is it big enough for the both of us? Or should we look for somewhere new?" Chris shrugged. "It'll do. For now. Let's just get there and get settled in shall we." "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" The voice was coming from behind them. They looked around. Beth's parents were striding towards them. "Oh, thank God we've caught you," the Colonel said. "I was worried you'd already cleared security." "Daddy, what are you doing here?" "I can't let you go, Lizzie." She glared at him with a look that would melt solid steel. "Sorry, I mean, Beth." "You can't stop me," Beth replied. Her jaw was set. She looked ready for another argument. "Damn it, Bobby," said Ellen. "I warned you. Put your stupid pride away and do what you came here to do. Say what you came here to say." The Colonel looked at his wife. He resembled a schoolboy being told off. "Yes. Sorry, dear." "It's your pride that got us into this. Now get on with it." The Colonel turned to Beth and said, "Liz… Beth. Look, I've tried to say this so many times over the past few weeks, but

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every time I… I mess it up. You know me. I've never had a way with words—not like you." He glanced at the floor and Chris heard him whisper under his breath. Beth inhaled and waited. "I'm sorry, Beth. For everything. I've been… I've been… Damn, how did your mother put it? I've been a stubborn old mule. You're my special little girl. My beautiful little girl." He lifted his hand to her face. "You look just like your grandmother, you know. I don't think I've ever told you that before, but you do. She was a prom queen, just like you should have been. Every time I look at you I see her and it gives me a warm glow inside. You're the spitting image of her. Except your eyes. You have your mother's eyes. Beth, I couldn't stand it if you left. Stay. Please. I've already lost my boy, I can't lose you in the same month." Beth exhaled. She'd been holding her breath throughout her father's speech. She looked at him with a skeptical eye. "It's just words, Daddy. For all I know you've been rehearsing them all the way here." She shook her head. "What does it change?" "Beth," said Ellen. "Do you have any idea how difficult it has been for your father to say this?" "Yes. But…" "Do you want me to beg, Beth? Because I will. If that's what it takes." He took her hand and knelt on the floor. "Beth, stay. Please. I need you here. My life will be meaningless if you leave." "Daddy, get up, you're making a fool of yourself." "Yes, I am. But I don't care. Shouldn't a man be able to make a fool of himself over his daughter?" "People are looking." "Let them look. I want everyone to know this, Beth. You are my daughter and I'm so very proud of you and everything you've achieved. I love you, Beth. And I don't want you to go and live in England." Chris knew from all the time spent chatting online, that this was what Beth had been waiting years to hear. But the explosion was more than even he had expected. Beth leapt forward and The Colonel was just able to get to his feet before she flung her arms around him. "Oh, Daddy." She hugged him tight. "I love you, too. And you're not losing me. Not really." She stepped away and held his hands.

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Her father looked into her eyes and said, "You're flying to the other side of the world. What would you call that, if I'm not losing you?" "It's a small world, Daddy. An ocean between us doesn't mean you've lost me. I found Chris when there was an ocean between us." "Please, Beth. For me. Stay. I need you." "I've stayed in River's Crossing my whole life. And I did that for you. Now I have to leave for me. I need to see more of the world. I need to experience life in the big city." "You could do that here. In New York." She touched his face and shook her head. "No. I have to do this." Colonel Burnett's lower lip trembled. He had tears in his eyes. "Beth, please…" "Don't, Daddy. Don't beg." She smiled. "It doesn't suit you. We'll be back. I promise you, we will be back. I can't think of a better place to raise your grandkids than River's Crossing. After all, they'll need their grandfather to dote on them." Ellen smiled. "Grandkids? Did you hear that, Bobby? Grandkids!" "Yes. I heard. Do you mean it? Are you really pregnant?" Beth laughed and shook her head. "No. But we're working on it. After all, I'm not getting any younger." The Colonel smiled—that was the same phrase he'd said to her the weekend before the funeral. Chris had kept their place in line while Beth spoke to her father. He was almost at the security gate. "Beth. We have to go." She hugged her mother. "Take care of him, Mom." Ellen smiled. "I always have, Beth. I always have. And you take care of him." She nodded to Chris. "That's your job now. If he means as much to you as I think he does." Beth moved to her father once more and hugged him again. "It's not goodbye forever, Daddy." She pulled away from him. "I'll be back in a few weeks, and I'll bring my PC over to your place. I'll set you up with my webcam." "Beth," Chris called. "We're next." "Okay. I'm coming." She faced her parents. "Bye."

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She joined Chris for the security check. And then they went in search of their departure gate and their new life together.

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About the Author Marc Nobbs started writing erotica in the late Nineties. He freely admits that what he produced back then was complete and utter tosh. But at least it was hot, sexy tosh. In 2004 he found Desdmona's Fishtank (where for some obscure reason they still call him Knobbie). With the help of the wonderful authors he met there, his writing improved by leaps and bounds. He now has a much better idea what commas are for, understands plot structure and character development and has a panic attack every time he writes a passive sentence. When he's not writing erotica, reading erotica, or working, Marc enjoys DIY and gardening (at least, that's what his wife tells him), and shouting at rubbish footballers who aren't worth the money they're paid. He also enjoys beating his father-in-law at chess. Visit him online at www.MarcNobbs.com.

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