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  He'd wanted something different tonight, needed an escape from the norm. What possessed him to come here, he wasn't exactly sure. Perhaps it was the privacy, the seclusion while remaining surrounded by people, the ear-splitting sound and the thrill of watching a story unfold on the big screen. Maybe it was the popcorn, he considered as he stepped inside, the rich, warm, buttery smell present only in movie theaters meeting him to tempt his stomach. Or maybe it was the desire to be closer to Rhonda even if only in his imagination.

  Yeah, there he went being pathetic again, so much for escaping the norm. Ever since he'd talked with her, seen her, he'd been dying to see her again. Christ, he'd thought he'd been obsessing over her before! She'd taken Lucas to see Star Wars. They had probably come to this very theater. It was the only one in town unless she'd crossed over the bridge to Billings, but he doubted she had.

  Determined to have that escape after all, to push everything including Rhonda from his mind for at least the span of the movie, he made his way through the growing crowd in the theater lobby to the concession stand. His was studying the various sizes of popcorn boxes and soda cups when he heard it. A soft, voice with just enough baby left in the tone to add that sweet lilt that made women coo. It made Michael's heart slam against his breastbone even as he struggled not to let the surprise show on his face.

  He turned slowly, almost convinced the obsessive disorder he'd been battling for the past six months had finally driven him insane. But his gaze collided first with a set of large, round blue eyes and then dropped to find another set, equally blue and large, looking up at him.

  "Wow!" He gave a short, surprised laugh. "Hey there, buddy. It's been awhile. How have you been?"

  "Awesome! We're getting popcorn and then going to see Star Wars," Lucas Ramsey told him with so much exuberance, Michael heard himself laughing again.

  "Again?" Michael's gaze flicked up to Rhonda's.

  She grinned and shrugged. "His choice."

  "You should know it by heart by now." There was suspicion in the blue depths of her eyes, suspicion and a guarded longing he immediately recognized and understood.

  "Not yet," Lucas said. "This will only be our fourth time to see it."

  "Fourth time, huh?" Michael tore his attention from Rhonda and looked down at her son. The boy was exactly as Michael had remembered him. Barely tall enough to reach Michael's waist with a head of unruly blondish-brown hair, eyes that mirrored his mothers, and a face of adorable angles and features that would no doubt be handsome when he grew older. "I haven't seen it yet."

  "But that's why you're here, isn't it?"

  "It is." He lifted his eyes, met Rhonda's still suspicious gaze. "I didn’t know I’d run into you here. I didn't think, well, I just didn't think."

  "You can sit with us. Can't he, Mom?" Lucas didn't wait for Rhonda to respond. "We're getting some popcorn and some gummy worms. They're my favorite! I'll share 'em with you and I'll sit by you in case you have any questions about the movie, too."

  "I, um," Michael hesitated, not wanting to impose and wanting with every fiber of his being to spend the span of a two hour movie sitting between this boy and his mother. He could be happy with that. He would be happy with that, for tonight.

  "Can I help you?" the concession attendant asked.

  Michael didn't answer. He didn't look away from Rhonda. She answered the attendant instead. Lucas moved to the counter as the attendant filled the order, and only then did Rhonda speak. She moved closer to him. Close enough that he could smell her over the almost overwhelming scent of popcorn. She smelled of something sensual and tantalizing, no floral mists or fruity hints this time. It was unique and he knew the smell would haunt his every wet dream for more nights than he cared to think about.

  "Why don't you join us? Lucas would enjoy it, and well," she sighed, "I guess I would, too."

  Michael studied her and didn't miss the way she averted her gaze when she said that. "Are you sure?"

  She gave a nervous laugh. "Absolutely not." She took an audible breath and pushed it out hard. "Look, Michael, this attraction thing between us is, well…"

  "Nice?" he suggested and felt his lips twitch when hers curved into a small smile.

  "I thought men hated that word."

  "We do." God, he loved this woman's directness.

  "I was going to say overwhelming and really confusing to me right now."

  His smile faded and he nodded. "I know. I didn't expect to see you here."

  "It's not your fault, and Lucas would really like to hang out with you tonight. He talks about you a lot."

  "He does, huh?" It was stupid how decidedly fuzzy and warm that news made his insides.

  "I think you made quite an impression. On both of us," she murmured, her gaze dropping again.

  "And yet you've kept your distance," Michael heard himself say before he could stop it. Damn it. "I'm sorry. Ignore that. You've been through a lot since we met. You're still going through changes. I understand that. That day at the docks, I offered friendship and research material, Rhonda. I can be satisfied with that."

  "Can you? That's about all I can offer in return right now." She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "In truth, I'm not even sure I can offer that. The life I'm looking for doesn't include a man, Michael."

  "Not even a male friend because, yeah, I can be satisfied with that." And he was lying. Or was he? He could be this woman's friend. He wanted to be her friend. But could he truly be satisfied if she never gave him anything more? He gazed into her eyes, watched the play of emotions ranging everywhere between uncertainty and fear to desire and happiness swirling in their depths, and knew he would do just about anything simply to have the opportunity to enjoy this woman's company. And, as for everything else he wished from her, well, he'd been living that out in fantasy after fantasy for almost six months. Why stop now?

  "Think of me as another Adrien. I hear you've become pretty close friends with him."

  "He's gay. You aren't." She angled her head and lifted one perfectly plucked brow. "You pointed that out yourself the day at the docks."

  He had. He'd overheard her husband asking her who the gay fucker was talking to Lucas. Michael had been the ‘gay fucker’ in question. "Which, what, makes him safe?"

  "Precisely." She shook her head. "Confusions R Us, I know. I just…"

  "You know what I want right now?" Michael cut her off. "I want popcorn and a movie. Since I just happened to run into you and Lucas and we're all intending to see the same movie, I would very much enjoy the company."

  She looked back at him, her gaze searching his for several long heartbeats until she finally nodded. "Then we should probably order a larger bucket of popcorn."

  "And another box of gummy worms." Michael reached for his wallet in his back pocket.

  Rhonda wrinkled her nose. "You can't actually like those things."

  "Of course I do. They're fantastic!"

  Michael ordered another small bucket of popcorn and an extra box of worms, paid for everything, then handed one of the boxes of candy to Lucas. He opened his own box and popped one in his mouth. "Your mother thinks these are gross."

  "She's a girl." Lucas rolled his eyes. "What do they know?"

  "You're right." Michael chuckled. "That’s just more for us."

  "You bet!"

  "They're ganging up on me already. I'm in trouble tonight," Rhonda mumbled, shook her head, and laughed.

  Michael shot her a glance as they started to walk to the darkened hallway that led to the theaters. On second thought, forget adding to his fantasies. He had enough of them going about this woman already to write his own freaking series! He was going to take those fantasies, combine them with her Confusions R Us and turn them into a reality based Toys R Us even if it took him years to make her cave.

  * * * *

  Seeing Rayne bloody and broken was an image Cory would never forget. It filled the darkness when he closed his eyes and flashed into the light when his eyes were open.
And when he looked at her, the sight of all those bruises and scrapes tore at his very soul.

  She'd changed, too. Those bruises hadn't merely discolored her flesh. They had marred the light within her. She shot him a glance as he guided her to his apartment, one hand clasped gently on her elbow. It was the longing look she cast at the closed door to Max's apartment that gave him pause.

  "We thought you would rather come to our place. We, um, figured the memories over there might be a bit too much your first day back."

  "They aren't much different from here." She spoke quietly, with such sadness in her tone that Cory wanted to cry. Where was the vivacious Rayne he'd come to love? Had that bastard broken her spirit as well as her nose?

  Ford stepped around them, opened the door to their apartment, and moved aside. He had Sunshine in his arms and he put the dog down before turning to face them.

  Rayne hesitated in the hallway, her gaze transfixed on images only she could see. "I can still picture him standing there. And the way he hit David, God, I thought he was dead."

  "Only knocked out," Ford reminded her softly. "He's okay. Remember that. He's got a nasty bruise on his head that'll hurt for awhile."

  "I know what that feels like." She chuckled, but the sound held little humor as she tenderly touched her cheek. Much of the swelling had gone down in the forty-eight hours she'd spent in the hospital, but the discoloration remained.

  Cory forced a smile. "Yeah, you do. But just like him, you're going to be okay, you know?" He said it as much to remind himself of that fact as to comfort her. She was going to be okay. A little battered, a lot bruised with a broken nose and a few bruised ribs, all of which would heal in time.

  She nodded and, without looking at him or Ford, walked into the apartment.

  Cory and Ford exchanged glances and followed her, Ford closing the door quietly behind him.

  "Can I get you something? Do you want a drink, food, rest?" God, he hated this, feeling helpless, uncertain, out of place. He was a freaking EMT, for Pete's sake. He knew better than most how she likely felt and he understood, could even sympathize. What he wasn't was a psychiatrist, but maybe he and Ford should consider calling one for her.

  "Do you want to talk?" Ford asked.

  Cory looked at him. He stood just inside the apartment, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, his expression concerned and grim. Apparently, they managed to be on the same page in the How to Help Rayne handbook they both struggled to compile.

  Rayne turned, her gaze shifting from Ford to Cory and back to Ford. She didn't speak. She just looked at them.

  "You haven't talked about it at all. I thought," Ford shrugged, "well, maybe talking about it would help."

  "Funny, I thought that, too. Except, talking doesn't help much when you only divulge part of the information."

  Ford sighed. "You're mad at me. You told me that. You have every right to be. It's my fault what happened to you. Baby, don't you realize if I could go back, I would have never let you out of my sight for even a second?" His voice cracked. He paused and swallowed visibly. "I was stupid to take the threat lightly. I'm a better detective than that."

  "Neither one of us realized how much danger you were in," Cory added. He couldn't let Ford take all the blame.

  Rayne put a hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples with her fingertips.

  "Do you have a headache?" Cory asked, his EMT training kicking in above his need to argue and soothe.

  "Head, nose, ribs." She laughed dryly and shook her head. "Look, I don't blame you, either of you," she pinned both of them with a steady glare through eyes that were dark, red rimmed, and lined with bags, "for what happened here. You asked me to promise not to go anywhere alone, Ford. You were trying to look out for me. I knew that."

  "You weren't alone. Even if you had made that promise, it wouldn't have made a difference. I should have—"

  "What, Ford? You should’ve seen in your crystal ball that Roumduol would somehow find out I took those pictures? That he’d decide to kill Deshan Minh and come after me instead of running when he realized you and the DEA were on to him?"

  "Yes!" Ford shouted, his voice cracking now with anger as much as hurt. "Damn it, I should have known all of that. It's fucking Detective for Dummies 101, Rayne."

  Cory was watching her and he could’ve sworn he saw her fighting a smile at that.

  "Maybe it is, okay, but you warned me to watch my back," she told him far more calmly than he'd just spoken to her. "You did all you could. Everyone did, under the circumstances." She shot a glance at Cory as she said that last part, obviously making sure he knew she included him in the 'everyone' reference, before returning her attention to Ford. "You were looking for a break in the case you were compiling against Phay, looking for a way to stop the drugs he and his men have brought into our city before they hit the streets. You found that break, a connection, in Minh, in the photograph I took."

  "Like it did any good," Ford scoffed, clearly disgusted. "Minh is dead, the drugs are still on our streets, and Roumduol is nowhere to be found."

  "But you prevented another drop-off from being made," Rayne pointed out. "Didn't I hear you and Michael Cosmos talking about that yesterday morning outside my hospital room? Because the picture made it possible for the SSPD and DEA to identify Roumduol, he's gone back to Cambodia, back to Phay with his tail between his legs."

  It was Ford's turn to almost smile. "That's a pretty image."

  "Yeah, it is," Cory agreed.

  "You have no idea." Rayne moved to the sofa and perched gingerly on the arm.

  "Okay, you aren't mad at me for what happened to you," Ford said slowly, watching her. "Then, maybe I don't want to know this, but why are you angry with me?"

  * * * *

  Here it came. The moment Rayne had been both dreading and waiting for since her conversation with David outside the remains of the burnt house before all the shit had hit the proverbial fan. Except, now that the moment was here, she would have almost preferred going back to the apartment across the hall where she'd faced down Roumduol. She looked from Ford to Cory and back again. The pain in her nose and ribs was nothing compared to that which sliced at her heart at the realization that what she was about to say would cause her to lose them. Only, how could she lose something she never truly had?

  "You know how I said talking doesn't help much when you only divulge part of the information? Well, I wasn't referring to anything about the shit with Roumduol or Minh or Phay. I was talking about Paula."

  All color drained from Ford's face as the woman's name landed like a ten-ton weight in the room. An audible, indrawn breath drew Rayne's attention away from Ford long enough to see Cory's face had turned the same ashen color.

  "What about her?" Cory's whispered question squeezed the cut in Rayne's already bleeding heart. He'd loved Paula. They both had. If she'd harbored any doubts, the proof of just how much they’d cared for this other woman was evident in their expressions.

  "Why didn't you tell me about her?" She focused on Ford as she asked, knowing either one of them could’ve told her at any time. Cory wasn’t absolved from her anger at being deceived. It was just that Ford had been the one to break down, to tell her about Sicily and Stewie, but he hadn't mentioned Paula at all.

  Ford took a long stride toward her, stopped, shook his head, and sighed. "I started to. That day when we were talking about the accident, I started to tell you."

  "Instead you conveniently, what, edited her out of the story? Why? Did you not want me to know about her? Did you not want me to know the two of you had a ménage with a woman who was killed along with your sister? Or did you not want me to realize I'm nothing more to either of you than a replacement for her."

  Ford staggered back as if she'd slapped him with her words.

  Cory gasped and started to move toward her, but he stopped, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Ford. "You can't believe that. Tell me you don't truly believe that."

  Rayne didn't know what to b
elieve. The entire situation was otherworldly to her. She'd tried to ignore these feelings of disbelief and surprise that both of these incredible men wanted her bad enough to share her. She tried to get over her fears that what she felt for them was only lust and not love, that she could be, again, confusing her emotions and would end up with her heart in tatters. She'd succeeded in convincing herself of the last part, only to end up with her heart in tatters anyway as she discovered they were the ones confusing their emotions, not her. They felt love. She didn't doubt that. But the love they felt was for another woman, a dead woman, a woman named Paula, not Rayne.

  "I'm not her." She let her gaze drop to the carpet beneath her feet, unable to look at either of them now. "I'll never be her. If you were trying to replace her with me, you picked the wrong woman."

  "We weren't trying to do anything of the sort." Ford knelt in front of her. He hooked a finger under her chin and tugged her face up to meet his gaze. His whisky eyes were swimming in tears. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her, that I left her out of the story. She isn’t easy to talk about. What happened to her, the way she died, talking about Sicily and Stewie is hard enough. Sicily was my sister and, yes, Paula was my lover." He cast a cursory glance over his shoulder at Cory who had moved to perch on the edge of the coffee table. "Our lover. She was in the car with Sicily that day. They were best friends. That's how we met. We were all inseparable―Sicily, Paula, Stewie, Cory and me. Stewie and Sicily were half in love, but neither of them had reached a point yet where they wanted to admit it. Cory and I both loved Paula."

  "It worked for us," Cory interjected, his tone soft and carefully conversational. "Ford and I have been close since grade school, we both had crushes on Paula that morphed into more, neither of us wanted to back away, and we were willing to share. It felt right for each of us."

  "Just like it feels right to us to share you now," Ford told her, his thumb lightly caressing her jaw. "We know you aren't Paula. Honestly, you and she are completely different. It would be impossible to confuse the two of you. The only thing you truly have in common is the power to bring both of us to our knees from wanting you badly."