Danger Signals

that, either, until much later.

Now, love? Will you take this ride with me? Don't be afraid… I'm right here, holding you… I'll keep you safe. Are you ready to let go now?

He heard her answer in her gasping cry. 'Yes…please, yes!' Felt it in the quakings and clenchings that began deep inside her and built to a cataclysm that claimed every part of her body. But by then he was involved with cataclysms of his own, and no longer sure he was as mighty and all-powerful as he'd thought he was. He was terribly grateful for her arms around him, and her fingers digging into his muscles and her strong, slender body in his arms for him to hold on to while his own went pretty much out of his control.

It was afterward, utterly drained and weak as a newborn calf, that Wade had his own moment of panic. It came when he realized he'd completely forgotten to block.

They never did make it to Tierney's bedroom-not that night. For both of them, for nerves so overtaxed and muscles so spent, the journey of a few yards seemed like a thousand miles.

By slow degrees they managed to move themselves into a reasonably comfortable tangle on the couch, with various unidentified articles of clothing making do for towels and a soft afghan throw-and each other-as covers.

In the last moments of consciousness, Wade mumbled an inquiry-a single word.

'Jeannette?'

Tierney murmured. 'She'll sleep late…' And tumbled into oblivion.

Although there hadn't been much left of the night when they'd gone to sleep. Tierney woke at her usual time- partly due to predictable bodily needs and discomforts, she was sure. Leaving Wade snoring peacefully on the couch, she crept off to check on Jeannette-still sound asleep-and then to the bathroom, where she gave the bathtub a longing glance before turning on the shower instead. As nice as it would have been to soak away some of those discomforts she'd awakened with, she didn't trust her hot water supply to last through both a full tub and the shower Wade would surely be wanting when he woke up. And Jeannette was going to need bathing after her evening's adventures, too.

Only when she was standing in the shower with her eyes closed, lovely hot water beating down on her scalp and sluicing over the tender places elsewhere on her body, did she finally let herself think.

Wade.

She opened the door carefully, just a crack at first, like someone unlocking a forbidden vault, nervous about what she would find inside.

He forgot to block.

But she wouldn't be reading too much into the emotions he'd allowed past his barricades last night…earlier this morning. Tierney was a realist; being privy to people's most private and innermost feelings made it pretty much impossible for her not to be.

Not that she thought Wade's emotions weren't real. The beauty of emotions was that they couldn't lie. However, they could be, and often were, fleeting. In the throes of some pretty great sex-and it had been truly awesome; she couldn't repress a smile and some shivers just thinking about it-a man might easily believe himself to be in love with the person who'd provided him with it. Anyone could-something she'd do well to remember-but mostly men. Because, as she was in a unique position to know, men tended to fall in love with the woman they were having great sex with, while women had great sex with the man they were in love with.

So how does that explain what happened to me last night?

It was a question that was obviously going to require a lot more thought, but she'd used more than her share of the hot water already. And the rhythmic thumping she could hear even with the water running meant Gran was awake, and that Wade, if he wasn't already, probably would be very soon.

Wade.

Her insides clenched and her breathing faltered as memories washed over her. She felt as if she'd been caught up in a flood of melted…oh, something warm and sweet and gooey…and she didn't need to be thinking such thoughts, not with Wade out there in the living room and Jeannette pounding on the door of her room demanding to be let out.

She braced herself and turned the shower to cold, and made herself stand under the spray, gasping, until she was covered from head to toe in goose bumps. She thought of it as penance.

Wade had been awake since shortly before Tierney disentangled herself from him and crept away to the bathroom. Though desperately in need of that convenience himself, he hadn't quite felt up to the gymnastics involved in levering himself out of the couch cushions and climbing over a sweetly slumbering woman in order to make use of it. Now he waited until he heard the shower running, then got up. sorted out his pants and pulled them on. then padded barefoot and shirtless to the kitchen to look for coffee.

When Jeannette started pounding on her bedroom door, he considered whether he should go and let her out. Problem was. he doubted she'd remember who he was, and he thought it might be upsetting to the lady to have her door opened by a large bare-chested male stranger.

Or, considering this particular lady, it might not. Either way, he decided to let Tierney handle it.

Once the coffeemaker had burped out enough to fill a cup. he poured one for himself and sat down at the table to think about how this was going to go and what he should do about it. However, it didn't take him long to realize there wasn't much he could conclude about the situation without the other person involved being present and, hopefully, contributing her two cents' worth.

Just seeing her, watching her eyes when she walked into her kitchen and found him sitting at her table drinking her coffee on this 'morning after'-that was going to tell him a lot, right there.

His nerves kicked involuntarily when he heard a door open somewhere down the hallway, and then another. He sat calmly, sipping hot coffee and telling himself his heart wasn't beating faster, and listened to the sound of voices- hers, soft and sweet and soothing, and Jeannette's, high and querulous and complaining-and footsteps going here and there, drawers opening and closing. Footsteps again, dying as they crossed the living room rug.

He told himself he wasn't even a wee bit disappointed when it was Jeannette, not Tierney, who wandered into the kitchen, looking freshly scrubbed and remarkably serene after her ordeal. Her hair was brushed and hanging loose on her shoulders like a young girl's, and she wore a flowing caftan in peacock colors that almost matched her eyes.

It must be one of the perks of Alzheimer's, Wade thought, that she'd have no recollection of being lost and scared and all alone in a big city at night.

She hesitated only a moment when she saw him sitting there, then gave him a scrutinizing stare as she came closer. She offered him one white-dove hand and said briskly. ''Well, as you've probably deduced, I am Isabella's mother.' The hand nested in his for only a moment, then flitted off in a blithe little wave. 'Oh, don't look so alarmed, dear boy, I'm not going to bring out the shotgun. Izzy's a grown woman, you know. She's free to sleep with whomever she pleases.'

Wade hastily gulped back whatever it was he'd planned to say as Jeannette shuffled off in the direction of the refrigerator. Halfway there, though, she halted, and a panicky frown pleated her forehead. 'I made some coffee,' he said gently. 'Would you care for some?'

She hesitated for a moment, then turned back to him. eyebrows arched and lips curved in a smile of aching sweetness. Now when she spoke it was in the thick Irish brogue.

'Fer shame. Tommy-me-darlin'. Havin' your little joke. I suppose, since ye know good-n'well how I love me tea in the mornin'…' And she bent down and planted a kiss on the top of Wade's head.

He was saved from having to think how to reply to that by a blessed sound.

'Now, Gran, you know that's not Tommy. Tommy died, remember? A long time ago.' Tierney put an arm around her grandmother's waist and gently but firmly guided her to a chair.

Jeannette peered up at her in bewilderment as she sank slowiy into the chair, that heart-tugging smile only a memory. 'Izzy?'

'No, darling, it's Tee. And this nice man is Wade Callahan-you met him, remember?' She threw Wade a look and winked, and his breathing stumbled.

She was wearing jeans and a yellow T-shirt with a chain of daisies embroidered along the scooped neckline. Her cheeks were flushed and her damp hair had been caught up in a ponytail, the shorter curls already escaping.