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man."

Zanita turned a brighter shade of red. The little pirate took some getting used

to. "Do—do you do this often, Blooey?"

"Often enough; every Sunday, Lady Masterson." He noted her crestfallen

expression. "But it's always been just me, the Captain, and that scalawag

Hambone," he hastened to add. "It be more special with a lady such as yerself

present."

"Oh. I thought…" Blooey looked at her knowingly, and for an instant Zanita saw

the sharp intelligence behind his expression.

"The Captain's somewhat fierce about his privacy."

"Thank you, Blooey." Blooey nodded before going to pour her some coffee.

Tyber entered the kitchen, hair still slightly damp from his shower. He was

carrying a red-plaid flannel bathrobe, which he held open for her.

"I thought you might be cold with those clothes. The weather's changed." She

slipped her arms through the sleeves.

Tyber turned her around, perfunctorily fastening the tie belt with a firm tug.

He kissed her nose, saying, "Sorry, baby, no more pool parties for us until the

spring."

As if he had really had a pool party! The robe was ridiculously big on her. She

felt like a child playing dress-up. Blooey handed her a cup of coffee just as

she took a chair. Caffeine was needed quickly if she was going to deal

effectively with Dr. Evans.

"Tyber, I want to thank you for a lovely…" her voice faltered slightly, "Time. I

really have to be going."

He looked over the mound of scrambled eggs he was ladling onto her plate, a hurt

expression crossing his face. "You're not going to stay for breakfast?"

"Well, I…"

"Blooey will be terribly disappointed, especially after he went to all this

trouble. Won't you, Blooey?" He speared Blooey with a pointed look.

Blooey coughed. "Aye! It wouldn't be right of yer ladyship, would it?"

Zanita looked from one to the other of them, realizing she was neatly trapped.

She slumped in the seat.

"We even have the Sunday paper for you." Tyber's eyes gleamed in triumph while

he handed her the front section of the newspaper.

Hambone tested the air with an upturned nose, and sensing the serving of food,

slowly lumbered to his feet to pad over to the table. He stopped at Tyber's

chair, staring demandingly up at him.

Tyber unconsciously filled a small saucer with some eggs and bacon and placed it

on the floor in front of the scruffy tabby.

Zanita gaped at him. Tyber caught her staring at him after the third forkful of

eggs. "What?"

"You forgot to give the cat some coffee."

"Huh? Oh, he likes his after he eats." He went back to his plate as if the earth

was once again back on its axis, merrily spinning about the sun.

She was in a nut house.

Zanita wisely turned her attention to her newspaper.

They ate in companionable silence except for the occasional curses from the

backyard where Blooey was trying to save his butternut squash from the predicted

freeze that evening. Suddenly, Zanita sat straight up in her chair.

"Tyber, it says here that noted psychic Xavier LaLeche is giving a seminar and a

demonstration on healing this evening!"

Tyber looked up from his Analog magazine with glazed eyes, taking a moment to

readjust to this atmosphere. "Where?"

"At the Kingston function hall in Blaketon."

He rubbed his chin. "Hmm, two hours to get there and two hours back. What time?"

"Eight o'clock; think we can do it?"

"Yeah. It'll be a late night, though. Do you have to get up early in the

morning?"

"Fairly, why?"

"If you promise you won't wake me, I'll drive."

Zanita flushed. "Tyber, we need to get something straight. I'm not going to

spend another night here."

"Of course not."

Zanita nodded in agreement, pleased that he understood.

"I want you to move in."

Her cup clattered in the saucer. "What!"

Tyber left his seat, coming around the table to kneel in front of her on one

knee. He took her chilled hands in his. "Don't get nervous, Curls. I know you've

given up men and I respect that. It's just that I think it will be a lot easier

to investigate this story of yours if we have ready access to each other. You

know, sometimes the best ideas happen in the middle of the night." He smiled

beseechingly at her.

"What—you never heard of a telephone?"

His thumb traced the top of her hand. "It's not the same. You can't brainstorm

over the phone effectively. Didn't you ever hear of think tanks?"

She furrowed her eyes. "Yes, but do you really think it would help you?"

He trapped her hands inside his own. "Immeasurably."

"You mean, temporarily, just while we're working together on the story?"

"Think of all the time we'd save."

She scratched her neck. "I don't know…"

He leaned forward to give her succulent little kisses between his words.

"Don't—you—think—it's—a—good— idea, baby?"

"But Tyber, I told you I don't want to get involved!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Involved? Who said anything about it getting involved?"

"No! I mean us! Us involved…"

"Mmm, we are, aren't we?" His tongue swirled inside her mouth in a devastating

foray.

Blooey started to enter the kitchen carrying a basket of squash. Still kissing

Zanita, Tyber motioned to Blooey behind his back. Without breaking his stride,

the little pirate turned and left the room.

Tyber poured on the heat. "Yes?" he whispered into her mouth.

The man could kiss. Zanita tried to think. It wasn't easy under the

circumstances. She needed his help, that she knew. With Tyber's background, his

input would be invaluable in exposing the fraud. What's more, she would have

more time to work on him for an interview, although she didn't hold out much

hope for that. But move in with him?

Temporarily.

It wouldn't be as if she had to deal with a real relationship or anything.

It was a business arrangement. Sort of.

It would make it easier to work together; she could see that. And if they

indulged in a side… thing, well… they were adults. Truth was, now that Tyber had

given her a taste of the heretofore elusive fruit, she wouldn't mind taking a

few more bites, so to speak. As long as he understood the ground rules.

She clutched his shoulders. "You—you wouldn't think of yourself as my—my

boyfriend, would you?"

Tyber smiled against her cheek. "Hell, no."

Your man, baby. The one you're going to acquire an insatiable taste for. He

kissed her without mercy.

"Yes?" he drawled once more against her mouth, the flat of his palms at her

back, bringing