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LENGTH: Mid Novel
SENSUALITY: Spicy

Cover art (c) Eliza Black
ISBN 1-58608-151-9
Download $3.50

Rating: Contains graphic sex.

"Barri Bryan has given us a potpourri consisting of enough unbridled sexual passion to twist our jeans in a knot. Bryan brings us a believable story filled with lusty action and a usage of words that jacks up one's heart rate. You owe it to yourself to read Honky Tonk Cowboy. It's Sexy and a glistening-gutsy Gold." Bridges Magazine

"HONKY TONK COWBOY is one of those infuriating romances that is both irritating and yet fascinating. The reader may want to throw the book at the wall in frustration, berating the heroine for being such a victim, and also may want to slap the hero for being such an ass. The passionate nature of this love/hate relationship can alienate yet enthrall the reader. Yet in completing the story, the growth of both characters makes the novel worth reading. Sometimes happily-ever-after in fiction, however implausible, can be satisfying." WordWeaving

"In Honky-Tonk Cowboy, Barri Bryan has created characters that live and breathe as thoroughly as you and I. Honky-Tonk Cowboy is not for the weak! The emotional conflict between Blake and Sarah is powerful and poignant, and the storyline includes a few hair-raising episodes. In every good sense, Honky-Tonk Cowboy tore me apart. I empathized with Sarah Scott, and I agonized over the situation she found herself in. I cried for her and for Blake, and I read the book as quickly as I could because I wanted them to be happy. I knew that by the end of the story everything would have to work out, although I didn't know how; their problems were complicated and I saw no clear-cut path to a happy ending. Luckily, Ms. Bryan knew exactly where the story should go, and the ending was everything I could have wished for two people I had grown to care about.

If you enjoy passionate romance with intrigue and a little bit of country music, this is a book for you. I enjoyed almost every single page, and I'm happy to recommend Honky-Tonk Cowboy as a wonderful contemporary romance!" Ivy Quill Reviews, http://www.ivyquill.com

"Ms. Bryan's hero and heroine are flawed and sympathetic. Their story will be familiar to anyone who has suffered the pangs of unrequited love or addictive passion. It is a rougher story than many of this genre, and readers should be warned that they will want to scold, counsel and even berate both lead characters, as well as several secondary ones, throughout the course of the story. I recommend this book be taken in small doses, with allowances made for the possibility of personal growth for the reader as the characters resolve their conflicts in time to create a happy ending." Writers Club Romance Group on AOL

"Masterful suspense and sensational loving create a titillating romance. I didn't want to put this book down nor did I want it to end. Texas never seemed so passionate, so alive. It's obviously crafted by an author, or in this case, a team of authors, who have a deep abiding love for their state. Barri Bryan's earned a loyal fan for life." Knowbetter.com reviews

"Many sexual scenes, so be prepared. The couple broke up and made up several times in the story. But even with all that bouncing around, the story managed to flow easily. The side characters had lives of their own, and hopefully will have their own books as well. Way to go Barri Bryan! MORE!" Huntress Book Reviews

"Four Stars! I could not seem to put HONKY TONK COWBOY down; I yearned to learn more about these characters. I can recommend HONKY TONK COWBOY for an enjoyable read!" Scribes World Reviews

HONKY-TONK COWBOY

By

Barri Bryan

© copyright by Billie and Herb Houston, Oct. 2000
Cover Art by Eliza Black
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA. 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

Chapter One

Headlines emblazoned across the front page of The Daily Clarion struck Sarah Scott with the force of a bullet fired at close range. JOHN MARKUM RELEASED FROM HUNTSVILLE PRISON. The paper slid from her fingers and fell to the floor.

"John's out of prison?" A cold shiver traveled down her spine, and lodged in the pit of her stomach. "I should have been notified. After I begged the parole board not to let him go." Her frightened gaze turned toward the young woman who was slumped in a chair across from her. "They didn't listen to a word I said."

Karen Hamilton frowned. "You didn't know John was being released? It's been on the news all day. Where have you been?"

Sarah swallowed over the tightness in her throat. "I worked at the library today." Her head felt light, her palms were sweaty. "What am I going to do?"

Lines of worry creased Karen's high, smooth brow. "There's nothing you can do."

That was true. With a nod of her head, Sarah agreed. "You're right."Bitter experience had taught her the futility of railing against injury and injustice. Her voice dropped to a resigned whisper. "A mad man is being loosed on society, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Look on the positive side," Karen sat up and took a deep breath."John's spent five years in prison. He's undergone psychiatric evaluation and treatment. He's being released for good behavior. Maybe he's changed."

John Markum would never change. Sarah knew that; she suspected her friend did too. "John is, and will always be, a mad, disruptive force. He destroys everything he touches."

"Then you should stay out of his way."

"God knows I'm going to try." Sarah huddled in an overstuffed chair looking small and vulnerable. Her head dropped causing her honey-colored hair to fall like a curtain across her face, hiding the fear that dyed her amethyst eyes to a deep shade of indigo. Suddenly her chin lifted. "I'm stronger now, and wiser. He won't destroy my life again."

"Try to forget about John," Karen pleaded. "Let's talk about something more pleasant. Reid should be home soon, and we'll have dinner. I cooked your favorite, chicken-fried steak." She paused before adding, a little too casually, "By the way, his brother Blake will be with him."

Sarah closed her eyes and groaned. It wasn't enough that John Markum was out of prison, now her best friend was playing matchmaker. "Why did you invite someone else? You know how I feel about meeting strangers."

Karen twisted in her chair and looked uncomfortable. "I wouldn't do that to you. I didn't know Reid's brother was coming when I invited you for dinner."

Karen Hamilton was Sarah's oldest and dearest friend. She wanted to believe her. "So all of this is just a happy coincidence?"

"Coincidence? Yes. Happy? No. Believe me, I didn't plan this."

Karen's denial held a ring of truth. "Was it Reid's idea?" Sarah didn't know Karen's new husband all that well.

"I don't think so." Karen's fingers dug into the chair arm. "I suspect Blake invited himself, although Reid would never admit that to me."

Guilt moved in to replace Sarah's doubt. She had been so engrossed in her own problems, that she'd failed to recognize Karen's obvious distress. "Are you having in-law trouble so soon? I thought you liked Reid's family."

"I do. Reid's parents are wonderful. But Blake? Oh hell, Sarah when you meet the man you'll understand."

It wasn't like Karen to speak in such derogatory terms about someone who was virtually a member of her family. "Understand what? What's wrong with Reid's brother?"

"Nothing." Karen lifted her hands, then let them fall to her lap."Everything."

Sarah inclined her head to on side. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He doesn't like me. He thinks Reid's marrying me was a mistake." Karen frowned. "I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy. He's bad news." Her frown deepened as she shook her finger in Sarah's direction. "I want you to stay away from him."

"Karen, I can take care of myself."

"Since when?" Karen asked sarcastically.

Sarah laughed. "After all these years, you're still running interference for me. I think it all began with Jimmy Collins."

Karen's mouth curved in a reminiscent smile. "Even when you were six years old, you couldn't handle aggressive males, and Jimmy Collins got what he deserved."

Jimmy Collins had been a first-grade ruffian intent on making Sarah's first day at school miserable. He was clutching her arm, and aiming his pursed lips toward her face, when a much larger and more assertive Karen stepped in. A kick to the shins, and a slap across the head had sent Jimmy running for cover.

"Would you have believed then that Jimmy Collins, grade-school Romeo, would grow up to be James Jacob Collins, millionaire entrepreneur?" Mischief lurked in Sarah's smile. "Maybe I should have let him kiss me."

"Good Lord, Sarah, you've never had any sense where men were concerned." Shadows were collecting in the corners of the neat little living room. Karen moved gracefully across the floor and flicked the light switch by the door. "Maybe that's the answer. Maybe I should give Blake a kick on the shin, and a slap on the head, and send him packing."

Sarah's eyes rounded in surprise. "I believe you're serious."

"I am." Karen dropped any effort to conceal her dislike for her brother-in-law. "There's something about that man that makes me want to pat him on the back with a knife in my hand."

Sarah thought, as she watched the pained expression on Karen's face, that Blake Hamilton had no right to make his new sister-in-law so unhappy.

"Reid adores him." Karen blew a blast of air through her mouth. "A hold-over, I suppose, from the hero worship he developed when he was a teenager, and Blake was a star bronc rider on the rodeo circuit."

"What does Blake do now?" Sarah asked, finding herself being caught up in the mystique of Reid's older brother.

"As little as possible. When he could no longer straddle a horse, he came home and bought a honky-tonk."

"A what?" Sarah giggled.

"All right, then, a night club. For all his faults, Reid adores him . . . " Karen's voice died on the end of a sigh.

"You not only dislike him, you resent the influence he has over Reid." Sarah found that thought vaguely disturbing.

"That's because Blake's a bad influence," a subdued Karen admitted.

"Does Blake have a wife or children?"

"No children. He had a wife once. She divorced him years ago. Reid says Blake was devastated. I suspect he got what he deserved."

"Maybe that explains his attitude now," Sarah suggested, feeling a little troubled by Karen's lack of objectivity.

"Don't feel sorry for that womanizing rascal. He wasn't a paragon of virtue before his wife found someone else, and he certainly hasn't been since!"

Sarah knew how easy it was to misjudge others because of circumstances. "Give the man a chance, Karen. I've learned from experience it's not wise to judge a person by what's happened in the past."

"There is no comparison between you and Blake," Karen argued with a wave of her hand. "You're just a girl who got caught in an unfortunate situation."

Sarah looked around Karen's comfortable living room and thought how little her friend knew of the seamier side of life. "I'm not a girl, I'm a thirty-two-year old woman. I'm also a felon and an ex-convict."

"Surely you don't blame yourself for what happened?" Karen raised shocked eyebrows. "None of it was your fault."

Sarah didn't want to argue about her guilt, or lack of it. "I'm guilty of crimes that the state can't punish me for."

"So you keep on punishing yourself." Karen shook her head sadly from side to side. "You were the victim, not the perpetrator."

Sarah had believed that once. She knew now it wasn't true. Four years in prison had stripped her of all her innocence and most of her illusions. "I can't pass the blame for my own mistakes on to someone else, but just the same I love you for believing in me, and for defending me."

"Someone may need to defend you, literally, against John Markum now that he's out of prison."

The mention of John Markum sent a tremor of fear through Sarah. "I thought we agreed not to talk about John."

"We did. I'm sorry I mentioned him." Karen glanced at the clock. "Reid should be here by now."

Karen might believe Sarah was a victim. Sarah doubted that anyone else did. Most of the people in the little town of Summerville referred to her as that Scott woman, or notorious Sarah Scott. "Sometimes I wonder about the wisdom of coming back here to live. Summerville is such a small town."

"With such a long memory." Karen jumped to her feet as a car, followed by a pickup, pulled into the driveway. "That's Reid and his brother. Get the door, Sarah. I have to see about dinner." Karen hurried toward the kitchen.

"Karen," Sarah called after her friend's retreating figure, "come back here, now."

Karen stuck her head around the side of the dining room door, and made a wry face. "You said you could take care of yourself."

Squaring her shoulders, Sarah pulled the front door open. Reid stood on the other side. With him was a tall, dark man wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. Stepping back, she explained, "Karen's in the kitchen."

Reid responded with a booming, "Hello, Sarah!" He preceded his brother into the room. "Something smells delicious."

His brother was not nearly so cheerful. A most reluctant Blake Hamilton followed Reid inside. He acknowledged his introduction to Sarah with a cursory, "Howdy, ma'am."

He knows who I am, Sarah thought. The cool greeting came as no surprise. "Good evening." Sarah let her eyes slide over the man who stood in the doorway, hat in his hand, looking uncomfortable and ill-at-ease. He was tall, with the muscular build of an athlete. The incredible blue of his deep-set eyes contrasted strangely with the jet black of his curly hair. Sarah nodded in his direction. "I'm happy to meet you." She was lying through her teeth. Nothing made her more unhappy than having to meet a so-called eligible male.

Despite Karen's remarkable culinary efforts, dinner was a miserable experience. Talk was sporadic and stilted. Karen, who was obviously irritated by her brother-in-law's presence, spoke only to Sarah and Reid, ignoring Blake completely.

Reid, clearly embarrassed by Karen's attempt to exclude his brother, overcompensated by trying, repeatedly, to draw Blake into the conversation.

Blake seemed completely indifferent to Karen's snub. He spoke only when his brother asked him a direct question, giving one of three answers each time he responded: "Yeah," "Nope," or "Beats me." His considered apathy only added to the tension that sparked through the room like an exposed electric wire.

By the time dinner was over, Sarah felt as if she had been trampled by a herd of longhorns. Over coffee and desert she made her bid for freedom. "I hate to end such an enjoyable evening, but I'm scheduled to work at the library tomorrow. I really must go."

"Where's your car?" Reid seemed relieved to see the evening drawing to a close. "I didn't see it in the driveway."

"I came here from the library, by way of the gym," Sarah explained. "I walked." She held up her gym bag for Reid to see. "I have to go."

"It's dark out," Reid protested. "You can't go wandering around town at this hour."

Karen disagreed, as she had with everything Reid had said all evening."Oh, come on, Reid. This is Summerville. Nothing ever happens here."

"I'll take you home," Reid insisted, then paused. "Or better yet, Blake can drive you home. It's on his way."

It wasn't, and Reid knew as much. He was using Sarah's leaving as an excuse to get rid of Blake too. She struggled to hide her annoyance. "I prefer to walk."

Ignoring her protest, Reid turned to his brother. "Blake will you take our guest home?"

Sarah sent Karen a look that pleaded for help. "I'm quite capable of finding my way home."

Karen did a complete about-face. "It's not the distance. John could be out there somewhere."

"He wouldn't come here, to Summerville." Sarah protested, as she realized at last, that Reid and Karen were agreeing on something. They both wanted Blake to go and take Sarah with him.

For the first time during the long evening, Blake spoke of his own volition. "We could argue about this all night, but I have to get back to San Antonio. Get your bag, Ms. Scott, and let's go." Walking out the door, he left Sarah to grab her gym bag, and follow after him.

As Sarah got into Blake's pickup and fastened her seat belt, he asked, with a touch of insolence, "You do live in Summerville, don't you?"

"Yes." Sarah was still trying to recover from being so unceremoniously ejected from her best friend's home.

"Tell me where." Blake put his key in the ignition.

"Across from the Baptist Church."

"That's on Oaks Street isn't it?" The motor coughed then purred to life. Over the sound of shifting gears, Sarah answered, "Yes."

Blake backed from the drive, turned his pickup south and drove toward the church.

She was stuck in an uncomfortable situation. She may as well make the best of it. Sarah looked around Blake's cluttered truck. He certainly wouldn't win any prize for neatness. His dash was littered with an array of useless items: Papers, envelopes, a flashlight, a pair of sunshades. An empty beer can lay on the floor under her feet. Two lengths of rope, one long, one short, hung over the gun rack that ran across the back glass. "Karen tells me you were once a rodeo star."

"That's right." Blake gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.

"Is that why you carry ropes around in your truck?" she asked, hoping to elicit some kind of response.

"They're not ropes, one's a lasso, the other's a tying string." His abrupt reply should have silenced her, it didn't.

"But that's for calf roping."

His tone moved from bored to belligerent. "So?"

Sarah shrugged off his short reply. "So Reid said you were a saddle bronc rider."

"I was." Lights from a passing car flashed across Blake's granite profile. She could read nothing from his set expression.

An uneasy silence replaced Sarah's feeble attempts at conversation. She thought, as she stared at a passing car, that she had never before been so effectively ignored. Still, Blake's contempt was no more than she expected. After all, she was Sarah Scott, ex-convict.

As they neared the church, Blake questioned in a bored tone, "Which house?"

Sarah pointed toward a bungalow nestled far back from the road in a grove of oak trees. "That one."

Blake wheeled into the driveway, and jammed his foot into the brake, bringing the truck to a screeching halt.

"Be careful." Sarah put her hands against the dash to steady herself.

With a sigh, Blake turned to face her. "Good night, Ms. Scott."

So much for chivalry, Sarah thought, as she opened the pickup door. Blake was not about to escort her to her house. Obviously, he didn't want to be seen with her. She let her eyes scan him from head to toe."Good-bye, Mr. Hamilton." Then got out of the truck, and slammed the door, hard! As she turned, a tug at her skirt made her realize it was caught in the door of the truck. She stepped back and lost her balance as her heel caught on a tree root. The skirt parted company with the closed door with force enough to send her sprawling on the ground in an undignified heap. When she tried to rise, a sharp pain shot though her ankle.

Blake got out, came around his pickup and stood looking down at her. As she struggled to rise to her feet, he asked, "Do you need help, Ms. Scott?"

"I twisted my ankle." Raising one arm, Sarah ordered, "Give me your hand. I can't get up."

Instead, he reached down, and with one fluid motion, scooped her into his arms, and began to carry her toward the house. He was holding her too close to him. She felt the steady beat of the life force that flowed through him; sensed the masculine strength that emanated from his muscular body. Her heart gave an uneasy lurch. "Put me down."

His grip tightened. "Will you be still? I don't want to drop you."

"I don't like being manhandled, Mr. Hamilton."

"I don't like being ordered around, Ms. Scott. Not even by a pretty little blonde with purple eyes." He carried her up the steps and onto the porch. "Where's your key?"

"Put me down." His overpowering strength was smothering her. "The key's in the mailbox. I can manage on my own from here."

Blake stood Sarah on her feet. "That's no place to leave your key." He found the key, unlocked the door, then hauled Sarah back into his arms, and pushed the door open with his foot. "It's stupid to lock a door, then leave the key in the mailbox."

Immediately, Sarah's defenses went up. No one, but no one called her stupid and got away with it. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

"It's not an opinion, it's a fact." Blake dumped Sarah on the couch. "You should take your key with you when you leave."

If she told him she felt safer if her door key wasn't on her person, he would only ask more questions. It was none of his business anyway. "I don't need you to tell me what to do." After years of self recrimination, Sarah was still struggling to find her self respect and rebuild her self-image. She was not going to let some boorish cowboy denigrate it. "I don't need anyone for any reason."

"You needed me to help you get into the house." Using his thumb, Blake pushed his hat to the back of his head. "You're kind of cute when you're mad." A seductive, lopsided smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He was making light of every word she'd spoken. "I believe you were leaving. Close the door on your way out."

Blake's eyes drifted around the room. "Do you live here alone?"

"That's none of your business!"

A smirk replaced his smile. "Can you make it to bed by yourself?"

Cold fury caused the skin on the back of Sarah's neck to crawl. Did he think because of her past he could come into her home and make improper advances? "Will you please leave?"

The smirk faded. He took a step backward. "I was only trying to be helpful." Turning on his heel, he strode out the front door, closing it behind him as he went.

"Helpful?" Sarah fumed, "That kind of help, I don't need." She tried to stand. A stabbing pain shot up her leg. The insistent ringing of the telephone made her lean back on the couch and reach for the receiver. "Yes?"

Karen's worried voice sounded across the wire. "Sarah, honey, I owe you an apology. Reid says I should apologize to Blake too. Is he there?"

"No, he just left."

"Then I'll catch him another time." Karen's relief sounded in her long sigh. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved tonight, and I'm sorry that Reid was so adamant about having Blake take you home."

Sarah's concern was more for Karen and Reid than for herself. "Are things all right between you and Reid? All through dinner, you both seemed so angry."

"I was angry with Blake, and I took it out on you and Reid. I'm sorry. I could have killed Blake tonight, for being so obviously bored by our company."

"He recognized me, Karen. That made him cautious."

"Cautious, my Aunt Minnie. He was inconsiderate and tactless."

"You didn't give him much of an opportunity to be friendly." Sarah attempted to soothe her old friend. "He's not that bad, Karen."

Her words seemed to have the opposite effect. "You like him?"

What could Sarah say? "I don't know him all that well."

"Stay away from that man, Sarah. Blake attracts women like stale beer attracts flies. And considering your track record, I'm beginning to have second thoughts about letting him take you home."

Sarah smiled into the telephone. "Don't worry, Karen. I don't intend to become involved with your brother-in-law." Or any other man, she thought. She had learned her lesson well.

"I'm glad to hear that." Karen carefully changed the subject. "Now I can get on to more important matters. The Committee of Seven is meeting at my house a week from Saturday. I'm having a backyard barbecue. I need your help with the menu and the shopping, and a dozen other things. Can you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"I'd love to." Sarah suspected her friend wanted to make sure she stayed busy. "Tell me where, and when . . . " Sarah looked around her living room. "Karen, I left my gym bag in Blake's pickup and it has the book Paul gave me on our wedding day in it. What's his telephone number?"

"Why were you carrying that expensive book around in a gym bag?"

"It was on display at the library along with some other rare books."

Karen seemed reluctant to give Sarah Blake's number. "I could call him for you."

"Karen, for heaven's sake, will you give me the number? I want my book back, and as soon as possible."

Reluctantly, Karen agreed. "Oh, all right, but it's against my better judgment."

Sarah hung up and called Blake's number immediately. She left a message on his answering machine, telling him that her bag in his pickup, and asking him to call her.

When three days passed without any response, Sarah decided he wasn't going to answer. She would probably have to enlist Karen's help to get her book back. Maybe Karen was right about her brother-in-law. How could he be so careless about another person's property?

Early Sunday morning, Sarah answered an insistent knock on her door, and saw Blake, standing on the other side of the screen. Her gym bag was in his hand; a big smile wreathed his face. "Hello, Ms. Scott. Remember me?"

Ignoring the man and his greeting, Sarah opened the screen and grabbed her bag. "My bag! I thought I'd lost it. Is my book still in here?" She closed the door, leaving Blake standing outside.

Without an invitation, he stepped through the door, and closed it behind him. "Mind if I come in?"

Sarah unzipped the bag, and reached for her book. "Oh thank God! I thought I'd lost it!" Tears sprang to her eyes as she let the bag fall to the floor and hugged the book to her chest.

"The bag was in the seat of my truck." Blake explained. "I was coming to Summerville anyway, so I thought I'd bring it to you."

"I was so afraid I'd lost it." Sarah caressed the book with loving fingers. Through a rainbow of tears, she read: Sonnets of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, then opened the book to the inscription on the fly leaf. The bold cursive script looked back at her: To the ends of Being and ideal Grace - with my lost saints, my darling, Paul.

A deep voice intruded. "Who's Paul?"

"There is no Paul." Sarah ran her hands along the ends of the slim volume. "Paul was my husband. He's . . . dead." A purple flame blazed through her tears. "You read my inscription! You had no right!"

Blake was anything but repentant. "I opened the book," One shoulder rose then fell in an indifferent shrug. "and there it was, so I read it. It didn't make a lot of sense."

That was understandable. He'd probably never read a love poem in his entire life. "Why did you open the bag?"

His face softened. "I like your lavender bra and panties."

"I called you, you knew how important and expensive this book was." Gradually, outrage and anger gave way to grudging relief. "You could have had the courtesy to return my call. Why didn't you?"

An aggravating little grin tugged at one side if his mouth. "I thought you left the bag in my truck so you'd have an excuse to call me."

She didn't know which was more repulsive, his honesty or his ego. "And what made you change your mind?"

"You didn't call again." He sounded almost disappointed.

Sarah was set to give this egotistical cowboy the tongue lashing of his life. Second thoughts caused her to reconsider. He was Karen's brother-in-law, and Karen was her dearest friend. It would be best if she made some kind of peace with him. She tamped down her anger. "You

drove a long way to return my bag. I'm grateful. Would you like a cup of coffee before you go?"

"Coffee sounds great." He followed her into the small, immaculately clean kitchen.

Placing two cups on the counter, Sarah poured coffee as she asked, "Sugar? Cream?"

"Black." Leaning back in his chair, Blake let his eyes slide the length of Sarah's small figure. "You're a very unusual looking woman."

Sarah set the steaming cups on the table. His abrupt compliment caught her off guard. "Unusual?"

His smile was sweet and guileless. "Your hair's the color of ripe wheat, and those purple eyes. I never knew anyone with purple eyes before."

What a line, Sarah thought. She sat across from him, poured cream into her coffee, and stirred it slowly. Should she tell him that he was wasting his time? Wisdom dictated diplomacy. Laying her spoon on the table, she met his frankly appraising gaze. "I have never thought of

myself as unusual."

"Oh, but you are and I apologize for reading your book. It was a thoughtless thing to do."

A pained expression moved across Sarah's face. Did he expect her to sanction his high-handed actions? "Yes, it was."

Completely poised, and seemingly not the least offended by her sharp retort, Blake took a sip of coffee, then set his cup in the saucer. "Has your husband been dead long?"

Over the lump in her throat, Sarah replied, "Five years." Could it be that this man didn't know about her past? "My husband was Doctor Paul William Scott."

Realization leaped into his eyes. "The physics professor who tried to sell his research findings to a foreign government?" He took another quick sip of coffee. "You're that Sarah Scott?"

Dropping her head, Sarah traced the tablecloth's pattern with the handle of her spoon. "You didn't know?"

"I didn't have an inkling."

Raising her head, she met his stiletto stare. "The evening you brought me home from Karen's? I thought you knew who I was, and that's why you made improper advances."

"Made improper advances?" He seemed genuinely surprised by her curt accusation. "I wasn't making advances of any kind. I was trying to help you."

"You really didn't know who I was?" Sarah took a quick sip of coffee to ease the catch in her throat.

"I had no idea you were Paul Scott's wife."

"I'm nobody's wife." Sarah pushed her cup back. "I'm Paul Scott's widow."

With a touch of irony, Blake asked, "Didn't you spend some time in jail?"

"I served four years in prison for my alleged crimes." How many times had she seen that look of accusation on a stranger's face? It always left her feeling hurt and defensive.

"Alleged?" Blake's brows met together in a frown. "Are you telling me you weren't guilty?"

"No." An old, familiar pain moved in around Sarah's heart. She had long ago learned the futility of trying to convince anyone of her innocence. "You can believe anything you want to believe. I don't care anymore."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Wasn't Doctor Scott involved in some kind of germ warfare project?"

Even as she spoke, Sarah wondered why she bothered. "The proper term is genetic weapons research."

"And he tried to sell that information to a foreign government?" Suddenly, Blake's face was grim.

"Paul had no idea that the man he had hired to help him with his research had ties to a foreign power."

Blake had the good grace to look uncomfortable, but his curiosity overrode his discretion. "This other man, your accomplice, what was his name?"

"John Markum." Sarah gritted her teeth at the sound of her own words.

Blake nodded, "John Markum told a different story."

"He lied." Blake hadn't believed anything she had told him. She wasn't surprised. Neither had the jury that convicted her. "John is an obsessive liar, among other things."

Blake lifted his cup in a little salute. "Sure." He swallowed the last of his coffee, then pushed his chair back from the table, and stared down at his watch. "I have to go."

Sarah followed him to the door. "Good bye, and thank you for returning my bag."

She watched as he got into his pickup, and drove away. He had judged and convicted her all over again.

Sarah picked up her book. Regret brought pain, then tears. Those tears fell on the slim volume she held in her hands as the scissors of her memory sheared away the years, and she was back in that old heartache again. Wiping the tears from the book, she whispered, "Oh, Paul, I want to believe that you've forgiven me." A shiver shook through her slim frame. "If I could only forgive myself."