"Only quite delicately. I fumbled a bit, looked distressed, and changed the subject."

"Why?" She straightened in her chair. "If you had him on the line, why'd you cut him loose?"

"Because it felt right. You'll have to trust me on this, Mel. Gumm would have been suspicious if I'd taken him into my confidence so quickly. With you and the woman it's different. More natural."

She mulled it over, and, though she was still frowning, nodded. "All right. I'm inclined to agree. And we've certainly laid the groundwork."

"I spoke with Devereaux just before you got in. They should have a full work-up on Linda Glass by tomorrow, and he'll let us know as soon as Gumm makes a move to check out our story."

"Good enough."

"Also, we're invited to dine with Gumm and his lady on Friday evening."

Mel cocked a brow. "Even better." She leaned forward to kiss him. "You did good work, Donovan."

"I suppose we make a fair team. Have you finished eating?"

"For now."

"Then I think we should prepare for Friday night."

"Prepare what?" She shot him a suspicious look as he pulled her to her feet. "If you're going to start fiddling around with what I'm supposed to wear…"

"Not at all. It's this way," he told her as they walked out of the kitchen. "We're going to be a devoted and deliriously happy married couple."

"Yeah, so?"

"Madly in love," he continued, drawing her toward the stairs.

"I know the drill, Donovan."

"Well, I firmly believe in the Method school of acting. So I'm quite sure it will help our performance if we spend as much time as possible making love."

"Oh, I see." She turned, twining her arms around his neck and backing into the bedroom. "Well, like you said, we have to suffer for our work."

Mel was certain that one day she would look back and laugh. Or at least she would look back with the grim satisfaction of having survived.

Since going into law enforcement she had been kicked, cursed, slugged and insulted, had doors slammed in her face and on her foot. She'd been threatened, propositioned and, on one memorable occasion, she'd been shot at.

All of that was nothing compared to what was being done to her in the Silver Woman.

The hotel's exclusive and expansive beauty salon offered everything from a wash and set to something exotically—and terrifyingly—termed body wrapping.

Mel hadn't had the courage for that one, but she was getting the treatment from head to toe—and every inch between.

She arrived moments before Linda and, falling back on her established persona, greeted the woman like an old friend.

During leg waxing—which, Mel discovered quickly enough, did hurt—they discussed clothes and hairstyles. Smiling through gritted teeth, Mel was glad she'd boned up for hours the night before with fashion magazines.

Later, while whatever pungent glop the beautician smeared on her face hardened, Mel chatted about how much she was enjoying living in Tahoe.

"Our view of the lake is incredible. I really can't wait until we get to know more people. I love to entertain."

"Jasper and I can introduce you around," Linda offered as the pedicurist buffed her toenails. "Being in the hotel business, we know just about everyone you'd want to know."

"That would be marvelous." Mel chanced a look down and tried to look pleased, rather than horrified, that her toenails were being painted fuchsia. "Donovan mentioned to me that he met Jasper on the golf course at the club. Donovan just loves playing golf," she said, hoping it trapped him into spending hours on the green. "It's more a passion than a hobby."

"Jasper's the same way. I can't work up an interest in it myself." She began to chat about different people she wanted Mel to meet, and about how they might get together for tennis or sailing.

Mel agreed animatedly, wondering if a person could actually die of boredom.

Her face was scrubbed clean, and cream was slathered on. Some sort of oil was squirted all over her hair, and then plastic was wrapped around it.

"I just love being pampered this way," Linda murmured. They were both lying back in soft chairs, having their hands massaged and their nails done.

"Me too," Mel said, and prayed they were nearly finished.

"I suppose that's why this job suits me. Most of the time I work nights, so my days are free. And I can make use of all the hotel's benefits."

"Have you worked here long?"

"Almost two years now." She sighed. "It's never dull."

"I imagine you meet all sorts of fascinating people."

"The high-powered sort. That's what I like. From what you were saying the other day, your husband doesn't sound like small change."

Mel would have grinned, but she settled for an indulgent smile. "Oh, he does very well. You could say that Donovan has the magic touch."

They were rinsed, their scalps were massaged—Mel actually found it quite enjoyable—and it was nearly time for the finishing touches. She realized that if Linda didn't probe soon she would have to find an opening to bring up the subject herself.

"You know, Mary Ellen, I was thinking about what you told me the other day."

"Oh." Mel feigned discomfort. "I'm so sorry about that, Linda, dumping on you that way, and so soon after we'd met. I guess I was feeling a little lost and homesick."

"Nonsense." Linda waved her glorious nails. "I think we just hit it off, that's all. You were comfortable with me."

"Yes, I was. But I'm more than a little embarrassed to think that I bored you with all that business about my personal life."

"I wasn't bored at all. I was touched." Her voice was smooth as silk, with just the right touch of sympathy. Mel felt her hackles rising. "And it made me think. Please tell me if I'm getting too personal. But have you ever considered private adoption?"

"You mean going through a lawyer who works with unwed mothers?" Mel gave a long, wistful sigh. "Actually, we did try that route once, about a year ago. We weren't quite sure it was right. It wasn't that the money was a problem, but we were concerned about the legality, and the morality. But it all seemed perfect. We even went so far as to have an interview with the mother. Our hopes were very high. Too high. We picked our names, and window-shopped for baby things. It really looked as if it was going to happen. At the last minute, she backed out."