"What?" Catherine was on her knees, the protective shield covering her nakedness long forgotten. She was so furious, she leaped to her feet and started traipsing across the mattress in giant steps. Leaping onto the carpet, she searched for something to cover herself with and grabbed a shirt of Royce's that was hanging in the closet. She jerked it so hard the hanger clattered to the floor.

It didn't help matters to have Royce casually sitting up in bed, propped against two fat pillows. "Is there a problem with that?"

"You're damn right there is."

"Then why don't we sit down like two civilized people and discuss this rationally."

"Because," she cried, hands braced on her hips, "I'm too damn mad. I never dreamed...not once that you'd do something like this."

"Catherine, if you'd cool off for a moment we could talk this over rationally."

"I'm cool," she shouted, holding back her hair with both hands. "Answer me one thing."

"All right."

"Do you want a baby?" The whole world seemed to stop. It was as though their marriage, indeed their relationship, hung on a delicate balance, weighed by his answer.

"Yes," he whispered with enough feeling to convince her it was true. "I've tried to tell myself it didn't matter. That I'd leave everything up to you, but damn it, yes, I would like another child." He said it almost as if he were admitting to a weakness.

Catherine was so grateful, her knees weakened. "Oh, Royce, I do, too, so much."

"Apparently the communication between us isn't as good as I'd thought."

"Why are we arguing?" she asked softly.

He grinned. "I don't know. Damn it, Catherine, I love you too much to fight with you."

"I'm glad to hear that." The long-sleeved shirt she'd so hastily donned silently slipped to the floor. With

an unhurried ease, she walked over to the side of the bed, her head held high and proud. "As far as I'm concerned the sooner we make a baby the better, don't you think?"

"Catherine?" Royce sounded unsure, which wasn't like him.

"I want to make love." She sat on the edge of the mattress and sought his mouth, kissing him so lightly that their lips barely touched.

Royce groaned, grabbed her by the hair and plunged his tongue deeply into the moist hollow of her mouth. The kiss was so hot it threatened to blister them both.

"We need to finish our talk first," he murmured breathlessly, but even while he was speaking, he was kissing her. He groaned and shook his head. "Catherine... we can't do this."

"Later... We'll talk later."

"I don't think that would be a good idea." He firmly grabbed hold of both her wrists in an attempt to push her back, but the maneuver didn't work. Instead of fighting, she leaned into him, taking full advantage of the fact his hands were occupied. Murmuring words of love and sexual need, she seduced him. Whispering to him between kisses, she told him all the things she planned to do for him. All the things they'd do for each other.

"Catherine..." He didn't sound nearly so insistent as before. "I don't...we need to talk before we do any thing... first."

"If that's what you really want," she whispered, taking his earlobe between her teeth and biting lightly. "Touch me," she pleaded softly. "Oh, Royce...I need you so much."

His hold on her wrist slackened. "Catherine, I don't mink it would be a good idea—"

"I do..." She was kneeling over him, her thighs spread wide, anticipating the contact, knowing it would play havoc with them both. This was what she wanted, what she needed.

Royce hesitated; his face was hard, his eyes closed, blocking her out, because that was the only way he had of resisting her. The power she felt was strong enough to intoxicate her.

Neither moved. Neither breathed. The pleasure was too intense for either. There was no beginning. No end. The pleasure, once it started, only grew better. The joy burst forth in Catherine's heart until it filled every ounce, every pore of her being.

Joy. Pleasure. The tenderness so sweet it was violent. The beauty of their lovemaking transcending anything she had ever experienced.

When they'd finished, Royce cradled her in his arms. Neither spoke. After what seemed like forever, Royce reached for the blankets, covering them both. His arms held her close, nestling her head against his hard chest. He kissed the crown of her head, and whispered that they would talk in the morning.

Morning. Catherine's eyes slowly drifted open, and she snuggled against Royce's cozy warmth. He must have sensed that she was awake, because he ran his hand over the top of her head, smoothing her hair.

"Are you going to argue with me again?" he whispered.

"That depends on how unreasonable you intend on being," she said, rolling onto her back and arching her body, yawning. "I'm...sorry about last night." She was embarrassed now at the brazen way in which she'd come at him. Using their physical need for each other as a weapon to twist his will was not a tactic she'd ever intended to employ. But he'd made her so furious, she hadn't been thinking properly.

"I want a child, Royce," she told him, her voice low and determined.

"It's not a problem," he assured her, "as long as you're out of the Navy."

His stubbornness stunned her. "Why should I be the one to give up my commission?" she asked, in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. Her emotions were pitching around like a small rowboat upon a stormy ocean. The waves of righteousness slapped roughly against the sides. It was all so unfair. She had to make Royce understand that.

"How about if you give up your commission first?" she offered, hoping he'd see the foolishness of his logic.

He didn't answer her right away. "You agreed before we were married. We discussed it and—"

"We didn't," she denied vehemently.

"...and you chose to stay in the Navy," Royce finished as though she'd never spoken. "Obviously it wasn't as clear as I'd thought it was, and that's unfortunate, but the fact remains..."

"I'm going to have a child, Royce, and I'm going to be the best mother you ever saw. I'm going to prove to you that I can also be a damn good lieutenant commander as well—"

"No." His voice was gruff and angry.

"Why do I have to be the one to resign?" She wasn't being flippant this time, but she honestly wanted to know.

"Because a child deserves a mother."

"What about a father?"

"One of us has to accept the majority of the responsibility."

"We can't share the duty?"

"No," he argued, more heatedly this time.

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" she demanded. Royce might be a lot of things, but she'd always found him to be fair.

"Because Sandy—"

"Now just a minute," Catherine said, struggling into a sitting position. She narrowed her eyes as she stared down on him. "Get this straight right now, Royce Nyland. I refuse to be compared with your first wife. I'm not Sandy, and I won't have you holding me up to her." She climbed off the bed and stalked across the room, heading for the bathroom to take a long hot shower and cool off her indignation. She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "There's something you should know." She didn't dare look at him.

"I woke up...in the middle of the night last night..." She wasn't proud of this and refused to turn around and look at him as she admitted what she'd done.

"And what?" Royce demanded.

"I...I flushed my birth control pills down the toilet."

She heard his muffled curse as she stepped inside the bathroom.

The shower was running, and Catherine was standing under the stinging spray when the door was thrust open and Royce stepped inside.

"What the hell did you do that for?" He didn't need to explain what he was asking about.

"Because." Catherine was well aware her answer didn't make sense.

"It won't make a whole lot of difference. All I have to do is make a trip to the drugstore."

"Fine. Do it." She reached for the bar of soap and lathered the washcloth. "I'm tired of having everything rest on my shoulders. It's time for someone else to take responsibility."

Royce frowned at that. The water pelted down around him, splashing against the sides of the cubicle.

"I'm not going to argue with you. These days are too precious to spend fighting. Even if we were to

agree about you getting pregnant, it's too soon. Let's wait a year and talk about it then. A lot could change in that time. There's no need for either of us to get caught up in our disagreements when there's so much we do agree on."

He shouldn't make this much sense. It should be black-and-white. Cut-and-dried.

His hand was under her chin. "I love you, Catherine, I'd much rather be making love to you than standing here debating a subject I assumed was closed." He leaned forward and gently brushed moist lips over hers.

Heaven help her, but she couldn't resist him. Not like this. She stood on her tiptoes and looped her arms around his neck, easing her softness against his hard, lean strength. Steam fogged the windows and mirrors, but Catherine was convinced it had nothing to do with the hot spray of water and everything to do with the way Royce was kissing her.

As it happened, the water turned cold a whole lot sooner than either of them did.

Catherine was frying bacon for Kelly's breakfast when Royce came bolting down the stairs. He grabbed his jacket and was heading toward the front door when Kelly stopped him.

"Where're you going, Dad?"

He hesitated and cast a dark frown in Catherine's direction. "Shopping."

"It's too early in the morning for anything to be open," Kelly informed him with perfect logic.

"A drugstore will be," he muttered, and moved out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Smiling contentedly to herself, Catherine continued to fry the bacon.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this, Catherine told herself a month later. A woman didn't flush her birth control pills down the toilet one minute and, bingo, turn up pregnant me next. This was one for the record books. Something like this was supposed to take weeks. Months.

Not seconds.

As far as Catherine could figure it out, she was more fertile than the Napa Valley.

She didn't know what she was going to tell Royce. Or when. Not soon, she decided. This pregnancy was something that would demand diplomacy and tact. Good grief, only a handful of people in Bangor even knew she was married.

If only she weren't so thrilled about it. So excited. Of course being separated the way they were, she might even be able to have the baby without Royce knowing.

But that was ridiculous. He was the father. He deserved to know. Kelly deserved to know.

She waited all day for his phone call, deciding to play it by ear. At precisely six, her time, just after she'd poured herself a cup of coffee, the phone rang.

She grabbed it off the hook, holding the receiver tight against her ear. She reminded herself that she was an accomplished attorney who knew her way around the courtroom. She could argue with the best of them. Her arguments had swayed more than one judge. All she needed to do was remain collected and poised. This child, although unexpected, was a welcome gift. Once Royce saw things from her point of view, he'd change his mind. He didn't have any choice. The deed was done.