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without equal. I shall fight them on the land, I shall fight them on the sea, I shall…where are you going?”
    “Good night,” Jan called back, heading straight for her room.
    “But I was just getting to the good part!” Margie cried theatrically.
    “Put it in a book—I’ll read it,” Jan promised, and closed her door quickly.
    Margie turned and went into her bedroom with a smug grin.
    But it was a long time before she slept. Her dreams, when they came, were filled with Cannon Van Dyne. She sat straight up in bed, her body on fire, her breath coming unsteadily. Her lips tingled, the way they had when his finger had parted them, teased them. He might look like a staid business executive, but he knew what to do with a woman. She would bet that there was very little he didn’t know about feminine responses. And that was disquieting. She might become vulnerable to such an overwhelmingly masculine man, and she didn’t want to be taken over. She’d already felt her pulse flutter wildly when he touched her. She hated the thought that he could have any power over her at all.
    She was going to have to keep a safe distance from him when they got to Panama City. That would be her only hope. She couldn’t risk getting involved with another Larry. She liked the taste of freedom too much.
    * * *
    Margie dressed in a conservative white linen suit with a pale green blouse Friday morning, and laughed when Jan came downstairs in a mint green sundress.
    “Now I really feel overdressed,” Margie moaned. “And I’ll bet Andy will be wearing shorts, won’t he?”
    “No telling about Andy.” The younger woman grinned. “But you look very nice.”
    “So do you. Well, let’s double-check and make sure everything’s turned off and locked.” Margie and Jan had made all the arrangements for a two-week absence, canceling Margie’s appointments, notifying Jan’s boss and enlisting Mrs. James’s help to watch the house and take in the mail.
    By the time they’d gone over the top floor and walked back downstairs, a car was pulling up in the driveway. Margie’s heart began to cartwheel. She brushed back her loosened dark hair with a hand that almost trembled with anticipation. Surely it was the thought of the plane trip, not Cannon, causing this unusual nervousness!
    “They’re here!” Jan laughed, running for the door. Margie couldn’t remember a time in their lives when her younger sister had been so full of life and laughter. It was worth any sacrifice to see her stay that way.
    Jan threw open the door, and there was Andy, dressed in Bermuda shorts, a plain tan shirt and socks and sneakers. He bent and kissed Jan gently, slowly, before he raised his head to greet Margie.
    “I told you I was overdressed,” Margie sighed.
    “You look very elegant,” Andy observed critically.
    She struck a pose. “Do call
Vogue
and tell them I’m ready and willing to do their next cover, will you?”
    Jan and Andy giggled, but Cannon’s sudden appearance in the doorway was enough to end their merriment. He looked bone weary and not a little out of humor. He was wearing a safari suit that, on any other man, would have been pretentious. But Margie could actually picture him as the Great White Hunter in khaki tan, with a train of bearers lined up behind him and a rifle over one shoulder. An aura of adventure clung to him like cologne.
    “Are we going by Capetown on the way?” Margie couldn’t resist asking as Andy picked up the cases and led Jan out the door.
    Cannon stared at her, his eyes hot with some violent emotion.
    “Three hours and four cups of coffee from now, I might laugh at that,” he told her. “But right now, I just want to get going.”
    “Why, honey, never let it be said that I stood in the path of a busy man!” she drawled, grabbing her purse.
    He didn’t move, as she’d expected him to, and she barreled right into his big, solid body with an audible gasp.
    He held her by the shoulders, looking down at her with