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that opened onto the redwood deck. There he shed his clothes and, naked, slid into the hot tub that comprised one end of the Italian tile swimming pool, which was the envy of even his most affluent friends.
    He lived on a military salary modest when compared to most young executives. But he had no one to spend money on except himself. He lived well and was willing to splurge extravagantly on creature comforts.
    He'd already forgotten the blonde. He couldn't have picked her out of a lineup. His thoughts centered on the boy he had met that afternoon.
    "Damn good-looking kid," he told Venus, who was so pleased to be included in his private reverie that she braved dunking her muzzle into the bubbling hot water to lick his shoulder.
    Any man would be proud to have a son like David Hibbs … David Kincaid.
    He'd been reared right. He treated his mother with respect. Even though he'd been ecstatic over getting to drive the Porsche, he'd remembered to say thank you afterward.
    He'd buckled his seat belt without being told to. He drove conscientiously and well.
    Law could find little fault with the way Marnie had raised his son.
    His son?
    Was he ready to admit it?
    Until today that summer had been a pleasant but vague memory. What did he really know about Marnie Hibbs and her family? She could be just a damn clever con who assumed that brave-little-soldier demeanor when it served her purpose. She could be just a damn good actress who convincingly pretended to be offended when accused of sending folks threatening letters through the mail.
    She certainly stood to gain a lot if he did acknowledge David as his son. Rearing a kid nowadays was expensive. As the only bachelor currently in the astronaut office, he listened to his cohorts lamenting daily on the high cost of teenagers.
    Freelancing as an illustrator might be lucrative at times, but it wasn't constant or reliable income. There could be months between sizable commissions. Maybe this Hibbs broad was in an economic slump because of her mother's medical bills and had devised this nefarious plan as a means of getting some quick cash.
    But she sure as hell had put him in his place when he'd subtly suggested that money was her motive. She was a tiny package of woman, but when riled she was as hot as a stick of dynamite.
    And damned exciting.
    Swearing, Law left the hot tub and padded back into the kitchen for another beer. As he sipped it, Venus sitting worshipfully at his dripping feet, he thought about all the ramifications a teenage son would have on his life. The blond bimbos would have to taper off considerably. And when he got assigned to another shuttle mission, who would—
    "This is nuts!" he exclaimed to the empty house. "The kid's probably not even mine."
    But as he headed for his shower in the master bathroom, he smiled when he recalled how loud and rambunctious and thoroughly delightful David was, and frowned when he recalled kissing the lady David called Mom – frowned because that kiss had been short but explosive. That kiss had nearly blown the top of his head off. That kiss was one reason the blond bimbo hadn't looked at all appealing tonight.

    * * *
    "G'night, Mom." David stood framed in the doorway. There was a single light burning over Marnie's drawing board where she was doodling trying to come up with an idea for a jewelry store ad.
    "Going to bed so early?"
    "Coach ran our asses off this afternoon. I'm tired."
    She didn't scold his language. Tonight she chose to ignore it because she knew he was using it to test her reaction. Sometimes no reaction was the best one.
    "Sleep well. Remember you're supposed to mow the lawn tomorrow."
    "Five bucks?"
    "Seven if you edge and sweep up too."
    "Deal." He didn't leave. He picked at the wood in the doorframe, a sign that he was about to broach a sensitive subject. "What was Law Kincaid really doing here today?"
    She fumbled her pencil. It rolled to the floor. "Doing here?" she repeated feebly. "You know why he was