"I am feeling better," she'd assured them. But the sun had bothered her, so she had gone in.

The sun had bothered him that day, too. But he had felt safe with the others.

Odd, he hadn't realized that he hadn't felt safe alone.

Finally, though, he'd felt that he needed a shower, so he had rinsed off a long, long time, towel-dried, and flopped down on his bed, feeling a total lack of energy.

He had appreciated the BBC, but felt then as if there was really nothing to watch on television.

The news just never seemed to get any better.

They were due to meet for dinner, but not for another hour or so. He was clean, he was presentable. He was ready.

Doug flicked the channels. There was an Italian game show on with lovely, scantily clad girls. He watched it for a few minutes, then switched the channel.

He wished that he had more energy. He just didn't. Maybe a nap wouldn't be a bad thing.

His lashes fell, then rose, then fell, then rose.

He jerked, flicked the channel changer again.

He came back to the Italian game show. Now, the girls were topless. They were playing some kind of strip poker. Men in tuxedos were egging them on.

He realized that his eyes were glued to the television.

Somebody apparently made some kind of a bet. A giant card was played, and one girl lost. She let out a little cry and everyone laughed, and so she walked out on the stage in high heels and a teeny-weeny thong. Turning her backside to the camera, she made an art form of removing the thong.

He saw that another woman was walking toward her. At first, he saw only the back of the other woman.

She, too, was in heels and a thong. She walked right up against the backside of the blonde and began stroking her. The blonde turned and the two began to caress one another.

"One hell of a game show!" he muttered out loud.

Then the woman with the blonde turned, and Doug jerked up, staring at the television.

It was Gema.

And suddenly, she was talking to him from the television screen.

"Hi, Doug. Come on in… you know you like it. You know you want it."

His jaw dropped. So Gema had…

Well, achieved some kind of stardom. Even if it was on an Italian porn game show.

Should they really be showing this stuff? Kids could be watching.

"Doug! Pay attention," Gema called with a pout.

He did. And she and her partner began doing things…

Gema, her hands still all over the other woman, turned to him. "You let me in once, Dougie. Come on…

give me a nice, sweet, wet welcome!"

He was dreaming again, he realized. He needed to wake up.

Why wake up?

It was the most action he'd had in ages.

"Hey, baby, let the dreams begin!" he told Gema.

Suddenly, she was there with him. Just as she had been on the television. Breasts… purely global. And that outfit… stiletto heels, tiny lace thong…

"Doug… I am just so hungry for you!"

"Come and eat me up then," he responded.

"Oh, I intend to," she whispered.

Once again, she was stalking him. Bring it on. He lay with his hands laced behind his head, a grin of pure, unadulterated pleasure splitting his features from ear to ear.

She came to him, paused near his feet, then lifted one long leg onto the bed, giving him a magnificent view.

A second long leg came up. She stood over him.

Then she dropped down, agile as a contortionist, spread-eagle over his hips.

Pure glory raced through him. She shook her hair teasingly over him as she lowered her face to his chest, kissing and nipping at the flesh. She inched against him, undulating like a pole dancer. Her lips found his while her hands zoned in, low on his body, gloving him, leading him deep into the heat of her body.

Her lips… slid. Her hips moved.

He felt like an eighteen-year-old on a roller-coaster ride. She moved like a riveter, and it worked—Lord, yes, it worked—it was flying faster than an SST, and he was exploding like a teenybopper and he felt the magic work through his muscles, he felt it…

A prick…

Not even pain.

Then he heard it.

A slurping sound. Slow and sensual as all else, and…

"You're delicious, Doug," she whispered, "and tonight, we've got all night. There's no one here to stop me."

She giggled.

"I can eat and eat and eat and eat and eat until… you die!"

"Stephanie!"

"Steph!"

"Stop!"

Stephanie jerked, as if she had just awakened. Something…

A noise.

Voices.

She wasn't sure who was shouting, or why.

She didn't even know what she had been doing, but it suddenly seemed as if there was a cacophony of voices coming at her, calling her name.

She blinked furiously, and she was terrified, because she didn't know what she was doing, or where she was going.

And she suddenly found herself on an outcropping surrounding a cliff. There was barely room for her feet. A frigging goat might have had a problem getting where she was.

"Stephanie, careful! Stay where you are."

Grant's voice. She blinked, oddly thinking that it was Grant who had gotten her here. She felt a surge of anger against him.

"Stephanie… stay still. He's coming!" Another voice, female… it was Liz.

There was no rain, and no lightning, but the ground fog had risen. Through it, to her right, she could see Grant hugging the cliff side, making his way to her.

She swallowed and turned. Clay Barton was coming from the other direction. She tried to look behind her.

There was a sheer drop.

Fingers touched her. They were cold as ice. She had a vision again, bones rising from the ground, touching her with an icy blast. She nearly screamed.

"Steph, it's me—don't jerk away!"

Grant had reached her. He sounded angry, but as if he were trying to control the emotion in his voice.

"Take my hand—walk with me."

She balked.

"Steph!"

She swallowed hard, recent memory cascading down upon her. This couldn't be Grant's fault. She hadn't been with him. All right, so she had been looking for him, but…

How the hell had she gotten here?

"I'm on your other side, Stephanie." It was Clay.

"Careful! All of you!" Liz called from down below.

"Slowly… the ground isn't solid," Grant warned. They were inching his way. Bit by bit. And he was right. She could feel the earth crumbling and giving way as they moved.

Her right foot slipped. She started to slide down. A scream escaped her.

Both men caught her by the arms, drawing her back up. Grant staggered backward against the cliff, crushing her to him, pressing her forward, ahead of him, then. He turned to give Clay a hand—there was no footing remaining where she had stood. With Grant's hand, Clay made a leap over the gap.

His body crushed against hers as he passed her, putting her between the two of them again. She closed her eyes, still trembling from the close call.

"It's widening… we're almost back on a trail again," Grant said.

She nodded. He was right. In another minute, they were on a trail. Two minutes after that, they were on a broad plateau that slopped gently downward, back toward the area of the dig.

That was when Grant let loose.

Swinging her around before him with barely controlled rage tightening his every muscle, he very nearly barked out his words. "What the hell were you doing?"

She didn't know herself. She was shaking and afraid, and therefore, defensive. And once again, it was slipping into the corner of her mind that it was somehow all his fault.

"You ass! I was looking for you!"

"Against a sheer drop? What the hell did you think—that I'd become part of the rock?"

"Hey, you two," Clay said, coming behind Stephanie.

"You, dammit, get the fuck out of it!" Grant all but roared.

"Grant!" Stephanie exploded, stunned.

Liz had run up to meet them by then. She was obviously upset. "Please, all of you, stop! Let's not say things we don't mean… and, Lord! Let's not get violent, huh? Please?"

"Violent?" Stephanie should have kept silent, but she was still stunned by Grant's display of wrath, and his absolute rudeness and hostility toward Clay, who had risked his life for her as well!

"Actually, Liz, I wouldn't blame Clay if he slammed my very old acquaintance Mr. Peterson from here to China!" she said, staring at Grant.

"No one is decking anyone," Liz said, a prayer that it would be so in her tone. "Grant, please! You're scared because Stephanie could have been killed. You don't understand… it was like pea soup out here for a few minutes… we were all kind of wandering around like idiots. Please, all of you! Stop, think, cool down. I am begging you!"

She was right, and Stephanie knew it, and she didn't want Grant slugging Clay, or Clay slugging Grant.

She lifted a hand. "I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I feel like an idiot. I don't know how I got where I was, except… Liz is right. There was just… a fog. A mist. Something, I don't know. But I'm sorry. Really, really sorry, Grant. And both of you—you did save my. life. Or, at the very least, you saved me from a broken neck and crushed bones. So I thank you both. Liz, can we get back to the car now, please?"

"Yes, yes, let's get back to the car." She slipped an arm around Stephanie's shoulders and shot a glance over her head at Clay. She sounded aggravated herself as she added, "We should never, never have stayed here after dark."

Neither Grant nor Clay said anything as they followed Liz and Stephanie back, so she assumed that, for the moment, neither one of them was going to cream the other.

They all reached Grant's rental car in stony silence and reclaimed the seats they'd taken for the ride in.

No one spoke. Grant revved the car, and they began the drive back.

Stephanie looked out the window and shivered.