How anyone could take Leigh for granted was beyond John. He was already so shaken with adoration by their first date he believed he was in love. Well, maybe not love. But boy, he was in something. He almost had to sit on his hands at the bar to keep from fondling her. He knew he was going to love the way her skin felt, smelled, tasted.

For starters, the very sound of her voice sent him drifting; he loved her voice. Her skin was clear and fair, her eyes sparkled and her laugh was like music. He was falling.

“If you knew my father and how like him I am,” Leigh had gone on, “you would know what utter chaos our marriage really was. My mother predicted long ago that Max wouldn’t favor our marriage with even a cursory glance and it would simply disappear. Mother, you see, is not like my father. She is an absolute rock with great common sense. She was the anchor in the raging sea that was my father’s enormous intelligence. She’s very intelligent, but not in the showy, extreme way my father was. She always knew the best thing for me would be an anchor, not a sail. She advised me not to marry someone so like my father, but I didn’t listen.”

John had given her a bewildering frown and ordered another beer, letting her talk, intrigued by her expensive vocabulary. Then they had necked in his truck after drinks, indulging in kisses that were long, wet and the most exhilarating he had ever known. And he had known a few.

John had often pondered the whole concept of the physical chemistry between a man and a woman. It was like the meshing of fine gears, like waxing skis or tuning up a Porsche…and he said so. “What a great match of taste, texture, smell,” he had said.

“Pheromones,” she had replied.

John had more fun exploring the phenomenon than discussing it and closed her mouth with his. Whether it was pheromones or dumb luck, it could grab you by the neck and drag you across the room. That was how it had been with Leigh from the start, as it had never been with any other woman, ever. Though she was beautiful, it hadn’t been her picture-perfect looks that had drawn him closer. In fact, he liked beauty but hated vanity. Leigh, he learned right away, didn’t put much stock in her appearance. He had wanted her instantly; he wanted her still.

Jess never did know that Leigh was seeing a man in Durango. With the Sierra Club as a cover, Leigh could disappear for “hikes,” “trail rides” and “camping trips” that took days. It was the closest thing to paradise John had ever experienced. But, he wondered, didn’t Jess suspect something?