Strange, Jenny thought, unlocking the front

door. If Fd been much later getting home, I would have found a bunch of dead flowers waiting for me. Somebody goofed at the flower shop.

**Hi, Peach!" Jenny bent down and patted the dog, who'd come to greet her. "Did you see who brought the flowers? Did you bark real loud or did you run and hide?"

Wagging her short tail in circles. Peaches led the way into the kitchen. Jenny poured dry food into the bowl, then walked into the living room, kicking off her sandals as she went.

The answering machine was aglow again: A red number one showed that one person, at least, had tried to call. Jenny pressed the button and stood at the tall windows, frowning out at the bluff.

"Hi, Jenny. It's me again." The same soft, sexy-shy voice. "Did you see the flowers? I hope you like them. They reminded me of you, and I couldn't resist picking them." A short laugh. "I just thought -- I guess couldn't resist picking you, either." There was a pause, then, ahnost as if he was in a hurry, the caller said, "I better go, Jenny. Bye."

She'd almost forgotten. After David's cool attitude and the awful news about Diana, and her own sense of guilt, Jenny had almost forgotten about her secret admirer.

She'd stopped frowning the minute she heard his voice, and now, with what she knew was a silly smile on her face, she hurried out to the porch and brought the basket of flowers inside. Then she rununaged

around in the packing cartons that were still lined up along one wall of the kitchen until she found a tall, cut glass vase. She unrolled it from its wrapping of dishtowels, filled it with water, and put in all the flowers that hadn't completely wilted. She knew they wouldn't last long, but maybe with water they'd have a better chance of making it through the night.

Back in the living room, she set the vase in the middle of the stone mantel over the fireplace and stepped back to look at it. It looked great.

What a nice end to a rotten day. That made it twice now that he'd called and raised her spirits just when they were dragging along the ground. Was he psychic or was his timing just lucky? Jenny spun around and flopped down on the couch, still grinning. Almost immediately she hopped up and played the tape again, hoping for some clue that would let her in on the boy's identity.

It couldn't be David, or Dean. Or Brad, either, she thought. David had been so distant, and Dean wasn't the shy computer freak she'd thought he was. Nobody who could make a wink look that suggestive would bother with anonymous phone calls. And if it was Brad, then Brad had a problem. To be so angry that he'd come close to hitting her and then to turn right around and compare her to a bunch of beautiful wildflowers was an awfully twisted thing to do. Besides, she'd gotten the first call before Diana's accident. So if it was Brad, he