"So what are we going to do?" J.C. asked. They were sitting on the couch back at her house. The afterglow of their I-can't-believe-we're-alive-sex had faded into the ivory and gold brocade. They had just finished listening to the tape recording. "Get in touch with the District Attorney's office or the FBI?"

"Either one. Both." Liam slouched down. His polo shirt hung loosely outside his pants. "Whatever we do, though, we've got to make sure that Ned Borden doesn't take a financial bath, even temporarily. You know as well as I do that if the Feds want to do some kind of sting and expose everybody in the land agreement, he'll get pulled into it. Oh, eventually he'll probably get his money back, but the case could be tied up in court indefinitely. And think of all the publicity. It just wouldn't be fair to him."

Liam rested his head against the back of the couch. Less than a half an hour ago, he felt on top of the world. Now he could fall asleep sitting up.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him, even if he started that rumor about us getting married."

Liam brought his head forward and looked at J.C. "Yeah, even if. So what are we going to do?"

J.C. needed only a moment. "Call your sister."

"Call my sister?"

"Yes. It's time we exploited her Music Together connection."

###

Mona Grabner, Becca's friend and managing editor of the Grantham Gazette, picked up after two rings.

She left J.C.'s house three hours later, along with a filled notebook, a duplicate of the tape, and a copy of the numbers that J.C. had put together.

It was two in the morning.

The bloom was long off the rose in J.C.'s cheeks, as was her blusher. "There's going to be hell to pay when the news hits the stands," she announced, nursing a cup of coffee between her hands. She felt cold, very cold, despite the hooded sweatshirt she'd put on over her skimpy outfit.

"I know." Liam nodded. He was sitting in her father's La-Z-Boy. The cup of coffee that J.C. had given him lay untouched on the table. "Seeing as we've exposed one of A&S's founding partners, I think we can safely cross off that firm as a long-term career prospect. And we're not exactly going to endear ourselves to the other Grantham law firms as model team players."

"It could be worse." How, J.C. wasn't quite sure. In one night, she had punctured a major hole in her career and her heart.

Liam slanted her a dubious glance. "You mean we could both get diphtheria?"

"I don't know. Maybe the FBI will put us in the witness protection program. You'll be called Marvin and live in Phoenix, while my new name will be Gertie, and I'll spend the rest of my life being an insurance underwriter in Cleveland." She took a deep breath. "And we'd never see each other again."

He studied J.C.'s face. Despite her joking, her expression was serious. "You really think so?"

J.C. bit her lower lip. "The part about having to go into a witness protection program - not really. About never seeing each other..." She let the words hang.

Liam sat up straight and let the footrest drop to the floor. He had never sat in one of these recliners before and was surprised how comfortable they were.

"Why do you say that? We've probably shot any chance at practicing law locally, but that's not the end of the world. Besides, I think it's time to move on. I came back to Grantham to prove something -- that I could do something to make the family proud. To show that for a change a McDonald doesn't always screw up."

He leaned across the coffee table and rubbed her knee. "So what do you say? You want to try the wilds of Montana with me and Red Dog?"

He noticed his watch. "Speaking of Red Dog, the animal probably doesn't even know who I am anymore. I've had to leave him at Becca's practically fulltime these past few days. I'm sure he feels totally abandoned."

Just like she would feel, J.C. knew. But now was not the time to get all dewy eyed and wish for something that went against all the odds.

"Liam, get real. Can you see me in Montana? Your idea of outdoor activity is a brisk forty-mile hike before breakfast. Mine is to dine al fresco at nine in the evening."

"I can learn to eat later."

J.C. shook her head. "I'm a Jersey girl."

And a fine quality it was. "Maybe you'd learn to love the thrill of white water rafting and camping under the stars?"

"Liam, the only kind of stars I know about are the ones who schmooze with Joan Rivers on the red carpet."

"Well, then, maybe we could live in a city near here? What about Philadelphia? I could learn to run in the park, drink espresso and read InStyle Magazine," Liam offered. He knew he could no more do those things than he could abandon Red Dog to the dog pound.

J.C. put down her coffee cup and wriggled closer to his chair. She touched the side of his face. "It's sweet of you to offer, but you know you couldn't."

Liam clutched her hand in his and turned his face to kiss it. He closed his eyes, afraid that he might cry. "I could change? You could help?"

"Liam, you don't take up with someone in order to change them."

Liam swallowed. They hadn't made any commitments or professed undying vows. So why was this so hard?

Long-term personal relationships had never been his thing. Long-term anything for that matter. He'd been too busy running away. Now he was finally understanding who he was and how he fit into the whole privilege/burden thing of being a McDonald, but this feeling was still too fresh, too untried. Hardly an ideal time to embark on something remotely implying forever.

"But I don't want to lose you," he confessed. It was the truth. And he didn't know what to do about it.

J.C. bit down so hard her lip started bleeding. Just like her heart.

"Liam, we were always too much of a long shot. The truth of the matter is, you never had me to lose."