Sail Away
By - Valerie Jones

R - Harm and Mac go undercover on the reality t.v.
show "Temptation Cruise II". It's not as silly as it
sounds :-)


********************************************

Chapter 1

Admiral A.J. Chegwidden looked up at the knock on his
office door. Gunny stepped inside a moment later,
followed by a man the Admiral didn't know. He was tall
and thin, with sandy blond hair that fell in thin
wisps to below his collar. His eyes were pale and
blue, their intensity hidden behind large framed
glasses that were conspicuously ten years out of date.
The man's dress was more casual than A.J. was used to
seeing-- casual pants and a black t-shirt. Most
civilians dressed up when they came to visit an
Admiral in the United States Navy.

Gunny came to attention. "Admiral, Daniel Steiner is
here to see you, sir."

So that was who he was. A.J. fought to keep the
revulsion off his face. He did not stand to greet his
guest. "Thank you, Gunny."

Gunny left, and A.J. waved his visitor to the chairs
fronting his desk. "Please have a seat Mr. Steiner.
I'll be with you in a moment." He returned his
attention to the paperwork in front of him. He
scribbled a few more lines before putting the papers
aside.

When he looked up, he found Steiner slouched in his
chair, watching him appraisingly.

"Now, Mr. Steiner, what can the Judge Advocate
General's office do for you?"

Steiner's gaze didn't waver. "Since your boss called
me, I was expecting you'd already know."

Unfortunately, A.J. did. The Navy needed some damage
control and had come to him to make it happen. The
sheer humiliation of what his superiors were asking,
however, made the orders hard to swallow.

Steiner rolled his head around, eliciting a loud pop
from one of his vertebrae. He grinned at the Admiral.
"So, do you have investigators for me or not?"

A.J. nodded reluctantly. He touched his intercom.
"Lieutenant Tiner! Tell Commander Rabb and Colonel
MacKenzie I want to see them asap."

"Which one's the woman?" Steiner wanted to know.

A.J. didn't answer. A few moments later, the two
officers walked in. They came to attention in front of
his desk, their gazes locked straight ahead, their
faces impassive. Neither one showed the least
curiosity about the Admiral's visitor. Anything less
would have earned them a rebuke from their superior.

Steiner took one look at the pair and jumped to his
feet. "Wow. Now this I can work with." He turned and
walked off to Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie's side,
studying her with avid, almost lascivious, interest.
"Sexbomb city." He grinned at A.J. "Slick the hair
back and put her in a bikini… baby." He turned his
attention to Commander Rabb. "He's not bad either.
Tall, dark and handsome always goes over well.
Especially if there's a sixpack under that uniform."
He gestured toward the commander's midriff.

A.J. fought to keep his face expressionless. The eyes
of his two officers were rolling in anger and
indignation, though neither one moved an inch. 

Finally, Steiner seemed to register the stiff
attention of the officers. He gave A.J. a quizzical
look. "How long are they just going to stand there
like that?"

"Until I say otherwise," the Admiral answered. Steiner
could use a demonstration of military discipline.

Steiner remained doubtful. "If you say so. I really
need to hear voices sometime, though. I mean, I can
work with the bodies. No sweat there. But, if the
voices suck…" He rolled his eyes. "This is reality
t.v. We can't do voice-overs."

A.J. let it go for a little while longer. The silence
in his office grew heavy. Finally, he looked at his
officers. "Be seated, Commander, Colonel."

Like statues come to life, the two took deep breaths
in unison. "Yes, sir." 

Then, ritual complete, they became the people A.J.
knew as friends as well as subordinates. The two
settled in their chairs as Mac whipped around to stare
venomously at Steiner. 

"Sir, who in the world is this-- this--" 

"Cretin?" Harm supplied mildly.

"Cretin." Mac looked at A.J. "And what business does
he have with JAG?"

Steiner did not look the least put off by the insult.
He smiled ingratiatingly. "I'm Daniel Steiner,
executive producer of Temptation Cruise."

At their blank looks, his smile faded a notch.
"Temptation Cruise? It's only the highest rated show
in prime time for the past season." The blank stares
didn't change. Steiner became indignant. "Don't you
people watch t.v.?"

Harm and Mac looked at each other. 

"You don't mean that show where they stick a bunch of
newlywed couples on a boat for six weeks and have the
crew try to entice them into cheating on each other?"
Harm asked.

Steiner beamed. "That's the one." 

Mac stared aghast at the producer. "How horrible!"

Harm's expression turned thoughtful. He turned to the
Admiral. "This is about that rape case."

A.J. nodded, and the atmosphere in the office
immediately turned businesslike. "Yes. A contestant on
Mr. Steiner's t.v. show claimed she was raped by two
of the ship's crew members to keep her and her husband
from winning the million-dollar prize. Unfortunately,
both of the accused are Naval reservists."

"I suppose that explains JAG's interest," Mac said.
She eyed Steiner as if he were a particularly hideous
variety of spider she'd spotted on her living room
wall. "Is the case going to be tried under military
jurisdiction?"

A.J. shook his head. "No. It'll be tried in civilian
court."

"So how are we involved, sir?"

A.J. steeled himself. "The reservists claim they were
acting on the instructions of the show's director, a
Tony Ariel. They agreed to… ahem, take advantage of
the young lady, but deny the rape charge. They say she
was flirting heavily with both of them and that the
incident was consensual." He shrugged, uncomfortable.
"I don’t need to tell you how much bad publicity this
is generating for the Navy. But, if the reservists
claim about Mr. Ariel is true, it could be useful as a
means of deflecting the attention away from the U.S.
military."

"Not to mention that it'll look good for you folks to
have been involved in the investigation," added
Steiner.

At the word "investigation", Harm and Mac exchanged
worried looks.

"Sir, you aren't suggesting that Commander Rabb and
I…?" Mac trailed off uncertainly.

A.J. nodded. "Unfortunately, I am, Colonel. You and
Commander Rabb are going to go undercover to
investigate the truth of these allegations about Mr.
Ariel. Temptation Cruise II will begin filming in
approximately three months. You two will be
contestants." He paused. "Providing Mr. Steiner
approves, of course."

Steiner grinned his irritating grin. "I like what I've
seen so far." He transferred his smile to Harm and
Mac. "All I need now is proof that these two can pass
for newlyweds and I'll sign off." 

A.J. knew Steiner had been adamant in his refusal to
let his show be "tainted" by the investigation of his
director. Though he professed to be furious over the
possibility that Ariel had rigged the results of the
show, he also insisted that only "real talent" be
allowed onto the sequel, lest the ratings suffer. It
had taken quite a bit of pressure from high up in the
Navy to gain his grudging agreement to assess the JAG
investigators. A.J. knew how important it could be to
the Navy's reputation to be an integral part of this
investigation. He also knew he was putting his
officers in a particularly difficult situation. He
folded his hands on the desk in front of him,
projecting calm as best he could.

"What would satisfy you, Mr. Steiner?" he asked.

Steiner shrugged. "A kiss, to start with. Let's see if
there's any kind of chemistry." 

Harm and Mac both stared at him, their gazes owlish.

Steiner's voice turned harsh. "Well? This is just a
screen test. If you can't do this, you'll never make
it on the show." He transferred his attention to Harm.
"Put some heat into it, Commander. Forty million
viewers are going to be dissecting every move you two
make. If you can't convince me, you'll never convince
them." He sat back, arms crossed.

After a moment, Harm shook himself out of his stupor
and turned to A.J. "Sir?" His expression fell
somewhere between bewildered and amused.

The Admiral spread his hands. "This falls under the
auspices of an undercover investigation, Commander.
Fraternization regs don't apply. You have my
permission."

A hint of mischief crept into the other man's eyes.
"Yes, sir."

Turning in his seat, Harm leaned across the distance
separating him from Mac. Smiling ever so slightly, he
cupped her cheek in one hand and kissed her. Rather
thoroughly, A.J. thought. Mac's fingers tightened on
the arms of her chair until the knuckles turned white,
but she sank into the kiss as if she'd never wanted
anything else in her life.

Outside the unshuttered windows flanking the Admiral's
door, the hubbub of the JAG office came to a
standstill as the members of the staff turned to stare
at the unprecedented sight. A.J. bit his lip against a
laugh as a pile of papers cascaded unnoticed out of
Harriet's fingers. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' of
surprise.

Sometime later, Harm and Mac separated. Their eyes
lingered on each other for a bare moment before Mac
looked away, ducking her head with unusual shyness for
the outspoken Marine. 

Harm cleared his throat, his discomfort well hidden.
"Good enough?" he asked Steiner. A.J. admired the
even, unconcerned air he projected. Harm still carried
his naval aviator's cool, which served him well both
in and out of the courtroom.

Steiner applauded lightly. "Bravo." He smiled at the
Admiral. "They'll do."

Harm turned to A.J., his face impassive. "Is that all,
sir?" The question carried a tremendous weight of
disapproval in its stiffly formal tones.

A.J. turned the question over to his guest, who
nodded. 

"I'll have my assistant send over all the paperwork
and a rough draft of the schedule. You'll be expected
to make appearances with the rest of the contestants,
as well as do the photo shoots and advance
interviews," Steiner said.

A.J. noted that his officers looked like they'd rather
be boiled in oil and decided to end the appointment as
quickly as possible. All the parties had agreed, so
there was no point in prolonging their exposure to
each other. That only increased the risk of something
going wrong.

The Admiral dismissed Harm and Mac. Looking relieved,
the two rose and came to attention before exiting the
office. A.J. saw them exchange eloquently helpless
looks before each went to their own office. Neither
one acknowledged the curious stares of the other staff
members.

All in all, A.J. pitied them.


Chapter 2

Seated on the arm of his couch, Harm watched with
amused sympathy as Mac paced the small confines of the
living room. He always enjoyed watching Mac when she
got really riled about something. Right now, she paced
back and forth with frantic strides, her head down and
her hands hooked into claws at her sides. He wondered
if she were envisioning throttling Daniel Steiner. The
occasional muttered comment he could hear seemed to
point in that direction.

"Look at the bright side, Mac," he offered. "We get to
spend six weeks on a cruise ship in the Caribbean.
When would either of us ever get to take a six-week
vacation?"

Mac paused to glare at him. "Traitor."

Harm chuckled and held up his hands. "Hey. I don't
like it, either. I'm just trying to be positive."

"You aren't the one he was mentally undressing."

Harm grinned. "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Mac ignored him. "Have you watched any of the episodes
yet? The show is absolutely disgusting. It's morally
reprehensible, degrading to women, and-- and-- just
plain tasteless!" She stopped short to stare at Harm.
"Why aren't you upset about this assignment? Don't
tell me you actually want to be involved in this
cockamamie scheme?"

"Not really, but I don't have much choice." This time,
there was no humor in his voice. Mac could get very
aggressive when she felt threatened, something he had
little patience for.

Mac's tirade ended with a long-suffering sigh. She
reached up to massage her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry.
I'm just so angry…"

"Why, Mac? Because it rubs salt in old wounds?" It had
been a while since Mic, since Renee, and since the
near-miss conversation that might have changed their
lives forever. 

She nodded without looking at him. "That, and because
I don't like the idea of pretending with you." Her
gaze darted to his, then away. "We're best friends.
We're honest with each other. That's important to me."

And playing at being in love for the next few months
is going to blur the lines beyond recognition. He
sighed. He, too, feared their new assignment would
only make things worse between them.

"Come here, Mac." He held his arms open.

For a moment, he thought she might refuse. But then
she came to him and wrapped her arms around his neck,
laying her cheek on his shoulder. Harm held her close.

"We'll always be friends, Mac. No matter what."

He could feel her smile against his shoulder. "I'm
going to hold you to that, sailor."

#

A few days later, Harm and Mac once again found
themselves in the Admiral's office with Daniel Steiner
and a tall, perky blond woman who reminded Harm just a
bit too much of Renee for comfort. She was Steiner's
assistant, but other than handing out papers and
distracting the male members of the JAG staff from
their duties, she seemed to serve little purpose.

Harm scanned the sheets he'd been handed while keeping
his ears tuned to the Admiral.

"Your cover identities will be modeled as much after
reality as possible," Chegwidden was saying, "to avoid
any possible mistakes or conflicts in your stories.
You, Commander, will be Harmon Ray, a partner at a
small D.C. law firm. The Colonel will be Sarah
McPherson, also a partner at the same firm. Your
personal histories should remain as close to reality
as possible, editing out all references to military
service or undercover investigations."

Mac looked up before Harm. "Mitchell, Bloomberg,
Moore?" she asked, noting the name of the law firm
they supposedly worked for. 

Harm nodded to himself as the name registered in his
memory. "Isn't that where Commander Bailey went after
he retired from JAG?" Bailey had left JAG several
years before Harm's arrival, but his exploits in the
courtroom were still talked about.

The Admiral nodded. "Yes. He's the senior partner
there. He has agreed to let us use his firm for a
cover. Your respective aliases will be on the books at
MBM within the next few days."

Harm shot his partner a sideways glance, but her face
remained impassive. She was all business. He tried to
match her. It was the safest choice.

Steiner sat forward, hands clasped together. "These
covers will play beautifully on the show, particularly
with Tony." He was a serious as Harm had yet seen. "If
he is fixing the results-- and I'll personally rip his
throat out if he is-- he'll be sure to pick some other
couple to win." The smarmy grin appeared for a moment.
"After all, who wants a couple of lawyers to get the
prize?"

Before either litigator could respond, he went on.
"So, as long as you two can stay on the straight and
narrow, he'll eventually be forced to take matters
into his own hands to get you out of the running."

Harm stifled a groan. The plan was sound, but that
meant they had little hope of getting off the show
before the entire six weeks were over. 

"So when does all this start?" he asked instead.

The blond assistant hopped up to hand each of them
another piece of paper.

"Here's the tentative schedule," Steiner told them.
"The first real event will be the
meet-the-other-contestants dinner in two weeks. It's
an informal affair-- no reporters or cameras allowed.
Besides ours, of course. You'll both need to do a
costume fitting in the next few days so wardrobe can
have something for you by then. And you'll have to
have your contestant packets filled out by then as
well."

The assistant plucked two thick document envelopes
from the stack of papers beside her and held them out
toward Harm and Mac.

"I'll take those," Admiral Chegwidden said, reaching
across his desk. The assistant handed them over. "You
two have more important things to do, like wrapping up
your caseloads. I'll get someone else to fill these
out." 

Harm was still thinking about the dinner. A thought
struck him. "Should Mac wear an engagement ring?"

Mac turned to him in surprise as Steiner frowned. "We
don't provide rings and such, assuming all of our
couples intended to get married anyway. You'll have to
take care of that yourselves."

Mac smoothed her skirt, a nervous gesture. "That's all
right. I… have a ring I can use."

Harm winced. He couldn't help it. If Mac noticed, she
gave no sign, and Harm was forced to wonder once more
if she had really gotten over Brumby. After all, he'd
left her, not the other way around.

Steiner continued, giving no indication that he’d
noticed Harm's reaction. "Going back to the schedule…
After the dinner come the early photo shoots-- People,
Cosmo, and Teen Beat all want spreads to go with their
articles. Cosmo also wants one of the ladies for their
cover, though they won't decide who until after the
first shoot." He winked at Mac. "I'd say you're
probably going to be in the running, Colonel."

"What? Me?" 

Harm pushed his thoughts aside and studied his
partner. Was that a flush creeping up her cheeks? Mac
didn't blush easily.

Steiner didn't pause. "The television spots won't
happen until later, after the advertising campaign
really kicks in. You'll do the filming for the ads
sometime early next month, but the Tonight Show and
Letterman spots won't happen until a week or two
before you board."

Harm's thoughts had begun to spin. He wondered if he
looked as dazed as he felt. It was Mac, however, that
best expressed his sentiments. She looked imploringly
at the Admiral. 

"Sir, you realize that after this, no one is ever
going to take us seriously again."


Chapter 3

"I can't believe you two are going to be on t.v."
Harriet split her grin between Harm and Mac. "It's
kind of exciting."

"For them, maybe," Bud said with a grimace. "Commander
Turner and I are the ones who get to pick up their
caseloads." He indicated the commander with a wave of
his coffee cup.

Sturgis only shrugged, his familiar, laconic smile in
place. "Oh, I don't mind so much, Lieutenant." He shot
Harm a sly look. "It'll be well worth it to watch
these two making fools of themselves."

"Gee, thanks, Sturg." Harm rolled his eyes. 

The five JAG officers were gathered around the coffee
machine in the common morning ritual. Mac stood with
her coworkers but felt worlds removed from the
lighthearted banter. She could understand the others'
teasing, but not Harm's easy acceptance of it all. How
could he take it so lightly? Didn't this assignment
jangle that raw nerve running through their
relationship? 

"Commander, that's not very nice," Harriet scolded
Sturgis. Mac snapped back to the present.

Sturgis grinned hugely. "Maybe so, Lieutenant, but I'm
not the one who volunteered to host the Temptation
Cruise parties at my house, either."

Harriet blushed scarlet. Harm laughed. "He's got you
there," he told Harriet.

Angered and quietly humiliated by the exchange, Mac
turned away. She headed toward her office with brisk
strides.

"Mac?" Harm asked from behind her. She could hear the
sudden concern in his voice.

"I have work to do," she told him without turning.

#

"What was that about?" Sturgis asked as Mac walked
into her office and shut the door.

Harm sighed resignedly. "She's a little upset about
this assignment. I can't say that I blame her."

"Hmm." Sturgis met Harm's eyes, his gaze piercing.
"That wouldn't have anything to do with this thing
between you two, would it?"

Harm was vaguely aware of Bud and Harriet exchanging
uncomfortable looks, but most of his attention was
riveted to his friend.

"There is no 'thing' between us, Sturgis." Harm
sometimes wondered if it was bitterness or relief he
felt every time he made the protest. "We're just
friends."

Sturgis gave him an enigmatic smile. "Maybe that's why
she's so upset about the assignment." He raised his
coffee mug in salute and turned away.

Harm could only shake his head. 

"Sir," Harriet said after a moment, her voice
uncertain. "I'm not in any position to comment on your
relationship with Colonel MacKenzie…"

Harm raised an eyebrow, smiling despite himself.
"But…?"

Harriet dropped her gaze, abashed. Then she raised her
head, her expression determined. "But, sir, she does
seem to be taking this all very seriously." She made a
vague gesture. "The rest of us are making a joke out
of it because it's almost too absurd to believe, but
Colonel MacKenzie doesn't take jokes very well. At
least, not when they're on her."

Harm inclined his head, impressed by her assessment.
"That's pretty insightful, Harriet. Thanks. I'll have
to keep it in mind."

Harriet's smile lit her face. "You're welcome, sir."

#


Mac looked up with some trepidation when Harm walked
into her office. He dropped into a chair, squirming to
find a comfortable position. The standard hard wood
chairs had not been designed to fit Harm's six plus
feet. 

He gave her a cheerful smile. "How's it going, dear?"

Mac blinked at him. "Did you just call me dear?"

The blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "Would you
prefer 'honey'? Sweetie? Sugar?"

Mac rested her elbows on her desk and held her pen in
both hands, staring at him over the top. "Harm, what
is going on?"

"I'm trying to come up with a pet name for you." His
grin was utterly guileless. "Couples have special
names for each other, right? It occurred to me that we
ought to be getting some of these little details
organized. So, what would you like? Babe? Sweetums?"

"Oh, please." Mac knew he was turning on that little
boy charm to try to cajole her out of being mad.
Unfortunately, it was working. "You're crazy, you
know."

He slouched a little further in the too-small chair.
"Mac, that the only way we're going to survive this
assignment without going stark, raving mad is to laugh
our way through it." Those blue eyes bored into her,
deep and serious. But then the glint of humor
returned. "How about 'Snookers'? Sugar plum? Poopsie?"

"Poopsie?" A chuckle escaped her. "Be glad I'm not
armed, sailor." She had to admit he had a point. It
was kind of funny, if you looked at it a certain way.
And ignored the dull, constant heartache, of course.

Taking a deep breath, Mac decided to join in on the
fun. "Do I get to pick a name for you, too?"

Harm shrugged. "Sure. You're still not giving me any
clues here, though. How does 'Shortcake' grab you?"

"I could call you Stud Muffin." 

His grin deepened. "Boo Boo?"

"Rocketman."

"Babelicious?"

"Honey Bucket of Luv."

Harm burst out laughing. Mac joined him.

"O.k. Maybe the pet name idea wasn't such a good one,"
Harm admitted as he climbed to his feet. "But at least
I got you to laugh."

Mac accepted that with as much grace as she could
muster. "That you did." Her intrinsic honesty wouldn't
let her leave it at that. "Thanks," she added.

"You're welcome." Harm turned toward the door. "Well,
see you later, lovebug."

"Harm!"

He walk out of the office, chortling. Tossing her pen
down on the desk in front of her, Mac sank back into
her chair, grinning and shaking her head.



Chapter 4

Harm and Mac went to the wardrobe fitting together.
Dressed in civilian business attire as if they'd just
come from the office, they approached the nondescript
building with an equal sense of unease. It was
Showtime. Well, at least the dress rehearsal.

Mac paused a few feet from the car and looked at her
partner. "Do you think we should hold hands?"

She was gratified to see that Harm looked as
uncomfortable as she felt. "Yeah, probably." He
offered his hand with a lopsided smile. Mac took it,
then tried to keep her reaction from showing as his
fingers twined with hers. It wasn't as if she'd never
held his hand before. But this wasn't a friend
offering affection and support. This was a possessive
gesture that said, We're together.

They had only taken a couple of steps before they
discovered a problem. Mac's hand had ended up in
front. With the difference in their heights it made
for an uncomfortable and unwieldy arrangement. They
had to pause to rearrange, which, with the current
level of nervousness turned out to be more difficult
than they might have imagined.

"Here, Mac, like this."

"No, my hand needs to be on the other--"

"If you do that, we're going to be back where we
started."

"No we're not."

"See, like this--"

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

They finally got it straightened out.

"A couple of twelve-year-olds could have done this
better," Mac growled as they once again set off toward
the building. 

Harm released her to open the door, then held it for
her to enter. It was a common courtesy in the
military, one that Mac rarely noticed.

The woman waiting just inside, however, did. "I see
there are still some true gentlemen in the world," she
commented as they entered. She was an inch or two
taller than Mac, a stunning beauty with dark hair and
skin, and an exotic lilt to her words. She smiled
blindingly at Harm, who returned the smile with one of
his own.

Mac quickly slipped her hand back into Harm's. "We're
here for the one o'clock fitting," she said, meeting
the woman's eyes and holding them.

Smiling faintly, the woman nodded. "You must be Mr.
Ray and Ms. McPherson. Hi, I'm Selena." She shook
hands with each of them. "I'll be your coordinator for
the duration of the show. My job is to guide through
each step of the production process. If you need
anything, let me know. I will be available at any time
to answer questions." She paused for a moment, but
when neither of them spoke, she continued, "Now, if
you'll both come with me, I'll take you back to the
studio."

Mac and Harm fell in behind Selena as she led them
through a set of glass doors and into a business area.
Offices sprouted to either side of the hall, which was
painted in odd shades of green. Beyond the offices,
they emerged into a large room divided up by movable
partitions and curtains. Mac spotted several tall
mirrors in rolling frames as well as what looked like
a huge auto mechanic's tool box piled high with sewing
paraphernalia. 

A man and a woman waited for them. The man could have
leapt from the pages of GQ, Mac thought. He was of
middle height, slender, and dressed all in black. His
hair was cut short, dyed blond, and stuck out
stylishly in all directions. He even wore a nose ring
in addition to multiple earrings.

"Mr. Ray, this is Toby, your fashion consultant."
Selena introduced the man, who grinned and waved.

She turned to the woman. "This is Ellen. Ellen, meet
Ms. McPherson." Ellen was Toby's opposite in every
way. Short, frumpy and middle-aged, she gave Mac a
motherly smile as Selena introduced them. 

"I'll trade with you," Harm murmured to Mac as they
finished the necessary pleasantries. "I'd feel a lot
safer with yours."

Mac grinned at him. "Wimp."

Then her humor died. The two fashion consultants
obviously expected the couple to split and accompany
each of them to different parts of the room. Mac
looked up at Harm, her stomach knotting. A parting
kiss was in order, wasn't it?

Harm seemed to be thinking the same thing. He bent
toward her.

Mind racing, Mac tried to meet him. Unfortunately, she
turned her head the same direction as his and they
nearly collided.

"Oops."

"Uh…"

They both back off and tried to reorient themselves.
We must look like fools. Mac felt a flush of warmth
rising in her cheeks. 

"Let's try that again…"

After a couple of jerky false starts, they managed a
passable kiss.

"I think we're going to have to practice if we're
going to pull this off," Harm muttered into her hair
as they separated. Mac had to agree, frightening as
the thought was.

They parted ways with a sense of relief. Mac followed
Ellen into a little cubby surrounded by curtains.
There were no chairs, so she stood near the center of
the space, arms crossed.

Ellen busied herself at a smaller wheeled toolbox like
the one Mac had seen, but eventually she turned.

"Nervous, dearie?"

Mac dropped her hands to her sides self-consciously.
"Yeah. I guess. And my name's Sarah."

Ellen walked over to her, trailing an armful of cloth
and measuring tape. "Well, Sarah, you don't have
anything to worry about. You're quite beautiful. We're
just going to give you a wardrobe to do justice to
that lovely face."

Mac stared at her, bemused. "O.k." She hadn't had many
women tell her she was beautiful. 

Ellen took Mac by the elbow and steered her to a spot
on the floor. "Now, take off those shoes and stand
straight for me, feet together."

Mac did so, settling into the attention position her
body was familiar with.

Ellen bustled about, taking measurements. "You have
very good posture, Sarah." She poked Mac gently
between the shoulder blades. "Relax a little, dearie.
You're not a soldier."

Mac bit her lip against a smile and wondered how Harm
was fairing.

#

Toby, Harm soon discovered, chattered incessantly as
he worked.

"So, how long have you two known each other?" Toby
asked at the end of a string of bland personal
questions.

"Oh, about six years." Harm kept his voice casual and
tried not to fidget. He was not ready to be grilled
about their cover story.

"And it took this long to tie the knot?" Toby knelt to
measure Harm's inseam.

"We work together." Harm wondered if the Admiral had
any idea what kind of torture he was putting his
officers through. "It's kind of complicated."

"I noticed she's not wearing a ring."

Uh oh. Harm scrambled for an answer. "Well, this
cruise thing came up a little unexpectedly--" He
decided he had to qualify the statement. "I mean, we
didn't really expect to get picked."

Toby whipped through another set of measurements. Harm
didn't understand how he could possibly get accurate
information at that speed. "So you haven't really
popped the question yet."

Harm was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment.
"Uh, no. Not exactly." We are really going to have to
get on this. The contestants' dinner is only a week
away! He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to
stand seeing Mac wear Brumby's ring all the time,
though.

Toby grinned at him. "Well, better get on it. Just
'cause she knows she's gonna say yes doesn't mean she
won't want the full production."

Harm stared into the distance an idea blossomed in his
mind. Mac might very well kill him, but… He chuckled
to himself. Why not? This wasn't reality. What did he
have to lose?

He nodded. "Thanks, Toby."

"Sure thing, man." 

#

When they returned to the car, Harm and Mac simply sat
for a moment, each staring straight ahead, lost in
their own thoughts.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Harm
commented after a while.

Mac didn't dare turn to look at his face. "Yeah," she
agreed. 

There was an awkward silence.

"You're right about practice," Mac said finally. "I
hadn't realized how many little details people work
out when they're in a relationship together."

"Like how to hold hands?" Harm shot her a sly smile.

"And how to kiss." Mac returned the shot. Their eyes
met and held, filled with mutual understanding. They
could both feel compassion for the difficult position
the other was in.

Taking a deep breath, Mac forged ahead. "As you know,
we're supposed to have dinner with Bud and Harriet
tonight." It was something they did regularly, as much
to spend time with little A.J. as anything else.

"Uh huh."

"It would be a good opportunity to… you know…
practice."

The mischievous twinkle had returned to Harm's eyes.
"Uh huh."

"Anyway, I'm sure Bud and Harriet will understand.
They're not the teasing type. In fact, since they're
married, they might be able to give us some pointers.
I think--"

"Mac." Harm cut her off.

"What?" 

His smile was gentle. "It's o.k."

Mac gave him an odd look. He was being reassuring,
which made her nervous when she didn't know why. "Of
course it's o.k. Why wouldn't it be?"

Harm just chuckled. "Pick you up at six?"

#

The first thing Bud Roberts noticed when he opened his
front door was the arm Commander Rabb had
companionably draped across Colonel MacKenzie's
shoulders. The commander grinned cheerfully.

"Good evening, Bud."

Covering his surprise, Bud took a step back to let
them in. "Good evening, sir, ma'am. Come in."

"We're not in uniform, Bud."

"I know, sir."

Colonel MacKenzie walked into the house first, her
hands raised. "O.k., before this evening goes any
further, we're going to have to apologize for our
bizarre behavior."

"Ma'am?" Bud asked.

The Colonel didn't reply as a tiny dervish raced up
and threw himself into her arms. "Auntie Mac!" She
swept him up in a hug.

Bud mentally shook his head. No matter how many times
they told him the Colonel's name was Sarah, he still
called her Mac. But then, Harm called her Mac, which
was all the reason A.J. needed.

"Hey, sport!" Harm tossed A.J. into the air when it
was his turn to greet the little boy. A.J. giggled
wildly as Harm set him down.

"Come play airp'anes wit' me!" A.J. held the
commander's big hand in both of his and tried to drag
him bodily toward the back of the house.

"Later, sport," Harm promised with a smile. Bud took
the hint and shooed his son off to play on his own for
a while.

"Bizarre behavior, ma'am?" he asked once A.J. was
gone.

As if in response, Commander Rabb stepped up behind
Colonel MacKenzie, slipping both arms around her
waist. After a moment, she crossed her arms over his,
fingers curling around his forearms. Her expression
dared Bud to state the obvious.

Bud stared at them for a moment as his whirling
thoughts coalesced. "Uh, since I know neither one of
you would ever violate regulations, I suppose there's
another explanation?" Bud was proud of himself for
managing that with straight face.

Commander Rabb chuckled. "Yep. It's called an
undercover investigation that Mac and I both need some
practice getting into character for."

Harriet came around the corner from the kitchen just
then, wiping her hands on a towel. "Hello, Commander,
Colonel." She took one good look at them and came to
an abrupt halt. "Oh!"

"Hi, Harriet," the two said in unison. Commander Rabb
quickly repeated his explanation.

Harriet took it all in stride, which was one of the
reasons Bud loved her so much. "Well," she said
thoughtfully, "We'd be happy to help in any way we
can, of course. I'll do my best to provide
constructive feedback, and I'm sure Bud will, too."

Bud wasn't so sure he liked that idea, but didn't
contradict her. 

"Do you want to help me in the kitchen, Colonel?"
Harriet inclined her head that direction.

The colonel smiled. "Only if you call me Sarah."

Harriet grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

It was a little disconcerting to watch Colonel
MacKenzie reach up to kiss the commander on the cheek
before she went off with Harriet. Nonetheless,
Commander Rabb looked like he enjoyed it. His gaze
followed her as she walked away, lingering long after
she'd disappeared around the corner.

"Beer, sir?" Bud was totally willing to avoid the
topic of Colonel MacKenzie and any relationship the
two might have. One, it wasn't any of his business,
and two, what he didn't know he could never be forced
to testify about.

"My name is Harm, Bud."

Bud grinned. "Yes, sir. I'll be right back with that
beer, sir. Make yourself comfortable."

Harm's resigned sigh followed him out of the room. 

When he returned, the two men talked of
inconsequential things until Harriet called them to
dinner. Even that passed uneventfully, with little
sign of roleplaying between the two JAG officers.

Later, however, while Bud was in the kitchen slicing
the pie, Harriet stuck her head around the corner and
held a finger to her lips. "Honey, you've just got to
see this," she whispered, crooking her finger at him.

Curious, Bud followed her out to the edge of the hall
leading into the living room. Grinning impishly,
Harriet pointed in the proper direction then made room
for Bud to peek around the corner. She joined him as
he did so, leaning against his shoulder to peer around
with him.

Bud had to smile. Commander Rabb was sitting in the
easy chair with Colonel MacKenzie perched comfortably
on his knee. She held their wineglasses and watched
with a tolerant smile as the commander played at
dogfighting with A.J. The toy airplanes whirled and
dove across the broad arm of the chair. From the
volume of shooting noises and explosions, Bud could
tell the battle had been going on for a while. A.J.
always got louder over time.

"Aren't they adorable?" Harriet whispered to him as
they crept back toward the kitchen. At his nod, her
expression turned mournful. "I really wish there was
something we could do to help. They're so perfect for
each other."

"There is." Bud decided he needed to nip this one
early. "We can help by not interfering."

"Aw," Harriet gave him her trademarked pout. "Where's
the fun in that?"

"Harriet--"

"I know, Bud. I know." She sighed, squaring her
shoulders. "Well, maybe they'll stumble into it
anyway. They've still got a long way to go."


Chapter 5

Mac walked into the office Thursday morning feeling
better than she had in a while. After what had turned
out to be a very nice dinner with Bud and Harriet and
a couple of days later a "date" with Harm that had
involved a movie and lot of light-hearted PDA, she was
beginning to think they just might make it through the
ordeal unscathed. Harm was right. All they had to do
was to not take it all too seriously.

To her surprise, she noted a bouquet of pink roses on
Gunnery Sergeant Galindez's desk. Galindez was bent
over some paperwork, oblivious to her approach.

"Nice roses, Gunny."

He looked up with a start, then stood. "Good morning,
Colonel. Actually, the roses are for you. They arrived
about ten minutes ago."

Mac tried to hide her sudden burst of excitement.
"Really? I wonder who they're from." She took a second
look at the bouquet. There were a dozen long stemmed
pink roses, professionally displayed with bits of fern
and baby's breath. The vase was tied with pink bow. It
was a little… girly for Mac's taste. But it was nice.

"There's a card, ma'am." Gunny picked the vase up
carefully. "I'll carry them into your office if you'd
like."

Since her arms were already full, Mac nodded. "Thank
you, Gunny."

Once Mac was alone in her office, she plucked the card
from its plastic holder. With eager fingers she opened
the envelope and extracted the card. The plain piece
of paper had nothing on it but the letter 'A'.

"A?" Mac looked around the office in consternation.
"Who the heck is A?"

#

On her way back from the coffee station, Mac ran into
Gunny. He was holding a bouquet of yellow roses in a
vase. Mac stopped in her tracks.

"You're kidding. For me?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'll put them in your office."

Mac trailed him, intensely curious. This time she
didn't wait for privacy before opening the card. She
noted absently that it had been sent from a different
florist than the pinks. On the card was written a
letter 'M'.

Once again Mac looked around her office as if she
might find the answer written on the walls. "What in
the world?"

#

By the time the third bouquet arrived, word of her
roses had spread, so Mac had an audience when she
opened the card. These had come from a third florist.
This dozen were a pale lavender, interspersed with
tiny yellow flowers. Mac took a deep breath of their
sweet scent to ward off the excited queasiness in her
stomach before opening the card.

It was an 'R'.

Sturgis grinned at her. "Well, if the next one's an
'H' we'll know who the culprit is."

Mac just looked at him. "Why in the world would
Commander Rabb send me three-- excuse me-- four dozen
roses?"

Sturgis shrugged. 

"Where is the commander, anyway?" Admiral Chegwidden
wanted to know.

"In court, sir." Mac added the 'R' to the other two
cards lying on her desk. The purple roses she gave the
preeminent place on the corner of the desk and moved
the yellow ones off to a filing cabinet. "He won't be
back until this afternoon sometime."

Harriet spent a few moments sniffing the new roses.
"Mmmm, those really smell great, Colonel."

"Maybe you have a secret admirer," Bud suggested.

Mac put her hands on her hips. "Well, whatever it is,
I'm not going to get anything done with all of you
hovering around here." She grinned to soften the
words.

Her coworkers slowly filed out. Shaking her head at
the strangeness of the day, Mac sat down and tried to
work.

#

Oh please, oh please, oh please let this be an 'H'.
Mac stared at the new floral card in her hands. The
fourth dozen roses, their petals striped in a
brilliant mixture of red and yellow, sat on Gunny's
desk. Mac had been too impatient to wait until she got
to her office.

Without thought for how she might appear to her
coworkers, she ripped open the envelope and yanked out
the card.

"'L'?" 

"Ma'am?" Gunny watched her with an expression of
concern.

Mac stared at the piece of paper in her hands, unable
to immediately reconcile what was written with what
she'd been expecting. "It's an 'L'." The words came
out as a protest.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, that blows that theory," Sturgis commented as
he walked by. Mac had to throttle the sudden desire to
hit him. Shaking her head, she collected the roses and
headed back to her office.

#

When Mac got back from her midmorning meeting with a
client, she found four more rose bouquets sitting on
Gunny's desk. They were orange, peach, cream and a
very dark pink, respectively. Gunny stood a short ways
from his desk, working on paperwork that lay scattered
across the top of a filing cabinet as if he had given
up trying to share space with the flowers.

Mac just stared, mouth agape. 

"This is getting ridiculous!" she exclaimed when she
had recovered her voice. Harriet looked up at her, as
did Gunny. 

Lieutenant Tiner nodded in greeting as he passed.
"There are two more in your office, ma'am," he said.

"Do you want some help moving those, ma'am?" Harriet
stood.

It was so crazy Mac wanted to laugh. "Uh… yes,
please." She scooped up a random vase and headed for
her office, leaving Harriet and Galindez to follow.

The Admiral appeared at the door before they'd managed
to find spaces for the now ten dozen roses. Mac's
office had begun to resemble a flower shop. 

"Colonel, what is going on here?"

Mac raised her hands helplessly. "Sir, I wish I knew.
They just keep coming."

"You're disrupting the operation of this office and
tying up important personnel who have jobs to do." He
glared at Gunny for a moment.

"I'm sorry, sir." Mac stared at the forest of blooms
surrounding her. "I don't know what to say. It'll have
to stop soon."

"It is pretty extravagant for a practical joke, sir,"
Harriet chimed in.

"Not to mention expensive, sir," added Gunny, rubbing
his thumb and forefingers together. Mac had been
trying not to think of how many hundreds of dollars
worth of roses she now possessed.

The Admiral seemed only partially mollified. "See that
it does, Colonel," he told her with a no-nonsense
glower.

"Yes, sir."

Chegwidden returned to his office. Gunny also left. 

Mac pounced on the new cards. "I can't believe this is
happening." She opened them, laying each one out on
her desk beside the others. "Let's see… 'R', 'U', 'O',
another 'L', 'W', and an 'E'. I feel like I'm playing
Scrabble."

Harriet laughed, her eyes full of gentleness and
humor. "I think it's wonderful."

Mac grinned back at her. "Thanks, Harriet. Me, too. I
just wish I knew who they were from."

#

 

By midafternoon Mac had fifteen cards of varying
shapes and sizes laid out on her desk. All were
letters save one, which bore a question mark instead.
She had placed them in a line with the question mark
at the end, assuming the letters could be unscrambled
into something that made sense. At the moment, she
had:

A R M L O U R W E M Y L I Y ?

She was getting nowhere. The stunning bouquets of
roses-- no two alike-- covered every available inch of
her office, creating a montage of color. Mac had given
up on work entirely, and was arranging and rearranging
the letters on her desk in the hopes of answering the
question that totally preoccupied her.

She didn't bother to look up when someone entered her
office. In her peripheral vision she registered a pair
of Navy white pants coming to a stop in front of her
desk, but was too engrossed to notice beyond that.

"Wow, it smells great in here." Harm's voice snapped
her back to reality with a painful jolt. She jerked
her head upward to look at him. He leaned over the
desk, hands holding his cover behind his back, and
studied the row of letters. His expression was a
mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Hi, Mac." The blue eyes met hers. "Looks like you've
been having an interesting day."

"You could say that." Mac leaned back in her chair.
"How was court?"

Harm shrugged. "I do my closing argument tomorrow." He
turned his attention back to the letters.

Mac was a little surprised when he reached down with
one hand to slide one of the cards out of its
position, shuffling it to another spot further down
the line. She looked at his face and found it intent.
He moved another card.

Mac watched him in fascination. "I swear, Commander,
if you've figured this out after looking at it for
twenty seconds, I'm going to strangle you. I've been
staring at these things for an hour!"

Harm grinned at her but said nothing. He continued
rearranging the letters. ME emerged at the end of the
row, WILL at the beginning.

Mac didn't get it until he'd put the very last letter
in place. 

The cards read:

W I L L Y O U M A R R Y M E ?

Mac shoved herself to her feet with a gasp. She backed
away from Harm, staring at him in utter shock. Her
mouth moved as she tried to say something-- anything--
but no sound emerged.

Harm watched her reaction mildly. His smile was the
epitome of innocence. 

"It occurred to me at some point that we really needed
to have an engagement story," he said as if it were
the most normal thing in the world. "We could have
just sat down and made something up, but I figured
this way, we'll both be able to keep the details
straight." 

From behind his back he brought out, not his cover,
but a single long stemmed red rose and a small black
velvet box, which he gently lay on the blotter in
front of Mac. Only at the point did she notice that
there were no other red roses in the room.

Mac started to tremble as she approached the desk. She
still couldn't speak as she picked up the little box
and opened it. Inside was a plain, beautiful solitaire
diamond ring. 

"So, Mac, will you marry me?" The blue eyes danced.

Mac shook her head in denial, though of what she
wasn't sure. Her chest felt like it might explode at
any moment. "Harm, this is-- you didn't-- I mean, this
is a lot of money for…" For something that isn't real.
She trailed off, afraid to put that last into words.

His smile dimmed, turned bittersweet. "Don't worry,
Mac. It's borrowed. Well, sort of."

"Sort of?" 

"It's nothing you need to worry about."

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment.
Under other circumstances, Mac would have demanded
some kind of explanation for such a high-handed
statement. Right now, however, she was doing well just
to keep breathing. 

Suck it up, Marine! she barked at herself. This man
went to a lot of trouble to help solidify our cover
stories. And maybe, just maybe, because he thought
you'd enjoy it, too. The thought sapped her building
desire to rant at Harm.

As if waking from a dream, Mac took the ring from its
black case. She studied it for a moment in the light.
The gold band glowed, warm and buttery, as she turned
it. The edges of the band had been worn smooth, she
noted in surprise. It had seen years of use, perhaps
years of love. She hoped so.

Don't take this game for more than it is. Play along.
Have fun. Mac had to admit she'd really enjoyed all
the excitement and attention. She looked up at Harm
and summoned a smile. 

"Yes, I would love to marry you." Feeling a bit
self-conscious, Mac slipped the ring onto her finger.
It fit beautifully.

Harm wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead with an
extravagant gesture. "Phew. You had me worried for a
minute there." To Mac's relief he seemed willing to
let the intensely personal moment slip away. "It's no
wonder men don't like to commit." His grin was
teasing. "Talk about an intimidating situation!"

Mac rolled her eyes and the tension between them
eased. Her heart rate began to slow. 

She picked up the red rose and sniffed it, her eyes on
Harm. "You know, this is a side of you I've never
seen."
He raised an eyebrow.

"The whole romantic gesture thing." Mac gave him a
teasing grin. "No wonder women go wild over you."

She managed to embarrass him. He ducked his head
briefly. 

Mac let her breath out in a gusty sigh. "It's kind of
a shame to have wasted all this on me, really."

Harm's brows dipped, but then the brief, injured
expression was replaced by a sly smile. "Oh, I don't
know. You should have seen your face, Mac." 

Mac pretended not to see the flash of pain. There was
no place for it in this game they were playing.
Instead, she stayed with the banter, where it was
safe.

"Well, I must say you certainly surprised me, flyboy.
But pleasantly." She smiled at him. "Whatever
possessed you to send me all these roses?"

The boyish grin came back. "We did meet in a rose
garden." He shrugged. "It was kind of short notice to
get permission to go back there."

Mac laughed, a little overwhelmed by the implications.
No, it wouldn't be easy to get into the White House
Rose Garden. She wondered if Harm had tried anyway.
Knowing him and the kinds of friends he had, probably.


She sighed. "Thank you, Harm." His attention
frightened her, but at the same time filled her with
warmth and a strange joy. She couldn't bear the
thought that he might walk away disappointed by the
day. "This is wonderful." To her mortification, tears
formed in her eyes. She wiped them away impatiently,
but not before Harm had noticed. She saw him twitch,
as if only an effort of will kept him from coming
around the desk to comfort her despite the uniforms
they wore. 

"You're welcome," he said instead. 

Mac smiled, but secretly she wished he would have done
it anyway.

 
Chapter 6

A.J. forgot about the Temptation Cruise paperwork
until it was almost too late. Early Friday afternoon,
he uncovered the thick packets from the pile in his
inbox. He stared at them in dismay before jumping to
his feet and striding from the office.

"Lieutenant!" 

Harriet looked up at him in surprise as he approached
her desk. She hopped to her feet. "Yes, sir."

"Drop what you're doing and take care of these. They
need to be couriered to Daniel Steiner's office before
close of business today."

Harriet accepted the envelopes. "Yes, sir."

A.J. went back to his office. After Commander Rabb's
stunt the day before, he was more reluctant than ever
to let this undercover investigation continue. Not
that he would mind seeing the two of them together,
especially if it turned out to be permanent, but he
was very afraid the episode would accomplish nothing
more than to wreck a very capable partnership and hurt
two people he cared for.

#

Organized soul that she was, Harriet set out to
collect all the information she'd need from Commander
Rabb and Colonel McKenzie before she sat down to fill
out the paperwork. 

The Commander answered her questions with his usual
tolerance, eyes glinting with humor. To Harriet he
seemed like a loving older brother, the kind that
snuck you out of the house to go see a late movie and
took you to your first dance to make sure the boys
knew how you were supposed to be treated. 

That image didn't entirely mesh with the fact that the
Commander was also a fierce warrior who could strap on
a Tomcat to do battle in an arena that had little
margin for either error or mercy. That he could-- and,
in fact, had-- killed in defense of his life, his
friends, and his country made Harriet uncomfortable.
But only a little, she amended.

Harriet thanked the Commander and left, crossing the
bullpen to Colonel MacKenzie's office. The Colonel
answered her questions with brusque efficiency, as if
that would keep Harriet from seeing how unnerved she
was. It didn't, of course, and Harriet could see the
knowledge reflected in the Colonel's eloquent brown
eyes though neither of them acknowledged the fact.

She was a strange mix of strength and weakness,
Harriet thought. On one hand, the Colonel was one of
the toughest women she'd ever met. Hard, to some
degree, but also courageous, strong, and passionate.
On the other hand, she was also one of the most
insecure women Harriet knew. Harriet often wondered if
there was anyone the Colonel trusted completely. She
didn't think so, and it was sad to watch her build up
walls to keep out the people who cared most for her.

Well listen to me, the closet psychologist, Harriet
scolded herself as she left. The relationship between
the two wasn't really any of her business, despite the
fact that they were both dear friends… and the
godparents to her only child… and totally hopeless
when it came to matters of the heart. 

On the heels of that thought, Harriet headed back to
her desk and the mound of papers she had approximately
forty minutes to complete. Her fingers flew across the
typewriter keyboard, a machine that only she and the
Admiral knew how to use with anything approaching
competence. She blazed through the forms, occasionally
checking her notes as she went. In the back of her
mind, some small portion of her continued to muse on
the plight of her friends.

Harriet finished with not a moment to spare. She
bundled up the paperwork, slipped it all into an
envelope with Mr. Steiner's name and address on it,
then placed that envelope inside the special courier
envelope which she gave to the waiting petty officer
who would deliver it. 

Satisfied that her task was complete, she brushed her
hands together and turned back to her desk, unaware
she had made one fundamental mistake. 

#

Early Saturday morning, Daniel Steiner was in his
office, going over the vast array of preparations that
had been made for the contestants' dinner that night.
That would be his first real chance to observe the
couples and to make his initial evaluation of how to
target each one. The bios only told him so much.
Steiner was a genius at identifying weaknesses, a
talent he exploited ruthlessly for his own benefit and
that of his show. 

Most of the soon-to-be newlyweds were mundane,
shallow. Already, he was certain he knew where his
star power would come from: The Andersons-- a couple
of college kids too young and idealistic to be swayed
by most temptations, but, luckily, also young enough
to still be naïve. They would be the cute couple, the
ones everyone wanted to see win. The Crossby/Esperanza
pair would be the Andersons' antithesis. Viciously
independent and aggressive, the two could succeed out
of pure determination. They would not be motivated by
love, but they would be hard to take down without
careful groundwork. And then there were his military
investigators-- the wildcards. Not only did they up
the gorgeous quotient substantially, but there were
some truly delicious undercurrents there that Steiner
intended to exploit to the full. Not to mention that
they, of all the contestants, would have an agenda
other than winning the prize, something the audience
would quickly pick up on if given sufficient exposure.
Even if it turned out that Ariel was guilty, that,
too, he could spin into the show.

He grinned. TC II might top the original ratings if he
worked things right.

Steiner's assistant came in and laid a sheet of paper
on the desk in front of him. "You wanted to see the
press release before it went out."

Steiner picked up the paper and scanned it. Two names
jumped out at him, eliciting a smile that quickly
widened as he realized the possibilities. No, they
couldn't have made such a basic mistake, could they?
It had to have been his own people…

"Lisa, get the paperwork the Navy sent us," he told
the assistant, unable to hide his excitement.

She hurried off only to return a few minutes later
with the appropriate folder. Steiner grabbed it and
flipped it open. He began to chuckle.

"Oh, this is rich. We are going to make a fortune." He
stopped and thought for a moment. There was the chance
they'd use the excuse to back out. But no, the Navy
needed its good press too badly. The specter of
Tailhook still haunted them. 

Smirking, he double-checked the press release, then
handed it to Lisa. "Looks good. Send it out."

#

Harm and Mac pulled into the parking lot outside JAG
headquarters at roughly the same time. 

"Did you get called in, too?" Harm asked as Mac joined
him on the curb.

She nodded, her brow creased with concerned. "If we're
both being called in at 1430 on a Saturday, it has to
be something serious."

Harm grinned at her. "Look at the bright side. Maybe
we won't have to go to this dinner thing tonight."

Mac chuckled. "We can only hope."

They went inside. The Admiral was waiting for them in
his office.

"Sit down, both of you," he said, waving them to their
customary seats. His expression was grim.

They sat. Chegwidden steepled his hands in front of
his face and stared at his officers in silence.

Harm's sense of trepidation grew stronger with each
passing moment. Something had definitely gone wrong in
the world if the Admiral needed time to compose what
he wanted to say.

"Sir?" Mac finally asked. She hated pregnant silences,
Harm knew from experience. 

The Admiral sighed. "There's been a problem with the
undercover investigation."

Harm stifled a groan. Could it possibly get worse? He
regretted asking himself the question when the Admiral
began to speak again.

"There was a… mistake made on your paperwork. If it
was anyone's fault, it's mine. I was the one who
forgot about until the last moment." He shook his
head. "I can only hope Harriet won't take this too
hard."

Harm and Mac traded nervous glances.

"Take what too hard, sir?" Harm asked.

Chegwidden took a deep breath. "All the paperwork was
filled out with your real names, not your cover
identities. I talked with Mr. Steiner earlier and,
unfortunately, the list of contestants has already
been released to the media. We can't make a
substitution without drawing a lot of suspicion."

Harm wondered what he was missing. "Sir, we've gone
undercover using our real names in a number of
instan--" Harm broke off as understanding hit him. His
mind, as usual, had continued along the thought path,
well ahead of his mouth. He suddenly understood why
the Admiral looked so grim. Each of the contestant
couples would be married as part of the show's first
episode, just prior to boarding the cruise ship. Harm
hadn't been looking forward to that part for a lot of
reasons, but now it had taken on even more frightening
implications.

Mac paled. "If we use our real names, then the wedding
on the show would be…"

"Legal," the Admiral finished for her.

Harm's stomach tightened. He couldn't keep his eyes
from sliding to Mac's face. What am I supposed to say
to that? he wondered. For once he couldn't read the
expression in his partner's eyes.

"For that reason, unless one of you has an objection,
I'm going to call the SecNav and tell him I'm pulling
the plug on this investigation." The Admiral split his
gaze between them.

"Uh, sir--" Harm was surprised to hear his own voice.

The Admiral's gaze snapped to him and only long years
of exposure kept Harm from flinching at the intensity
of his stare. "Do you have an objection, Commander?"

Harm very carefully did not look at Mac. "A question,
sir." He took a deep breath. "What happens if we pull
out?"

The Admiral leaned back in his chair. "I suppose
they'll find two other poor, unsuspecting schmucks to
take your place on the show and you two will return to
your normal lives--" He flashed Mac a tight smile.
"Reputations intact."

"Sir, what happens to the Navy?" Harm wondered why he
was asking. There I go again, refusing to leave things
be. I don’t really want to do this… do I?

The Admiral's expression darkened, but he said
nothing. His silence answered the question more
forcefully than any words could have. The military had
gotten a boost from the recent, rampant patriotism in
the wake of the September 11th attacks, but no one had
forgotten Tailhook or the other incidents. With the
United States examining itself as the model for fair
and equal treatment for all people, there would be
little tolerance of any kind of misconduct,
particularly from the military.

When he did speak, the Admiral's voice was tightly
controlled. "The Navy does not have the power or the
right to force either of you to continue under these
circumstances."

"Sir?" Mac spoke for the first time. "Are you angry
with us?"

The Admiral turned to her. "Not yet, Colonel, but I
will be if you and Commander Rabb insist on continuing
with this lunacy."

"Why, sir?"

A brief, wry smile lit the Admiral's features. "Do you
really want me to answer that, Colonel MacKenzie?"

She blinked at his implication, then sat back,
thoroughly chastened. Harm couldn't blame her. He also
didn't dare look at her.

For a little while there was silence in the Admiral's
office.

"Very well," the Admiral finally said. "I'll call
SecNav."

"Sir--"

"What, Commander?"

Harm thought through what he wanted to say. The idea
of backing out rankled, especially when they were in a
position to do so much good for the Navy, which was
more of a family to Harm than his real one. No, it was
more than that. The Navy was his foundation-- the
basis for his ethics, his life, his ambitions. The
credos of a Naval officer, aviator, even litigator
defined who Harmon Rabb was. He couldn't stand by
while the Navy's reputation was besmirched, not if he
had the power to intervene.

Harm took a deep breath. "I'm willing to continue,
sir."

"Rabb, you must either be out of your mind, or
secretly in love with Colonel MacKenzie." 

Harm kept his reaction in check with an effort. He was
not going to touch that one. He held the Admiral's
gaze. "I want to protect the Navy, sir. The U.S.
military is our example to the world of who and what
Americans are. We need to know what happened on that
cruise, sir, so the Navy can take appropriate action--
whatever that may be."

Harm was aware of Mac staring at him, perhaps straight
through him, with those deep, dark eyes of hers. She
turned to the Admiral.

"Sir, the marriage could be… annulled, couldn't it?
After we get back?"

Startled, Harm turned toward her. She met his gaze,
her expression filled with understanding. Harm's heart
swelled with gratitude. Mac was backing him because
she understood his reasons, and because she supported
him any time it was important. Harm knew he would do
the same for her. That was what made them partners.

The Admiral looked between them, then shook his head.
"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"No, sir."

"We wouldn't do that, sir."

"Is that all, sir?" Harm asked.

The Admiral gave him a look of disgust. "Isn't that
enough, Commander?"

Harm sucked in his breath. "Yes, sir." Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Mac fighting a smile.

Harm and Mac walked out together. Harm opened the door
and held it for his partner. It felt completely
natural to place one hand lightly on the small of her
back as she passed. Mac glanced up at him as he did,
and he wondered once again just how big a risk they
were taking.

 

Chapter 7

Harm knocked on Mac's door promptly at five. He could
hear Mac's voice, strident but muffled, from within.
She opened the door with barely a glance in his
direction before turning away. She held the phone
sandwiched in her shoulder.

"Chloe, I have to go." Mac walked toward the kitchen
where her purse and coat lay in a pile on the counter.
Harm couldn't help but admire as she went. The dress
the fashion people had given her was short and made of
a satiny material the color of milk chocolate. It
clung suggestively to her curves as she walked, the
fabric running with liquid color where the light
struck it just right.

"Whoa," Harm commented under his breath as he let
himself into the apartment. Mac was beautiful under
any circumstances, but she could be stunning when she
chose.

Mac was still involved in her phone conversation,
which, by its tone didn't sound very pleasant. But
then, Harm knew Chloe and Mac had been having some
troubles since Mic left.

Mac heaved a tired sigh. "Yes, Harm is here. We need
to leave in a few minutes." A pause. Mac looked toward
the ceiling, her voice pained. "I told you, it's an
investigation and I can't give you any details.
Besides, you'll see for yourself soon enough."

That apparently made Chloe pause, and Mac took
advantage of the opportunity. "Goodbye, Chloe. I love
you." She hung up quickly.

When she turned to look at Harm, he shrugged. "She
hates me." He always felt like he needed to apologize
for that, though it wasn't his fault.

Mac sighed, frustrated. "Well, you're not Mic."

"No, I'm not."

Mac's gaze jumped to his. "I'm sorry, Harm. She's
young and idealistic. She's convinced Mic and I belong
together--"

"And that I got in the way. I know." Harm walked over
to the couch and seated himself on one arm. 

Mac came to him as if drawn. He could see the hurt and
frustration in her eyes. "She won't listen. She
doesn't want to believe that I couldn't love him the
way he deserved, that it never would have worked." She
wrapped her arms around Harm's neck, her entire body
tense from the roiling emotions that underlay her
words. Harm reciprocated, slipping his arms around her
waist but not trying to pull her closer. He had always
wondered why she wanted a hug from him whenever she
talked about Mic, but hadn't yet summoned the nerve to
ask.

Mac heaved a sigh. "In some ways, I am so glad you
went down that night."

Harm turned to look at her face. "Even though I almost
died?"

Mac looked away. "You didn't, so yes. It was like I
was in this fog…" Her gaze grew distant. "Everyone
else figured it out before me. I really didn't
understand why Mic was leaving, not at first." She
paused, rigid in his grasp. "You want to know when I
figured it out?" Her voice had taken on a bitter edge.

Wary, Harm nodded. "Tell me."

"When I walked away from your door. Because that hurt
more than watching Mic step on an airplane to
Australia."

Harm could hardly force himself to breathe. Had they
really gotten to the point they could re-open this
wound and set it to healing? He had long since locked
away the things he'd realized that night because they
were too painful to live with, but now…

His breath caught in his throat. "Mac--"

It was too much, too fast. The moment shattered. Mac
backed up as if she'd been burned. "We need to get
going." She went to retrieve her things from the
kitchen.

Harm wanted to grab her and shake her, but knew
better. That would only harden her defenses. Instead
he watched her silently. 

When she had her things, he followed her to the door.

#

They drove in uncomfortable silence. Mac alternated
between berating herself for opening her mouth and
trying to work up the nerve to apologize. She watched
Harm from the corner of her eye. He kept his attention
focused on his driving, which wasn't unusual. For a
man who had the reflexes and the nerve to fly
fighters, he drove like a grandmother.

"The speed limit is fifty here," she commented as they
passed another sign.

"We have plenty of time," was the cool response. He
didn't look at her.

Mac leaned her head back against the headrest, angry
with herself. Stupid, Sarah. This was a bad time to
open a can of worms. She knew she'd hurt Harm's
feelings, perhaps more deeply than she wanted to
admit. You really need to learn to keep your mouth
shut around him when it comes to Mic. Except that he
was the only person in the world who could comfort her
when her heart was on the line.

What a mess. I wonder if any of the other couples are
fighting on the way to this thing, or if it's just us?
She grimaced. Listen to me, 'other couples'. Is that
what we are now?

Gathering her courage, she turned her head. "I'm
sorry, Harm."

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. "For what
Mac? What you said… or what you didn't say?" He shot
her a single, piercing glance.

Ouch. Mac bit her lip. "Both, I guess." She forced
herself to go on. "Mic told me that the only reason I
agreed to marry him was because I didn't want to be
alone, and he was right." She made a helpless gesture.
"I don't want to make that mistake again." She looked
away, out the window. "This-- this thing between us,
Harm… I don't know what it is. All I know is that it's
deep and powerful, and--" She shook her head. "And
this assignment is just making it more confusing."

He sighed, no longer sounding angry. "No objection
here." His gaze shifted between the windshield and his
side mirror as he changed lanes. "You didn't have to
do it, you know. The Admiral was all set to kill this
thing."

"You're the one who filed the motion for a
continuance," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "Defense counsel for the Navy needed more
time to prepare arguments and gather evidence."

Mac eyed him. "Which action defense co-counsel fully
supports."

She watched as some of Harm's tension drained away.
She could see it in the set of his shoulders and the
quirk of his every-so-expressive eyebrows. A slightly
more comfortable silence descended.

A bit later, Harm flashed her a grin as if none of the
past twenty minutes had happened. "Mac, how many
lawyers does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Mac stared at him in surprise. The sudden change in
his demeanor was a bit unnerving. Was he really
dropping the issue? 

"I don't know. How many?"

He smiled. "No one knows. When the light goes on, they
all scurry back under the rug."

Mac's laughter was pained. "Oh, ouch." Was the
cockroach comparison aimed at me? Harm wasn't usually
that subtle. No, most likely he was just making a joke
to lighten the atmosphere, and for that she was
grateful. 

She thought for a moment. "All right. How many
psychologists does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Harm accelerated as he pulled onto a new street. "How
many?"

"I don't know. How many do you think?"

He chuckled. "How many zoomies does it take to screw
in a light bulb?"

Mac smiled in anticipation. The mutual disregard
between the Air Force and the Naval services went back
decades. "How many?"

"Five. One to hold the light bulb and four to spin the
ladder."

Mac chuckled. "I'll have to remember that one. Let's
see, how many CIA operatives does it take to screw in
a light bulb?"

"Hopefully Webb doesn't have my car bugged. How many?"

"If I told you that I'd have to kill you."

It was Harm's turn to laugh, but the laughter died as
they turned into the Marriott's parking lot. 

"We're here." He pulled into a parking space and
killed the engine.

When he reached for the door handle, Mac touched his
arm, halting him. He looked at her questioningly.

Mac moistened her lips, her stomach trembling. She had
to take the step, though. She owed him that much. 

"When this is over--" She indicated the hotel visible
through the windshield. "All of it… maybe then we can
try to figure out…" The words lodged in her throat.

"…what this thing is?" Harm cocked an eyebrow at her.

She nodded. "Yeah." On impulse, she leaned over to
kiss him on the cheek, but at the last moment he
turned and caught her lips with his instead. Mac's
heart leapt into her throat, powered upward by a lance
of heat that speared through the center of her body,
searing everything it touched. Her fingers tightened
spasmodically on his arm and the lapel of his jacket,
knotting in them as if her life depended on it. She
felt his hand behind her neck, pulling her closer,
holding her tight. Distantly, she heard the sound of
cloth sliding across the upholstery, but it had no
meaning for her. All that mattered in that moment was
the feel of Harm's mouth on hers, the heat of his
skin, and the frantic pounding of her own heart.

The kiss ended long before Mac wanted it to. Harm's
touch trailed away, leaving an ache where it had been.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her. The
blue, blue eyes stared into her own, unguarded and
deeply surprised. He blinked.

"That got out of hand in a hurry," he observed,
sounding more than a little abashed.

Mac discovered she was leaning across the center
console, well into the driver's side of the car. She
straightened self-consciously and fanned herself with
the lapels of her coat. She shot Harm a sidelong look.


"Is it hot in here?" 

He chuckled, breaking the tension, and flashed her an
impish grin. "Oh, yeah." 

Together they got out of the car. The cool air struck
Mac's face and swirled around her body. She drew a
deep, bracing breath before walking forward to meet
Harm. Strangely enough, she didn't feel awkward
slipping her hand into his for the walk across the
parking lot. At least, not until the light pressure of
his grip made her aware of the engagement ring
decorating her finger, and reminded her of just how
high the stakes were in this game they were playing.


Chapter 8

They were met just inside the front door by Selena.
She greeted them, panning her dazzling smile across
both lawyers impartially.

"So, it is now Mr. Rabb and Ms. MacKenzie, correct?"
she asked.

Harm and Mac exchanged glances. "That's correct," Harm
answered warily.

Selena's smile deepened. "Don't worry, I am being well
paid not to ask questions. We'll simply go on from
here as if it has always been this way." She gestured
toward the bank of elevators behind her. "Mr. Steiner
has reserved the penthouse for the evening. If you'll
follow me…"

Harm and Mac did so. They emerged from the elevator to
a fairyland of twinkling lights and soft music. Having
been to a few functions where the President himself
was in attendance, neither officer was awestruck, but
Steiner sure had pulled out all the stops, Harm
thought. The suite took up a full quarter of the
Marriott's top floor. The two external walls were made
entirely of floor-to-ceiling panes of glass, giving a
spectacular view of the capitol. The last rays of
sunset turned the sky a burnished orange, brushed with
red, and covered the monuments in shadow. Inside the
room, the lights had been dimmed. A buffet lined one
wall, complete with liveried attendants. White leather
furniture dotted the open floor. A jazz trio played in
one corner, next to the baby grand piano. People stood
or sat in uncomfortable pairs, trying to make light
conversation while also sizing each other up. A few
struck Harm as looking more like tourists than
anything else. And in the middle of it all stood
Daniel Steiner, talking animatedly to the knot of
people who surrounded him, their attention rapt.

"I feel like I'm walking into the wolf's den." Mac
said out of the corner of her mouth.

In response, Harm pulled her closer and started
humming, "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?" in her
ear. Mac giggled, as he'd hoped she would. 

Selena led them through the group toward Steiner. He
interrupted the story he was telling when he spied
her.

"Ah! Selena, dear, you look as lovely as ever." They
greeted each other with airy kisses, then Steiner
turned to Harm and Mac. "And you two must be Mr. Rabb
and Ms. MacKenzie. It's a please to meet you at last,
and to officially welcome you to Temptation Cruise
II."

As they made the requisite pleasantries, Harm felt the
other couples taking their measure. The stares were
surprisingly hostile. Or perhaps not so surprisingly.
Unlike Harm and his partner, all the others were there
in pursuit of a million-dollar prize, and were either
greedy enough, stupid enough, or both, to risk their
marriages on it.

"Please, help yourselves to some food and whatever
you'd like from the bar. We'll be getting underway in
a few minutes." Steiner waved toward the buffet, then
went back to whatever speech he'd interrupted to greet
them. Harm and Mac gratefully moved away.

"Hungry?" Harm asked as they approached the buffet.

Mac picked up a plate and looked over the choices.
"Starving, though I doubt there's much here worth
eating." She made a show of looking over the caviar,
crab puffs and aged cheeses with distaste.

Harm chuckled. "I think burgers are a little too
plebian for this crowd. There's sushi, though." He
moved to take some of the California rolls for
himself.

Mac grimaced. "You and your health food."

At the end of the buffet, they ran into another
couple. They can't possibly be old enough to get
married, can they? Harm wondered as he looked them
over. To him, the girl looked like she might be
sixteen, which probably meant she was somewhere around
twenty-- that age range was beginning to blur for him.
She was cute, though. Her blond hair was piled on top
of her head with little ringlets framing her face.
Freckles dusted her nose and her cornflower-blue eyes
were both sweet and a little shy. Her fiancée was more
of the same. Probably All-American on his high school
football team. He had those kind of clean-cut good
looks. 

The young man held out his hand to Harm. "Hi, I'm Jeb
Anderson." His voice held a mild southern twang.
Kentucky, maybe, or Tennessee. Harm took the proffered
handshake, which was surprisingly strong.

"Harmon Rabb," he returned. "Call me Harm."

Jeb indicated his fiancée. "This is Stacy." The look
he gave her was gently possessive and bordered on
adoration. Harm tried not to laugh as he shook her
hand. I was that young once, wasn't I? It seemed like
it must have been a lifetime ago. He turned to Mac.

"Jeb, Stacy, this is… my fiancée, Sarah MacKenzie." He
managed not to stumble too badly on the words.

"Call me Mac." At their surprised looks, she added,
"It's short for MacKenzie."

"Oh." Trying to look nonchalant-- and failing
miserably-- Stacy nodded, making her ringlets bounce.
Harm stifled a chuckle, contenting himself with a grin
instead. He wasn't quite old enough to be this girl's
father, but close enough, and for a moment he caught a
glimpse of what he was missing out on by not having
kids.

Harm turned to Jeb. "So what do you do?" he asked
conversationally.

"I'm in the Engineering program at Kansas State
University." Jeb took a sip from the beer he held, and
Harm mentally revised his age estimate up to
twenty-one. "I was supposed to graduate this coming
May, but I'm taking a semester off to be on the show."

Harm nodded. "What field?" The more questions he
asked, he figured, the fewer he'd have to answer.

"Aerospace. K-State has a great program."

Harm's interest sharpened. "Do you fly?"

Jeb grinned hugely. "Just got my license this summer.
I'm working on my instrument rating now. You?"

Harm nodded, unable to contain a smile. "Yep. I've got
a Stearman I take up whenever I get the chance."

Behind him, Mac groaned. "Oh no, there he goes talking
about airplanes again."

Harm glanced over his shoulder to see Stacy laughing
and Mac frowning playfully. 

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who has to live with
it," Stacy said.

Mac's gaze jumped to Harm's. He caught a hint of
defensiveness, quickly buried. She didn't understand
his passion with flying. In fact, she sometimes seemed
to resent it. In the Navy it was a common joke that a
pilot never got lonely during the longs months at sea,
for he always had his mistress to go to and the
solitude of Angels Twenty and beyond in which to enjoy
her. Harm couldn't legitimately argue the point.
Flying Tomcats burned in his blood more than any woman
ever had. 

It made him wonder, then, why he'd returned to JAG
when he could have flown. Sure, it was a young man's
game, something he no longer was, but he was good
enough to have stayed and taught the kids a thing or
two. It was a career path that might have led him to
command of an air wing and possibly, at its pinnacle,
command of an entire carrier group.

And at JAG? Harm knew the Admiral was grooming him to
take his place, that in ten years or so he would be
JAG, provided he didn't do anything stupid-- well,
stupider, anyway-- between now and then. Most likely,
being a lawyer would earn him Admiral's bars long
before being a pilot would. 

Rank had never been Harm's driving ambition, though.

Take a deep breath and just admit it, he admonished
himself. It's Mac. Everything comes down to Mac. It
always had.

Steiner called for the room's attention then, saving
Harm from his thoughts. They and the soon-to-be
Andersons moved toward the producer, mingling with the
rear of the crowd now gathered around him. 

Mac gave Harm a curious look. "You o.k.?" Concern
tinged her voice.

Harm turned on his trademark grin. "Just feeling my
age."

Mac glanced ruefully over at Jeb and Stacy, then back
to him. "I know how you feel."

Dan Steiner raised his voice once again, ending the
conversation. "Once again, let me officially welcome
you all to Temptation Cruise II, the hottest show on
television!" There was a smattering of applause. Harm
and Mac rolled their eyes at each other. 

"Each of you has been chosen from the thousands of
applications because we--" He gestured to the men
standing to either side of him, one of which, Harm
noted in surprise, was Tony Ariel. "--believe each of
you has the faith, the strength, and the determination
necessary to win the million-dollar grand prize."

"Not to mention the greed and arrogance," Mac added in
an undertone.

Harm was too distracted to respond to her comment.
"Did you see Ariel come in?" he asked in a voice
pitched for her ears only. "He's over there next to
Steiner."

Mac craned her head a fraction to see, then shook it
lightly. "No. I must have been looking the wrong way.
He sure doesn't fit in, does he?" Unlike anyone else
in the room, Ariel was badly overweight, and was
dressed in a shabby T-shirt and jeans. Amidst the
tailored outfits and assumed glamour, he stood out
like a warning buoy on a dark ocean.

Steiner beamed at the crowd. "Let me first go over the
rules of the competition. There are a few minor
changes from the first Cruise, which I will explain.
After that I'll answer any questions you may have, and
the rest of the evening you'll have to mingle and get
to know each other."

Mac crossed her arms. "Oh, joy."

Harm grinned at her sarcasm.

"On June 19th-- a day you will each remember with
great fondness, I hope-- you will board our cruise
ship, the Radiant Heart, after exchanging vows with
your betrothed on the shore. Each of our nine newlywed
couples will be assigned a luxurious cabin and will be
treated like kings and queens for the duration of the
six-week cruise. Scattered among the other cabins on
the ship will be those housing our delectable
singles-- a total of twenty-four for this cruise:
twelve men and twelve women. The first night of the
cruise-- the wedding night-- all of the singles will
be confined to their quarters until sunrise. After
that, however, you will all be free to mingle as you
choose.

"Twice each week, at our various ports of call, each
of the newlyweds will be required to go on an outing
alone with one of the singles of the opposite sex. The
activities will be things like snorkeling, boating,
hiking, and horseback riding. Spouses will be able to
win the opportunity to block their mates from going on
an outing with a specific single during the various
competitions that will be held. In some instances,
spouses will also be able to pick the single their
mate will go outing with.

"Everything will be recorded on video, and spouses
will have the option to view the other's outing once
everyone has returned to the ship. They can turn down
the opportunity, but if one spouse chooses to watch,
the other then must watch as well.

"Every inch of the ship is covered by video cameras.
The cameras in the newlyweds' staterooms operate
differently than the rest. Between dawn and dusk, the
cameras in your rooms will always be on. After dark,
you can shut them down by turning off the cabin
lights." Steiner grinned wickedly. "We're not in the
business of shooting revealing film of our happily
married couples.

"Elsewhere on the ship, however, there is no mercy.
The cameras are always on, including in the empty
cabins-- each of which is done in a different theme,
and with a few very pleasant surprises for those who
find them." The grin reappeared. 

"There will be a number of independent cameramen
roaming the ship as well. They are to be ignored. They
are under strict instruction never to speak to you or
interact with you in any way.

"Grounds for elimination from the competition are the
same as last time, and are quite simple. Any voluntary
sexual act with someone other than your spouse will
result in elimination from the competition and removal
from the ship at the next port of call. This does not
necessarily mean intercourse, though that is, of
course, included." Steiner then went on to describe in
great detail the distinction between activities that
would and would not constitute grounds for
disqualification.

Harm had never considered himself particularly shy
when it came to discussing sex, but found himself
staring at his shoes while Steiner talked. In truth,
it was no more explicit than some of the testimony
he'd taken witnesses through in various cases
involving sexual harassment, rape, or fraternization,
but it somehow seemed much more embarrassing.

"Are we sure we want to do this?" Mac whispered to him
when Steiner finished.

Harm bent down to whisper back, "Heck no. At the
moment, I'm all for making a break for it. How about
you?"

A smile crept into her voice. "Are you blushing,
Harm?"

"Now, I think that covers all the basics," Steiner
said before he could respond. "Are there any
questions?"

There were a few. Harm and Mac learned that the heads
aboard ship would not have surveillance since that was
against Federal law. 

"Thank goodness for small favors," was Mac's sour
comment.

They also learned that couples could voluntarily opt
out of the competition if they decided the risk to
their relationship was no longer worth the million
dollars. That, strangely enough, made Harm feel much
better. Punching out was never fun, but it beat going
down with the airplane any day.

"Nice to know there's an escape," Mac said as the
music picked up and the crowd began to disperse.

Beside her, Stacy was looking a little pale. "Yeah."

"What made you two decide to do something like this?"
Mac asked the young couple.

Jeb shrugged, but smiled. "It was kind of a dare. I
was braggin' to Stacy once while we were watching the
original Cruise that I loved her so much we could go
on the show and win, easy."

Stacy flushed at that. "So when I heard about the
sequel, I went online and applied," she said. "And
here we are."

"What about you two?" Jeb asked.

Harm looked at Mac, who shrugged, leaving it in his
lap. "Believe it or not, our boss got us into it,"
Harm said, thinking quickly. In a twisted sense, it
was true.

"His idea of a practical joke," Mac added. "But, hey,
who could turn down a six-week cruise?"

Stacy gave her a skeptical look. "Do you really think
you can win?" 

Harm was a little surprised by the challenging grin
that lit his partner's face. "We certainly intend to."
She leaned into Harm, her body language as suggestive
as anything she'd ever done in his presence.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked quickly,
wondering why he wanted an excuse to get out of the
conversation. Having Mac hanging on him was hardly
something to be avoided.

She merely nodded and let him lead her away. When
they'd gained some distance, her demeanor returned to
normal. She shook her head. "These people are
completely out of their minds-- and so are we for
going through with this. You know what I'm dreading
most?"

"What?"

"Going back to work after this. I'm going to walk into
court and the judge will say, 'Hey, aren't you one of
those bimbos from Temptation Cruise?'".

Harm chuckled. "Mac, I pity any man who calls you a
bimbo."

The comment won him a laugh. "And with good reason,
Harm. With good reason."


Chapter 9

A.J. came out of his office a few minutes before the
formal start of the day. He liked to walk through the
bullpen, say good morning, and catch up on the various
goings-on in his surrogate family's lives. Lately, the
Temptation Cruise saga had become preeminent. Harm and
Mac had regaled them with stories of the horrors of
power lunches, professional photo shoots, and worst of
all, the contestant interviews. 

This morning, the entire JAG team seemed to have
gathered, with the notable exception of Colonel
MacKenzie. A.J. drifted over.

"Is everyone ready for the Labor Day picnic?" he asked
after the round of "Good morning, Admiral!" had died
away.

"Yes, sir," Harriet assured him. "I've made sure
everyone knows what they're supposed to bring for the
barbeque, and Tiner has agreed to bring his volleyball
net and lawn darts."

"You have lawn darts, Lieutenant?" Sturgis asked with
a grin.

"I do, sir." Tiner answered, but didn't seem to know
whether to be pleased or offended by the question.

"Hey, Harm." Sturgis turned his attention to the
commander. "Are you and Mac going to make this a
'hands on' or a 'hands off' event?"

Harm flushed, embarrassed, as attention centered on
him. "I don't know, Sturgis. I'll have to ask her."
The look he gave his friend promised retribution for
mentioning something that obviously hadn't been meant
for general consumption.

A.J. glanced between the two men, fighting to keep his
expression stern. "I'm not entirely sure I like the
sound of this, Commander. Would you care to explain?"

Harm spread his hands, his grin as guileless as a
five-year-old's. "Well, sir, it's a term the Colonel
and I have been using to differentiate between times
when we're acting… in character for the investigation,
and times when we're not."

"It's pretty amazing, sir," Harriet piped up. "They're
very convincing." The comment earned her a glare from
Commander Rabb and a scandalized stare from her
husband. She subsided with an "what-did-I-do" pout.

"Ah." A.J. studied his lead litigator. He had never
found many opportunities to advise Harm about his
relationship with Mac, to his regret. He so wanted to
help the two find each other. Unfortunately, he was
bound by the rules of his position not to foster
behavior that violated Navy regulations, and so far he
had never stepped over that line. He paused as a
thought struck him. This undercover investigation had
done a rather good job of redrawing the lines, though,
hadn't it? 

A.J. kept his smirk firmly to himself. "I think I'd
like to judge that for myself, thank you, Harriet." He
nodded to the Lieutenant, then turned to Harm.
"Consider it a 'hands on' event, Commander. I believe
that's the correct term?"

Harm gaped at him.

A.J. turned his hard-line routine up a notch. "Do you
have a problem with that, Commander?" he demanded.
A.J. so loved being an Admiral. He could torment his
friends without risk of payback.

"Uh… no, sir."

"Good." A.J. widened his attention to take in the
whole group. "I look forward to seeing you all on
Monday." And with that he headed back to his office,
silently whistling a merry tune as he went.

#

"Sturgis, I am going to kill you!" Harm glared at the
commander in friendly outrage.

Sturgis laughed, completely unimpressed. "Only if Mac
doesn't kill you first."

"She just might, you realize."

"Oh, sir, it'll be all right." Harriet gave Harm a
compassionate smile.

"You!" With a laugh of his own, Harm rounded on her.
"After I've finished with him--" He pointed to
Sturgis. "I'm going to come after you, Lieutenant." At
Bud's alarmed look, he added in an undertone, "Or at
the very least, order your husband to take you home
and spank you."

Bud and Harriet stared at him wide-eyed while everyone
else dissolved into discrete giggles. Satisfied that
he'd made his point, Harm turned to leave. He took a
step and nearly collided with Mac, who stood two paces
behind him. She wore a look of amusement that set her
dark eyes to dancing.

"Do I dare ask?"

The spate of giggles turned into full-scale guffaws.
Harm couldn't help but join in the laughter. "I'll
tell you later," he promised.

He noticed she was holding a very large manila
envelope in one hand. "What's that?"

Mac handed the envelope over, grinning at him with a
kind of cheerful menace. "Apparently, Rolling Stone
has decided they want you for their cover-- don't ask
me why."

Harm studied the envelope in his hands with interest.
This whole cover photo escapade certainly wasn't
harming his ego. "That's not very charitable of you,
Mac." He flashed his partner a smile. "Have I given
you any trouble at all about being on Cosmo?"

Mac groaned. "At least you get the shot to yourself. I
had to spend sixteen hours with that Esperanza witch."

Harm chuckled. "Carmen, Mac. Her name is Carmen."

"You would know."

Harm looked at her askance. "You're in a mood this
morning." At her sharp look, he continued, "For your
information, that woman has 'Maneater' stamped on her
forehead." He grinned disarmingly. "Besides, she's
engaged." He bent down to add in a conspiratorial
whisper, "And so am I, you know."

"Harm." Mac backed up a step, her expression carrying
a half-serious warning. "Anyway, those are the prints
for the cover photo." She waved toward the envelope.
"Sandy Claussen wants to know which one you like."
Harm raised both eyebrows as she continued, "She came
by my apartment this morning."

"Why'd she go to your place?"

"Because you weren't at yours." Their gazes locked for
a moment as the implication sank in. 

"What did you tell her?"

Mac shrugged, her gaze even. "That you'd already left
for work, of course. But, that's why I'm so late. I
had to throw a robe on over my uniform to answer the
door, and then I had to change because there was lint
all over the jacket. Oh, and on a slightly different
subject-- you left your sweater at my place last
night. Here." She handed him the dark blue sweater
that had quickly become too warm to wear while they
were going over some statements related to their most
recent case.

"Thanks." Harm decided to ignore the curious
expressions on the faces of the people surrounding
them. Let them wonder. It was the only revenge he
would ever get. 

#

"I feel very weird about this," Mac told Harm as they
approached the Admiral's front door Monday afternoon.

Harm shrugged, unperturbed. "Orders are orders."

Mac sighed and let it go. It just didn't bother him as
much as it did her. 

The wooden steps creaked under their feet as they made
their way to the door. Harm knocked.

A small, shadowed corner of the porch caught Mac's
eye. She turned involuntarily as the memories came
back, rushing through her in a torrent of emotions.
She felt Harm tense.

"Do you ever wonder…?" She wasn't certain she'd voiced
the question aloud until he answered.

"Every day, Mac." His voice was rough.

The door opened, startling them both. Their gazes
snapped forward guiltily.

"Good afternoon, Commander, Colonel." The Admiral
watched them with an odd expression that disappeared
when they returned his greeting. He ushered them
inside. They followed him through the house, emerging
on the back porch. 

The party was well underway. Burgers sizzled on the
grill, filling the air with the heavenly smell of
charred beef. A picnic table was filled to overflowing
with food, to which Harm and Mac added their own
contributions. Gunny and a pretty brunette sat on one
side of the table, talking with Bud and Harriet and a
couple of people Mac didn't recognize. Sturgis and
Bobbi Latham stood off to one side with Sergei,
Lauren, and Jason, among others.

Harm left Mac's side to greet his brother with a hug.
Sergei had been scarce lately. He had gotten his U.S.
pilot's license and was now flying a Lifeflight
helicopter for one of the big D.C. hospitals. Mac
smiled to see Harm with his little brother. Sergei was
so good for him.

Mac drifted through the group, greeting friends and
introducing herself to those she didn't know. An
observant woman, Bobbi Latham took note of the
engagement ring at once. 

She raised an aristocratic eyebrow in silent question.
"I didn't realize congratulations were in order."

Mac looked between the Congresswoman and Sturgis,
debating her response. From the smirk on Sturgis'
face, she concluded he had deliberately left Bobbi in
the dark and was waiting to see how Mac broke the news
to her.

"Yes, Harm and I are getting married," Mac answered,
and had the satisfaction of seeing the other woman's
jaw drop.

Bobbi coughed lightly, regaining her composure. "Ahem.
Really? That's wonderful. When is the wedding?" 

Beside her, Sturgis was fighting not to laugh. Mac met
his gaze, daring him to give the game away. "June
19th," she answered.

Bobbi smiled at Mac. "Well, all I can say is, it's
about time!"

At that, Sturgis burst out laughing. Mac dropped her
gaze, suddenly cold. Bobbi couldn't know how deeply
her comment cut. In fact, she was looking between
Sturgis and Mac with apprehension, obviously realizing
she'd said something unwelcome.

A hand touched Mac's hip, bringing an instant flush of
warmth. The hard knot in her stomach relaxed a notch
as Harm stepped up behind her, giving her a gentle
hug. Mac glanced up at his face, needing his smile to
chase away the cold fear in her heart.

What am I doing? she snarled at herself. This is all a
game. A fairy tale. I can't take this as reassurance
that he really loves me! But she was, and she knew it.

"Will you excuse us?" she asked Bobbi. She turned to
Harm. "We need to talk."

Leaving a disturbed Bobbi Latham behind, Mac led her
partner into the house and through it-- to the porch.

Harm watched her with a concern that deepened as he
took note of the location. "What's up, Mac?" His voice
was wary.

Mac crossed her arms and walked to the banister to
stare out at the lawn. "I'm not sure I can do this."

"This, today? Or this, the entire investigation?"

"Either. Both." She bit her lip. "I don't know."

"What did Bobbi Latham say to you?" Other than his
voice, Harm didn't make a sound. He tended to go very
still whenever they had these kinds of conversations.
He did an impressive boulder impersonation. Mac hadn't
yet managed to bully him into anything. She was
learning not to try.

Mac shook her head tiredly. "It doesn't matter." 

She gathered her courage and turned to face him. There
was one question she had to have the answer to. 

"Harm, the last time we were here… Why did you let me
walk away?" She remembered clearly the passion and
longing with which he'd kissed her that night. All he
would have had to do was say the word and she would
have gone to him, gone with him, and never looked
back. Surely he knew that.

As the guards sprang into place in his eyes, she had
her answer. He knew. Bitter anger rose in her throat.
"How can you do this?" Her hands clenched at her
sides, echoing her feelings.

"Do what?" He stood there, his posture deceptively
casual. 

"This!" Mac spread her arms. "This-- this-- Jekyll and
Hyde act. This game. This farce. How can you hold me
and kiss me-- and don't you dare tell me it isn't
real, because I know better--" She pointed a finger at
his chest. "--and then, like it's on some kind of
switch, just go back to where all of that is off
limits." 

Harm stared at her, and for a minute she was afraid he
wouldn't answer. Then he sighed. "There aren't any
consequences in a game, Mac." His eyes were serious,
shadowed. "That's why we play them."

Mac stared at him in dawning fury. Was he using her?
"Consequences? Are you really that afraid of
responsibility, Rabb? Or are you just so selfish you
run away from anything that might possibly be
meaningful so you won't have to risk losing that
precious self-control of yours?"

Pure, bald anger flared in his eyes. "You're out of
line, Mac." The words were cold.

Mac wanted to hit him. Anything to break through that
rigid wall and get a true, honest, uncontrolled
reaction from him. Anything that would prove she'd
gotten all the way to his heart.

A muscle in his jaw knotted as he clenched his teeth.
"You have no idea what you're talking about. You act
like all we have to do is say the magic words and we
can ride off into the sunset and live happily ever
after. It doesn't work that way!" His voice rose on
that last, and he paused. She watched him fight for
control. When he had it, he continued in a deceptively
mild voice, "It isn't that simple." 

"Yes, it is!" Mac leaned back against the banister,
wrapping her arms around her waist for comfort.
"Commitment is a pretty simple concept. That doesn't
mean it's easy, but it is simple." The obvious example
leapt to mind. "You're a career officer, Harm. How can
you make lifelong, do-or-die commitments to the Navy
but not to me? Or any woman, for that matter?"

Harm looked up, out over Mac's head. His gaze grew
distant. "The Navy is an institution, Mac," he said
patiently, as if explaining something to a child.
"It's not as… fragile as people are."

Mac stared at him as the pieces cascaded into place.
Suddenly she understood. 

When Harmon Rabb, Sr. had gone down in Vietnam, it had
taught his young, adoring son that people couldn't be
trusted, even if they loved you. Sometimes they left
and didn't come back. Maybe, she thought, Harm might
have gotten over that once he grew up, but the woman
he'd given his heart to as a young man-- Diane-- also
died, cementing the conviction.

And here I am, the spitting image of the only woman he
ever allowed himself to love. Mac wasn't foolish
enough to believe Harm only saw her as a reflection of
Diane. But she could imagine a little voice inside him
whispering that this one, too, would only leave. He
might even hold the secret fear that she would die
because he loved her.

Mac stared up at her partner's empty-eyed gaze. She
finally held the key that unlocked the mystery of
Harmon Rabb, Jr. She just wished she knew what to do
with it.

Her anger drained away as quickly as it had come.
Quiet tears followed. For him. For them. She reached
out to wrap her arms around his waist and laid her
cheek against his chest. After a moment, his arms
folded around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry, Mac." She felt his breath against her
neck. "I don't think I can be what you want me to."

Mac wiped her tears. She was nothing if not tenacious,
and proud of it. "Don't wimp out on me now,
Commander," she told him.

His answer was a strained chuckle. He continued to
hold her close.

"Are you ready to go back to the party?" he asked
after a while. "People are going to start to wonder
what happened to us."

"Yeah." Mac straightened and summoned a bright smile.
"The Admiral did want a demonstration, didn't he?"

He touched her cheek. "Are you o.k. with that?" His
gaze was frank.

She shrugged. "We have a job to do."

"That wasn't what I meant."

Mac looked into his face. "I know." She sighed,
resigning herself to the moment. "You answered my
question, which is what I really needed. I can 'be
o.k.' with the rest of it."

They stared at each other for several long moments.
Then Harm bent down to kiss her with a gentle
intensity that made her chest ache.

"Just getting back in character?" she asked when they
parted.

He shook his head. "Not here." He cocked an eyebrow at
the weathered boards of the Admiral's porch, a hint of
wry humor creeping into his expression.

Mac nodded, accepting that. A five-foot by five-foot
square of wooden planks where they could be completely
honest wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. 

She summoned a grin. "Well, shall we go scandalize our
co-workers?"

Harm chuckled. "I'm game if you are."

 
Chapter 10

Harm and Mac sat side by side in one of the
interrogation rooms at JAG. Across from them, the two
Naval reservists accused of rape watched them
nervously. The two men's lawyers sat to either side of
their clients. Harm and Mac were the only ones in
uniform, which suited Harm fine. The reservists seemed
properly intimidated at the prospect of being
interviewed by both a Commander and a Lieutenant
Colonel. The lawyers were, too, but did a better job
of hiding it.

"Let's go through the events of 12 July one more
time." Mac split her gaze evenly between the two
defendants. She often took the lead when they
interrogated men accused of sexual misconduct. The
accused didn't seem to be able to lie as effectively
to a woman in that situation. Besides, Mac was just
plain good at her job, whatever the circumstances.

"Yes, ma'am," the two answered meekly.

"You said Tony Ariel set up the… rendezvous with Mrs.
Antony. Exactly how did that happen?"

The more outspoken of the reservists-- a Charles Brown
(not Charlie, he was quick to say)-- glanced at his
lawyer for permission, then answered, "Well, ma'am,
Jessica-- Mrs. Antony had been sending both of us
notes and stuff though Mr. Ariel already--"

"What kind of notes?"

Charles shrugged, his gaze fixed on the table. "That
she wasn't going to stay with her husband and maybe,
when the show was over we could get together. Not
before then, of course, 'cause they wanted to win the
prize."

"You and she could get together?" Mac asked.

The man glanced up at her. "And Paul." He indicated
his friend.

Harm and Mac shared a look. "She was specific about a
threesome?" Harm asked.

"Yes, sir." 

"What did you think of that?" Mac asked them.

Charles flushed. "We didn't really know what to think,
ma'am."

"But when she set it up for you to meet her in one of
the empty cabins, you both went." Mac watched the two
men intently.

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Ariel's instructions were to go along
with anything the contestants wanted. That was part of
the job." He shrugged again. "We figured she'd given
up on the million dollars for some reason."

"What did you find when you got there?"

"Just Jessica. She was layin' in bed, waiting."

"Was she restrained in any way?"

"No!" Charles was emphatic.

Mac made a note and went on, her face expressionless.
"What made you think she was waiting for you?"

"She'd put candles all over the place and there was
music playing and stuff."

"Did she say anything?"

"No, ma'am."

"Nothing at all?"

"No, ma'am."

"Didn't you find that odd?"

Charles made a vague gesture. "Maybe a little, ma'am,
but… well, she only seemed to have one thing on her
mind, if you know what I mean."

"Mrs. Antony claims she was drugged. Did you see any
indication of that?"

"No, ma'am. She seemed to know what she wanted."

"So you're convinced the incident was consensual."

"Yes, ma'am. Absolutely."

Mac switched directions. "What about the notes you say
she sent to you? Did either of you keep them?"

"No, ma'am. We always threw them overboard. Jessica
said to. She didn't want her husband to find out."

"She said to throw them overboard-- in her notes?"

"No, ma'am. Mr. Ariel said that's what she wanted."

"Did you ever talk to Mrs. Antony about this subject
in person?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did you try to talk to her about it?"

"No, ma'am. We figured that would be too risky for
her, what with all the cameras around."

"Did you talk to Mr. Ariel about it?"

Charles nodded. "Once. I was feelin' a little weird
about… everything… so I asked Mr. Ariel what we should
do. Like, if she started somethin' and then decided to
back out-- that kind of thing."

"What did he say?"

Charles kept his gaze fixed on the table in front of
him. "He said to try really hard to convince her to go
through with it, and to take it… you know… all the
way… if she was willing, but to make sure not to do
anything unless she made the first move."

Mac tapped her pen lightly on her papers. "Did you
follow that advice?"

"Didn't need to. Ma'am." Charles looked up for a
moment. "Like I said, she seemed to know what she
wanted."

"All right. Thank you for your time, gentlemen." Mac
rose to leave. Harm copied her.

Outside the door, Mac turned. "Do you believe them?"
she asked. Together they set off for their offices.

"I think they're telling the truth as they perceived
it." Harm shortened his stride to match hers. Mac
didn't like having to trot to keep up with him.

"But she might have been drugged."

He shrugged. "Maybe. There's circumstantial evidence
to support her claim. The tape from the ship seems to
support the reservists' story, but it's incomplete and
the sound quality is poor. There's no telling if she
said anything or not."

Mac frowned up at him. "All it would take is a single
'no'."

"There's also the question of why the quality is so
bad when this was a professional recording done for a
television broadcast."

Mac snorted. "'Professional' might be too strong a
word. But, you do have a point."

Harm looked at his partner, feeling a familiar
protective tug. He knew better than to say anything,
though. Mac could take care of herself as well as
anyone, and disliked it when people tried to protect
her. He was just glad he would be on the cruise with
her, to watch her six. 

Mac seemed oblivious to his thoughts. "Are you going
to be ready to go by five?" she asked. Today was their
last day in uniform until the got back from the
Caribbean. They were becoming too easily recognized to
keep working at JAG. It was an odd feeling.

"Yeah. I have a couple of files to go over with
Sturgis and then I'm done." After that, they'd be on a
flight to L.A. for some talk show appearance. He
couldn't remember which one. 

They reached the familiar confines of the bullpen. Mac
flashed him a quick grin. "Great. I'll see you then."

#

Mac browsed through one of the many little boutiques
that lined the concourse at Dulles while she waited
for Harm to come back with the coffee. This store was
a newsstand, filled with books, magazines and
newspapers, as well as the obligatory racks of
T-shirts and other gewgaws. Mac wanted something to
read on the plane. 

She picked out a novel that didn't look too sordid--
and which didn't have a steamy cover for Harm to tease
her mercilessly about-- and headed for the checkout
line.

While she was standing there, a familiar face caught
her eye. She paused, realizing with a start that it
was her own that stared back at her from the cover of
People Magazine along with the rest of the cast of
Temptation Cruise II. Smiling to herself, she grabbed
the top copy. It would be interesting to see what the
article had to say.

After she'd paid for the magazine, she slipped it into
a pocket of her carry-on bag. Mac was hoping to get a
look at the article before Harm saw it. She wanted
first crack at the teasing rights for once.

#

It was nearly midnight on the West Coast when they
checked into their room at the airport Hilton. That
put it at 3:00AM in Washington. Harm noted without
reaction that there was only one bed. Well, it wasn't
the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last.
They had an agreement worked out, at least for the
duration of this assignment. At the moment, he was too
tired to care, anyway.

He grabbed the case containing his toiletries and
headed for the bathroom while Mac started unpacking.
He didn't bother trying to tell her it could wait
until morning. She wouldn't go to bed until everything
had been either hung up or placed in the dresser
drawers beneath the television, no matter what time it
was. 

When he emerged, Mac was still at work so he pitched
in to help her get everything put away. Then she took
her turn in the bathroom. Harm changed into the shorts
that were his normal nighttime wardrobe and gratefully
climbed beneath the covers. The alarm clock was on his
side of the bed, he noted, and forced himself to roll
over to examine it.

"Hey, Mac," he called over his shoulder. "What time is
this thing tomorrow?"

"Not until two," she answered from the bathroom, her
voice muffled by the closed door.

"I'm setting the alarm for nine, then. That seem
reasonable to you?"

"Sounds good." Her voice cleared as she stepped out of
the bathroom and walked to the bed. She was wearing a
short, though not particularly revealing satin
negligee. Harm liked that one. He spent about half a
second admiring her, then decided the need for sleep
outweighed the chance to ogle her legs. He would get
another opportunity in the morning.

He turned out the light as she slipped into bed beside
him. He was aware of her presence, but didn't try to
move closer to her. They had agreed that they were
both adults enough to sleep in the same bed without
making a big deal over it. They couldn't risk having a
maid see evidence of them not sharing the bed and
blabbing the story to the nearest rag magazine. And
if, on occasion, he woke to find Mac nestled against
him, that, too, was something they didn't fuss over.

With a soft sigh, Harm closed his eyes and let sleep
take him.

#

Harm woke to the sound of Mac's laughter. He opened
his eyes to find her sitting up in bed beside him,
reading a magazine. Sunlight streamed through the
windows, painfully bright. He groaned.

"What time is it?"

Mac glanced over at him, still chuckling. "0843 local.
I didn't mean to wake you."

Harm pulled himself to a seated position. In the
process he peered curiously at the magazine Mac was so
obviously enjoying. She flicked it away, hiding the
article she was reading. She grinned mischievously.

"Ah ah. You can read it when I'm done."

"What is it?" He made a play at reaching for the
magazine. Mac snatched it out of his reach, holding it
at arm's length.

"It's the People article about the show." She fended
him off with one hand. "And my oh my, do they have
some interesting things to say about you, flyboy." Her
grin widened as she dangled the magazine well off the
edge of the bed, beyond his reach.

Laughing at her challenge, Harm lunged for it. His
hand closed on her wrist at about the same time he
realized he'd committed too much of his weight to the
endeavor. Mac instinctively grabbed him as they
overbalanced, but only succeeded in sending herself
with him over the edge of the bed. She shrieked as
they tumbled to the floor in a cascade of bedding and
laughter. There they grappled for the magazine, Mac's
superior hand-to-hand skills negating Harm's height
advantage.

With a triumphant cry, Mac slithered out of his grasp
and leapt back onto the bed. She knelt at the center
of the expanse, magazine held up to keep it out of
easy reach. Trying to catch his breath, Harm climbed
to his feet and considered his next move.

Breathless herself and still laughing, Mac started to
read. "In this reporter's opinion, the hottest hunk on
the cruise is coincidentally its oldest." She grinned
wickedly at Harm. "Hear that, you're old." 

"But hot," he answered with a grin of his own.

She ignored him. "Meet Harmon Rabb, a lawyer at a
small D.C. firm. He is also a pilot, a musician, and
quite possibly one of the year's sexiest men."

And didn't that sound good coming out of Mac's mouth.
Harm decided to take the direct approach. He tackled
her.

Her exclamation of surprise turned into another gale
of giggles as they hit the bed. This time, with Mac
pinned beneath him, Harm had little trouble using his
additional reach to snatch the now mangled magazine
from her hand.

"Hey!"

Grinning exultantly, he looked down at her. Mac's
brown eyes had turned cinnamon-colored in the morning
sunshine, and sparkled with laughter. Her dark hair
fell about her face in tousled disarray, making her
all the more beautiful. Harm wanted to kiss her and
never, ever stop.

Instead, he rolled over onto his back, holding the
copy of People up where he could read it. To his
surprise, Mac followed him. She lay on her stomach and
folded her hands on his chest, laying her chin on
them. It was as if they had both returned to reality--
but were choosing to ignore it for a little while.

"Sarah MacKenzie," Harm read. "Age 34. This is a woman
who knows what she wants, and how to get it. She has
beauty to match her brains-- Heh. They're not
kidding," he added. Mac poked him in the ribs and he
chuckled. "And a fiery temper to complete the set. An
expert kickboxer, she is both strong enough and
aggressive enough to take on any man, which leads to
the question of who will end up ruling the roost in
the Rabb household. Hmmm." He raised his head to look
at Mac, curious to see her reaction.

To his relief, she was still smiling, though the
expression was thoughtful. "Do you think we would?"
she asked after a moment. "Turn a marriage into a turf
war, I mean."

Harm lay his head back down on the bed and studied the
ceiling as he thought. One of Mac's least endearing
traits was the way she tried to bully him whenever she
started feeling insecure. "I think it would be an
issue we'd have to deal with," he answered at last.
"We're both pretty strong willed."

"And stubborn," she added. A minute later, she sighed.
"You know, I think I just figured out why I couldn't
really love Mic."

Harm tried not to tense at the sound of Brumby's name.
"Why's that?"

"Because he let me push him around. He wouldn't stand
up to me. You and I, we spit and snarl and fight over
just about everything… but at least I know what you
really think."

Harm digested that, uncertain what direction to take.
He decided to lighten the mood a bit. "Just so you
remember that I'm Batman."

She chuckled, then raised herself onto her elbows to
look into his face. "I know I don't act like it
sometimes, but I wouldn't want it any other way,
Harm."

Without thinking, Harm set the magazine down, then
reached up to brush a stray hair from her face. His
fingers lingered on her cheek. Mac tipped her head a
fraction, turning toward the caress. 

They recognized what was happening at the same time.
Mac's gaze flicked to the clock. "We should get
going."

"Yeah."

Slowly, regretfully, they disentangled themselves. The
moment wasn't exactly awkward, but they had lost the
perfect, happy ease of the earlier time. He watched
Mac walk off toward the bathroom, the hem of her
nightgown swishing about her thighs.

Reality sucks, he thought sourly.


Chapter 11

Harm and Mac's lives became a whirlwind as the cruise
date neared. They never referred to it as the wedding
day-- not aloud, at least. Between the interviews and
television appearances with the rest of the cast, the
hours with Steiner's staff learning just exactly what
would be going on during the six weeks at sea, and a
multitude of appointments with costuming to get an
entire wardrobe put together (not to mention a wedding
dress, in Mac's case), the two had little time to
contemplate the future.

It didn't really hit Mac until they were standing in
the lobby of their hotel in Tampa, waiting for
Sturgis, Bud and Harriet to arrive from the airport.
The show provided transportation and lodging for a
best man and maid of honor for each couple, which
Sturgis and Harriet had both happily agreed to. Bud
had opted to come with his wife. Mac accepted it all
as gracefully as she could. She wasn't sure how many
witnesses she wanted to this thing. One part of her
wanted to shout, I'm getting married tomorrow! and do
a little jig right there in the lobby. The rest wanted
to curl up in a little ball and cry because she wasn't
getting married tomorrow-- not in the way that counted
most.

Harm squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the
present. "There they are."

Mac looked toward the hotel's gilded front doors. She
spotted Sturgis's tall figure immediately, and right
behind him Bud and Harriet. To her surprise and
dismay, Admiral Chegwidden, Sergei, and Victor
Galindez entered with them.

Please don't tell me I have to do this in front of the
entire office, Mac thought as they went to greet their
friends. She embraced Harriet as Harm shook hands with
the men and hugged his brother.

"So… A.J…" Harm drawled with a sly smile. They would
not be using ranks tonight. "What are you doing here?"

The Admiral grinned impartially at the two of them.
"Are you kidding? We--" He indicated Victor and
Sergei. "--wouldn't miss this for the world." His
expression sobered for an instant. "Besides, I brought
something for you two… for the honeymoon."

Mac studied Chegwidden. He obviously wasn't talking
about edible underwear or any other such traditional
newlywed fair. Harm caught the suggestion as well,
acknowledging the Admiral with a nod. They would talk
about it later in one of the rooms where there were
fewer ears to overhear.

"Have you all had dinner yet?" Mac asked.

"No. Our flight left too early to serve dinner. I
don't know about anybody else, but I'm starving!"
Harriet said.

"Maybe after everyone is checked in, we can meet for
dinner, then. The restaurant in the hotel here is
pretty good…" Harm trailed off as his gaze fixed on
the glass doors fronting the hotel. 

"Harm?" She looked toward the hotel entrance, but
didn't immediately see cause for concern.

"What is my mother doing here?" Harm shot the Admiral
an accusing glance, but Chegwidden only shrugged.

A moment later, Mac spotted Trish and her husband.
They came through the front doors and walked toward
the group, hand-in-hand. Trish waved cheerfully when
she spotted them.

Harm flashed his parents a guarded smile. "Hi, Mom,
Frank." He bent down to let his mother wrap her arms
around his neck in a huge hug. "What are you guys
doing here?"

"Don't be silly, Harm. Of course we came." She waved
the unspoken protest away and turned to Mac, taking
both her hands in greeting. "It's good to see you,
too, Mac. You look lovely."

Mac smiled despite herself. "Thank you." She could see
the glimmer of tears in the older woman's eyes and
wondered if she, too, were having trouble remembering
this wasn't real. 

Trish went on to hug Sergei with the same deep
affection she'd shown her son. Harm introduced his
stepfather, Frank, to the rest of the JAG crew. Frank
and the Admiral immediately fastened on the topic of
fly fishing while Trish pumped Sergei for information
about how he was settling in D.C. 

Harm and Mac exchanged helpless looks. Well, Mac
thought, your family was supposed to be there for your
wedding, right?

#

It had gotten late by the time everyone gathered for
dinner. Sturgis arrived with his carryon still slung
over his shoulder. He tucked it carefully beneath his
chair as he sat.

"What's in the bag?" Harm asked.

Sturgis grinned. "You'll find out."

Harm and Mac exchanged looks. "I'm not sure I like the
sound of that," Harm told her in an undertone. She
smiled wanly.

Harm looked at her with concern. "Is everything all
right, Mac?"

Mac forced herself to nod. Everything was not all
right, but there wasn't anything to be done about it.
She felt his hand on her waist, guiding her to her
chair. The touch sent shivers up her back that had
nothing to do with the heavy air-conditioning inside
the hotel. She wanted him with a depth of passion that
was, in itself, a little scary, but she was far more
afraid of having him without the security of a
commitment she knew he was unwilling to make. Losing
him would leave too many wounds in her heart. Whoever
had said it was better to have loved and lost, she
thought, was clearly out of his mind.

There was quite a bit of banter at the table, which
Mac did her best to join in on. Harm tolerated the
teasing good-naturedly, and in return razzed Bud and
Harriet mercilessly every time they had to address one
of the higher ranking officers at the table by name.
Midway through the meal, a young woman approached the
group, introducing herself as a reporter for
Entertainment Weekly. Another woman trailed her, bulky
camera in hand.

"Do you mind if we take some pictures?" the first
woman asked, displaying a perfect smile.

"Help yourself." The Admiral waved expansively.

Mac quickly stuffed her darker thoughts away. It was
time to act her part. She leaned into Harm, smiling
for the camera, and felt his lips brush her hair.

A few moments later, Sturgis leaned forward, tapping
his fork against his wineglass. The table quieted, and
even the photographer paused as everyone turned to
look.

Sturgis rose. "I think I'm going to take this
opportunity to fulfill my duty as best man and make a
toast to the happy couple." There were several pleased
exclamations, though whether those were genuine or for
the reporter's benefit, Mac couldn't guess. While the
smattering of talk died down, Sturgis snagged a
passing waiter and spoke to the man in a low voice for
a moment. The waiter then nodded and left.

"Harm, what is he doing?" Mac murmured into her
partner's ear, a smile plastered to her face. They
hadn't planned to do any of the traditional
pre-wedding things, for obvious reasons.

"I have no idea," Harm answered in the same low tone.
"But I'm sure it'll end up embarrassing at least one
of us, if not both."

"He does realize I've been trained to kill people with
my bare hands, doesn't he?"

Harm chuckled. "If you'd like, I can hold him down
while you remind him."

That started Mac laughing. She muffled it with one
hand.

"Well, as you all know, Harm and I are friends from
way back." Sturgis swept his gaze around the table,
ending up with Harm and Mac. "We went to college
together--"

"Where, I've heard, you two got into quite a bit of
trouble," the Admiral interjected.

Sturgis grinned. "That we did. Harm kept coming up
with these harebrained schemes--"

"Me?" Harm gave his friend a mock glare. "Who was it
that thought an unannounced fireworks display in the
quad would be a good idea for Veteran's Day?"

Mac laughed as the Admiral winced. They all knew the
two had gone to the Naval Academy together, and what
the reaction to unexpected explosions would have been
there, Mac could easily imagine. 

"Anyway," Sturgis went on with a grin. "We were always
getting into some kind of trouble, but the amazing
thing was how often Harm managed to talk us out of it
with that golden tongue of his." He winked at his
friend. "The legal profession is definitely the place
for you, buddy."

"Gee, thanks."

"Is this story going anywhere, Sturgis?" the Admiral
asked, putting a little extra emphasis on Commander
Turner's given name.

"Why, yes it is, A.J." Sturgis returned without
batting an eye. The JAG personnel snickered at the
expression that flickered across the Admiral's face.
Sturgis turned back to his audience.

"Harm and I were Sophomores, I believe. We'd just
finished our semester finals, which, for various
reasons, neither of us was certain we'd be present
for, let alone pass. But we did, so we decided to
celebrate-- in style." Sturgis grinned at the memory.
"We plunked down fifty bucks a piece on a very nice
bottle of scotch which neither of us was old enough,
at that point, to drink." A few people shook their
heads and made tsking sounds. Sergei looked a bit
baffled, but the concept of being too young to drink
was an unfamiliar one to the Russian.

Sturgis' grin widened. "It gets better. Not only did
we buy this bottle of scotch, but, in all our infinite
wisdom, we decided to take it back to the dorm to
drink it."

"You got caught, I hope." Trish eyed her son and
Sturgis as if debating which one to take to task
first. 

"Yes, ma'am, we did," Sturgis assured her. "By
possibly the biggest, meanest instructor in the
school. He was at least three inches taller than Harm,
and probably weighed as much as the two of us
combined." Sturgis mimed a hulking muscleman. "So he
stands there, glowering, and demands to see what we
have in the bag." Mac had no trouble envisioning the
scene and chuckled. She'd met some pretty scary drill
instructors in her time.

Sturgis shrugged. "So of course, I show him. I figured
we were dead. The instructor, he takes this deep
breath, like he's getting ready to blast us… and then
Harm jumps in."

"Uh oh…" Mac grinned at her partner, who was staring
at Sturgis in a kind of mystified horror.

"Mr. Innocent, there, starts into this big spiel about
how we two underage fellows surely wouldn't spend a
hundred bucks on a bottle of scotch to drink it. Oh,
no. That, instead, we'd been talking about the
future-- particularly about women-- and debating
whether there was such a thing as fate. He tells the
guy this with a straight face, do you believe, and
then goes on to talk about soulmates and
predestination and grand designs and a whole bunch of
other romantic gobbledygook. He tells the instructor
that the scotch is for the day one of us finds the
perfect woman, proving once and for all that there is
such a thing as destiny.

"Now me," Sturgis went on, "I'm over there biting my
tongue to keep from laughing. But the instructor--
this huge gorilla of a man-- is all misty-eyed. He’s
nodding at everything Harm says, like he agrees with
every word."

"He let you go?" Bud asked Harm incredulously.

Laughing, Harm nodded. "He let us go." He switched his
attention to Sturgis. "I can't believe you remember
that!"

"Even better," Sturgis assured him with a sly grin. "I
still have the bottle of scotch." With that he bent
down to retrieve a dark brown bottle from the bag he'd
brought with him and set it on the table. The Admiral
picked it up, examining the faded label with an
expression of approval.

As if on cue, the waiter came back with a tray of
empty glasses, which he distributed around the table.
At Sturgis' request, he opened the bottle for them
before disappearing once again.

Mac and Harm both waited quietly while glasses were
passed and poured. Mac didn't take any, of course,
which didn't bother anyone. She was grateful her
friends understood her problem with alcohol and didn't
ever make her feel uncomfortable about it. So, when
Sturgis and the others raised their scotch glasses,
she lifted the plain tonic she'd been drinking and
waited to hear what he would say. The reporter
remained in the background, listening unobtrusively.
Mac was distantly aware of the flash and whir of the
camera as the photographer captured the event.

Sturgis regained their attention, his expression
growing solemn. "Today seemed like the appropriate
time to open this bottle." He focused on Harm and Mac.
"I had pretty much given up on the idea that there
might be such a thing as a perfect match… until I saw
you two together."

Mac bit her lip, her heart pounding. Beneath the
table, Harm's fingers tightened painfully around hers.
Sturgis wasn't playing to the camera, they both knew.
The look in his eyes was far too penetrating.

Sturgis's voice became contemplative. "And so, here is
my toast: Harm, Mac… you two have something that only
a few people will ever be so fortunate as to find.
Don't take it for granted. I wish you both a lifetime
of love and joy… and I can only hope that I will
someday be as lucky." He raised his glass. "To you
both."

"Hear, hear." The agreement echoed around the table,
accompanied by the clinking of glasses.

Mac risked a look at Harm. She wanted to see in his
eyes that Sturgis was right, that it was worth the
risk. Instead, when he met her gaze, his blue eyes
were shadowed and filled with a quiet apology. Bitter
disappointment filled her. 

"Are you even going to be able to make yourself say
the words tomorrow?" she asked in a fierce, angry
whisper. Without waiting to see his reaction, she
tossed her napkin on the table and stood, her throat
burning.

"Excuse me. I'm just going to go the ladies room for a
minute," she assured the group with a false smile. She
didn't really care where she went, so long as she
could have a few minutes of solitude in which to
compose herself. Otherwise, she'd never be able to
keep up the pretense.

Mac was nearly running by the time she reached the
restroom. As in many hotels, there was a small ante
room that boasted a settee and a counter lined with
gilt-framed mirrors. Mac sank onto the couch and laid
her head in her hands. She began to cry, unable to
contain the hurt any longer.

The door to the restroom opened. Mac heard footsteps
on the tiled floor, but didn't look up until she felt
the weight of another person settle on the couch
beside her. Embarrassed, she tried to dry her eyes as
Trish handed her a tissue. Harm's mother smiled
kindly.

"It's all right, dear. I don't think I've ever heard
of a bride who didn't cry at least a little on the day
before her wedding."

Mac stared at her, taken aback. For a moment, she
couldn't bring herself to continue the lie, no matter
who might be listening. "I'm not his bride and you
know it!"

At Trish's pained expression, Mac's anger crumbled.
She shook her head. "I'm so sorry to be putting you
through this, Trish. I know how much you want to see
Harm find someone…" She couldn't hold the other
woman's gaze and looked away.

Trish pursed her lips. "You don't think he has?"

Mac's throat closed painfully tight. She swallowed
hard against a fresh round of tears and shook her
head, unable to speak.

Trish's expression didn't change. "He loves you, you
know."

Mac nodded. "I know," she managed. She twisted the
tissue in her hands until it began to tear. "That
doesn't mean he's willing to commit to me."

Trish snorted sourly. "Well, if there's anything my
son is afraid of, that would be it," she agreed.

Mac looked up at her, surprised to find such a
sympathetic spirit in Harm's mother. 

Trish smiled at her. "To be honest, I wouldn't have
believed it, either, particularly with the rest of
what's going on." Mac understood she meant the
investigation. "Except for one thing."

Mac's heart stuttered a beat. "What?"

"This." Trish reached over to take Mac's left hand in
her own and turned it to display the engagement ring
she'd grown so accustomed to wearing. Mac looked at
her hand, then glanced questioningly at Trish.

"Ah. He didn't tell you, did he." It wasn't a
question.

"Tell me what?" Hope and suspicion warred in her
heart, fighting for dominance.

Trish smiled wistfully. She touched the ring. "Harm's
father gave this to me when he asked me to marry him."
She met Mac's gaze with an expression that was both
beautiful and sad. "When I decided to remarry, I gave
it to Harm… to give to his wife."

For a moment, Mac couldn't breathe. Her fingers curled
involuntarily around the ring that had suddenly taken
on so much meaning. 

"I wasn't even certain he still had it," Trish
continued, her tone reflective. "I hadn't seen it
since then."

Mac was struck by the inconsistency of the statement.
"What about Diane?" she blurted, then wondered if she
sounded like a jealous fool.

Trish chuckled. "No, he didn't give this ring to her.
Hmmm. That is interesting, isn't it? It never occurred
to me." She sighed, studying Mac intently. "You do
look like her. I remember Harm telling me how uncanny
the resemblance was, but I didn't believe him until I
saw you myself."

Mac chewed on her lip. "What was she like?" Am I
really a ghost of his past? She had convinced herself
otherwise long ago, but now the doubts resurfaced.

Trish patted her hand. "Diane was a lovely girl." Her
smile deepened. "But you, Mac… you're something truly
special. Harm is very luck to have you."

Mac felt a surge of gratitude toward the woman beside
her. On impulse, she hugged her. "Thank you."

Trish returned the embrace. "You're welcome, dear.
Now, shall we go finish dinner?"

Mac wiped her nose, sniffling. "I think I need a few
minutes."

"Of course." Trish gave her a gentle smile. "I'll head
back to make sure they don't send out a search party."

Mac nodded. When Trish was gone, she sat and stared at
the floor, her eyes idly tracing the carpet's fleur de
lis pattern. For some reason, Mic's voice kept
repeating in her head, telling her she only agreed to
marry him because she was afraid to be alone.

Is that what I'm doing now? she wondered. Is that why
I want this with Harm so much? The tissue in her hands
was quickly becoming a pile of lint. She went to throw
it away in a nearby trashcan.

No, she decided finally. I love him. It felt good to
admit that to herself, and she smiled. With everything
in me, I love him. I'm just angry because he's not
ready to love me the same way, yet. She stared at her
reflection in one of the oval mirrors. All her life,
Mac had dealt with the hurt and disappointment of
those she loved not returning that love they way they
were supposed to. Nothing she had ever done-- not
becoming a highly-decorated Marine officer, nor a
superb lawyer-- had ever made her parents love her the
way she wanted to be loved. Completely.
Unconditionally. 

In Harmon Rabb, she'd found one person who just might
love her that way, if he could overcome his own
demons. It was hard to hope, though, when she’d bee
hurt so often.

Mac sighed. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned,
it’s that I can’t make Harm do anything. Maybe I need
to be willing to be alone, and be patient, until that
time comes.

Resolved, she spent a moment touching up her makeup,
then headed back to the party.



Chapter 12

After everyone else had gone to bed, Harm, Mac,
Sturgis and Chegwidden gathered in the Admiral's room
to talk business. Harm was struck by how strange it
felt to be back in the real world. He hardly
remembered the last time it had seemed… inappropriate
to hold Mac's hand, or trail his fingers across the
back of her neck, or any of a dozen other small
demonstrations of affection that had recently filled
their everyday lives. 

At the moment, Mac was seated in one of the room's
plush chairs while Harm leaned against the edge of the
nearby desk. Sturgis occupied the end of the bed.

The Admiral rummaged through his luggage, eventually
emerging with two black, hard plastic cases which he
laid out on the bed next to Sturgis. 

"Wedding presents," he told Harm and Mac. With a
glance at his partner, Harm went to investigate. He
flipped open the first case to reveal a Beretta
nine-millimeter pistol with two clips and ammunition,
all packed in gray foam. The second case held a
military issue satellite phone with battery pack.

"Since you two will be totally incommunicado for the
next six weeks, I thought these might come in handy."
The Admiral hooked a chair with his foot and seated
himself. Harm closed the cases. 

"Should we make regular contact?" Mac asked.

Chegwidden shook his head. "No. Too risky. I wasn't
certain you'd have a means of using the satphone
without being observed, anyway."

Harm returned to his place by the desk. "The heads are
unmonitored, but that's about it. I don't totally buy
Steiner's promises about the cabin cameras."

"'Bathrooms', Harm." Mac glanced up at him. "'Head' is
a naval term. You're not supposed to know a lot about
boats."

"They're ships." The correction was automatic.

"See?" She grinned at him.

Harm accepted the demonstration with a rueful nod. He
was going to have to be careful. He'd lived at sea on
carriers for years while he was still a fighter pilot,
and had his own fair share of Navy pride.

The Admiral leaned forward. "The good thing about the
way they do this show is that we'll be able to keep
tabs on you just by watching the broadcasts." He knit
his fingers together in front of him. "The lag is
going to be about four days, though, which is why I
want you to have a way of making immediate contact if
you get into trouble." Temptation Cruise II would be
aired approximately "live" every Monday and Thursday
night. Tony Ariel and his staff would be on board the
ship with the contestants. They were responsible for
all the filming and also for sorting through the reams
of tape for interesting segments to forward to
Steiner's crew to assemble into the actual broadcast.

"What's the word on keeping Tony Ariel isolated?" Harm
asked. Steiner had assured them that he would have
total control over any media information or personal
contact the director had. The ports of call were
fairly remote locations, but each required a crew of
people to do preparatory set up, as well as catering
and other such behind-the-scenes support functions.
None of the JAG officers believed Harm and Mac's
covers would withstand media scrutiny for the entire
six weeks, so the threat of Ariel discovering who they
were was a credible one. It had already taken a few
favors in high places to keep the media from sniffing
down the right paths.

"Webb said he'd take care of it," the Admiral told
them.

Mac frowned. "The CIA doesn't usually get involved in
criminal investigations. It's a bit outside their
venue."

The Admiral smiled. "True. He's planning to run it as
a training op for some of his young agents. He said to
tell you both to consider it his wedding gift."

Harm gave a strained laugh. "You people are all having
way too much fun with this."

At that, Sturgis grinned. "I met Clayton Webb not too
long ago. Interesting guy. Did you know the CIA has a
pet name for this little outfit?" He made a circular
motion with one finger to indicate the four of them.

"Really?" The Admiral didn't sound thrilled. "What is
it?"

"They call you the Combat Lawyers. Apparently, the
three of you have seen a pretty significant amount of
action." 

Harm, Mac and Chegwidden traded looks. Yes, you could
probably say that, Harm thought. 

"Back to business," the Admiral said briskly,
dismissing the topic. "I called in a favor with the
Coast Guard. They're going to keep the Radiant Heart
under fairly close observation, so they'll be nearby
if you need them. I've programmed the phone with the
number for the watch office at MSO Tampa. They'll know
who you are."

Harm looked at Chegwidden in surprise. 

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Mac asked, beating him to
the punch. "Despite the fact that this is a rape
investigation, there's no evidence to suggest we'll
encounter any kind of violent behavior. According to
Mrs. Antony, she was drugged, not subdued."

"Call it a safety net." The Admiral leaned back in his
chair, stretching. "Between them, Steiner and Ariel
control everything that happens on that ship. I don't
want to take any chances."

"Understood, sir." Mac stifled a yawn.

Harm suddenly realized how tired he was. "Is there
anything else we need to know?" he asked the Admiral.

Chegwidden paused, then nodded. "One more thing." He
seemed suddenly uncomfortable, and Harm's stomach
knotted in trepidation.

Uh oh, here it comes, he thought.

The Admiral pinned the partners with a frank stare. "I
know this assignment has dipped into some pretty gray
areas for the both of you. Speaking personally, I have
no problem with anything you choose to do in this
situation. I have spoken briefly with my superiors
concerning some of the legal and ethical
ramifications, and have received assurances that
nothing that happens during the course of this
investigation will affect either your careers or your
positions at JAG."

Harm kept his attention focused on the Admiral to
avoid looking at Mac. Their working relationship had
always been an issue when it came to their feelings
for each other. In some ways it was the core of their
friendship, something they were afraid to sacrifice
even for love. Was the Admiral really saying they
could have both?

Chegwidden studied the two silent officers for a
moment, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose that's the
reaction I was expecting, but I thought it needed to
be said. Make of it what you will."

Harm and Mac both nodded.

Sturgis broke the awkward silence. "Hey, Mac. Do you
mind if I drag this guy out for a beer before calling
it an evening?" He pointed at Harm.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but gave Sturgis
a neutral smile. "Just don't keep him out too late."
She looked up at Harm. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy
day."

To Harm's surprise, there was no significant look
attached to the comment. Whatever pain she carried--
and Harm knew it was there. He wouldn't feel that
sharp stab of guilt if she didn't-- she wasn't lashing
out at him.

Instinctively, he reached out to stroke her hair. She
looked tired. "You going to bed?" 

"Yeah." She stood and went to retrieve the two cases
of equipment. "I'll go ahead and pack these with our
stuff. Goodnight, all." She nodded to the Admiral and
Sturgis, kissed Harm lightly, and left.

After the door clicked shut, Chegwidden turned to
Harm. "It's really none of my business, but you are a
fool if you let her get away, Commander."

Harm couldn't help a bitter laugh. "Yes, sir."

Sturgis stood. "Why don't we go get that beer."

Harm looked doubtfully at his friend. "You're not
going to lecture me, are you?"

Sturgis smiled. "Only if I have to, my friend. Only if
I have to."

#

"All right, spit it out." Harm stared at the bottle in
his hands rather than at his friend. They were seated
at the end of the hotel bar, well away from any other
patrons.

Sturgis gave him an innocent look. "Spit what out?"

Harm chuckled. "Nice try, Sturg."

The handsome black man laughed with him, but then his
humor died. "Do you love her?" he asked plainly.

Harm sighed. He was tired of trying to avoid that one.
"Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

Harm stared into the mirror behind the bar. "Who says
there's a problem?"

Sturgis laughed, the sound vaguely mocking. "If there
wasn't a problem, you'd both be glowing tonight.
Especially Mac. But the last time I checked, it looked
like the only reason she's still holding it together
is because she's too stubborn to quit."

Harm closed his eyes for a moment against the pain
that statement generated. "That's Mac," he agreed.

Sturgis turned to look at him, anger highlighting his
features. "I'm not going to have to hit you to get
through that thick skull, am I?"

Harm met his gaze. "No, Sturgis," he answered
patiently. "I hear you loud and clear." But how did he
explain the absolute, numbing terror he felt any time
he got close to this issue?

Sturgis gave him an evaluating look. "She's not going
to die," he said quietly.

Oddly, Harm wasn't surprised his friend had figured it
all out so quickly. He knew Harm's obsession with his
father's disappearance. He'd been there when Diane was
killed. He understood.

"She almost bled to death in my arms," Harm pointed
out. 

Sturgis wisely didn't try to argue the fact. "She's
not going to die," he repeated.

"You can't promise that. Diane did. Jordyn did." Harm
had to resist the urge to clench his hands into fists.
The fury he felt at the injustice of those deaths
hadn't dimmed with the passage of time. Neither had
the feeling that some part of himself had been torn
away.

Sturgis sighed. "Here's a different question for you,
then-- Do you think you will ever, in your lifetime,
find a better woman than Mac?"

Harm snorted. "No."

"Can you even imagine being with another woman after
her?"

"We're not lovers, Sturgis." The admission tasted
bitter on Harm's tongue. He glanced at his friend.

Sturgis shrugged. "Doesn't matter. And you haven't
answered my question."

Harm looked down at his beer. Could he imagine other
lips? A different smile? Another laugh? Some other
body molded against his, smelling of coffee and
cinnamon?

"No." He took a drink of his beer, deciding then that
self-pity really wasn't going to help. He cracked a
smile, trying to lighten his mood. 

"Being in love isn't supposed to be this hard, is it?"

Sturgis chuckled. "Having never been there myself, I'm
hardly qualified to say."

"So what would you do, if you were me?" He met
Sturgis' gaze.

Sturgis frowned as if the answer were obvious. "I'd
marry her and live happily ever after."

"Well, I don't suppose I've got a choice on that first
part." Harm bit his lip after he said it. There I go
with the self-pity again. He saw an answering flash of
anger in Sturgis' eyes.

"Oh, I think you have a choice," the other man told
him. "I don't think you're going to back out of the
investigation, so I guess you don't have much choice
whether or not to say the words… but you do have to
choose whether or not you're going to mean them."

Harm stared at his friend. The rebuke stung, though he
suspected he deserved it. All the years with Mac--
dancing precariously along the cliff edge between
friendship and love-- flashed through his mind. It
really had come down to this, hadn't it? One choice.
Jump or don't. In the past, not jumping had always
resulted in an acceptable status quo-- friendship with
the thought that, maybe, someday, they'd find their
way to that other place, the one at the bottom of the
long, scary drop. But now the cliff edge was
crumbling. They weren't going to be able to stay
balanced there much longer.

One choice. Harm stared at his reflection. It really
is pretty simple, after all. 


Chapter 13

Mac adjusted the fall of her long white skirt with
nervous fingers. The silk hem whispered across the
sand, barely heard above the gentle rush of waves
clambering up the shore. A breeze off the water kissed
her bare shoulders, tugging at the gossamer veil that
tumbled to the ground behind her. She breathed in the
salt-smell of the ocean and listened for a moment to
the piercing cries of gulls. The sun warmed her skin,
promising to become hot as the morning progressed. 

Beside her, Harm stood quietly. He'd been quiet all
morning-- subdued, even. Mac hadn't asked. She was
having trouble keeping her emotions in check already.
Fighting with him would only make the difficult
impossible.

Harm was dressed in a classic tuxedo. Mac detested it.
Not because he didn't look good in it, but simply
because it wasn't dress whites. Dress whites and gold
wings… In the wedding photos her mind conjured for
her, he was always clad in the dignified splendor of
his dress uniform.

She pushed the thought away with determination.
Dwelling on should-be's was a dangerous pastime. 

The minister, a grandfatherly man with a thick mane of
white hair, stood before them, Bible poised in his
hands. Mac was distantly aware of Harriet standing a
pace behind and to her right, and Sturgis off to
Harm's side. Harm's family, the Admiral, Bud and Gunny
watched from behind. Cameras ringed them. 

For Mac, the moment seemed frozen in time. She wanted
to scream at them all to stop! That this was wrong,
all wrong. But it was far too late for that. She had a
part to play. She had her lines memorized-- vows Bud
and Harriet had, mercifully, written for the two of
them. And so she would repeat the words, with ashes on
her tongue and bitterness in her soul, and wonder if
they could ever recover from this day.

The minister opened his mouth to speak the first words
of the ceremony. As he did, Harm suddenly came to
life. 

"Wait!" He held up one hand, forestalling the
minister. "Could you… just… hold that thought for a
minute?" 

The interruption jarred Mac. Heart pounding, she
turned to him, hardly daring to hope.

He grinned, showing his trademark little boy smile.
"I'll be right back." He released her arm, then turned
and walked away, cutting between Sturgis and the
surprised minister. His long strides took him quickly
down the beach, his head turning from side to side as
if he were looking for something.

Mystified, Mac looked at Sturgis. "Where is he going?"

Sturgis shook his head as he watched Harm's retreating
figure. "I hate to say it, Mac, but I think the stress
may have driven your man there around the bend."

For a moment, she was convinced Harm was just going to
walk away. But then he stopped, scooped something up
out of the sand and headed back. When he got close,
she discovered he'd fetched a long, slender piece of
driftwood.

Mac blinked. "A stick?"

"Yep."

"…"

"Patience, Mac." Using the tip of the stick, he drew a
long slash in the sand beyond the place where Sturgis
stood watching him with a bemused expression. Walking
backwards, he turned ninety degrees to continue the
line behind the minister, then up the side next to
Harriet, and across the back, completing a passable
square around the wedding party. Then, apparently
satisfied, he tossed the driftwood down on the sand
and returned to Mac's side.

She stared at him.

He winked, his blue eyes laughing. "Work with me here,
Mac. It's a porch." He spread his hands. "Best I could
do on the spur of the moment."

A porch. Their one and only place of honesty. 

He looked directly into her eyes, his voice soft. "I
told you I never make a promise I can't keep."

Mac couldn't breathe. In an instant, her world turned
inside out and upside down. Her heart soared.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" she asked him.

"No, you're not." Harm drew her close, his expression
growing serious. "I'm sorry it took me so long to
figure this out." He touched her cheek. "I love you."

Pure, joyous laughter bubbled up out of her. "I love
you, too, Harm."

She hooked her arms around his neck as he bent toward
her.

"Ahem."

Startled, they turned to look at the minister.

He smiled kindly at them, his eyes dancing with
amusement. "If you don't mind, I need to say a few
words first before we move on to the kissing part."

Mac ducked her head, laughing in embarrassment. 

Trying rather unsuccessfully to look decorous, Harm
hooked her arm through his and turned them to face the
minister. Mac gripped his arm with one hand and her
bouquet of roses with the other as if they were the
only things that kept her from floating away.

The minister straightened his shoulders, glanced at
the Bible in his hands, then looked out over the small
crowd. "Dearly beloved," he began in a solemn voice,
"we are gathered her today… on this porch, apparently…
to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony." 

"I'll be very interested to hear the story behind that
one," Mac heard Sturgis comment in an undertone.

The minister continued with the ceremony, explaining
the sanctity of marriage, admonishing both of them to
live up to the vows they were making, and promising
them God's blessing on the family they were becoming.
Mac clung tightly to Harm to keep herself upright.
Family. She hadn't thought beyond the turmoil of her
relationship with him to see the full implications of
marriage. She would have parents again… Frank and
Trish already treated her like a daughter, more so
than her own parents ever had. She would have a
brother-- sweet, loyal Sergei-- and she would have
Harm. Her husband. Her partner. Someday, the father of
her children. That was more family than Mac had ever
dreamed of having.

At the proper time Harm turned to Sturgis, accepting
from him a slender gold band. He turned back to Mac,
taking her hand. His gaze delved into hers, endlessly
blue.

"Sarah, I give you this ring as a symbol of my undying
devotion…"

He called me Sarah. The sound of her name had never
been sweeter, nor held so much meaning. 

"I promise to be your faithful husband, to love you--
and only you-- for all the days of my life…"

Tears misted Mac's vision as Harm slid the ring onto
her finger. His thumb brushed her palm, sending an
electric thrill up her arm. Then it was her turn.

"Harm, I give you this ring as a symbol of my undying
devotion…"

No matter how many times we've hurt each other, I
never doubted that you would be there for me when I
needed you, or that I would be there for you.

"I promise to be your faithful wife, to love you-- and
only you-- for all the days of my life…"

I've never loved anyone else. I never will.

She slipped the ring onto his finger with a smile that
nothing could dim. Hands clasped, they stared into
each other's eyes.

Nearly forgotten, the minister closed his Bible. His
voice rang out over them. "Therefore, by the authority
invested in me by the state of Florida, I now
pronounce you husband and wife." He leaned forward,
nodding conspiratorially. "Now it's the kissing part."

Laughing, they did exactly that. Mac threw her arms
around her husband's neck and felt his arms close
around her waist, nearly lifting her off the ground in
an expression of pure joy. His mouth fastened on hers,
sweet and intense. Mac responded hungrily, secure in
the knowledge that Harmon Rabb, Jr. was hers to love--
now and forever.

#


Harm was getting dizzy. He was alternately hugged and
pounded on the back by what seemed like an entire
horde of people, though he knew in reality there were
less than a dozen. 

"Buddy, you really had me worried for a minute,
there," Sturgis said after embracing Harm rather
forcefully.

Harm's smile dimmed for a moment. "Me, too." He
lowered his voice. "I almost made the biggest mistake
of my life today."

Sturgis' smile didn't change. "Considering some of the
stupid things you've done, that's saying a lot. But I
must say I agree." They both turned to look at Mac.
She stood a few feet away, talking animatedly with
Harriet, Harm's mother and Frank.

"What changed your mind?"

Harm stared at Mac for a moment. The white gown set
off the coppery tone of her skin and made her dark
hair and eyes glow. But it was her radiant smile that
captured him. He had never seen a pure smile from her,
one untouched by secret pain. Not until today.

He turned to look out over the water. "Have you ever
come to a point where you realized that what you were
about to do violated absolutely every principle of
honor or decency you thought you lived your life by?"

Sturgis nodded, his expression somber. "Yes, though I
was contemplating killing someone, not marrying them."
After a moment, his smile reappeared. "You're a lucky
man, Harm." He clapped him on the shoulder.

Harm grinned. "I'm not going to disagree with you
there."

The Admiral joined them on the heels of his statement.
Smiling with evident satisfaction, he laid a hand on
either man's shoulder. 

"Congratulations, Harm." 

"Thank you." It took an effort not to add the "sir"
that belonged on the end of the sentence.

The Admiral turned to Sturgis. "And congratulations to
you, too, Sturgis, for whatever you said in that
'lecture' of yours. It obviously worked."

Sturgis waved his words away. "I don't think I had
much to do with it."

While they talked, Selena began gently shooing them
all away from the ring of cameras so another couple
could take their turn. Harm shook his head at the
insanity of it. Only a couple of miles down the beach,
he could see the huge wharf complex and the white
silhouette of the Radiant Heart in her berth. 

"What have I gotten us into?" he muttered to himself.

A short distance away, Mac caught the direction of his
gaze and lifted an eyebrow. 

Harm went to stand beside her. "We don't have to do
this, Mac," he said quietly. "I'll take you anywhere
on the planet you want to go for a honeymoon-- just
name it."

She looked up at him, the warmth of her gaze tempered
by solemn consideration of his words. Finally she
shook her head. "I'd like nothing more, Harm. I really
would. But we have a million dollars to win," she said
in the same tone of voice she would have said, "We
have a job to do," had they been alone.

Harm hugged her gratefully. He would have abandoned
the investigation rather than risk his relationship
with Mac, but his conscience would have nagged him
incessantly had he done so. Mac understood him well.

After he and Mac had said their goodbyes and been
showered by the obligatory rain of birdseed (rice
being inappropriate because it tended to choke wild
birds), they climbed in their limousine for the short
ride to the cruise ship. Once inside, it took Harm
about twenty seconds to string together three very
important realizations: One, that Mac was now his
wife. Two, that they were alone in the back of the
limousine. And Three, that he had absolutely no reason
in the world left for not kissing her. So he did. Mac
responded ardently, as six years of repressed longing
found their first taste of freedom.

They were both breathless by the time the limousine
pulled to a stop. Harm took one look at the people and
cameras crowding around them and groaned. 

"Just a few more minutes?" He traced Mac's collarbone
with the fingers of one hand, then kissed the point of
her shoulder. "We're not going to get another chance
to be alone until tonight." Having wasted so many
years already, the additional delay seemed
excruciating.

Mac laughed deep in her throat, her gaze promising a
great deal once that time arrived. "Oh, but we mustn't
leave our public waiting," she joked, affecting a
starlet's breathy voice.

Harm gave her his best leer. "I'll make it worth your
while to have the driver go around the block a couple
of times."

"Mmmm. Tempting." Mac kissed him soundly. "But how
'bout we have him drive around the city a couple of
times and I'll make it worth your while instead?" 

"You know," Harm said when next his mouth was free,
"this brings an entirely new dimension to the idea of
negotiating plea bargains with you."

Mac laughed. "C'mon." She sat up, drawing him with
her. "I'm sure everyone out there is wondering just
what we're up to." She grinned as she fixed his tie. 

For a moment, her smiled dimmed. When he gave her a
questioning look, she slid her hands down the front of
his jacket and she shook her head. "Should've been
white," was all she said, though her eyes expressed
much more. They had finally found each other, but the
circumstances were far from perfect.

He cupped her cheek. "If we started counting
should've's, we'd be here all week," he told her
softly. "Which is more my fault than yours. I wish I
could go back and change those things, but all I can
do is tell you I love you, Sarah MacKenzie, and I
don't plan to ever let another 'should've' come
between us."

Mac stared at him for a moment. Then her face lit with
a smile. "It's Sarah Rabb, now." She wagged a playful
finger at him. "And don't you forget it." 

"Never," he promised, grinning.


Chapter 14

Harm and Mac emerged from the limo to a sea of faces.
At their feet, an actual, honest-to-goodness red
carpet ran up the steps to the doors of the wharf
complex. Gilded ropes held back the crowd of
well-wishers and fans, some of whom seemed
inexplicably delirious at the Rabbs' arrival.
Paparazzi lined the space inside the ropes, their
flashes half-blinding the two. Harm and Mac had
endured media storms before, during cases that had
drawn significant public attention, but luckily these
were entertainment reporters rather than their more
politically aware brethren.

"This is insane!" Mac hissed as they shouldered their
way through the crowd, ignoring the typically stupid
questions. "Don't these people have lives of their
own?"

"Almost makes you pity actors, doesn't it." Harm kept
one arm protectively around her as they made their way
inside, despite the fact that Mac could have cut an
admirable swath through the mass of people with a
judicious application of her Marine training. He often
wondered why he felt so tremendously protective toward
a woman who could generally take care of herself.

Inside, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.
They found Selena there ahead of them, waiting to lead
them to the Radiant Heart. The interior of the
building looked much like an airport concourse, with
cheap carpeting and rows of thinly padded chairs
grouped around the various terminals. Today the
building was empty save for a few security guards who
wandered about, looking bored.

Hand in hand, Harm and Mac climbed the gentle slope of
the boarding ramp. At the top, a group of stewards and
the captain of the ship waited for them in time
honored tradition. Harm knew he was supposed to stroll
onto the ship like any other ignorant civilian, but
his feet refused to obey. He hit the top of the ramp
and stopped, one step from boarding the Radiant Heart.
Mac paused, too, and looked questioningly at him.

Harm squeezed her hand by way of silent apology. He
nodded to the captain. "Permission to come aboard,
sir?"

The captain, a tall, distinguished looking man in his
mid-sixties, flashed them a warm grin. "Permission
granted." He held out his hand. "I'm Frederick Baxter,
Captain of the Radiant Heart."

Harm stepped aboard, feeling the subtle change as he
moved from land to ship. He took the proffered
handshake.

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain. I'm Harmon Rabb and
this is my wife, Sarah." Just saying the words made
something in him soar.

Mac shook the captain's hand as well, her expression
schooled. 

"The pleasure's all mine," Captain Baxter assured
them. "It's not often I meet a young person who knows
proper etiquette for boarding a ship. Usually it's the
old sea dogs like me."

Harm did his best to cover his tracks. He shrugged. "I
defended an 'old sea dog', as you call them, once. I
guess he made an impression on me."

The captain simply nodded and Harm and Mac followed
one of the stewards on into the interior of the ship. 

"That wasn't very bright," Mac murmured after they'd
gained some distance from the greeting party.

"Sorry, I just couldn't be that rude," Harm whispered
back.

Mac rolled her eyes, but then smiled. "Well, if
there's one thing I love about you, it's your sense of
chivalry."

Harm felt her words sink in. "Say that first part
again."

"What?"

"The part about you loving me."

Mac flushed, but her expression could have put a small
sun to shame. Together they paused, caught up in the
moment. 

Selena stopped a few paces away and folded her arms
across her stomach, doing her best to become part of
the furnishings. Her job was to be unobtrusive while
still getting her wards to their appointments on time.
It was her judgement that determined if this moment
should be allowed to continue uninterrupted, captured
by the cameras in the hall. And this interlude, she
decided, would make great t.v.

Mac looked up into Harm's eyes, her expression
appraising. After a few moments of that, Harm cocked
an eyebrow, knowing Mac would understand the question.

She smiled a bit wistfully. "I was just trying to
figure out when it was that I really fell in love with
you."

"Oh, really? When did you?" Harm asked with a sense of
delight.

She gave him a half smile. "I'm not sure. It was
sometime before Sydney, though." She shook her head.
"I was so hurt you turned me down that night."

Harm felt the familiar pang. "I thought we weren't
going to go counting should've's anymore."

Mac didn't react to the reproach in his voice. She
shook her head lightly. "I'm not sure that one counts.
It probably would have wrecked our careers."

"On the other hand, it would have kept you from
getting so involved with Brumby." Something he would
have done anything to prevent had he known how serious
the relationship would become. 

Mac heaved a sigh at the mention of Brumby's name.
"Well, I suppose I'm going to have to admit this
sometime, so it might as well be now." Her body
language shifted, took on a slightly defensive edge.

Harm watched her warily. "Admit what?" 

"That, subconsciously, at least, I got involved with
Mic in the hopes of making you jealous."

Harm didn't have an immediate answer. His thoughts
went back to the day Mac had shown up with a diamond
ring on her right hand. It had felt like a slap in the
face. Like a taunt. Which is exactly what it was, he
realized. 'Come and get me if you want me'. Pride had
made him back away. He'd seen the attempt at coercion
as a power play rather than a desperate act, but even
so, he wasn't certain he would have responded
differently.

Harm couldn't help the sharp edge to his voice as old
anger resurfaced. "It worked."

"Not well enough, obviously." She crossed her arms.

Harm kept a tight rein on his temper. "You were trying
to manipulate me, Mac. What did you want me to do?
Crawl on my hand and knees to your doorstep and beg
you to choose me instead of him?"

Mac gave him a look filled with bitterness. "No, the
mighty Harmon Rabb, Jr. would never stoop so low,
would he?" 

Harm nearly lost it. The flash of fury sent adrenaline
pouring into his system, demanding action. 

"You're still a mean drunk, Mac." The words came out
clipped, harsh.

Mac's head snapped back as if he'd slapped her. "What
is that supposed to mean?"

"It means the only time you ever accuse me of being
self-righteous is when you're dead wrong and don't
want to admit it." 

They glared at each other for a long moment. Mac
faltered first and looked away. She swallowed hard,
nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Harm's anger began to drain away. "Me, too."

Mac glanced at him, her dark eyes wounded. "For what?"

He shrugged. "For not kissing you senseless on that
ferry, for starters."

Mac smiled weakly. "I would have liked that." She let
out her breath in a gusty sigh. "Of all the days to be
arguing…" She shook her head sadly.

Harm's mouth twisted in a sour smile. "We've been
fighting like cats and dogs for six years, Mac. You
didn't think it was going to stop just because we got
married, did you?"

She snorted softly. "I suppose two miracles in one day
is a bit much to expect."

Harm caught her waist to pull her to him. "At least we
got the most important one," he said.

Mac molded her slender frame against him, tucking her
head beneath his chin. Harm hugged her and laid his
cheek against her hair. The tight bands around his
chest began to loosen.

"I suppose there's one benefit to fighting so much,"
Mac said against his chest, her tone thoughtful.

Harm looked down at her. "What's that?" he asked
cautiously.

She tilted her head back to look into his face.
"Making up." She grinned.

Harm felt a rush of pure relief. "Why, Mac, is that an
invitation?"

"Better believe it, flyboy."

Harm smiled at the challenge in her eyes. With a
flourish, he dipped her there in the empty passageway.
He was delighted by the easy way she committed her
weight to him, trusting him to keep them both balanced
as they kissed.

Mac laughed as he pulled her upright once again. Her
deep brown eyes threatened to drown him, a fate he
wasn't entirely certain he wanted to avoid.

"Can we officially declare this a fresh start?" Mac
asked after a moment. "Forget the past, wipe the slate
clean, that sort of thing?"

Harm dragged himself out of her eyes. "I'm not sure
ignoring the past is such a wise idea," he countered.
Denial hadn't done either of them any good that he
could see.

Her face fell by degrees. "There's just so much to
deal with." He could see the fear of more pain in her
eyes.

Harm was a little surprised by the strength of his
determination. But he never had backed down from a
promise once he made it. "We have the rest of our
lives to sort it all out, Mac."

"You think that'll be long enough?" she asked with a
ghost of a smile.

Harm grinned at her. "I guess we'll find out."

He was rewarded by a quiet laugh.

#

To Mac's dismay, the first contestants they ran into
onboard were Boothe Crossby and Carmen Esperanza.
Boothe greeted them both with a charming civility that
could have hidden anything beneath it. Carmen kept her
gaze almost exclusively on Harm, eyeing him as if she
wondered how he would taste roasted over a slow flame
with white wine sauce. Mac had to resist the urge to
shout "Mine!" and step protectively in front of her
husband. 

Mac supposed she shouldn't be too surprised by
Carmen's behavior. Harm obviously fit her "type". He
and Boothe had been stamped from similar molds… tall,
dark-haired, blue-eyed, and dangerously handsome, but
Boothe was ruthless in a way Harm was not. She found
that observation interesting since Harm could play
hardball with the best of them, whether in court or on
the battlefield. But, she had the feeling Boothe would
willingly cross any moral line to gain his objectives,
which Harm would never do.

Carmen she wasn't as certain about. The other woman
wore her sultry Latin beauty the way a whore wore her
clothes. Tawdry was the word that most often came to
mind. But she was paired up with a man like Boothe in
what was basically a fidelity competition, so there
had to be more to her than met the eye. 

Mac took the initiative. "So, how is married life
treating you so far, Carmen?" she asked in as friendly
a manner as she could manage.

Carmen smiled, showing a flash of white teeth between
succulent red lips. "No complaints yet. You?"

Mac grinned, figuring she could score more points with
the truth. "I think I'm in for a pretty wild ride,"
she confided. That got a flicker of reaction from
Carmen, though Mac couldn't identify the emotion that
fueled it. Jealousy, perhaps? If men were trophies,
then Boothe was the silver and Harm the gold, most
definitely. Mac doubted Carmen was used to having her
man outclassed.

Mac chuckled to herself. And we accuse men of being
territorial!

Together, the two couples made their way to the deck
to wait for the requisite waving and throwing of
streamers as the harbor tugs pulled them away from the
quay. Carmen and Mac traded bits of gossip as they
went. Unfortunately, collecting gossip was an
occupational hazard for Mac, but the skill served her
well now.

On deck, they met Jeb and Stacy as well as a
thirty-ish black couple named John and Delia
Washington. John was a professor at a community
college outside Memphis. Mac couldn't immediately
remember what Delia did. Interior design? Something
like that.

"Hey Cornpone!" Carmen greeted Jeb with the warmth of
an older sister to her favorite little brother. She
was a strange one, Mac thought. So far, her motives
remained obscure, and her reactions to people seemed
to vary by individual with no discernable pattern.

"Hi, Carmen." Jeb's greeting was more restrained. He
seemed to take a prudently suspicious view of the
older woman's friendly overtures. Stacy watched with a
narrow-eyed stare.

Well, Mac thought, if Carmen's goal is to antagonize
all the other married women on this cruise, she's off
to a good start. That wasn't a bad analysis of her
behavior, Mac decided after another moment's
contemplation. 

The four couples chatted for a while as they watched
the remaining limos make the trip from beach to the
wharf, speculating on various strengths and weaknesses
of the not-yet-arrived, and hashing out possibilities
for the first competition, which was only two days
away. The winners would be able to pick their spouses'
companion at their first port of call.

The thought of Harm going out with another woman, even
on a supposedly innocent day trip, made Mac's stomach
clench in sudden nausea. She grabbed the deck rail and
turned her face toward the ocean as she struggled to
regain her composure. There had been a lot of women
for Harm. Despite all her protests that it wasn't any
of her business and that she didn't really care, Mac
had kept a catalogue in her heart of each and every
one. There might have been a few she never knew about,
she conceded, but not very many. The most frightening
part was that Harm didn't chase women. He just didn't
often say 'no' to an invitation. 

Except for me.

"Hey, you o.k.?" Harm came to stand beside her. He
rested his elbows on the rail, throwing her a worried
glance.

Mac nodded quickly, trying to push her dark thoughts
away. "Yeah." She met his gaze briefly, summoned a
smile. "I'm starting to realize just what we've gotten
ourselves into."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Me, too."

Mac watched him intently. "You scared?"

The blue eyes lit with mirth. He leaned toward her,
his shoulder brushing hers. "Nah."

Mac smiled, though her heart remained heavy. "You mean
you're not particularly intimidated by the prospect of
battling off a ship full of dozens of beautiful women
who will be throwing themselves at you for the next
six weeks?" She kept her tone light.

He arched one eyebrow and gave her his famous smile.
"And how would that be different from regular life?"

Mac punched him lightly in the shoulder. "In your
dreams, flyboy."

Harm chuckled. "You're the one who's in my dreams,
Mac."

It was much-needed reassurance. Mac tilted her head
back, giving him one of her best come-hither looks.
"Ooh. Sweet talk will get you everywhere." It felt
strange to play this same old game, knowing that this
time there were no uncrossable lines to keep Harm from
taking her up on her offer.

He didn't disappoint her. Straightening, he closed the
distance between them. Their lips met, the touch
incendiary. Mac reached up to encircle his neck,
tangling her fingers in his hair as she pulled him
closer.

Distantly, Mac heard laughter, particularly Delia's.
"Hoo, you go girl!"

Laughing in embarrassment, Mac broke the kiss and hid
her face against Harm's chest for a moment, her cheeks
hot. She could hear his heart pounding beneath her ear
and felt the tension in his body that spoke to her own
of barely restrained passion. Mac's body answered in
kind, and only the presence of the other couples and
the two cameramen lurking in the near distance kept
her from further action. Her internal clock
immediately told her how many hours they had left to
wait until the cameras in their stateroom could be
turned off. After that, though…

Boothe's chuckle interrupted her lascivious thoughts.
"I do believe the Rabbs are going to present some
rather stiff competition for the rest of us," he said
in a dapper British accent, stroking an imaginary
mustache.

Mac laughed with the rest, particularly when Harm
added his own comments in her ear.

The rest of the day passed in agonizing slowness, but
pass it did. They stayed at the rail while the crew
cast off, then went inside to explore the main
portions of the ship, occasionally stealing kisses in
shadowed corners and out-of-the-way places. Dinner was
served in the Grand Ballroom, followed by dancing. Mac
had always enjoyed dancing with her partner, perhaps
because it had been the only acceptable outlet for
their attraction for so many years. But tonight it was
foreplay, and they both knew it. 

During the course of the evening Mac's emotions swung
from heated anticipation to nervous terror and back
again more times than she could count. Harm did an
admirable job of keeping her distracted with a running
commentary of lighthearted stories and jokes, though
she had the feeling they were meant to distract him as
much as her. Mac had to smile at the babble. Harm
tended to chatter like a demented bluejay when he was
nervous. 

They didn't leave the ballroom the moment the clock
struck the appropriate hour. That moment came and
went, with neither of them making a significant
overture. Mac's stomach slowly tied itself in a knot.

Now what? she wondered.

The music had slowed as the evening progressed. Their
dancing had followed suit, becoming more and more
intimate. Even Harm's constant chatter had fallen
away. Mac was acutely aware of every contact between
them, from the light pressure of his fingertips on the
small of her back to their clasped hands and the
occasional brush of his hip against hers. Eventually,
Mac couldn't stand it any longer.

"Harm?" She pulled away slightly to look up at him. 

He met her gaze after a moment. "Yeah, Mac?" She had
the feeling he'd been a million miles away in his
thoughts.

Mac discarded what she'd been about to say. "What were
you thinking about?" she asked instead.

He smiled, seeming abashed. "Teaching my son to fly."

That wasn't what Mac had been expecting. She wasn't
sure what she'd been expecting, but that definitely
wasn't it. The simple comment filled her with an
intense rush of longing, joy and fear. Her breath
caught in her throat.

Harm's smile faded, replaced by an penetrating
expression that turned Mac's knees to water. She
wasn't sure who initiated the kiss. It ran from her
lips to the tips of her fingers and toes like a bolt
of lightning and left her breathless.

"Let's get out of here," Harm suggested when they
parted.

Mac could only nod. She'd waited so many years for
this moment. One by one the barriers separating them
had fallen until there were none left. 

Together they sought their room, finally free to
express their feelings for each other on a level that
had no parallel, and to confirm the promises they had
made in a language that had no words.


Chapter 15

Mac woke to the glow of early morning sunlight falling
across her face. She stirred, instinctively turning to
look for Harm. She found him where she expected to,
sleeping soundly beside her. Mac resisted the impulse
to reach over and tousle his dark hair. Instead, she
insinuated herself into his arms and wrapped her own
around his chest.

His eyelids flickered, his grip tightening on her.

"Good morning," Mac said.

"Hey," was the groggy response. Mac kept her chuckle
to herself. Their years of odd nights spent together
on various missions had given her a misimpression of
her husband. He always slept like a cat when there was
a possible threat. Take away the tension, however, and
the man turned into a bear. A hibernating bear. 

Not that two mornings really qualified as a scientific
survey, she amended. And not that she'd been terribly
interested in getting out of bed herself yesterday
morning, either. The memory elicited a smile. 

This morning, however, was a different story. She
poked Harm gently in the ribs. He grunted.

"Wake up, sleepyhead. We're supposed to go running
today."

Her answer was another grunt. He rolled toward her,
throwing an arm and a leg across her body and
effectively pinning her to the bed. "Whose crazy idea
was that?" he mumbled into her hair.

Mac laughed. "Yours." They'd agreed early on that they
were going to keep up a regular exercise regimen
during the six-week cruise. The ship had a jogging
track that ran the perimeter of the lower deck as well
as a lap pool and a weight room.

"I was obviously out of my mind." He snuggled more
closely against her.

Mac struggled to escape his grasp, without much
success. Harm had something like eighty pounds on her,
which put her at a huge disadvantage if she wasn't
willing to give him a set of bruises. So she switched
tactics and kissed him instead.

His response was immediate, ardent, and almost
convinced Mac to forget about running. Laughing, she
struggled away from him and climbed off the edge of
the bed. "Exercise first, sex after," she promised.

Harm threw off the covers with a grin. "Best
motivational speech I've ever heard." He followed her
out of bed.

They dressed quickly and went up to the main deck. The
sun shone low in the cloudless sky, leaving a streak
of orange across the green ocean waters. The air
remained cool and fresh. Mac took a deep breath,
savoring it.

A cameraman showed up while they were still stretching
and began his own limbering exercises. Mac and Harm
traded glances. Poor guy. Well, if he wanted to film
them while they ran, he was welcome to try. 

"What do you think, Harm? Five miles?" 

The cameraman gave her a look of horror. Harm noted
the reaction, grinned. "Sounds good to me."

They started off at their normal pace. It might be a
bit of an exaggeration to say they ran together
regularly, Mac thought, though once upon a time they
had. The last few years had strained their friendship
to the breaking point, so naturally many of the things
they'd once done together had fallen by the wayside as
well. She was looking forward to developing a new
habit of running with Harm, and not just because she
loved him. Those long legs made him a challenge.

They chatted amiably as they ran, mostly about work.
Legalese worked as well as any secret code, with
certain military-specific words excluded. Mac already
missed JAG and her job. What she wanted most, really,
was to take her husband and go home. 

That thought conjured a few new ones.

"You know, we never resolved the issue of where we're
going to live once we get back," she said. In fact,
they'd never discussed anything of the sort, but she
couldn't admit that in front of a camera.

Harm glanced at her, traces of surprise on his face.
Then he grinned. "I think we should buy a house."

Mac nearly missed a step. "A house?" She started to
laugh despite herself. "You don't change your mind by
half-measures, do you?"

"Nope."

Mac glanced behind them.

"How's our camera guy doing?" Harm asked.

"He's hanging in there." He didn't look happy about
it, though.

"You think if we cut him some slack he'd tell us what
the competition is today?"

Mac checked the man behind them. The sweating
cameraman gave her a reproachful look. "Doesn't look
good," she decided.

Harm shrugged. "Oh well." He took a quick swig from
his water bottle. "Hey, Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"If by chance we win this thing today, who do you
want?"

Mac turned her head to stare at him, trusting her
peripheral vision to keep her from running into the
ship's curved rail. "What?"

He flashed her a guileless grin. "Who do you want to
spend the day with?"

Flabbergasted, Mac slowed. "You want me to pick?"

He shrugged. "There's no reason your day has to be a
total waste. If there's somebody you think would be
decent company… sure." He eyed her oddly, as if
puzzled by her reaction.

He can't really be that naïve, can he? Or did he
simply trust her that much? A little overwhelmed by
the possibilities, Mac forced herself to pick up her
pace. She opted to answer the question as asked,
rather than digging for a deeper subtext. This was
Harm, after all. 

They'd been briefly introduced to all the designated
singles on the ship. Most of the men struck Mac as
little more than hardbodies, and somewhat juvenile
ones at that. The few who were more her age seemed…
mundane. Of course, her basis for comparison was a
fighter pilot turned lawyer who moonlighted as a
paramilitary operative, and who had a nasty habit of
nearly getting himself killed in his country's
defense. So she supposed her evaluation might be a
little skewed.

"How about Joe Vassilis?" She didn't quite pick a name
at random, but close enough. Vassilis was an
architect, something Mac had a mild interest in.

"O.k."

They ran in silence for a little while. Mac knew she
ought to reflect the question back at him, but wasn't
sure she could. Just the thought made everything
inside her churn.

Eventually, Harm gave her a concerned look. "Is that
silence because you don't want to talk, or do we need
to slow down?" Not being able to talk while running
was a good indicator that a person was pushing too
hard. Mac had to make a deliberate effort not to be
insulted.

"I'm fine, Harm."

He shrugged. "Then I suppose I'll have to shelve my
lecture about cholesterol intake and cardiovascular
health for the moment."

Mac rolled her eyes. 

Harm went on. "But, since you're not having trouble
breathing, you must be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you!"

Harm just looked at her.

"O.k. I'm a little mad," she admitted. She increased
speed, wishing she could run away from him. 

"Why?"

"Why?"

"That's what I said, Mac." She could hear the tired
patience in his voice.

Mac came to an abrupt halt and stared at him. He
returned the look, his gaze filled with curiosity,
concern, and a hint of reproach.

"You really have no idea, do you?"

"Not unless you care to explain it to me." His voice
held an edge that had been missing a few moments
earlier. Now he was getting angry.

Mac couldn't help her incredulity. It bubbled out of
her in groaning laughter. She tipped her head back,
fighting with herself. Be constructive, Sarah. She
wanted to lash out at him, just because that was her
defense mechanism. But she'd committed her heart to
him-- she could no longer maintain a perimeter fence
around it to keep herself safe.

She sighed. "All right. I… don't know how this is
going to sound, though."

Hands on hips, Harm looked at the deck. "Fair enough.
We don't exactly have a great track record for these
kinds of conversations."

Too true, Mac thought. She wondered how much
difference it would make that they were married now. 

She took a deep breath. "Have you ever noticed that
you get a lot of attention from women?"

Harm looked up at her from under his eyebrows, his
expression a mixture of surprise and innocence. "Moi?"

Mac found she could laugh. She wagged a finger at him,
playing along. "Don't try to deny it. I don't think
there's a woman in the world who doesn't go a little
weak in the knees around you."

He chuckled. "You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not. Name me one woman who hasn't ever shown
the least interest in you."

"Harriet."

It was Mac's turn to laugh. "Even she goes a little
starry-eyed when you turn on the charm full blast."

Harm's smile disappeared abruptly. "C'mon, Mac! That's
ridiculous. Harriet is one of my dearest friends.
She's head-over-heels in love with Bud, and certainly
has never made any kind of pass or overture or--" He
ran out of words. "I can't believe we're talking about
this!"

Mac held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Easy. I
know that. I'm not making accusations. Harriet's one
of my best friends, too, and a woman of outstanding
character. But that's my point. If she isn't immune,
then no woman is."

Harm stared at her. Mac could see him trying to work
his way through what she'd said. 

"Where, exactly, are you going with this?" he asked
after a bit.

Mac turned and started walking along the track. Harm
matched her. "I guess what I'm trying to get at is
that we're on this crazy ship full of women who are
going to fall all over themselves to be with you. The
only problem is, to you it's not crazy-- it's normal.
That's how your life has always been, because all
women react that way around you, to some degree or
other. Does it really surprise you then that, yes, I
feel threatened when any woman gets within about five
feet of you, no matter how innocent the situation?"

Mac had been walking with her head down, talking with
her hands as she tried to put her observations into
words. It took her several steps to realize Harm was
no longer beside her. She stopped and turned. He was
standing a few feet behind her, staring in her
direction.

Mac walked back to him. "Harm?" She hated it when he
got quiet like that. She never had any idea what was
going on behind his eyes. "I'm not trying to pick a
fight, or blame you-- at all-- for anything." She
didn't quite have the courage to reach for him. "I
just wanted to explain why I get so… so prickly." She
looked down at her hand and the rings that encircled
her finger. "If I had my druthers, these rings would
declare you 'off limits', and no woman would ever look
twice at you again."

His gaze narrowed. "These rings do declare me 'off
limits', Mac. You, too." She could hear the carefully
controlled anger that simmered beneath his words.
"You're assuming facts not in evidence, counselor."

"Your evidence, maybe." Mac was too caught up in her
own personal pain to get angry in return. "My evidence
is a mother who abandoned me, a father who got drunk
and beat me, a failed marriage and a whole string of
relationships that ended badly. I've never known
anyone who held up their end of the bargain, Harm. No
one! Not once." She felt the burn of tears and bit her
lip to hold them at bay.

"And me?" If anything, the edge on his voice had grown
even sharper.

Mac closed her eyes, fighting to keep her voice even.
"I've seen you go literally to the ends of the earth
to fulfill a promise." She'd gone with him to Russia,
after all. "I know you. I know what kind of man you
are." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "And so I
believe-- in you, in us… but that doesn't mean I'm not
scared. This is it for me, Harm. I can't-- If this
doesn't work, for whatever reason, I don't think I
could ever open myself up enough to love someone
again."

Harm stared at her in silence, his gaze distant. The
moment stretched, painful and frightening. Mac wanted
to scream, but didn't dare move.

Eventually, Harm came back from whatever internal
place he'd been. He closed the distance between them
and raised a hand to brush away the strands of hair
the wind blew across her cheek. His gaze filled with
compassion. "You won't have to, Sarah. That I promise
you."

Relief washed through her, leaving her feeling weak.
Mac let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been
holding. Harm opened his arms to her and she
gratefully slipped into them. For a moment, she did
nothing but listen to the strong, steady beat of his
heart.

"You going to be o.k., Mac?" he asked after a while.

Gathering herself, she stepped out of his grasp. She
nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for not blowing up at me."

A hint of a smile crossed his face. "The warning
helped."

And with that, Mac realized, the conversation was
complete. Not that they wouldn't need to revisit it
from time to time-- Harm was such an incorrigible
flirt they might end up camping there for a while,
even-- but she'd been able to express how she felt and
he had listened. It was a remarkable experience.

Mac met her husband's gaze. "Do you want to finish
this last mile or just call it quits?" she asked.

"Oh, let's finish it." The mischievous glint she loved
came into his eyes. "I wouldn't want to give you any
excuse to wiggle out of the promise you made me this
morning."

Mac grinned at him. "Now why would I want to do that?"

#

They met John and Delia poolside for lunch. Harm found
he enjoyed the Washington's company more than he might
have imagined. John was a tremendously well-educated
man, and they had a good time discussing a wide range
of topics. He turned out to be a bit liberal for
Harm's tastes, but in areas the Naval commander found
easy to compromise, for the most part. They had fun
debating gun control, education, and even campaign
financing.

Eventually, the heat of the day got to them and they
opted to join their wives in the pool. Mac was wearing
a jade-colored bikini that did truly amazing things in
combination with her dark skin and the sparkling pool
water. Slick her hair back and put her in a
bikini…baby. Harm grinned. Steiner had certainly known
what he was talking about. Harm stripped off his shirt
as he headed for the water.

"Is that from a bullet wound?"

The question stopped Harm in his tracks. The slightly
puckered, star-shaped scar was all that remained of
that particular escapade. He turned to look at John,
who was watching him with a kind of fascinated
curiosity.

"Yeah." He shrugged. It was a good thing Mac had
gotten her own scars fixed. "I was in the wrong place
at the wrong time. I don't really like to talk about
it." The story was that he'd been caught in a robbery
and was hit by a stray bullet, should he ever have to
explain. Had Mac still had the scars from that
poacher's gun, the explanation would have seemed that
much more unlikely.

Harm turned and dove off the edge of the pool, cutting
cleanly into the water. He swam most of the length of
the pool underwater, coming up beside Mac. John joined
them more sedately a few moments later, as did a
couple of other people. There turned out to be a
surprising number of people on the ship. Besides the
nine couples and two dozen designated singles, there
were the coordinators for each couple, all of the
sound and camera crews, the panel of judges, the
show's various host personalities, as well as the
cooks, maids, stewards and the captain and his crew.

Someone brought a volleyball with them, and a game of
men-against-women water polo was quickly struck up. A
rather viciously competitive one, Harm decided after
being bodily dragged under by three women intent on
stripping the ball away from him. They got it, too,
much to his chagrin. Had he been single, he might have
considered the loss well worth the fun of losing it,
but his conversation with Mac that morning made it all
too clear to him that there were some lines that
needed to be drawn. And respected. 

Harm resigned from the game. He made his way to the
edge of the pool and hauled himself onto it, turning
to sit with his feet dangling in the water. The
predatory swiftness with which two young, bikini-clad
women came to sit next to him, one on either side, was
downright astounding. At least Mac was headed in his
direction, working her way around the ongoing game.

"Ladies." Ignoring them would only give the impression
that he was intimidated. Of course, in a sense he was.
Not of them, but rather of the storm clouds brewing in
Mac's eyes.

"Worn out already?" one of the girls asked with a
teasing grin. Harm fished through his memory for a
name-- ah, Nikki. She was one of the designated
singles-- he'd read her bio as part of their prep work
for the case. Computer science major at UCLA, into
hiking and kayaking, vegetarian. She looked like a
California girl, with her tan, muscular limbs and
saucy smile.

Harm summoned a grin. "No, but it was getting a little
too cutthroat out there for my tastes." He nodded
toward the pool.

"Really?" She stirred the water with one foot,
flashing her long legs. "I thought you were more the
type to enjoy a bit of healthy competition."

Harm chuckled, as much at himself as the girl's
comment. Like a shark smelling blood, she'd gone
straight for his ego. Nothing like going for the big
targets.

Mac saved him from having to reply. 

"Hi, Mac," he said cheerfully as his wife swam up. 

She grinned back at him, a thoroughly dangerous
expression. "Hi, yourself. Are they playing nice?"
Mac's gaze swept across the two co-eds, both of whom
deflated under the baleful stare. 

Harm jerked his head in Nikki's direction. "Ms. Upton
here was just insulting my competitive spirit." He
slipped into the water with Mac. He didn't mind
running away from Nikki and her friend as long as it
didn't look like running.

Mac raised an eyebrow as she hooked her arms around
his neck. Harm immediately felt better. "Ms. Upton has
obviously never gone against you in court."

Harm decided not to rise to the bait, and kissed her
instead. He'd discovered that was much more fun than
arguing with her. As often happened, the kiss got out
of hand in a hurry, as he'd once put it. He forgot all
about the two young women who watched from not far
away.

With twin "hmphs" of injured pride, the girls
departed. Mac laughed at their retreat.

Harm wisely didn't watch them go. It's going to be a
long six weeks, he thought. 


Chapter 16

"Is that Bob Eubanks?"

The question snapped Mac out of her bored reverie. She
glanced at Harm, then followed his gaze to the man who
stood talking with Tony Ariel and a small crowd of
production people. 

She grinned at his startled expression. "Of course it
is. They're doing a Newlywed Game tie-in. Weren't you
paying attention when Steiner went over that in the
contestant briefing?"

Harm cocked his eyebrows in the equivalent of a shrug.
"Must've missed that one. I was probably too busy
looking at your legs."

Mac smiled, inordinately pleased by the comment. It
was the first real admission Harm had made of wanting
her before the wedding. She tried not to let on too
much, however.

"Well, we knew one of the couples' competitions would
be a Newlywed Game thing. I guess it makes sense for
it to be the first one," she said.

"They're going to run a special one-hour episode in
the time slot after the Temptation Cruise premier,"
Carmen added as she and Boothe walked up. Carmen, Mac
noted, was dressed to kill. Her red dress left little
to the imagination, and everything that showed, she
flaunted with culpable intent. Boothe matched her, his
stylish black suit lending him an air of danger. The
two took the pair of seats next to Mac and Harm. The
third couple for their first round of the game was
already seated on the far end of the row-- the Na's.
Nguyen and Stephanie Na were a quiet pair. They kept
mostly to themselves, and Mac knew little of them
beyond the background information they'd gathered
before the cruise.

"You know, there's something vaguely terrifying about
the idea of being on The Newlywed Game, though I'm not
quite sure why," Harm commented.

Boothe chuckled. "Probably has to do with having to
answer questions like 'Where is the most unusual place
you ever made whoopie?', wouldn't you say?" He didn't
seem the least bit uncomfortable.

Harm laughed with him, but the look he flashed Mac was
anything but humored. He leaned close to her. 

"How are we going to answer that?" he murmured into
her hair. 

Mac considered the question. In our stateroom, was
hardly a response calculated to divert suspicion.
After a moment, though, she smiled.

"How about 'Where's the most unusual place we didn't
make love?'," she suggested in the same low tone. 

Harm gave her a very surprised look, but then grinned.
"I guess that keeps with the spirit of the game,
anyway." He reached over to take her hand and brought
it to his lips. "This is going to be interesting, to
say the least."

Mac had to laugh at that. 

The Newlywed Game was traditionally played with four
couples, a format they were modifying to fit the needs
of the show. The nine couples would compete in groups
of three, and the winners of the first round would
compete against each other for the final prize-- a
pair of his and hers SUVs, and the right to choose
their spouses' companion for the next day's outing.
Mac and Harm were in the third group.

They spent the rest of the long, boring wait for their
round to begin chatting with Boothe and Carmen. It was
more like fencing than conversation, Mac thought.
Perhaps Harm would have compared it to dogfighting, or
more likely, to the dangerous game of target-lock
chicken fighter pilots most often played.

But eventually, things got underway. She and Harm
endured a last once-over from makeup, and then they
were in the harsh spotlights, with Bob Eubanks
standing at his podium, smiling radiantly at the
cameras. 

"Welcome to the Newlywed Game! As you know, the
purpose of our game is to find out how much these
three newlywed couples really know about each other by
asking a set of questions to each spouse and asking
them to pick the answer they think their husband or
wife would answer. In the first round, the women will
exit the stage and go into our specially soundproofed
studio while the men tell us what they think their
wives will say. Each question is worth five points. In
the second round, the men will go into the studio
while the women tell what they think their husbands
will say. The questions in the second round are worth
ten points. At the end, there will be a twenty-five
point bonus question. Now, let's meet our
contestants!" Bob gestured toward the waiting couples
to the enthusiastic applause of the audience, which
was comprised of everyone from the ship that didn't
have to be doing something else.

Bob walked over to the Na's to exchange introductions.
"Now, we all know you've only been married for a
couple of days, but how long did you date before
this?"

"Four years," was the soft-spoken response.

"Four years?" Eubanks had a gift for making anything
sound ridiculous, no matter how ordinary. "What was
the slowdown?"

Nguyen hooked a thumb at his wife. "Her mother." The
comment earned him an embarrassed, slightly venomous
look.

Grinning, Bob moved on. "You must be Boothe and
Carmen."

They nodded. Carmen looked like she was having trouble
keeping her attention on the host. Her eyes kept
sliding toward the hulking forms of the television
cameras.

Eubanks undoubtedly noticed, Mac thought. He centered
on Carmen. "So tell me, Ms. Esperanza, why did you
choose not to change your name?"

Carmen stiffened ever so slightly and licked her lips.
Mac recognized the defensive reaction for what it was.
"I guess because I don't feel like I need a man to
define who I am," Carmen said. "My family name is
important to me."

Bob raised his eyebrows at that, though Boothe gave no
perceptible reaction.

"What do you think about that, Boothe?" Eubanks asked.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't be willing to change my name
to Esperanza, so I don't see why anyone should have a
problem with it."

With an equivocal shrug that drew laughter from the
audience, Bob moved on. Mac met his gaze briefly as he
came to stand near them.

"And here we have Harmon and Sarah Rabb, correct?"

"Harm is fine," Harm told him.

"Call me Mac," Mac said at nearly the same time.

Bob paused, his comedic timing impeccable. "Mack?" He
looked at Harm. "You call your wife 'Mack'?"

Harm shrugged, but his smile was full of mischief.
"Everybody calls her Mac."

"It's short for MacKenzie, my maiden name," Mac
explained. She glanced at Harm. "That's going to get
harder to explain, isn't it?"

Harm chuckled. "Why bother? If anybody gives you
trouble about it, just give them that deadly stare of
yours and say, 'You got a problem with that?'" He
dropped his voice in a fair drill sergeant imitation.
Then he grinned, ruining the impression. "And if that
doesn't work, you can always break their arm."

Bob winked at Mac. "I'm beginning to see the real
reason… Tell me, Harm, can she beat you up?"

"Yes," Mac answered promptly, shooting her husband a
sly grin.

Harm laughed and gave her a playfully wounded look in
return. "Well, two times out of three, maybe."

"Sounds like your house must be an interesting place."

Then it was time for Mac, Carmen and Stephanie to
leave the stage and go into the soundproofed cubby to
wait while the men answered the first round of
questions. The interior of the little room was barren
except for three metal and plastic chairs. Stephanie
sat down while Mac leaned her shoulder against the
wall. Carmen paced, her stiletto heels occasionally
snagging on the cheap carpet.

"So what's your story?" Carmen asked Mac after a few
moments. 

Mac raised an eyebrow.

"You're some hot shot lawyer, can beat people up… you
really gonna be happy just being Mrs. Rabb for the
rest of your life?"

It's Lieutenant Colonel Rabb, and I sure hope so! Mac
couldn't say that, though. She stared at Carmen in
silence as her thoughts turned. Eubanks had definitely
touched a nerve in the other woman, however
unwittingly. 

Mac chose her answer carefully. "I've spent most of my
life trying to live down the legacy my parents left
me," she said. "The only reason I kept the name
MacKenzie was because no better one belonged to me.
That's not true any more."

Carmen snorted. "Well, don't think that man out there
is gonna make you a better person, honey."

Mac tensed, torn between pity for the other woman and
the instinctive desire to defend Harm. "Actually, he
does make me a better person," she answered, keeping
her voice mild with an effort. "I've never met anyone
with more courage or integrity." She stepped away from
the wall. "For all that the man has his faults-- and
everyone does-- he's one of the best people I've ever
known."

Carmen stared at her, her open disdain slowly fading
to puzzlement. But before she could say anything else,
the door to the room opened. A production person waved
them out, his headset cord trailing behind him like a
tail.

Mac followed Carmen out into the painfully bright
lighting of the stage, trying not to wince. She
couldn't help the smile that lit her face on seeing
Harm, not with the thoughts that were floating around
in her head. He really was the very best thing that
had ever happened to her. 

Harm grinned back at her, though a bit sheepishly. Mac
settled in her chair and cocked her head at him. "They
been putting you on the spot?"

His smile deepened. "I told you this was going to be
interesting."

"That sounds bad."

"We'll see."

"All right, ladies, here's the first question we asked
your husbands: Of the two of you, who do you say is
the better catch?" Bob Eubanks swept his gaze across
them, gauging reactions no doubt, before walking over
to the Na's. "Now remember, Stephanie, your husband
has tried to give the answer he thought you would
say."

Mac tried to wait patiently while Bob went through the
other two couples. Stephanie said herself, while
Nguyen had said him, which resulted in a pair of dark
looks. Not too surprisingly, Carmen also answered
herself, which Boothe matched. But that made sense,
Mac thought. Carmen would say she was the better
catch, and Boothe was shrewd enough to go for the
answer she would say rather than what he thought was
true. That much was obvious from his expression.

So, how had Harm answered? She debated with herself as
Bob walked over to her.

"And what do you say, Mac?"

Mac took a deep breath, wondering if she understood
how her husband worked at all. Well, she supposed she
would find out.

"Knowing the size of his ego, I guess I'm going to
have to go with 'him'." She gave Harm a teasing smile.
She-- not to mention the Admiral-- had been riding him
about the size of his aviator's ego for years.

She knew immediately from the audience's reaction that
she'd guessed wrong. Harm had picked her. But was that
because he believed it, or because he thought she
would think so? Her stomach knotted.

Harm grinned at her, though not entirely happily. "Ow.
Are you trying to tell me I'm arrogant?"

Mac decided the truth was the only thing that could
save her. "Well, you are… though usually with good
reason." She let a hint of suggestiveness creep into
her voice.

Even Bob Eubanks raised his eyebrows at that. Harm was
chuckling. "I'm not going to let you forget you said
that."

Mac rolled her eyes, but figured it was a small price
to pay. 

Eubanks went on with the show. He stayed beside Mac
and Harm as he pulled out the second question. "Mac,
which of the following songs best describes your first
date with Harm? A) Sea of Love, B) Let's Get Physical,
or C) Crash."

Mac burst out laughing. What could their first "date"
have been, but that day Harm had taken her flying in
Sarah?

"Oh, 'Crash', definitely," she said through her
laughter.

Bob grinned at her. "That bad, huh?"

"No, literally," Mac explained. He took me flying in
his plane and there were some mechanical difficulties
and--"

"It wasn't a crash. It was an emergency landing," Harm
injected indignantly.

Mac turned to him. "True, but still, you have to admit
things kind of went downhill from there."

Harm's snort spoke volumes and drew laughter from the
crowd.

Bob looked at Harm. "So how long was it before she
agreed to go out with you again?"

"Years."

Eubanks laughed at that. "All right. Well, why don't
you show her what you said."

Harm flipped the large blue card, which had 'Crash'
written on it in his distinctive handwriting. Mac
smiled at that, but Harm's expression had turned
serious.

"That was one of the worst days of my life," he told
her softly as Bob moved off to talk to Boothe and
Carmen.

Mac sobered at the shadows that turned his normally
blue eyes a turbulent gray. It had been a pretty bad
day for her, too, even though they laughed about it in
retrospect. She wondered if Harm still felt guilty for
leaving her. She sighed. Probably. But there was
nothing she could say about it right now.

She turned to watch the other couples take their
turns. Boothe and Carmen matched again with "Let's Get
Physical", which didn't surprise Mac in the least.
Nguyen and Stephanie once again did not match. How did
they manage to stay together for four years? she
wondered.

The third question was enough to make Mac clamp one
hand over her mouth and the Oh no! that threatened to
leap off her tongue.

Eubanks stood by Carmen. "Here's the question we asked
your husband: How would she describe you? A) All
action, no talk, B) All talk, no action, or C)
Entertaining at both. What do you say, Carmen?"

Mac stared at Harm. She was reassured to see the
laughter that sparkled in his eyes, as if he knew just
how dangerous a question it was and was honest enough
not to be offended by her assessment.

Once again, Carmen guessed correctly. Well, Mac
thought, 'All action, no talk' is probably a good
description of Boothe. He certainly didn't strike her
as the sensitive type. Nguyen and Stephanie finally
got one as well, with 'all talk, no action', though
Nguyen sounded bitter as he said it.

When it was her turn, Mac decided to hedge her bets.
In the past, their personal relationship had been 'no
talk, no action', but now she had plenty of both. And
in other respects, Harm had always done more than
enough of both the talking and the action. Mac had
heard a rumor that some CO's looked for an opportunity
to get Harm assigned to them, however briefly, just to
give them an excuse to read his service record. It was
supposed to be one of the most… colorful… in the Navy.

Mac chuckled at her thoughts. "I'm going to have to go
with 'Entertaining at both'," she told Bob.

To her surprise, Harm had chosen the same thing.

He flashed her a cheeky grin. "Well I am, aren't I?"
he asked when she voiced her surprise.

"I'm beginning to see what you meant about the size of
his ego," Bob commented in an aside, to which Mac
laughed. Harm looked on, unfazed. He knew he was
arrogant, Mac realized, and considered it an asset.
For him, she had to concede, it generally was. Fighter
pilots lived in a world where being good wasn't enough
even to get them into the field. Being great meant
they could handle the job, and only the firm belief
that they were absolutely the best gave them the nerve
to hazard death every single time they catapulted off
the carrier deck. Loss of confidence killed a lot more
fighter pilots than enemy missiles did. 

Oddly enough, Mac thought, the same thing held for
lawyers though on a vastly different scale.

The game continued, this time with the men leaving the
stage. To Mac's relief, the questions got better, not
worse. For herself and Harm, anyway. The Na's nearly
came to blows over the question of what he would
change about her if he could. Of course, he'd had the
unbelievable idiocy to tell the world he thought his
wife's breasts were too small. 

For Mac, that question was easy. "My diet," she'd told
Bob Eubanks without hesitation. Harm agreed.

"You wouldn't believe the amount of junk she eats," he
added with a sly smile in Mac's direction.

It was an old argument and a fun one, so Mac jumped
in. "I do not eat junk."

"Three Beltway burgers, fries and a coke for lunch?
That's a hundred grams of fat in one meal." He cocked
an eyebrow in her direction. "I'm not even going to
comment on cholesterol."

For once, Mac could do what she'd always wanted to
when he teased her about her food. She struck a sultry
pose. "Do I look fat?" The audience, invisible beyond
the glare of the lights, roared.

Harm made a show of looking her over, his expression a
cross between a serious evaluation and an outright
leer. "You," he finally concluded, "are gorgeous. But
your metabolism must run at an insane rate considering
what you eat. It won't protect you from heart disease
or clogged arteries." Harm leaned close, taking her
hand. His smile was that certain one he reserved just
for her. "Having finally found you, Mac, I'd really
like to keep you for a while." 

Mac felt her cheeks growing warm beneath the power of
his smile. "Don't worry," she managed to say. "You
won't be getting rid of me any time soon."

For a moment, the rest of the world went away. Mac
lost track of everything but her husband's intense
expression and the answering fire it kindled in her
own body.

The crowd's laughter brought her back, as Bob fanned
himself with his cards and walked away.

The rest of the game passed in a blur. Unfortunately,
they never managed to quite catch up with Boothe and
Carmen, and ended up losing the round to them by a
mere five points. Mac found she didn't care as much as
she expected to. Not that she liked the idea of Tony
Ariel and his staff picking a date for Harm, but since
they'd talked she felt much more confident. At least
this way they were free to enjoy their evening instead
of spending it playing the Newlywed Game again.

They found a little bistro, tucked between two larger
restaurants on the main concourse, and spent the
evening talking over pasta and espresso. All in all,
Mac thought as they made their way to their room, it
had turned out to be a pretty good day despite the
opportunities there'd been for disaster.

And tomorrow? she wondered for a brief, pessimistic
moment.

"What about tomorrow?" Harm asked as he unlocked the
door to their stateroom. He gave her a curious,
slightly concerned look.

Mac shook her head, surprised that she'd spoken her
thought aloud. "Nothing. I was just…"

"…thinking of all the things that could go wrong?"

Caught, Mac sighed. "Yeah."

Harm grinned as he held the door open for her.
"Tomorrow won't get here for a while yet. Do you think
we can find something better to do with our time than
worry about it?"

Mac pushed her dark thoughts away with determination.
Straightening her shoulders, she sauntered past Harm,
throwing him a coquettish look over her shoulder. "Was
that an invitation?"

His smile deepened. "More of a challenge, really."

She turned, waiting for him to cross the distance to
her. "Well, you know how much I love a challenge."

Harm hit the light switch as he passed it, plunging
the room into darkness. She heard him laugh deep in
his throat as his arms closed around her. "That's my
Marine," he murmured in the moment before his mouth
fastened on hers.


Chapter 17

In the morning, the contestants were roused early.
They gathered on the wharf where the launches from the
Radiant Heart deposited them, along with their
coordinators, the singles, and camera crews. Tony
Ariel was there as well. He read off the assignments
through a bullhorn and gave each pair instructions on
how to proceed to the location for their day trip.

Harm wasn't too terribly surprised to find himself
with Nikki Upton. Her choice of activities was a
twelve-mile hike through the mountains that filled the
center of the little Caribbean island. Harm had to
chuckle at that. If she thought wearing him out would
lower his defenses to her various charms, she was
mistaken. At his age, all it was likely to do was to
wear him out.

One of three helicopters was waiting to take them to
the trailhead. The show's staff had provided light
packs containing some basic first aid supplies,
climbing gear, food and water. The two cameramen
assigned to them had radios for emergencies. Harm
simply laughed at Selena’s repeated attempts to get
him to take off the heavy-weave cotton shirt he was
wearing. There was no way he was going to cart an
unfamiliar pack-- even a light one-- on bare
shoulders. He’d known better than that since his days
in Laos.

Mac stood a short ways away, utterly breathtaking in a
flowered bikini and matching sarong. To be honest,
Harm wasn’t entirely thrilled with her wardrobe
choice, but her instructions had been to wear
something she could swim in and she didn’t have any
one-piece suits. They’d made all their costuming
choices several weeks before their relationship had
changed so dramatically, and he wondered what, if
anything, Mac’s choice of swimwear meant. After all,
they had argued about her wearing-- or not wearing,
more specifically-- a bikini once upon a time. 

Harm pushed the thoughts aside. It simply didn’t
matter any more. 

Mac turned as if sensing his attention. She smiled,
tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. Harm’s
heart skipped a beat. No, it didn’t matter any more.
Not at all.

Mac was going to be leaving soon, in one of several
bright yellow Honda Passports bearing the Temptation
Cruise II logo. The young man escorting her reminded
Harm of the Greek statues of Adonis: curly black hair,
olive skin, and a physique to make an Olympic swimmer
jealous. Not to mention a Navy Commander or two. What
were they supposed to be doing today? Beach combing?
He wondered how Mac would take to such a frivolous
activity. It didn’t strike him as the kind of thing
she’d have the patience for, but then again, he’d
never been on vacation with her. He really didn’t know
how she would enjoy spending her days in the sun.

One of the cameramen, who also doubled as the driver
for Mac and her date, began indicating that it was
time for them to go. Mac nodded acknowledgement, then
turned to Harm. The fearful longing in her eyes took
his breath away. He hated the idea of being separated
from her, even for a day, and hated even more the
circumstances that would be working to tear them
apart.

Harm crossed the distance between them in two strides
and swept her up into a passionate embrace. He wanted
to drink her in-- fix the taste and scent and feel of
her more firmly in his memory to make sure he could
take that much of her with him when they parted. 

Mac sighed a little as they separated, but her smile
was the one Harm lived for. Everything he had
accomplished in his life-- as a lawyer, an officer,
even a fighter pilot-- paled beside the knowledge that
he had, and did, make this woman happy. Marriage had
always seemed like such an awesome and frightening
responsibility. Which it was, he had to admit, but it
also fulfilled some basic, masculine need inside him--
something he hadn’t even suspected he was missing. 

"Have fun, Mac," he said. "I love you."

Her smile deepened. "I love you, too. I don’t think
I’ll ever get enough of hearing that."

The comment sparked a thought, which Harm filed away
for another time. Mac liked romantic gestures, and
this one didn’t require anything but some time alone
and a pad of post-it notes, which he was sure he could
come up with.

Then it was time for Mac to go. Harm walked her to her
vehicle and held the rear door for her while she got
in. It gave him the opportunity to meet Mr. Greek
Statue’s eyes over the hood of the car and impress on
him the amount of pain he would be inflicting on
himself if he behaved even slightly improperly toward
Mac. 

Being who and what he was, Harm had a pretty
intimidating stare when he chose to use it. The young
man swallowed hard before ducking to enter the
vehicle. Satisfied, Harm leaned down to smile at Mac
once more, then stepped back as the yellow Passport
pulled away.

That done, Harm went in search of Nikki Upton. There
was no sense in delaying any longer. The sooner he
left, the sooner he could return… hopefully to find
Mac waiting for him.

#

"Hey, Geordi, this one needs some cleaning up." 

Geordi-- more properly George Laughton-- turned to
look at his fellow tech. George was young, black and
somewhat baby-faced, but the nickname came from his
uncanny ability with electronics rather than his
resemblance to the Star Trek character. He walked over
to his compatriot and took the proffered headphones,
holding one side to his ear. He nodded to the other
man.

Tomorrow won't get here for a while yet. Do you think
we can find something better to do with our time than
worry about it? A man’s voice. Rabb, if he had to
guess. The words were clear.

"Which cabin is this?" he asked.

"Six." Yes, that was the Rabbs.

"The cameras are still on?" It was more of a
rhetorical question than not. The audio units
integrated with the cabin cameras were far better than
the secondary systems that kicked in when the lights
went out. Those recordings weren’t airable because
they weren’t supposed to exist, but the producers
thought they could provide important information.
Geordi didn’t care much one way or the other. Anyone
who volunteered to go on the show, he figured,
deserved whatever they got.

Was that an invitation? Mrs. Rabb’s response. Arch,
confident, daring. And still crystal clear.

"What’s the problem?" Geordi asked.

"Last line," was the response.

Geordi listened.

More of a challenge, really, Rabb was saying. How did
he manage to sound so innocent saying that?

Well, you know how much I love a challenge. Not that
she was fooled. These two were awfully funny to listen
to. 

Geordi heard footsteps, then a soft click, followed by
the hiss of the cheap analog recording system as it
took over. His attention sharpened. 

--at’s my --arine-- It was barely a whisper, followed
by muffled, intermittent sounds that made him think
there probably wouldn’t be any more meaningful
conversation for a while.

He reached for the controls, spun the tape back and
listened again. That’s my… tangerine? Marine? A dream?
Nothing jumped out at him as a likely endearment.

"You think it’s important?" Geordi asked, letting his
skepticism show. They had a truly terrifying amount of
tape to sort through each day. 

The other man shrugged. "Not really, but Steiner said
to make sure he got everything with these two in it,
so he might think it was."

Geordi frowned, his thoughts suddenly turning in new
directions. "Why these two?" He hadn’t heard those
instructions, but he wasn’t the senior tech. Still,
given his own private instructions from Steiner, the
possible connections were intriguing. 

"It’s not just them. He wants the Andersons and
Crossby/Esperanza, too."

Geordi shrugged. "Oh. O.k. Well, I can try to get some
more out of it. Mark it for me and leave it on my desk
when you leave and I’ll try to get to it after lunch."

The other tech gave him a sympathetic grin. "I’d tell
you I’ll be thinking of you while I’m sipping
margaritas on the beach, but I’d be lying."

Geordi chuckled. "That’s all right. I can’t stay in
Ariel’s doghouse forever." A few unappreciated
comments had gotten Geordi condemned to work the AV
room while everyone else enjoyed their shore time.
However, since he’d done it intentionally, he could
hardly complain.

The other tech finished up a few things, then left.
Geordi waited. After a while he checked the time. The
dual banks of surveillance monitors showed little
activity. Almost everyone had gone ashore. No one was
likely to interrupt him now.

Gathering his toolkit, he walked into one of several
equipment rooms that adjoined the AV room. His
assignment from Steiner was tedious, if technically
interesting. Tracing every single recording circuit
was likely to take him the entire cruise, and he
wondered what the show’s producer thought he might
find.

#

Mac was bored. B-O-R-E-D. Bored. Looking for seashells
was all well and good for a little while, but after
several hours she needed a new diversion.
Unfortunately, Alex Tantanopolous, her lovely but
shallow companion, was convinced she should be having
the time of her life. Oh well. She was a Marine. She’d
endured far worse.

Lunchtime arrived to her intense relief. Food was
always a welcome diversion and she was starved. Like
Harm said, her metabolism ran at an insane rate. She’d
had to forego her usual midmorning snack, which left
her feeling truly famished. She was about to mention
her hunger to Alex when she spotted a picnic blanket
and attending umbrella laid out on the sand. She
turned in that direction, assuming the spread couldn’t
have been meant for anyone else.

"Oooh, I’m starving. Let’s eat!" 

Alex followed her, eventually breaking into a jog to
beat her to the site. He dropped to one knee beside a
large picnic basket and began pulling out various
dishes. Mac helped, figuring they would get to eat
that much sooner. The smells wafting out of the basket
made her stomach growl.

Alex looked over at her in surprise. 

"Yes, that was me," she told him with a touch of
asperity. "I told you I was starving."

Alex smiled and handed her a plate. "Here, then. Eat."

Mac started lifting lids. "It smells wonderful." She
guessed the dishes were all Greek, based on her
limited knowledge of Mediterranean cuisine. But
whatever they were, they were good. She demolished her
first plate, then slowed down to enjoy seconds.

Alex watched her in a mixture of amusement and awe. He
didn’t take much for himself, she noted. Lots of rice
and vegetables, but not much of the meat. And no sauce
at all. 

"You eat like my husband," Mac said, unable to hide
her grin as the words rolled off her tongue. My
husband… that sounds so good. 

Alex gave her an odd look. Well, if he thought she
wasn’t going to mention Harm, that was too bad. 

"How so?" he asked after a moment.

Mac shrugged. "Disgustingly healthy."

Looking a bit wounded, Alex set his plate down. "A
good diet is important. I believe there are three
basic components to a person-- mind, body and soul--
and each one has to be properly cared for…" He went on
for a while, espousing what Mac quickly deduced was
his life philosophy and which, apparently, covered
absolutely every possible moral, ethical and personal
issue. She wondered if he’d gotten it from a book, or
more likely, a TV special.

That’s not very nice, she chided herself as she tried
to maintain a polite expression. Luckily she still had
some food left to occupy part of her attention. Not to
mention dessert, if there was one. At least Harm
didn’t rely on some wacky philosophy to justify his
health nut tendencies. 

Alex wound down just as Mac started her search for
dessert. She found something reminiscent of a fruit
tart, and equally tasty. 

Reclining on one elbow, Alex brought out a small book
from a side pocket of the basket and began to read.

Mac almost choked on her pastry. Poetry? He’s going to
read me poetry?! She managed to contain her reaction
with an effort of will. In general, she had little use
for poetry. Not that one… or two-- short--
situationally appropriate poems… from Harm… might not
be appreciated… 

Sighing in feigned contentment, Mac found a
comfortable spot in the sun and lay back. She could at
least work on her tan, maybe even daydream a bit so
long as Alex stayed put where he was, safely on the
other side of the picnic basket.

Lying there, she wondered if Harm was having as much
fun as she was.

#

Nikki Upton was an ambitious woman. So far she was the
only one who’d managed to garner even the slightest
notice from Harmon Rabb, a feat that had won her
instant respect-- and jealousy-- from the rest of the
female staff. Nikki reveled in it. Harm was, without
doubt, the show’s top prize, one she intended to
claim. Whoever did that would be remembered after the
show ended. Her name would be instantly recognized,
and doors would magically open. Nikki didn’t really
want to spend the rest of her life working with
computers. It would pay the bills until something
better came along, and hopefully that something better
was starting now.

She knew how to win Harmon Rabb’s heart. 

Not completely, of course. But enough to make him
slip… and that was all she needed.

They were climbing a narrow trail along the edge of a
precipice. Through a thin layer of jungle, they caught
glimpses of the spectacular view of the rugged,
foliage-covered mountains on the far side of a valley
that lay hundreds of feet below them. At the moment,
Harm was leaning against a convenient tree trunk,
sipping from his water bottle. To Nikki’s surprise,
he’d had little trouble keeping up with her, even
though she was an experienced hiker. Well, she knew he
was in good shape. But, the spot she’d picked was only
a little ways ahead. Hopefully, he was amenable to a
break. 

She turned to Harm. "Do you mind if I explore up the
trail a little ways? There’s supposed to be clearing
with an unobstructed view. It sounded like the perfect
place to stop for lunch."

Harm shrugged. "Suit yourself." He moved a short ways
away and settled on the lip of a moss-covered rock,
digging out a small towel to soak some of the sweat
from his face and hair.

Pleased, Nikki headed up the trail. The forest steamed
around her as the sun baked off the early morning’s
torrential downpour. She was sheened in sweat, her
bound-up hair falling in damp, curly wisps around her
face. The entire morning, she’d done nothing
particular to invite Harm’s attention save a little
light flirting, which he’d reflected back at her
without ever stepping up the intensity. Even so, he’d
been very pleasant company. She could certainly see
what his wife saw in him. Well, Mac would get him
back, Nikki didn’t doubt. She was that kind of woman.

A few hundred yards along, the trail widened into a
small clearing that jutted out over the edge of the
cliff, just as the scouting team had promised. The
view was astounding.

"Wow, get a load of that," Nikki told her cameraman
with a gesture toward the panorama. He obediently
swung the camera in the proper direction, then
returned his focus to her. Nikki addressed the camera,
and beyond it, the television audience.

"There are supposed to be some tree roots hanging out
of the cliff just below the edge over there, and I’m
going to go take a look. See, I think what Harmon Rabb
really wants is to be a hero, so I’m going to give him
the chance to save me." She smiled for the camera,
then turned and walked close to the cliff edge to look
over. Dark gray stone fell away in a tremendous sheer
cliff dotted with vines and flowering shrubs. A few
feet below the edge, a wide tangle of roots snaked
their way across the stone, as promised. They looked
pretty sturdy.

Cautiously, Nikki inched closer to the lip. The dark
loam squished beneath her hiking boots, still wet from
the rain. She crouched, trying to figure out how best
to lower herself. She didn’t have to go very far, just
enough to make it look like she was really in danger.

With a sickening lurch and a hiss like sand pouring
out of a giant glass, the ground suddenly gave way
beneath her feet. Nikki shrieked in terror as she
began to slide over the edge, grabbing desperately for
anything that might stop her fall.


Chapter 18

A woman’s scream echoed through the thick jungle
growth from somewhere up the trail. Harm bolted to his
feet, racing toward the sound before he could
consciously command his body to move. Adrenaline
poured through his system, sharpening sight and sound,
and turning time into a liquid thing. Memory drew him
back to his days in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, and as
he ran he instinctively swept the trail ahead for
signs of land mines or trip wires. Not that he really
expected to find anything, but the training, the
experience, ran deep. Inside he was very frightened of
what he might see when he caught up to Nikki Upton.

Harm burst into the clearing Nikki must have been
looking for and spotted the second cameraman. He was
standing near the lip of what had to be a huge cliff,
camera forgotten in his hand as he tried to peer over.
Near where he stood, a portion of the edge looked to
have collapsed, leaving a sloping divot in its
surface.

"Help me!" Nikki screamed again, the sound echoing up
from the front of the cliff. Harm felt a wash of
intense relief, followed by dismay. She was still
alive… and in a great deal of trouble.

"Get back!" Harm snapped at the cameraman. "Do you
want to fall?" 

The man turned to stare at him, then obediently backed
away. He watched the cliff edge fearfully. "She just…
disappeared," he told Harm. "One minute she was
looking over the edge, the next she was just… gone."

Ignoring him, Harm dropped his pack about ten feet
from the edge and dropped to his stomach, crawling
forward on elbows and knees. He approached the lip
cautiously, testing each position before trusting his
weight to it. He knew landslides from Southeast Asia
as well.

He stuck his head over the edge and looked down. Nikki
was maybe ninety feet below him, her form obscured by
a fleshy-leafed bush whose branches she clung to. Harm
could see little of her but bare legs and a pair of
hiking boots dangling beneath the green mass. The
cliff face turned in just below the bush, leaving her
suspended over empty space. 

"Nikki!" he called.

"Harm?" There was a clear note of hysteria in her
voice. "Is that you? Harm, help me! I’m going to
fall!"

"It’s me," he answered, trying to keep his voice calm,
reassuring. "You’re going to be fine. Just hold on." 

"No! Harm, help me! It’s pulling out by the roots!"

Harm studied the flowered bush, which did seem to be
bent at an odd angle. He turned quickly to look back
at the cameramen. The one who’d gone with Nikki was
standing a short ways back, watching everything
through his camera lens. The other had his emergency
radio to his mouth and was speaking urgently into it.

"How long for them to send help?" he asked the man
with the radio.

"One of our helicopters will be here in about two
minutes," the man answered, "but they don’t have
rescue equipment. Mr. Ariel says a Coast Guard
helicopter is coming with a search and rescue team."

"ETA?"

The cameraman looked blankly at him.

"How long?"

"Fifteen minutes, maybe more."

Harm shook his head. "She doesn’t have fifteen
minutes. That bush isn’t going to hold much longer."
He poked his head back out over the cliff edge. "Hang
on, Nikki! I’m coming down to get you."

"Please hurry!"

Harm scrambled back from the precipice and regained
his feet. He hurried to his pack, knelt, and began
digging out the climbing equipment he’d been given. He
already knew the inventory and had made a cursory
check before they left, but now he checked each item
with quick, focused intensity. He had a rappelling
harness and about a hundred fifty feet of rope, and,
thankfully, a pair of climbing gloves. 

Harm stood and began unwinding the rope. "Do either of
you have any climbing experience?" he demanded of the
two cameramen. 

The one with the radio nodded. "A little."

"Good, then get over here." The man did. Harm handed
him the rope. "What’s your name?"

"Donald-- Don," the man replied. 

"All right, Don. Hopefully, you understand what I’m
doing here." He glanced at the tree line on the far
side of the small clearing. "Take the rope and loop it
around that tree." He pointed to the appropriate one.
It had a thick trunk and shaggy bark that might
provide some added friction. "You’re going to have to
lower me. There’s not nearly enough rope here to
rappel. It’s going to be close as is." The tree he’d
indicated stood a good twenty, twenty-five, feet from
the lip. 

Don nodded and went. Harm watched him for a moment to
make sure he really did have some clue what he was
supposed to do, then strapped on the climbing harness.
He looked up when his ears reported the blade noise of
the Temptation Cruise helicopter. It was too high
pitched to be the Coast Guard chopper.

The bright yellow helicopter crested the mountains on
the far side of the valley then dipped downward for a
better look. Somewhat to Harm’s surprise, the pilot
kept a goodly distance between his bird and the cliff.
He was grateful. Had the helicopter come too close,
the vibrations could have further jeopardized Nikki’s
life, and his own. The helicopter flew back and forth,
seeming to pace midair as the passengers watched what
was happening.

Harm made himself ignore everything but his climbing
gear. He attached the rope to his harness and checked
the tension. Don stood ready with the other end of the
rope looped around the tree. He had threaded it behind
his back to allow him to use his body weight to
counter Harm’s. Nodding to Don, Harm walked to the
edge of the cliff, turned, and slowly leaned back over
empty space. The rope and harness took his weight.
Harm began to walk down the cliff.

He drew even with the bush Nikki clung to just about
the time his line lurched to a stop. He could see her
through the branches, scraped and bloodied and staring
up at him with desperate hope in her eyes. She had
wrapped one elbow around the base of the bush, a stalk
perhaps two inches in diameter. Harm could see where
the bush had begun to tear away from the cliff,
exposing long, skinny roots that snaked back into the
stone.

"Don’t move," Harm told her. She nodded and tightened
her grip on the bush.

He looked up. "Don, I need about three more feet!" he
called toward the invisible men above. He couldn’t
quite reach her from there.

After a moment, the second cameraman, whose name Harm
didn’t know, appeared at the edge. He appeared to
still be filming. "He says there’s no more! He’s at
the tree!" he called down.

Harm muttered a string of curses. Three feet short.
Now what? Nikki had already dropped her backpack, so
there was no real way to lighten the load the
overburdened bush was carrying.

The idea that leapt into Harm’s mind made him shake
his head at himself. No, too dangerous. But even as he
thought it, the bush gave way another inch. Nikki let
out a little mewl of terror. 

Harm tightened his grip on the rope. I must be out of
my mind. 

Very carefully, Harm inverted himself until he was
dangling headfirst with his back to the uneven stone.
The climbing harness really wasn’t intended to be used
that way. It wasn’t secure. Harm felt the nylon straps
bite into his hip bones. That contact was now the only
thing that kept him from falling five hundred feet or
more. Luckily, Harm wasn’t intimidated by heights. He
hooked the rope with one ankle like a circus performer
to give him better stability and extended his arms
under the bush toward Nikki.

"You ready to get out of here?" he asked casually, as
if he were talking about leaving a restaurant. The
more confident she was, the higher her chances of
survival.

Nikki nodded, her face lighting with a tiny smile. 

"All right, then. Take your right hand and reach over
and grab my wrist. Not my hand, my wrist. Do you
understand?"

She nodded again, swallowing convulsively. "Just don’t
drop me, o.k.?" Very slowly, she let go with her right
hand and reached for him. Harm had to smile. She was
doing her best to be game, and was keeping her head.

Her fingers closed on his wrist. Harm wrapped his hand
around hers in return, keenly aware of how small her
arm seemed in his grip. Nikki’s other arms remained
locked around the bush’s trunk and still bore the
majority of her weight. Her legs dangled over empty
space, making it impossible for her to brace herself.

Harm kept his gaze locked with Nikki’s. "O.k. Now for
the hard part. You have to let go of the bush." 

Nikki blanched.

Harm stared into her eyes, trying to impart courage to
her from that contact. "Gravity will swing you this
direction, but you aren’t going to fall. I’ve got you.
I’m not going to let go, so you aren’t going to fall."
That is, as long as me and this harness stay properly
connected. He smiled encouragingly, not letting his
thoughts show.

"Ready?"

Nikki’s grip on the bush tightened. She took a deep
breath, her eyes terrified. "I can’t."

"Yes, you can. Look at me, Nikki." Obediently, her
eyes fastened on him. "Do you trust me?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"I will not let you fall. Now let go of the bush and
reach for me." He held out his other hand.

With a convulsive motion, Nikki released her hold on
the shrub. Just for a moment it seemed like her hand
would cross the distance to his, but then gravity took
hold. She swung free, hanging solely from the one arm
Harm held. She screamed in terror, her free hand
instinctively flinging outward at the sensation of
falling.

His own heart pounding in fear as the harness shifted
against his hips, Harm reached for her. "Grab my
hand!"

Nikki reached up blindly and after a few very scary
moments, Harm managed to capture her wrist. The change
in momentum swung them both into the stone cliff. Harm
grunted in pain as sharp protrusions jabbed him in the
back.

As he’d intended, Nikki hung facing toward the cliff.
He pulled her upward by brute strength, his shoulders
screaming. "Get your toes into the rock." The
instruction came out as a gasp. The point where the
stone wall dipped inward was now approximately even
with her knees. 

Nikki scrambled, but managed to get her feet up and
planted. As she began to shift her weight to her legs,
she was able to raise herself, putting her head level
with Harm’s. The precarious position meant he was
still straining to keep her from falling backward, but
it was a lot better than it had been.

"Good. Now find a hand hold," he told her.

Following his instructions, Nikki got her hands onto
the rocks and was soon clinging to the sheer stone
face. Harm let go of her completely. He shifted
himself a couple of feet away and gratefully turned
right side up. Spots danced in front of his eyes for a
moment, something he was familiar with from pulling
g’s. He ignored it.

Now in a more secure position but still a bit higher
than Nikki, Harm could reach down with one hand to
grab the back waistband of her khaki shorts, steadying
her as she inched her way upward. Harm could see her
limbs trembling with each movement and guessed she
wouldn’t be able to do much more. Silent tears trailed
down her cheeks, though the only sound she made was
the harsh gasping of her breath.

When she’d climbed to a point that put her even with
him, Harm simply moved over behind her, straddling
her. He found solid footholds, then wrapped one arm
around her ribcage, supporting her and bracing them
both against the stone face. Nikki’s hands closed
spasmodically around his arm. A tiny sob escaped her
as she leaned into him.

Harm took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel
relief.

"We made it," he told her with an encouraging smile.
"It’s going to be all right. We can wait here for the
Coast Guard search and rescue team." He made himself
say the name out rather than calling it SAR, as he
normally would. He yelled up to Don, telling him to
tie off the line. He had to be getting very tired.

Tucked against his chest, Nikki was silent. They
waited. Ten minutes later, the whump whump of the
Coast Guard’s HH-60 recovery helicopter filled the air
around them. Harm turned his head to look, spotting
the distinctive orange and white paint scheme easily
as the helicopter approached. The Temptation Cruise
helicopter backed off a little further, probably at
the Coast Guard pilot’s instruction.

Harm and Nikki watched as the HH-60 came to a hover
above them. The door opened and a crewman slowly
descended on a line. Harm could see the second harness
attached just below the crewman. The pilot’s aim was
dead on. The crewman came straight to them. 

"You folks o.k.?" he asked when he reached them.
Beneath the white helmet and tinted visor, his face
was nearly invisible.

Harm nodded. "We’re fine now."

The crewman braced himself against the stone as he and
Harm worked to fasten the second harness around Nikki.

"Well done, sir," the crewman told Harm as he tested
the connections. 

"Thanks." Harm bit his lip. It felt odd to be sirred
as a civilian rather than as an officer. He wondered
how much he’d done to compromise his mission by his
actions that day. Not that he would have done anything
differently, but…

"Are you ready?" the crewman asked Nikki. 

She nodded, but as the winch inside the helicopter
began to reel them up, she grabbed for Harm, nearly
strangling him in the process of trying to get her
arms around his neck. Her eyes were wide, terrified.

"Don’t let go of me! I don’t want to fall." She buried
her face against his neck.

The crewman halted the winch with a quick hand signal
to his partner in the helicopter while Harm struggled
to loosen Nikki’s death grip.

"Hey." He managed to gain enough space to look into
her pale, drawn face. She’d kept her head while her
life depended on it, but now she was losing the battle
with hysteria. "You’re safe, o.k.? The crewman is
going to take you up to that helicopter up there, and
then he’ll come back for me." He pointed upward as he
spoke.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

At that, she let go. Harm watched as she was taken up
into the helicopter. When the crewman returned, he
quickly attached the rescue line to his harness and
released the other one. Drifting free of the cliff,
Harm balanced his weight in preparation for the short
ride up to the chopper. It wasn’t quite like flying to
hang suspended like that, but it was still fun.

"You’ve done this before," the crewman said as the
winch hauled them upward. His tone made it a question.

Harm considered his reply. He could say any number of
things, make all kinds of excuses, but it was hard to
be so conservative after the events of the past
half-hour. 

Instead, he winked at the crewman and said nothing.

#

Mac was nearly frantic by the time the Coast Guard
helicopter appeared over the trees. All she knew was
that someone from Harm’s party had gone over a cliff
and there’d been a rescue attempt. All of the other
contestants’ groups had been recalled to the landing
to wait for news. Since then, Mac’s imagination had
conjured every possible scenario in which Harm was
either badly hurt or killed, though she knew he was
probably the least likely person to fall off a cliff.
He didn’t take stupid risks. But all she could think
of was how much it would hurt to lose him now that
she’d finally found him.

The HH-60 settled on the concrete landing pad that had
been constructed for the show, its rotors throwing up
a choking cloud of sand and dust. Covering her mouth
with her hand, Mac struggled forward. She waited
impatiently at the edge of the pad as the rotors wound
down.

The main door opened in the side of the aircraft and a
crewman in an orange jumpsuit climbed out. He turned
to help a rather battered-looking Nikki Upton out of
the helicopter. Harm followed on his own, and Mac’s
heart leapt into her throat. Some small part of her
brain catalogued his condition, noting the bits of
blood that decorated his elbows and streaked his
shirt, and the painful deliberation with which he
moved. But when he caught sight of Mac he smiled his
perfect, patented flyboy smile, and all of her fears
evaporated.

Mac rushed forward. For the first time in their many
years of friendship, she allowed herself to act on the
feelings that surged inside her whenever Harm put
himself in danger. She threw herself into her
husband’s arms, indulging her need to hold him, touch
him.

Harm hugged her back. "Hey, Ninja Girl. Don’t tell me
you were worried about me." His voice was full of
laughter.

Mac grinned, knowing he could read the truth in her
eyes. "Nah. I just missed you."

Chuckling, Harm released her, but kept an arm about
her waist as they moved away from the helicopter. Mac
was aware of Nikki Upton watching them from where the
Coast Guard medic was examining her, a peculiar
expression on her face. Mac deliberately turned away.

"What happened?" she asked Harm.

He shook his head. "I guess she was standing at the
edge of the cliff. It gave way, and she fell about
ninety feet before managing to stop her fall." He
glanced in Nikki’s direction. "She’s in pretty good
shape, all things considered."

"Thanks to you, no doubt."

He grinned, but whatever reply he might have made was
lost when one of the Coast Guard crew approached them.
He held a first aid kit in one hand.

"Sir, I came to make sure you’re all right. You’re
bleeding in a couple of places that I can see."

Harm glanced down at himself, obviously surprised,
then shrugged. Mac helped him shed his ruined shirt,
noting how gingerly he moved with new concern.

"What did you do? Crack a rib?" She kept her voice
light. She’d seen Harm chafe when his various
girlfriends had tried to mother him. She doubted she’d
have much more success.

Shaking his head, Harm settled on the edge of the
landing pad. "No, it’s all in my shoulders. I’m sure I
pulled something-- probably a few somethings." He gave
her a rueful smile as she sat down beside him. "I’m
getting too old to play hero."

Mac looked him over. He was a mess of scrapes and
bruises, but nothing that looked like it would hurt
for more than a few days. Her eyes traced the clean
lines of his chest, watching the subtle play of
muscles as he moved, breathed.

"I don’t think so."

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until the
crewman tending Harm chuckled. Mac flushed and looked
away, covering her mouth with one hand. Yep, that’s
me. Harmon Rabb’s personal groupie. The thought made
her smile.

After a moment, Harm shifted his seat until his thigh
brushed hers. "So how was your day, dear?"

Mac chuckled. "It was fine until you called me dear."

He laughed. Mac joined him. She was amazed by how
different she felt now compared to all the other times
she’d been with Harm after he came back from something
dangerous. Then, she’d had to fight to keep her fear,
her rage, her relief all bottled up-- invisible. Today
she could openly admit her relief and laugh her fears
away.

Mac looked at her husband, wondering why. There are no
more regrets between us, she finally decided. That was
the difference. Hopefully, they would never have to
live with regrets again, not where each other was
concerned.

Mac reached over to take Harm’s hand, relishing the
feel of his fingers closing around hers. No more
regrets, she repeated, this time making the words a
promise.