This night was not turning out the way she planned. She hoped to strengthen her connection to her husband, Austin, but it seemed that tonight wasn't meant to be. Why couldn't some of that luck her brother possessed rub off on her?

The fact remained that Dr. Austin McRae wasn't currently in the building so how could she strengthen anything with him? He seemed so attentive when he was with her, but when he was away -- his eye wandered. She had tried not to notice, but the facts so outweighed the fiction she couldn't do anything but notice.

Sometimes, in the still of the night, she wondered if he truly did love her, or was he only staying with her out of respect for her brother, Lucky, his best friend? Honor McRae spent many sleepless nights contemplating such horrors. She pressed her hands to her face. How had her life gotten so screwed up?

She swallowed the disappointment. Austin, once again, felt more compelled to help his poor patients than fix his dwindling relationship with her. She knew she should brush it off. Doctors needed to doctor, but did they need to do it at all hours of the night and day? If he kept up this pace, she knew her marriage would be one more statistic.

Of course, to Austin, they didn't have a problem. The problem was all in her head. Honor was tired of waking up alone every night and feeling the cool sheet next to her that had never been slept on. She was tired of eating alone except for the occasional dinner out that to him said ‘I love you'. If he loved her, he would be there, wouldn't he?

They had discussed having children once, and Austin knew being a mother was important to her. So why hadn't that happened yet? Was God punishing her for settling for second best?

She released an exaggerated breath. It was silly to think about this now. She had to go explain to Quentin Forsythe, one of the country's most wealthy men, why his daughter and her brother wouldn't be returning to their table.

She took a deep breath and prepared to walk into the wolf's den.

Quentin Forsythe eyed his children walking toward him and smiled.

"Diana. Peter. What a surprise." The Irish man embraced them and took note of their Indian coloring that was thanks to his deceased wife, Joyce. She had been a full blooded American Indian. "You're both looking mighty fine tonight. So, why don't you have equally fine dates attached to those available arms?"

"Daddy, can we not start this again? I'm perfectly capable of finding my own dates," Diana said, with indignant resignation.

They both joined Quentin and Victor Cross at their table. Peter motioned to a waitress and ordered a double scotch. He knew he was going to need it if his father was already on the matchmaking war path. All the unsuspecting available females between twenty-two and thirty had better watch out.

"Of course you are, darling girl. But that doesn't stop me from worrying. Land sakes, you worried your mother silly, while she was alive. She was certain you kids would never find mates on your own if we didn't shove a few in your face now and again." Quentin sighed.

He wasn't such a bad father, was he? He only wanted what was best for his children. Years ago, he and Joyce had been certain they'd never have the big family they dreamed of. So they agreed that adoption was the answer for them. And suddenly, there was pretty Michela, so small in his arms. Small enough to fit in the palm of his hand with room to spare. Such a little darling she was too. Not long after Michela came to live with them, they discovered that Joyce was pregnant with Caine. God had blessed them once again. From then on their family continued to expand steadily. Now that the children had grown up, the steady growth of the Forsythe clan had come to a screeching halt. He wanted some grand-babies to bounce on his knee and spoil. And if that meant a little meddling in their personal lives, so be it. He wasn't against the prospect.

"I see you've gotten yourself out of the hospital long enough to make an appearance for your dear old dad. And don't think I don't appreciate it. I don't see you enough as it is." Quentin hugged Diana again. Such a beautiful woman she'd grown up to be. That straight black hair. The porcelain face that resembled a perfect cameo. He'd think she was gorgeous even if he wasn't her father.

And that Peter, just as striking as Diana. He had more of the Indian in him. Sometimes he even saw traces of a sleek wolf in his profile. Handsome lad. Quentin grabbed Peter's chin and squeezed. "Good bones. Strong foundation. No wonder you're so good-looking." Quentin turned to Victor. "Now if they'd only marry their beautiful selves off and have babies &endash; I'd be a happy man."

Diana Forsythe shook her head and the cascade of hair swished in a blue-black streak. "Please Daddy, not that again. You've been trying to convince us to get married as soon as we were old enough to date What's the rush?"

"Rush? What's the rush, they say? I'm not getting any younger, darling. I want to make sure I'm alive and kicking when you all decide to honor me with grandchildren."

Diana turned to Peter and whispered. "Why is Caine never around when he gets like this? I'd like to see big brother just once drown in the Forsythe matchmaking mire."

Peter snickered and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. "Maybe that can be arranged."

Caine Forsythe spiked a hand through his dark brown mane and wiped the sweat from his brow. He'd been wailing on his saxophone under the hot lights of the main stage for over an hour. It was a heady rush as the music invaded him, then came out of his hands through the instrument.

His tall frame was clothed in a black ribbed t-shirt and form fitting jeans. Not his regular attire for a night at the club, but he had worn the ensemble for a reason. He wanted his clothes to evoke the mood of the music as well. He didn't take to the stage often, but when he did, the music was enthralling and moody, just like he, himself was.

It was nearly one-thirty and the Blues Riff was filled with a variety of people. No one really stood out in the crowd, except Caine and maybe his head waitress, Lila. He liked to call Lila the black bombshell. She would have given those 30's war poster babes a run for their money. He knew she hated the reference, but the more she complained about it, the more often he used it. He was an evil boss, he decided. But that was one of the perks of being in charge.

He was nearly through his second set when Lila waved from the main bar. She held the phone in her hand and kept emphatically pointing at it. When he silently asked who it was, she wrote a name on a piece of paper and flashed it at him.

Caine finished up his set and strode to the bar. His gate was easy, not rushed. He didn't seem hurried about returning the phone call to his brother, Peter.

"What did Peter want?"

Lila's New Orleans accent was thick tonight since the tarot convention was in town and she had landed herself a reading from a fellow Bayou psychic. "Your brother is brooding. You're father is talking his and Diana's ears off about marrying and having babies."

Caine didn't laugh. "There's a convention I'm glad I'm missing. I'm the oldest so I could probably recite to you all the different ways my father has of bringing up holy matrimony. According to him, it's my duty as the first born to continue the family line and create more tiny Forsythe pattering feet." Caine sighed and glanced around the nearly empty bar. "I guess they want me to come and save them?"

"Nah, they want you to come and be interrogated." Lila brought a cigarette to her lips and blew out a line of cloudy smoke.

Caine laughed. "That'll be the day. I've managed to evade the lecture for a few years. I'm not going to let him get his hands on me now."

Lila stared at him in the darkness of the club. He looked like a mixture of cunning warrior and medieval knight. "You're leaving your poor brother and sister to suffer the slings and arrows of your father's torture?"

"If they were foolish enough to go to dinner with him, they deserve what they get."

Piper Ferguson was so tired she only wanted to find a bed and let it swallow her up. That had been the third hotel she had visited and not one of them had a room to spare. Some tarot convention was in town. Just her luck. Her eyes were about to droop so she pulled her rented Saab into the parking area opposite a nightclub called the Blues Riff. The parking area was nearly empty and she guessed she wouldn't have luck finding her brother shackled to a leggy blonde tonight.

Damn him. He knew that her business Intimate Dinners counted on his expertise in the kitchen. She was the brains behind the idea, Gage was the chef. Why did he always seem to disappear when a venture started taking off?

Piper leaned her head on the steering wheel. She had to find a hotel before she completely passed out. The search for her brother could wait until tomorrow. But first, she needed stretch her legs and get some fresh air. It felt good to be out of the car. It seemed like she'd been traveling for days instead of hours. Her flight had been delayed and Gage had not met her at the gate as he promised.

She leaned on the front end of the red convertible and stared at the blues club. It was just the type of place her brother would frequent. Maybe she'd go and see if he was inside. It couldn't hurt and maybe the trip would wake her up a bit. Piper yawned. She really needed to start getting more sleep.

As she reached through the window for her keys and purse, a man slipped out of the shadows. She hadn't been expecting anyone so she wasn't prepared for the attack. His hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled and tried to scream but the shiny blade he held up kept her silent. He pressed her up against his huge masculine form and she felt a sickened thud in her stomach.

Oh, God, she thought. He's going to kill me right in the parking lot.

Honor managed to regain her composure and walked over to Quentin Forsythe's table. There were a few more people seated there now. A lock of long blonde hair fell in her face and she brushed it away. Exactly how, she wondered, did one talk to the richest man in the country? She inwardly laughed. What was she so nervous about. He wasn't God. He was just a man with a lot of money.

"Mr. Forsythe?" Honor cringed as she stuttered trying to say his name.

The large man with white hair stared up at her and smiled. "Hello, little lass."

"Hi." The one word answer was all her mind could manage. This wasn't brain surgery, she thought. Just tell him and get it over with. "My brother Lucky wanted me to tell you..."

Quentin interrupted her when he boomed her brother's name in an Irish baritone that carried across the entire restaurant. "Do sit down, girl. Tell me about your brother."

Honor tried not to stutter again but her heart was thumping so wildly she found it hard to speak fluidly. "Ah &endash; he unexpectedly had to leave and he took your daughter with him."

Quentin's laugh rang out so loud the people at nearby tables turned around to stare. But he didn't notice their eyes on him like she did. He must be used to being the center of attention. "There's a fine lad. Goes after what he wants. I respect that in a man."

Honor smiled then began to inch away from the table. "I'm sorry to interrupt your evening." She glanced at the faces dotting the Forsythe table and felt immediately like she was out of her element. A migraine hinted at the edges of her temples and she raised a hand to her brow to soothe her misery. "I guess I'll go call a cab now."

She couldn't get away before Quentin raised his glass. "A cab? Nonsense! Peter will take you home. Won't you Peter?" He slapped a hand on his son's back.

"Sure pop. Be glad to." Peter felt compelled to kiss the woman. She was getting him out of a horrible night of lecturing. And if she hadn't been a virtual stranger, he would have kissed her.

She was a pretty little thing. Barely stood 5'3" if that. Her petite frame and upturned nose haunted him but it was her flawlessly pale complection that had him fascinated. To him she was a fairy princess, one who stood atop a music box and twirled round and round. Fragile and fascinating. She was so beautiful it was hard to find any flaws at all. Not that he was looking for them at the time.

He took her arm and an electric jolt buzzed up to his brain. The sensation had him reeling, but he wasn't going to let go of her hand. Not only wouldn't his father permit it, he didn't want to release her. The effect was almost drug-like. A natural high. He folded her arm into his and guided her to his car in the underground parking garage.

Peter gazed down at her, a smile plastered across his face. "My lady, you are a Godsend. You have literally saved my life."

Honor regarded him quizzically.

"My father. You met him. He has a pension for meddling in my personal life. Tonight Diana and I were both potential targets. You've just saved me from all out matchmaking war. Thank you."

Honor couldn't help but smile. "Matchmaking, huh? My parents love me, as do my brother and sister, but I doubt they'd resort to interfering in my life to find me a man."

"It was a tradition my grandparents started and my dad feels compelled to continue. His remarks used to be hit and miss, but when my mother died, he took it up as his personal crusade. He'll find us a mate or die trying. From what I understand, he thinks your brother is right for my sister."

Honor smiled again. She seemed to be doing that a lot with this man. "I can't argue with him. He does have good taste."

Prudence Ambrose glanced toward the stairwell and sighed. "Stone, could you go upstairs and see what Rayna has done to poor Mila this time? You'd think the two were real sisters the way they caterwaul at each other sometimes."

She watched as Stone glanced out the window in the direction Mila had gone. Concern marked his face. "In a minute, Mrs. Ambrose," he said absently, as he pushed a chair out of his way and strode through the front door and out to the barn.

At first he thought he had been seeing things but there was no mistaking it. A slim figure in a brown hooded cape slipped into the barn seconds after Mila had gone inside. Bells and whistles went off in his head. Mila was in danger!

"Okay, the coast is clear." Austin McRae watched as Lucky Faraday scooped Michela Forsythe into his arms. The concern on his friend's face was shocking. He'd never seen Lucky so taken with a woman before &endash; especially a woman who was so blatantly lying to him. Austin cursed himself for thinking so negatively, but he couldn't help it. Michela was lying when she said she didn't know him. He didn't want her to start deceiving Lucky as well.

A woman rose and approached them, obviously making her way to the ladies room. Austin stared at the sign behind Lucky's shoulder. Ladies Room. Dammit! They were about to make a clean getaway and suddenly Michela's sister is a factor. She passed through the archway and approached them when a noise from behind distracted her. Diana Forysthe turned around. Austin could hear the mayhem as well. When an automatic weapon fired, he did the only thing he could think of.

Lucky didn't need to be told to take cover. He retreated farther down the dark hallway leading to the back door. Austin lunged for Diana tackling her and removing her from the red laser site he saw dancing on her skin. They fell into a tangle of arms and legs out of harms way.

"Get off of me!" Diana screamed. Her straight black hair fell into her eyes taking the hooligan who had attacked her from her sight.

"Are you out of your mind," Austin snapped. "One of those men out there just tried to kill you."

"Wha..?" She clamped her mouth shut when the nose of a very powerful weapon inched its way through the archway.

The hostile had yet to see either of them. Lucky had already made his escape with Michela. So he didn't have to worry about them. Now all Austin had to do was get Diana out of the restaurant safely. As they lay on the floor, Austin pulled her tighter against him and further into the shadows of the darkened hallway.

A shout from further away drew the man's attention. The gun abruptly disappeared from view as the man walked back into the main ballroom. That shout was their cue. He was getting both of them out of there.

Diana could barely speak. "That man," she said indicating the avenue Lucky had taken. "He was carrying my sister, wasn't he?"

Austin had no reason to lie. "Yes. She fainted, and he's very concerned."

Her pale blue eyes grew wide. "Take me to her," she begged, almost oblivious to the shouting and gunfire in the ballroom. "I can help. I'm a doctor."

Austin stared into the lightest eyes he'd ever seen. "So am I."

Quentin Forsythe took in the scene before him. Men filtered into the room from various sides armed to the teeth with guns the size of Montana. He slid a wary glance to his publishing partner, Victor Cross, who seemed just as surprised to see these men.

A swarthy man with pale amber eyes and a serious expression approached them both. Quentin tried to appear unfazed.

"Hello, my friends," he said in a thick accent. Quentin couldn't tell what region he was from but the man was easily from the Middle East or India. "My name is Carlos. And you are now my prisoners."

A platoon of men circled around Quentin and Victor. Neither man struggled when their arms were bound with a thick heavy rope. The bevy of men all dressed in black withdrew from the restaurant but the one named Carlos stayed behind.

"Sorry to interrupt your evening. Please, enjoy." Carlos seemed sincere about his request. But those in the restaurant could no longer enjoy their night out. They gaped at him as he strode through the tall archway near the front of the glass encased restaurant and vanished into a waiting van parked outside near the curb.

Caine watched as the last few stragglers nursed their drinks. Lila was cleaning up her station and various other employees were doing the same. He grabbed the trash Lila left for him and took it out back to the dumpster.

The alleyway was dark. Darker then he had ever seen it. The moonless sky made the night even more black. He cursed when he found no dumpster where he expected it. The sanitation department had once again left his trash bin at the entrance to the alley. What was their problem, he wondered. Couldn't they pick it up and dump it in one place?

He gnashed his teeth as he walked the remainder of the way to the trash bin. Caine had barely opened the lid of the blue monster before he heard a muffled cry come from the area of the parking lot. The neon orange light from the Orange Banana, a nightclub next door to The Blues Riff painted the parking lot with shafts of light. The ambiance made it easier for him to depict that something was wrong. Catty-cornered from his position and on the opposite side of the parking lot two people struggled. One was a woman. He could see that plain as day.

Caine didn't know why he reacted. Maybe it was the tinny glint from the knife or the sound of her hoarse whimpers but something made him act. He knew it was stupid, that he must be losing his mind, but he was across the parking lot before the instinct to protect himself surfaced.

The sound of his pounding footfalls must have spooked the perpetrator because he suddenly released the woman thrusting her near the front of the automobile. She stumbled trying to regain her balance. The man wearing a ski mask darted to the car lurching the door open. The vehicle rumbled to life.

Caine knew what was going to happen next but he also knew he wasn't going to make it in time. Rubber burned as the perp threw the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot. The woman had no time except to glance up before the car hit her. Her body flew into a pile of trash near the back fence.

Then the car stopped and began to back up.

"NO!" The sound ripped from his throat as the auto impacted her again. Her body disappeared beneath the black trash bags.

Caine managed to dodge the car as it sped out of the parking lot but the man was already forgotten. He raced to where the woman had dropped.

"Oh, God," he whispered. "Please don't let her be dead."