(Contains adult subject matter.)

Chapter One

"Happily ever after sucks."

The statement, issued over steaming cups of cappuccino at the nearly empty, local coffee bar, startled Crimson. She looked across the table at Jane to see if she could discern mirth in her friend's face. There was none. Jane sat stiffly with absolutely stone-faced solemnity.

When did this sudden change of heart strike? Crimson had long envied Jane's wonderful marriage to Hunter. She'd seen a closeness between the two rarely exhibited by most of the couples in her acquaintance. Even in their parenting of the twin terrors-their sons Ace and Reggie-it was as if Jane and Hunter were of one mind, one heart.

Even Aunt Scarletta often commented that even though it took some conniving by their friends to get Jane and Hunter together in the first place, theirs was a match made in heaven. Or more precisely, in the wilds of the Adirondack Mountains, with the help of Aunt Scarletta, Uncle Reginald and Horace.

Though, it simply proved what she knew from personal experience. "Happily ever after" existed only as a fantasy. There, of course, was the illusion of it-carefully promoted through the kind of books Jane wrote and Crimson edited. And there might be those whose expectations were so low that they believed they had found it-only to become ultimately disappointed, as no doubt Jane was.

Crimson had been caught up in the myth of it all herself, hoping that she was merely cynical and that if one were truly blessed they could find that perfect soul mate. Of all the couples she knew, Crimson had believed only two couples possessed that "happily ever after" luck-Hunter and Jane and Aunt Scarletta and Uncle Reginald. And now, it seemed there was only one left. The thought saddened her hardened heart. How soon would Aunt Scarletta and Uncle Reginald discover they had to settle for something less?

"You find that shocking, don't you?" Jane accused, lazily stirring a spoon in her over-sized mug.

"Well…err…yes. Yes, I do find that hard to believe that you'd admit there was some trouble in paradise." Crimson broke a piece of biscotti and dunked it into her cup. "I mean…you and Hunter…well, you just always seem so happy. So content. Pure domestic bliss."

Jane groaned loudly, slouching back against her chair and bringing both fists down on the tabletop. "See, that's exactly it. We are happy. Too happy. And everything is simply perfect between us."

"And this is bad…how?" Crimson attempted to keep from chuckling at the fantastically exasperated look on Jane's face. Inside, a flicker of hope rekindled itself. Maybe someday, if she were just as lucky…

Jane raised her eyebrows and looked at Crimson through lowered lids. "Ever try dealing with perfect? No problem that's insurmountable? Nothing that we can't tackle together? I married Hunter so that I could love and support him in good times and bad…but there just haven't been any bad times! I feel half cheated."

"I guess I don't get it. Ninety-nine percent of the world population would kill to be in a truly happy marriage. I repeat," Crimson replied, brushing biscotti crumbs from her fingers, "this is bad…how?"

"It's just too…too predictable. I bet insurance companies could put actuaries out of business just by taking a look at Hunter's and my life."

Leave it to Jane the author to start throwing the hefty words around when she felt frustrated. Crimson shook her head and raised her hands to interrupt. "Actuaries? How so?"

"You know…those mathematicians that insurance companies hire to determine how long people are going to live-it's what they base their rates on."

"And just how could you and Hunter put them out of business?" Crimson rather enjoyed the sight of the usually unflappable Jane in rather a large flap. She'd seen her best friend in the full glory of managing and coping: balancing Ace on one hip, chatting on the cell phone she'd tucked under her chin while she bandaging Reg's scraped knee and welcoming Hunter home with a kiss all at the same time. There were moments when Crimson actually wondered if Jane was in reality "Superwoman." While she admired Jane greatly, Crimson found perverse pleasure that Jane was just as human as anyone else.

"Because they could base the average life span on the ultimately average husband and his equally average wife. Our entire life is predictable. Predictable. Boring. Mundane. Tedious. Dull. Dreary. Mind-numbing. Tiresome. Unexciting. Monotonous. Humdrum. And worst of all, uninspiring."

Jane's mouth dropped open. Then, she looked away, an almost guilty look on her face. "It's not," she replied softly. "It's just not."

How could she tell Crimson that while every other aspect of her life was as perfect as possible, she was failing in one big way…her career? With the exception of the summer she'd met Hunter, Jane had never had a problem creating a magical world of love and romance in her novels. And the writer's block she'd suffered that summer, five years earlier, was minor compared to the one she suffered now.

Jane glanced back at Crimson. She could see amusement in her friend's deep green eyes, as Crimson toyed with a lock of long, auburn hair with graceful long fingernails. Crimson's resemblance to her Aunt Scarletta, Jane's adored mother-in-law, went more than skin-deep. Scarletta had also seen humor in Jane's predicament. But this wasn't funny. Not at all.

"What's the sweat? Just ask Reginald for an extension on your deadline. Something will come to you, Jane. It always does," Crimson declared, flicking her hair back over her shoulder before picking up her cup. "Just last week I had to ask him to give extensions to two of my authors. Sure, it screws up the production schedule a bit, but it's still manageable."

"There's a big difference between you, as an editor with the company, to ask for an extension and me to ask my father-in-law for one." Jane shook her head and checked her watch. "Just can't disappoint Reginald. No way. And most of all, I can't disappoint all of those lovely people who think that romance begins and ends with my books. They're the ones who made me successful…keep me successful. I just can't disappoint them or try to shove off something that's just not my best."

"So what's the solution?" Crimson asked, becoming very serious.

"I don't know. I've thought and I've thought about this. And the key lies with that fact that I'm just not inspired."

"Your life can't be all that predictable," Crimson argued. "Not with my godsons…no way."

"Want to bet on that? Within the next two minutes, Hunter is going to call me and ask what we're doing for dinner. Which is just a waste of time. What do we do every Thursday evening for dinner? Hunter will stop on the way home from the office and rent a couple of movies. I'll pick up a pizza after I stop to collect the twins from kids' tumble time.

"Then, I'll toss a salad while Hunter sets the table and corrals the boys into their booster chairs. After dinner, I get to wash dishes and clean the tossed salad off the table, the floors and the walls where the boys will have thrown it, while Hunter wrestles them into their bath. Precisely thirty minutes later, we're all going to sit down in the den and watch Movie #1-G-rated and suitable for the entire family.

"While the first movie rewinds, we'll listen to prayers and tuck the boys in for the night. Then, Hunter will pop a bowl of microwave popcorn while I get the boys' clothes ready for the morning. Then, it's back to the den, where we'll cuddle up on the sofa, munch on popcorn and watch Movie #2. First and third Thursdays of the month-something cute and romantic. Second and fourth Thursdays of the month-action adventure. I tell you-the mediocrity of it all is pure hell."

"Jane…you have a writer's imagination and storyteller's soul." Crimson laughed, as she motioned for the waiter to refill their cups. "You and Hunter are two vitally alive people. You're not going to tell me that you, an award-winning romance writer, can't zap a little romance and mystery back into your marriage."

Jane bit her bottom lip and considered confessing it all to Crimson. What would Crimson's reaction be if she told her that there didn't even seem an opportunity any more to pursue romance with her husband? It hadn't been too bad after the twins were born, once Jane was pronounced fit to resume intimacy with her husband.

Not too bad? Heck, they'd gone at each other like mad rabbits crazed by the noon day sun. It seemed for months their life had centered on adoring the babies and adoring each other's bodies with a passion Jane had never known possible.

Then, somehow, they'd slipped into a rut. Jane, too tired from running after toddlers and punching her keyboard, couldn't seem to summon up the energy for a quickie, let alone hours of unadulterated love making. And damn it, Hunter just seemed to accept that she was too tired and would give her a chaste peck on the cheek, roll over in bed and instantly fall into a deep sleep. So, Jane would lie there sexually frustrated, too tired to either do something about her frustration or fall asleep easily, while he would saw logs and shake the timbers with his deep snoring. That ability of his to just simply close his eyes and sleep really annoyed her. Then again, his placid acceptance that they wouldn't make love totally torked her off.

Not that there hadn't been times during the past two years that they'd thrown caution to the wind and reverted to their previous bunny banging behavior. But the dry spells became longer and longer. Jane imagined she could count the number of times they'd made love just in the last month on both hands. Something was definitely wrong.

She shouldn't be dumping her troubles on Crimson. It wasn't fair. Especially not after all that Crimson had gone through just a year ago, even though she seemed fine now. On the brink of marriage to Samuel-never just Sam or Sammy-Crimson returned to their apartment unexpectedly one afternoon and discovered her underwear tossed all over the living room. Thinking that perhaps this was simply a kinky way to greet her, Crimson had silently stripped off her clothes and stolen into the bedroom to surprise Samuel.

As she'd told Jane, through heaving sobs and the consumption of two boxes of tissues later that evening, she was the one who'd been surprised-by the sight of Samuel, Mr. Uptight Stockbroker, and his partner on Wall Street, Joshua, both dressed in her clothes and comparing fashion hints in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom.

Somehow, Samuel's suggestion that they were trying to decide what to wear for Halloween struck Crimson as false. After all, it had only been June.

Jane shuddered at the thought and mentally kicked herself in the butt. After what Crimson had gone through, Jane's problems seemed pretty petty.

The trilling sound from her cellular phone jarred Jane from her reverie. She sighed, knowing that it was Hunter.

Crimson really wished she could find some way to cheer Jane up. She hated it when her friends hurt-especially Jane. It had been Jane who welcomed her into the family when her aunt had married Reginald. Jane who convinced her to ask Reginald for a job when the tedium of working as a copy editor for a newspaper in upstate New York was driving her slowly insane. It was Jane who picked her to be Ace and Reg's godmother. And it was Jane to whom she turned when Sammy the Slime showed his true colors-her turquoise sheath. In a way, she owed Jane her life.

She watched Jane fish through her enormous purse, pulling yo-yos, balls and blocks from it, before extracting her ringing phone. Jane rolled her eyes heavenward as she flipped the phone open and began speaking.

"Yes, darling. I'll pick up the pizza right after I get the boys…Well, how about something with a little action in it-maybe that new James Bond…oh that's right, we had action last week…Okay, how about instead I pick up some cheese and wine? Hunter, it wouldn't be a bother. Really…okay…yeah, I bought more popcorn when I was at the store. Okay…see you in a couple of hours."

Jane slowly folded the phone shut, sighed and tossed it back into her purse. Crimson's heart broke at the sight of the sadness tinting Jane's eyes.

"Jane…this is up to you. Only you can save your marriage."

"Really, Crim, I don't think we're quite that desperate yet. We're just in a rut and I'm having a tough time writing…it'll pass. Please, don't worry about me…about us."

Crimson shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest. "It just starts that way. But, if you don't take some really dynamic action, you're going end up one day coming home and finding Hunter in your best Chanel sheath. Do you want that?"

Now it was Jane's turn for amusement. Her laughter rang out. "Somehow, I don't think I have to worry about that one."

Glad she'd started to cheer Jane up, Crimson continued, "Sure, that's the way it was between Sammy Slug and me, Jane. We were great at the beginning, but when things started getting a bit humdrum-he went straight for my Versace and Klein." Crimson reached across the table and grabbed both of Jane's wrists. "I'm telling you, Jane, do something now. I'm begging you. If for no other reason than to save your wardrobe. Do you know what it's like to burn every stitch of clothing you own because you just don't know whether or not it was used for some sick fantasy?"

"Crimson…stop," Jane laughed long and loud, as she pulled her wrists free. "If you don't stop, I'm going to embarrass myself. After all, I'm not quite to the Depends generation yet…but if you keep it up…"

"But, I'm serious, Jane. Today he's microwaving popcorn, but if this keeps up--tomorrow it could be puppies or pigeons. And what kind of legacy is that for the boys? I can hear it now…as they're both lying on some shrink's couch in a few years. 'Daddy and Mommy were dying of sexual frustration. Mommy couldn't write. And Daddy couldn't stop himself from dressing up in Mommy's lingerie and nuking Chipper the Chihuahua in the microwave.'"

"We don't have a chihuahua," groaned Jane, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Oh…not today…but who knows? I've seen how Hunter goes ape over pet store windows and all those adorable edible puppies in the window. It's just a matter of time, unless you do something." Crimson paused to let Jane collect herself. "Seriously, darlin', you are the one who needs to do something about this. Men are men, my past experience aside. If you really want to solve your problems, you need to drop kick Hunter through the bedposts and score many, many touchdowns. Because for the most part, men are complacent."

"It takes two to tango, Crim. Lord, see how frustrated I am…I've been reduced to exchanging metaphors with you."

"Ahh…but it only takes one to lead the dance. And from the sounds of it, that's going to have to be you. Why don't you just sweep Hunter off to the wilds again, trip him, beat him to the forest floor and keep him there until he begs for mercy?"

"Two reasons…both of whom I need to get going to pick up. See, Hunter and I have never really had more than a day or two to ourselves since we were married. Remember, nobody had to count on their fingers when we were married to figure out just how pregnant I was. I darned near delivered at the reception. And since then, we've just never had the time to…"

"Then make the time," Crimson said firmly. "Make the time. Grab that man and head for the high country."

"And just who's going to take care of Ace and Reg if we did that? I can't have Reginald and Scarletta do it. In the first place, even if they were available, they'd spoil the boys to no end. You've seen how they bow to the boys' every wish. And I won't hire a stranger to take care of the boys. No thanks. I doubt we could buy enough liability insurance to cover the potential damages. Besides, it would take Hunter at least six months to rearrange his schedule just to take off a weekend."

"These are not problems, Jane. I'm the boys' godmother. I'll take care of them. Heck, just give me the keys to the cabin at the estate and we'll be happy as clams. You know how the boys love it out there. And, with the office Hunter built you, I can just keep on working from there."

Jane shook her head. "You, I would trust to the heavens. And I know the boys would have a delightful time with their Aunt Crimson. But, that still doesn't solve the problem of Hunter managing to take time off."

"Look at it this way-what would happen if something desperate and dire happened? If you got sick or if Reginald had a heart attack or something? Wouldn't Hunter drop everything and take off? You bet he would. And he'd take care of business the way we can do that now-with phones and faxes and modems."

"He'd still never agree to just dropping everything and taking off somewhere. Oh, maybe for a weekend, but we'd need more time than that."

"Then, don't give him a choice," Crimson replied, a mischievous smile breaking across her face. "Have you ever thought of taking Hunter on a treasure hunt-with you as the ultimate prize?"

Horace adjusted the lens on the telescope he'd set up in Reginald's office. Reginald wouldn't mind. In fact, he'd probably try to pull rank to take the first look through it. Not that Horace would ever give him a chance to see the wondrous beauty he hoped to see up on the ridge in back of the manor. Still, it was a good thing that Horace and Scarletta were off to Berlin for some big mucky-muck publishers' convention.

For decades, Horace had worked as the estate manager for his lifelong friend's home high in the Adirondack Mountains. It was as much his home as it was Reginald and Scarletta's. And thankfully, it still was a home. He and Scarletta had joined together to dislodge Reginald from the crazy notion that he had about moving his entire publishing company up here.

If Reginald had succeeded, bringing scores of busybodies and snoops to the manor every day, none of the glorious wildlife would have come within a mile of the place. Especially the wildlife that currently captured Horace's attention.

Horace focused and refocused the telescope, scanning the ridge from left to right. Anxious, he glanced down at his watch. If this little beauty stayed to her schedule, she should be appearing any moment. It was inspiration alone that brought the telescope to mind just that morning. Binoculars were okay…but the telescope should really bring her into clear focus. It was worth the effort to haul it down from the attic and set it up.

Checking through the eyepiece, Horace found himself holding his breath in anticipation. Finally, there she was…

"Uncle Horace, I've just been going over the accounts and…Uncle Horace? Just what are you doing?"

Totally captivated by his view, Horace jumped about six inches at the unexpected and unwelcome interruption. Damn, Horace thought, as he spun guiltily around, attempting to shield the telescope from his nephew Jake's sight. "Nothing. I'm busy. Go away."

"Uncle Horace, if I'm going to take over here when you retire, you have to explain your accounting system to me. I have no idea what any of these abbreviations mean."

Horace walked forward, grabbed his nephew by the elbow and, with a strength that belied his age, pulled him toward the door. "I'll deal with that-and you-later. I told you I was busy."

Jake pulled his arm away from his uncle and swept the door shut with one foot. "No! You're not putting me off again. I know you're not looking forward to retirement, but I keep telling you that it's not the end of the world. Reginald and I are both concerned about you. Ever since he got married, you just haven't been the same. That's why Reginald hired me. So you could take off some time and just enjoy life."

"I'd enjoy it a lot more if you'd just leave me alone for about the next half hour," Horace insisted, spitting out the words forcefully from between gritted teeth. Couldn't the boy see that he had other things on his mind than those infernal account books? Account books could wait. The wonders of nature could not…or would not if the routine established the past few days was any indication.

Jake pushed his way past Horace and tossed the papers he'd held on the desk. As he swung around to speak, Horace noticed that his gaze stopped on the telescope.

"This wasn't here before. Is this what all the grunting and groaning I heard about an hour ago was all about? Just what is so fascinating?" Jake took a step toward the telescope, but in three strides, Horace stepped across the room and managed to nudge the telescope just enough to change its focus.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself about," Horace said, adjusting the collar of his blue chambray work shirt. When had it gotten so warm in the study? Sure, it was a lovely spring day, but this high in the mountains there weren't many times when Horace raised a sweat, even in the middle of July and not unless he was completing some hard physical labor.

Concern etched the tiny lines around his nephew's blue eyes. Damn, he didn't want to worry the boy. He just wanted some privacy while he communed with nature.

"Are you sure you're okay? You aren't coming down with something, are you, Uncle Horace?" Jake laid a hand on Horace's brow, causing Horace to jerk away. "You probably over did it when you brought that telescope down here. Why didn't you just ask me to fetch it?"

And let the boy in on his secret? He'd sooner die of embarrassment, dry up and float away like dust on the wind! If he didn't want to tip his hand, Horace needed to think of some way to distract the boy. Horace had never prided himself of quick thinking. He usually left that to Reginald. Reginald was the crafty, sly fox. Horace was more the slow, persevering type. Unfortunately, Reginald was about a million miles away. No help there.

"Uncle Horace, would you answer me? What was so all-fired important to look at that you couldn't just ask for my help?"

Horace wished the boy would just shut his trap for five minutes and give a man some time to think. He searched his brain…coming up and immediately discarding a dozen excuses. Finally, he just shrugged as inspiration hit. "Yep, I think I'm comin' down with something. Why don't you go to the kitchen and get me a glass of water?"

"Be right back. For heaven's sake, Uncle Horace. You're getting all red in the face and sweating bullets. Why don't you just sit down before you fall down," Jake tossed at him before striding out of the study.

With the sound of Jake's footsteps echoing down the hallway, Horace dashed to the door, slammed it shut and locked it. It'd be a cold day in the hot place before that boy could out-smart him; he chuckled to himself as he rushed back to the telescope.

Bringing the lens back around, Horace peered through the eyepiece and refocused. Ahhh. No disappointment. The routine had been followed. He only wished he hadn't missed the first part of nature's show.

Jake heard the slamming of the study door and the click of the lock. Now just what was that old man up to? It'd be a cold day in hell before he'd let his beloved, but obviously senile, uncle get the better of him. He reached in his pocket and fingered the key ring that held all the passkeys for the manor.

Slipping up to the study door on tiptoe, Jake slowly and silently slid the appropriate key into the lock. Painstakingly, he turned the key so slowly that the tumbling of the lock was barely audible. Thankful that Horace kept all the hinges in the manor well oiled, Jake turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open silently.

He was shocked by the vision before him. Uncle Horace's eye was glued to the eyepiece of the telescope while his hips were pivoting back and forth and his hands were tightened over two of the legs of the tripod upon which it set.

"Oh, baby!" Horace hummed. "Oh, yeah. Do that one again!"

What the hell was he looking at? Had Uncle Horace been out in the woods so long that he was getting some kind of vicarious kick watching the deer and the rabbits going at it? Jake had only jokingly suggested his uncle was suffering from senility. Perhaps it wasn't a joke, after all.

"That's it, darlin'. To the left. Oh, yeah. Up and down. Up and down. That's it," Horace continued, before letting out a long and low growl.

Jake noticed a pair of field glasses on the desk. Quietly, he stepped to the desk and picked them up. Horace was obviously so enamored at what he was watching that he was oblivious to Jake's presence. Standing directly behind Horace, he brought the binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the ridge, trying to pick out what Horace found so fascinating.

That was when Jake focused on the body of a woman standing on a blanket and evidently performing some sort of yoga-in the nude.

"Holy smokes!" Jake tossed the binoculars into a chair as if they'd burned his fingers. Actually, the vision of the sixty-something woman bending and stretching naked in the noonday sun was probably permanently burned on his vision.

Startled, Horace jumped as well and spun around, accidentally tipping the telescope. He turned around to grab it, but was too late. The telescope crashed through the window, creating a din of smashing glass and lattice. Jake looked from the broken window up toward the ridge just in time to see the woman grab her blanket and tear off down the other side. In seconds, she was hidden from their sight.

"Ahh, damnation, boy. Now look what you've gone and done." Horace kicked at the few shards of glass that had fallen inside the study. "And I bet you scared her off for good."

"Uncle Horace…wha…who…wha…What the hell is going on here?" Jake demanded, brushing aside Horace to reach for the telescope and pull it back in the study. It would probably take him all day to fix this window. And that was time he didn't have to spare at the moment.

"Finally find out what Reginald's been carping about all these years and you have to go and ruin it for me," Horace grumbled, collapsing into an armchair. He immediately jumped back up, pulling the pair of binoculars from under him. He tossed them on the desk, managing to scatter all of Jake's account papers, before again dropping into the chair.

"What did I ruin? Good heavens, Uncle Horace, have you no shame? In the first place, just what in heavens did you think you were doing spying on some wrinkled, naked old lady? In the second place, just how long has this been going on?"

Instantly Horace leaped to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his side and spitting fire. "Don't you dare call her that!"

"Call her what?" Jake stood at a total loss as to the reason for his uncle's vehement, albeit verbal, attack.

"'Wrinkled, naked old lady!' I won't have you calling her that. Not today. Not ever. No one is ever going to speak so disrespectfully about the woman I love!"

Jake's jaw dropped open and he felt his body slouch as if he'd just been slugged in the gut by a five-ton dead weight. As long as Jake had known his uncle, Horace had never shown more than a passing and polite interest in any woman. To the best of Jake's knowledge, Horace hadn't displayed any interest in the opposite sex for his entire seventy-some years. He'd doubted that Horace had even dated anyone in his prime. What would make him fall in love at this late date?

"'Woman you love?'" Jake finally managed to sputter.

Horace took a step toward him, poking Jake in the chest and causing him to step back with each word. "It's taken me near my entire lifetime to get over what Matilda did to me. I finally find my soul mate…and you ruin it for me. Thanks. Thanks a lot!"

As Horace stomped from the room, Jake continued to stare, long after the sight of his indignant and very angry uncle had disappeared. Uncle Horace in love? Worse yet, Uncle Horace in love with some old broad so nuts that she'd strip off her clothes to exercise in full view of anyone who might be passing?

It was obvious that he'd finally taken Reginald up on the job offer just in time. Uncle Horace might not like it, but it was up to Jake to save the old fool from himself.

Hunter unlocked the apartment door and slipped quietly inside. He had a huge surprise for Jane and he just couldn't wait to see the look on her face when he popped it on her. He just hoped it wasn't too much for her.

Tonight, instead of their usual Saturday night Chinese take-out, they were going to be eating Thai. Hot and spicy Thai. He only hoped that she wouldn't be disappointed, that she'd take the surprise in the spirit in which it was given.

Honestly, Jane had created such a dogged routine for the entire family that Hunter was almost fearful of doing anything spontaneous and upsetting her schedule. Spontaneity seemed to have divorced itself from Jane's vocabulary.

Hunter had planned this little surprise carefully. It had occurred to him as they'd sat and watched some sappy, romantic movie just two nights before that it was time to shake Jane out of her doldrums before her anal retentive devotion to schedules and routines infected both him and the boys. So, tonight it was a change in cuisine. If that worked, maybe he'd try to suggest going out to a movie next Thursday-but it would have to be some action adventure flick. They'd already done the romance.

Slipping out of his running shoes, Hunter tossed his keys on the stand by the door and started off toward the kitchen. It was Saturday night. Jane would be in the kitchen, feeding the boys early before getting them ready to let them play alone in their room until it was time for bed.

Saturday nights were theirs alone. Though lately, instead of snuggling comfortably on the couch and working their way to the bedroom, all Jane had wanted to do was drop in their bed and sleep.

It pained him to know that Jane had changed since the boys' had gotten older. He used to boast, to himself, that all it took was one look at her with a raised eyebrow to have her stripping him of his clothes and tackling him when and wherever they happened to be. Now, she seemed immune to "the look."

Her problem couldn't be his fault. God no. He wasn't doing anything different than he'd ever done. Sure, some men might enjoy a bit of change now and then in their lovemaking, but not him. Why mess with perfection?

Pasting a huge smile on his face and holding the bag of Thai food high before him like a brontosaurus brought home by some primitive Neanderthal hunter, Hunter strolled into the kitchen.

It was empty. No busy chatter from the twins. No dishes clanking in the sink as Jane washed them. Jane was no where to be seen. Neither were the boys.

Just as he was about to charge down to the bedrooms to see what major calamity had befallen his family, Hunter noticed a note on the table. He dropped the Thai food to the counter and grabbed the note.

"Dearest darling husband,

"I've left you."

Hunter fell into one of the spindly little dinette chairs at the table. It immediately collapsed beneath him, wooden shards clattering across the imported Italian tile of the floor.

Left him? Not his Jane. Jane would never leave him. She wasn't unhappy. She was just in a rut.

"Oh, God…she's found another man!" Hunter moaned, rolling onto his side and curling in a fetal position, while trying to ignore the broken pieces of chair under him. "No. It can't be another man. Not after me. What other man could make her feel the way I do? She must be sick. Yeah. She's sick. She's probably suffering from post partem depression. That makes normally sane women do insane things."

But post partem depression five years after the births? That didn't seem likely, even in Hunter's agonized mind.

He brought the paper back up, trying to focus on Jane's handwriting through the haze of gathering tears.

"I've left you.

"And I'm holding myself ransom. If you ever want to see me happy and alive again, you will follow the instructions in this letter. No, darling, I'm not nuts. I'm just so sick of the mundane routine we're trapped in that I'm breaking out and hope to take you with me. It's up to you if you want to follow.

"1. In the bedroom, you will find one packed suitcase. Don't worry about adding anything to it. You have everything you need inside.

"2. On top of the suitcase, you will find your briefcase with pretty much everything you'll need to keep up with business while you're gone. You can add whatever you think I might have missed.

"3. Now, you need to get your butt in gear because your flight will be leaving in less than three hours and you still have to get to the airport.

"Don't worry about the boys. Crimson volunteered to baby-sit. She's taking them up to the cabin. In fact, she's probably almost there right now.

"Hurry, darling. I have a bad feeling that our 'happily ever after' depends on this.

"I love you…Rescue me…Jane."

Hunter sat up and looked around. It was obvious that something had sent Jane around the bend. He just couldn't fathom what it might be. All he knew was that she was in trouble and it was up to him to save her.

He bounced to his feet and ran to the bedroom. Everything was exactly as she'd said in the note. His briefcase and suitcase lay on the bed. Quickly, he checked the contents of the briefcase. Jane had packed thoroughly, remembering his laptop computer, portable fax and plenty of spare batteries for those and his cellular telephone. He set the briefcase on the floor and opened the suitcase.

Hunter stared down at its skimpy contents-a leather loincloth, his pocketknife and an airline ticket. Jane certainly believed in packing light. He'd have to toss in a few essentials-like clothing. He picked up the airline ticket and saw a sticky note attached to the top of it.

"If you don't like the kidnap/rescue scenario, you can always think of this as a treasure hunt…and I'm the prize at the end."

Hunter laughed, shocked at the irony of her words. Didn't Jane know that he prized her above all else?

Flipping open the ticket, Hunter laughed again, this time with love and humor. A one-way ticket to Africa. Tarzan was back in business.

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