Sam frowned as they left the cover of the trees moments later and stepped out-not by the cottage where they were staying-but near the main house instead. It appeared Mortimer had somehow taken a wrong turn during that wild dash back. She sighed as she spotted the O.P.P. cruiser parked in the driveway and the open door of the house. It looked like the cottage would have to wait.

"I suppose I should find out what's happening," she said reluctantly. She really didn't want to deal with Belmont just then, but knew she had to.

"Yes," Mortimer agreed and then gave her hand a squeeze, drawing her gaze up to his gentle smile. "It's all right. We have plenty of time."

Sam relaxed a little and even managed a small smile as she walked with him to the house, but her smile soon slipped when they entered to find Belmont sitting on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter, laughing at something another officer was saying. It seemed obvious that Mr. Babcock's call to "friends" either hadn't achieved anything, or its effects hadn't yet reached Belmont. This didn't look like investigating to her.

"Oh." Sergeant Belmont's smile died and he stood up as she and Mortimer crossed the room to stand before him. Looking grim now, he nodded and announced, "I came by to give you an update, but you weren't around."

"We were taking a walk," she said calmly. "You should have called the number I gave you, Sergeant. I took my cell phone."

"Hmm," Belmont grunted and then announced, "I've put out a missing person's report across Canada."

Sam nodded and waited to hear what else he'd done... and waited. When he just stood there, she peered at him with disbelief and asked, "And that's it?"

Belmont immediately stiffened up like a bantam rooster about to crow and then snapped belligerently, "Well what the hell do you expect me to do? We've examined the scene. Our crime scene guy took fingerprints and we're running those." He paused and scowled before adding, "Which reminds me, did you two touch anything?"

Sam and Mortimer shook their heads. She'd barely brushed the door and it had slid open. She hadn't touched anything inside except when she'd poked the cheese, and Sam didn't think they'd probably printed that.

"Nothing but the keys," she assured him and then asked, "Did you speak to the Latimers' neighbors?"

"What about?" he asked with surprise. "They wouldn't have seen anything. All these properties are big wooded lots, built for privacy. There's no use talking to them."

"Maybe, but you could try," Sam said, so exasperated she didn't realize she was yelling. "It only takes a minute and they may have seen an unusual person in the area or noticed a car that didn't belong as they were arriving or leaving."

Belmont blew out an irritated breath. "Fine. I'll go talk to the damned neighbors, but it will be a waste of time."

He started stomping toward the door and then paused and turned back to return and slap a key into her hand. "That Babcock fellow left a message saying the Latimers were returning today. Give them the house key. And lock up as you leave," he snapped, and then whirled away and strode out of the house. The other officer paused long enough to give them an apologetic look, but then hurried after him.

"What an irritating, bloated, self-important twit," Sam growled as the door closed behind the departing men.

"I'd have to agree with that assessment," Mortimer said lightly, and Sam glanced at him, surprised to see he was smiling.

"How can you be so amused?" she asked with amazement. "That man makes me furious."

"I know, and you're scary in a kind of adorable way when your dander's up," he explained, moving closer. "I've never seen a man pale like he did when you started bellowing."

"I didn't bellow," Sam denied as his hands slipped around her waist, and then frowned. "Did I?"

Mortimer nodded, a smile still tugging at his mouth. "But he deserved it. He is an irritating, bloated, self-important twit."

Sam let her breath out on a small laugh as he bent to nuzzle her ear, but her gaze was on the door and her mind on the self-important twit and his complete uselessness so far.

"Sam," Mortimer murmured by her ear.

"Hmm?" she asked, clasping her hands absently around his waist.

He lifted his head and brushed his mouth across hers, then caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it gently before releasing it to lean back and point out, "We're inside."

Sam shifted her gaze and attention back to him, her eyes widening as he began to tug her T-shirt out of her shorts.

"Oh," she breathed as his hands slid up her stomach, but then giving herself a mental shake, said, "No. We shouldn't. Not here."

"Yes we should," he breathed, catching her by the waist and turning to set her on the counter. "There are no leeches, no bears, and no Mother Nature to interrupt us here."

Mortimer pushed her T-shirt up farther, baring her breasts, and then leaned forward to lick his way from the middle of her stomach to one nipple, which he immediately drew into his mouth.

"We really shouldn't here," Sam moaned, her fingers curling into the hair at the back of his head and tugging him closer. "The Latimers are returning today."

"'Later today," he breathed against her flesh as his fingers worked at the waist of her shorts, undoing buttons and zipper. "Hours from now. Plenty of time."

"What if Belmont returns?" she asked on a groan as he nipped at her nipple and his hand found its way inside her shorts.

"I'll kill him," Mortimer said, surprising a laugh from Sam.

Apparently her comment made him reconsider, though, because while he claimed her mouth with his, Mortimer also lifted her off the counter and carried her into the kitchen.

"Now we're safe from discovery," he whispered as he lowered them both to the floor.

Sam knew they weren't really safe, but it was good enough. She began to kiss him back as his body came down on hers.

The moment Sam started participating, Mortimer apparently realized he'd won the argument and stepped up the game. Within moments her T-shirt and his were pillowing the back of her head, and while they were both still dressed from the waist down, Mortimer was cradled between her thighs, grinding himself against her as his mouth explored hers and his hands traveled what he'd revealed of her body.

Sam had never made love on a kitchen floor before, and quickly realized that wasn't a bad thing. The ceramic tile was cold beneath her naked back and hard against her shoulder blades. When Mortimer began to push at her shorts, trying to remove them, and she got her first taste of the cold on the top of her behind, she decided she didn't want to be on the bottom and that she'd been passive with him long enough.

Catching him by surprise, Sam shifted her leg, knocking his out from under him, and pushed at his chest at the same time, so that he rolled off and onto his back with a soft "oomph" of surprise. She immediately rolled on top of him, smiling at his startled expression at the change in position.

"Got ya," she whispered, and then bent to kiss him before straightening to reach for the button of his jeans. Her hand froze, however, and she sat up when she heard the front door of the house open and slam shut.

She raised herself slightly to peer into the living area, a gasp slipping from her lips as she spotted the woman entering from the foyer.

"Cathy!"

Mortimer blinked his eyes open as that name burst from Sam's lips with a horror usually reserved only for the sudden appearance of monsters in movies. Then she suddenly dropped back down and began to scrabble around to reach her T-shirt. An "oomph" of shock slid from his lips as her knee came down on his groin.

"Sorry," Sam hissed, but wasn't even looking his way. Her head was buried in the shirt she was desperately yanking over her head.

"Hello? Is someone here?"

Mortimer cursed and quickly redid the button Sam had undone on his jeans. By the time he was done, Sam had her T-shirt in place and her shorts done up and was wildly trying to finger-brush her hair into order as she bounced to her feet.

"Cathy! Hi!"

The smile she offered looked pretty panicked and plastic to him, but Mortimer didn't hear any suspicion or concern in the other woman's voice as she said, "You look familiar. Who are you? One of Daddy's lackeys?"

"I work for your father's lawyer, Clarence Babcock."

Sam said a bit stiffly. "We've met a time or two when you accompanied your parents to the office."

The supposedly missing girl must have been moving nearer. At least her voice sounded nearer, Mortimer thought as he snatched up his T-shirt and began to pull it on. Aside from that, Sam was scooting around the counter in what looked to him like a defensive maneuver to keep her from coming back there and spotting him.

"I was sent here because you were missing." Mortimer heard Sam say as she moved out of sight. "Your parents have been worried sick; they're flying back from Europe as we speak."

Grimacing, he finished pulling his shirt into place, tucked it awkwardly into his jeans, ran his hands through his hair, and then shifted to his knees to peer cautiously over the counter.

"Oh, it's just like them to panic," Cathy Latimer said with exasperation, waving the matter away with one uncaring hand as she flounced onto the couch. Mortimer couldn't help but notice that she was a buxom blond and looked rather like the human embodiment of his Jessica Rabbit... er... his long-imagined life mate, he corrected himself at once.

"It wasn't just your parents," Sam assured her. "Mr. Babcock's been worried too, and the police put out a missing person's alert."

"Well, they shouldn't have. I was just at a friend's," the girl said petulantly, sounding more annoyed at the fuss than upset or embarrassed that she'd caused it.

Sam obviously wasn't impressed. Mouth tightening, she said grimly, "Because the door was left open. Not just unlocked, but open. The radio was playing, there was an untouched sandwich and drink on the counter, and your purse, car, and keys were still here... It looked like foul play."

"Oh." Cathy snorted at the idea. "So I forgot to lock the door."

Mortimer saw Sam close her eyes briefly and just knew she was having to rein in her temper. She was reasonably good at it; her voice sounded almost calm as she asked, "What happened?"

"I was about to have a sandwich when Mattie next door called and said her cousins were up from the States. They're twins, and gorgeous," she explained, and then shrugged. "So I rushed out, jumped on the Sea-Doo, and headed right over. I guess I forgot to lock the door."

Mortimer nodded to himself. He'd wondered why there were only three when there had been four spots in the boathouse for the vehicles.

"I see," Sam said stiffly. "How long ago was this?"

"Umm, three days ago, I think. Maybe four," Cathy shrugged indifferently and gave a pleased little sigh. "Those two really know how to party, which is what we've been doing the last few days. Then that asshole Belmont showed up to spoil the fun. He went on and on about the trouble I'd caused until Mattie's dad said maybe I'd better come home and let everyone know I'm all right. Idiot," she added bitterly, and then glanced hopefully at Sam. "Are you everyone? The plebe Uncle Clarence sent up here to cause all this fuss? If so, I can go back now and tell Mattie's dad I did as he asked, can't I?"

Mortimer's gaze switched to Sam. She wasn't at all impressed with being called a plebe, or with Ms. Rabbit herself, for that matter. Mortimer wasn't that impressed either, but it looked to him like Sam was about to blast the girl and give her a good dressing-down she wouldn't soon forget. Unfortunately, satisfying as that would be, it might put her job in jeopardy.

Mortimer couldn't control Sam, and he couldn't think of a thing to make Cathy Latimer say or do that might prevent the rage about to spew forth from Sam, so he did the only thing he could think of. He got to his feet and walked calmly around the counter and into view, distracting both women.

Sam's reaction was to hesitate and bite her lip, which relieved him. Cathy's reaction was a sudden widening of the eyes and a brief parting of the lips before she stood and sashayed toward him, drawling, "Hello gorgeous."

She even had the Jessica Rabbit sashay, Mortimer thought with amazement as he watched her hips roll with each step. And the "Hello gorgeous" line was even something Ms. Rabbit might say. Oddly enough, however, while her stacked figure, rolling walk, and the way she was eating him alive with her eyes as she approached all could have been plucked out of one of his fantasies of his life mate... in reality, it left him cold. He actually felt his erection shrivel inside his jeans. Mortimer preferred his Olive Oyl.

Not that Sam was an Olive Oyl, he thought quickly. She was beautiful and intelligent and had lovely eyes, and really, he was sure she'd be much more graceful when he turned her. Her stubborn ear infection would be a thing of the past then.

Realizing what he was thinking, Mortimer glanced to Sam and found himself smiling. He had decided-despite her clumsiness, the leeches, and the bear-he did want her for his life mate. He couldn't think of a finer woman to have at his side.

A finger running suggestively down his chest drew his attention back to Cathy-Jessica-Rabbit-Latimer. Mortimer caught that hand in a hard grip just as it crested over the button of his jeans. "No thank you, honey. I like my women all grown-up."

An ugly scowl immediately replaced the seductive look of a moment ago. Cathy Latimer wasn't used to rejection. With a figure and moves like hers, Mortimer wasn't surprised. Few would refuse what she offered so freely, and no doubt frequently. But while another man might have taken her up on the offer, Mortimer was sure that man would have then tossed her aside like a used tissue when he was done. At least he would if he thought like Mortimer. In his opinion, there was little value in something everyone could-and probably had-had.

Moving around the girl, he caught Sam's arm and ushered her toward the door, saying over his shoulder, "You should probably call your parents and let them know you're alive and just selfish, thoughtless, and uncaring. Despite your not deserving it, they appear to love you."

Ignoring her outraged gasp, Mortimer pulled the door of the house closed behind them and then hustled Sam along the path to the cottage. She was stiff in her movements and oddly silent as they walked, but he didn't try to make her talk. She was still struggling with her anger and a strange jumble of other emotions if he was to judge from the expressions flitting across her face. Amusement, resentment, bitterness, and determination were just a few of the emotions that flashed by.

Once at the cottage, they packed up their things in silence, locked the cottage, and then carried their stuff to the car. The moment everything was stowed away, Sam paused and peered at the keys in her hand.

Mortimer plucked them from her fingers and strode quickly back to the house.

"Uncle Clarence! Finally! I've been trying to reach you forever!" he heard Cathy shriek as he entered. He quickly moved into the living room to see that she was on the phone. Mortimer immediately slipped into her thoughts and read the venom there. She had no idea who he was and couldn't get him in trouble, but she did know he was somehow connected to Sam, and therefore intended on getting back at him for his rejection by trashing Sam to her "Uncle Clarence" and insisting he fire her. Cathy-Jessica-Rabbit-Latimer was about as ugly inside as she was lovely on the outside.

Mortimer quickly did a little rearranging of her memories and threw in some remorse and then slipped out of her thoughts. He then waited long enough to be sure his work had taken before setting her keys on the table by the door and slipping back outside.

"What happened?" Sam asked worriedly as he rejoined her by the SUV.

"Nothing," he said easily. "She was talking to your boss, so I just set the keys on the table and came back."

"There goes my career," Sam muttered, climbing into the passenger seat of the SUV.

Mortimer pushed her door closed for her and hurried around to the driver's side. He started the engine as he said, "I'm sure your career is fine. She wasn't saying anything nasty about you from what I heard."

"You were in there awhile," she commented.

Mortimer peered at her sharply, but she was looking away out the side window; he couldn't see her expression. He thought he'd heard something like jealousy in her voice when she'd spoken, though. He must have imagined it. Surely Sam was too smart to be jealous?

"I waited a minute to give her back her keys, but she sounded like she was going to take a while, so I just set them on the table," he said, steering the SUV up the drive.

"Hmm." Sam continued to look out the window and then suddenly commented, "She's a pretty girl, isn't she?"

Mortimer swiveled his head sharply and nearly sent the SUV into the trees on the side of the lane before he turned his attention back to the road and straightened the wheel. She was jealous, he realized. Sam didn't have a clue how special she was if she was jealous of that little bit of fluff.

Spotting a patch of treeless grass just ahead, Mortimer steered the car off the road.

"What are you doing?" she asked with surprise as he shifted into park.

Mortimer's response was to swivel in his seat, lean across the gearshift, and kiss her. He kissed her until she responded and then continued to kiss her, this time keeping his hands to himself. When he'd kissed her so thoroughly he thought he could make a mold of her teeth from memory, he finally broke the kiss.

They were both breathing heavily as he pulled back to peer at her. Staring Sam in the eyes, Mortimer then said, "She's stacked, she's pretty, and she's as loose as a goose and mean as a rattlesnake. I like my women lean, dark-haired, and... you." He let that sink in and then added, "And in case you didn't notice, when she touched me, I completely lost the erection that was still straining my pants from our kiss in the kitchen."

Sam stared at him wide-eyed for the longest time and then suddenly threw herself at him. Her mouth was on his, her hands on his shoulders, her chest pressed tight against him. Realizing that she had to be sitting on the gearshift, and that it must be uncomfortable, Mortimer promptly pulled her across it and arranged them both so that he was facing front and she straddled his lap in the driver's seat.

The honk of the horn was what told him her butt was pressed against it. Mortimer immediately grasped her hips and pulled her tight against him to bring an end to the strident sound. Finding he liked it, he pulled her tighter still as he kissed her back, letting his tongue slip out to wrestle with hers as he rubbed her against himself.

Mortimer had completely lost his mind, of course. Clearly, he hadn't yet learned his lesson about picking his spot or moment. It was bright daylight out and they were in an SUV on the side of the road. He'd obviously learned nothing from the leeches, the bear, and Cathy Latimer, he realized moments later when a knock on the window brought them both to a breathless halt and made them turn to peer out the window.

Sam's response when they saw Belmont leering at them was to roll off his lap and back into her seat with a moan of humiliation. Mortimer understood completely. Really, getting caught by Sergeant Belmont was the living end.

"I thought it was you two," the man said dryly as Mortimer hit the button to roll down the window. "This here's a public road, and up here we don't take kindly to public displays of affection." He sneered the word. "You two go find a room if you want to carry on like that."

Mortimer scowled at the man, knowing he was enjoying himself.

Belmont merely grinned at his silent fury and then said smugly, "I take it Cathy made it home all right? Seems she was just off visiting friends like I thought and all this fuss was for nothing."

Mortimer was winding up to take control of the man's mind and make him piss himself or something else equally humiliating when Sam said sweetly, "Yes. Isn't it good that you listened to me and did your job and went to talk to the neighbors so we could find that out? Such a shame you didn't think to do it earlier on your own as one would expect so that all this needless worry could have been avoided."

A small smile of admiration curved Mortimer's lips.

Belmont was less appreciative. Flushing furiously, he straightened away from the vehicle and snapped, "Get out of here before I fine you both for indecent exposure."

"Nothing was exposed, Officer. We were just kissing," Sam said in hard tones. "And while that's illegal in Malaysia, it isn't in Canada. I learned that in law school."

Belmont started back to his waiting patrol car, snarling, "Just get on out of here."

Sam released a little puff of air and glared after the man until Mortimer reached out and took her hand. When she turned a startled glance his way, he smiled. "This round goes to Ms. Willan."

She smiled faintly at his teasing and then shook her head. "I think the universe is trying to tell us something. We just aren't meant to-"

Mortimer silenced her by quickly placing a finger over her lips. "That's speculation, Ms. Willan. We only deal with the facts here."

"Oh?" she asked wryly. "And what are the facts telling you?"

"The facts are that we were put into cottages next door to each other. So maybe that's where we're supposed to be together." He smiled gently and suggested, "Let's get back home. Hmm?"

"Home," Sam said as he shifted into drive and steered the SUV back onto the road. "Our cottage is like a second home to me, but Decker's cottage isn't your home."

"It's more a home to me than any of the hotels I usually stay in," he said dryly.

Sam was silent as she digested that and then said, "I suppose you spend a lot of time on the road with the band."

Mortimer frowned, not comfortable with lying, but unable to tell the truth. Instead he said carefully, "I spend a lot of time on the road."

"I'll bet you have a lot of groupies."

Mortimer glanced at her sharply, but she didn't look angry or jealous, just curious. Clearing his throat, he said, "I wouldn't bother with groupies. In fact, I haven't been with a woman in a long time."

"Really?" She didn't hide her surprise.

"Really," he assured her.

"I'd think groupies were part of the attraction of being in a band for a guy."

"I'm not your average guy," he said dryly.

"I'm beginning to see that," Sam admitted.

Mortimer smiled and reached for her hand. It felt right in his. Like that was where it belonged. It just reaffirmed what he'd already decided. It seemed whoever made it so immortals couldn't read certain people didn't make mistakes when they assigned life mates after all. They'd picked the perfect woman for him.

Now he just had to convince her of that.