Whether she heard the twig snap first and then awaken or vice versa she never knew, but there she was, eyes round with surprise and confronted by a stranger. Her first instinct was to get to her feet, which he helped her to do. Automatically Audley accepted his proffered hand and then her adrenalin pumped for the third, or was it the fourth, time in less than 24 hours. She shuddered and pulled away, wanting to seek the security of the Maxum. Then she remembered the flat tire.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she nearly screamed.

The stranger asked: "Are you afraid?"

She was terrified. "No!" She turned and sped toward the car.

0802-LZ watched the lithe young woman scramble across the underbrush, admiring her agile long legs. He had not intended to frighten her.

At the Maxum Audley stopped short. Where had he come from? "Damn!" she said again, half in panic and half in frustration. Who is he? What does he want? Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision. She reached inside the car and quickly retrieved her sunglasses. His body came into her peripheral vision, standing apart by a good thirty feet. Her legs buckled and she sat, trembling, fumbling to put on her shoes. A bitter taste arose in her mouth and she knew it was the taste of fear and she hated herself for it.

What did she have to be fear? Not dying, no, but of what? Her vulnerability! There wasn't another soul around for miles! Was it her imagination or was he as powerful as he seemed? Her hand, where he had touched her, still tingled. He could crush her, she knew, without effort. She had seen his face for an instant. What had she seen in it? Energy. Power. "What do you want?" she demanded.

The man maintained his distance and made a helpless gesture with his hands.

"Who are you?" she asked again, finding her footing.

"I won't hurt you. Please, don't be afraid," he said.

She refused to believe him. She didn't dare believe him. Not now, with a national emergency going on. Not out here in the wilderness miles from anyone. Yet, he had not assaulted her in her sleep. He had offered his hand and she had instinctively taken it. Besides, she liked the sound of his voice. It was resonant. Warm and capable. Capable of what? Rape? Robbery? Murder?

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He replied, "What are you doing here?" and his voice smiled.

Her fear was fast subsiding in the brilliant morning sun. She caught herself wishing that if he were going to rape or rob her, he would hurry up and get it over with. She looked around. The flat tire had to be repaired. She went to the trunk of the car and found it locked. The keys were still in the ignition where she left them.

Suddenly she knew she need not fear. He was not going to hurt her. So far, in fact, he had been nothing but helpful. Well, then, she resolved, if he is going to hang around, he can damned well be useful. "Hey!" she called out. "Come over here."

As he approached, she tried not to notice that his body looked as warm and capable as his voice sounded. Supple muscles rippled under his forest green jersey. His legs were long and lean and he moved with a good stride. To Audley, the stranger pulsated with virility. His hair was dark. Even with her eyes averted, she could see his skin was clear and ruddy, and he was big!

She clutched the key ring, feeling a familiar twinge between her legs as he approached then stood obediently near the open trunk into which she directed her vision as she felt him looking at her. His eyes burned her, moving slowly over her face and neck, down over the soft curves of her breasts. Like a laser beam, she could feel his visual sojourn over her hips, through her groin, down her legs and out through the bottom of her feet. She trembled.

"How can I help you?" His voice came to her as if through a channel, reaching directly into her, caressing her inner ear.

Not daring to look at him, hearing her own voice completely disassociated from her environs, she said, "I'll pay you to fix my flat tire."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he said softly, "but I have never fixed a flat tire. I don't know how."

It was too ludicrous. Her eyes darted to his face and she fell into his blue eyes. Blue! Incredibly blue, like the sky on a clear day. And bottomless.

"You're joking," she said, feeling giddy.

"No, I'm not. Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Fixed a flat tire."

"Oh. No. Of course. I mean," she stammered, "of course not. But I've watched. I know what to do. I'll instruct you."

"Good. I will need instruction."

Again, the voice crept into her head, settled and lingered there, diffusing her thoughts into fragments. She realized she had been staring.

Abruptly she directed her attention to the lug wrench, jack and spare tire and, with his assistance, gathered them all to the damaged tire. As she explained the function of each piece he watched and listened intently. His presence was so disconcerting. She foolishly tore a fingernail and, after a blaze of DamnDamnDamn, he proceeded to change the tire without her help.

Standing over him, watching his tawny fingers explore the tools and examine the faulty tire, Audley imagined those fingertips touching her nipples. She wanted him. She didn't know or care who he was, where he came from or where he was going, but she wished to God he would take her right there on the shoulder of the road, in the dirt, beside the lug wrench. But he worked in silence, concentrating on his project, seemingly having forgotten all about her. His indifference irritated her.

The sun was getting hot, she complained to herself, and still there were no other cars on the road. Was the power failure still on? Surely not. She looked at her watch. "Damn!" she said unwittingly. "My watch has stopped. Have you got the time?"

He looked up for a second and then returned immediately to the task at hand. "About 10:15."

"Say, that's pretty good. Where'd you learn that?"

He tightened the final bolt and replaced the hubcap. "I've had some training in Celestial Navigation." He wiped his hands on the cloth Audley handed him, careful not to make contact.

"What about you?" he asked. "What do you do?"

"I'm a reporter. At least I was a reporter. I'll probably get thrown off the press after this recent fiasco."

The stranger stood up, brushed the dust and dried grass from his fudge-colored trousers. "What fiasco is that?"

Closing the trunk, Audley caught herself wondering about the contents of those trousers and moved away abruptly. She might want him, but be damned if she would be brazen about it. She wasn't that liberated. "It's too much to go into," she said. "What do I owe you?"

He smiled. "What I could really use is a ride."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Sure," she answered at once, remembering her promise to Brad that she would not pick up any hitchhikers. Well, he wasn't hitchhiking. She was paying off a debt. "Where to?" She hoped he wanted to go a long way.

"Where are you going?"

Again, his simple question sparked off many possible answers. Where, indeed, was she going? She had the feeling that any answer would be acceptable to him. She smiled. "Far, far away. Come on. I'll give you a lift." She slid behind the wheel, ready to leave before he could change his mind.