Chapter 1

Jack Travers had never had trouble finding a woman.

The forty year-old historical romance novelist's rugged handsome features, complete with steel-gray eyes and a just-had-a-romp-in-the-bed look to his ebony curls, had many women willing to keep him company and to provide him with needed personal entertainment. He had taken some of the ladies up on their offers, and, thus, had been seen about town with some of the finest belles Alabama had to offer. Jack's trouble with women was that he had not found one who did not want to provide him with a herd of children.

Now, Jack liked children -- in fact, he volunteered at the library three times a week for story time. He also visited the children's hospital once a week, dressed up as a clown. Jack just did not want to be responsible for them twenty-four hours a day. He made this decision after spending a summer baby-sitting. He had had various children to care for and as time went by, he found himself shuddering at the thoughts of having any of his own -- ever.

Given the fact that he had been only sixteen, he gave himself a few years to think over things, and at the age of twenty-five knew that he was not going to change his mind. He loved his nieces and nephews and loved his volunteer work with kids, but that was enough to fill any needs he had concerning nurturing and raising a family. Thus, his gift to himself that year at Christmas was a vasectomy.

He still used protection -- there were after all diseases that he did not want to pick up -- but when he had chosen to go bare, there had been no chance of his getting his companion pregnant. This came in handy when three women, with whom he had relations, claimed to be having his baby. Oh, they had been pregnant, all right, but not with his sperm.

Zelda, with whom he had parted ways six months before, thought she would change him; and a few months into the relationship brought up the topic of adoption. She persisted with the idea for three weeks; the third week, he told her that he thought it best she find someone who could meet her needs.

He was pondering over his predicament the morning he entered the library to do some research for his latest effort, Tryst in Twilight, and almost didn't notice her. He was used to greeting one of two librarians who worked during the week; and was half-way to the computerized card catalogue, when he realized that the resonant alto had not belonged to someone he knew.

Not wanting to be obvious, he continued to his destination and got his information. Then, as he made his way to the shelves, he looked toward the desk. She was wearing a silky black blouse, which went great with her beige complexion. Her auburn curls were resting on her shoulders; a light row of bangs fell across her forehead. Her eyes were chocolate brown. He couldn't tell how tall she was, not that it really mattered. By his standards, she was beautiful and he was interested in getting to know her.