Love Can Be Murder

program with anyone."
    "You of all people know I can keep a secret."
    Roxann glanced over, her stomach knotted. "Don't, Angora."
    For the split second, a spark of defiance shone in Angora's wide blue eyes, and Roxann had the horrible feeling that Angora would lash out at her parents and the world by divulging their secret. There was nothing more dangerous than a person who felt as if they had nothing left to lose. She swallowed.
    "Roxann, have you ever wanted to kill someone?"
    At the eerily serious note in her cousin's voice, warning bells chimed in her head. "Everyone has moments of extreme anger," she said carefully.
    "No," Angora said, her gaze locked on Roxann's, her pupils dilated. "I mean really kill someone." In her lap, her hands convulsed. "I think I could kill Trenton and not feel a bit guilty."
    A chill tickled the back of Roxann's neck as she recalled moments in college when she'd questioned Angora's stability. "Passion is a powerful emotion. Sometimes it can feel like hate instead of love."
    But Angora seemed to be somewhere else. "All I know is that I put my life on hold too many times because of promises men made to me." Her voice had taken on a bitter tone. "What makes the beasts think they can use a woman and then toss her aside when she becomes inconvenient?"
    Roxann used her most soothing tone. "You're hurting right now, but you'll feel better by the time we get to South Bend."
    Angora's eyes welled up, and her mouth tightened. "I swear on my crown, the next man who jerks me around is going to wish he hadn't."
    Her cousin wouldn't be the first repressed woman to snap and retaliate, ergo all those news interviews with wide-eyed neighbors in their robes saying, "She seemed like such a nice woman."
    Then as quickly as it came, the glimmer in her cousin's eyes vanished, replaced by a contrite expression. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up yesterday, Roxann. Or if you hadn't let me come with you on this trip. Seems like you're always saving me."
    Unexpectedly moved, Roxann couldn't respond.
    "I know, I know—it seems like I always need saving."
    "I didn't say that."
    "You were thinking it." Angora inhaled, then exhaled musically. "But that's okay, because from now on, I'm going to take charge of my life."
    Roxann bit her tongue—the only thing Angora had ever taken charge of was Visa, Mastercard, and American Express.
    Angora lifted her chin. "I don't need Trenton—I can get a man any time I want one."
    With her golden good looks, her cousin never had a problem attracting men, but inevitably, her insecurities manifested in some way to have them running in the opposite direction: too prim, too needy, too snobby, too virginal. "Getting" a man was not Angora's problem, nor any other woman's for that matter. Keeping him—now there was the rub.
    "In fact," Angora continued. "I can find someone better looking, someone who's great in bed."
    "And you would know?" Roxann asked gently.
    "Yes." Angora twirled her hair around her index finger—a dead giveaway that she was lying. Then she sighed. "No."
    "Don't sound so forlorn."
    "Roxann, how many thirty-two-year-old virgins do you know?"
    Roxann swerved, then corrected. "You're still a virgin?"
    "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."
    "No, no... I'm surprised, that's all, since you're so pretty and since you've been engaged."
    "And since I'm so old?"
    "We're the same age."
    "You didn't answer my question. How many thirty-two-year-old virgins do you know?"
    "Well...I don't have many close female friends, but I'm sure..." She trailed off helplessly. "Okay, I don't know any thirty-two-year-old virgins."
    She pulled a small pink packet from her purse. "A wedding-night gift from Mother—condoms."
    "Not ready to be a grandmother just yet, is she?"
    "No." She pulled one out and read the label. "These things are made of lambskin."
    "Sheep intestines."
    "Huh?"
    "They're made of sheep intestines. But 'lambskin' is more marketable."
    "Oh, that's gross."
    She shrugged. "They're the best, as far as sensation is concerned. My hat's off to Dee."
    "For knowing?"
    "For letting you know that she knows."
    "Ah. Well, the only thing that Mother harped on more than my laugh lines and my waistline is sex—she said she'd cut me out of her will if she found out I didn't wait until my wedding night." She stuffed the condom grab bag back into her purse.
    "How would she know?"
    "My gynecologist."
    "What?"
    "I've been going to the same gynecologist since I