“I’m thirty-four. Nine years older than you.”

“I don’t believe it. You’re nearly as old as the Bomber.”

“ ’Fraid so.”

“I don’t care.” His lips tightened into a stubborn line. “The Bomber might care about all that age stuff, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. The only thing is…” He looked vaguely chagrined. “As much as I hate the Bomber’s guts, I’ve sort of made it a policy not to screw around with married women.”

“Good for you.”

“You like that?”

“It speaks well of you.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” He looked pleased and reached across the table and took her hand. “Promise me something, Jane. If you and the Bomber split, promise that you’ll give me a call.”

“Oh, Kevin, I really don’t think—”

“Well, now, isn’t this cozy.”

A deep, belligerent voice cut her off, and her head snapped up in time to watch Calvin James Bonner charging toward them looking like a blast furnace about to erupt. She half expected to see ribbons of smoke sliding from his nostrils, and she tried to pull her hand away from Kevin’s grasp, but, naturally, he held her fast. She should have known he wouldn’t miss such a golden opportunity to aggravate her husband.

“Hey, there, old man. Me and the missus was just havin’ ourselves a little chat. Pull up a chair and join us.”

Cal ignored him and gave Jane a visual blast with enough power to explode a mushroom cloud over the western half of North Carolina. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not quite finished with my lunch.” She gestured toward her half-eaten salad.

“Oh, you’re finished, all right.” He snatched the salad out from under her and dumped what was left of it on Kevin’s plate.

Her eyes widened. Was she wrong, or could she possibly be witnessing a major jealousy tantrum? Her spirits rose several more notches even as she tried to figure out how she wanted to handle this. Should she make a scene in public or in private?

Kevin took the decision out of her control by springing to his feet. “You son of a bitch!”

A fist flew, and the next thing she knew, Kevin was lying on the floor. With a hiss of alarm, she jumped up and rushed to him. “Kevin, are you all right?” She glared up at her husband. “You cretin!”

“He’s a pansy. I barely touched him.”

Kevin spouted a mouth-soaper of an obscenity, and as he scrambled to his feet, she reminded herself that she was dealing with two overgrown male children, both of whom were hot-tempered and intensely physical. “Stop it right now!” she exclaimed as she rose. “This isn’t going any farther.”

“You want to settle it outside?” Cal sneered at Kevin.

“No! I’m gonna kick your ass right here.”

Kevin shoved Cal in the chest. Cal stumbled backward, but didn’t fall.

Jane’s hands flew to her cheeks. They were starting a barroom brawl, and unless she was mistaken, one of the things they were fighting over was her! She pushed the enticing thought away by reminding herself that she abhorred violence, and she had to put a stop to it.

“There will be no ass kicking!” She used her sternest voice, the one that she occasionally employed with rowdy third-grade boys. But these boys paid no attention. Instead, Cal threw Kevin into a barstool, then Kevin dragged Cal against the wall. A framed Sports Illustrated cover showing her husband taking off his helmet came crashing down.

Jane knew she couldn’t overpower them physically, so she tried another tactic. Reaching behind the bar, she snatched up one of the dispenser hoses, aimed it at the two brawlers, and pushed the trigger. It was either water or club soda, she couldn’t tell which, but it lost too much of its power by the time it reached them to have any effect.

She spun toward the onlookers, who’d gotten up from their chairs to watch, and implored several of the men. “Do something, will you? Stop them!”

They ignored her.

For a moment she considered letting them beat each other’s brains out, but they were too strong, and she didn’t have the stomach for it. She swept up a full beer pitcher from the top of the bar, rushed over, and flung it at them.

They gasped, sputtered, and went right back to pulverizing each other as if nothing had happened. It was an unpleasant reminder of exactly how tough they were.