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  He held his hand out in front of her. “Good night,” he said.

  Without thinking, Chloe took his hand and let him pull her up to face him. Dusk had settled over the old dilapidated buildings and his angular face was in shadows. The only sound was the hiss of the last of the dry birch wood. His eyes were dangerous pools of darkness—the kind a woman could drown in and never be heard from again. An owl hooted in the distance and she gave an involuntary shiver.

  “Are there many...uh, animals around here?” she asked.

  “Not many,” he said. “Just a few bobcats, mountain lions, coyotes....” He braced his hands under her elbows. “You're not afraid, are you?”

  “Of course not. I just wondered...what to expect.” Her voice shook just slightly as his hands moved up her arms to cup her shoulders, sending tremors up and down her spine.

  “Expect the unexpected,” he warned. Then he leaned forward and took her mouth with the fierceness of the wild animals she feared. Wood smoke and the heady masculine scent of Zeb Bowie swirled around her. She could have pushed him away. She could have turned and run. Instead, she grabbed a fistful of his cotton shirt and held on for dear life.

  He parted her lips with his tongue and she let him in. Met him half way in a duel no one could win— or lose. She wasn't thinking. She was sinking into a whirlpool of passion. For the first time in months, she let all rational thought go—and good riddance.

  For the first time in months, years, she felt the heat of passion surging through her veins. The pounding of her heart matched his. He made her feel sexy, desirable, lightheaded, lighthearted—and scared. Scared to death of making another disastrous mistake.

  She pulled back, breathing hard and pressed her hand against his chest to steady herself. Then she jerked her hand away as if she'd been burned. What was wrong with her, letting some stranger trip all the emotional switches she'd carefully turned off? Hadn't she learned anything in this horrible past year?

  “What was that?” she demanded, pressing her palms together. “Another example of Western hospitality?”

  His teeth flashed white like a wolf’s in the semi-darkness. He was laughing at her. Thinking she was a greenhorn who'd fall for the first real honest-to-God cowboy who happened along. He didn't know she would never fall for anyone again. Never be taken for a ride again. And never be used.

  For a long moment he held her mesmerized with the strength of his gaze. Then he grabbed a bucket, poured water on the fire and fastened his knife to his belt. “You'll be all right?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said. She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming, Help. Don't leave. I'm scared of the dark, the wild animals and being alone.

  “Got your sleeping bag, gas lantern, food in that suitcase of yours?”

  Yeah, and a laptop computer and a portable TV. She wrapped her arms across her waist as if to ward off the dangers of the night. “Don't worry about me,” she said, certain he was the type who only worried about himself. “I'll be fine.”

  “Good enough,” he said, clamping his wide-brimmed hat on his head. “See ya.”

  She watched him amble off through the trees, whistling to himself as if he didn't have a care in the world. He didn't know or really care that she had none of the things he'd mentioned. Except food. She had packets of freeze-dried food, but she'd thought... she'd expected...

  She had not expected a naked cowboy with shoulders from here to there. She had not expected him to feed her or give her a kiss that left her shaken and throbbing with unfulfilled desire.

  She staggered back to the bathhouse on rubbery legs, opened her suitcase by the light of a tiny flashlight she carried in her purse, and dragged out a sweater and jeans. She layered them over her shorts and shirt, then considered her options. Every bone ached, every muscle screamed out for a soft bed. But there was no soft bed. There was only a hard bathtub.

  After draining and drying the tub, Chloe padded the tub with more clothes from her suitcase, then took a deep breath and climbed in it for the second time that day. With her head resting against the cold, hard porcelain, she stared up at the star-studded sky through the gaps in the roof.

  If she could get some sleep then tomorrow she would be prepared for Zebulon Bowie. She would not let him interrupt her, destroy her equilibrium, or make her feel inadequate. Or kiss her. She sat up straight in her makeshift bed and stared into the darkness. What if she was prepared, but he didn't show up? What if she never saw him again? For some reason the thought scared her more than the coyotes and mountain lions put together.

  Chapter Two

  The telephone rang at seven the next morning, jarring Zeb out of a dream. A dream in which he and the beautiful hot-springs heiress threw their clothes to the four winds and raced each other to the bathhouse to make passionate love in the hot tub. But when the phone rang, Zeb realized it was just a dream. He groaned into his pillow and cursed the person on the other end of the line.

  His whole body went rigid at the memory of Chloe's luscious body floating naked in the tub. That was not a dream. It was real. She was real—maddeningly real. He reached for the phone.

  “I found one,” his brother said.

  “'Bout time. You've been on the road long enough. What's he like?”

  “Short neck, broad-chested roan. Eager grazer.”

  Zeb tossed the blanket off the bed and sat up straight. “What about breeding?”

  “Raring to go, they say.”

  “How much?”

  “Negotiable.”

  “Then negotiate,” Zeb ordered.

  “I thought we didn't have any money.”

  “We'll get it.”

  “Any word from the woman?” his brother asked.

  “As a matter of fact,” Zeb ran one hand through his hair until it stood straight up “she stumbled on to the property yesterday in her high-heeled suede boots, silk shirt and a camera around her neck.”

  “What'd she say?” Sam asked.

  “She ordered me out of her bathtub.”

  “Not an auspicious beginning,” his brother noted. “Did she agree to sell?”

  “Not yet But after a night on the ground without a sleeping bag I reckon she'll be ready to sign over the deed today.”

  “You let her sleep on the ground?” Sam asked.

  A twinge of conscience hit Zeb between the ribs. Was he going to let his little brother lecture him on how to treat a woman?

  “What was I supposed to do, invite her to use the spare room? Give her Granny's nightgown and kiss her good-night? You want a stranger to make money off Horatio's property instead of us?” he demanded.

  “Hell, no. You think I like worrying about foreclosure? But...”

  “But nothing. We've got to convince her to sell. Now. Today. Before she finds out.”

  “Okay, okay. What's she look like?”

  “I didn't notice,” he lied. Didn't notice her eyes were like brown velvet, her hair a ribbon of shiny copper. “All I know is that she looks like she doesn't belong here. Like a hothouse flower in an onion patch. Anyway I'm heading down there right now to make her an offer. After she's seen the place in broad daylight the answer has gotta be yes.”

  “While she's sore and aching from a night on the ground. Good plan.”

  “I thought so.”

  “On the other hand, is it fair to take advantage of her like that?” his brother asked.

  “Is it fair that our herd got hit with the anthrax epidemic and we lost our prize bull? Is it fair that the price of hay went up and the price of cattle went down? Life's not fair, Sam.”

  “I know that. You know that. But does she know that? What if she quit her job to come out here? What if she has cash-flow problems as big as ours?”

  “Nobody's got problems like ours. Anyway, I'm offering her a decent price for the property. She goes home with money in her pocket, and you and I make a bundle on the resale. We buy that bull and we're back in business.”

  “I've been thinking about the woman.
”

  “You've been thinking about her? Don't. Think about cattle. That's what I do.”

  Except in the early hours of morning. Then the face that invaded his dreams was not that of a fifteen-hundred-pound bovine. It was her face.

  “Ask her what she does. Make sure she didn't quit her job to come out here. Otherwise...”

  “Otherwise what, you won't go along with it?”

  Zeb asked incredulously. Was this the same guy who ruthlessly cleaned out his friends at poker on Friday nights and never felt a pang of remorse?

  “I couldn't, and neither could you, tough guy.”

  “All right, if it'll make you feel better. But I know she's got a job.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don't know what it is,” he said, exasperated. “Maybe she's a lawyer or maybe she's a waitress in a topless bar.” He didn't mean to raise his voice, but the sun was rising from behind the purple mountains and valuable time was passing.

  “Now we're getting someplace,” his brother said. “What makes you think she's a topless waitress?”

  “I don't,” Zeb said. “It's just an idea.” But the image of Chloe topless in a tight little miniskirt, with her beautiful breasts bared, sent a shaft of desire rocketing straight to his groin. Now, at seven-twenty in the morning, for God's sake. “I don't know why we're discussing this. We have a plan.”

  “That was when she was just a name on a piece of paper. I didn't know she was gonna come out here. Now she's a real woman with hopes and dreams.”

  “You're getting carried away. I asked her what she was going to do with the property and she said she didn't know. Does that sound like a woman with hopes and dreams? This is not some helpless field mouse like the ones you used to rescue from the claws of the cat. This is a grown-up woman who's come out here on a whim. Who didn't realize hot-springs resorts went out in the twenties and aren't going to come back.”

  “Just find out if she's okay with this. If she's got a life.”

  “And a job. Yeah, I know. But I can't find out anything if I don't get down there.”

  “So get. We on for Friday?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “I'll be there at six. If my car doesn't break down. It's giving me trouble. Next time I go on the road—”

  “You'll have a new car. We'll be in fat city.”

  Zeb hung up, yanked his jeans on and hoped his brother wouldn't be back in time to catch a glimpse of the city woman. It was just possible she'd appeal to his soft heart and he'd blurt out the truth about the property. Zeb put his checkbook in his pocket and rode his horse down the hill to Paradise Hot Springs.

  She was trying to get a fire going. He'd give her points for that. She was bent over a pile of smoldering twigs and all he could see was her firm, round bottom, wrapped in snug blue jeans like a second skin. The throbbing in his groin started again. He cleared his throat.

  “Good morning.”

  Startled, she jumped, turned and faced him. Her face was smudged with smoke, her hair was a tangle of curls. There were circles under her eyes. An unwanted pang of sympathy struck him between the shoulder blades.

  “Sleep well?” he asked, stiffening his resolve.

  “Just fine. I was going to make breakfast”

  “What are you having?” he asked.

  She watched as the fire flickered and went out Her shoulders slumped. “A power bar,” she said without moving.

  “Sounds good.”

  She reached into her pocket and broke the bar in half. “Here,” she said holding out her hand. “I owe you.”

  “Thanks.” He took the square of oats and nuts, crammed it in his mouth and chewed. Did she have to look so pathetic this morning, just when he was ready to con her out of her inheritance? Did she have to share her meager breakfast with him and make him feel like a bastard? He hardened his heart and slapped his hands together.

  “Now that we've got breakfast out of the way, feel like talking?”

  “I was going to walk around.” Gingerly, carefully, Chloe stretched, then winced as the pain traveled down her spine and lodged in her hip. She was glad he didn't ask where she'd slept. She wanted this rough, tough cowboy to think she'd slept out under the trees on the hard ground. Though how anything could be harder than a porcelain bathtub, she didn't know.

  “I'll come with you,” he said. “We can walk and talk.”

  She slanted a look in his direction. What was he doing here, the all-American cowboy in his chambray shirt and low-slung jeans? So damnably comfortable and at ease, as if he belonged here and she didn't. Oozing with vitality and sexy good looks that ought to be outlawed this early in the morning. A decent night's sleep hadn't hurt him one bit. Just rumpled his hair.

  She shivered in the early-morning air. Longing for a cup of good, hot coffee, a jolt of caffeine to get her through the morning, she was almost desperate enough. She took a deep breath and swallowed her pride.

  “I don't suppose you have any of that coffee left,” she said.

  “My coffee?” he inquired with an amused glint in his eye. “Nope. Sorry. But I can offer you a guided tour of the property.”

  “Don't you have things to do?” she asked. “I thought ranchers were always out branding cattle or, or...”

  “Wrestling steers? I did all that yesterday. So today I'm free to show you around. Have you seen the inside of the cabins?”

  “No, but you said they'd been stripped. I'd rather see the nice parts.”

  She wanted to see something that would encourage her, something to give her hope that her plans were possible.

  “Sweetheart, these are the nice parts.”

  She swept her gaze over the rusty, drained pool, the peeling paint on the cabins and the bathhouse leaning at a rakish angle on its foundations and she felt like crying. Then she thought of her great-grandfather, pioneering out here in the wilderness, building this place from scratch.

  “There are supposed to be forty acres. I want to see the other thirty-nine,” she said firmly.

  “All forty acres? Whatever you say. We'll take my horse, Jenny.”

  His horse whinnied loudly and pawed the ground as if she'd understood. A cold shiver of fear crept up Chloe's spine. The horse looked enormous, with hooves that could crush a rider should she fall or be thrown off.

  “I don't ride,” she said.

  “Don't ride,” he repeated, dumbfounded. “Where did you say you were from?”

  “San Francisco.”

  “They don't have horses there?”

  “Sure, in Golden Gate Park. You can rent a horse for an hour. It's expensive.”

  “Here we own them. Here you can't get around without riding. I ride, you don't. So why don't you sell the place to me?”

  Chloe put her hands on her hips and surveyed him through narrowed eyes. “Why do you want it so badly? Is there gold buried under the ground? Valuable Indian relics? What?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of. But come and see for yourself. Don't worry, I'll hold on to you.”

  He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the wild, fire-breathing animal he called Jenny. She stumbled and her breath came in short gasps as she stared up at the beast.

  “You're not afraid, are you?” he asked, still holding her hand. “Men have been riding horses for five thousand years. Women, too. Joan of Arc rode a horse.”

  “Good for her,” she said biting her lip. “It's those teeth,” she muttered, hardly aware she was digging her nails into his hand

  “Jenny's not going to eat you. No offense, but she'd rather have a bucket of hay or oats.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. He was laughing at her fears.

  She was just going to ask why they needed those huge powerful teeth if all they ate was hay when Zeb abruptly lifted Chloe by the elbows and turned her toward the horse.

  “Left foot through the stirrup,” he ordered. “Now swing into the saddle.” With one large hand molded to her bottom, he shoved her up and placed her left foot into the stir
rup. As she swung her right leg over the horse, she hit its side with her knee. Jenny shook her head and reared up on her hind legs.

  Panicked, Chloe fell back against Zeb and knocked him backwards. They staggered across the dirt together until he dug his heels in and wrapped his arms around her so tightly she couldn't move. The seductive scent of her hair and her skin filled his senses. With her back wedged against his chest, his arms under her breasts, she fit perfectly, as if she belonged there. But she didn't. She belonged in San Francisco.

  “I can't do it” she said, panting loudly, rubbing damp palms against the sides of her blue jeans.

  “Yes, you can,” Zeb insisted through clenched teeth. “If you don't get on the horse, then you won't see the rest of the property. And if you don't see it you'll think I'm trying to hide something from you.”

  Quickly, so she wouldn't have another chance to protest he unwrapped his arms and pushed her back toward the horse.

  “Okay, old girl, calm down,” he said. “There's nothing to be afraid of. I got somebody I want you to meet. Reminds me of you. High spirits, long legs, big feet and well-bred.”

  “Are you talking to me or your horse?” Chloe demanded, twisting her head in Zeb's direction.

  “Her,” he answered tightening his grip on her shoulders. “This time give her a minute to get used to you. Let her sniff you. She's easily frightened of strange objects.”