“Are you in trouble with the law?” ABOUT THE AUTHOR Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN Heart of the West Copyright

“Are you in trouble with the law?”

“No,” Avery said. “What I am is broke. What I need is a job, and this one suits me fine.”

Logan finished his coffee. At one time, he’d been a good judge of character. Now he didn’t trust his own instincts. He didn’t think she’d lied, but there were secrets shifting around in those gray eyes, and her. expression was just too bland. But what did it matter? All he wanted was to be left alone. He had the feeling Avery Jensen was looking for the same.

“We’d best get some things straight,” he said. “Haven has its busybodies. They’re going to make a lot out of a beautiful, single woman living on a ranch with a widower.” He paused. “There are people in town who are going to talk about me. I don’t give a damn what they say, but you might.”

The corner of Avery’s mouth tipped slightly upward and she said, “I don’t put much stock in gossip. But just so I won’t be surprised or shocked—what am I likely to hear?”

“That I’m responsible for my wife’s and son’s deaths. And that I benefited by getting an ungodly amount of insurance money.” He shoved back his chair and stood. “They’re right on both counts.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evelyn A. Crowe worked for twelve years as a media director in an advertising company before turning her hand to writing in 1983. Her decision to change careers was certainly a stroke of good fortune for Harlequin readers. Evelyn’s bestselling books are favorites around the world.

Safe Haven
Evelyn A. Crowe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

THE TEXAS SPRING MORNING was pristine and breathtakingly beautiful, the air intoxicating with its scents of freshly mowed grass and newly tilled earth. Butterflies flitted over the fields. Rolling green hills were splashed with the jewel-like hues of wildflowers.

The setting was picture-perfect—except for the blacktop highway, an ugly tear in the landscape. It was also a dangerous stretch of highway, a deadly couple of miles that twisted and dipped and rose.

The purity of the morning and the cathedral silence was suddenly shattered by sounds of an ancient truck, which emitted a rooster tail of blue smoke as it rolled to a stop. The grinding of the brakes startled nearby birds from their perch in the trees.

A young woman, tall and shapely, climbed out of the passenger side of the truck. As she closed the door, a soft breeze teased her black hair around her face and made the hem of her dress flutter. She hoisted a suitcase from the bed of the truck and waved her thanks to the old man she’d hitched a ride from.

Avery Jensen watched the truck until it disappeared around a bend in the highway. She took a steadying breath to bolster her courage and turned to face the ornate wrought-iron sign arched high over the lane entrance. Her exhausting trip was almost at an end.

Despite her eagerness to finish it, she hesitated, knowing that when she walked under that arch she would truly be cut off from her world as she’d known it. She’d be a new person. If she could have given herself a whole new identity, Avery admitted, she would have. But that was illegal, and she couldn’t afford any run-ins with the law. She’d had enough of those.

Her life had been torn apart and turned inside out. She was scarred and bruised. She’d survived, but the price had been high. Once, not too long ago, she’d had it all. A beautiful home. Family and friends. She’d had a career, a position in society. She’d had power, money and the respect of her peers. She’d even had a fiancé. Now all she had was herself.

For the first time it hit her: she was free. She was safe. Avery laughed. She’d found a safe haven—Ha- ven, Texas, that is—and it beat the hell out of the home she’d had for the past eight months.

She picked up her suitcase. Everything she owned was in it, none of it old. There was nothing to tie her to the past, nothing to remind her of what she’d endured. Nothing to openly declare she’d been a fool. The heaviness of the case was a pleasant reminder that she was carrying her life with her. It felt damn good to realize she was leaving everything else behind.

Her resolve firmly set, she straightened to her full five foot eight, lifted her chin and walked under the archway of the Circle M ranch. She’d been told the owner was Logan Monahan, who raised cattle and quarter horses.

Once she was through the gate and actually on the property, her steps faltered. She was so far from Seattle it felt like another world. But that was what she wanted. Avery adjusted the shoulder strap of her bulging purse, switched the suitcase to her other hand and started walking again.

It didn’t take long for the thicket of overhanging tree limbs to thin out enough for her to see how far she had to walk. She gasped in dismay. The lane snaked for several hundred yards over the rolling land toward a grove of cottonwood trees on the crest of a hill, where she knew, from the detailed directions she’d been given, the ranch house was.

She was stronger now. She could handle anything. Gripping the heavy bag firmly, she put one foot in front of the other. On both sides of the lane, barbed-wire fences sectioned off green rolling pastures. Cattle and horses munched on the lush grass, their tails swishing lackadaisically back and forth, batting flies.

By the time Avery reached the house, she was out of breath and perspiring heavily. Too exhausted to really admire the two-story Victorian house, she did get a quick impression of butter-yellow walls, huntergreen shutters at the windows and a front porch that extended the width of the structure. The thump and bump of her case against the steps and her heavy breathing were the only sounds until she collapsed on the top step with a loud groan. Her arms were twitching with strain and her leg muscles ached. She cursed whoever had messed up and neglected to collect her at the bus station, hoping it wasn’t an omen of things to come.

After taking a few minutes to regroup, Avery struggled to her feet. She straightened the sleeveless denim dress and tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles, then pressed the doorbell. As she waited, she attempted to put some order to her hair, then waited some more. On the fourth try of the bell, with still no answer, she glanced around, a little nonplussed.

“Dammit, someone was supposed to be here,” she grumbled, and made a decision to go looking. She left all her belongings on the porch and wandered around to the side of the house. She gazed about and noticed the neglect evident in the flower beds, lawn and house. Gingerly, she stepped over an extension ladder lying on its side, as well as various tools carelessly scattered on the ground. Upon closer inspection she discovered that the side of the house had been scraped down, as if being readied for a new coat of paint.

She rounded a corner to the back and shaded her eyes to see rail fences and several other buildings. One was a small, one-story version of the main house. Its porch was shaded by blooming wisteria vines desperately in need of pruning. From the location of a truck and other machinery, she figured that two of the buildings were garages of some sort.

Despite the warmth of the sun, she shivered. The whole place was eerily quiet, as if everyone had just disappeared. Still, it awarded her the luxury of looking around and studying everything.

The last building puzzled her. It was a huge, square, redbrick structure with a slate roof and few windows. She looked from the Victorian house to the buildings again and realized what it was that nagged at her. While everything else seemed run-down, the redbrick building was modern and well kept, expensive looking. Though she knew little about ranch life, she figured it was the barn. Maybe she’d find someone there.

She’d just skirted the big truck, which was halffilled with hay bales, when she heard the sound of running water. She checked her pace, and it was then she saw him. Maybe it had been too long since she’d been so close to so much testosterone, but the sight of him made her tingle with nervous energy.

He was solidly built and naked to the waist, his tight, sun-faded jeans riding low on his hips. Bent forward with the hose held above him, he let a stream of water wash over his dark head and upper body.

Avery felt her heart slam against her ribs as she watched the water slide over his muscular shoulders and roll across his broad back, then trickle to his narrow waist and soak the waistband of his jeans.

She was transfixed by the way his muscles rippled under the tanned skin. Then he dropped the hose, straightened to what appeared to be at least six-four, and ran his fingers through his hair. Lifting her eyes from the knotted stomach muscles to his face, she bit her lip. He was not a pretty man. His nose was hawkish, his cheekbones high and sharp. His jaw, while strong, looked unrelenting. His chin and cheeks were lightly scarred from what she assumed was adolescent acne. His eyes were large and light brown, the color of autumn leaves, yet distant somehow. The only remotely soft feature that hinted at any flexibility was his wide mouth with its well-defined lips. At the moment they were held in a stern line.

A breathy sigh trembled across her own lips. He wasn’t handsome, not by her standards. But there was an aura of strength and pride about him. He was, she thought, the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“Are you going to stand there staring,” he snapped, “or are you going to throw me that towel?”

She jumped, every nerve in her body alive with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, grabbing the towel from the truck bed she was standing beside and pitching it to him. He plucked it from the air and began drying his hair, chest and stomach, never once taking those eyes off her.

“You want to tell me what you’re doing here?”

His voice was deep and smoky soft. Her own voice was stuck somewhere in her throat. Suddenly he smiled, and the appearance of a dimple in his right cheek was enough to jolt her out of her trance. “I’m Avery Jensen,” she told him.

He waited. When she didn’t continue, he returned to his task of drying off, and gave his hair another rough rub before pitching the towel into the back of the truck. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

If she could have, she would have kicked herself for acting like a dimwit. “I guess not if you don’t recognize it. I’m looking for Logan Monahan.”

“You got him.”

“What?”

“I’m Logan Monahan.”

To cover her confusion, she stuck out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Logan. I thought you were going to pick me up at the bus station this morning. When you didn’t show up, I tried to call, but no one answered.”

He was looking at her as if she was crazy. When he took a few steps toward her, she felt threatened. Reflex made her drop her hand and step back before she realized he was simply reaching for his shirt hanging on the corner of the tailgate.

She tried not to watch the way his muscles moved under the smooth skin as he slipped it on. She swallowed. “Mr. Wilson gave me a ride.”

Logan nodded. “He’s a neighbor. You say I was supposed to pick you up at the bus station today?”

“Three hours ago, actually,” she said, and barely managed to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“Me? Logan Monahan?”

She was becoming impatient with his questions. “That’s right. You did hire me, after all.”

“Did I?” Logan knew he was making her nervous, but he didn’t give a damn. His first impression was that she was a strikingly beautiful young woman, with her long, jet-black hair and clear gray eyes. Maybe eleven or twelve years his junior—twenty-eight, or younger. She carried herself proudly, shoulders straight and her full breasts thrust out.

A closer look made him scowl. Although her skin was a beautiful milky-white, there wasn’t a drop of color in her cheeks. She looked strained, exhausted. The kissable mouth seemed to tremble. She appeared too thin and a bit wired, as if she were running on air and sheer guts.

“Oh, hell,” he grumbled under his breath. She resembled a wounded animal. All his life he had tried to fix what was hurt. He hadn’t always managed, though.

“I hired you?” he asked again.

Avery felt light-headed, but there was no way she was going to end up a fainting female—not in front of this man. With a hand that shook, she reached for the truck’s tailgate and sat.

“I believe your specifications were very exact,” she said, “and I was the only one to fit the job description. You needed someone with computer savvy and bookkeeping skills, a no-frills cook, a general dogsbody to do light housekeeping, even-tempered and easy on the eye.”

“You mean I didn’t demand a strong back and good teeth, too?” Logan propped one worn boot on the side of the tailgate and gave her a long, amused look. She tried to hide her quick smile by ducking her head.

“Denise didn’t mention those.”

“But you fit the bill otherwise?”

She steeled herself. “Yes, indeed, and feel free to call Denise if you want to double-check my qualifications.” Oh, she was qualified, all right. She just couldn’t back up any of her qualifications. The only one willing to vouch for her was Denise Kirk, and they’d been best friends since they were ten. Denise would lie, cheat and steal for her. Fortunately, so far her friend had only had to lie.

Logan laughed. Then he said, “I think I see my father’s hand in this. He’s Logan Monahan, Senior. Mac to his friends and enemies. He has a few other names I won’t mention—they’re for when he sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong, which happens to be most of the time.”

A heavy sick feeling settled in her stomach like a brick. “You mean I came to the wrong place? Your father hired me?”

“No and yes. And no again. Oh, hell.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t need any help.”

She’d come so far, traveled by bus, of all things. She’d borrowed money from Denise for clothes and the ticket, and now it appeared she didn’t have a job. She didn’t even have the money to buy a return ticket. If she wasn’t so determined to keep from falling apart in front of this man, she would have thrown up all over his boots.

Anything she might have said fled from her mind when a vehicle suddenly appeared around the corner of the barn and skidded to a stop beside the truck. Avery scrambled off the tailgate and jumped back from the cloud of dust and sprayed gravel that pinged against the truck. Unfortunately she backed into Logan Monahan. He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her as they watched a young woman vault from the driver’s side.

“Dammit, Jessie,” Logan snapped. “You know better than to drive like that. Are you trying to kill yourself or me?”

Avery had the sudden sensation of being drilled clean through by a pair of knife-sharp, green eyes. Just as quickly, she was apparently dismissed as inconsequential, for the girl, Jessie, suddenly had eyes only for the man towering behind her. Avery figured her best bet was to keep quiet and let the little drama play itself out.

Jessie, she noted, couldn’t have been more than twenty. She reminded Avery of her own sister at that age, all brashness and swagger. The girl was beautiful, tall and slim, with an abundance of strawberry-blond hair, but it didn’t take much to see she was also spoiled and used to getting her way.

“I heard in town that Gus brought a woman out here, and Mac told. me you’d hired a housekeeper. You really didn’t need to do that, Logan.”

Logan’s hands were still on Avery’s shoulders, which she was all too aware of. She suddenly felt she was being used as a shield. Why, she wasn’t sure, though she sensed. Logan was in some distress. She stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Avery Jensen.”

“Oh, yeah. Hi,” Jessie said, rudely ignoring the extended hand. “Really, Logan, if you needed help, you should have asked me.” She glanced at Avery. “I’d be happy to drive you back to the bus station, and I’m sure Logan or Mac would compensate you for your time and inconvenience, but you see—”

“Shut up, Jessie. You don’t run things around here. The woman’s here and I’m going to give her a try.”

“But, Logan—”

“Drop it, Jess.” He waited as an older man climbed slowly from the truck. “Dad, I take it this is the young lady you stood up this morning.”

Mac Monahan dusted his hands on his thighs, pulled off his Stetson, then stuck out a hand to Avery. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I could have sworn that woman from the agency told me you’d be arriving tomorrow morning on the bus.”

“It’s okay,” Avery said. “Really it is. I managed.”

Mac laughed and turned a fierce scowl on his son. “You see, here’s a gal who thinks for herself. Took the bull by the horns and got out here on her own. Why don’t you let go of her, Logan? You’re holding on like she’s a fence post or something.”

Logan jerked his hand off her shoulders and took a step back. It was apparent to Avery that he was furious with his father.

“You old coot,” Logan grumbled. “You manipulated this little scene.”

“Logan, you don’t need a housekeeper.” The seductive tone in Jessie’s voice didn’t disguise the whine.

“Hush, gal,” Mac said. “This is Logan’s call.”

Logan gave a rough bark of laughter. “How kind of you, Dad,” he said, “for allowing me to run my life.”

Avery cringed inside. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize what was going on. At another time or place, she would have excused herself and been out of there in a second. Then again, if she’d been smart and less trusting, she’d never have gotten herself into this mess in the first place. Since walking away wasn’t an option, she had to endure being talked over, while the young woman shot dagger looks at her.

“I guess I’d better show Avery her living quarters,” Logan said wearily.

“No!” Jessie shouted, and looked ready to stomp her foot in a fit of temper.

With his son’s words, Mac perked up. “Great. Was that your gear I saw on the porch, Miss Avery? I’ll go fetch it.”

She didn’t know what had happened, but everything abruptly changed. Logan had hold of her arm now and she was being forcibly led away. “Just the one suitcase and my purse,” she said over her shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Logan.”

“Everyone calls me Mac, honey.”

“Come along, Miss Avery,” Logan said. “My father is too damn pleased with himself as it is to have you batting your pretty eyes at him. Now, I’ve had a long night and hard morning. Maybe I’ll be able to hold a more intelligent conversation after some rest.”

She didn’t want to rock the boat of good fortune, so clamped her mouth against any notion of a tart comeback. She went with him silently and obediently, managing another quick glance over her shoulder to see that Jessie was following them at a discreet distance. From the look on the young woman’s face, Avery had made an enemy. It was easy to see that Jessie was besotted with Logan Monahan. Poor dear, Avery thought. She knew all too well that feeling. Look where it had gotten her.

When they arrived at the one-story Victorian, Avery couldn’t restrain a grin as Logan gave an irritable swat at the vines that tickled the side of his face. “I’d be willing to bet my father had the place cleaned out,” he grumbled.

“He does seem like the take-charge type.”

Logan laughed. “He’s a pest, and when he gets a burr under his seat, it’s best to let him have his way—for a while.” Logan placed his hand on the doorknob and looked at her. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m a hard man to please.”

“From your father’s specific requirements, I figured that out for myself.” She decided he probably didn’t respond well to sass, and bit her lip.

Logan opened the door and pushed it wide. Avery squeezed past him, making sure she kept her gaze straight ahead and not focused on the exposed skin peeking from his unbuttoned shirt. “Oh, it’s wonderful!” she said and meant it. There was a small living room furnished with a comfortable chintz sofa and an overstuffed chair. The tiny kitchen was separated from it by a counter that would serve as a table. She walked around the room, then opened the only other door and found a furnished bedroom and bath. “This will do just fine.”

Logan, in fact, hadn’t been near the house in two years. The walls suddenly closed in around him and he had to will himself not to turn and run. Maybe the place was too small for his new housekeeper. He thought of the big house with its five spacious bedrooms and large modern bathrooms and felt like an ogre. “This was originally built as a mother-in-law house. You don’t have to—”

He broke off as Jessie let the screen door slam behind her. “Logan,” she whispered. “Please.”

He held up his hand for her to stop, then gazed past her. “Get the door for Mac, Jess.” His heart was racing like that of a cornered wild animal. He leaned against the wall, making it look as if he was just getting out of his father’s way, when all the time he was using the support to keep from falling over.

“Are you all right, Mr. Monahan?”

He’d lost track of time fighting the memories and hadn’t seen his father drag the suitcase into the bedroom, nor had he noticed that Avery had been watching him. “Logan,” he said. “We’re an informal bunch. I’m sure in a couple of days you’ll find other names for me.”

“You’re probably right,” Avery said seriously, but her lips twitched.

Logan didn’t actually smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled. “By the way, who’s Denise?”

Logan’s question coming out of the blue took Avery off guard. She replied, “Denise Kirk. She runs an employment placement agency in Houston. She’s also a friend.” She’d called Denise from the bus station in Haven, but planned to call her again. Her old friend would enjoy her predicament and all the drama.

“Do you mean to tell me that my father had to advertise all the way to Houston before finding someone to fill the position?” Logan laughed with real pleasure.

Jessie watched them with a scowl. Mac elbowed her and winked, and she jumped and rushed forward. “Why don’t you go rest, Logan, and take Mac back to the house with you? I’ll help Avery unpack and get settled in, then I’ll bring her up to the house and show her around.” Her lips twisted in a false smile as the men agreed and disappeared. She turned to Avery. “He doesn’t really need any help, you know. It’s just that Mac likes to have things his way and he thinks Logan needs someone.”

“Sounds like a concerned father to me.” Avery knew the girl was just itching for a scene or an argument, and she wasn’t about to accommodate her. She walked into the kitchen and started opening the cabinets, familiarizing herself with her new surroundings. It was definitely a change from her former residence.

“Mac’s concerned, but Logan can take care of himself, and I’m always around to help. We’re very close.” She picked up a pillow from the sofa and fluffed it.

Followed by Jessie, Avery headed for the bedroom. She was entertained by the girl’s jealousy and childish attempts to warn her off, but she could have told Jessie a thing or two about men, and Logan Monahan in particular. She’d seen the way he looked at Jessie. There was nothing in his eyes but controlled amusement. Certainly, there was nothing remotely sexual.

She opened her suitcase and began putting away her belongings under the young woman’s watchful gaze. It was hard to miss the swift lack of interest; she realized her clothes weren’t up to Jessie’s standards. Some of them even brought a sneer. Still, she could feel those angry, cat-green eyes boring into her, following as she moved around the room.

“Logan’s not interested in women, you know.”

Avery bit her lip, finished hanging up one of her cotton dresses, then gave Jessie her full attention. “You mean he’s gay? That doesn’t bother me.”

“God, no. He’s not gay. I meant, he’s still mourning Becky.”

Avery decided she might as well ask and save Jessie the effort of finding another way to tell her. “Who’s Becky?”

The turbulent gaze directed at her was a shock. She saw torment, an emotion far too heavy for one so young. The struggle to keep the pain at bay was evident in the way Jessie held herself so straight and stiff.

“Rebecca Middleton Monahan, his wife. My sister.” She cleared her throat, then swallowed hard. “They were madly, passionately in love. She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Avery said, pretending not to hear the anguish in the girl’s voice. She sensed that Jessie, under normal circumstances, would never talk to a stranger about her sister. But something other than her being hired to work for Logan had triggered Jessie’s highly charged state. All Avery could do was wait, seemingly not noticing, while the young woman composed herself.

“They were childhood sweethearts, you know,” Jessie finally added. My sister waited for Logan to finish college so they could get married.”

Avery had a sudden desire to put her arms around Jessie. Memories of a different time and place, of a younger girl, of heartbreak and misery, flooded back. She could have told Jessie that with time the pain would lessen.

Instead, Avery sat on the side of the bed, one hand squeezing the material of her dress. She was swamped by a wave of compassion and sorrow as it all came rushing back. She missed her friends, her job and her family. She missed laughing, and the secure feeling of being home. Texas was not Seattle. Logan was not her fiancé, and Jessie was not her sister, Emma. For her own sanity, Avery couldn’t afford to look back. She’d had to learn to be hard and unyielding for so long that any show of tenderness almost took her breath away.

The exacting lessons and self-preservation were powerful teachers. She’d made a promise to herself that no matter where she went or whom she met, she couldn’t afford to get involved. She would keep to herself, never ask questions unless they pertained to her job, and stay out of people’s personal lives. Most important of all, she would keep her mouth shut.

“What happened to Becky?” Avery asked. So much for promises, she thought wryly.

Jessie shrugged, got off the end of the bed and began to roam the small room, touching everything. “She and Jamie were killed in a car crash.” She tapped her fist to her chest as if she was having trouble getting the next words out. “It happened at the entrance to the ranch. She pulled out in front of an eighteen-wheeler.”

Jessie slid her fingers over the smooth wood of the bureau, then stopped in front of the mirror, where she straightened her bangs and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She checked the condition of her pink lipstick, then her eyes met Avery’s.

Her pose struck a too-familiar cord. Avery recognized the desperate actions of a person trying to disguise her feelings but still needing to talk. “Who’s Jamie?” she asked.

“Their son. My nephew. He was killed, too.”

Avery could think of nothing appropriate to say, nothing that would ease the hurt. She watched as Jessie angrily wiped away the tears from her cheeks with the back of a hand. Avery almost caved in and went to her, but suddenly their gazes clashed and she stopped in time. It didn’t take much to see that, for her own reasons, Jessie had made up her mind to hate her. She, Avery, was an outsider, an intruder in Logan’s life.

Jessie started to leave, then paused by the door to say, “I wouldn’t unpack everything if I were you. You won’t be here that long.” She gave the dress Avery was holding a contemptuous glance. “When you’re through, you’d better come up to the house.” The parting remark was said like the lady of the manor to a lowly servant. Avery gritted her teeth.

The girl’s lightning shift from heartbreak to arrogance puzzled her. With a shiver of foreboding, she thought maybe she should leave. There were too many dark currents under all that civilized surface, and too many raw emotions barely cloaked by strained smiles. But where would she go? With a sigh, she unhurriedly put away the rest of her belongings. As she did so, she realized something. She’d become a fighter, and she wasn’t going to be so easy to dismiss.

Before leaving the little house, she hesitated, taking the time to look around. This was her home now and the only one she was likely to have. All she had to do to stay was simply discover a way to get along with Logan Monahan.

CHAPTER TWO

AVERY FOLLOWED the well-worn path leading to the back door of the main house. The shade from the trees and the lazy breeze cut the noonday heat, cooling her skin and filling the air with the scent of honeysuckle.

She was a city girl, had never been on a ranch, but even so, she’d seen enough Westerns—movies and television shows—to realize something was wrong with the picture. The sun was shining. Birds were singing happily. She could even hear the rustle of trees in the wind. Somewhere far away she thought she heard the mournful bellow of a cow. The big brick building she thought was a barn appeared to be in perfect condition, but why the neglect everywhere else? The mystery was intriguing enough to ease her jumpy nerves and queasy stomach.

Avery mounted the steps of the porch, and as she drew closer to the door, she could hear raised voices. She hesitated before knocking. It was then that she recalled another nagging question. Except for the people in the house, the place seemed deserted. She would have thought a ranch would be a hive of activity.

Walking into the middle of a family argument wasn’t an appealing prospect. She’d done that too many times in her previous life and knew the pitfalls and the likelihood of getting sucked into taking sides. Curiosity got the better of her, however, and she tried to eavesdrop, but the rumble of voices on the other side of the solid door proved impossible to understand. She’d raised her hand to knock when the door was yanked open. Jessie pushed past her, followed by Mac at a more sedate pace.

“Don’t mind my son’s bark,” Mac said to Avery, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “It’s way worse than his bite, and he don’t mean nothing by it.” He patted Avery on the shoulder, winked, then lowered his voice. “And don’t let him bully you. He’s dang good at that.”

She smiled in gratitude, closed the door, then gathered her courage to face the lion in his den. The kitchen was spacious and wonderfully modern, obviously planned by someone who loved to spend a great deal of time there. Logan was seated at an antique oak table, his chair tilted backward, his hands locked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t help noticing that he still hadn’t buttoned his shirt.

Her line of thought shook her. She stomped on the mental brakes. For a long time she’d managed to bottle up that part of her, and this wasn’t the time to uncork it. There was too much at stake.

“Pull up a chair, Avery, and let’s have a chat.” Logan sighed wearily and closed his eyes. Avery took a chair opposite him. “It seems easier to go along with the program than fight my father,” he said, “so I guess you stay.” He dropped his hands from behind his head, settled the chair in an upright position and met her gaze across the table. “Let’s start off on the right foot and get something straight between us. I can’t abide mothering.

“Dad tells me you can handle a computer. That’s great, ’cause I’m terrible at it.” He rubbed his face and tried to concentrate. “He says you can keep books, do invoices, pay bills and generally make everything in the office run smoothly, so I can work. As for the cooking and housekeeping—” he shrugged “—I have a woman who comes in two days a week to clean. Sometimes she’ll cook a ham or a roast for me. But mostly I’ve been fixing my own meals when I can, or eating in town. So if you’ll just handle my meals, I think that’ll do. We’ll see how it works as we go along.”

“What about your father and Jessie?”

Logan frowned. “What do you—?” Then he realized what she meant and grinned. “They don’t live here, thank God. Jess stays on her father’s ranch with her brother. As for Dad, he divides his time between his house in town and the farm.”

She didn’t intend to involve herself in any personal conversations, and figured that keeping their association on a business footing was best. She needed to be efficient. Most of all she had to make herself irreplaceable. “That all sounds fine to me. You look exhausted, though. Have you eaten?” She pushed her chair back.

“You’re mothering me.”

“No, I work for you, Mr. Monahan. You just told me part of my job is to cook your meals. You also said your morning was long and hard. Mine was, too. It’s almost lunchtime and I’m hungry. I just assumed...” She let the unfinished statement dangle between them, and waited.

Avery was too logical for his sluggish brain to come up with a fitting retort. “I thought we’d agreed—none of this mister business. Just Logan.” He managed a strained smile. “A sandwich and a Coke will be fine, thank you. After that I’m going to rest for a couple of hours, so you might as well finish settling in.”

It didn’t take long to find everything she needed. His cleaning woman had baked a ham, and Avery quickly had his sandwich on the table. He was almost finished when she sat down. He didn’t try to hide the fact that he was watching her. It made her nervous, but she’d learned the hard way to hide her feelings.

“How old are you?” Logan asked, genuinely puzzled. She handled herself like a mature woman.

“Twenty-eight,” she said, then dabbed at the corner of her mouth and took a sip of her own Coke. “Is my age a problem?”

“None I can think of just now.” There was something that still didn’t seem right, but Logan gave up. He didn’t feel like playing games with her. He folded his napkin and rose from the table. “Your first official duty is to answer the phone and take messages.”

As HE CLIMBED the stairs to his bedroom, Logan wondered where he’d gotten the notion that she was playing games. Was that what she was about? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was more to Avery Jensen than she allowed him or the world to see. He’d have to give it some thought when he wasn’t one of the walking dead.

By the time he reached the landing, he felt like a man twice his age. As he passed one of the closed bedroom doors, he paused and stepped back. He put his hand on the cut-crystal doorknob and noticed how cold it felt. A familiar sense of foreboding settled between his shoulder blades. As much as he wanted to walk away, he couldn’t. He twisted the knob and opened the door.

He couldn’t force himself to take that step over the threshold, though, so he simply stood there. His son’s room was as silent as a tomb. It was also empty. Every piece of furniture, all the toys and posters had been taken away, but Jamie’s presence hadn’t been erased. Even the faint musty smell hadn’t obliterated that special child scent that was Jamie’s own.

For a moment Logan thought the pain in his chest would destroy him. He wished it would, and thus end the dreams and the awful longing. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still feel small arms wrapped tightly around his neck and hear the bubbly giggling in his ear. At last he pulled the door shut and continued down the hall, his heart filled with tears he could no longer shed.

AVERY LISTENED to the muffled footsteps overhead, the opening and shutting of doors, the rush of water in the old pipes, and knew he was taking a shower. Folding her arms on the table, she lowered her head and breathed deeply. More than anything she longed to relax, let go and cry from sheer relief. She’d done it. Her life was about to begin anew. This time, she vowed, she wasn’t going to screw up.

With that thought firmly in mind, she got to her feet. First she cleaned the kitchen and then studied the contents of the refrigerator, freezer and pantry so she could plan dinner. Then she decided to acquaint herself with the first floor of the house.

It didn’t take more than a few rooms to see that someone had expensive taste and a flare for decorating. There were antiques mixed with chintz, lace and leather. Still lifes and nineteenth-century portraits were artfully mixed with Oriental paintings, and all were cunningly arranged with a few fine pieces of Western art. Eclectic taste, to be sure and it worked, but Avery’s first thought was that the display was the work of someone who liked change but was loath to let go of the past.

Avery was very observant, and she realized there was something out of place here, too. Expensive area rugs covered the beautiful hardwood floors, and she noticed impressions in the nap of the wool where furniture once had stood. The room was obviously missing some major pieces.

Wandering back toward the rear of the house, across the hall from the kitchen, she found the office. It was full of the usual things—file cabinets, a computer, printer, a phone and fax machine. The desk appeared to be an antique. An effort had been made to bring some sort of order to the desktop—it had a clean, white pad of paper, an in-and-out tray and a brass pencil-and-pen holder. It was obvious this room was Logan’s territory and he’d furnished it. Here and there were items that showed a feminine influence—a cut-crystal vase full of dried flowers, a delicate china dish of potpourri.

But like the rest of the house, something was lacking here, too. As Avery was about to leave the room, she spotted boxes stacked haphazardly in a corner. A couple of them were open, and she saw the edges of picture frames. Her boss was either moving in or moving out. Puzzles—the house seemed full of them.

When the telephone rang, Avery flinched, still startled by the almost forgotten sound. She hesitated, then picked up the receiver, a little unsure how to answer. “Monahan’s,” she said, and recognized the surprise in the long silence that followed.

“Who is this?” a male voice demanded rudely.

“Avery Jensen. Mr. Monahan’s unavailable at the moment—may I take a message?” There was another lengthy pause. As she waited, she frantically searched the stacked papers on the desk for something to write with, found a stubby pencil, then tore off a scrap of paper from the unblemished notepad. “Hello?”

“Yeah, this is Tanner. Tell Logan Molly’s gone down on me again and if he doesn’t get here quick, I’m going to have to put her out of her misery.”

The phone clicked in her ear so abruptly she wondered if she’d just received an obscene telephone call. With the blank bit of paper in one hand and the pencil in the other, she walked to the bottom of the staircase and called Logan’s name. The second floor seemed to be his personal domain, his space when he was home, and she was reluctant to invade it. Then she realized how ridiculous she was being and sprinted to the top landing.

As she made her way down the hall, she noticed all the closed doors. She was tempted to stop and inspect each one. “Don’t do it, Avery,” she warned herself under her breath. “Keep your mouth shut and your nose out of his business.” She kept walking toward the door directly in front of her. It had to be the room situated directly over the kitchen and office, where she’d heard most of the sounds.

She knocked and called his name, then waited a moment before doing so again. The doors in the old house were solid, and even pressing her ear against this one, she couldn’t tell whether or not he’d heard. She’d raised her fist to give it another good pounding when the door was suddenly yanked open.

“What?”

Her gaze flicked over him, taking in every detail of the towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his damp skin and long muscular legs. She also noted the expression of frustration and anger on his face. It flustered her, made her stumble over her explanation. “Some—someone named Tanner called.”

She looked down at the blank piece of paper in her hand as if it would help, but saw entirely too much of her employer around the edges. Her eyes bounced back up to his face. She struggled to keep her gaze steadily fixed on an imaginary spot in the center of his forehead. “He said Molly went down on him and...” Her voice trailed away.

Ordinarily Avery didn’t blush, but now she felt the heat rising in her cheeks and couldn’t stop it. All her concentration was fixed on relaying the message and keeping her eyes from darting where they shouldn’t.

Logan watched fire stain her pale skin and gave a rough bark of laughter. “That got your attention, didn’t it?” He hooked the towel in his hand around his neck. “Did Tanner say anything else?”

“Only that he was going to put her out of her misery if you didn’t come quick.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder at the big bed. He sighed. “I’d better get over there.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “By the way, Molly’s a horse and down with colic.”

Avery was as nervous as a cat. But she managed a nonchalant shrug and forced herself to calmly turn and walk away.

Logan watched her, his eyes narrow and his jaw tight. She was a cool one. Too calm, too cool and much too collected. She hadn’t even cracked a smile.

Avery vanished down the stairs and out the front door, her heart pounding like a racehorse’s at the starting gate. Once back in her quarters, she leaned against the door to catch her breath, amazed by the way her hands shook.

After a desperate search of the kitchen for tea bags and a juggling act with a teapot, she almost dropped everything when there was a window-rattling pounding at her door.

Logan was standing on the porch holding some keys. “I locked up the big house, so you’ll need these to get in.”

She didn’t think she was crazy, but he seemed incredibly agitated. “What time will you be back?”

He barely stopped from snapping at her. “I don’t know—maybe in a couple hours. Maybe not, but make yourself at home. Unpack, look around, and if you need me, there’s a list of numbers by the phone in the kitchen.” He turned to go. “If I’m late, just leave me something to eat in the oven.”

She stood on the porch, watching him, and realized the truck he was driving was different from the pickup she’d seen earlier. This was white and one of those paneled things, with double doors that opened at the rear. And on the side of the truck was stenciled in black letters Monahan’s Veterinary Clinic.

As the sound of the truck dwindled away and she was suddenly left in silence, she smiled. “A vet,” she said under her breath, and wondered if Denise knew. Avery had only been told her new employer lived on a ranch and raised horses.

Logan had suggested she look around, make herself at home, and she intended to do just that. But first she had to call Denise and tell her the news.

“So how bad can a man be if he administers to sick and injured animals, Dee?” Avery asked when she’d dialed her friend’s number. “Not very.” She laughed.

“It’s good to hear you laugh, Avery. I take it you’ll keep me up to date on the mystery?”

“Yes, but, Dee, I don’t know how often I can call. I mean, I don’t know his work schedule yet. I’ll call when I can.”

“Sure. First see how the wind blows.”

“Thank you, Dee.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Especially your trust in me.” The lump in Avery’s throat kept her from saying more than a strangled goodbye. She blamed her weepiness on exhaustion. She’d get an early night tonight.

AVERY SAT BOLT UPRIGHT in bed, her heart banging furiously against her chest, her nightshirt damp with perspiration. Confused and disoriented, she fought for breath as she tried to figure out where she was and what had awakened her. She listened to the night and in the utter silence remembered where she was. She squeezed her eyes closed as relief washed through her.

It was funny, really. For eight months, twenty-four hours a day, she’d heard nothing but noise. Every minute of every day had been filled with sounds. She would lie awake at night and pray for just a moment of this sort of silence.

Her wish had been more than answered, but crazy as it was, the quiet had kept her from falling asleep until well after midnight. Maybe it was a nightmare, already forgotten, that had startled her awake. As she tried to shake off the residue of fear, she glanced at the travel clock on the bedside table and groaned.

Five o’clock and she was wide awake. She knew she’d never go back to sleep. The craving for freshly made hot coffee was far more appealing than wrestling with the covers for a few more hours.

Just as she was about to climb out of bed, something thudded against the side of the house, next to her bedroom window. Avery froze, straining to identify the sound, waiting to see if it would come again. When nothing happened, she exhaled, then laughed as she realized she’d actually been holding her breath. It must have been a wild animal of some sort, or maybe the wind blowing something against the house. She threw back the covers, swung her legs to the floor and reached for the lamp.

With her back turned to the window, she didn’t see the shadow slide past it or the way a pair of eyes watched her every move. As the glow of the lamplight chased the darkness to the corners of the bedroom, the figure stepped back and was swiftly swallowed up by the night.

DAWN DIDN’T SCARE the demons away. Still sluggish with sleep, Logan was halfway down the stairs when he smelled coffee. He froze, one foot suspended, praying it had all been a nightmare and he’d walk into the kitchen to find Becky sipping her first cup of coffee, Jamie talking a mile a minute, his upper lip covered by a milk mustache. Logan would hear that sweet childish laughter as he reached over and wiped his son’s mouth....

But he knew it was all in his head. He set his foot on the next step, then the next, until he could do it without having to tell himself to move, to think and to talk. Mornings were the worst part of his days, he thought. Then there were the nights.

“Good morning,” Logan said as he picked up the newspaper, pulled out the chair and sat down. When he looked at Avery, he was shocked. Yesterday she’d been a tall woman, her body shapeless in a shapeless dress. As she filled his cup, he scowled, then pushed away the cream and sugar. Today she was wearing jeans that still had that new stiffness and creases from being folded. The white cotton shirt, neatly tucked in at the waist, had to be right off the rack. She was all brand-spanking-new. He hadn’t missed the lovely way she was put together, either—the small waist, rounded hips and full breasts that pushed against her shirt. She had a woman’s figure, a refreshing oddity nowadays from the clothes hangers he usually saw. Logan lowered his gaze and took a sip of coffee. He didn’t miss the sparkling clean sneakers.

“Thanks for leaving dinner.” He opened the newspaper and shook it out. “Did you take a look around? You weren’t scared staying out here alone, were you?”

Avery was standing by the kitchen counter. She glanced over her shoulder and figured by the way his face was buried in the newspaper that he was just making polite talk. “I walked around enough to get the lay of the place. Do you want your eggs scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled with a little grated cheese in them would be good.” He watched her over the top of the paper, the way she moved so easily around his kitchen, finding everything she needed. This morning her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her pale skin had a little more color. But her gray eyes were dark and storm ridden.

“I sat on the fence for a while and watched the horses in the field.”

“Paddock.”

She set a plate of hot biscuits on the table. “They’re beautiful. I hope you don’t mind, but I looked around inside the barn.” She’d been delighted at what she’d discovered when she’d entered that enormous brick building. The smells and sights were all so foreign and new to her. Strange objects hung from doors and hooks.

There had been horses, too, and she’d been lulled into relaxing by the warmth of life, scents and sounds. One horse in particular had drawn her with friendly eyes and soft noises. She’d sat on a bale of hay outside the animal’s stall and talked until she’d nearly fallen asleep.

“They’re all big babies and love the attention,” Logan said. “Feel free to go in there anytime.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she scrambled the eggs and heated the slices of ham in another skillet. “I didn’t know you were a veterinarian. Is your clinic in town?”

“I’ve given up my clients at the clinic. My brother handles everything now.”

It wasn’t what he’d said, but the icy snap in his voice that indicated another closed door. He didn’t enlighten her further, and his expression made Avery change the subject. She placed his breakfast in front of him and took her seat across the table.

After he’d taken a few bites, she spoke. “I hope you don’t expect anything fancy for your meals. I stay fairly close to the basics.”

“Basic will do fine. I’m not picky and I’ll eat just about anything except green peas.”

A small smile touched her mouth. “Green peas. I’ll remember that.” The ice seemed to have been broken and she ventured, “I saw the office yesterday and wondered if you wanted me to start setting it up. It looks very disorganized.”

“That’s an understatement. And yes, please, start there. The manual on the special software I use for keeping records on the horses and cattle is in one of those boxes. You know, I consider myself a fairly intelligent man. I can understand complex chemistry formulas, but this manual...hell, it’s like reading Greek. So far I’ve managed to screw up everything I’ve entered. There’s a three-ring binder in the desk drawer with all the data. Then there’s the accounting program. I’m a little better at that, but I’ve been lax lately and there’s a box of receipts, bills and invoices to be posted. You think you can handle it?”

Her smile was a little wider this time. “Fortunately I read Greek.” She recognized the flash of amusement in his eyes. She liked the way the skin crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Who’s Tanner? Did you get there before he put Molly out of her misery?”

“Tanner’s my brother.”

“The other veterinarian?”

“No, that’s Pierce. Tanner’s our kid brother. He has a place down the road, but he’s always hanging around here. You’ll meet him soon enough. Molly’s fine. Tanner would sooner shoot himself than that horse. She had a bad case of colic, but we got her through the worst of it. I’ll have to keep an eye on her, though, because we haven’t pinpointed what made her sick. Bad feed more than likely.”

Logan amazed himself with his long-winded explanation. He must be more desperate for company than he’d thought, to be talking about his cases with a stranger. Hell, Becky had hated him bringing his work home, especially details of some of the more gruesome cases. He glanced at the clock, surprised by the time, and set about finishing breakfast.

Avery’s powers of observation had worked beautifully for her. She mentally tallied how much she’d learned about Logan without asking an endless stream of questions. He was a widower. His wife and son had been killed in a car accident. He was a veterinarian who’d given up his town practice. Obviously he wasn’t retiring, but setting up business from his home. It didn’t take much to guess that his loss had changed his life and been the deciding factor in his choice, though it wasn’t entirely clear why. He had a father who cared and worried about him. Also a sister-in-law who was madly in love with him.

Logan laid his silverware on his now clean plate and reached for his coffee. He’d permitted her game to go on long enough. “You’re not from around here—Texas, I mean. Where are you from, Avery?”

One thing Denise had drilled into her was if she lied, keep it simple and close to the truth. “Seattle.”

The answer startled a rusty laugh from Logan. “That’s a hell of a distance to go to find me some help. My father outdid himself this time.”

“Actually, a friend of Denise’s has a placement agency in San Antonio, and she told her about the outrageous qualifications some rancher had. After they shared a good laugh, Denise told her she had just the person.”

“So you were living in Houston?”

“That’s right.” She wondered if two weeks’ residency allowed her to claim Houston as home. At any rate it served her purpose.

Logan touched his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes. It was empty. Of course. He’d given up smoking. His mood darkened. “What or who are you running from, Avery Jensen?”

“I beg your pardon?” It was as if her heart had suddenly jumped into her throat. She swallowed painfully.

“You heard me. When a woman with your looks and obvious education decides to hide away on a ranch in a small Texas town, there’s something wrong. Is it an abusive husband you’re running from, or was he unfaithful?”

“No, no. I’m not married.” She made herself meet him stare for stare.

“A boyfriend?”

“No. Honestly, Logan—”

“Are you in trouble with the law?”

“No.” She stopped herself before shifting her gaze away from his. “I’m not in any trouble with the law and no one is looking for me. What I am is broke. What I need is a job, and this one suits me just fine.”

Logan finished his coffee. At one time—two years ago, to be exact—he’d been a good judge of character. Now he didn’t trust his own gut instincts. He didn’t think she’d lied, but there were secrets shifting around in those gray eyes, and that too-bland expression gave him pause.

What the hell did it matter? He certainly was in no position to judge people. His needs were basic and few—nourishment to keep his body functioning, a clean house and clothes. He needed someone to take care of the everyday chores he no longer had the energy for. Most of all he needed to be left alone. Logan had a feeling Avery Jensen was looking for the same things.

“We’d best get some things straight here and now,” he said. “Haven is not considered a small town in terms of its population, but it has a small-town mentality. There’s been a big infusion of wealthy people from San Antonio who, for whatever reason—status maybe—decided they wanted a ranch and picked Haven as the location. The only problem is they’ve brought the city with them, and the pecking order here now has two levels—the rich country-club set and the local social hierarchy.

“Both sides have their busybodies. They’re going to make a lot out of a beautiful, young, single woman living out here with a widower. If you plan to stay or make friends, you’ll have to deal with them on your own. Don’t expect me to help, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me out of your conversations.” He paused. “There are people in town who are going to talk about me. I don’t give a damn what they say, but you might.”

The corners of Avery’s mouth tipped slightly upward and she said, “I don’t take much stock in gossip. But just so I won’t be surprised or shocked, what sort of things am I likely to hear?”

“That I’m responsible for my wife and son’s death. That I benefitted by getting an ungodly amount of insurance money.” He shoved back his chair and stared down at her upturned face. “They’re right on both counts.”

CHAPTER THREE

LOGAN’S WORDS left her speechless. And just as she was picking her chin up off the floor, she caught a tiny glimmer of satisfaction on his face and a lingering impression that he was entirely too pleased with himself over her reaction. As if he was deliberately trying to shake her up. Well, he’d certainly succeeded.

Before she could recover enough to comment, Logan turned and left the kitchen. Had he meant what he’d said? Had he really been responsible for his wife and son’s deaths? The sound of the front door shutting noisily behind him snapped her from her reverie. She’d just seen a side to Logan Monahan she must never lose sight of. The man was nobody’s fool.

With the warning firmly implanted in her mind, Avery set to work cleaning the kitchen. The only sounds were of her own making. Sounds that were normal, everyday noises to anyone else, she treasured. Water running into the sink, the clink of dishes, the slap of the mop on the kitchen floor. Even the sound of her own humming.

When the kitchen was spotless, Avery stood back, admired her work and smiled. Who would have thought that in less than a year she could take so much pride in menial work? It certainly wasn’t something she’d ever excelled at before. Eight months didn’t seem like such a long time for so many changes, but for her it had been a lifetime. She’d learned a lot about herself and her abilities. She was stronger than she’d imagined. She was wiser, yes, but cynical and distrustful of everyone. And she’d come to realize she was a poor judge of people. But she was free and that was all that mattered—that and her job. She knew she’d do whatever it took to keep this job and her freedom.

The light housework gave her a chance to spend much of the morning roaming the big house, duster in hand, peeking behind closed doors, more mystified then ever by the lack of furnishings. All the upstairs bedrooms, except for Logan’s, were empty. The barren rooms made her uneasy. There was a sadness about them, and they made her shiver as if someone had walked over her grave.

Her inspection of Logan’s room told her little about the man other than he was neater than any male she’d ever known. Certainly tidier than her slovenly brother and even her fastidious father. Logan made his bed, picked up his clothes and placed them in the hamper. He even left the bathroom sink sparkling clean.

As she headed downstairs, she realized Logan Monahan didn’t really need anyone to take care of him. Then why was his father so insistent? A more disturbing thought was why had Logan agreed she could stay?

She worried at the edges of the question until something else struck her about what was missing in the house—the usual array of family photographs. The walls and dressertops were bare of pictures, nor were there any belongings or reminders of his wife or child. The house was as impersonal as a hotel. If he was responsible for their deaths, as he said, did that explain it somehow?

Don’t try to figure it out. Mind your own business and don’t get involved. She remembered the warning she’d given herself; she was prepared to follow it as if it was set in stone. With that thought in mind she continued with her morning work.

When she finally stepped into the office, her interest in working for Logan was stirred. Like yesterday, the desk was a chaos of papers, unopened letters and bills. Her eyes actually brightened at the overflowing boxes of files just waiting to be organized. At last her hungry gaze came to rest on the pillar of computer manuals perched rather precariously on the edge of the desk. Yes, she’d enjoy this work, and she’d be good at it.

She inhaled the scent of leather, stale coffee and books—all the essences an office should have. To her the scents were as intoxicating as French perfume. Once, not so long ago, her world had been centered in just such an office, a world of power and position, a world of people who looked up to her and listened to her advice as if she were a goddess. She caressed the top of the monitor as she rounded the desk, and didn’t even mind that her fingers came away dusty. Her heartbeat accelerated as she settled in the big leather chair, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Logan may not need her pitiful domestic talents, but he needed her office help.

The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted her upright. She’d been far away in a daydream of a happier time; she’d thought she could actually smell the leather of her executive chair. She’d have sworn she heard her secretary’s laughter and her father’s deep rumbling voice.

The phone shrilled again and reflexively she picked it up and said, “Yes, Margaret?” She caught herself, then said, “Monahan ranch.” The caller would think she was the village idiot. When there was no answering voice, she repeated her greeting.

Still nothing but silence. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard the distinct sound of fast breathing. She felt a creeping sensation, as if something clammy was crawling over her skin. Inexplicably, she knew this call wasn’t a childish prank, but something more insidious.

Nevertheless, she tried again. “This is the Monahan ranch. Who’s there?” She used an angry tone, hoping to banish her fear that someone already knew about her.

“Hang up.”

The male voice charged with authority didn’t come from the receiver but from the doorway, and three things happened at once. Avery gave an ear-piercing scream. The phone clattered to the floor. And as she jerked to her feet, she knocked the stack of computer books off the corner of the desk.

The stranger filling the doorway clamped his hands over his ears and backed away slightly. “Hey. I’m family.”

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “So do you usually just waltz in without knocking or letting anyone know you’re coming? You scared the living daylights out of me.” He looked a lot like her boss, but was taller—at least six-seven—and whereas Logan was solid and muscular, this man was lean and stringy. She eyed him warily.

“I’m Tanner, darlin’, Logan’s youngest brother. And I’ve never knocked before and don’t intend to start now. You must be Avery—the burr in Jessie’s craw, new grist for the gossip mill and the reason Dad’s walking around with a grin the Cheshire cat would envy. And yes, I use to play pro basketball.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“But you wanted to.”

“No,” she lied, “it never crossed my mind.” He was charming, handsome and obviously having entirely too much fun at her expense. Avery tried to keep him in her line of vision as she began picking up the fallen manuals. “You called yesterday, didn’t you.”

He nodded and grinned. “Yep. I was surprised when Logan the Bear didn’t answer.”

“Logan the Bear?”

Tanner laughed, a delicious sound of pure amusement. “You got it, sweetheart. He has other pet names—as do we all. But that’s for another day. You can see I’m harmless, though, so why don’t you stand up and let me get a good look at you?”

“Harmless” was not a term that fitted this man. His charm, she sensed, could be most dangerous. And where Logan’s eyes were light brown, Tanner’s were black, lively and full of mischief. Even though she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking a dozen questions, one slipped out. “Why did you order me to hang up?”

“It was an obscene call, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “No one said anything.” As she restacked the manuals on the desk, she continued to watch him, but he didn’t seem inclined to do more than drape himself in the doorway. “What makes you think the call was obscene?”

“You were angry. Your cheeks were on fire, and those big gray eyes were kind of iced over.” He straightened. “We’ve all gotten a few of those calls. It seems to go with the territory of being a main topic of conversation in this town. Don’t let them bother you. It’s just kids and their nonsense.”

Avery had always had a kind of radar for trouble. She didn’t know Tanner well enough to tell him her own feelings about the caller. She finished stacking the books, pretending not to see the way he looked her over, but she was painfully aware of the warmth that stained her cheeks. The absurdity of it almost made her smile. She’d blushed more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the past five years, all brought on by Monahan men.

“Where’s Logan, by the way?” Tanner glanced at his watch. “It’s a bit early, but my stomach tells me it’s lunchtime.”

“Damn,” Avery said as she rounded the desk and almost knocked the books off again. “I forgot about lunch.” Tanner didn’t move and she was forced to stand and wait.

“Let me ring the barn,” Tanner said. “That’s where he spends most of his time—where he hides from the world.”

Tanner stepped around her, picked up the phone and punched in a number. He gave her a wink. “Don’t worry about lunch. I’ll fix it.” He stopped her protest by motioning for her to be silent. “Hey, Logan. How about coming up to the house? I’m starving.”

Tanner knew the kitchen far better than she did. She realized all too quickly she was only in his way. Finally, after they’d bumped into each other twice, he guided her to a chair and gently but firmly pushed her into it. All she could do was watch as he gathered items from the refrigerator and set to work. What Logan would think when he saw his brother taking over her duties, she couldn’t say. She decided the best thing to do, however, was keep her mouth shut and be still.

“Have you ever had a grilled cheese sandwich Texas-style?”

Avery shook her head, amused and a little miffed at just how efficiently Tanner moved around the kitchen.

“You’re in for a treat. Mind you, it’s not often I make these for anyone but Logan. So don’t get any ideas about making them yourself just because it’s my brother’s favorite meal.”

She grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.”

She kept a straight face, though she had to work at it, as he pulled a loaf of bread from the freezer, then held it close to his body as if trying to keep Avery from seeing it. Then she realized why. He was thawing it just enough to separate the extra-thick slices.

Just as Tanner was carving slabs off a block of cheese, Logan walked in. Avery had been so captivated and amused by Tanner’s running dialogue about everything and nothing that she’d forgotten to keep her guard up. Logan’s eyes found hers and held her gaze for a long moment, as if searching for an answer to something. She was the first to look away.

Logan hung his Stetson on the hat rack, and his gaze shifted to Tanner, who was busy at the counter. “I see you’ve met Peewee.”

Avery felt more than saw Tanner bristle at the name, and didn’t know whether to move out of the way or laugh when he carelessly tossed a wrapped stick of butter at Logan.

Logan plucked the butter smoothly from the air, unwrapped it and handed it back to Tanner.

“I hope you’ve washed your hands,” Tanner said, then glanced at Avery, his black eyes dancing with laughter. “You do know that half the time a vet is up to his elbows in—”

“Mind your manners, little brother, at least until she knows you better.” Logan opened a cabinet, pulled out a blender, then looked at Avery. “We tend to make chocolate malts at lunchtime—especially for washing down Tanner’s clunkers—so you’d best get the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. There’s a jar of malt in the pantry.”

And that was how it started—Logan and Tanner treating her as if they’d known her for years, sending her scurrying around the kitchen fetching, carrying and measuring while Tanner explained the highlights of his methods for making the “world’s best” Texas-style grilled cheese sandwiches. Logan, too, was diligent about explaining the art of concocting his “prizewinning” extra-thick malts. Of course, both explanations were going on at the same time, and any questions she might have asked were hopelessly lost in the cacophony.

At last the meal was ready. She picked up half of her monster sandwich and raised it to her mouth, then paused. The brothers waited, their amused gazes on her. She realized they were waiting for her praise. She eyed Tanner, then Logan over the top, deliberately stretching out the moment.

“I can feel my arteries clogging already.” she said.

Finally she took a bite. Logan and Tanner leaned forward as warm soft cheese oozed from the sides of the crispy-brown toast. Avery closed her eyes and slowly chewed. She swallowed and looked at Tanner. “Bigger is better,” she said with a smile. She meant it. The sandwich was wonderful.

“Now try the malt,” Logan urged.

She wiped her greasy fingers on her napkin, reached for the frosty glass and took a huge gulp. It was thick and entirely too cold. Immediately she paid for her gluttony, but even though a knife-sharp pain shot through her head, she grinned and managed a hoarse, “Heavenly.”

“Brain-freeze.” Logan laughed and picked up his own sandwich. “Happens every time.”

Avery hadn’t thought she could finish the sandwich. But not only did she clean her plate, she tilted her glass until every last drop was drained. With a sigh of contentment, she set the glass down, then realized Logan was staring at her. A flash of heat colored her cheeks.

Logan ignored the awkward moment and asked, “Have you tackled the office yet?”

Tanner butted in without giving her a chance to answer. “Avery had one of those calls.”

The smile died and Logan’s eyes hardened. “How bad was it?”

“She said—”

This time Avery cut him off. “I can speak for myself, thank you. And I never said it was an obscene call. You did. All I heard was breathing.” For some reason she couldn’t bring herself to tell Logan that the call made her uneasy.

“Well, just so you’re prepared, you’ll get a few. The whole family has. The calls run the gambit of heavy breathing to outright threats.”

“Have you reported them to the police?”

Logan and Tanner shared a hard look, then Logan said, “Ross Middleton is the sheriff of Haven. He was my wife’s brother. He’s not willing to give much credence or time to crank calls.”

“I wonder why,” Tanner said sarcastically. “I know, I know, you don’t want to discuss it.”

Avery was mystified. She watched as Tanner picked up his dirty dishes and dumped them in the sink. “I’m out of here, folks,” he said. “Thanks for lunch. Avery, it was good to meet you.” He opened the door, then stopped. “I’m bringing Molly over later, Logan. So don’t do one of your famous disappearing acts, okay?” He waved and left, leaving a growing silence behind.

Avery gazed around at the chaos in the kitchen with a sinking feeling. How had it happened? She’d been enjoying herself so much she’d forgotten to notice what a mess the two men had made.

“Did you make any headway in the office?”

“I was just about to start when your brother came in.”

Logan had been pleased to see that wounded look disappear from Avery’s eyes when he and Tanner had been cooking and generally acting silly. But now it was back, and it reminded him of an animal that couldn’t tell him where it hurt.

Cruelty in any form saddened him and made him angry. He’d devoted most of his life administering to defenseless creatures that had borne the brunt of human rage and brutality. Who had hurt her?

He was good at diagnosing what ailed his patients, good at figuring out the puzzles. Avery was a different matter, though. He’d have to find out about her pain another way.

Logan had not forgotten his parting remark that morning. He knew she must be wondering. “Why don’t I help you clear up this mess and we can talk? I’ll try to answer any questions you have.”

Avery realized she had a hundred questions, but none she was willing to risk asking. Stick to business, she reminded herself. The last thing she wanted or needed was to get involved in Logan’s life.

Together they carried the dirty dishes to the sink, and as she began filling the dishwasher, she noticed him watching her. His eyes no longer seemed distant. They had a gentle, knowing look, as if he perhaps saw far too much. An icy finger of unease ran down her spine. She wanted to keep her past to herself, hidden away so she’d never have to face the shame of what had happened to her.

Her nerves must have been more frayed than she’d thought, for unthinkingly she said the first thing that popped into her head. “Why is the house so empty? It’s obvious there was furniture. I mean, there are indentations in some of the rugs and I was...” Her voice trailed away. She couldn’t believe she’d actually asked.

Logan barely managed to keep from smiling. He was aware that she’d dropped her guard, but now it was back in place. She was obviously trying to ignore the way he was staring as she busied herself by filling the sink with soapy water to scrub the cast-iron skillet and the blender. He liked the way she moved, the sway of her hips, the graceful hand gestures.

He leaned his backside against the edge of the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “All the missing furniture belonged to my wife, to Becky’s family. They’re heirlooms from Becky’s mother, who wanted them back after the accident. There wasn’t any reason to kick up a fuss. I never particularly cared for them in the first place. They always had a musty smell I disliked.”

“And there was no reason to replace them?”

“Not with just me living here.” He changed the subject to her. He still wanted to understand about her past. “I hope you called your family and let them know you arrived safely. Where did you say you were from?”

“Seattle. And I don’t have anyone there anymore. I called Denise last night.”

“Denise, the friend in Houston? The one who got you this job?” Logan glanced around the kitchen. “I don’t know if she did you a favor or not. Just wait until you tackle the office.” He was intrigued by her smile, as if her lips were unused to the movement.

Avery found that the turn the conversation had taken was making her edgy, so she headed off any further questions with another of her own. “I thought from what you said yesterday that you no longer had a practice, but from what I saw in the office, you seem to be in business.”

“Confusing, isn’t it. There’s a saying in my work—once a veterinarian, always a veterinarian. It’s true. I have patients I’ve treated for years. Their owners aren’t willing to go to anyone else, even my brother. They refuse to let me retire and they call here day and night.”

“And you don’t turn them down, do you,” she said softly. Warmth coursed through her. Maybe the world did have people you could believe in. For all Logan’s initial indifference and the aura of mystery, he was a caring, sensitive man. Then the warm feeling cooled. What did she know about people? Hadn’t she learned, the hard way, that her judgment couldn’t be trusted?

He watched her attack the dirty skillet with zeal and a wire scrub brush. Her abrupt silence baffled him. He waited for Avery’s next question, because weren’t women, in general, notorious truth seekers? Secrets drove them nuts and led to a cross-examination worthy of the CIA. But Avery didn’t fit that mold, seemed loath to put a voice to her curiosity.

All of a sudden, he understood. Conversation, with questions and answers, was a two-way street. By asking, she would leave herself open to being quizzed. That was the last thing she wanted.

As Avery scrubbed, unaware of Logan’s thoughts, she allowed herself to dream a little, to slip back into familiar territory. “You’ll need me to set up your books as a small-business venture,” she said. “And of course you’ll want invoicing and billing. What about inventory? I mean, you use supplies and stuff, right?” She didn’t have a clue what a veterinarian required, but figured his needs were closely in line with those of a medical doctor. A vet was a doctor, after all. “And you’ll need tax depreciation on your equipment. Oh, and a profit-and-loss statement.”

She turned her head and looked at Logan. Omigod. Had she said too much, given something away?

“That sounds about right to me.” Logan’s suspicions were confirmed. She was well educated. Laypeople didn’t throw around terms like profit-and-loss statements and tax depreciation.

But Avery, excited by the prospect of getting involved in something she loved, forgot about discretion. Just as she started to tell Logan some of her plans, the kitchen door swung open. Hair flying, hands full of paper sacks, voice loud and laughing, Jessie Middleton blew into the kitchen like a whirlwind. She was scantily dressed in short shorts and a tank top that left little to the imagination.

The fact that she was being ignored made Avery bite her lip. Obviously Jessie thought that by pretending not to see the interloper, Avery would simply disappear. Well, Jessie was in for a shock. Bad manners didn’t faze Avery in the least. The less she was lured into this family and its problems, the better off she’d be. But becoming invisible didn’t seem to work with Logan. He was standing directly behind her, and as she started to move away, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

Jessie kept her gaze on Logan’s face as she began pulling plastic containers from one of the bags. “I brought lunch. Your favorites, Logan. I talked Louise into making chili. She used Becky’s recipe.” She darted a cutting look at Avery. “You always said Becky was the best cook in the world and her chili was worth its weight in gold—” she giggled “—or did you say it was worth its weight in hot peppers? Anyway, I thought it would be a treat. Do you have any beer? Oh, and I stopped off at the café just in time. Maebell was taking blackberry cobblers out of the oven. You know how stingy she is about using her stockpile of fresh berries, but when I told her it was for you, well, she couldn’t say no. She never forgot how much Jamie and you loved her cobblers, and the blackberry was his very favorite in the whole world. You ought to stop by the café. Logan. She misses Jamie like we all do.”

Jessie juggled the deep-dish cobbler pan like a hot potato, then quickly set it on the table. “I’ll get the plates,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Jess,” he answered, his apology laced with kindness, “but we’ve eaten.” He made an effort to continue to smile. The mention of his son opened that deep hole in his heart again, like a fresh wound. He tightened his grip on Avery’s shoulder.

“But, Logan, it’s not even twelve-thirty yet! You never eat before twelve-thirty.”

“Tanner stopped by and made sandwiches for us.”

“Grilled cheese?” Jessie asked. “He fixed his grilled cheese sandwiches?” Her gaze swung to Avery, as if to confirm her worst fears, then back to Logan. “And you made malts?”

Apparently Logan had hurt her feelings. He walked over to Jessie, slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brotherly hug. “It was thoughtful of you to go to so much trouble and I appreciate it, Jess, really I do. But you should have checked first, honey.”

“I never had to check before.”

“How about storing this stuff in the fridge and I’ll eat it tonight?”

It didn’t take a genius to realize that as sure as the sun rose every morning, Jessie was going to blame her, Avery, for Logan’s rejection. Avery had a feeling she was being dragged into something and she should turn tail and run as fast as possible. But where would she go?

Jessie threw barbed glances, full of loathing, at her as she pitched the food containers into the refrigerator and slammed the door. “I’ll help you groom the horses, then.”

Logan smiled and shook his head, “Thanks for offering, kitten, but the boys are here today. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be in San Antonio this week making arrangements for Fiesta?” He glanced at Avery to explain. “Fiesta San Antonio is a big celebration held every year. And Jess is one of the duchesses.”

Before Avery could comment on that, Jessie stormed out of the house, slamming the kitchen door. “She’s in love with you, you know,” Avery said instead.

“Nonsense. Jess is like a kid sister. Hell, she was a kid when Becky and I married. She spent more time here than with her parents in San Antonio.” Avery’s statement seemed to give him pause. “Okay, she’s always had a schoolgirl crush on me, and she’s just overprotective since Becky’s death. I think she feels a need to take care of me. I just wish this possessiveness would run its course and she’d direct all those pent-up feelings toward someone else.”

Men could be so dense sometimes, Avery thought. Or maybe he wasn’t all that blind. She remembered, when she’d first arrived and again just a few moments ago, he’d used her like a shield against Jessie’s advances. She sensed Logan was a man with too many problems on his plate and didn’t know how to deal with them all at once. She certainly wasn’t about to add to his troubles. “She’s a little old for a schoolgirl crush, Logan.”

Big mouth. What happened to her promise to keep her opinions to herself?

“She’s immature and I feel sorry for her. She worshiped Becky, and my wife was the only Middleton who took much notice of Jess or who could handle her wildness. I think Jess has latched on to me as a way to deal with her grief. It’ll pass with time.”

Wildness was only one word Avery would use to describe Jessie. Others came more to mind, such as spoiled and disturbed. She recognized the signs and knew all too well where the young woman was headed if she didn’t get some help. Avery could have told Logan a few things about the pitfalls of sticking his head in the sand. She’d done the same with her father and brother. Look what it had cost her.

“Your guilt won’t do her any good, Logan.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“I see a lot of my brother in Jessie. I wish someone had recognized the signs.” When she realized her slip, her hands shook. Avery quickly busied herself by drying the heavy cast-iron skillet.

He knew the second she withdrew back into herself, and he sighed. Hell, he had enough worries of his own. Taking on a stranger’s problems was beyond him. “You know, Avery, you can’t run forever. Believe me, I’ve tried, and I promise you it’ll catch up with you. If you’re in some sort of trouble, I might be able to help.”

She turned, ready to deny that she needed anyone, much less his assistance. Their eyes met and held, and the words caught in her throat. At an earlier time in her life she would have been thrilled to have a man look at her the way Logan looked at her. Things were different now, though. She couldn’t afford to believe in anyone, much less trust herself.

Logan didn’t look away from the shifting emotions in Avery’s lovely gray eyes. Having a good-looking, desirable woman underfoot perhaps wasn’t such a good idea, he mused. After all, he’d only agreed to the crazy scheme to shut his father up and keep him from interfering any further in his life, but that was before Logan had felt the novelty of desire zing through his veins. He halfheartedly cursed himself for being weak. “Whatever you’re running from, Haven’s the right place to get lost. Nothing much happens here.”

Suddenly the kitchen door slammed open against the wall and a lanky teenage boy, arms waving like flags, eyes round with fear, skidded to a stop just inside. “Doc, come quick! Something’s wrong with the horses. They’re all really sick.”

“If this is one of your jokes, Benton, so help me...” But Logan was moving, and his threat lacked any anger as he saw how pale and scared the boy was. He grabbed his hat, then turned to Avery. “How are you around horses?”

“I don’t know. Except for yesterday, the closest I’ve ever been to one was the television.”

Her answer made him give a quick bark of laughter. He motioned for her to join him. “I might need you.”

The thought of being needed, even wanted, was all the impetus Avery required. She took off after Logan.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE AFTERNOON SUN was high overhead. There wasn’t even a breath of wind. The shock of stepping from the sweet coolness of the house into the heat of the day was like walking into an inferno. Avery’s limbs felt leaden, sweat promptly dampened her forehead and it was an effort to keep up with Logan.

She saw the boy, Benton, disappearing into the dark hole of the open barn doors. Who was he? she wondered, then remembered Logan’s saying to Jessie something about the boys being there today.

Once inside, she shivered as the breeze created by the overhead fans touched her damp skin. Four teenage boys were lined up outside a stall. When they saw Logan, they silently stepped aside to let him enter.

Logan recognized the pungent odor of sickness. From the sound of Allspice’s labored breathing, the horse was close to death. He hunkered down beside the animal and felt his pulse.

“What happened here?” he asked the boys.

They all hung back except Benton. His voice cracked with emotion. “We were just feeding them like we’ve always done, Doc.”

Avery stood there, horrified, as she looked at the horse, crumpled in the hay. His beautiful red-brown coat was slick with sweat. She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears with each rattling breath. “How sick is he, Logan? Can you give him something?”

Logan didn’t answer, but moved from stall to stall, evaluating each horse’s condition and listening to Benton.

“You know Allspice, Doc. He always has to be first or he kicks the stall. And he’s a glutton. But by the time we fed the others, Allspice was like that.”

“The feed?”

One of the other boys spoke up. “That was the first thing we thought of, Doc. Maybe it had soured. We took it away from all of them, but they’d eaten some—not as much as Allspice, but...” His voice trailed away in anguish.

Logan headed toward a row of feed bins against the far wall. He reached in, brought a handful up to his nose and sniffed. “It’s tainted,” he said. “Tom, empty the bins into those metal trash cans, then take it to the storeroom, lock the door and bring me the key. Under no circumstances are any of you to use any feed from that room.” He glanced at Avery.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Come with me.”

Avery followed him toward the front of the barn, then through a green door, which he unlocked. She got a quick view of a small waiting room before she trailed him down a hall to another world, an environment of spotless stainless steel, high, glass-fronted cabinets with neat rows of labeled bottles. They passed through a set of double glass doors, and Logan stopped beside an examining table.

“I need you to call Tanner and tell him not to bring Molly here.” He pointed to a typed list of phone numbers taped to the wall as he stuffed vials of medicine and syringes into his shirt pockets. “If you can’t reach Tanner at home, try his cell phone. After you talk to him, call Dad and tell him to get in touch with Pierce. When you finish, come find me.”

He was barely out the door when she had Tanner on the phone. In an economy of words, and because she had no idea what had happened to the animals, she was curt with Tanner, but softened when he offered to call Mac and Pierce. As she talked, she had a chance to look around the office. There was an array of confusing items: instruments in glass drawers; tables on wheels which held colored bottles; what looked like a pressure cooker of some sort.

Remembering Logan’s orders, Avery gave one quick glance at the photograph of a child on the wall, then headed out. She found Logan kneeling beside Allspice, stroking the quivering horse’s neck and talking softly to him. She saw an empty vial and syringe.

“Is he going to be all right?”

Logan didn’t answer. She waited for what seemed forever, watching him tenderly care for the sick horse. When Logan finally looked up, she realized the harsh breathing had stopped.

Avery blinked back sudden tears. Not only for the horse, but for the pain in Logan’s eyes.

“Do you still want to help?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“It won’t be easy, and if you’ve got a weak stomach, you better say so now.”

“I’ll be okay and I’ll do whatever you say.” She glanced at the motionless animal and had to ask, “Are they all going to die?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” His tone held grim determination.

Something about Logan changed, like light shifting across his face. She could have sworn she caught a glimpse of rage, just under the surface and ready to boil over.

AVERY GRIPPED Possum’s lead as she walked the dainty dappled-gray mare around and around the paddock. She’d learned from watching two of the boys, also walking horses, how to hold the lead rope close to the side of the animal’s face so she could pet her and talk to her. Raul was walking King Moe, a black stallion too ill to be ornery, the boy said, and Tony was walking Hopalong, a pretty, light brown horse with a white tail and mane.

She discovered a lot about the boys as they walked. They were working for Logan without pay as punishment for getting into trouble at school. From the way they cared for the horses, she didn’t think they minded their punishment. She would have learned more, but the increasing heat, worry and the struggle to keep the horses on their feet and walking soon took all her energy.

She lost track of time or how long she’d been walking until Logan came out, shoved a wide-brimmed straw cowboy hat on her head and handed her a bottle of water, insisting she drink some now. Then he clasped her chin in his hand and searched her face. He smiled as he said, “Your nose and cheeks are turning pink. Keep the hat pulled low.”

She was perfectly still and gazed steadily into his eyes. “I’m okay.”

Logan nodded and reluctantly dropped his hand. He was impressed that she didn’t complain or want to quit because she was tired, dirty and hot. “If you feel dizzy or nauseated at all, don’t be ashamed to speak up.” He busied himself examining Possum. “You don’t have to prove anything to those kids. Believe me, you’re not tougher than they are just because you’re older.”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” she mumbled softly, but not so softly he didn’t hear.

He hid a grin as he pulled a full syringe from his shirt pocket. “Those kids are used to working in the heat.” He gave Possum a shot.

“How are the other horses, Logan?”

“Mac’s Lady isn’t going to make it, but Dad’s not ready to let go of her yet.”

He saw her eyes fill with tears. “What happened?” she asked. “Have you found out what made them sick?”

The truth could send her running to Haven to jump on the first available bus. He glanced at her again. Disheveled and tired, she still managed to look tempting. And strong. Nevertheless he sidestepped her question. “Pierce’s taking samples of the feed to be analyzed.”

“Do you have any ideas?” she asked.

Strong and persistent. He sighed. “There’s little doubt that they were poisoned.”

“Oh, no! Surely you’re wrong. Who would do something like that? And why?”

Logan shrugged, unwilling to put words to his demons.

Avery caught sight of Raul and Tony inching closer, their youthful curiosity aroused enough that caution was forgotten. She tried to keep her gaze on Logan so the boys wouldn’t feel as if they were suspects. But she sensed a change in Raul’s and Tony’s demeanor.

Raul’s stiff stance radiated outrage. Black eyes narrowed and shimmered like polished rock. The jerk of his head and the defiant flip of his long ponytail were further outward signs of anger. “Doc, we didn’t...” For all his bravado, words failed him.

Tony looked scared sick and seemed unable to say anything at all.

Logan glanced around. “I never thought you did, Raul.”

“But Sheriff Middleton will, won’t he?”

Tony found his voice. “I swear, Doc.”

Logan began examining the other two horses. “Let me handle the sheriff.”

“But—” Raul began.

“Raul, I’ve seen you with the horses. Whatever your problems at home or school, I know that it isn’t in any of you to hurt an animal.” Whatever had almost killed off his stock was far more sophisticated than anything a bunch of teenage boys could come up with. Logan patted each horse, pleased to see the medicine and attention were working. “Keep them moving, boys. Don’t let them cool down yet.”

“They’re scared and worried,” Avery said, when the two youths had led their charges away.

“I know. No matter what we find out, there will always be those who believe the kids had something to do with this mess.”

Avery cringed. “The stigma never goes away, no matter how innocent you are.”

Logan didn’t comment on her statement, but tucked the tidbit of information away to mull over later. “Give a holler when you’ve had enough, and someone will spell you.”

Avery returned to circling the paddock with Possum. The only real relief in the long afternoon heat came when they stopped and allowed the horses to drink. After she and the boys hosed down the sweatsoaked animals, they took advantage of the cool water themselves and indulged in a friendly water fight. Afterward, the boys loosened up enough talk about themselves. Their crimes were so typical of teenage boys that she laughed. But it seemed parents, teachers and the law of Haven, Texas, kept a careful and collective watch on their young people. As Avery resumed walking Possum, she secretly admired their efforts.

“Are you sleepwalking or daydreaming?”

Startled, Avery jerked to a stop. “Hi, Mr. Monahan.”

“I thought we’d agreed you’d call me Mac.”

Whatever she was about to say was drowned out by the roar of an engine. “What’s that?”

“Tanner finally got the tractor running. He’s going to bury those poor horses.”

“I’m sorry Mac’s Lady didn’t make it.”

“She was a fine quarter horse. Logan trained her and Tanner rode her at the rodeos before he bought Molly.” Mac waved at the boys, then pulled off his hat, scrubbed at his lined face and sighed loud and long. “This is a sad day, I tell you, when someone’s so evil they take their hate out on defenseless animals.”

“Does anyone have any idea who would do such an awful thing?”

Mac’s lips thinned and the expression in his hooded eyes looked downright deadly. He shook his head. “Ain’t got a clue. ’Course, you might ask Logan that same question.” He paused. “Who knows, he might just tell you. But the boy’s being his typical closemouthed self with us.”

They walked side by side around the paddock, silent, both listening to the clamor of the tractor. Eventually the noise faded away to a faint rumble, and Mac took the lead rope from Avery. “I hope all this hasn’t scared you. I mean, you ain’t leaving, are you?”

The question brought an immediate response, one she didn’t have to consider. “No.” Where would she go? She would have loved to ask Mac why he’d been so determined to hire someone to take care of Logan, when it was as obvious as the nose on his face that Logan was capable of looking after himself.

“Why don’t you take a breather? I’ll stay with Possum.” When she hesitated, he said, “Go on, get out of this heat. You might check with Logan and see if he needs you for anything else.”

Avery stopped just inside the barn door to let her eyes adjust to the darkened interior. She savored the coolness for a moment, then made a face as she caught a strong scent of disinfectant. As she moved past the line of empty stalls, the smell became sharper until it stung her nose and made her eyes water. She halted near the open doors of the two stalls where the horses had died, and saw Benton and Tom, outfitted with rubber boots and face masks, scrubbing the floors.

Just then she heard the deep tones of men’s voices coming from the direction of Logan’s barn office. Though she couldn’t make out the words, she could hear the anger. As she rushed around the corner on her way there to ask Logan if there was anything else she could do, she realized her mistake. Sound traveled oddly in the barn and she’d misjudged where the voices were coming from.

She blundered into a solid body and was thrown off balance. Her hat tumbled from her head. As she struggled to right herself, the man whipped around to catch her. In that awkward and embarrassing couple of seconds, as she tried to regain her footing and apologize, she spotted the silver, five-pointed star pinned to his shirt. The shock of seeing a policeman stopped her cold. When she was finally able to breathe, she strangled on her own air and disguised her fear and nervousness with a coughing fit.

The distraction afforded her time to recover her wits. Obviously the man with the badge was the sheriff Logan had mentioned earlier. But the distraction also cost her. Now she had the concerned solicitation of three men focused on her. Waving them away, she recovered and forced herself to smile. But like a guilty criminal, she couldn’t bring herself to hold the sheriff’s steadfast gaze. Instead, she stared at the other man standing beside Logan.

He had to be the brother she hadn’t yet met—Pierce. He had the family’s good looks, though he wasn’t as tall as Tanner, nor as muscular as Logan. His eyes were hazel instead of brown or black, and they lacked the compassion and passion of Logan’s, the fire and flirtation of Tanner’s. But his gaze held something that startled her. She recognized the look of someone living in his own personal hell. Her mirror reflected the same expression every morning before she was able to hide it.

Logan stepped into the growing silence. “Avery, this is Sheriff Middleton—Ross.” He grasped Avery’s elbow and half turned her. “And this is my brother Pierce. He’s the middle brother.”

“You’re the hired girl from Houston?” Ross asked, studying Avery intently.

Avery was relieved that he scooped up her hat and held it out to her. It gave her somewhere to look besides his eyes. Take the hat, Avery, before he thinks you’re brain damaged or that you’ve got something to hide. “Thank you,” she said softly as she held the straw cowboy hat in both hands, barely stopping herself from tearing it into tiny shreds. She stood perfectly still under the sheriff’s piercing green gaze.

“It’s a little hotter here then around the coast. Takes some getting use to. You don’t sound much like you’re from Houston. Where ’bouts in the city did you live?”

“Come on, Ross,” Logan grumbled good-naturedly, “you take your job too damn seriously. Avery has no earthly reason to kill off my stock. Instead of standing here shooting the bull with us and overworking your brain, you might take that sample you insisted on having to the lab.”

Ross laughed, then flipped a half-full specimen bottle in the air and neatly caught it. “You better have a closer look at those kids, Logan. I’ve warned you about taking juveniles in. My sister hated them here, you know.”

“Yes, Ross. She told me enough times and so did you. But I didn’t agree with Becky or you then, and I haven’t changed my mind. I’ll tell you this just once more. Despite all the trouble they’ve gotten up to, Ross, those four young men would never deliberately hurt an animal. Not even if they had a reason to hate me, which they don’t.”

“If you say so.” Ross touched the tip of his hat, looking at Avery. “You be careful, you hear?” He gave Logan and Pierce a kind of arrogant salute as he strolled away. Pierce called after Ross and followed him out of the barn.

Avery had observed the interchange and was confused by the mixed signals, wondering if it was a man thing and she’d just imagined it. But she had a strong feeling that Logan, and perhaps Pierce, didn’t have much use for Ross. And the sheriff was a puzzle. He didn’t seem much fazed by the urgency of the situation.

She suddenly had a headache and said the first thing that popped into her mind. “The gene pool isn’t too deep here in Haven, is it?” Logan stared at her. “Well, there’s no doubt that Jessie and Ross are related in more ways than one—as are you Monahans.”

Logan threw back his head and laughed. He must have needed such a release after all the tension and horror of the day. He caught sight of Tanner approaching. “Little brother thinks I’ve lost my mind, Avery. Maybe he’s right.” He shook his head.

“I saw Pierce before he left,” Tanner told him. “He said to tell you he was going to take a specimen to another lab in San Antonio rather than wait to hear what Ross has to say. He’s got a couple of calls to make before he can leave, but more than likely he’ll head out this evening. He also said to tell you he’ll call just as soon as he gets the results.”

Whatever Logan was about to say was cut off by the sharp sound of tires skidding on the gravel driveway and the repeated blast of a car horn.

Logan froze and was pitched back in time. He could clearly hear the scream of brakes, the sound of metal twisting around metal. He thought he could feel the vibration of the impact shimmying through his body. The knife-sharp pain of his memories seldom left him, and he’d often thought that his own death would have been preferable to living through what came next....

He felt Tanner touch his shoulder. Mercifully, the nightmare ended, and both men set off at a run for the barn door.

Avery still wondered at Logan’s reaction to the sound of the car. What hell had he relived? Could it have been his wife and son’s accident? She hurried from the barn herself, only to be pulled up short as a young black woman and what appeared to be her daughter rushed toward Logan. The child had something wrapped in a pink blanket cradled in her arms. She was crying so hard she could barely talk.

“Doc Logan,” the child finally managed to gulp as she held out the blanket. “Sugar’s hurt bad.”

The mother stepped forward. She wasn’t in much better shape than her daughter. “One of the neighbor’s dogs attacked Sugar when she and Annie were in the front yard.”

“Did the dog bite Annie, Rosemary?”

“No, thank heavens.”

Logan went down on his knees. He didn’t try to take the injured animal from the child’s arms, but gently folded the blanket back to reveal a small poodle, the white woolly fur stained with blood.

“I’m sorry, Logan, but Annie wouldn’t hear of taking Sugar to anyone else. She insisted we bring her here.”

Annie gave a hiccupping sob. “Jamie always said you were Dr. Dolittle—you talked to sick animals and made them feel better. Please make Sugar better, Doc Logan.” She hiccupped again. “Please.”

The mention of Jamie’s name twisted the knife of pain in Logan. As hard as he tried to cut himself off from all reminders of Jamie, his son’s friends weren’t going to allow him that little luxury.

“Annie,” he said, “Sugar and I need two very important things. First, you must be brave. Second, you have to let me hold Sugar.” He met the child’s gaze, swallowing visibly around the lump in his throat. “You and your mom can come to my office and wait while I examine her. But I can’t help her if I can’t see where she’s hurt, Annie.”

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