As an evil traitor threatens
to destroy the top-secret SPEAR agency,
A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY
continues….

Russell Devane aka Steve Trace

Strong and strapping—

a man who knows how to get the job done.

Masquerading as another man—and romancing the enemy’s daughter under false pretenses—were all in a day’s work. Until Russell tempted fate by falling for the fresh-faced goddess he was forbidden to claim!

Lise Meldrum

An Amazon beauty with a cloud of

luxurious auburn hair, rose-petal-soft skin…

and a secret yearning for love.

All her life, love-starved Lise had been searching for a man like “Steve” to make her feel feminine, desirable, cherished. But what would she do once she uncovered his shattering deception?

“Simon”

Scarred inside and out, this ruthless traitor

felt the tide turning in his favor…

until he discovered he’d been double-crossed.

When his daughter aligned herself with the enemy, Simon vowed there would be hell to pay. For he would stop at nothing to exact his revenge…including sacrificing one of his own!

Dear Reader,

You’ve loved Beverly Barton’s miniseries THE PROTECTORS since it started, so I know you’ll be thrilled to find another installment leading off this month. Navajo’s Woman features a to-swoon-for Native American hero, a heroine capable of standing up to this tough cop—and enough steam to heat your house. Enjoy!

A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY continues with bestselling author Linda Turner’s The Enemy’s Daughter. This story of subterfuge and irresistible passion—not to mention heart-stopping suspense—is set in the Australian outback, and I know you’ll want to go along for the ride. Ruth Langan completes her trilogy with Seducing Celeste, the last of THE SULLIVAN SISTERS. Don’t miss this emotional read. Then check out Karen Templeton’s Runaway Bridesmaid, a reunion romance with a heroine who’s got quite a secret. Elane Osborn’s Which Twin? offers a new twist on the popular twins plotline, while Linda Winstead Jones rounds out the month with Madigan’s Wife, a wonderful tale of an ex-couple who truly belong together.

As always, we’ve got six exciting romances to tempt you—and we’ll be back next month with six more. Enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

The Enemy’s Daughter
Linda Turner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

When my editor invited me to write The Enemy’s Daughter for A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY, I was thrilled. It turned out to be a book of firsts for me. I’ve always loved writing stories full of adventure, but I’d never done anything with spies or espionage or secret law-enforcement agencies—except work for the FBI after I graduated from college. But that’s another story.

And the fact that my particular book was set in Australia was an added plus. I’d never done a story set in another country, and I’ve always wanted to go to Australia, so this was perfect. I would have loved to have made a trip down under to see the Outback for myself, but I didn’t have the time, unfortunately. So I had to be content with reading about it, instead. One day, though, I will make it down there.

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed writing the book and collaborating with the other Silhouette authors and editors. It was a labor of love, and I hope you like the finished book as much as I do.

Sincerely,

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

For as far as the eye could see, the land was a vast, endless stretch of lonely plains that resembled the high desert of New Mexico. An occasional eucalyptus dotted the landscape with its thin, spindly branches, and small arid plants that needed little moisture in order to survive thrived under a hot sun that burned in a cloudless sky. And covering everything was a veil of choking red dust kicked up by a dry wind that blew steadily from the north.

Staring out at the haunting land that was the Australian outback, Russell Devane had, before he’d accepted this particular mission, thought he was a man who could take in stride whatever nature threw at him. After all, his job as an operative for the secret organization SPEAR had taken him to the farthest reaches of the globe. He’d withstood the bone-numbing cold of the Arctic and the blistering sands of the Sahara, all without complaint. But he could see already that nothing in his past had really prepared him for the vastness of the outback and its drastic temperature changes. It was the tail end of summer—fall was just days away—but the temperature had to be a hundred and twenty degrees in the shade. And it wasn’t even noon yet!

Just thinking about working in that kind of heat all day long made him sweat, but he grimly resolved to get used to it. He had to. In a few minutes, he would be arriving at the headquarters of the Pear Tree Cattle Station, where he would assume the identity of Steve Trace, the station’s newest cowboy and an associate of Art Meldrum, the owner of the place.

To the rest of the world, Art was an absentee landlord who left the running of the huge ranch in the hands of his daughter, Lise, most of the time. Only Russell—and his fellow SPEAR operatives—knew that Art was actually an alias for Simon, the traitor who’d spent the last eight months trying his damnedest to destroy not only Jonah, the head of SPEAR, but the agency itself. And he was slippery as an eel. Time and again, just when SPEAR operatives were sure they had him in their grasp, he’d managed to slip away.

Not this time, Russell promised himself, his gray eyes steely as he thought of how Simon had evaded capture just days ago on the Caribbean island of Cascadilla. The bastard had, in fact, never even put in an appearance on the island. Thanks to the real Steve Trace, a kidnapper and thug who’d been hired sight unseen by Simon, he’d been warned he was walking into a trap if he came to Cascadilla. So he’d run home to the outback, where he could lie low in the bush, and he’d never known that the real Steve Trace had died soon after he’d gotten word to him he was in danger.

SPEAR had made sure that no one knew of Trace’s death, making it easy for Russell to step right into his life. Pretending to be Trace, he’d used Trace’s cell phone and discovered through the phone’s address book that Simon was using the name Art Meldrum in Australia. He’d immediately called him and given him a sob story about needing a job. Not suspecting a thing, Simon had told him to come to the station, which was just what Russell had figured would happen. After all, Simon had narrowly escaped capture thanks to the quick thinking of Trace. The least he owed him was a job.

So here he was two days later, right in Simon’s own backyard, and so damn close to the bastard, he swore he could smell him. And Simon didn’t have a clue what kind of trouble was coming his way. Russell hoped he enjoyed his freedom because it was just about to come to an end.

The station headquarters came into view then, just a dot on the horizon that grew steadily larger with every passing mile. Long moments later, the mailman Russell had hitched a ride with just outside of Roo Springs pulled up before the main house in a swirl of dust. “Here you are, mate,” he said, frowning at the house. “The place looks deserted.”

Russell had to agree. Set in the middle of the barren plain without so much as a single tree to offer shade, the large, two-story frame house appeared empty. There were no cars in sight, and nothing moved but the dust stirred up by the wind.

Shooting him a frown, the mailman arched a dark brow at him. “You sure you’re expected? Lise usually sticks close to the house when company’s coming. She doesn’t get many visitors way out here in the bush.”

If anyone would know Lise’s schedule, Russell figured it would be the mailman. Roo Springs was the closest town to the station—if you could call a wide spot in the road with fifty inhabitants a town—and there was only one mailman to deliver the mail. There was probably little that went on within a two-hundred-mile radius that the older man didn’t know about.

“I didn’t know exactly when I would be arriving,” Russell replied, which was the truth. “I’ll just unload my stuff and wait on the front porch until she gets back.”

The postman, who was as thin and scrawny as the scraggly bushes planted in the dust in the yard, looked anything but convinced. “I don’t know, mate. It’s a warm day, and you being a Yank and all, you should be inside out of the heat. Let me see if I can raise somebody.” And with no more warning than that, he laid on the horn.

Wincing, Russell swore. Damn idiot! He’d hoped he’d have a chance to look around the place without being observed, but then again, he hadn’t expected to arrive with horns blaring like the leader of a damn parade, either! This was great. Just great!

Muttering under his breath, he started to tell the old man to lay off, but then his eyes fell on the corral next to the barn on the far side of the house. His heart stopped dead in his chest at the sight of a woman nearly under the hooves of what appeared to be a wild mustang rearing on its hind legs. Frightened by the horn, its eyes wide, the horse looked ready to stomp her into the ground.

Later, Russell never remembered moving. One second, he was all set to chew out the mailman and the next, he was out of the vehicle and charging across the compound at a dead run toward the corral.

If someone had asked him then what she looked like, he couldn’t have said. All he saw was a woman in trouble. Hopping the fence, he swept her up into his arms like she weighed no more than a feather and set her out of harm’s way on the other side of the corral fence.

Only then did he take a good look at her, and what he saw infuriated him. She was a big girl, five feet eleven if she was an inch, with a cloud of auburn hair that fell nearly to her waist and skin that was rose-petal soft under his hands. Tanned from working outside, her eyes as blue as the sky, she was trim and fit and had the kind of fresh-faced, subtle beauty that a lot of men often overlooked. Not Russell. In the stark barrenness of the outback, she was an unexpected treasure…that had almost been stomped into the ground by a horse that was no doubt as wild as a March hare.

Infuriated at the thought, he released her abruptly, but only to snap, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman? Trying to get yourself killed? Don’t you have any better sense than to step into a corral with a monster like that? You could have been killed!”

Her heart still pounding from the shock of being swept off her feet by a giant of a man who’d appeared out of nowhere, Lise could only stare at him like a starstruck teenager who’d lost her tongue. For most of her life, she’d been at least eye level with every man she met—it wasn’t often that she had to look up to one. But this one towered over her by at least five inches and had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. In a matter of seconds, he did something to her that no man had ever done before…he made her feel small and delicate. It was a heady feeling.

Then his words registered.

Outrage sparked in her eyes like a summer thunderstorm. The nerve of the man! This was her station, dammit, and if he thought she was going to stand there and let him yell at her like she was a two-year-old who didn’t have the sense to come in out of the rain, he could think again!

“Hold it right there, mister! I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but for your information, I had everything under control until you came charging in here like Indiana Jones!”

“The hell you did!”

“And Thunder’s not a monster! He was just startled. If you hadn’t blown your damn horn—”

“I didn’t! That was the mailman’s idea. But don’t go blaming him. He thought the place was deserted. If you hadn’t been in the corral in the first place, this never would have happened. Anyone with eyes can see that that horse is wild, and you’ve got no business going anywhere near him!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Lise considered herself an easygoing woman, but no man was going to tell her where she could and couldn’t go on her own station. Her blue eyes narrowing dangerously, she almost purred her words. “Oh, really? We’ll see about that!” And before he could stop her, she slipped through the wooden rails of the corral fence and approached the still spooked horse without an ounce of fear.

Behind her, she heard her rescuer swear and start to follow her into the corral, but she never took her eyes off the mustang. Still half wild, he could, if he chose, pound her into the dust if she made one wrong move. She didn’t. Talking to the animal soothingly, she sweet-talked him into letting her touch him, and before he knew what she was about, she had him bridled.

Triumphant, she turned to her visitor with an arch look. “You were saying?”

Russell couldn’t help but be impressed, and too late he realized he may have stepped over the line. This had to be Lise Meldrum, Simon’s daughter and the manager of the place. He’d planned to charm her into liking him so he could get on her good side and pump her for everything he could about her father, and here he was yelling at her, instead! Talk about a bonehead move. What the devil was wrong with him? He was good at what he did—he didn’t usually make those kind of mistakes. But then again, he didn’t usually come across a beautiful woman caught under the hooves of a frightened horse, either.

Which has nothing to do with anything, a voice in his head growled. Remember your mission.

Silently cursing himself for the reminder he shouldn’t have needed, he forced himself to relax and step into the cover of Steve Trace. For the rest of his stay in Australia, he would answer to nothing but Steve. And it would help him assume his new identity by convincing himself that his name was Steve—not Russell.

Giving her a teasing smile, he said wryly, “Did I say what I thought I just did? It must be the heat—it’s fried my brain. Can you forgive me? Obviously you know what you’re doing. Of course, I would have won Thunder’s trust with some sugar before I took a chance on stepping back into the corral when he was still so skittish, but I know women like to do things their own way. And that’s okay,” he said, grinning when steam practically poured from her ears. “You’re the boss.”

Stepping over to the corral fence, he extended his hand to her over the top rail, his gray eyes glinting devilishly. “You must be Lise. Your father told me you’d be running the place. I’m Steve Trace, your new cattle drover. Or at least, I am if you don’t can my hide for this stunt. You just scared the hell out of me, and I overreacted. Can you forgive me?”

Gritting her teeth, Lise looked him over, taking in his chiseled good looks, the long chestnut hair worn in a ponytail, the bold glint in his gray eyes and told herself she shouldn’t forgive him. She knew his kind. He was a charming flirt who’d been talking his way out of tight situations from the time he was a little boy and he’d first learned he could get his way with a woman by flashing a smile. He was trouble, and she had a feeling that if she let him stay, he was going to give her plenty of it.

Right then and there, she should have sent him packing. It would have been the smart thing to do, and her father wouldn’t have cared. She was in charge of running the station and had full authority to hire and fire. But she was, as usual, shorthanded. Life in the outback was harsh, and finding good men wasn’t easy. The work was hard, the pay minimal, the hours long. Cowboys had a tendency to drift with the wind, never staying anywhere very long. If you found a good one, you hung onto him with both hands.

And something told her the Yank would be a good one. Big and strapping, with the shoulders of an American football player and a strength that had stolen her breath, he appeared to have what it took to do the work and do it well. And she needed him, dammit. With the annual fall roundup just around the corner and only a handful of men to work tens of thousands of acres, she could use all the help she could get.

Left with no choice, she reluctantly gave his hand a firm, businesslike shake, but if he thought she was going to let him off that easy, he was in for a rude awakening. “Of course,” she retorted coolly. “As long as you understand that things are done my way around here, there shouldn’t be any problem, should there?”

Just that easily, she laid down the ground rules and dared him to question them.

Not the least intimidated, Steve only grinned. “Whatever you say, boss lady.”

“You just remember that, and we’ll get along fine, Yank. Grab your things. I’ll show you to the bunkhouse.”

The battle lines were drawn. Enjoying himself, Steve couldn’t help but be pleased. He liked a woman who stood up for herself, who had the confidence to hold her own with a man and challenge him at every turn. SPEAR had been able to give him very little information about Lise Meldrum other than that she managed the place because her father was gone a lot on what, to the rest of the world, appeared to be business trips. Other women might have handled the business end of the station from the comfort of an air-conditioned office and left the real work to her cowboys, but that didn’t appear to be Lise’s way. She wasn’t a hothouse flower, but a hands-on manager who apparently worked right alongside her men, and he liked that. This mission was going to be much more interesting than he’d expected.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Steve thanked the mailman, who’d watched the exchange between him and Lise with a wide grin of appreciation, then retrieved his duffel bag from the back seat of the mail car. He hadn’t brought much with him—he’d learned a long time ago that in his business, it paid to travel light. Sometimes you had to move fast. If you had to abandon a mission in the middle of the night, the last thing you wanted was baggage slowing you down.

“All set,” he told Lise as the mailman waved at Lise and drove off in a cloud of dust. “Lead the way, ma’am.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at that. “It’s Lise,” she corrected him. “Just Lise. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

He’d already figured as much, but he could see that pushing her buttons was going to be an enjoyable pastime he hadn’t expected. “Whatever you say, ma’am. Your father told me I’d get along fine here as long as I followed orders. Where is he, by the way? I’d like to thank him in person for the job.”

He glanced around casually, but inside, every nerve ending was standing at full alert. He’d been on the move nonstop for the last twenty-four hours in hopes of catching Simon unaware on his own turf. One phone call to Belinda, his contact at SPEAR, and he could have backup there in fifteen minutes or less.

Any hope of capturing the bastard that easily, however, died a swift death when Lise said just as casually, “You could if he was here, but he had to leave early this morning for a business meeting in London. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

Yeah, right, Steve thought cynically. Who the hell did she think she was fooling? She might appear to be as honest and straightforward as Mother Teresa, but only a fool bought into that act. And Steve was nobody’s fool. She was Simon’s daughter, for God’s sake, and probably the only person in the world he really trusted completely. Of course she knew when the bastard was coming back. She was just protecting him. Steve couldn’t allow himself to forget that she would, no doubt, continue to do that at all cost.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to thank him another time,” he said easily, and silently promised himself it wouldn’t be long.

They reached the bunkhouse, and she preceded him inside. Far from disappointed that things at the station weren’t quite as he’d expected, Steve glanced around his new home and decided that this wasn’t going to be so bad. Granted, there was little privacy, but he could find a way to work around that. Especially if it meant uncovering Simon’s dirty little secrets. This was the one place in the world where the traitor felt safe. With any luck, he kept records here not only of his illegal activities, but also of the network of contacts he used around the world to carry out his evil plans. If Steve could uncover that kind of information, SPEAR could not only finally capture Simon, but finally shut down his entire operation worldwide.

“It’s not the Ritz,” Lise said stiffly, “but I haven’t heard any of my men complaining. They have their own space, and they eat good. I make sure of that. The cook here is one of the best in the country.”

Realizing he was frowning in concentration and she’d taken that for disapproval of the accommodations, he blinked, and just that quickly flashed a grin at her. “Now you’re talking, boss lady. I think I’m going to like it here.”

She bristled at the title he’d labeled her with, and it was all he could do not to chuckle. He wasn’t teasing—he only had to look around to know that he really was going to like it there. As a kid, he hadn’t been able to wait until the day he could leave the dairy farm he’d grown up on in Wisconsin, but deep down inside, he’d been missing the place ever since. Lately, he’d been thinking maybe it was time to go back. He’d worked for SPEAR a long time, and the world of intrigue and adventure could be addictive, but there was a part of his soul that ached to get back to his roots, to a place where he could relax and get back to nature. For now, this just might be that place. Granted, he still had to be on guard, and the outback wasn’t Wisconsin, but there was something about the whisper of the wind across the dry, parched, endless land that called to him. It wasn’t home, but it felt like it.

He didn’t fool himself into thinking his mission—or the cover he’d adopted—would be easy. On a station the size of the Pear Tree, there was a lot of work to be done and never enough time in the day to do it all. The men put in a long day, and if Steve needed proof of just how hard the work was, he got it later that evening when the rest of the crew returned to the bunkhouse when their shift was over.

Straggling in, their faces baked as brown as the land by the hot, unforgiving desert sun, they were dirty and sweaty and sporting various cuts and bruises. They wanted a shower and food, in that order, and nothing was getting in their way. Taking time only to greet Steve and introduce themselves, they headed for the showers, then the dining hall.

Far from offended, Steve knew they would loosen up some after they had a chance to clean up and fill their bellies, and he was right. The long table in the dining hall of the bunkhouse had barely been cleared off before Nate, the oldest of the six cowboys, pulled out a deck of cards. Thin and wiry and weathered from years spent working in the elements, he had the kind of face that didn’t give away his age. With a thatch of gray at his temples and brown hair that was naturally thin, he could have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty.

His faded blue eyes twinkling with a challenge, he held the pack of cards to Steve. “You up to a game of poker, mate?”

Liking him immediately, Steve grinned. “Well, now, that depends. I’m not much of a gambler. How about you?”

He shrugged. “I lose more than I win, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Steve watched smothered grins spread through the rest of the cowboys and knew he was being set up. Not bothering to hide his grin, he’d expected as much. He was the odd man out and a Yank, to boot, and if he’d been in their shoes, he would have done the same thing. The way a man played poker said a hell of a lot about him.

Pulling out a chair across the table from the older man, he said, “I’m in. Name your stakes.”

Chairs scraped on the old wooden floor as the others quickly joined in, someone pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and the game was on.

It didn’t take long for his companions to figure out that Steve was no slouch when it came to cards—or for him to realize that they could hold their own with him when it came to bluffing. Especially Nate. He could be holding everything from a royal flush to nothing but a pair of deuces, but you’d never know it from the easygoing grin on his face.

And that made him a very dangerous man indeed, Steve acknowledged. When you couldn’t tell what someone was thinking, you didn’t dare turn your back on him. He knew that, accepted it and didn’t intend to forget it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t thoroughly enjoy pitting his wits against Nate and every other man there. From the way things were looking, first with the daughter, then Nate and the rest of the hands, this mission was going to be a hell of a lot more fun than he’d expected.

Losing his second hand in a row to the older man, Steve watched him rake in winnings that at the outset of the hand he’d been sure were his, and he could do nothing but swear good-naturedly. “You’ve got a hell of a way of losing there, mate. You ever let anyone else lose?”

“Not if I can help it.” He chuckled. “I kind of like it this way.”

“I can see why you would,” Steve drawled, amused. “Just don’t get too comfortable. Things are about to change.”

Far from perturbed, Nate only grinned. “I wouldn’t go spending my winnings just yet, if I were you. From where I’m sitting, you haven’t got any.”

“The night’s not over yet,” Steve retorted, his own grin wide. “Deal.”

With nothing more than that, the challenge was issued and the stakes were raised. Enjoying himself, Steve won the next two hands, then lost three. But he couldn’t complain. The game stayed friendly, and it gave him a chance to learn more about Lise and her elusive father.

Tossing his ante into the middle of the table for the next game, he said with studied casualness, “I guess things are pretty easy around here when the boss is away, huh? How long’s he going to be gone?”

In the process of taking a sip of his whiskey, Chuck, the youngest of the group, nearly choked. “What are you talking about? The old man doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what’s going on around here. He’s not here half the time. Lise is the one who keeps this place going.”

“And she does a damn good job of it,” Preston, the quiet one of the group, said proudly.

The others nodded in agreement, and there was no question that Lise was respected by all of them. “She’s a good boss,” Nate said. “I never worked for a better one.”

“No kidding?” Steve said. “This place must be half the size of Texas. You sure her boyfriend’s not helping her? That’s an awful lot of responsibility for a woman alone.”

Fishing for more information, Steve threw the bait out and didn’t have to wait long for a response. “Lise ain’t got no boyfriend,” Frankie, a big, balding hulk of a cowboy, said with a crooked grin. “Never has, as far as I remember.”

“Wait a minute,” Barney said. A short, husky man with a tattoo of a mermaid on his arm, he had a wicked grin and the very devil in his eyes. “Don’t go forgetting old man McEnnis. He was sweet on her there for a while.”

“Sweet, my eye,” Nate retorted. “The old geezer didn’t have any teeth! And he died the next week! That ain’t no boyfriend. That’s a nightmare!”

Everyone laughed at that, including Steve, even as he filed away the information for future use. So Lise didn’t have a man in her life, and from the sound of it, never had. That would make romancing her a hell of a lot easier, if that’s what he had to do to find out more information about her father.

In her father’s study in the main house, Lise sat at his oversize desk and was frowning at the ranch books when there was a knock at the study door. Glancing up, she smiled at the sight of Tuck standing on the threshold with his hat in his hand, looking for all the world like an overgrown kid being called on the carpet before the schoolmaster. He was a big man, nearly as tall as she, with a round face and an easygoing nature that made him a favorite with just about everyone. That didn’t, however, mean he was soft. Far from it, in fact. He could be tough as nails when he had to, and knew the cattle business inside and out. Which was why he was her right-hand man. She could always depend on him to tell it to her straight when it came to anything concerning the station.

Closing the station books, she sat back in her chair and motioned him inside. “Have a seat. Is that the list of supplies we need for the roundup?”

“Yeah. Sorry it’s so late. I meant to have it to you by this afternoon, but I couldn’t get Cookie to give me a list of the provisions he wanted to take. You know how he is. He never can make up his mind until the last minute.” Handing over the list to her, he took the seat across from her desk and sighed in relief as the cool air of the air-conditioning washed over him. “Damn, that feels good! The heat’s really been getting to me this year. I don’t know how I’m going to stand the roundup. It’s going to be hotter than hell out there in the bush.”

Making no attempt to hold back a grin, Lise had to laugh. For as long as she could remember, the fall roundup was held the same time every year. And every year, Tuck complained about the heat. Anyone listening to him would think he was a whiny baby who didn’t have a bit of stamina, but every year, he toughed it out with the best of them and weathered the heat just fine.

“You love it and you know it,” she teased. “What about the rest of the men? Are they all ready? How’s Frankie’s foot? He didn’t seem to be favoring it as much today as he has been.”

Just last week, Frankie’s horse had stepped on his foot and he’d been hobbling around ever since. “It’s better than it was,” Tuck replied, “but it’s still tender. It should be better by next week. Even if it’s not, we’ve got the Yank to pick up the slack, so we should do fine.”

Her pulse kicking into high gear just at the memory of how he’d made her feel, Lise frowned. “You think he’ll be able to handle the work?”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? He’s big as a house! And from what you told me about the way he hauled you out from under Thunder’s hooves, he’s not only strong, he keeps his head in an emergency. You must have thought so, too, or you wouldn’t have hired him.”

She couldn’t deny it. Like Tuck, she’d thought he was just what she needed in a cowboy. Now she wasn’t so sure. There was something about the man that disturbed her, and she couldn’t for the life of her say what it was. For now, though, she was reserving judgment on Steve Trace, though she had no intention of admitting that to Tuck.

“It’s not like we’ve got a flood of cowboys beating a path to our door in search of a job,” she said dryly. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Sometimes, you’ve got to take what you get till something better comes along. Not that he’s not going to work out,” she amended quickly. “At this point, it’s too soon to tell. But at least we’ve got another hand for the roundup, and right now, that’s our main concern.”

If he didn’t work out after that, she thought, she’d send him packing. They’d be shorthanded again, but somebody would come along eventually. They always did.

The next day started early. Long before daylight, the men were up and dressed and wolfing down bacon and eggs and homemade biscuits in the dining hall. Feeling like he was back home again in his mother’s kitchen, Steve bit into his first biscuit of the morning and groaned in appreciation. Lise hadn’t been kidding when she said she fed her cowboys well. His mother was an excellent cook, but even she never made biscuits like this. “Damn, this is great!”

Looking up from the four biscuits he was slathering with real butter, Frankie grinned. “If you think this is good, wait till the roundup starts. You’re not going to believe what Cookie can do on a campfire.”

In the process of taking another bite of his biscuit, Steve stiffened slightly. “What roundup?”

“The one that starts a week from Monday,” he retorted. “Didn’t Lise tell you about it yesterday when she hired you? The summers are so hot, we have a roundup every year at the beginning of fall to check out the cattle and watering holes. The whole crew goes.”

“Including Lise?”

He nodded. “Yep. We load the horses up in trailers, along with all the gear, and head out for a couple of weeks in the bush. It’s just like being in the Old West. It’s great!”

Steve didn’t doubt that it was. But he wasn’t ready to leave the compound yet, dammit. Certainly not for two or three weeks! He had to get inside the house and search it, and he couldn’t do that if he was miles away, traipsing around the bush playing cowboy.

There wasn’t, however, a hell of a lot he could do about it without blowing his cover. He’d come there pretending to be down and out and in need of the job Simon had promised him, and when the boss said you had to go out in the bush, you went without complaint. Damn. Now what was he supposed to do?

“Hey, that’s my biscuit!” Chuck bellowed when Barney snatched the last one in the pan right out from under his nose. “You’ve already had five, you pig! Gimme that!”

“Not on your life, junior. You just ate four, yourself. This one’s mine.”

Furious, the younger man looked ready to punch him, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was because Barney had stolen the last biscuit or because he’d called him junior. Either way, Steve knew an opportunity when he saw one. Grinning at the two men, he drawled, “Geez, fellas, they’re damn good biscuits, but you don’t have to fight over them. Here, Chuck, take mine.” Tossing him the last one on his plate, he rose to his feet and grabbed the empty biscuit pan. “I’ll get a hot one from the kitchen. Anybody else want one?”

When five hands went up, including Chuck and Barney’s, he had to laugh. “If Cookie can keep up with you guys, he must be some cook. I’ll be right back.”

Chuckling, he strode out, but his smile died the second the door to the dining hall closed behind him and he headed for the house thirty yards away. He was taking a chance, making a move when Lise and the cook were both there, but what other choice did he have? With the roundup starting in a matter of days, he was running out of time.

Another agent would, in all likelihood, have had a game plan in place before he even thought about stepping into the house, but Steve had never operated that way. He was a roll-with-the-punches, fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy, which was what made him a damn good agent. He didn’t act—he reacted—and nine times out of ten, his instincts were right on the money.

That didn’t mean the old ticker wasn’t pumping out the adrenaline as he approached the door. Every nerve ending was on alert, his muscles tense, though he liked to think he hid it well. His gait easy and relaxed, he opened the back door as if he had every right in the world to be there.

Not sure what to expect, he stepped inside and found himself in a small back hall. Stairs directly in front of him gave access to the upstairs, and to the right, a swinging door obviously led to the kitchen. Through the door, he could hear pots and pans rattling as Cookie sang to himself in an off-key baritone.

So he hadn’t heard him come in, he thought with a soundless sigh of relief. Now, where the hell was Lise?

Standing perfectly still, he cocked his head and thought he caught the faint strains of what sounded like the weather channel coming from a television upstairs. Pleased, he smiled slowly, his gray eyes glinting with satisfaction. So Cookie was tied up in the kitchen with the dishes, and Lise was upstairs. He couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried. He couldn’t do a search now, not when either one of them could walk in on him at any second, but at least he could discover the floor plan. Then if he had to search the place in the middle of the night, he wouldn’t run into a lamp or something and wake the household.

The question was, which way did he go first? Hesitating, he stared down the hall, then to his left, and wondered which led to the study. He knew there was one—last night when Tuck had returned to the bunkhouse and joined the poker game, he’d mentioned that he’d been talking to Lise in the study. It was there, no doubt, that Simon had concealed records of his illegal activities.

Five minutes, Steve thought grimly. He didn’t care how well the bastard had hid them, give him five minutes and he felt sure he could find them.

Tossing a mental coin, he decided to explore through the door to the left, but before he could make a single move, he heard a noise at the top of the stairs. Freezing, all senses on alert, he glanced up, ready to explain that he was there for biscuits and didn’t know where the kitchen was. But the words never left his mouth. He took one look at Lise in her nightgown and robe, her waist-length auburn hair flowing past her shoulders, and his mind went completely blank.

Chapter 2

She had no right to look so captivating so early in the morning, he thought with a frown. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d been expecting him and had set out to knock the air out of his lungs. The gown and robe she wore covered her body like a sack and were hardly flattering. But still, he was somehow seduced. It was her hair, he told himself. A woman with hair like that could tempt the devil himself. And Lord knew, he was no saint. All too easily, he could picture her naked in his bed, her fiery locks spread out, giving him tempting views of her body as she smiled and held out her arms to him.

Then his gaze lifted to her face, and he realized it was a hell of a lot more than her hair that attracted him. She had an innocence about her, a total lack of awareness of her own beauty that he found incredibly appealing. With no effort whatsoever, she reached out and grabbed his attention just by breathing, and she didn’t even seem to know it.

But he did, and alarm bells were going off all over the place in his head. Watch it, a voice cautioned in his ear. Remember who the lady is and why you’re here. You may have to seduce her before it’s all said and done. If you don’t keep your head about you, you may end up losing it. This is Simon’s daughter, for God’s sake!

It took nothing more than that to pull him up short. Silently cursing himself for momentarily losing sight of his mission, he jerked himself to his surroundings—and his very precarious position. If she’d come down five seconds later, she’d have caught him boldly exploring the house.

He watched surprise widen her eyes, then suspicion, and didn’t give her time to wonder any longer just what the devil he was doing in her back hall. Turning on the charm to distract her, he grinned at her. “Well, if it isn’t my lucky day. Good morning, boss lady. Were you looking for me? All you had to do was whistle, and I’d have come running.”

Stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of him, Lise felt the physical stroke of his eyes and couldn’t, for the life of her, understand how he made her so breathless with just a look. Growing up around cowboys, she’d seen his kind all her life. She knew better than to take anything he said seriously.

Not, she reminded herself, that she had any personal experience with flirtatious cowboys. The ones she knew had never even noticed she was a woman, and that had always been fine with her. She knew bull when she heard it, and she’d always wondered how the women in town and at parties could fall for one load of manure after another.

Now she knew.

Caught in the trap of his boyish grin, her heart was fluttering like a schoolgirl’s, and that irritated her no end. Her delicately arched brows snapping together in a scowl, she growled, “Stuff it, Trace. What are you doing in my house?”

Not appearing the least bit offended, he held up the empty biscuit pan he’d brought with him from the bunkhouse and winked at her. “The boys want more biscuits. I’d rather have you.”

She should have laughed at his outrageousness and put him in his place—it would have been no more than he deserved. But there was something about the glint in his eye that made her all too conscious of the fact that she stood before him in nothing but her nightgown and robe. Her mouth suddenly as dry as the outback itself, all she could manage was a nod toward the door on his right. “The kitchen’s through there,” she said hoarsely. “Excuse me. I need to get dressed.”

Turning, she fled up the stairs, leaving Steve staring after her in a way that may have flattered her immensely if she’d only turned around and looked. She didn’t.

“Did I hear somebody say something about biscuits?”

Jerking his gaze from the top of the empty stairs, Steve turned to find a short, rail-thin Aboriginal watching him with small black eyes that missed little. Obviously, the man had seen Steve gazing after Lise like he’d never seen a female in her nightclothes before.

His smile rueful, Steve made no apologies for his behavior. “There’s something about a woman who can put me in my place that really turns me on,” he said honestly. Holding out his hand, he grinned. “Hi. I’m Steve Trace. You must be Cookie. Do you think you could give my mama your recipe for biscuits? I’ve never eaten anything like them in my life.”

He spoke nothing less than the truth, though he would have said the same thing if the biscuits had been as hard as rocks. In order to do his job, he needed to gain the confidence of everyone who could help him discover more information about Simon, and Cookie was right at the top of the list. A trusted servant who had his own room inside the house, he, unlike the cowboys, was in a position to know everything that was going on with Simon and his daughter.

He wasn’t, however, a pushover. If he was flattered by Steve’s compliment, he didn’t show it. He shook his hand, but only briefly. “I don’t give out my recipes,” he said curtly. “Come in the kitchen. I just took another pan of biscuits out of the oven.”

Not waiting to see if he followed, the other man pushed through the swinging door, leaving Steve silently swearing behind him. His last chance to look around now gone, he was left with no choice but to step into the kitchen.

Standing in front of the mirror, Lise adjusted the collar of her cotton blouse for the third time in thirty seconds, only to realize that she, Lise Meldrum, was primping! “Oh, God!” she whispered. Horrified, she swore and quickly dropped her hand, leaving her collar just the way it was.

“Quit being a ninny,” she scolded her image in the mirror. “The man’s playing with you and you’re falling for it. Look at yourself, for heaven’s sake! You’ve got lip gloss on!”

Wincing, she couldn’t deny it. She’d definitely taken pains with her appearance, but not because she was trying to look pretty for Steve Trace, she assured herself. She was going into town later for supplies for the roundup, that was all, and she didn’t want to look like a hoyden. What was wrong with that? It wasn’t as if she was dressing for Steve. She had work to do in the study that would keep her busy all morning, and the trip to town and back would take all afternoon. If she was lucky, she’d be able to avoid him not only for the rest of the day, but from now until they left for the roundup. After all, organizing a roundup took a lot of work, and even though she’d been doing it for years, it didn’t get any easier. Between now and the morning when horses and men were loaded into trucks to begin the trek across the bush to the wildest regions of the station, she’d work every night until midnight and be up at dawn. She had too much to do to waste a single second between now and then thinking about Steve.

Her chin set at a determined angle, she turned from the mirror, and hurried downstairs to the study. She had letters and e-mail to answer from charities and youth organizations she contributed to every year in her father’s name and that took all of her attentions. By the time she finished, it was noon and time to leave for town. Quickly dialing the bunkhouse she wasn’t surprised when Tuck answered. They spoke every day, rain or shine, about what needed to be done that day, and she didn’t know how she would have run the place without his help.

“I’m leaving for Roo Springs in five minutes,” she told him. “Send one of the boys over to go with me. I’ll need help loading everything.”

“Sure thing,” he said easily. “Oh, and don’t forget to add metal fence posts to the list,” he reminded her before she could hang up. “After that storm we had last winter, we’re bound to need them.”

“I forgot about that,” she said, quickly jotting a note at the end of the extensive list of supplies she had to buy. “At the rate we’re going, I may have to make two trips to town and back just to haul everything.”

“Take the diesel,” he suggested. “It holds more.”

“Good idea. As soon as I gas it up, I’ll be ready to go.”

Her mind on everything she had to do, she checked one last time with Cookie to make sure she had his final list, then grabbed the keys to the diesel truck from a hook by the back door. The second she stepped outside the blistering heat of the day hit her in the face.

And she loved it. She always had. She’d been born and raised there, and the heat and wind and grit was as much a part of her as the color of her eyes. Given the chance, she would have parked herself in the porch swing and relaxed just by watching the wind blow. As usual, however, she didn’t have the time. Tomorrow, she promised herself, and climbed into the truck to drive it over to the gas tank behind the barn.

She had a little over a quarter of a tank of gas, but it was over a hundred miles to town, and there was no place between there and home to buy anything. She had a cell phone, of course, if she got into trouble, but she could just hear Nate and Tuck and the rest of the boys, as she liked to call them, if she ran out of gas on the way to town. They’d never let her hear the end of it.

“I must be living right. Is that smile for me, boss lady?”

Caught up in her reflections, Lise jerked her attention to her surroundings to find Steve leaning against the pickup bed on the opposite side of the truck. Watching her pump gas, he had that little grin on his face that she swore he wore just to irritate the hell out of her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

But even as she asked, she knew. He was the most expendable cowboy she had, the one who didn’t know his way around the ranch yet and hadn’t a clue how things were done in the bush. And no one had time to teach him. Which was why he was the perfect one to go with her to town. He was big and strong and could load the truck without breaking a sweat—and he could be gone for hours and would never be missed.

“And here I thought you’d be thrilled we were going to spend the day together,” he replied teasingly, flashing his dimples at her. “Now I’m hurt.”

A quick retort sprang to her tongue, but she bit it back, refusing to give him the satisfaction. No, she told herself grimly. She wasn’t going to let him push her buttons so easily. So she ground her teeth on the sassy words and said instead, “I don’t have time for your jocularity. Get in the truck, Trace. It’s time to go.”

“Whatever you say,” he said with an easy grin. “You’re the boss.”

It was, Lise decided, going to be a long day.

It wasn’t, however, until she slid behind the wheel and joined him in the cab of the truck that she realized just what she’d been set up for. The diesel wasn’t one of those little midget trucks that was only big enough for two small people. It was big and roomy and had a cab that could, if necessary, hold up to four regular-size adults.

The problem was, Steve wasn’t a regular-size adult.

Lise knew she was no slouch when it came to size, but Steve made her feel like one of those small, delicate women who couldn’t open a door without using both hands. Lord, he was big! Her heart thumping in her chest, she would have given anything not to notice, but he made that impossible. Seated on his side by the window, with nearly three feet of space between them, he seemed to fill the cab of the truck.

And it wasn’t fair, dammit! she thought as she drove out of the compound and forced herself to stare straight ahead at the road. Without sparing him a single glance, she was aware of everything about him. The irritating man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He was just big. He shifted on the seat, stretching out his long legs, and she could practically feel the muscles in his thighs ripple.

Swearing silently under her breath, she tightened her fingers on the wheel and sternly ordered herself to ignore him. She might as well have told herself not to breathe. He was a man who was at ease in his own skin and comfortable with who he was. Slouching in his seat, he looked like a big, lazy jungle cat lounging in the sun. She wasn’t, however, fooled by the deceptive pose. She knew better than most how fast the man could move when the situation called for it. With no effort whatsoever, she could still feel the strength of his arms as they’d closed around her when he’d swept her out from under Thunder’s hooves yesterday.

Her heart lurching at the memory, she reached over and turned the air conditioner from low to high.

Arching a brow at her, Steve grinned. “Hot?”

A blush climbed high in her cheeks. She trained her eyes straight ahead. “It’s a little stuffy in here. The truck was sitting in the sun and hasn’t cooled off yet.”

His grin broadening, he murmured, “I see.”

Afraid he did see all too clearly, she pressed her lips together tightly. If he thought she was going to trade cryptic comments with him all the way to Roo Springs, he could think again.

Silence didn’t bother her. She could drive the entire way without saying another word.

It was a good plan, but she quickly discovered that Steve wasn’t the least perturbed by her lack of encouragement. Content to carry on the conversation by himself, he settled back in his seat with a contented sigh and said, “You know something? I think I’m going to like it here. It reminds me of Wisconsin.”

She’d sworn she wasn’t going to respond, no matter what he said. And she wouldn’t have—if his statement hadn’t been so outrageous. Jerking her gaze from the road, she looked at him incredulously. “I’ll be the first to admit that my American geography isn’t the best, but isn’t Wisconsin up north? By Canada?”

His dimples winking at her, he nodded sagely. “Yep. I grew up there.”

“And Wisconsin looks like this?”

When she glanced pointedly at the desert landscape that stretched as far as the eye could see, he had to laugh. “Not exactly. We’ve got a lot more trees and it’s a hell of a lot cooler. But we’ve also got cows. My parents own a dairy farm there, and I was milking cows almost before I was old enough to walk. I bet you were, too.”

She couldn’t deny it. “We only had a few we kept for milk, though.”

He laughed as he told her about his childhood. “God, it was cold in the winter! The snow would pile up higher than the house, and sometimes it didn’t melt again until spring. But my brothers and I had a great time growing up. As soon as we finished our chores after school, we’d go ice fishing or play hockey on an outdoor rink my dad built for us.”

Lise was captivated by how Steve’s face was alight with memories, his gray eyes sparkling, as he told her about good times and bad, including when the winter storms were so bad that they lost half their cows to the cold. But then there were the summers when there were fireflies to catch and camp outs in the woods and the nights he and his brothers laid out in the grass and oohed and aahed over meteor showers high in the heavens above.

And in spite of all her best intentions, Lise found herself smiling and remembering in turn. Oh, she had never seen snow, and even in their worst winter, they’d never lost a single cow to the cold. It was the summers that were bad in the outback, the summers that could kill. She’d only been a child, but she could still recall vividly the summer that was so dry the watering holes dried up. Dozens of cows died of thirst before the ranch hands could get water to them.

She doubted that Steve had any experience with a drought or could understand why a summer rain usually meant a party, but still, they were kindred souls. As children, they’d both listened to the lonely lullaby of a cow lowing. And if he was anything like her, when twilight fell and the dew turned the air cooler, he would think there was no sweeter smell on earth than the fresh earthy scent of the land.

“I can remember frying eggs on the patio out back and going swimming at nine o’clock at night,” she said quietly, her eyes trained on the road and the past at the same time. “I went on a walkabout once with Cookie—or at least I thought it was a real walkabout—but I was just six and we were only gone for four hours. But he taught me all about life in the bush, the dangers and the magic of it, and I loved it.”

“He’s been here that long?”

She nodded. “Since before I was born.”

“And what did your mother say about him taking you off for four hours? Was she worried?”

“She died in a riding accident when I was five,” she said simply. “I don’t remember that time period very well, but I think that’s why Cookie took me on the walkabout. I was lonely here all by myself except for my nanny, and he felt sorry for me.”

Steve had read what little information SPEAR had on her; he’d known her mother had died some time ago. But he’d had no idea she’d died when Lise was so young. The poor kid.

Instantly sympathetic, he frowned. “What about your father? Surely he didn’t leave you here with the nanny and cook when you’d just lost your mother. You weren’t much more than a baby!”

The very idea outraged him, but she only smiled ruefully. “And he had just lost the only woman he ever loved. He adored her. Maybe if I’d taken after her more, he would have stayed, but even at five, it was obvious that I wasn’t going to be small and petite the way my mother was. He had business interests that called him away, and to be perfectly honest, I think he jumped at the chance to go. He was never happy here after Mama died. That’s why he still never stays very long. He misses her too much.”

If they’d been talking about an ordinary man, Steve might have believed that. His own father would be devastated if his mother died first. But Art Meldrum was no ordinary man. He was Simon, a traitor without an ounce of conscience who was out to destroy Jonah—the man at the helm of SPEAR—any way he could, and bring down the entire secret organization. A man like that was incapable of love. He was a monster without a heart, and although Lise had, no doubt, had an incredibly lonely childhood, she’d been blessed every time the bastard had found an excuse to leave the station.

That wasn’t, however, something she was ready to hear. So he said instead, “Then he should have taken you with him. You were just a little girl, and you’d already lost one parent. You shouldn’t have lost the other one, too.”

Suddenly focusing on something else she’d said, he scowled. “And what the hell do you mean, your father would have stayed if you’d been small and petite? There’s nothing wrong with you the way you are!”

She was, in fact, damn well just the right size, as far as he could see. He’d never understood why anyone would look twice at a woman who was little more than skin and bones. Give him a real woman to fill his arms, not one he constantly had to worry about crushing.

“I never said there was,” she said stiffly. Annoyed, she gave him frown for frown and wanted to kick herself for confiding in him. Her relationship with her father was no one’s business but her own, and she didn’t normally discuss it with anyone. But then again, she’d never met anyone who was quite so easy to talk to. He made her forget that he was not only an employee, but little more than a stranger. She’d have to watch that in the future.

“Anyway, when did this conversation become about me?” she demanded irritably. “We were talking about you. So what brought you to Australia besides a job? I would have thought cowboy jobs were a dime a dozen in the States, so it had to be something else besides that.”

Steve didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash. Giving her a slow, intimate smile, he replied, “That’s easy, darlin’. I’d always heard the women Down Under were something to see, so I thought I’d check them out for myself. So far, I’m not disappointed.”

Rolling her eyes, Lise sternly ordered herself not to be flattered. He’d only been in the country two days, and as far as she knew, he’d spent that time hitchhiking to the station. Which meant, in all likelihood, that she was probably the only woman he’d met so far. So much for compliments. It was easy to look good when you were the only female in sight.

“Then I guess that makes this my red-letter day, Yank,” she retorted mockingly. “I’ll be sure to mark it on my calendar for prosperity.”

Far from offended, he just laughed, and that only irritated Lise all over again. There was nothing so frustrating as a man who refused to be insulted. Damn the man, why did he have to be so likable? Couldn’t he tell she wanted nothing to do with him?

Yeah, right, a sarcastic voice drawled in her head. When was he supposed to realize that? Before or after you told him your life story?

Clamping her teeth on an oath, she swore she wasn’t going to say another word the rest of the way to town, and she was acutely aware that Steve seemed to enjoy watching her struggle to keep that promise to herself. Openly studying her, he made no attempt to hide his grin when a kangaroo bounced across the road a hundred yards in front of them and she had to press her lips tightly together to keep from making a comment.

Damn, she was something! he thought in growing admiration. Strong and sassy and spunky. He liked that in a woman. She stood up for herself and didn’t take garbage from a man. She had no idea how that appealed to him. Delighted, he almost told her this wasn’t the way to discourage him, but where was the fun in that? Settling back to enjoy himself, he let the silence stretch between them and wondered how long it would be before she broke it.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The wind suddenly picked up speed, and in the time it took to blink, they found themselves driving through the middle of a small dust storm. Swearing, Lise immediately lifted her foot from the accelerator, turned on her lights and slowed to a crawl. “I hope another roo doesn’t jump out in front of us,” she muttered, peering through the dust that surrounded them like fog. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

“I guess you have a lot of dust storms out here,” he said casually, his eyes dancing with amusement as he glanced at his watch to see how long it took her to realize she’d broken her silence. “There’s nothing to block the wind.”

“It’s something you learn to live with,” she retorted. “When I was a kid, we got hit with a bad one one year when we were on roundup. It was awful. We ate dust for three days afterward.”

“You were out in the bush when it hit? What’d you do?”

“There’s nothing you can do but keep your head down and your face covered and try to get to shelter. The trick is not to get turned around in the storm. Sometimes it’s better to just hunker down and wait it out right where you are.”

“Sounds like a blizzard, only in reverse. I bet that blowing sand can hurt like hell.”

“It feels like you’ve been rubbed raw with a piece of sandpaper,” she replied, grimacing. “It gets between your teeth and in places you don’t want to th—” Apparently realizing just how personal the conversation had grown again, she snapped her teeth shut.

Glancing at his watch, Steve chuckled. Three minutes. And Roo Springs was still eighty miles away. If she kept not talking to him at this rate, he’d know everything there was to know about the lady by the time they reached town.

Roo Springs might have been classified a town by outback standards, but it was really little more than a wide spot in the road collecting dust. There were no springs, no pond, not even a water tower to justify the place’s name. There was a grocery store, a hardware and station supply store, as well as a vet who worked out of his home. A small bank and post office shared the only brick building in town, and a gas station and restaurant made up the rest of the business district, if you could call it that. With a dozen or more houses huddled in the dirt, it looked hot, weather-beaten and miserable.

Steve hadn’t seen much to recommend the place when he’d hitchhiked through there on his way to the Pear Tree Station, and a second visit did little to change his mind. If there’d just been something besides a few dusty gum trees to add a little more color, he might have found it more appealing, but there was nothing. No greenery, no flowers, no color. Baking in the late morning sun, the entire town was nothing but a dull reddish-brown blob.

In spite of that, however, it was a booming little metropolis, and it was easy to see why. Gas stations were few and far between in that region of the outback, and cars and pickups were lined up halfway down the street, waiting for their chance to fill up. And those who didn’t need gas were stocking up on groceries and ranch and household supplies.

When just about everyone they passed recognized Lise and threw up a hand in greeting as she drove past, Steve was surprised. She was over a hundred miles from home! But when he thought about it, he realized it only made sense. When you lived out in the middle of nowhere, you had to go where the stores were for supplies. Lise had probably been coming to town with Cookie for groceries since she was a little girl—and so had the rest of her neighbors.

“Looks like you’re pretty popular around here,” he told her as he opened the door to the station supply store for her. Following her inside, he arched a brow at the sight of the man across the store from them. “Who’s the tall skinny dude at the counter? He’s so happy to see you, he looks like he could kiss you.”

Apparently surprised that he’d opened the door for her, she glanced up and nearly burst out laughing when she saw who he was talking about. “Fred kiss me? I don’t think so! He’s just happy to see me because he knows I’m going to spend a lot of money in here.”

Far from amused, he frowned. “Don’t sell yourself short. Why wouldn’t he want to kiss you? Is he married?” When she shook her head, he growled, “Then what’s his problem? You’re a damn attractive woman. Is he blind or what?”

He made no effort to keep his voice down, and he didn’t care if everyone in the store heard him.

Color stinging her cheeks, she looked as if she wanted to sink right through the floor. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “Around here, I’m just one of the guys.”

Steve could already see that for himself. And he didn’t like it one little bit. As Lise walked up and down the aisles collecting the supplies she would need for the roundup, none of the men who greeted her even tipped their hats at her or showed her the least courtesy. When he’d opened the door for her, at least two more men could have done the same thing before he caught up with her, but they let it slam shut behind them without even offering to hold it partially open for her. Steve had never seen anything like it in his life. What the hell was wrong with Australian men?

Irritation glinting in his gray eyes, he almost asked her, but he never got the chance. Their cart filled with the smaller items on her list, they stopped in the fencing department to see about getting metal fence posts and wiring brought to the loading dock so they could transfer it to the truck. Before they could find a clerk, however, they found their path blocked by a group of cowboys telling jokes.

Greeting Lise with a broad smile, a lean, bronzed man who looked as tough as boot leather said, “Hey, Lise, did you hear the one about the chicken farmer and the sex education teacher? The teacher had this thing about feathers….”

Encouraged by wide, expectant grins and masculine chuckles, he began to tell a joke that should have never made its way outside a locker room. Outraged, Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Was the jackass raised in a barn, or what?

Not caring that he was sticking his nose where some people might think it didn’t belong, he growled, “Hey, buddy, watch your mouth. There’s a lady present.”

That should have been enough to shut the other man up. Instead, he looked around and said, “Where?”

The loser wasn’t joking, Steve thought incredulously. The man didn’t even look at Lise, but instead glanced around to see if another woman had walked up while he wasn’t looking.

Infuriated, Steve wanted to tear him apart. “What do you mean, where?” he thundered. “I was talking about Lise, you bastard!”

To his credit, the other man suddenly realized what he’d said and had the grace to cringe with embarrassment. “Oh, God, Lise, I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking of—”

“It’s okay, Gene,” she said huskily, quickly stepping in front of Steve before he could deck him. “No offense intended, none taken. Excuse us, will you? This is my new drover—Steve Trace. We need to talk outside. Now, Steve!”

She didn’t give him time to argue, but simply grabbed his arm and dragged him to the front of the store to pay for the supplies they’d collected. The second she finished paying, she hustled him outside and whirled on him, her blue eyes sparking fire. “What the hell was that all about?”

“That’s what I’d like to know! You should have let me pop that jackass. He deserved it.”

“That jackass,” she said through her teeth, “happens to be a very good friend of mine.”

“Some friend!” he retorted. “Does he always insult you that way?”

“He wasn’t insulting me!”

“No? Then what would you call it?”

He looked so indignant that Lise couldn’t help but be touched. But he couldn’t go around hitting people just because they didn’t treat her the way he thought they should treat a woman. “Look,” she sighed, “I appreciate the Sir Galahad routine, but you really don’t have to protect my tender sensibilities. Gene wasn’t being intentionally rude. He just doesn’t think of me as a woman. And neither do the rest of the guys. And that’s okay. It’s more important that they treat me as an equal.”

“They can treat you as both while I’m around,” he snapped, “or they’re going to find themselves picking themselves up off the floor. Now that we’ve got that settled, why don’t you bring the truck around to the loading dock so I can load this stuff and we can get out of here?”

Rolling her eyes, Lise could see that there was no arguing with the man. “Fine. Just try not to get in trouble while I’m gone, okay? I’d have to bail you out, and that wouldn’t make me very happy, and you don’t want to see me when I’m not happy.”

Grinning, he said, “I’ll be an angel. I promise.”

When Lise snorted at that, he winked at her and just that easily made her heart thump crazily in her breast. Angel, my eye, she thought, irritated with herself as she turned and fled for the truck. The man was a handsome devil and too good-looking for his own good. If he thought he was going to take her in with just a wink and a boyish grin, he could think again. She wasn’t that stupid.

Satisfied she had her emotions under strict control, Lise drove the truck around to the loading dock and backed into place. Before she’d even turned off the motor, Steve had pulled on the work gloves he’d brought with him and started loading the fence posts and barbed wire into the back of the truck.

“Here, let me help you,” she said as she quickly joined him. “You can’t do that all by yourself.”

“No.”

She was already reaching for some of the fence posts. She had hardly picked two of them up before he took them away from her. “Hey, give me those! What are you doing?”

“Loading the truck,” he retorted. “That’s why you brought me along, remember? So why don’t you grab a seat in the shade and let me do my job?”

Lise couldn’t believe he was serious. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can help.”

“Maybe so, but you’re not going to. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

His jaw set at an angle she was just beginning to realize was as immovable as Gibraltar, he gave her a hard look and just dared her to argue with him further. She told herself he was kidding, but there was no glint of laughter in his steely gray eyes, no smile on his mouth. Obviously not caring that they might be drawing the eye of everyone on the store’s huge loading dock, he glared at her, silently daring her to pick up so much as a box of nails from the supplies still waiting to be loaded.

Standing toe to toe with him, she should have told him she was the boss and could load any damn thing she wanted. It would have been the wise thing to do. After all, who was supposed to be giving whom orders? But the darn man didn’t play fair. He’d done it again, made her feel like a dainty, feminine woman, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Without a word, she found a seat on a nearby wooden crate to watch him work.

That’s when alarm bells clanged in her head. What was she doing? she wondered wildly. Just because the man had opened a few doors for her and wanted to wrap her in cotton like a china doll didn’t mean he was interested in her. No one had ever looked twice at her before, and she didn’t expect that to change just because this cowboy had walked into her life. He might have told her stories about his childhood, but what did she really know about the man himself? Nothing. For all she knew, he was just a charming drifter who never stayed anywhere long and left a string of broken hearts behind him. He wouldn’t break hers, she promised herself. She wouldn’t make an idiot of herself over him and have every cowboy within a hundred miles laughing at her.

That didn’t mean, however, that she couldn’t enjoy watching him work. With an ease that stole her breath, he picked up a heavy role of wire as if it weighed no more than a matchbox and tossed it into the bed of the truck. Muscles rippled in his arms. His back strong and straight, his broad shoulders handling the task with no effort whatsoever, he didn’t even break a sweat. Fascinated, Lise had to admit that he really was something to see.

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