“Maybe we should set a few other ground rules if we’re to be friends,” Amy said.

David grinned at her. “Ones we can keep like the first rule or ones we can’t?”

“No more kisses. I mean it,” she sputtered. “It’s just chemistry. Hormones. Pheromones.”

“All of the above. But how does that stop me from wanting to haul you into my arms right now?”

“If we’re able to ignore it, the temptation will eventually fade.”

That raised his eyebrows. “If you believe that, I don’t know how you ever got to be a psychologist.”

“I can do anything I make up my mind to do,” Amy said coolly.

She’d just laid down a challenge. David smiled. He hadn’t felt like taking up any challenges for over a year, but he sure as hell meant to run with this one.

Dear Reader,

April may bring showers, but it also brings in a fabulous new batch of books from Silhouette Special Edition! This month treat yourself to the beginning of a brand-new exciting royal continuity, CROWN AND GLORY. We get the regal ball rolling with Laurie Paige’s delightful tale The Princess Is Pregnant! This romance is fair to bursting with passion and other temptations.

I’m pleased to offer The Groom’s Stand-In by Gina Wilkins—a fascinating story that is sure to keep readers on the edge of their seats…and warm their hearts in the process. Peggy Webb is no stranger herself to heartwarming romance with the next installment of her miniseries THE WESTMORELAND DIARIES. In Force of Nature, a beautiful photojournalist encounters a primitive man in the wilderness and must find a way to tame his oh-so-wild heart.

In The Man in Charge, Judith Lyons gives us a tender reunion romance where an endangered chancellor’s daughter finds herself being guarded by the man she’s never been able to forget—a rugged mercenary who’s about to learn he’s the father of their child! And in Wendy Warren’s new sensation Dakota Bride, readers will relish the theme of learning to love again, as a young widow dreams of love and marriage with a handsome stranger. In addition, you’ll find an intriguing case of mistaken identity in Jane Toombs’s Trouble in Tourmaline, where a world-weary lawyer takes a breather from his fast-paced life and finds his sights brightened by a lovely psychologist, who takes him for a gardener. You won’t want to put this story down!

So kick back and enjoy the fantasy of falling in love, and be sure to return next month for another winning selection of emotionally satisfying and uplifting stories of love, life and family!

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Trouble in Tourmaline
Jane Toombs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To:

My son-in-law Steve, the lawyer My grand-nephew Dale, the psychologist My friend Denny, the psychiatrist My five-year-old violinist granddaughter, Kate

JANE TOOMBS

lives most of the year on the shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula along with a man from her past and their crazy calico cat, Kinko. In the winter, though, they all defect to Florida for three months. In addition to writing, Jane enjoys knitting and gardening.

Contents

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

D avid Severin parked the Tourmaline Nursery truck he’d borrowed in front of his aunt Gert’s old Victorian home/office and began unloading lilac and forsythia shrubs. Late May being warm in the high desert of northern Nevada, he shed his T-shirt, wishing he’d put on shorts rather than jeans. He knew very well his psychiatrist aunt’s insistence that he do a complete revamp of her landscaping was no more than a psychological ploy to get him out sweating in the fresh air, but what the hell, at least she wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze him. Actually, he was enjoying the work as much as he’d enjoyed anything in the past year, so maybe she knew what she was doing.

Yesterday he’d dug up an old hedge and hauled the scraggly looking shrubs away. Now he needed to dump some topsoil in the deep trench he’d had to dig and then put in these new ones. After he finished with the topsoil, David noticed a fine layer of dirt clinging to his sweaty torso, so he strode over to the hose and sprayed himself clean. He was shutting the water off when a woman’s voice said, “Excuse me.”

Turning, he saw a stunning blonde in a pale blue suit that skimmed all the right places. She gazed at him with eyes as green as the forsythia leaves, asking, “Is this Dr. Severin’s office?”

Realizing belatedly he’d been staring at her like a thirsty man at a cool drink, he gathered his wits. He figured she might be what Gert called a detail person from a drug company, wanting his aunt to try some new antidepressant, or she could be a patient. Either way, she was out of luck.

He spoke brusquely to cover his momentary lapse. “The doctor isn’t in town, won’t be back for two days.”

“Oh.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Maybe she was a patient, in which case he ought to try to help her. Reluctantly—he was definitely not ready to get even minimally involved with a woman right now—he muttered, “Is there anything I can do?”

Her gaze drifted over him and she hesitated for a long moment. “Is there a good place in town to get a sandwich and a cold drink?”

From out of town, then. Gert had quite a few patients who were. He hadn’t heard a car drive up earlier, so he glanced around, noticing a blue SUV parked so closely behind the nursery truck that he wasn’t sure they weren’t touching.

“The best place is hard to find,” he said more gruffly than he intended, still wondering whether she had, in fact, hit the back of his truck.

“I can follow directions.” Her tart tone amused him, snapping her back into focus.

“This is a well hidden hole-in-the-wall. Easier to walk there from here than drive.”

“I’m capable of walking.” This time her words held a definite edge, which, for some reason, made him ignore his uneasiness at being attracted to her.

“Easier to show you than tell you,” he said.

Amy Simon eyed the dark-haired man uncertainly as he grabbed a T-shirt from the porch railing and yanked it over his head. In the back of her mind she thought it was a shame to cover that muscular torso glistening with droplets of water. Definitely a hunk. No wonder she’d been momentarily attracted—any woman would have been—until his brusque manner turned her off. Now he was practically ordering her to go with him to wherever the hole-in-the-wall was, something she didn’t care for, either. It reminded her unpleasantly of the psychologist who’d been monitoring her in L.A. Her grandmother would have called Dr. Smits a little tin god on wheels. Smits was a good part of the reason she’d opted to answer Dr. Severin’s ad for a psychologist.

But this guy wasn’t Smits, and she was hungry and thirsty. A walk would do her good after the drive over here from her brother’s horse ranch in Carson Valley, where she’d spent the night. “Thank you,” she said finally. Hoping to pry a name out of him, she added, “I’m Amy, by the way.”

“David,” he told her, and started down the sidewalk, away from where her car was parked.

She followed, hurrying to keep up with him. David? She’d have thought a yard maintenance worker would go by something more macho, like Dave. Immediately she made a face. Shame on her, that was stereotyping, something she’d thought all those psych courses had taught her not to do.

He strode along without talking. Strong silent type? More than likely he had nothing intelligent to say. Oops, more typecasting. Why did she keep downgrading the guy? Could it be because she didn’t want to acknowledge that he turned her on? But that would make her a snob, wouldn’t it? Deciding conversation would dispel such disturbing thoughts, Amy cleared her throat and asked, “Did you grow up in Tourmaline?”

“No.”

“Nevada?”

“No.”

Tamping down exasperation, she persisted. “Where, then?”

“New Mexico.”

End of conversation, as far as he was concerned, apparently. She lost count of the corners they’d turned when he finally stopped, turned and looked at her. His eyes, she noted, were as dark a blue as she’d ever seen. They revealed nothing.

“Why?” he asked.

She blinked, finally understanding he must mean why did she want to know where he grew up. “I was just making small talk,” she muttered.

“This is it.” He gestured toward a green door. The sign over it read Tiny Tim’s. Opening the door, he waved her in ahead of him.

Four minuscule tables were crowded into the small space inside. When they were seated at number two, the only empty one, David said, “Your turn.”

To do what? Order? Talk? She shrugged.

“What state?” he asked.

Oh, where had she grown up. “Michigan,” she told him.

“Not a real good way to start a conversation,” he said.

“Whatcha having?” a gruff voice asked.

Turning her head, she saw a bald man’s head framed in an open hatch on the side wall.

“Got a special, Tim?” David asked.

“Egg salad with alfalfa sprouts, mustard and pickle on rye.”

David glanced at her and she nodded. It sounded sort of weird, but so was the day, so far. “Root beer’s good, they make it locally,” he added.

Not what she’d usually order, but she decided to go with the flow. “Okay.”

Tim’s head disappeared from view.

“So what is your idea of a good conversation starter?” she asked David, trying to ignore how really small their table was. It was impossible to move without her feet or legs brushing against his, each touch heightening her awareness of the sizzle arcing between them.

David looked across the table into her green eyes. Murdock, the senior partner of the law firm he used to be with, had green eyes. Murdock’s were a murky color, though, like his manipulations had turned out to be. Amy’s eyes were clear and filled with light, enhancing her heart-shaped face. No doubt about it, she was the prettiest woman he’d seen in a long time, with a lower lip that begged for… He forced his gaze away, telling himself he wasn’t going down that road. Even if the air between them was all but crackling with electricity.

What had she asked him? Before he could bring it to mind, she spoke. “I’ve never been in favor of starting out by asking what someone does for a living. The emphasis then tends to be on what you do rather than what you’re like.”

“Fine with me. So what do you think I’m like?”

“You’re supposed to tell me.”

He shook his head.

“Table two, yours is ready,” Tim said from the open hatch.

David rose, retrieved the tray from the shelf below the hatch, brought it back to the table and served them both, then slid the tray back onto the counter.

He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed, washing it down with a slug of root beer. “I always figured people show enough of what they’re like, so you get clues,” he said. “Take you—I already know you don’t live in Tourmaline and that you’re an honest Midwesterner.”

Amy’s laugh was unexpectedly deep, charming him against his will. “Where’d you get the idea Midwesterners were more honest than anyone else?”

“From TV, where else?”

She rolled her eyes. “All right, then, from clues I know you’re either a landscaper or that you work for one. But I certainly have no notion of whether New Mexicans are more or less honest that Midwesterners.”

With Murdock in mind, his “Definitely less” came out tinged with bitterness, which vanished when the rest of what she’d said filtered in. This woman thought he was Gert’s yardman? He half smiled. Wasn’t she right in a sense? He hadn’t done any kind of work in more than a year other than mowing his aunt’s lawn and keeping the shrubs trimmed and the weeds under control. Why not play the part? Besides, he could use a little fun in his life.

Without saying one way or the other whether Amy was right or wrong, David finished his sandwich and drink. Since she was through eating at about the same time, he gathered she really had been hungry.

“You know, that weird sandwich wasn’t bad,” she told him. “And I haven’t had root beer in years. Thanks for letting me know about this place.” She reached into her purse and removed a wallet.

David quelled his impulse to offer to pay for hers as well as his, deciding that Aunt Gert’s yardman wouldn’t. Dutch it’d be. He thought of Cal, the worker who’d helped him load the shrubs at the nursery. Though he didn’t own a baseball cap, he could adopt Cal’s swagger and mannerisms.

“Rather have a beer,” he told Amy, getting out his own wallet, “but Tim doesn’t sell the stuff.”

“Oh. Um, so do you have a dog?” she asked, another lame attempt at small talk with the handyman.

Actually he’d just acquired a cat, a stray that had meowed so persistently at his apartment door one night a week ago that he’d let the animal in. When Gert saw her she told him the cat was pregnant. Soon he’d have kittens. A case of no good deed going unpunished.

Cats and kittens didn’t suit the role he’d decided to play, so, remembering something Cal had said, David decided to use it. “Had two dogs,” he told her. “Rottweilers. Some rotten dipstick stole ’em right out of my pickup.”

“What a shame.”

“Yeah, you’d think they’d’ve put up a fight. Who ever heard of wimpy rottweilers? Just as well they’re gone.”

He could tell by her quickly masked expression that he was rapidly turning her off. Which was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

The bill taken care of, they left the café and walked back toward Aunt Gert’s.

“You said Dr. Severin won’t be home for two days?” Amy asked.

“That’s what she told me.”

“I suppose I should have called ahead.”

He stated the obvious, which she ought to know if she was a patient. “The doc works by the appointment system.”

“Well, yes, but I was hoping…” She let the words trail off.

Maybe she was a new patient and had hoped Gert could work her in. What could Amy’s problem be? She didn’t seem depressed, and he ought to know depression when he saw it—he was an expert.

“I guess I’ll just stay over,” she said. “Is there a quiet place in town?”

An arousing mental picture of Amy naked in his bed tonight flashed into his head, but he resisted the temptation to tell her his apartment was about as quiet as it got. To banish the vision, he said tersely, “The local hotel’s not bad.”

“What’s ‘not bad’ mean?”

She never let anything alone, did she? “It’s old but clean. Serves a decent meal, and it’s quiet.”

“Where is it?”

“I’ll show you.”

She stopped and looked up at him. “Maybe you could just tell me.”

Obviously he’d overdone the Cal routine. Now he was stuck with it. Deliberately ignoring her words, he said, “The hotel is up this way,” then took her elbow to turn her to the left, which was a mistake. He hadn’t actually touched her before, and, if he’d sensed the electricity between them in the café, he damn well felt it now.

For a moment neither of them moved, then she jerked free, frowning at him.

He gave her a one-sided smile. “Coming?”

He thought she might not, but then she fell into step beside him. “Shouldn’t you get back to your job?”

“Hey, it’s my lunch break.”

The Cottonwood Hotel was in the next block and nothing more was said until they reached the front entrance. She stopped and peered inside. “It’s got slot machines,” she said accusingly. “That’s not quiet.”

“Most commercial places in Nevada have slots. Take another look. You see anyone playing those machines?”

“Not at the moment.”

“No smoking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Gamblers are mostly smokers. Old Hathaway, who owns the place, won’t let anyone smoke inside his hotel. The hard-case gamblers go where they can.”

Amy raised her eyebrows, hesitated, then said, “I suppose I can give it a try. Goodbye and thanks.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she pushed open the door to the lobby and slipped through it into the hotel.

That was that, David told himself as he sauntered back toward Aunt Gert’s. A brief encounter and a goodbye. The end. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

Before he’d gotten half a block away, he saw Hal Hathaway coming toward him. “Just sent you a customer,” he told Hal.

Hal stopped beside him. “I certainly can use all you send me. I hope this one is pretty.”

David nodded. No argument there.

“Is your aunt back yet?” Hal asked.

“Not until the day after tomorrow.”

“The reason is, I’ve been wanting to ask her if she wants that vacant lot on the street directly in back of you. I’ve decided to sell and she gets first refusal.”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”

Hal went on to list all the reasons why Gert should buy the lot, then remembered something in the hotel basement he wanted to show David.

When David finally was able to get away, he shook his head. He liked the old man, but he was sure long-winded. By the time he got back to his aunt’s, the blue SUV in back of the nursery truck was gone. The time he’d spent with Hal had given Amy long enough to walk to Gert’s and drive the SUV back to the hotel parking lot. He’d missed a last goodbye.

Or would it have been one? If Amy was a patient of Gert’s he might run into her sometime. Best to stay away from his aunt’s patients, though. He didn’t need anyone else’s problems while he was still struggling with his own.

He’d have to consider the fact he usually ate breakfast at the Cottonwood. Giving it a miss for the next two mornings would be a good idea. When he went to bed that night, he kept the thought in mind and wound up dreaming he was in a Manhattan theater watching a follies-type stage show, especially the chorus girl on the left end of the row. He was seated close to her, so close he could see her eyes were green, though her eyes weren’t what he was paying the most attention to….

While shaving early the next morning, he told himself he damn well wasn’t going to change his routine on the off chance he might run into Amy. She’d probably sleep late and no place in town served a better breakfast.

Amy woke at her usual hour and groaned. Here she was more or less on vacation for today and could have slept in. As always, once awake, hunger stalked her. She could never understand those who made do with just orange juice or coffee for breakfast, she needed a meal. David had been right when he said the hotel served decent food—dinner had been delicious. She looked forward to breakfast.

David. Why was he still on her mind? At least she hadn’t dreamed about him. Not that she could recall, anyway. Being a psychologist, she did try to track her dreams, but, oddly enough, couldn’t remember any this morning. Perhaps she’d suppressed them and she actually had dreamed of David. There’s an unsettling thought.

Actually she probably would see him again, however briefly, because the yard work Dr. Severin was having done had looked quite extensive, but it’d be no more than a “Hi” sort of encounter. The last thing she needed at the moment was a man in her life. Never mind what Dr. Smits had told her about her denial state where men were concerned. He was another example of a controlling man himself. Sometimes she wondered how his wife could stand him.

On the off chance that Dr. Severin might come home earlier than expected, Amy put on a dark green skirt with a lighter green shirt, ran a brush through her short curly hair and left her room.

As she entered the dining room, she noticed the waitress seating a man—David. Annoyed because her heart gave a lurch, she wished she could walk past him without a word, but that would be confirming Smits’ diagnosis of denial. Okay, she’d acknowledge David’s presence by a courteous hello. Why was she making such a big deal of it, anyway?

The waitress came to seat her and Amy was almost at his table when he saw her. He stood up, unsmiling, and gestured toward an empty chair.

“I guess you’re with David,” the waitress said, plopping the menu she held onto his table. “I’m Vera and I’ll be right back.”

Telling herself it’d be awkward to back out, Amy let David seat her.

“You didn’t tell me you ate breakfast here,” she said.

“I expected you to sleep late,” he told her.

“Why?”

He shrugged.

“Do I impress you as someone who doesn’t work for a living?” she asked.

He shrugged again.

Realizing she sounded defensive, which would never do, Amy took a deep breath and decided to start over. “Good morning, David.”

His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. “’Morning, Amy.”

“I see the sun is out.”

“Usually is in May hereabouts.”

“You don’t make small talk easy.”

“I don’t?” His gaze met hers.

The deep blue of his eyes fascinated her. What color were they? Darker than cobalt or azure, but lighter than navy. They dominated his face, making it difficult for her to look away. When she forced herself to, she found herself examining the curve of his upper lip. He had a rather full mouth, as she did. She found his attractive. What would it be like to feel those lips touching hers?

Wrong place to go. “Once I wake up I’m hungry,” she blurted, throwing the words at him as a barrier.

“Likewise, I’m sure. Coffee, then food, fast. You?” When she nodded, he lifted the coffee server and poured some into her cup.

“Thanks.” She took a swallow. As she remembered from last night, it was excellent.

“Black’s the only way to drink it.” He actually sounded approving.

To discourage any more approval, remembering his comment about beer the day before, she said, “I don’t like beer in any way, shape or form.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s beer got to do with coffee?”

“Nothing much, you ask me,” Vera, the waitress, told him, having arrived unobserved. “You guys ready to order?”

When she’d taken their order and left, David said, “Vera said it all. Beer and coffee, apples and oranges.”

He really did have a habit of picking every comment apart, didn’t he? Two could play that game. “So you decided you weren’t likely to run into me at breakfast since I was obviously a late sleeper.”

“Can’t be right all the time. Figured you didn’t have anything to get up for this morning. Didn’t tie in hunger.”

Something flashed into his eyes as he said the last word, but it was gone before she could be sure what she’d seen. A different kind of hunger? Damn chemistry, anyway—she could feel the tension between them like a palpable chain. He certainly gave off irresistible pheromones. Or was it only females who did that? Looking at him across the table seemed to be turning her brain to mush.

David tried to focus on his coffee, but he couldn’t keep his gaze away from her. Today she wore a skirt and a polo shirt, green like those deep-sea eyes of hers. A bad mistake to come here for breakfast. He should have stayed away. Far away.

No woman had tempted him for more than a second or two since his divorce, but he couldn’t make himself ignore Amy. While any man would give her a second look, this was more than reacting to a pretty face atop a well-built body. He seemed to be drawn to her in a way that scared the hell out of him.

Vera’s arrival with their food was a welcome break. He wondered if it was for Amy, too, since she concentrated on her food and didn’t talk. If she didn’t want to sit with him, why hadn’t she declined his offer to share a table? For that matter, why had he made it? Courtesy? He knew better.

Yeah, Severin, and you know better than to get into a tangle you’ll regret.

He tried to come up with something Cal might say, something that might turn her completely off him, and found all he could think of was that Cal was actually an all-right guy. What he’d been doing was parodying Cal’s speech patterns and making a mockery of the guy’s lifestyle. He scowled.

“Is something wrong with your food?” Amy asked.

He glanced up at her. “Why?”

“You’ve been glaring down at your plate forever.”

“The food’s fine.”

“Oh, then it must be the company you’re annoyed with.”

“I asked for the company, didn’t I?”

She raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t mean you can’t have regrets.”

“If I’m annoyed at anyone, it’s myself.” He picked up his cup, downed the last drop of coffee and reached for the carafe. “Care for a refill?”

“Just warm it, thanks.” She waited until he poured more coffee into her cup, then said, “Anger’s destructive.”

“So I’ve been told.” By his aunt, more than once in the past year. He poured himself another cupful and took a swallow. Been told that and other cautions he hadn’t wanted to hear. Ethically, Gert wasn’t allowed to psychoanalyze him because he was a relative. Which didn’t prevent her from dropping loaded hints. Or making a yardman out of him, like Amy believed he was. The last thought made him smile.

“That’s better,” she said.

“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, too,” he deadpanned.

“Always supposing you’re looking to catch flies.” Her words challenged him.

“I’m not looking to catch anything.” He spoke flatly, his gaze crossing hers.

He watched her face turn expressionless, but her tone was light when she said, “And here I felt sure you were a fisherman.”

“Every yardman doesn’t fish.”

He could see he’d managed to offend her. “I was not trying to categorize you,” she snapped.

He glanced at the egg congealing on his plate and knew he couldn’t finish his breakfast. Just as well, because this seemed a good time to split. He flipped a couple of bucks on the table for a tip, rose, nodded to her and walked to the cashier to pay his bill. Not hers, though it might annoy her more if he did. But he figured he’d done enough damage. He was safe. Amy wasn’t likely to give him the time of day again, even if she became a regular patient of his aunt’s. Just the way he wanted it.

Then why didn’t he feel relieved?

Amy watched David leave the hotel, then pushed her plate to one side, her appetite gone. What a boor. Though she hadn’t wanted to explore what might have been between them any more than he did, he didn’t need to be so abrupt. With time maybe they could have managed to become friends.

Friends? Ha. Who was she trying to snow? Hadn’t she learned not to fool herself? If anything had ever been going to happen between her and David, it wouldn’t be friendship. She’d never gone in for brief, hot affairs—like any relationship with him would have been—so it was just as well their acquaintance had ended on a sour note.

She should be glad. She was glad. With luck he’d finish the yard work at Dr. Severin’s quickly and then be out of her life completely. He was as forgettable as any other man.

And if he knew what was good for him, he’d better keep out of her dreams, too.

Chapter Two

C al was unloading a new batch of greenery from the nursery truck when David reached Aunt Gert’s.

“Wanted to be sure you got the rest of the stuff you need early,” Cal said.

“Thanks.” David pitched in to help, thinking again of how he’d used Cal. What he’d done wouldn’t harm Cal in any way, but he was unpleasantly reminded of how Murdock had patronized him last year. In no way, shape or form did he want to be like that bastard.

“The boss says you ever want a job, just ask,” Cal told him when they finished. “He drove by yesterday while you was putting in them shrubs. Said you’re a damn good worker.”

“Tell him I appreciate the compliment.” Which was the truth. Not that he intended to do landscaping for a living.

David watched Cal pull away in the truck. In a way, he envied the man. Cal liked his job and seemed to be satisfied with his life, which was a hell of a lot more than could be said about David Severin. He lived comfortably enough, having been lucky enough to put the money his grandfather had left him in investments that proved both sound and profitable. Still, he was getting restless doing nothing. Aunt Gert had urged him to take both the Nevada bar exams, which he’d passed, but he had no heart for law after what had happened in New Mexico. The truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

A few plantings later, his gloomy mood began to lift. Gert was right about hard work in the open air easing depression. He peeled off his T-shirt, hung it on the porch railing and picked up a spirea bush. He’d just finished digging the hole for it when he saw Gert’s car pulling into the drive. She waved at him on her way back to the garage. He dropped the bush into the hole, quickly covered the roots and set aside the spade.

As he walked toward the garage, the overhead door went down and Gert emerged from the side door, carrying a small overnight case.

“You’re home early,” he told her. “Let me take that inside for you.”

She handed him the case. “A delegation from the Walker Valley reservation called on Grandfather, wanting advice. What they really wanted, I soon saw, was for him to go back there with them, so I gracefully bowed out.”

David knew she meant her friend, a Paiute medicine man who insisted everyone call him Grandfather.

She stopped in the utility room and told him to leave the case by the washer. “He’d had one of his dreams, by the way,” she said. “Something about two red-tailed hawks. You were one of them, apparently.”

Since Grandfather’s dreams often had some bearing on reality, David waited for her to go on. Instead, she switched subjects. “Now I’m going to take a shower, change and come sit on the front porch and watch you work.”

“The hawks?”

“I’m still thinking about that dream. When I have it figured out I’ll let you know.” She left him in the utility room.

David retraced his steps out the back door and around to the front again. He picked up the spade and set to work once more. He’d gotten more than half the plantings in when his aunt appeared on the porch with a pitcher of limeade and two glasses.

“Join me?” she invited.

After using the hose to wash some of the dirt off his bare skin, he donned his T-shirt and took a chair beside his aunt, who was sitting on the glider, moving gently back and forth. He reached for the drink she’d poured for him and swallowed half the contents of the tall glass.

“This is hand-squeezed limeade,” his aunt said. “You’re supposed to sip and savor the result of my efforts.”

“Too thirsty.” The words reminded him of his first sight of Amy. “By the way, someone came by yesterday to see you—I think she might have been a new patient. I told her you’d be back tomorrow.”

“All my regulars knew I was out of town,” Gert said.

David leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs. Felt good to take a break. Like yesterday when he’d had lunch with Amy at Tiny Tim’s. He closed his eyes and there she was in her blue suit, the way he’d seen her that day…

“Penny for your thoughts,” Gert said. “They must be pleasant, since you’re smiling.”

Without opening his eyes he told a half-truth. “Just relaxed.”

Still thinking about yesterday, he was falling into a half doze when Gert exclaimed, “Why, look who’s here. You’ve come early.”

David’s eyes popped open and for a moment he thought he was having a vision straight out of his daydream. Amy was climbing the front steps to the porch. He stumbled to his feet, unable to believe his eyes.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow, Dr. Severin,” Amy said. “I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you.” She didn’t look at him.

“Not a bit. I’m just glad I came home a day early,” Gert said. “Amy, this is my nephew, David Severin. David, Amy Simon, whom I told you would be coming to work with me.”

It all came back to him then. Dr. Simon, Gert had said, was finishing up her probationary year toward getting her license, in which she had to be under the supervision of a licensed psychologist or a board-certified psychiatrist. He’d remembered Dr. Simon was female, but he’d forgotten her first name. He’d assumed she’d be older. And definitely not a sexy blonde.

“Hello, Mr. Severin,” Amy said, those green eyes of hers as cold as the limeade he’d downed.

He swallowed and inclined his head. “Dr. Simon.”

“Heavens, such formality,” his aunt said, giving him an odd look. “I’m Gert, she’s Amy and you’re David.”

“Yes,” he muttered, “she’s Amy, all right.”

“And you’re David.” Amy’s voice was as frosty as her eyes.

Gert rose from the glider to look at one, then the other of them. “Such antipathy can only mean, I do believe, that you’ve met before. This does explain at least part of Grandfather’s dream about the male hawk and the female hawk.”

Recovering somewhat from the shock of discovering David was Dr. Severin’s nephew, Amy was confused anew by his aunt’s words. Gert had to be in her seventies and she had a grandfather? Good grief, how old would he be?

“I’m forgetting my manners,” Gert said to her. “As I mentioned when we had that brief meeting in Reno last month, you’ll stay with me until you find a place to live. Do come in and I’ll show you to your room.”

“Well, um, I’m at the Cottonwood Hotel at the moment.” The last place Amy wanted to stay was anywhere David might be living.

Apparently sensing this, Gert said, “David has his own apartment to the west of town so you don’t need to worry about putting him out. It’ll be handier for you here than at the hotel until you find a place of your own.”

Which was true. Especially if David planned to eat breakfast at the Cottonwood every morning. “It’s very kind of you, Dr.—”

“Didn’t I just say the name is Gert?”

Amy managed a smile, beginning to feel she was going to get along with her new employer. “Thanks, Gert.”

“This yardman better get back to work,” David said.

Amy slanted him a dirty look. Sure, rub it in, she thought, when you deliberately let me believe that’s what you were. She wondered why he didn’t explain himself right away.

“Amy may need some help transferring her things from the hotel,” Gert reminded David.

“No!” Amy cried. “That is, I mean I wouldn’t dream of bothering him when I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

Gert’s dark gaze assessed her. “I see I’m odd woman out at this rather peculiar interchange. Since I’m related to one of you and have invited the other to be my new associate, don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

After a long moment of silence, David said, “She’s the one I thought might be a new patient of yours.”

Gert turned from him to Amy. “Apparently you didn’t tell him your name?”

“She said it was Amy,” David admitted. “I’d forgotten Dr. Simon’s first name, so I didn’t make the connection.”

“He told me he was David,” Amy confessed. “Since I had no other identification to go by, I’m afraid I thought he was your yardman.”

Gert’s chuckle turned into whoops of laughter.

Amy looked at David, who shrugged, but she thought she detected a quiver of a beginning smile. Maybe it was funny. Maybe she’d think so next year. Or the year after. She didn’t at the moment. He’d led her on, she was sure, once she’d mentioned she thought he worked for a landscaper. Come to think of it, hadn’t it been just after that he’d mentioned the wimpy rottweilers and wanting a beer?

So annoyed she couldn’t hold her tongue, she scowled at him and muttered, “I’ll bet you never did own a dog, let alone two.”

Raising her eyebrows, Gert said, “He does have a cat—and maybe even kittens by now.”

To Amy’s surprise, David grinned at her. “No dogs, and I admit I’m not really into beer, either. Truce. After all, you didn’t let on who you were, either.”

Now he was trying to charm her. She wasn’t going to fall for that, but, because she was to be his aunt’s associate, Amy squashed down her irritation. She didn’t have to like him, but, since he was Gert’s nephew, she should try to be courteous. “You have a cat?” she asked.

“You could say she picked me.”

“Kittens are imminent,” Gert added. “Now that we have the fuss momentarily settled, do come inside, Amy.”

After the two of them went into the house, David walked down the porch steps and picked up the shovel. Amy’s SUV was parked in front of his pickup at curbside and he could see what the truck had hid yesterday. A California license. Maybe that would have given him a clue to her identity. And maybe not. Even though he knew he’d improved, he still wasn’t focused as well as he used to be a year ago. Betrayal by two of the people he trusted most—his boss and his wife—had knocked him off-kilter.

As he was wrestling a large oleander into the ground, Amy came onto the porch and stood for a moment, her gaze on him. He was tempted to ask if she enjoyed watching the yardman, but decided she was peeved enough with him already. He was tamping the dirt down when she descended the steps. Would she walk past without acknowledging his existence?

“So you took a stray cat in,” she said. “A stray pregnant cat.”

He set the shovel aside. “The cat kept pestering me.”

“Nevertheless, it helped me decide that we should start over with our formal introduction of today and put the past behind us.”

“You mean yesterday and this morning at breakfast?”

“That’s the past, isn’t it?”

Her snappishness amused him. Either she riled easily, or, as he suspected, he was the cause. “Become friends, you mean?”

She hesitated. “Well, I suppose you could put it like that.”

Reminded of a court case in New Mexico, David chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded.

He decided to tell her. “I once watched while a judge lectured two men in court about one assaulting the other with a paintbrush loaded with paint. Apparently one had been criticizing how the other was painting a fence. The painter took it for a while, but finally turned and swiped the paintbrush across the other man’s face. The judge told them they were wasting the court’s time and ordered them to shake hands and be friends again.” He paused.

“So they did?”

“You don’t argue with a judge’s decision. ‘Me, I do that, Your Honor,’ the painter said, ‘but I tell by the look in his eye, he no be friends with me.’”

A reluctant smile crept across Amy’s face. “You caught me. I really didn’t mean friends, but I’m willing to try.” She stepped off the sidewalk over to where he stood, and offered her hand.

David clasped it in his, holding it while the potency of what had been between them from the beginning jolted through him. From the sudden widening of her eyes, he suspected she felt it, too. Back to square one.

As their hands parted, he said, “Friends,” very much aware that friendship wasn’t all he wanted from Amy.

Amy got into her SUV and drove toward the hotel, wondering just what she’d promised to David with that handshake. Actually they’d held hands, rather than shaken them, and when they finally let go, she hadn’t wanted to. What was it about the man that drew her? Sure, he was a hunk, but she’d met hunks before without her hormones acting up.

She remembered what her brother, Russ, had told her about his first meeting with Mari, now his wife. “She was sitting on a corral fence. She took off her hat and I saw this glorious hair and knew right then I was a goner. Especially since I’d already noticed her cute butt.”

David did have a cute butt. The thought made her laugh. She was overreacting to a purely chemical attraction, something she’d certainly get over. Especially since she intended to be too busy to spend much time with her new “friend.”

At the hotel, the lobby was empty. Mr. Hathaway, a short, stout man with white hair, was at the desk. “Checking out, are you?” he asked. “I hope you were happy here.”

“You have a nice quiet place,” she told him. “And delicious food.”

He beamed at her. “I do try to satisfy folks. I hope you’ll dine with us again. I say that because I understand you had breakfast with David Severin, so I expect you may be around for a while. I heard Dr. Gert was taking on a female associate, and I figure you might be her.”

Tourmaline was a small town, Amy reminded herself. Word got around small towns with the speed of light. “Yes, you’re right.”

“David’s a nice young man. Too bad about that trouble he had in New Mexico. Can’t believe any of it was his fault. His wife must have, though, because she divorced him.”

A divorce? Amy was torn between not wanting to listen to gossip and finding out as much as she could about David. Her better nature lost. “A shame,” she said. She had no clue what the trouble Mr. Hathaway was talking about might be, but she knew pumps needed priming.

“He wasn’t disbarred, you know, so others in New Mexico must have felt he wasn’t guilty.”

David was a lawyer? All the more reason to stay clear of him. Since she hadn’t any idea what had happened, she said nothing, merely nodded at Mr. Hathaway, hoping he’d tell her more.

“Women are like that,” he said. “Desert a man just when he most needs support.” She must have frowned, because he added quickly, “Don’t mean you, of course. Or Dr. Gert, come to think of it. I amend my statement to say some women are like that, my ex-wife included.”

She waited, but apparently his gaffe had rattled him into giving no more information about David’s past. “It’s been nice talking to you,” she told him.

He winked at her. “Always have time for a pretty girl.”

As Amy drove toward Gert’s, she mulled over what she’d heard about David. He’d obviously been practicing law in New Mexico and had gotten into some kind of legal trouble there. It hadn’t been serious enough to get him disbarred, but had evidently caused his wife to divorce him. She knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she learned more, but who to ask? Certainly not his aunt. Or, heaven forbid, David.

Was he practicing law here? The massive landscaping overhaul he was doing single-handedly at Gert’s seemed to argue against it. Still, he could’ve taken time off.

Gert had told her to pull her vehicle into the drive past the house and park it where an extra cement slab had been laid down. Amy was grateful she’d be able to use the back door, thus avoiding David offering to help her move her things in.

When Amy was through settling her belongings into her bedroom and had changed into jeans and a polo shirt, she went downstairs to the office where she knew Gert would be. As she walked into the waiting room, Gert was just putting the phone down. She gestured Amy to a seat.

“That was Hal Hathaway, thanking me for choosing a young, good-looking associate. He thinks the town has enough old fogies as it is.”

“News travels fast in Tourmaline,” Amy said.

“Hal makes sure of that. He’s the town’s prime gossip. I assume he got his chance to talk to you when you checked out of his hotel.”

Amy nodded.

“I’m sure he told you some things about David. How much?”

“Well, that David was divorced and there’d been some kind of a problem in New Mexico.”

“Over a year ago, yes. David was at a low point when he came here. I felt he needed some therapy, but being a relative, it wasn’t ethical for me to treat him. I tried to get him to go to a psychiatrist in Reno, but he refused. I have little doubt that he would have refused therapy even from me, had I been able to offer it.”

“I don’t know him well,” Amy said cautiously, “but he doesn’t seem to be in a depression now.”

“Hard work in the sun and fresh air has been good medicine.”

“The landscaping,” Amy murmured.

“Exactly.”

“Mr. Hathaway mentioned David was a lawyer.”

“Is. He passed both Nevada bar exams.” Gert sighed. “I remember him telling me when he was ten that when he grew up he was going to be a lawyer and help people, just like I was a doctor and helped them. Law was his dream. But now—” She paused and shook her head. “He’s disillusioned with the profession. Who knows if he’ll ever go back.”

“If he passed the exams…?”

“I think he took them just to shut me up.”

“He’s in denial.” It wasn’t a question, Amy was offering a diagnosis.

Gert shrugged. “I’ve told you this because I know you’ll hear more gossip. I also realize that you and David got off on the wrong foot. He’ll work things out eventually. Try not to be too hard on him.”

“No, of course not.” Even as Amy said the words, a plan was forming in her mind. Though she was Gert’s associate, she wasn’t related to David, so it wasn’t exactly unethical for her to try to help him. Not that she’d be overt. With his negative attitude toward therapy, it’d never do to let him realize she was going to be attempting to steer him into overcoming his denial, so he could return to the profession he’d once loved.

She felt really noble for about ten seconds. Then it hit her. She, who had absolutely no use for the legal profession, was going to try to find a way to get this man to embrace law again? What a crock. On the other hand, she’d gone into psychology because she wanted to help people understand their problems and overcome them. David had a real problem. It shouldn’t matter what it was, she was a psychologist and it was her duty to help him face up to his.

Should she discuss it with Gert? For a moment or two she wavered, then decided actually there was no need to, since she wasn’t going to officially be David’s therapist. Hers would be a covert operation. If it didn’t work, no harm would come to him. There was a good chance she could pull it off, in which case he’d be better.

“Given time, I believe David and I can become friends,” she said.

Gert smiled at her. “I hope so. Now I’ll show you around a bit so you’ll know where everything is when we start seeing patients tomorrow.”

David, T-shirt slung on the porch rail again, inserted the last of today’s shrubs into its hole, a hibiscus the nursery owner thought was hardy enough to survive a Nevada winter. Time would tell. He’d given it a southern exposure near the house so the plant would have a fighting chance.

“So are you through for the day?” Amy’s voice came from behind, startling him.

He turned to look at her. “More or less.”

“I’ve been thinking about our contract—you know, to try to be friends. It occurred to me if you don’t know much about cats, I might be of some help when yours delivers her kittens. My mother always had cats, so I got to be an amateur expert in kittens at an early age.”

Taken aback at her friendly offer, David hesitated, finally saying, “It’s true I don’t know much about cats.”

“Most of them just go ahead and have their kittens, but some can be difficult about it. I could come over and meet her so she’ll know me when the time comes.”

Come to his apartment? He stared at her. What had brought on this sudden switch? She couldn’t be coming on to him, so just what was she up to?

“Just to meet your cat, I mean.” A tinge of coolness in her voice told him that Amy hadn’t changed all that much.

Let’s see how far he could push her. “You could drive over with me now and get acquainted with Hobo while I take a shower and clean up.”

“Hobo? What kind of name is that for a female cat?”

“How was I to know she was a female? Gert clued me in, but I’d named her by then. Coming with me?”

She frowned—being in the same place with him while he showered wasn’t such a good idea. Time to set things straight, Amy thought. “Ever since we first met I seem to hear you telling me the best way to get places. Since we’ve decided to be friends, I want to be up front with some things, one of them being that I do not like controlling men.”

He let out a bark of surprised laughter. “Me? Controlling?”

“You tend to take charge without consulting me. First you wouldn’t let me drive to Tiny Tim’s by myself, you had to show me in person. It didn’t seem worth an argument so I let it go. Then you wouldn’t tell me how to get to the hotel, even though I asked you to give me directions. You insisted on taking me there. Again I didn’t protest because, well, actually I didn’t expect to see you again.”

David thought it over for a moment or two. “I see your point, but I think you’re being a tad sensitive about what’s meant to be controlling and what isn’t. Try this on—maybe I was merely trying to be a gentleman.”

“What about the fact you just asked if I was coming with you to your place to hang out while you showered?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t say yes or no and I badly need a shower. I was trying to speed things up.”

He could see she was considering that.

“I see your point, too,” she said finally.

“That’s what friends do—give each other a little slack when necessary.” He waited to see how she’d react to that.

He thought her “True enough” was a bit forced. For some reason she was determined to stick to the idea of them being friends. Well, why not? He might be wary of any other type of involvement with a woman, but what was the harm in being friends with Amy?

“Compromise is also what friends do,” she said. “So I’ll follow you to your apartment to meet Hobo. That way you won’t have to drive me back here.”

She was one up on him there. Could be fun to have her for a friend.

“Sounds good,” he told her, and gave her the address in case they got separated on the way.

Then he watched her walk away. She’d changed into jeans, and as he took note of her curvy bottom, he decided it might not be all that easy to be “just friends” with Amy Simon.

Chapter Three

A t his apartment, David pointed out the cat to Amy and started for his bedroom to grab some clean clothes before he showered.

“Wait,” Amy called after him. “Hobo and I need to be introduced by you.”

He paused. “Why? She’s a cat.”

“She’s your cat. And a very pretty tortoiseshell. Your introduction will let her know I’m okay.”

He rolled his eyes but walked back and knelt down beside Amy, who was holding out her fingers for Hobo to sniff.

“Hobo,” he said, “meet Amy. She’s a friend.” He rose and bolted for the bedroom before Amy could come up with another wacky idea.

He was back in ten minutes, showered and wearing clean jeans and T-shirt.

Amy was sitting on the floor petting the cat. “Where’s her box?” she asked.

“Litter box?”

“No, I mean her birthing box. For her to have the kittens in.”

“Gert didn’t tell me she needed that.”

“Hobo has to get used to the box ahead of time so she won’t go off and have the kittens in the corner of a closet or a dresser drawer left open. Or even on your bed. I don’t think you’d care for that since birthing is rather messy. You need to be prepared.”

“I wasn’t planning on becoming the father of kittens, you know.”

“Obviously. Do you happen to have a fair-size cardboard box somewhere?”

He found one, as well as an old blanket for Amy to put in the bottom of the box and several old towels to cover it. She placed the box in an out-of-the-way corner of the living room. “Now, put Hobo in the box,” she said. “She’ll sniff all around in it and probably jump out, but she’ll know it’s there. You can keep putting her in it when you’re home so she gets the idea it’s hers.”

“See what I got myself into for taking you in,” he told the cat as he lifted her gently and set her down inside the box. “Special cat food bowls that won’t tip over, water bowls that fill when you need a drink, kitty litter for the sandbox and now this.”

“She doesn’t seem to have any fleas,” Amy said.

“Gert told me she wouldn’t. Fleas don’t like high desert—the elevation here is almost five thousand feet.”

Hobo leaped out of the box, pausing to smell the outside of the cardboard, then she brushed against David’s leg before going over to sniff at Amy’s shoe. Amy bent and stroked her behind the ears, murmuring, “I’ll be back to see you, pretty girl.”

Which meant she planned to return to his apartment in the near future. Before he started picturing her in his bed, he reminded himself the key word was friends, not lovers. If he kept his hands off her, and he definitely meant to, maybe the chemistry he could still feel between them would lose its potency.

As Amy straightened, Hobo let out what could only be described as a mournful yowl. He stared at the cat. Was something wrong with her?

“Uh-oh.” Amy plopped down beside Hobo again, this time gently feeling the cat’s stomach. “I think you got that box ready in the nick of time. She’s in labor. You’d better put her in it.”

“You mean now?” David said, his blue eyes widening.

“Yes, right now.”

He very gingerly lifted Hobo and carried her to the box. She sniffed it again and seemed to settle down to stay. He started to walk away, but the cat climbed out and followed him, yowling.

“She’s one of those,” Amy told him.

“Those what?”

“If you don’t sit by the box while she has at least the first kitten, she’ll keep following you and have the kittens wherever you are. Some cats are like that. Others demand total privacy.”

“You mean I have to play vet midwife? I studied law, not medicine.”

“She’ll do all the work, but she’s bonded with you and she needs the security of you being nearby.”

David sighed, put Hobo back in the box and eased down on the floor next to it. “You’re the cat expert,” he told Amy. “How about joining me here?”

He knew Amy had chosen the corner so the cat could feel partly hidden, not for space, and this made for a very cozy situation when Amy sat next to him—she was practically in his lap. Such near intimacy made it difficult for him to keep the word friend in mind. She smelled faintly of some light floral scent he couldn’t identify despite his recent acquaintance with nursery plants. Whatever it was, he liked it.

Keep your mind on the cat, Amy warned herself as her knee brushed against David’s thigh. This chemistry thing is merely a matter of endorphins, nothing you can’t ignore. But ignoring the feeling was darn hard when she was crowded against him.

Hobo began to growl, focusing her attention. The cat’s ears went back as she crouched in the box, and suddenly a kitten’s head pushed its way free of her. The rest of the kitten followed quickly and Hobo turned to the tiny thing and began licking it clean.

“Looks like a drowned mouse,” David commented.

The next kitten was tinier than the first and Hobo nudged it away from her without trying to clean it, returning her attention to the firstborn.

“You need to put that reject under her nose so she’ll have to take care of it,” Amy said.

“I need to?”

“She trusts you. I’m still a stranger.”

By the time David cautiously moved the rejected kitten closer, a third one was being born. Again Hobo pushed the second born aside to tend to the new one.

“Why won’t she take care of it?” he asked.

“The poor little thing is the runt of the litter. Cats seem to sense that the smallest one has the least chance of survival, so they tend to the others first. The trouble is, the runt can die during this time.”

“You mean the kitten may be defective?”

“It’s a possibility.”

David’s expression changed from puzzled to determined as, muttering about handicaps, he persisted in setting the tiniest kitten in front of Hobo until she finally gave up and started washing the runt. By the time the fourth and last was born, the runt had revived enough to crawl to a nipple and join the other two.

“No matter if she is a runt,” David said. “She deserves a chance.”

Because he’d identified the kitten as female without any evidence, Amy decided his words might well pertain to more than the kitten, but she hesitated to pry. To help David, as she intended to do, she needed to gain his confidence before asking any personal questions.

“You gave her one,” she told him.

“And she ran with it. A fighter. She’ll do okay.”

They both started to get up at the same time and collided in the narrow space. She grabbed him for balance and his arms went around her. Amy could feel the sizzle of heat as he held her close for a longer moment than either needed to regain their balance. As he released her, she gazed into his eyes and noticed how dilated his pupils were—a sure sign that touching her affected him. Hers probably were, too, since she could hardly deny she didn’t want him to let her go.

“Uh,” she said, backing away, “now you need to ease those messy towels out from under her and let her lie with the kittens on the clean blanket underneath. If you don’t, she may try to move the kittens to another spot. It’s an instinct to get rid of the birth odors so the kittens will be safe from predators.”

He grunted but did as she said. Once he’d disposed of the towels and washed his hands, he said, “Care to celebrate the birth of Hobo’s four kittens by having dinner with me?”

“I think you should stay with her for a while.”

“They deliver pizza.”

With the memory of him holding her still potent, she started to refuse. On second thought, though, eating pizza with him would actually be a casually friendly thing to do. “Pepperoni,” she said.

“With sausage.”

Lots of cholesterol, but she could afford that once in a while.

“Sounds good.”

While they waited for the delivery, Amy decided to pursue her plan of covert therapy under the cover of comradeship. “What’s there to do around here when you’re not working?” she asked.

David took a while to answer. “You ever been up in a sailplane?” he asked finally.

“I don’t even know what one is.”

“You’ve heard of gliders.” At her nod, he continued. “A sailplane is a sophisticated glider, designed aerodynamically to stay in the air as long as the pilot can find a thermal.”

“You lost me somewhere along the way.”

“You’ve seen hawks soaring up and up without moving their wings. That’s because they’re in a column of rising air—a thermal. Actually, it’d be easier to show you this weekend.”

“You mean you have a sailplane?”

“Some play golf, I sailplane. Been doing it ever since I got my pilot’s license ten years ago.”

Somewhat reassured by the fact he’d been at it for ten years and so must be experienced, Amy still had a problem. “I’m not all that crazy about flying,” she admitted.

“In commercial jets, you mean?”

Again she nodded.

“There’s no comparison.”

Maybe not, but was she prepared to do something she was sure would scare her just to further her acquaintance with David so she could help him with his denial problem?

He grinned at her. “Scared?”

She bristled. As a kid, the worst insult her older brother could throw at her was that she was a scaredycat. Just to prove to him she wasn’t, she’d risked things in the past she shuddered to think of. Still, she wasn’t a child anymore, so she shouldn’t be swayed by David asking if she was scared. She might be, but she had no intention of telling him. Or backing down.

Raising her chin, she said, “Sounds like fun.”

Later, as they ate the pizza, he told her more about sailplanes than she cared to know. Apparently lots of people flew them here in Nevada where thermals were frequent.

“It’s so quiet up there, so beautiful,” he said. “You feel like a hawk yourself, endlessly soaring.”

“You’ve sold me,” she said, realizing sailplaning was something he really loved to do. To join him might make her a trusted buddy, and she did need his trust if she was going to help him. Taking a deep breath, she added, “I’ll give it a try.”

Immediately after saying it, she rose from her chair at the kitchen table. “Time to leave.” Yes, before she got talked into something else precarious. “I did enjoy the pizza, sausage and all.”

He got up, too. “Thanks for the help with the kittens.”

Which reminded her of how he’d assumed the runt was female. Why? Could be it really wasn’t important, but she’d find out sooner or later. “Glad to be of service.”

“I’ll pick you up at Gert’s Saturday morning around noon. Thermals usually form in the afternoon.”

“You said you had a pilot’s license. Do you have to be a pilot to fly sailplanes?”

“Yep. Have to learn about gliders, too.”

“So I’m safe with you, I guess.”

He was standing close to her. Too close. She ordered her feet to move away from him, but the order got garbled by what she saw in those deep blue eyes, and she remained motionless. He was looking at her like—like…

Without touching her otherwise, he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. Every cell in her body yearned for him.

Safe with him? The words echoed in her head as she leaned into the kiss wanting more, needing more, even though she tried not to. Impossible not to relish the zing that ran bone-deep. Good grief, all this without even being in his arms. With a tremendous effort of will, she broke contact and literally fled from the apartment.

So much for being safe, she told herself as she climbed into her SUV. Clenching her teeth, she vowed to make sure that didn’t happen again. Friends was the operative word—not lovers.

David found himself staring bemusedly at the door she’d closed behind her and forced himself into action. Clean up the kitchen. Take out the trash. Stop thinking about how soft and warm her lips were and how they’d yielded to his. Don’t remember her taste or how she smells of flowers.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Been too long without a woman, Severin, he told himself. And this one definitely isn’t a good choice for a quick affair. Very bad choice—your aunt’s associate. Which was true, no doubt about it, but he didn’t think it’d stop him from kissing her again, if the chance came.

On the other hand, she could be at loose ends, wanting no more than he wanted. Nothing even vaguely permanent. Just a test of how potent the chemistry was.

As he went into the living room to check on the kittens, he nodded. Start as friends, keep cool and see where it goes. Kneeling by the box, he stared down at Hobo and her brood of four, all fuzzy now as they nursed. The tiny one was completely black, the other three black and white. As he reached down and stroked the black one’s head with a gentle finger, Hobo mewed.

“Don’t worry, I’d never hurt her,” he murmured. How could he, when the sight of that tiny body reminded him so much of Sarah, one and a half months premature and so small she’d looked like a doll, not a baby.

That had been five—no, six—years ago. He shared custody with Iris, his ex, but hadn’t asked to have Sarah visit him since he’d left New Mexico last year. David sighed and got to his feet. Right now she was better off with her mother than him.

The next day, David pulled into Tourmaline’s small airfield with Amy, parking near where his sailplane was tied down. She got out of his pickup and walked around the aircraft. “It’s bigger than I thought it’d be,” she told him.

“That good or bad news?”

She frowned. “Good, I guess.”

He’d sensed her increasing nervousness as they’d driven to the field. “Aunt Gert’s been up with me several times,” he said in an effort to make her relax. “Grandfather, too.”

“Your grandfather?”

“No, not mine.”

“Well, he can’t be your aunt’s. She told me herself she’s seventy.”

“He’s a friend of ours who goes by that name.”

She stared at him. “You mean everyone calls him Grandfather?”

“He’s a Paiute medicine man. Grandfather is a name of respect.” David turned to greet a middle-aged man walking toward them. “Amy, this is Grant,” he said. “Our tow pilot. Grant, my friend Amy.”

Grant nodded to her. “Going up with this yahoo, are you?”

“I said I would.”

“Can’t renege on a promise, that it?” Grant chuckled. “Don’t worry, I ain’t crashed yet and neither’s he.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that ‘yet,’” Amy told him.

“Safe as in your mother’s arms. Notice I didn’t say his arms.” Grant nodded toward David, who was busy untying the sailplane. “I can recommend his flying, but the other’s up in the air.” He chuckled again before turning and walking toward a small red-and-white plane parked a ways in front of the sailplane.

“He’s going to attach the towline.” David lifted the top canopy of his plane and gestured toward the rear seat. “After you.”

Amy climbed in and closed the seat belt around her. When he was satisfied the towline was secure, David climbed into the front cockpit and fastened down the canopy.

“It’s an adventure,” Amy muttered under her breath, resisting the impulse to close her eyes as both planes began moving. When’s the last time you had anything approaching an adventure? she asked herself. She’d been living, as Grant put it, safe as in her mother’s arms, for so long she couldn’t even remember feeling adventurous.

Which reminded her David’s arms would hardly be safe. Another adventure she wasn’t ready for?

Before she realized what was happening, they were airborne. Though she could hear the drone of the tow plane’s motor drifting back to her, the noise level in the sailplane was nil. Nothing like taking off in one of the big commercial jets.

“I’ll drop the tow at about three thousand feet.” She could hear David clearly.

“How high will we go then?” she managed to ask after swallowing twice.

“As high as the thermal we find will take us. No higher than ten thousand feet, though, or we’d need oxygen.”

“How do you know where the thermals are?”

“Search and find. Watch the birds. Get lucky.”

As soon as David unhooked the towline, Grant’s plane turned away from them and disappeared from her view. Now there was no sound at all as they drifted. She decided not to ask how they were going to get back down with no motor. Glide, she supposed, feeling her fingers begin to hurt from clenching her hands together so tightly.

“Okay back there?” David asked.

“Fine.” She hoped she sounded more convinced than she felt. It wasn’t so much that she questioned his expertise. For some reason she trusted him, knowing he wouldn’t have asked her to join him unless he was sure it was safe. But the sailplane itself was new to her—how strange to be up in the air with no motor.

As if reading her thought, David said, “Think of the plane as if it was a sailboat. The boat in the water is driven by the wind in the sails, and up here our plane is driven by air currents under the wings.”

Amy examined the idea and began to relax. “I’ve done a lot of sailing in Lake Huron and around Mackinac Island,” she told him.

“Maybe you’ll have a chance to show me sometime. I’ve sailed, but I’m more a flier than a sailor.”

That just might be possible, since her brother’s father-in-law had a sailboat docked at his Lake Tahoe condo in Incline Village and Tahoe wasn’t all that far from Tourmaline. That is, if she and David managed to stay friends without going off the deep end—and she didn’t mean the pier. That kiss last night…

“Thermal coming up,” David said. “Here we go.”

She braced herself, but nothing really happened except the sailplane began to climb, rising in wide circles, reminding her of how the red-tailed hawks soared above her brother’s horse ranch in Carson Valley. She could see the peaks of the Sierras, some still snow-capped, in the distance. The lack of any noise did remind her of a sailboat, except on a boat things creaked. The plane itself didn’t make a sound.

Peaceful, and the sky, oh, so beautiful, hardly a cloud in sight. This must be how it feels to be a bird, she thought, admitting that she was actually enjoying herself.

Up and up they soared, she couldn’t believe how effortlessly. When, some time later, she realized the plane was descending, she sighed. “Does this mean we have to land?”

“The thermal’s shifting away from the field. It’s a long walk back if I don’t keep the plane fairly close to the field, so we can glide down pretty much where we went up.”

So she was right—they’d glide down. The thought didn’t bother her now. David knew what to do, just as she knew how to tack a sailboat into port.

After they’d glided back to earth, tied the plane down and were once again in the pickup headed for Tourmaline, Amy said, “Thanks for the experience—it was fun. Awesome, even. I might even go up again if you ask me.”

David glanced over at her and grinned. “Anytime.” She’d been a good sport. His ex-wife had refused to go up with him before they were married, and didn’t change her mind after she was his wife. Maybe that should have told him something. He understood now that Iris’s idea of flying involved riding in privately owned jets. Like Murdock’s.

“You ever been married?” he asked.

She blinked, obviously somewhat surprised at the abrupt change in subject. “No. If you want a reason, it’s because I like being in charge of my life myself.”

“As good a reason as any.”

She opened her mouth as though to speak, glanced at him and closed it.

He shrugged. “I brought it up, so go ahead and ask me why I’m divorced.”

“Gert sort of suggested you may have married the wrong woman.”

He half smiled. “She was blunter than that when she met Iris before the wedding. ‘Run and don’t look back’ was her advice to me.”

“You know, that’s almost exactly what I told my brother before he married his first wife. It was a disaster.”

“Which may be why you and Gert are both shrinks.”

“Your aunt never did marry, did she?”

“My mother told my sister and me Gert was engaged to an Air Force pilot in World War II who got shot down over Germany.”

Amy sighed. “And she never got over him. How romantic.”

He shot her a skeptical look. “I’m not saying my aunt never looked at another man. She just never married one.”

“Makes her human, but it’s still romantic. So you have a sister?”

“Diane. She’s a teacher in Hawaii. Unmarried.”

“Smart gal,” Amy quipped.

“Where does your brother live?”

“Russ? He has a horse ranch near here, in Carson Valley. That’s one of the reasons I answered your aunt’s ad for an associate. I wanted to be closer to him and my nephew and baby niece.”

David frowned. “He didn’t learn the first time, I take it.”

“Not all marriages are bad. Mari’s a great gal. They suit each other like you wouldn’t believe.”

“So you do believe in marriage as an institution.”

She nodded. “For some people. Not for me. I’m happier single.”

“I agree with that philosophy. Totally.”

“Ground rules for friends,” Amy said.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Maybe we ought to set a few others while we’re at it.”

He grinned at her. “Ones we can keep like the first rule or ones we can’t?”

She shook her head at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah—fatal attraction.”

“It’s chemistry,” she sputtered. “Hormones. Pheromones.”

“All of the above. But how does that stop me from wanting to pull over and haul you into my arms right now?”

He watched her start to bristle, then deliberately take a deep breath before speaking. “If we’re able to ignore it, the temptation will eventually fade.” Her tone was cool.

That raised his eyebrows. “If you believe that, I don’t know how you ever got to be a psychologist.”

“I can do anything I make my mind up to do,” she said coolly. “Including ignoring.”

She’d just laid down a challenge. David smiled. He hadn’t felt like taking up any challenges for more than a year, but he sure as hell meant to run with this one.

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