“Step on up, cowboy. I promise not to bite,” Dory said

She winked exaggeratedly at the men, who were lapping up her antics like thirsty dogs at the trough, rather than the kissing booth.

“Looks as if you’re doing just fine without my business,” Clint replied, caught off guard by the realization that he wanted to kiss her. Not a token peck in front of the crowd, but one of those slow wet kisses that made his blood simmer.

The knowledge shook him. When had he started thinking of Dory in those terms?

“Chicken,” she taunted, her glittering eyes locked with his as she plucked the tickets from the hand of her next customer.

Clint smiled. Oh, he planned on kissing her, all right. Later. Without an audience.

In fact, if she was willing, he planned on doing a whole lot more than kissing.

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

These past two years have been a time for me to flex my writing skills. I’ve contributed to an anthology with two other authors, written two time travels and this ENCOUNTERS story. Of all the departures from my usual path, I had anticipated that the ENCOUNTERS would have been the easiest. Not so.

What a roller-coaster ride Texas Heat was for me to write. I love ranch settings and fish-out-of-water stories, so no problems there. I’ve written in short format before, so again, no problem with that. The characters themselves are the ones who gave me trouble. It was too hard to let them go.

As different as heroines Dory, Lisa and Jessica are, I totally adored each one from the start. I thought they found the perfect heroes, and I wanted to stay with them on their journeys. And soon you’ll meet Kate Manning again…I’m plotting her story now, and since she’s best friends with Dory, Lisa and Jessica, I think I just may have to find out what the ladies are up to. Well, time to get back to work.

Enjoy!

Debbi Rawlins

Texas Heat
Debbi Rawlins

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debbi Rawlins lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl, who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until four years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college she spontaneously left home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, she returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.

Contents

Prologue

THE WILD, WILD WEST

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

WILD AT HEART

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

WILDFIRE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

Prologue

“I THINK THEY’RE HERE,” Maria, the Manning’s longtime housekeeper said as she stopped squeezing lemons and squinted into the sun streaming in through the window.

Excited to see her college friends, Kate Manning yanked off her apron and started out of the large crowded kitchen when she remembered her engagement ring sitting on the windowsill over the sink. She grabbed the one-karat diamond solitaire and smiled wryly at Maria, when the older woman shook her graying head in mock disapproval.

Kate had accepted the ring from her boyfriend of two years a month ago and had already misplaced it three times. No doubt a psychologist would have a field day with that information. Lately, Kate had been wondering herself what lay beneath the uncharacteristic absentmindedness. But not now. She didn’t have time to think about anything but the weekend’s festivities. Here at the Sugarloaf, her family’s ranch, the Fourth of July celebration was a Manning tradition that included neighboring ranches for fifty miles.

She slid the ring onto her finger as she hurried through the sprawling ranch house to fling open the front door. The black Town Car she’d sent to the Houston airport for her friends pulled into the circular driveway and stopped several feet from the wraparound porch.

Lisa Stevens stepped out of the car first, blond, beautiful, perfect figure, gorgeous hair, flawless skin…she hadn’t changed a bit since college. Or maybe Kate didn’t notice a difference because Lisa was the only one she’d seen since they’d graduated five years ago. A successful Chicago reporter, Lisa had tracked a lead to Dallas, and Kate had met her there for a night out. Naturally, Lisa had gotten her story. The woman could charm the fangs off a rattlesnake.

Dory Richards was right behind her, a direct contrast in torn, faded jeans, a baggy dark T-shirt and black running shoes. She looked as if she hadn’t brushed her long brown hair in a week, but then she’d always looked that way. A perpetual tomboy, even the few times she’d dated in college, Dory had never bothered with makeup or the latest clothing styles.

From the other side of the car, Jessica Mead rounded the hood of the car. Kate almost didn’t recognize her. The woman had totally transformed herself. Oozing sophistication and glamour, her hair was pulled into a fashionable French twist and her tailored sleeveless linen dress obviously hadn’t come off the rack. Absurdly high heels made her a good five inches taller than her college days of scruffy jeans and tennis shoes.

“Kate!” Dory noticed her first, rushing to her and nearly knocking her over in her enthusiasm. “You cut your hair.”

“Gosh, I did that over two years ago. I can’t believe it’s been five years. We swore we’d never let that much time go by.”

Lisa and Jessica joined them in a group hug, and then they dragged their luggage from the trunk of the car into the foyer. Lisa had a medium bag, Dory a small one, but Jessica looked as if she’d packed for a week.

“Very nice,” Lisa said, ducking her head to scan the formal living room off to the right. “Not exactly how I pictured a ranch house.”

Kate chuckled. “We never go in there. My mom insisted that we keep one room pristine for unexpected company.” Her parents had been gone for thirteen years now, but neither she nor her brothers had the heart to swap out the stuffy, impractical furniture. “Now, the rest of the house…well…just remember I have two brothers who live here.”

“Come on. Let’s see it.” Jessica held out her hand, and when Kate gave her a puzzled frown, Jessica sighed. “The ring, sweetie, show us the ring.”

“Oh.” Kate promptly held out her hand and wiggled her fingers, making the diamond sparkle.

“Wow, nice rock. They must pay school principals pretty damn well around here.” Lisa gave her a low five.

“I’ll say.” Jessica smiled. “He’s got my approval already.”

Dory teasingly rolled her eyes. “You’re so easy.”

“We are so not going there,” Lisa said, and everyone laughed, and then Jessica tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I’ve been working a lot lately.”

“You’re always working.” Lisa checked her watch. “What’s local time?”

Jessica looked at her in annoyed disbelief. “Look who’s talking.”

Dory shook her head. “Oh, here we go.”

“You guys must all be exhausted,” Kate cut in, still the peacemaker of the group. “The ninety-minute drive from Houston is bad enough, especially after a long plane ride.” She picked up one of Jessica’s bags. “Let me show you to your rooms. Take your time freshening up and then we’ll have some iced tea and talk.”

Impulsively, she set the bag back down and opened her arms for another group hug. It really was good to see them all together. Surely that was the reason for the emotion welling up inside of her. And nothing to do with misgivings.

THE WILD, WILD WEST

1

TWO DAYS AGO Dory Richards had been swatting at mosquitoes in the humid jungles of Cambodia. Today she was in hot, dry West Texas. Good thing she slept well on planes. With all the traveling she’d been doing for the past three years, she’d quickly learned how to cheat jet lag.

Anxious to make the most of her long weekend, she didn’t bother unpacking her suitcase. So her clothes would be a bit wrinkled. It wasn’t as if she’d stoop to ironing them. Besides, she’d brought only jeans and T-shirts and two denim blouses. This was a ranch, after all, and she couldn’t imagine people getting too dressed up for the Fourth of July festivities.

She’d almost made it out of the guest room she’d been assigned when she caught a glimpse of her hair in the dresser mirror. The scary mess stopped her, and she conceded to dragging a brush through the long unruly strands before gathering the whole thing into a sloppy ponytail.

As soon as she stepped into the hall she heard kitchen noises and followed the clang of pots and pans, and a stream of excited Spanish. She found her friend Kate in the middle of the chaos, an apron around her slender waist and a wooden spoon in one hand as she rattled on in Spanish to a young olive-skinned woman kneading dough at the island counter.

Three other women were in the large modern kitchen, one busy at the stainless steel stove, stirring something in a huge pot, and the other two shucking corn. They looked up, smiled at her and kept working.

“Need another pair of hands?” Dory asked.

Kate spun around, her mouth twisting wryly. “I just might have to take you up on that.” She set down the spoon on the mauve-and-cream granite countertop and reached around to loosen her apron. “I’d really hoped to be more organized before you and Lisa and Jessica arrived so that we could visit more.”

Dory stopped her. “Hey, don’t worry about us. I’m ready to roll up my sleeves.”

Kate shook her head. “I’m usually so much better at this. I should be. Our family has only hosted the event for fifty years now.” She sighed. “I’ve been too distracted.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” Dory grinned. “I can’t believe you’re gonna get married in six months.”

“Me, neither.” The fleeting look of panic on Kate’s face startled Dory. Kate slid a glance at the shorter, plump woman standing at the sink, suds up to her elbows and eyeing Kate with troubled black eyes. Kate smiled brightly and shrugged. “I had to do something to get us all together. Dory, this is Maria. She’s been with our family forever.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and then the woman went back to work and Dory studied Kate, wondering what the heck was going on. A couple of weeks ago Kate had called the gang, excited as all get out over her engagement. But something was wrong. “I can’t believe we let five years go by,” Dory said, frustrated. With a kitchen full of ears, now wasn’t the time for Dory to voice her concern. “Give me something to do,” she said. “Maybe later we’ll have time to talk.”

Kate’s eyebrows went up in amusement. “You ever learn how to cook?”

“Ah, well…there’s gotta be something else I can—”

The back door opened and everyone turned to look at the tall, broad-shouldered man who walked in, promptly removed his Stetson and shoved a hand through his longish dark hair. Well over six feet, he wore snug jeans, cowboy boots and a killer smile. “Morning, ladies.”

The young woman kneading dough blushed to the roots of her raven hair.

“Clint Manning, you better have wiped off your boots, or so help me—”

“Now, Katie, would I mess up your kitchen?” He looked past Kate and winked at Dory. “You must be one of my sister’s college friends she’s been all fired up to see.”

Dory didn’t miss the way he’d sized her up. Obviously he didn’t remember her. They’d met briefly back East at the graduation ceremony. Though Dory wasn’t the type of woman men usually did remember, a fact that didn’t bother her any. He, on the other hand, wasn’t a man many women forgot, no matter how short the meeting, and she suspected he knew it.

She moved toward him, her hand out. “Dory Richards,” she said, pumping his hand with too much enthusiasm, a bad habit that her boss had twice suggested she work on.

Surprise flickered in his green eyes, and then his mouth curved in a devilish smile. “I like a woman with a firm grip,” he said, and then exaggeratedly flexed his hand.

Kate swatted him with the apron she’d removed from around her waist. “You guys met at graduation, remember?”

“Did we?” Dory smiled innocently.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Clint nodded, clearly lying. “Nice to see you again.” He looked back at Kate as he opened the stainless steel refrigerator door. “What’s for lunch? I’m starving.”

“Lunch?” Kate glared at him. “Does it look as if we have time to make lunch?”

He frowned at her. “Hey, I’m not asking anyone to wait on me. I just figured this might be my last chance before the boys from the Double R get here with—”

“Oh, my God.” Kate covered her mouth with her hand and briefly closed her eyes.

“What?”

Kate squinted bleakly at her brother. “You’re going to kill me.”

“You did remember to order the lumber, right?” He rubbed his right temple, looking as if he already knew he wouldn’t like her answer.

She glanced at the round wall clock over the stove. “You still have time to pick it up. Take the trailer.”

Clint groaned. “That’s over a two-hour round trip, and that’s not counting loading.”

“I’m sorry. Dory will go with you.” Kate met her eyes, and Dory nodded. “She can help.”

“That’s a lot of lumber. I’m not taking a girl—” Clint pressed his lips together, his gaze fixed on his sister.

Dory grinned. “Yes?”

He slid her a guilty glance, and then grabbed an apple from a fruit bowl on the counter. “I’ll rustle up one of the boys from the back pasture to go with me.”

Kate sighed. “They’re all busy and we really don’t have time.”

Dory plucked a ripened pear from the bowl. “Come on, cowboy, I’ll try not to show you up.”

CLINT TOOK HIS OWN TRUCK, knowing he’d have to use the extended bed. After checking the trailer in the rearview mirror, he pulled out of the private dirt road that led to the family ranch and onto the highway. Beside him on the bench seat, Dory stretched out her long, jean-clad legs and munched her pear. Above her knee the faded denim was torn, matching another tear he’d noticed below her rear pocket. Nothing to do with making a fashion statement, that was for sure. Even her right hem was frayed where it skimmed a battered tennis shoe.

No, she wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, he’d have to admit. She’d jumped right in to help hook up the trailer, and loaded the ramps and straps by herself. She hadn’t even waited for him to toss her a pair of gloves. Still, he felt weird letting a woman do physical work beside him. His sister was no flower herself, but even Kate stuck to her duties in the house.

“What’s the lumber we’re picking up for?” Dory asked, using the back of her wrist to wipe pear juice from the corner of her mouth. Her ponytail had loosened and her hair was all over the place.

Clint smiled at her lack of self-consciousness. “Tomorrow’s game booths.”

“Game booths? Like what?”

“The usual…tic-tac-toe, ring toss, that sort of thing.”

“Kind of like a carnival.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“We have a traveling carnival in Hawaii, but I haven’t been in years.”

Surprised, he looked over at her. “That’s where you’re from?”

“Yep, born and raised. My parents moved there during the free-love sixties era from Kansas. We lived in a commune until I was about thirteen.”

“You’re serious?”

She shrugged. “It’s not much different than you and Kate and your brother living here on the ranch all your life.”

He saw a major difference but no point in arguing. “How did you end up at a college on the East Coast?”

“A friend from high school talked me into it. I almost transferred out because I hated the snow. How about you?”

“I didn’t go far. University of Houston for four years. I liked coming home on weekends and working on the ranch with my brother, Joe.”

She shifted, bending one leg so that she faced him. “What did you study?”

“Business, believe it or not.”

“That is a surprise.”

Clint shrugged. “It’s not like I wanted to work in an office. I figured I might learn something that would make the ranch more efficient.”

“Did you?”

He gritted his teeth, annoyed that she was probing areas better left alone. “Yep.”

“So what kind of changes did you make?”

“Why all the questions? You writing a book?”

At his terse tone, she stiffened. “Jeez Louise, I thought we were making small talk, passing the time, being friendly.” She sniffed and twisted around to face the road again. “We don’t have to talk. We could listen to the radio if you want. Or I could sing to you. But I warn you, I can’t carry a tune worth a damn.”

He exhaled loudly. “Sorry, it’s kind of a touchy subject.” He felt the weight of her stare but she didn’t comment, which oddly encouraged him to add, “My brother, Joe, he wasn’t interested in making any changes.”

“Ah. He’s the oldest, right?”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Clint nodded. “He pretty much took over the ranch after our parents died. Kate was only fourteen and I was going into my senior year in high school.”

“He couldn’t have been much older himself.”

“He’d just finished his sophomore year at UCLA.”

“Wow!”

That was all Clint had to say on the subject. He knew he owed Joe a lot. It hadn’t been easy for him to drop out of school, take on the ranch and two resentful teenagers. Neither Kate nor Clint would’ve made it to college if it weren’t for Joe. But sometimes it was hard for Clint to keep his mouth shut when it came to the old-school way the ranch was still run. “So what do you do?”

“I’m a forensic anthropologist.”

He waited until he’d safely passed a horse trailer parked on the shoulder of the highway and then glanced her way. She was tightening her ponytail and with her arms raised, her T-shirt clung to her breasts. Odd he hadn’t noticed before how full and round they were. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“I study remains mostly.”

“Like bones?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, like bones.”

“Man, that would creep me out.”

“Wimp.”

He grunted but ignored her teasing. Figured she had a job like that. “So what? You work with law enforcement?”

“Actually, I’ve spent the last six months in Vietnam and Cambodia, identifying remains of missing soldiers.” The teasing tone was gone. Her voice had softened. “It’s so sad that families have had to wait this long to find out what happened to their missing loved ones from the war.”

“That’s true, all right,” he agreed quietly. “They’re lucky they have people like you to finally give them some closure.”

“Yeah, well, the findings are always kind of bittersweet, you know?”

“I can imagine.” His gaze went to her hands. Her nails were uneven but clean, the skin badly scraped on two of her knuckles. He understood now why she wasn’t like Kate’s other two friends. They seemed like nice enough women, pretty, well put together, his type actually. Stupid when he stopped to think about it, but the high maintenance ones were the kind that attracted him. Maybe that’s why he’d never entertained the thought of marriage. Too damn much work.

“Hey, look.” She straightened and pointed to an eagle soaring low against the cloudless blue sky. “Beautiful, isn’t he?”

Clint slowed down so he could appreciate the grace of the bird, and grinned. “How do you know it’s a he?”

“Guys have to try harder to attract a mate. That’s why males in most species have all the stunning feathers and bright colors,” she said matter-of-factly. “When it’s time to mate, girls just have to show up.”

He chuckled. She did have a point.

2

DORY WAS SURPRISED when they turned down a dirt road under an arching sign that announced the Double R Ranch. It had seemed more like twenty minutes instead of an hour since they’d left the Manning’s place, which was quite a spread as it turned out…about two thousand acres. Mostly flat pastureland, much of it fenced off for grazing cattle. For the entire ride, that pretty much had been all there was to see, more grazing land. Although she hadn’t focused on the scenery half as much as she had the man sitting beside her.

She liked watching his hands as they confidently gripped the wheel. They were large and tanned, the back of his fingers sprinkled sparingly with crisp dark hair. Rolled-back sleeves exposed broad, big-boned wrists and muscled forearms, and his blue cotton shirt did nothing to hide his well-formed biceps.

He obviously hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and she wondered if that omission had been deliberate. Had he tried for that perfect, rugged, cowboy look? No, he seemed like a man who enjoyed the outdoors and wasn’t afraid to sweat. Sure, she worked with a lot of big, muscular guys like that on digs, but unlike them, Clint had a lithe grace that had caught her attention earlier when he hooked up the trailer.

Weird, because she wasn’t normally attracted to a man based on physical attributes, even one as good-looking as Clint. In fact, she tended to ignore the head-turners. She figured they got enough female attention.

The road to the Double R had obviously once been graveled and graded but not well maintained, and the truck dipped and bounced for nearly a mile before a large white house and outbuildings came into view. Good thing. Her fanny had had enough, and that was saying something since she seemed to spend half her life in a Jeep lately.

“I hope some of the hands are close by to help load the lumber.” Clint pulled the truck up to the front of the barn. “Kate was supposed to have called ahead.”

“I don’t see anybody.”

“The Reynoldses own this place, but times have been kind of tough for them lately,” he said grimly. “They lost a good deal of their herd to cattle rustlers last year and had to lay off half their men.”

“Rustlers? You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was.”

“That sounds like something out of the old west.”

“Darlin’, out here, it still is the old west at times.” He opened his door. “That’s why I told Joe that we’ve got to start looking at—” He cut himself off, shaking his head, and then slid out from behind the wheel.

Dory scrambled out on her side. “What did you tell him?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.” At his annoyed expression, she shrugged a shoulder. “Look, I’m just curious. What was your idea?”

The way he set his jaw told her it was time to leave the subject alone. He picked up his hat, pushed a hand through his hair in obvious frustration, and then reset the Stetson on his head. “I’m gonna go check if anyone’s in the barn.”

She leaned a hip against the truck and watched him walk away, his strides long and purposeful. Was he in a hurry to get away from her probing questions? Or worried about getting the load of lumber back in time to start working on the game booths? Probably both, she thought, sighing.

It wasn’t that she was being nosy. She didn’t have brothers or sisters, and although she understood sibling dynamics on a textbook level, she lacked the human experience. She did know that Kate adored both of her brothers, and that the older one had become more a father figure over the years. But Clint was older than Kate, about thirty was Dory’s guess, so he probably didn’t appreciate the perception of being kept under Joe’s thumb.

Still, Joe obviously knew what he was doing to keep a ranch that large profitable. Dory wisely kept the observation to herself.

She shaded her eyes and gazed around the Double R. The place was spread out with a barn, what looked like a bunkhouse, stables and a corral where three horses grazed. But, unlike the Manning’s ranch, there was no buzz of activity. Then again, she knew some of the goings-on had to do with the big July Fourth get-together.

Clint emerged from the barn, solo, his expression grim, and she had a feeling they had a ton of work ahead of them. She didn’t mind. She just hoped he had a spare pair of gloves. Getting dirty was one thing, but getting pricked by splinters was something else.

“The lumber is stacked behind the barn,” he said, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “But we’re not gonna get much help loading. Part of their south fence came down last night in the wind and most of the men are rounding up strays.”

“No problem. We should be able to handle it. But I’ll need some gloves.”

He pulled open the driver’s door, eyeing her with amusement. “I deliver you back crippled and Kate will take a branding iron to me.”

“Oh, please.” Dory tightened her ponytail, preparing for the work ahead. She might be useless in the kitchen, but out here…this was her world. “I bet I load as many boards as you do.”

One side of his mouth hiked up. “Get in. We’ll drive around to the back.”

She did as he asked, smug in the knowledge that she was going to surprise the heck out of him. She was in better shape than she looked. Often she’d hiked uphill for miles to get to a dig site, and then spent another two hours with shovel in hand. Loading lumber would be a vacation.

“Check the glove box,” Clint said as he steered the truck around the barn. “There might be some in there. If not, I might have a pair in my toolbox in the back.”

She opened the compartment, which was jammed with the truck manual, a package of beef jerky, binoculars, a couple of maps and a small box of condoms. Quickly she slammed the door and stared straight ahead as they rounded the barn.

“Nothing, huh?” He pulled the truck to a stop. “If we don’t find a pair, you can use mine.”

“A callus or two won’t kill me.” She jerked on the door handle, anxious to jump out, annoyed with herself for being so flustered. So what if he kept condoms in his glove box? Good to know he was responsible. Although it didn’t matter to her. Why should it?

“Wait a minute,” he said, and slid an arm across the seat back behind her shoulders.

Her chest tightened as he slowly turned his face toward hers, his warm moist breath brushing the side of her jaw. She blinked, frozen, not knowing what to do, before finally giving in and meeting his eyes. He flashed her a grin and then twisted around to look out the rear window as he backed the truck and trailer toward the pile of lumber.

She let out a whoosh of air, and before he cut the engine, she jumped out of the truck, willing the heat that stung her cheeks to subside. Had she totally gone out of her mind? She seriously needed some rest. How could she actually have believed for a second that he’d been about to kiss her?

“You okay?” He’d gotten out and come around the back of the trailer to stare at her, his green gaze warm with concern.

“Fine.” She looked away and nodded toward the daunting stacks of lumber. “That’s it?”

Clint chuckled. “That’s enough.” He lowered the truck’s tailgate, hopped up on the bed and went to a large metal toolbox anchored down behind the cab. After rooting around inside he produced a pair of tan leather gloves that he tossed to her.

She tried them on. They were too big but better than nothing.

He gathered the heavy-duty tie-down straps and bungee cords they’d brought and jumped off the bed. “I’m thinking I’ll load and you should get up there and make sure the boards stay stacked until we can strap them down.”

Dory smiled wryly, knowing that he was trying to keep her task light. “How about we both load and then worry about securing them?”

He studied her for a moment. “Hugh is the Reynoldses’ foreman. He’s the only one in the barn. If he sees you working, he’s gonna want to come out and help. The guy turned seventy last month and has a bad back.”

“Then quit talking and let’s get this done before he sees me.” She adjusted her gloves and tried to pick up four boards at once, but quickly found that her limit was three.

Clint mumbled something she couldn’t hear, and then more clearly said, “You stick to the trailer, and I’ll load the truck.”

She didn’t argue. With the trailer being lower to the ground it was easier for her to stack the boards and she’d be better able to keep up with his pace. On the negative side, given the distance between them, the capacity to ogle him as he worked was far greater. Unfortunately, she found the temptation hard to ignore with the way the worn denim of his jeans molded his leans hips and appealing backside.

Though after forty minutes working under the broiling afternoon sun, her thoughts pretty much narrowed to finishing the job. She was tired and thirsty and only sheer stubbornness drove her to keep picking up boards and swinging them onto the trailer. The steady rhythm she’d engaged was hypnotic, and when Clint called out for her to take a break, he startled her. She spun toward his voice, the movement dizzyingly fast, and she felt her body sway.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yep, fine.” She grabbed the trailer railing for support.

He pulled off his gloves and got them each a bottle of water from the truck’s cab. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She fumbled with the cap and then greedily downed two large gulps so fast that it made her chest hurt.

“Take it easy,” he said, touching her arm. “You shouldn’t let yourself get that thirsty.”

She nodded. “I know better.” The warmth of his skin on hers did nothing to help clear her head, so she moved her arm away.

Confusion flickered in his gaze and he seemed about to say something when they heard the pounding of hooves coming in their direction.

“Clint!”

Dory squinted into the sunlight and saw a woman riding toward them, her pale blond hair streaming behind her in the breeze. Her face flushed, the blonde reined in the beautiful brown-and-white horse, stopping the animal only several feet from where they stood. She leaped down and rushed to throw her arms around Clint.

His arms instantly came up to lift her in the air. “Why, Sara Lynn, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, grinning as he swept her in a circle before setting her back on the ground. “Every time I think you can’t possibly get any prettier, you go and prove me dead wrong.”

Laughing, she swatted his arm. “You always say that.”

“Only because it’s the God’s honest truth.”

The young woman groaned good-naturedly and smiled at Dory, curiosity sparkling in her blue eyes. “Hi, I’m Sara.”

“Dory Richards,” she said, extending her hand.

Sara accepted her offering, briefly wincing when Dory squeezed too hard.

Mentally kicking herself, Dory promptly released her. She tried not to look at Clint but caught the amused curve of his mouth out of the corner of her eye.

“When did you come home?” he asked Sara.

“Just yesterday. I couldn’t miss the Fourth of July shindig, now could I?” She looped an arm through his, her cheeks tinted a becoming pink and gazed up at him with undisguised adoration.

Feeling like a fifth wheel, Dory turned back to loading the trailer. The younger woman couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty, but she clearly had a mile-wide crush on Clint. Probably just his type, too, a real girlie girl. Even after having been out riding, her makeup was perfect, her hair tousled to perfection by the breeze, and for heaven’s sake, her jeans still had a crease in them.

“Hey, Dory. Relax a minute.” Clint took the boards from her hands. “You’re going to get overheated.”

“I’ll make lemonade,” Sara offered. “Come on up to the house.”

He touched a finger to the brim of his Stetson and nudged it upward, and then pulled a bandanna from his back pocket and mopped his forehead. “Thanks anyway, but we don’t have time.”

“Grover and Lenny are in the north pasture. I could go get them to help.”

“Nah, we’ll be done in a half hour or so.” Clint’s gaze narrowed on Dory. “You sore yet?”

She snorted. “I’m not the one who needed a break.”

Grinning, he stuffed his bandanna back in his pocket. “Seriously, I don’t want you to push too hard and end up out of commission all weekend.”

“Oh, please.” Dory adjusted her gloves.

“Hey, I have a vested interest in returning you alive. Kate will hurt me if I don’t.”

“Ah, I see. Nothing altruistic about your motives.”

Sara’s dramatic sigh netted her the attention she wanted. “I wish I could help but I don’t think I’d be much use.” She daintily put out her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Not with these nails.” They were long, fake and pale pink, the tips sparkling with red, white and blue glitter.

Clint’s patronizing smile appeared unnoticed by Sara. She merely beamed when he picked up one of her hands and brought the back to his lips for a quick kiss.

“These hands are a work of art. Wouldn’t want to mess them up,” he said, winking at her, before pulling on his gloves.

Sara giggled. “You better save me the first dance tomorrow night,” she said, while backing toward her horse. “I mean it, Clint Manning. I call dibs and I have a witness.”

“Wouldn’t dream of dancing with anyone else first, Sara Lynn.” He’d already started back to work.

“What dance?” Dory asked, stooping beside him to pick up a load of lumber. She hated dances. Didn’t even know how to dance. In high school, proms had been her worst nightmare.

“What dance, she asks.” Shaking his head in mock disapproval, he slid a stack of boards onto the pile, and then gave her a cocky wink. “Looks like you’re in for an initiation this weekend.”

3

THANKS TO DORY’S HARD WORK, they finished quicker than Clint had anticipated, and then headed back to the Sugarloaf. Still, making the unexpected pickup had put him behind schedule, what with the booths to build and the tables and chairs to set up for the barbecue tomorrow night. And since people tended to show up early in the morning, it looked as if he and the boys would be working until well after sundown. He really hated to put the crew out like that because it didn’t seem right to work them so hard that they’d be too tuckered out to enjoy the festivities, but if they wanted to be ready in time, he didn’t have much choice.

As if she’d read his mind, Dory asked, “What’s next?”

“For you, I suggest a warm bath. Soak those muscles you used today.” He looked over at her dirt-streaked face, cheeks flushed from exertion, and caught her eye-roll. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she would be sore later. “You were a big help.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Build the game booths.”

“Today?”

“I guarantee you we’ll have three dozen kids show up bright and early tomorrow morning, all of them raring to go.”

“I knew the party started tomorrow but I assumed the afternoon barbecue kicked it off. How many people are you expecting?”

“Generally between one-seventy and two hundred.”

“Good grief.”

He chuckled. “It’s not so bad. They don’t show up all at once. Except maybe for the rodeo and fireworks on Sunday, which is the last night.”

“Is Kate in charge of providing all the food?”

“Yep, but don’t worry, you saw how well she delegates.” They both smiled at that, and then he added, “You okay with making another stop?”

“Sure. I don’t know that we’ll have room to pick up anything else, though.” She twisted around to glance out the rear window at the overloaded trailer.

The way her T-shirt stretched over her breasts caught Clint’s attention, and he drove right through a deep pothole. The truck bucked and pulled to the left. Reflexively, he threw out an arm to protect her from flying forward and came into contact with the soft round objects of his distraction. He quickly retreated but not before he momentarily lost control of the wheel.

“Look out.”

A large dead tree partially blocked the road. He sharply turned the wheel but it was too late. The left front tire dipped into a rut and struck something hard and immobile. He managed to pull the truck back onto the road but skidded slightly, and he knew the rear tire had met the same fate as the front one. While applying the brakes, his gaze shot to the rearview mirror. The trailer had survived, although it had come a foot away from jackknifing.

His eyes met hers. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “You?”

Grunting an affirmative, totally disgusted with himself, he threw the gearshift into Park.

“What happened?”

He jerked open the door, a string of curses springing to mind, but he bit them back as he climbed out.

“It feels like we lost the front tire,” she said, and scrambled out after him.

He’d consider himself lucky if it were the only one. He suspected the rear tire had taken a hit, too. Crouching down, he surveyed the damage. The front tire was already flat, and he quickly spotted the gash in the rubber that had caused the trouble.

“Damn.” Dory had come to stand beside him and stared at the ruined wheel. “I hate to tell you but the back tire is losing air, too. But it seems to be a slow leak so it could just be a small puncture.”

Clint really had to work at holding on to his temper. None of this was her fault. The blame was totally his, and she didn’t deserve the sarcasm simmering inside him. He pushed to his feet. “I hope you’re right so we don’t have to call the ranch for a tow. Everyone is busy enough.”

“You have more than one spare?”

“Nope, but if it is a small puncture I have some of that spray stuff to use for a temporary fix.”

“Give me the jack and I’ll get started on the front tire while you check out the rear.”

Clint barked out a laugh. “You’re offering to change the tire?”

She blinked, clearly surprised at first, and then she narrowed her eyes. “And if I am?”

“You go sit in the shade and sip some water. I’ll take care of this.”

“Oh, brother.”

“Are we gonna stand here arguing, or can we try to get back before the barbecue starts tomorrow?” He stalked to the back of the truck, suddenly and painfully aware that although the spare was accessible under the bed, the spray can was in his toolbox buried under a mountain of lumber.

“Don’t get huffy with me. I wasn’t the one driving like an idiot.”

“Son of a—” He cut himself off, but vented his frustration by slamming an open hand on the side of the truck. Pain shot up his arm.

“What?”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the load of lumber. No way around it. He was going to have to move half the boards over to the other side to get to the toolbox. The hell of it was he knew better than to find himself in this predicament. Now he’d sucked Dory into the mess.

She didn’t say another word. As if she sensed the problem, she got down on her haunches and worked at dislodging the spare stowed under the bed. Ashamed of himself, he hunkered down beside her, and took her by the shoulders.

Her upper arms were slim, but taut and lightly muscled under his grip, which didn’t surprise him considering how hard she’d worked beside him. What did catch him off guard was his reluctance to release her, the sudden itch to run his palms down her arms and take her hands in his. Resisting the urge, he gently forced her aside and got to work. He figured he’d done enough harm for one day.

WHEN THEY RETURNED to the Sugarloaf Ranch, Dory offered to help unload the lumber even though she knew he’d turn her down. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she’d regretted them. There were two guys standing around, waiting to help, but no, she had to prove she was as good as any man, prove that she could keep up with Clint. God, when was she going to learn to back off and quit acting like a dope.

She stood off to the side, out of the way, grinding her teeth. She was fit and buff and as capable as most men when it came to physical labor. That was something to be proud of, not something to be kicking herself over. So what that she wasn’t like Lisa or Kate or Jessica? Or most other women, for that matter. She was a tomboy, and always had been. That never bothered her, so why second-guess herself now?

Oh, heck, she knew why. She’d been a bully about changing the tire and hurt Clint’s pride. Did she really have to prove she could change a tire faster than he could? No wonder he’d barely spoken to her the rest of the way back.

“You don’t need to hang around,” he said gruffly as the last of the lumber was unloaded and he walked past her. “Go grab a shower while there’s still hot water.”

She dabbed self-consciously at her smudged cheeks. “Are you going to start building the booths now?”

“That’s the plan.”

She half skipped to catch up to his longer strides as he headed toward the barn. “I’m pretty good with a hammer.”

He slid her an exasperated glance. “I don’t doubt it for a minute.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” She cut herself short when she noticed that one of the men who’d helped unload was watching them with avid interest.

Clint whipped off his hat and smacked it against the front of his thigh. Without the brim shading his eyes, they looked incredibly green in the fading sunlight. “Kate might need some help in the kitchen. As far as the thing with the tire, you won fair and square. You beat me by a full three minutes.” He bowed at the waist and extended his arm with a flourish. “My hat’s off to you.” His gaze staying level with hers, he added in a grouchy voice, “Did you catch all that, Curly?”

The short, paunchy, older man who’d been watching them quickly averted his eyes and hastened toward the corral where the other guy had gone back to working with a mustang.

“Look, I can’t cook worth beans, okay? I won’t be of any use to Kate.”

Amusement hovered at the corners of his mouth. “Can you boil water?”

“With instructions, maybe.”

“Hell, then maybe we ought to keep you out of the kitchen.”

“Trust me. That would serve everyone well.”

“Come on then,” he said grudgingly. “I won’t deny I could use the help.”

She followed him into the massive barn that housed all sorts of tack, saddles and harnesses. Bales of hay were stacked in a maze, so high that she couldn’t see where they were going. Hovering above the smell of leather and hay, the strong aroma of brewing coffee teased her nostrils. The air was warm and sticky, and hot coffee was the last thing that should appeal to her, but her mouth watered.

“The booths really aren’t hard to put up,” Clint said as he led her to a small shed tucked in the corner of the barn. “We don’t care about them being too fancy. It’s a simple frame with a canvas roof, enough for some shade.”

“I’m surprised you don’t keep everything ready to assemble each year.”

“Normally we do, but the storage shed leaked last fall and most of the boards and two-by-fours suffered too much water rot.” He pulled on a string and a bare light-bulb flooded the small area with light. “Let’s see, we need nails, hammers, a staple gun…”

Dory had stepped inside with him before she realized what little space was allowed by the floor-to-ceiling shelves and two large generators. She’d started backing out when he turned to her, his arm brushing her breast, his face so close to her face that his breath mingled with hers.

“Sorry,” she murmured, bumping into the door frame behind her.

“My fault,” he said, but didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. His gaze lowered to her mouth. Automatically she moistened her lips. “If you’ve changed your mind and would rather take that shower, I won’t hold it against you.”

Was that a hint? She sniffed. Oh, God, she’d been sweating like a pig earlier.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Laughing, he caught her wrist when she tried to flee. “We’re in the same boat, honey. I’m not in a position to throw stones. Besides, you smell pretty good to me.”

The teasing glint that had lit his eyes a second ago darkened, as his gaze once again rested on her lips. His hold on her wrist grew a fraction tighter, and she felt the pad of his thumb at her speeding pulse.

Dory held her breath and moved back a step.

Clint noisily cleared his throat. He dropped her wrist, and turned back to gathering supplies. “We’ve got seven booths to set up. Actually, eight if you count the ticket booth but if we’re short on time we can set up a chair and beach umbrella for the seller. That’s worked in the past. Curly and two other guys who’ve been mending fences are gonna help so we should finish before sundown.”

She moved back farther so that she was standing just outside the doorway. The meager distance she’d put between them did little to slow down her racing heart. For one crazy second she’d actually thought again that he might kiss her. Which was ridiculous, of course. She’d merely been in his way. “You sell tickets?”

“About five years ago Kate had the idea of turning the games into a fund-raiser for the no-kill animal shelter in town. We’ve raised quite a bit of money since then,” he said in a tone so normal it confirmed that she’d been insane about the potential kiss.

“What a great idea. Kate would come up with something like that. Want me to take some of those?”

He handed her three hammers and a level. “By the way, where are the other two who came with you?”

“No idea. I haven’t seen them since we got here.” Dory grinned. “But I wouldn’t be looking to recruit them if I were you. I doubt either one knows which end of the hammer to use.”

He chuckled. “Nah, I remember them. I didn’t figure they would. Here. Can you manage this, too?”

She accepted the sack of nails he handed her, still feeling the sting of his remark. He’d remembered Lisa and Jessica but not her. The thing was, Dory had no business being surprised or upset. They were both gorgeous, and she’d always been just plain tomboy Dory.

4

AS LOATH AS SHE WAS to admit it, Dory was exhausted. She was sweaty and hungry and a gallon of water sounded good about now. The amount of physical labor she’d subjected herself to was taxing enough, but coupled with the eight-hour red-eye flight she’d taken to get here, and the short time since she’d returned from Cambodia, she knew she was close to her limit.

She stepped back from the structure she’d just completed, and set down her hammer before her arm fell off. Anyway, Clint really didn’t need her anymore. Nearly a dozen men had returned from the pastures for their evening meal, but seeing that the project hadn’t been completed, they’d all chipped in. Most of them weren’t that handy with a hammer so the job still took longer than it should have, but finally, there was only one booth left to erect.

Picking up the bottle of water that Kate had brought her earlier, she took a long, cool sip and then scanned the field beyond the booths to the carousel that had been delivered an hour ago. The entire area had been designated the kids’ zone, complete with giant waterslide, an inflated fun house with a trampoline-type bottom and a section cordoned off for pony rides. She saw Curly and Tom and Silas, whom she’d met earlier, but she couldn’t find Clint.

“We’re done. Chuck and Tom will finish the last booth.” His voice came from behind her.

“Good.” She started to turn but then stopped to stretch a kink out of her neck. “Gotta admit, I was ready to call it—”

He’d taken off his shirt. His smooth bronzed chest and broad shoulders gleamed with moisture, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what she was about to say. She tried to look away, but instead her gaze swept to the low ride of his jeans on his lean, narrow hips. His belly was flat and ridged with just enough muscle to make the view interesting.

She forced her attention upward before he noticed she was staring, and was relieved to find him using his shirt to wipe his face. She took another quick sip of water to relieve her parched throat.

He took a final swipe with his shirt, met her eyes and smiled. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Ah, nothing.” She shrugged. “Just that I was going to throw in the towel.”

He nodded. “Kate reminded me that you’d flown all night. I apologize for using and abusing you.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. I was happy to help.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to the house. Supper should be ready soon.”

She really wished he’d put his shirt on because she could hardly trust herself not to stare like a starstruck schoolgirl. Instead, she concentrated on the pinkish-orange clouds that streaked across the slate-blue sky, courtesy of the sun sitting low on the horizon behind them. “What time does it get dark?”

“In about half an hour. We cut it close, though we could’ve strung up some lights if we had to.” They walked close together, their shoulders sometimes touching, and she tried to ignore the little shiver of pleasure the contact produced. “Tomorrow morning we’ll set up the two tents and picnic tables,” Clint continued. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“I can help.”

He snorted. “I think the boys and I can handle it. Only a few hands have regular chores assigned tomorrow. The rest will be free to help out with the party if they’re needed.”

“I should be of some use. It seems I’m much better with a hammer than most of you.”

He stopped, and gave her a long, drawn-out look of astonishment. “You are really something else, you know that?”

“It’s nothing to be shamed of. Just because you have a penis doesn’t automatically make you a carpenter.” She shrugged when his look of disbelief turned into a glare. “I’m sure you guys are probably great at rounding up cattle or whatever it is you normally do. I volunteered with Habitat for Humanity for two summers and learned how to use a hammer.”

His jaw set, he again started toward the house, balling his shirt in a tight fist and squeezing. She had a feeling he’d have preferred it were her neck.

“Nothing personal,” she said, hurrying to keep up with his accelerating pace. “But I am sorry if I hurt your feelings. Sometimes I forget how fragile the male ego is. Not just in humans. You’ll find in every species that—”

He stopped abruptly and faced her. “Can’t you for once act like a girl?”

She blinked, trying not to show how much his words had stung. It didn’t matter that regret immediately flooded his features. Or that she was well aware of her lack of feminine appeal.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He passed a hand over his face, briefly covering his mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s okay. Really. I get it.”

“No, I was rude.” He touched her arm. “You were great today, and you don’t deserve me being a—”

“A pig,” she finished sweetly.

He tugged down the brim of his hat so that she could no longer see his eyes. “Not what I was gonna say, but yeah…I guess that’s appropriate.”

Damn right. “Forget it. Like you said, dinner is probably waiting.” She didn’t care. Not really, she thought as she continued toward the house. It was a beautiful evening. She was thrilled to be able to spend some time with the gang after not seeing them for so long. They’d have a nice dinner, and then gab until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. Just like the old days. This was their weekend. She refused to give Clint another thought.

BY THE TIME IT WAS Dory’s turn to use the bathroom she shared with Jessica, the small room was hot and steamy, and for a second she felt as if she were back in Cambodia. Except in the jungle there was no hot shower, no privacy and no worrying about how you looked when you finally sat down to fill your belly.

She liked her job, and the guys she worked with were all top-notch in their field, as well as being a good bunch to hang out with. But she wondered if the prolonged isolation she endured wasn’t skewing her view of social correctness.

After shampooing and rinsing her hair, she wanted nothing more than to linger under the soothing warm water, but that would make her late for dinner. So she dried off, wrapped herself in the luxuriously plush pink towel, and stood in front of the fogged mirror. Perfect. She didn’t want to have to look at her reflection, anyway.

Annoyed with her attitude, she grabbed the comb from her carry-on and dragged the teeth through her wet hair. Normally she’d let it air-dry but she knew darn well Jessica and Lisa would be getting gussied up tonight. Normally that wouldn’t matter to Dory, but she didn’t want to seem uncouth, either. After all, they were adults, not indifferent college kids anymore, she thought as her gaze rested on the makeup Jessica had left in her corner of the white-tiled countertop.

Dory had tried eyeliner and eye shadow once. The experience had been a total disaster. She generally stuck to mascara, and only when she remembered that she had a tube in her backpack. Luckily, with the amount of sun exposure she received from working outside, she never worried about foundation or blush.

Still staring at the intimidating assortment of cosmetics, she nibbled her lower lip. It wouldn’t hurt to take another stab at it. Jessica wouldn’t care if she used any of this stuff, in fact, she’d probably be elated. She’d always tried to get Dory to make more of her appearance.

Can’t you for once act like a girl?

His words reverberated in her head like the grating sound of a bird’s screech bouncing off canyon walls.

Why was she letting his thoughtless remark get to her? If anything, she shouldn’t have let him off so easily. She should’ve made him define girl and watch him squirm. So what if Dory wasn’t a Sara Lynn. She wouldn’t apologize for that. For the past two years she’d worked exclusively with men, the only woman for hundreds of miles and still hadn’t sparked an interest in any of them. She never questioned it. Never gave it a thought. Until now.

Was she really that hopeless?

Furiously, she wiped the mirror until there was a small area clear enough to see her reflection, and then started grabbing the various compacts of eye shadow, liner sticks and lip pencils. This was going to be tricky, drying her hair and deftly applying the unfamiliar makeup in a short period of time. Briefly she thought about calling for Jessica who Dory could hear moving about in the adjoining room, but she wasn’t up to the inevitable bombardment of questions. Until this morning, they hadn’t seen her for five years. Maybe if she showed up wearing makeup, they’d believe she’d changed.

She went to work, first drying her hair, though leaving it damp, and then tackling the face paint. She felt clumsy but worked quickly and within minutes, blinked at the garish face that stared back. Her confidence crumpled. The black around her eyes made her look like a raccoon, and the gray shadow resembled one of those goth chicks that hung around the mall. The pale pink lipstick was okay, but that was it. Pretty sad.

So much for acting like a girl. Disappointed yet annoyed with her foolishness, she plucked two tissues from the box and started to wipe her face, careful not to end up with black streaks on her cheeks. By the time she was done, something miraculous had happened. The residual makeup that remained was perfect. The smudged smoky color around her brown eyes made them look bigger and more exotic. The difference was subtle yet totally amazing.

She nervously licked her lips, totally screwing up the lipstick, and had to reapply it after slipping on a clean pair of jeans and one of the denim blouses she’d brought. After a final check in the mirror, she left her room and headed toward the sound of Kate’s and Lisa’s laughter. They were coming from the kitchen, carrying platters of sliced chicken and beef and veggie trays.

“Just in time,” Kate said, catching sight of her and motioning with a tilt of her head for Dory to follow. “Because the kitchen has been tied up all day, we’re just having sandwiches. And then sinfully rich chocolate cake.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m so hungry I’d even eat eggplant at this point.”

Making a sound of disgust, Jessica came from behind with a pitcher of water and a bottle of red wine. “That’s pretty desperate.”

“What can I do?” Dory asked.

“I heard you’ve been busting your fanny all day.” Lisa slid her tray onto the oak dining room table and then looked up, her blue eyes widening. “Whoa, welcome to the age of glamour.”

“What?” She hadn’t meant to sound peevish. Oh, God, when the other two turned to stare at her she wanted to crawl under the table.

Kate’s slaw-jawed surprise didn’t help. “You look terrific. When did you start wearing makeup?”

She shrugged. “A couple of years ago.” At the ridiculous lie, heat crawled up her neck, and she turned, pretending to be looking for something. “Should I get silverware?”

Jessica got in her face and grinned. “I’m so proud. Our little girl is all grown up.”

“Very funny. Now knock it off.” So much for subtle. She glanced toward the stairs that led to the bedrooms. If Clint showed up now and heard all the teasing, she’d just die of embarrassment.

Although she couldn’t seem to hide her amusement, Kate gave the other two a warning look and then dug into the drawer of an oak china hutch that matched the table. Producing a stack of beige linen napkins, she handed them to Dory along with a handful of forks and knives. “You can set these out.”

Lisa passed out dinner and dessert plates, while Jessica went to get water glasses.

Kate laid serving forks beside the platters of meat and sliced tomatoes, and then remembering that they needed mayo and mustard, returned to the kitchen.

After completing her task, Dory glanced at the grandfather clock near the stairs. Where was Clint, anyway? Or Kate’s other brother, for that matter.

“Let’s get the wine poured,” Lisa said, and popped the cork. “Pass me some glasses, will you?”

The other two returned, and they all took their seats. Kate started passing the food, and Dory realized only four places had been set. Good thing she hadn’t gotten all made up for Clint. Clearly he’d decided to bail on dinner.

5

THE NEXT DAY STARTED OUT hot even before the sun inched up over the mesquite trees dotting the eastern slopes. Clint squinted at the haze of dust kicked up by his brother’s horse as he galloped south, intent on riding the fence line. Joe had always liked to stick to daily operations rather than get involved with the weekend’s festivities, but today he’d been particularly stubborn about putting distance between himself and the fray. Even after Clint had practically begged him to swap places with him.

He knew that facing Dory was inevitable, and that it wasn’t going to be easy. Shame had shadowed him the whole night, and he’d deserved every last minute of feeling as if a noose were tightening around his neck. Not that he thought she’d gone running to tell Kate what a jerk her brother was. He was pretty sure Dory was more the type to pretend the incident had never happened. Except he’d seen the hurt look on her face.

Figuring his presence at supper wouldn’t be welcome, he’d eaten with the men in the bunkhouse, and then drank beer and played Texas Hold ’Em until midnight. But because his mind hadn’t been on poker, he’d lost a couple hundred bucks. If that wasn’t bad enough, most of it had been to their foreman, whose irritating cackle and penchant for pointing out every dumb play Clint made had just about pushed him over the edge.

He downed his third cup of black coffee, relieved that the dull ache in his head from too much beer and too little sense was finally easing up. So far, only one of the tents had been erected and it was already close to eight-thirty. Last night’s jump start on the weekend’s festivities had put them behind schedule. Most of the men helping with the party preparations were slow moving, probably hung over, and he couldn’t say a word because he was such a damn poor example.

“Good morning,” Dory said cheerfully as she came from behind and stood beside him, her hands wrapped around an oversize blue mug.

He eyed her warily, but she didn’t give any indication that she was still upset. “Mornin.’ Sleep well?”

“Boy, did I ever.” She wore jeans, no holes this time, and a snug white T-shirt tucked into her waistband, revealing a narrow waist and curvy hips. “Though we stayed up too late talking.”

“I was up late, too,” he grumbled. “Losing money.”

“Poker?”

“Yep.” Was it really gonna be this easy? As if he hadn’t opened his big mouth and stuck his size-eleven boot into it. Had she already forgiven him?

She smiled. “Been there, done that. After work, and having read every book you can carry in with you, there’s not much to do in the jungle for months at a time.” She took a sip of coffee and then frowned at him over the rim of the mug. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Me?” He’d been staring at the tiny dimple that appeared near the corner of her mouth. Something else he hadn’t noticed yesterday. “Nothing. We’ve got some coffee brewing in the barn. Want a refill?”

“Sure. If you want, I can get some for both of us.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He handed her his mug. “Just black,” he called as she started to walk away, noting a slight natural sway to her hips. Interesting how different she looked with her shirt tucked in.

“What time you expect the kids to start showin’ Pete’s gravelly voice startled Clint out of his preoccupation with the way Dory’s jeans hugged her backside.

“I’d say about an hour and a half. We have to get the other tent up before then.” Clint pulled his hat brim down in deference to the sun. “I want the tools and equipment stored before those kids start running wild around here.”

“We could rope off the area if you think—”

A howl came from inside the barn. And then a scream. Clint and Pete exchanged glances, and then they both took off at a run. Clint quickly outdistanced the older man and entered the barn first. Newly stacked bales of hay blocked his way and obscured his view. He darted through the maze toward the kitchenette in back where they kept the coffee.

“Dory!”

“It’s okay. I’m all right.”

Following the sound of her voice, he found her near the coffeepot, standing with her back to him. “What happened?”

Without turning around, she brushed off the front of her jeans. “Whoever said everything is bigger in Texas wasn’t kidding. You have cats the size of Canada.”

Clint grinned. “That would be Sylvester.”

“What’s wrong?” Huffing and puffing, Pete shuffled in. He bent over to catch his breath, his gaze bouncing between Clint and Dory.

“Sylvester,” was all Clint had to say.

“Damn cat.” Pete snorted. “If he weren’t such a good mouser I’d have cut him loose up in the hills long ago.”

That was a lie. Pete wouldn’t admit it for all the chewing tobacco in Houston, but he loved that monstrous gray tabby. “Sorry about that. Sylvester can be territorial,” Clint said, wondering why she wouldn’t turn around. “I didn’t think to warn you.” He moved closer. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder at him. “I can’t believe I screamed.” She sighed. “Like a girl.”

Clint might have appreciated the joke more if he didn’t suspect something was wrong. He moved around to face her and saw their mugs lying at her feet. And then he noticed she was favoring her arm. The skin inside of her wrist had reddened where the hot coffee obviously burned her.

“Ah, Dory. We’ll put some ointment on it.”

“It’s nothing, really. I’ve had much worse.”

“What did that damn critter do now? Hope he didn’t scratch you.” Pete came to look, taking off his hat and peering at Dory.

She hunched her shoulders. “Please, it’s okay. I’m going to return to the house to rinse it off and change. Go back to what you were doing.”

Clint sensed her tension, noted the self-conscious posture. “Go on, Pete, I’ll take care of her.”

“I feel awful responsible, that being my cat and all.” Despite his words, Pete seemed as if he wanted to bolt.

“Pete, that tent has to go up now.”

“You got it, boss.” He jammed his hat back on his wiry gray hair as he backed away. “Sorry about that, miss.”

“Not a problem,” she said, and waited until Pete disappeared before lowering the arm she’d been cradling.

“We’ve got a first aid—” Clint lost this train of thought when he saw the front of her T-shirt.

Splashed with black coffee, the white cotton clung to her like a second skin. Her hardened nipples poked at the wet fabric. It looked as if she weren’t wearing a bra. But then he saw the faint pink outline. His body responded, and then shame set in. Guiltily, he snapped out of his inappropriate musings.

“How’s your chest?” he asked.

Her eyebrows shot up.

“You know what I mean,” he muttered, and went in search of the first-aid kit, which he found tucked in a lower cabinet.

When he came back around, Dory had pulled up her shirt and was inspecting her smooth flat belly. Nothing indecent about the amount of skin she exposed. But the view was more than he could handle. He handed her the kit, and got the hell out.

AN HOUR LATER, she’d changed her ruined shirt, ministered to the burn on her wrist, and still Lisa and Jessica weren’t dressed. Assured she wasn’t needed in the kitchen, Dory walked out the back door and saw that both tents were now up, canopying four long picnic-style tables, benches and chairs. Coming from the front of the house, she heard the shrieks of excited kids.

She shaded her eyes against the brilliant sun and noticed Clint gesturing wildly to a pair of cowhands, who immediately trotted toward the carousel. She guessed they hadn’t anticipated the early arrival of the children. Torn between staying out of the way and offering to help, the decision was made when Clint gestured for her to join him.

“Feel like selling tickets or manning one of the game booths?” he asked.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Come with me.”

She half jogged to keep up as his longer legs ate up the ground to the wooden folding chair and umbrella that was set up in front of the booths. On the chair sat a metal money box and a huge roll of generic yellow tickets.

“There’s change in the box and each ticket costs a quarter. The rides and games all require tickets. But everybody knows the drill, and frankly, no one will turn a kid away if they don’t have a ticket. Any questions?” He sounded business-like, yet when she shook her head, he gently touched her arm. “Let’s see,” he said, turning over her wrist so he could inspect the injured skin.

“See? It’s nothing.” Her pulse quickened when the pad of his thumb gently stroked her arm.

“Not bad.” He met her eyes and something unidentifiable and kind of scary passed between them.

She cleared her throat and pulled away.

“The chili cook-off starts shortly after noon,” he said, stuffing his hands in his back pockets. “I’m gonna go check on the stoves in the contestants’ booths. I’ll be back to make sure someone relieves you.”

“Don’t worry about me.” She picked up the metal box, sat down and set it on her lap, feeling somewhat shaky. Clint’s dark green eyes and gentle touches were tipping her off balance. It was crazy, and she didn’t know how to react to him. “Go.”

He started to leave, and then turned back to her. “You’re a good sport, Dory. Thanks.”

“Sure.” She shrugged, feeling a bit low suddenly. Pretending to acquaint herself with the money box and tickets, she kept her head bowed until he was gone.

Dory, the good sport. Dory, one of the guys. Dory, the dependable. None of those tags had ever bothered her before, and she hated that they did now. It wasn’t as if a man like Clint would ever be interested in her as a woman, but for just a few minutes, she’d felt a connection with him. Weird, because she was never foolish like this about men. She not only understood her feminine limitations, but in general, she truly lacked interest. What was it about Clint’s indifference that depressed her?

She blew out a frustrated breath and then was relieved to be distracted by her first customer, a cute little freckled girl of about seven. After making the child’s change and passing over her tickets, Dory’s gaze automatically scanned the growing crowd in search of Clint. He was clear across the field, but she spotted him right away because he was taller than most of the other men.

He was talking and laughing with someone, and Dory strained so hard to see who it was, she nearly fell off her chair. But she caught a glimpse of the tall, leggy blonde around whose shoulders he’d casually slipped an arm.

Checking on the chili cook-off booths. Right. She adjusted the metal box on her lap, and muttered when she accidentally ripped off a fingernail.

“Excuse me, miss.” It was the ranch foreman, whom she’d met yesterday.

“Hi, Silas. Need some tickets?”

“No, ma’am. Seems we’re in a pickle and Pete thinks I should talk to you.”

“Yes?”

“We need help in one of the booths.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Sure, but what about selling tickets?”

“I can do that for the time being,” he said, abruptly removing his hat and grinning. “But we need a pretty gal like yourself for the booth. The kissing booth.”

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