Men to Trust
Diana Palmer
Peggy Moreland
Kathie DeNosky

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Boss Man

By

Diana Palmer

DIANA PALMER has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humour. With over forty million copies of her books in print, Diana Palmer is one of North America’s most beloved authors and considered one of the top ten romance writers in America.

Diana’s hobbies include gardening, archaeology, anthropology, iguanas, astronomy and music. She has been married to James Kyle for over twenty-five years and they have one son.

Chapter One

Violet Hardy sat at her desk and wondered why she’d ever taken this secretarial job in the first place. Her boss, Jacobsville, Texas, attorney Blake Kemp, didn’t appreciate her at all. She’d only been trying to keep him from dying of a premature heart attack by changing his regular coffee to decaf. For her pains, she’d been on the receiving end of the worst insult she could ever imagine, and from the one man in the world that she loved above all others. She knew her co-workers were as upset as she was. They’d been kindness itself. But nothing made up for the fact that Blake Kemp thought Violet was fat.

She looked down at her voluptuous body in a purple dress with a high neckline, frilly bodice and straight skirt, vaguely aware that the style did nothing for her. She would be wearing it today, of all days, when Kemp gave her that disapproving scrutiny. Her mother had tried to tell her, gently, that frills and big bosoms didn’t match. Worse, a tight-fitting skirt only emphasized those wide hips.

She’d been trying so hard to lose weight. She’d given up sweets, joined a gym, and worked hard at cooking regular and weight-conscious meals for herself and her elderly mother, who had a heart condition. Her father had died the year before of an apparent heart attack. But just lately there were rumors that her co-worker Libby Collins’s stepmother might be responsible for Mr. Hardy’s sudden death. Janet Collins had been suspected of poisoning an elderly man in a nursing home, and she’d taken Mr. Hardy for quite a sum of money before he died unexpectedly, just after being seen with her in a motel room. It had been too late for Mrs. Hardy to stop payment on the check, because she didn’t realize the money was missing until well after the funeral.

Violet and her mother had been devastated, not only by his loss, but by the disastrous financial condition he’d left behind. They’d lost their nest egg, their home, their car, everything. The woman who’d convinced Mr. Hardy to give her a quarter of a million dollars couldn’t be positively identified. And she’d run up accounts in department stores and even jewelry stores for which Mr. Hardy’s estate was suddenly responsible. Her mother had had the first stroke just after the funeral. Violet’s small, separate inheritance had been just enough to support them for a few months. But after it ran out, Violet had been forced to support them both. There had been a vacancy at Kemp’s office, working with Libby Collins and Mabel Henry. Fortunately, Violet had taken a business course in spite of her father’s disapproval. She’d never have to get a job, he’d said confidently.

It was nice working in Kemp’s office and she was a good secretary. But her boss didn’t appreciate her. Less today than ever before. She raged for five minutes, while her helpless co-workers listened and sympathized. She poured out her heart, including her feelings for her taciturn boss.

“Don’t take it so much to heart, dear,” Mabel said finally, sympathizing with her despair. “We all have bad days.”

“He thinks I’m fat,” Violet said miserably.

“He didn’t say anything.”

“Well, you know how he looked at me and what he insinuated,” Violet muttered, glaring down the hall.

Mabel grimaced. “He’s had a bad day.”

“So have I,” Violet said flatly.

Libby Collins patted her on the shoulder. “Buck up, Violet,” she said gently. “Just give it a couple of days and he’ll apologize. I’m sure he will.”

Violet wasn’t sure. In fact, she’d have bet money that an apology was the last thing on her boss’s mind.

“We’ll see,” she replied as she went back to her desk. But she didn’t believe it.

She pushed back her long dark hair and her blue eyes were tearful, although she was careful to conceal her hurt feelings. It was far worse than just his insinuation that she was overweight. She’d overheard Mabel and Libby whispering that the intercom had been on when Violet had poured out her heart to her co-workers after Kemp’s blistering attack over the decaffeinated coffee he’d been given. She was crazy about him. He’d heard that. How was she ever going to be able to face him again?

It was as bad as she feared. All day, he walked out to the front to meet clients, talk about appointments and get coffee. Every single time he walked in, he glared at Violet as if she were responsible for the seven deadly sins. She began to cringe when she heard his footsteps coming down the hall.

By the end of the day, Tuesday, she knew she couldn’t stay with him anymore. It was too humiliating all the way around. She was going to have to leave.

Libby and Mabel noticed her unusual solemnity. It got worse when she pulled a typed sheet from her printer, got up, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall to Kemp’s office.

Seconds later, they heard him. “What the hell…?”

Violet came stalking back down the hall, red-faced and unnerved, with an enraged Kemp, minus his glasses, two steps behind, waving the sheet of paper at her back.

“You can’t give me one day’s notice!” he raged. “I have cases pending. You’re responsible for sorting them out and notifying the petitioners…!”

She whirled, eyes flashing. “All that information is in the computer, along with the phone numbers! Libby knows what to do, she’s had to help me keep track of your cases when I had to be home with Mother during her last stroke! Please don’t pretend it matters who’s doing the typing or making the phone calls, because I know it doesn’t matter to you! I’m going to work for Duke Wright!”

He was seething, but he went suddenly quiet. “Going over to the enemy, then, Miss Hardy?”

“Mr. Wright is less excitable than you are, sir, and he won’t rage about coffee. In fact,” she said audaciously, “he makes his own!”

He looked for a retort, couldn’t think up one, mashed his sensuous lips together, let out a word under his breath that could have had him up for charges of harassment, and stomped back down the hall still clutching the single sheet of paper. As an afterthought, he slammed his door.

Libby and Mabel tried not to laugh. Mr. Kemp had thrown two people out of the office onto the sidewalk in less than a month. His temper had gone from bad to worse, and poor Violet had caught the worst of it. Now she was leaving and it would be lonely without her. Sadly, Libby thought, her own workload had just doubled.

Violet apologized to her co-workers, but insisted that she couldn’t take the working situation anymore. At the end of the day, she closed down her computer, noting that Mabel and Libby were both out the door before she could get her things together. Libby had already agreed to come back as soon as she had a bite to eat and finish up two cases that Kemp was presenting the next day. Violet would have offered to do it; poor Libby had problems of her own with her horrible stepmother trying to sell the Collins house out from under Libby and her brother, Curt. But Libby insisted she didn’t mind.

Violet shouldered into her long sweater-jacket just as Kemp came stalking down the hall, still in a temper, his pale blue eyes flashing behind his glasses, his lean face taut with anger, his dark wavy hair slightly mussed in back from his restless fingers.

He stopped and glared at her. “I hope I’ve made my point about the coffee,” he said bluntly. “Have you reconsidered your impulsive resignation, by the way?”

She swallowed. He’d made his point about a lot of things. She drew herself up to her full height and faced him bravely. “I have not. I’ll be leaving as soon as you can get a replacement, Mr. Kemp.”

His eyebrows arched. “Running away, Miss Hardy?” he asked sarcastically.

“You can call it that if you like,” she replied.

His eyes glittered, angered all out of proportion by the reply. “In that case, you can consider this your last day and forget the measly notice. I’ll get Libby to finish your work and I’ll mail your two weeks’ pay to you. If that’s satisfactory.”

Her face felt tight and uncomfortable at the taunting question, but she stood her ground. “That will be fine, Mr. Kemp. Thank you.”

He glared at her. He was furious that he couldn’t get a rise out of her. “Very well. Your office key, please.”

She fumbled it off her key chain and handed it to him, careful not to let her fingers touch his. Her heart was going to break in two when the shock wore off. But she was too proud to let him see how devastated she was.

He stared down at her dark head of hair as she placed the key in his fingers. He felt an unfamiliar, uncomfortable surge of loss. He couldn’t understand why. He had little to do with women these days, although he was only thirty-six. He’d lost the woman he loved years ago and had never had any inclination to risk his heart again.

Violet, however, threatened his freedom. She had a sort of empathy with people that was disturbing. She was easily hurt. He could see that this was killing her, being tipped out of his office, out of his life. But he had to let her go. She’d already gotten too close. He never wanted to feel again the pain of having his heart ripped out with the loss of a woman. His fiancée had died. He was through with love. So Violet had to go.

It was for the best, he told himself firmly. She was only infatuated with him. She’d get over it. He thought of how much she’d lost in the past year: her father, her home, her whole way of life. Now she had her invalid mother to care for, a burden she shouldered without a word of complaint. Now she had no job. He winced as he sensed the pain she must be feeling.

“It’s for the best,” he muttered uncomfortably.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes tragic in her rounded face. “It is?”

His jaw tautened. “You’re confused about your feelings. You’re only infatuated, Violet,” he said as kindly as he could, watching her face flush violently. “It isn’t love eternal, and there are eligible men elsewhere. You’ll get over it.”

Her lips actually trembled as she tried to find a comeback to that devastating revelation. She’d been afraid he’d overheard her confession of love, now she knew he had. His words made her feel like sinking into the floor. It was the worst humiliation she could ever remember feeling in her life. He couldn’t possibly have made his own feelings any clearer.

“Yes, sir,” she bit off, turning away. “I’ll get over it.”

She picked up her bits and pieces and moved toward the door. Predictably, he went to open it for her, a gentleman to the bitter end.

“Thank you,” she choked, her eyes averted.

“Are you certain that Duke Wright will hire you?” he asked abruptly.

She didn’t even look at him. “What do you care, Mr. Kemp?” she asked in a dull, miserable tone. “I’m out of your hair.”

She walked toward her car with her heart around her ankles. Behind her, a tall man stood watching, brooding, as she walked out of his life.

She’d forgotten the cake. She’d promised to drop it by the Hart ranch for Tess, but it was still sitting in Kemp’s office. She no longer had a key, and she’d rather have died than phoned him to let her in to get the cake. He’d think it was a ruse, so that she could see him again.

She stopped by the bakery instead and got another cake. Luckily for her, Tess didn’t want a message on it, just the cake. She stopped by the Hart ranch property at Tess and Cag’s enormous house and handed it off to their housekeeper, with a beaming smile that never reached her eyes. Then she went home.

Her mother was lying on the sofa, watching the last of her soap operas. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said, smiling. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Very nice,” Violet lied, smiling back. “How about you?”

“I’ve done very well. I made supper!”

“Mama, you aren’t supposed to exert yourself,” Violet protested, gritting her teeth.

“Cooking isn’t exertion. I do love it so,” the older woman replied, her blue eyes that were so like Violet’s sparkling with pleasure. Her hair was silver now, short and wavy. She lay on the sofa in an old gown and housecoat, her feet in socks. Nights were still chilly, even though it was April.

“Want to eat in here on trays?” Violet offered.

“That would be lovely. We can watch the news.”

Violet grimaced. “Not the news,” she groaned. “Something pleasant!”

“Then what would you like to watch? We’ve got lots of DVDs,” her mother added.

Violet named a comedy about a crocodile who ate people living around a lake.

Her mother gave her an odd look. “My, my. Usually when you want to watch that one, you’ve had an argument with Mr. Kemp.” She was fishing.

Violet cleared her throat. “We did have a little tiff,” she confessed, not daring to tell her mother that the family breadwinner was temporarily out of work.

“It will all blow over,” Mrs. Hardy promised. “He’s a difficult man, I imagine, but he’s been very kind to us. Why, when I had to go to the hospital last time, he drove you there and even sat with you until they got me over the crisis.”

“Yes, I know,” Violet replied, without adding that Mr. Kemp would do that for anybody. It didn’t mean anything, except that he had a kind heart.

“And then there was that huge basket of fruit he sent us at Christmas.” The older woman was still talking.

Violet was on her way to her bedroom to change into jeans and a sweatshirt. She wondered how she was going to get another job without naming Mr. Kemp as a reference. He might give her one. She just hated having to ask him to. She’d told her co-workers, and Kemp, that she was going to work for Duke Wright, but it had been a lie to save face.

“Going to the gym tonight?” her mother asked when she reappeared and rifled through the DVD stack for the movie she wanted.

“Not tonight,” Violet replied with a smile. Maybe never again, she was thinking. What use was it to revamp herself when she’d never see Mr. Kemp again, anyway?

Later, she cried herself to sleep, hating her own show of weakness. Fortunately, nobody else would see it. By dawn, she was up and dressed, her makeup on, her resolve firm. She was going to get a new job. She had skills. She was a hard worker. She would be an asset to any prospective employer. She told herself these things firmly, because her ego was badly hurt. She’d show Mr. Kemp. She could get a job anywhere!

Actually, that wasn’t quite the case. Jacobsville was a small town. There weren’t that many office jobs available, because most people lucky enough to get them worked in the same place until they retired.

There was one hope. Duke Wright, a local rancher who had a real verbal war going with Mr. Kemp, couldn’t keep a secretary. He was hard, cold, and demanding. At least one secretary had left his employment in tears. His wife had left him, along with their young son, and filed for divorce. He consistently refused to sign the final papers, which had led to a furious confrontation between himself and Blake Kemp. The fistfight escalated until Chief of Police Cash Grier had to step in and break it up. Duke threw a punch at Cash, missed the chief and landed in jail. There was certainly no love lost between Duke Wright and Blake Kemp.

With that idea in mind, and gathering up her courage, she phoned him from home the next morning while her mother was still asleep.

His deep voice was easily recognizable the instant he spoke.

“Mr.…Mr. Wright? It’s Violet Hardy,” she stammered.

There was a surprised pause. “Yes, Miss Hardy?” he replied.

“I was wondering if you needed any secretarial help right now,” she blurted out, embarrassed almost to tears just to ask the question.

There was another pause and then a chuckle. “Have you and Kemp parted ways?” he asked at once.

She felt her cheeks redden. “In fact, yes, we have,” she said flatly. “I quit.”

“Great!”

“Ex-excuse me?” she stammered, surprised.

“I can’t get a secretary who doesn’t see me as a matrimonial prospect,” he told her.

“I certainly won’t,” she replied without thinking. “Uh, sorry!”

“Don’t apologize. How soon can you get out here?”

“Fifteen minutes,” she said brightly.

“You’re hired. Come in right away. Be sure and tell Kemp who you’re working for, will you?” he added. “It would make my day!”

She laughed. “Yes, sir. And thank you very much! I’ll work hard, I’ll do overtime, anything you want! Well, within reason.”

“No need to worry, I’m off women for life,” he said in a rough tone. “See you soon, Violet.”

He hung up before she could reply. She had a job! She didn’t have to tell her mother she was out of work and they wouldn’t be able to afford rent payments and her car payment and food. It was such a relief that she sat staring at the phone blankly until she remembered that she had to go to work.

“I’ll be home just after five, Mama,” she told her mother gently, bending to kiss her forehead. It felt clammy. She frowned, standing erect. “Are you okay?”

Her mother opened pale blue eyes and managed a smile. “Just a little headache, darling, certainly nothing to worry about. I’d tell you. Honest.”

Violet relaxed, but only a little. She loved her mother. Mrs. Hardy was the only person in the whole world who loved her. She had frequent unspoken terrors about losing her. It was scary.

“I’m okay!” her mother emphasized.

“You stay in bed today and don’t get up and start trying to do cordon bleu in the kitchen. Okay?”

Mrs. Hardy reached out and caught Violet’s hand. “I don’t want to be a burden on you, darling,” she said softly. “That was never what I intended.”

“You can’t help having a bad heart,” she insisted.

“I wish I could. Your father might still be alive, if he hadn’t been forced to…to go to another woman…for—” She broke off, tears brightening her eyes.

“Mama, you can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t help,” Violet told her, privately thinking that if she’d been married to the same man for twenty-five years and he had a stroke, she certainly wouldn’t be running around on him while he was fighting just to stay alive. Her father hadn’t really loved her mother, and it showed to everybody except Mrs. Hardy. The older woman was forever doing things to help other people. Until her illness, she’d always been active in the community, baking for fund-raising sales, working in her church group, taking food to bereaved families—anything she could do. Her father, a very successful Certified Public Accountant, went to work and came home and watched television. He had no sense of compassion. In fact, his mind was forever on himself, and what he needed. He and Violet had never been close, although he hadn’t been a bad father, in his way.

But she couldn’t say all that to her mother. Instead she bent and kissed her mother’s temple again. “I love you. It’s no burden to take care of you. And I mean that,” she added, smiling.

“You tell that Mr. Kemp that I’m very proud he gave you the job. I don’t know what we’d have done…”

Violet sat down beside her mother. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

“You’re getting married?” the older woman asked hopefully, with bright eyes and a smile. “He’s finally realized you’re in love with him?!”

“He’s realized it,” Violet said, tight-lipped. “And he said I’d get over it quicker if I was working for somebody else.”

Her mother’s jaw fell. “And he seemed like such a nice man!” she exclaimed.

She held the other woman’s hand hard. “I’ve got a new job,” she said at once, before her mother could start worrying. “I’m going to start this morning.” She smiled. “It’s going to be great!”

“Start where? Working for whom?”

“Duke Wright.”

Her mother’s thin eyebrows arched and a twinkle came into her eyes. “He doesn’t like Mr. Kemp.”

“And vice versa,” Violet stated firmly. “It will pay just as well as Mr. Kemp did,” she added, mentally crossing her fingers, “and he won’t complain about how I make coffee.”

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Hardy asked.

Violet cleared her throat. “Never mind, Mama. It’s going to be fine. I like Mr. Wright.”

Mrs. Hardy pressed her hand again. “If you say so. I’m sorry, darling. I know how you feel about Mr. Kemp.”

“Since he doesn’t feel the same way, it’s for the best if I don’t go on working there and eating my heart out over him,” Violet said realistically. “I daresay I’ll find other company, someone who doesn’t think I’m too fat…” She stopped at once and flushed.

Her mother looked furious. “You are not fat! I can’t believe Mr. Kemp had the audacity to say something like that to you!”

“He didn’t,” Violet replied at once. “He just…insinuated it.” She sighed. “He’s right. I am fat. But I’m trying so hard to lose weight!”

Her mother held her hand tighter. “Listen to me, darling,” she said softly. “A man who really cares about you isn’t going to dwell on what he considers faults. Your father used that same argument to me,” she added unexpectedly. “He actually said that he went to that other woman because she was slender and well-groomed.”

“He…did?”

She grimaced. “I should have told you. Your father never loved me, Violet. He was in love with my best friend and she married somebody else. He married me to get even with her. He wanted a divorce two months later, but I was pregnant with you, and in those days, people really gossiped about men who walked out on a pregnant wife. So we stayed together and tried to make a home for you. Looking back,” she said wearily, lying back down on her pillows, “perhaps I made a mistake. You don’t know what a good marriage is, do you? Your father and I hardly ever did anything together, even when you were little.”

Violet pushed back her mother’s disheveled hair. “I love you very much,” she told her parent. “I think you’re wonderful. So do a lot of other people. It was my father’s loss if he couldn’t see how special you were.”

“At least I have you” came the soft reply, with a smile. “I love you, too, darling.”

Violet fought tears. “Now I really have to go,” she said. “I can’t afford to lose my new job before I start it!”

Her mother laughed. “You be careful!”

“I’ll drive under the speed limit,” she promised.

“Mr. Wright isn’t married now, is he?” Mrs. Hardy wondered.

“Yes, he is. He refused to sign the final divorce papers.” She laughed. “That’s why he had the fight with Mr. Kemp.”

“Is it spite, do you think, or does he still love her?”

“Everybody thinks he still loves her, but she’s making a fortune working as a lawyer in New York City and she doesn’t want to come back here.”

“They have a little boy. Doesn’t she think his father has any right to see the child?”

“They’re still arguing about custody.”

“What a pity.”

“People should think hard about having children,” Violet said with conviction, “and they shouldn’t ever be accidents.”

“That’s just what I’ve always said,” Mrs. Hardy replied. “Have a good day, darling.”

“You, too. The phone’s right here and I’m going to write down Mr. Wright’s number in case you need me.” She penciled it on the pad next to the phone, smiled, and went to get her purse.

Duke Wright lived in a huge white Victorian house. Local gossip said that his wife had wanted it since she was a child, living in a poor section of Jacobsville. She’d married Duke right out of high school and started to college after the honeymoon was over. College had opened a new world to her eyes. She’d decided to study law, and Duke stood by and let her have her way, sure that she’d never want to leave Jacobsville. But she got a taste of city life when she went on to law school in San Antonio, and she decided to work in a law firm there.

Nobody understood exactly why they decided to have a child in her first year as a practicing estate lawyer. She didn’t seem happy about it, although she had the child. But a live-in nurse had to be employed because Mrs. Wright spent more and more time at the office. Then, two years ago, she’d been offered a position in a well-known law firm in New York City and she’d jumped at the chance. Duke had argued, cajoled, threatened, to try to get her to turn it down. Nothing worked. In a fit of rage, she moved out, with their son, and filed for divorce. Duke had fought it tooth and nail. Just this month, she’d presented him with divorce papers, demanding his signature, which also required him to remit full custody of his five-year-old son to her. He’d gone wild.

To look at him, though, Violet thought, he seemed very self-possessed and confident. He was tall and bronzed with a strong face, square chin, deep-set dark eyes and blondish-brown hair which he wore conventionally cut. He had the physique of a rodeo star, which he’d been before his father’s untimely death and his switch from cowboy to cattle baron. He ran purebred red angus cattle, well-known in cattle circles for their pedigree. He had all the scientific equipment necessary for a prosperous operation, including high-tech methods of genetic breeding, artificial insemination, embryo transplantation, cross-breeding for leanness, low birth weight and daily weight gain ratio, as well as expert feed formulation. He had the most modern sort of operation, right down to lagoon management and forage improvement. He had the most modern computers money could buy, and customized software to keep up with his cattle. But his newest operation was organic ham and bacon that he raised on his ranch and marketed over the Internet.

Violet was staggered at the high-tech equipment in the office he maintained on his sprawling ranch outside town.

“Intimidated?” he drawled, smiling. “Don’t worry. It’s easier to use than it looks.”

“Can you operate it all?” she asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “With the average duration of secretarial assistance around here, I have to be able to do things myself,” he said heavily. He gave her a long look and stuck his lean hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Violet, I’m not an easy boss,” he confessed. “I have moods and rages, and sometimes I blow up when things upset me. You’ll need nerves of steel to last long here. So I won’t blame you if you have reservations.”

Her eyebrows arched. “I worked for Blake Kemp for over a year.”

He chuckled, understanding her very well. “They say he’s worse than me,” he agreed. “Okay. If you’re game, we’ll give it two weeks. After that, you can decide if it’s worth the money. That’s another thing,” he added, smiling. “I pay better than Kemp.” He named a figure that made Violet look shocked. He nodded. “That’s to make it worth the aggravation. Come on, and I’ll show you around the equipment.”

It was fascinating. She’d never seen anything like the tangle of spreadsheets and software that ran his empire. Even the feed was mixed by computer.

“Not that you’ll have to concern yourself with the organic pork operation,” he added quickly. “I have three employees who do nothing except that. But these figures—” he indicated the spreadsheet “—are urgent. They have to be maintained on a daily basis.”

“All of them?” she exclaimed, seeing hours and hours of overtime in statistics before her.

“Not by hand,” he replied. “All the cowboys are computer literate, even the old-timers. They feed the information into handheld computers and send it to the mainframe by internal modem, right from the pastures,” he told her.

She just shook her head. “It’s incredible,” she replied. “I hope I’m smart enough to learn all this, Mr. Wright.”

He smiled approvingly. “There’s nothing I appreciate more than modesty, Miss Hardy,” he replied. “You’ll do fine. Ready to get started?” “Yes, sir!” she replied.

It was a short day, mainly because she was so busy trying to learn the basics of Duke Wright’s agricultural programs. She liked him. He might have a bad reputation, and she knew he could be hard to get along with, but he had saving graces.

She managed not to think about Mr. Kemp all afternoon, until she got home.

Her mother smiled at her from the sofa, where she was watching her daily soap operas. “Well, how did it go?” she asked.

“I like it!” Violet told her with a big smile. “I really do. I think I’m going to work out just fine. And, besides that, I’m going to be making a lot more money. Mama, we might even be able to afford a dishwasher!”

Mrs. Hardy sighed. “That would be lovely, wouldn’t it?”

Violet kicked off her shoes and sat down in the recliner next to the sofa. “I’m so tired! I’m just going to rest for a minute and then I’ll see about supper.”

“We could have chili and hot dogs.”

Violet chuckled. “We could have a nice salad and bread sticks,” she said, thinking of the calories.

“Whatever you like, dear. Oh, by the way, Mr. Kemp came by a few minutes ago.”

Violet’s world came crashing down around her ears. She’d hoped to not even hear his name, at least for another few days.

“What did he want?” she asked her mother.

The older woman picked up a white envelope. “To give you this.” She handed it to Violet, who sat staring at it.

“Well,” she murmured. “I guess it’s my final pay.”

Mrs. Hardy muted the television set. “Why not open it and see?”

Violet didn’t want to, but her mother looked expectant. She tore open the envelope and extracted a check and a letter. With her breath in her throat, she slowly unfolded it.

“What does it say?” her mother prompted.

Violet just stared at it, unbelieving.

“Violet, what is it?”

Violet drew in a breath. “It’s a letter of recommendation,” she said huskily.

Chapter Two

“I can’t believe he actually gave me one,” Violet said huskily, her heart racing from just the thought that he’d backed down that far. “I didn’t ask for it.”

“He told me that,” her mother replied. “He said that he felt really bad about the way you left, Violet, and that he hoped you’d be happy in your new job.”

Violet looked up at her parent, hating herself for being so happy with these crumbs of Kemp’s regard. “He did?” She caught herself. “Did you tell him where I was working?”

Mrs. Hardy shifted on the sofa. “Well, dear, he looked so pleasant and we had such a nice conversation. I thought, why upset the man?”

Violet laughed helplessly. “What did you tell him, Mother?” she asked gently.

“I said you were working in a local office for a very nice man, doing statistics,” she said with a chuckle. “He didn’t actually ask where. He started to, and I changed the subject. He said Libby and Mabel were splitting your work for the time being. He’s going to advertise for a new secretary,” she added.

Violet sighed. “I hope he’s happy with whichever poor soul gets the job,” she said.

“No, you don’t. I know you hated to leave. But, dear, if he doesn’t feel the same way, it’s a blessing in the long run,” her mother said wisely. “No sense eating your heart out.”

“That’s what I thought when I quit,” Violet admitted. She got to her feet, putting the letter and check back in the envelope. “I’ll go fix something to eat.”

“You could make a pot of coffee,” her mother suggested.

Violet gave her a glare. “You don’t need to be drinking caffeine.”

“Don’t we have any decaf?”

It reminded Violet too much of her ex-boss, and she wasn’t enthusiastic. But her mother loved coffee, and missed being able to drink it. She didn’t know about the coffee wars in Kemp’s office, either. Violet forced a smile. “I’ll see,” she said, and left her mother to the soap opera.

The first few days out of Kemp’s office were the hardest. She couldn’t forget how she’d looked forward to every new day, to each morning’s first glimpse of her handsome boss. Her heart had jumped at the sound of his voice. She tingled all over when, rarely, he smiled at her when she finished a difficult task for him. Even the scent of a certain masculine cologne could trigger memories, because he always smelled of it. She felt deprived because her life would no longer contain even a casual glimpse of him. She was working for his worst enemy. Not much likelihood that Kemp would turn up on Duke Wright’s ranch in the near or distant future.

But as time passed, Violet slowly fell into a routine at Duke’s ranch. The spreadsheet programs were easy to use once she learned what the various terms meant, like weight gain ratio and birth weight. She learned that Duke used artificial insemination to improve the genetics of his cattle, selecting for low birth weight, good weight gain ratios for offspring and lean cuts of meat in the beef cattle offspring that would eventually be generated by his purebred herd sires and dams.

She was fascinated to find that science was used to predict leanness and tenderness of beef cuts, that genetics could manipulate those factors to produce a more marketable product for consumers.

She was fascinated by the various pedigrees and the amount of history contained in his breeding programs. It was like an organic history of Texas just to look back over the first herds that had contributed to Duke’s formidable beef concern. He kept photographic records as well as statistical ones, and she found the early beef sires short, stocky and woolly compared to modern ones. It graphically showed the progression of genetic breeding.

Her duties were routine and hardly exciting, but she made good wages and she liked the people she worked with. Duke had full-time and part-time cowboys, as well as a veterinary student who worked one semester and went to school one semester. He had three people who did nothing but work with his Internet Web site that sold his premium organic ham and bacon products.

But Violet’s job was separate from that of the other workers. There was a new storefront that Duke had just opened in Jacobsville to market his organic pork. There was also a modern office complex adjacent to the enormous barn, where the production and lab staff were located. The barn, in addition to containing the pride of his purebred cattle herd, his expensive seed bulls, there was also a climate controlled room where the frozen sperm and embryos were kept for artificial insemination. The procedure itself was conducted in the barn. Purebred embryos from superior herd sires, as well as straws of semen from champion bulls who were now long dead, were kept in vats of liquid nitrogen. These were placed in surrogate mothers who might be Holsteins or even mixed breed cattle rather than the purebred heifers he also sold along with each new crop of yearling bulls from purebred sires.

Violet had a passing acquaintance with the employees who ran the lab, one of whom was a graduate biologist named Delene Crane, a young woman with a quirky sense of humor. They were nodding acquaintances, because she didn’t have much free time to socialize. None of the staff did, for that matter. Routine at the ranch was chaotic because spring was the busiest time for everyone, with calves being born and recorded and branding in full swing.

She knew that Duke used not only hot branding, but also had computer chips on plastic tags that dangled from the ears of his cattle. These chips contained the complete history of each cow or bull. The information was scanned into a handheld computer and sent by modem to Violet’s computer to be compiled into the spreadsheet program.

“It’s just fascinating,” Violet told Duke as she watched the information updating itself on her computer screen from minute to minute.

He smiled wearily. He was dusty. His chaps and boots were dirty and blood-stained because he’d been helping with calving all day. His red shirt was wet all over. His hair, under his wide-brimmed Stetson, was dripping sweat. His leather gloves, tight-fitting and suede-colored, were dangling from the wide belt buckle at his lean waist over his jeans.

“It’s taken a lot of work to get this operation so far,” he confessed, his eyes on the screen as he spoke, his voice deep and pleasant in the quiet office. “And a lot of cash. I’ve been in the hole for the past year. But I’m just beginning to show a profit. I think the pork operation may be what finally gets me in the black.”

“Where are the pigs kept?” she wondered aloud, because she’d only seen cattle and horses so far. In addition to the cattle herd, Duke maintained a small herd of purebred Appa-loosa horses.

“Far enough away that they aren’t easy to smell,” he replied with a grin. “They have their own complex about a mile down the road. It’s remarkably clean, and purely organic. They have pastures to roam and a stream that runs through it all the year, and they’re fed a carefully formulated organic diet. No pesticides, no hormones, no antibiotics unless they’re absolutely necessary.”

“You sound like the Harts and the Tremaynes and…” she began.

“…and Cy Parks and J. D. Langley,” he finished for her, chuckling. “They did give me the idea. It’s catching on. Christabel and Judd Dunn jumped on the wagon last year.”

“It’s been very profitable for them, I hear,” Violet replied. “Mr. Kemp handles all the paperwork for the Harts and Cy Parks…” She bit her tongue as his face hardened and the smile faded. “Sorry, boss,” she said at once.

He moved jerkily. “No harm done.”

But she knew how he felt about Kemp. She opened a second window on the computer screen and diverted him with a question about another procedure.

He explained the process to her and smiled. “You’re a diplomat, Violet. I’m glad you needed a job.”

“Me, too, Mr. Wright,” she replied, smiling.

He pulled his hat down over his eyes. “Well, I’ve played hooky as long as I can,” he said with a grimace. “I’ll get back to work before Lance comes in here and lassos me and drags me back out to the pasture. You go home at five regardless of the phone, okay?” he added. “I know you worry about your mother. You don’t need to do overtime.”

“Thanks,” she said, and meant it. “It’s hard for her to be alone in the evening. She gets scared.”

“I don’t doubt it. Oh, if you get a minute,” he added from the door, “call Calhoun Ballenger and tell him I’m sending him a donation for his campaign.”

She grinned. “I’ll be happy to do that! I’m voting for him, too.”

“Good for you.” He closed the door carefully behind him.

Violet made the call, finished up her work, and left on time. She had to run by the post office on the way home to put Duke’s correspondence into the mail.

As luck would have it, Kemp was in the lobby when she walked in the door, having just put a last-minute letter into the outgoing post.

He stopped short when he saw her, his pale blue eyes narrow and accusing. She was keenly aware that her lipstick was long gone, that her hair was sticking out in comic angles from her once-neat braid, that one leg of her panty hose was laddered. She couldn’t run into him when she looked neat and pretty, she thought miserably. To top it all off, she was wearing white jeans that were too tight and a red overblouse with ruffles that made her look vaguely clownish. She ground her teeth as she glared back at him.

“Mr. Kemp,” she said politely, and started to go around him.

He stepped right into her path. “What’s Wright been doing to you?” he asked. “You look worn to the bone.”

Her thin eyebrows arched as she registered genuine concern in that narrow gaze. She cleared her throat. “It’s roundup,” she replied.

He nodded understanding. “The Harts are breaking out in hives already,” he mused, and almost smiled. “They’ve had some problems with their exports to Japan as well. I suppose the cattle business is wearing on the nerves.”

She smiled shyly. “Everybody’s rushing to record all the pertinent information for every new calf, and there are a lot of them.”

“He’s opened a meat shop here in town,” he remarked. “It sells organic hams and sausage and bacon.”

“Yes. His employees run a Web site, too, so that he can sell his pork on the Internet.” She hesitated. Her heart was racing like mad and she felt her knees weakening just from the long, shared looks. She missed him so much. “How…how are Libby and Mabel?”

“Missing you.” He made it sound as if she’d left him in a bind.

She shifted to the other foot. If they’d been alone, she’d have had more to say about the accusing look he was giving her. But people were coming and going all around them. “Thank you. For the recommendation, I mean.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think Wright would take you on,” he said honestly. “It’s no secret that he hates having women around the ranch since the divorce.”

“Delene Crane works with him,” she replied, curious. “She’s a woman.”

“He’s known Delene since they were in college together,” he told her. “He doesn’t think of her as a woman.”

Interesting, she mused, because Delene wasn’t a bad-looking woman. She had red hair and green eyes and a milky complexion with a few freckles. She froze out the cowboys who gave her flirting glances, though. She was also strictly business with Duke, so maybe it was true that he didn’t think of her as a romantic prospect. She wondered why Delene didn’t feel comfortable around men…

“How’s your mother?” Kemp asked abruptly.

She grimaced. “She does things they told her not to do,” she lamented. “Especially lifting heavy stuff. The doctors said that she still has a tendency toward clots, despite the blood thinners they give her. They didn’t say, but I know that once a person has one or two strokes, they’re almost predisposed to have more.”

He nodded slowly. “But there are drugs to treat that, now. I’m sure your doctor is taking good care of her.”

“He is,” she had to agree.

“Your mother is special.”

She smiled. “Yes. I think so, too.”

He looked past her. “It’s clouding up. You’d better get your letters mailed, so you don’t get soaked when you leave.”

“Yes.” She looked at him with pain in her eyes. She loved him. It was so much worse that he knew, and pitied her for it. She glanced away, coloring faintly. “Yes, I’d better…go.”

Unexpectedly, he reached out and pushed back a long strand of black hair that had escaped her braid. He tugged it behind her ear, his gaze intent and solemn as he watched her heartbeat race at her bodice. He heard her breath catch at the faint contact. He felt guilty. He could have been kinder to Violet. She had enough on her plate just with her mother to care for. She cared about him. She’d shown it, in so many ways, when she worked with him. He hadn’t wanted to encourage her, or give her false hope. But she looked so miserable.

“Take care of yourself,” he said quietly.

She swallowed, hard. “Yes, sir. You, too.”

He moved aside to let her pass. As she went by, a faint scent of roses drifted up into his nostrils. Amazing how much he missed that scent around his office. Violet had become almost like a stick of furniture in the past year, she was so familiar. But at the same time, he was aware of an odd, tender nurturing of himself that he’d never had in his adult life. Violet made him think of open fireplaces in winter, of warm lamplight in the darkness. Her absence had only served to make him realize how alone he was.

She walked on to the mail slots, unaware of his long, aching stare at her back. By the time she finished her chore, he was already out the door and climbing into his Mercedes.

Violet watched him drive away before she opened the door of the post office and went outside. It was starting to rain. She’d get wet, but she didn’t care. The odd, tender encounter made her head spin with pleasure. It would be a kind thought to brighten her lonely life.

There was a lot of talk around town about Janet Collins. She’d gone missing and Libby and Curt were the subject of a lot of gossip. Jordan Powell had been seen with Libby, but nobody took that seriously. He was also seen with old Senator Merrill’s daughter, Julie, doing the social rounds. Violet wondered if Libby felt the rejection as much as Violet felt it over Kemp. Her co-worker had a flaming crush on Jordan in recent weeks, but it seemed the feeling wasn’t reciprocated.

Violet’s mother seemed to be weakening as the days passed. It was hard for Violet to work and not worry about her. She’d started going back to the gym on her way home from work three days a week, but it was only for a half hour at a time. She’d splurged on a cell phone and she kept it with her all the time now, just in case there was ever an emergency when she wasn’t home. Her mother had a hot button on the new phone at home, too, so that she could push it and speed-dial Violet.

She had her long hair trimmed and frosted, and she actually asked a local boutique owner for tips on how to make the most of her full figure. She learned that lower cut blouses helped to diminish a full bosom. She also learned that a longer jacket flattered wide hips, and that straight lines made her look taller. She experimented with hairstyles until she found one that flattered her full face, and with makeup until she learned how to use it so that it looked natural. She was changing, growing, maturing, slimming. But all of it was a means to an end, as much as she hated to admit it. She wanted Blake Kemp to miss her, want her, ache for her when he looked at her. It was a hopeless dream, but she couldn’t let go of it.

Kemp, meanwhile, spent far too much time at his home thinking about ways and means to get Violet to come back.

He stretched out on his burgundy leather couch to watch the weather channel with his two female Siamese cats, Mee and Yow, curled against his chest. Mee, a big seal-point, rarely cuddled with him. Yow, a blue-point, was in his lap the minute he sat down. He felt a kinship with the cats, who had become his family. They sat with him while he watched television at night. They curled up on the big oak desk when he worked there at his computer. Late at night, they climbed under the covers on either side of him and purred him to sleep.

The Harts thought his cat mania was a little overdone. But, then, they weren’t really cat people, except for Cag and Tess. Their cats were mostly strays. Mee and Yow, on the other hand, were purebred. Blake had brought both of them home with him together from a pet store, where they’d been in cages behind glass for weeks, the last products of a cattery that had gone bankrupt. He’d felt sorry for them. More than likely, he told himself, they’d set him up. Cats were masters of the subtle suggestion. It was amazing how a fat, healthy cat could present itself as an emaciated, starving orphan. They were still playing mind tricks on him after four years of co-existence. It still worked, too.

He thought about Violet and her mother, and remembered that the elderly Mrs. Hardy was allergic to fur. Violet loved animals. She kept little figurines of cats on her desk. He’d never asked her to his home, but he was certain that she’d love his cats. He imagined she’d have Duke Wright bringing calves right up to the porch for her to pet.

His eyes flashed at the thought of Violet getting involved with the other man. Wright was bitter over the divorce and the custody suit his wife had brought against him. He blamed Kemp for it, but Kemp was only doing what any other attorney would have done in his place. If the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Wright was as happy as she seemed in that high-powered property law job she held in New York City, she wasn’t likely to ever come home. She loved the little boy as much as Duke did, and she felt it was better not to have him dangling between two parents. Kemp didn’t agree. A child had two parents. It would only lead to grief to deny access to either of them.

He shook his head. What a pity that people had children before they thought about the consequences. They never improved a bad marriage. Kemp’s clientele shot that truth home every time he handled a divorce case. The children were always the ones who suffered most.

Beka Wright had never admitted it, and Kemp never pried, but local gossip had it that Duke had deliberately hidden her birth control pills at a critical time, hoping that a baby would cure her of ambition. It hadn’t. He was an overbearing sort of man, who expected a woman to do exactly what he told her to do. His father had been the same, a domineering autocrat whose poor wife had walked in a cold rain with pneumonia while he was out of town one January weekend in a last, fatal attempt to escape him. Death had spared her further abuse. Duke had grown up with that same autocratic attitude and assumed that it was the way a normal man dealt with his wife. He was learning to his cost that marriage meant compromise.

Blake looked around at his house with its Western motifs, burgundy leather mingling with dark oak and cherry wood furniture. The carpet and the curtains were earth tones. He enjoyed a quiet atmosphere after the turmoil of his working life. But he wondered what a woman would do with the décor.

Mee curled her claws into his arm. He winced, and moved them. She was sound asleep, but when she felt his hand on her, she snuggled closer and started purring.

He laughed softly. No, he wasn’t the marrying sort. He was a gourmet cook. He did his own laundry and housework. He could sew on a button or make a bed. Like most other ex-special forces officers, he was independent and self-sufficient. A veteran of the first war with Iraq, he mustered out with the rank of captain. He’d been in the Army reserves after he graduated from law school and started practicing in Jacobsville, and his unit had been called up. He and Cag Hart had served in the same mechanized division. Few people knew that, because he and Cag didn’t talk much about the missions they’d shared. It forged bonds that noncombatants could not understand.

He reached for the remote control and changed the channel. He paused on the weather channel to see when the rain was going to stop, and then went on to the History channel, where he spent most of his free time in the evenings. He often thought that if he ever came across a woman who enjoyed military history, he might be coaxed into rejoining the social scene.

But then he remembered the woman he’d lost, and the ache started all over again. He turned up the volume and leaned back, his mind shifting to the recounting of Alexander the Great’s final successful campaign against the Persian king Darius in 331 B.C. at Gaugemela.

Violet was late getting home the following Friday. She’d stopped by the gym and then remembered that there was no milk in the house. She’d gone by the grocery store as well. When she pulled up into the driveway of the small, rickety rental house, she found her mother sitting on the ground beside the small flower garden at the porch steps. Mrs. Hardy wasn’t moving.

Panicking, Violet jumped out of her car without bothering to close the door, and ran toward her parent.

“Mama!” she screamed.

Her mother jerked, just faintly. Her blue eyes were startled as she turned her head and looked at her daughter. She was breathing heavily. But she laughed. “Darling, it’s all right!” she said at once. “I just got winded, that’s all! I’m all right!”

Violet knelt beside her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Her face was white. She was shaking.

“Oh, baby.” Mrs. Hardy winced as she reached out and cuddled Violet close, whispering soft endearments. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wanted to weed my flower bed and put out those little seedlings I’d grown in the kitchen window. I just worked a little too hard, that’s all. See? I’m fine.”

Violet pulled back, terrified. Her mother was all she had in the world. She loved her so much. How would she go on living if she lost her mother? That fear was written all over her.

Mrs. Hardy winced when she saw it. She hugged Violet close. “Violet,” she said sadly, “one day you’ll have to let me go. You know that.”

“I’m not ready yet,” Violet sobbed.

Mrs. Hardy sighed. She kissed Violet’s dark hair. “I know,” she murmured, her eyes faraway as they looked toward the horizon. “Neither am I.”

Later, as they sat over bowls of hot soup and fresh corn bread, Mrs. Hardy studied her daughter with concern.

“Violet, are you sure you’re happy working at Duke Wright’s place?” she asked.

“Of course I am,” Violet said stolidly.

“I think Mr. Kemp would like it if you went back to work with him.”

Violet stared at her with her spoonful of soup in midair. “Why would you say that, Mama?”

“Mabel, who works at your office, stopped by to see me at lunch. She says Mr. Kemp is so moody they can hardly work with him anymore. She said she thinks he misses you.”

Violet’s heart jumped. “That wasn’t how he sounded when I ran into him in the post office the other day,” she said. “But he was acting…oddly.”

The older woman smiled over her soup spoon. “Often men don’t know what they want until they lose it.”

“Bring on the day.” Violet laughed softly.

“So, dear, back to my first question. Do you like your new job?”

She nodded. “It’s challenging. I don’t have to deal with sad, angry, miserable people whose lives are in pieces. You know, I didn’t realize until I changed jobs how depressing it is to work in a law office. You see such tragedies.”

“I suppose cattle are a lot different.”

“There’s just so much to learn,” Violet agreed. “It’s so complex. There are so many factors that produce good beef. I thought it was only a matter of putting bulls and heifers in the same pasture and letting nature do its work.”

“It isn’t?” her mother asked, curious.

Violet grinned. “Want to know how it works?”

“Yes, indeed.”

So Violet spent the next half hour walking her mother, hy-pothetically speaking, through the steps involved in creating designer beef.

“Well!” the elderly woman exclaimed. “It isn’t simple at all.”

“No, it isn’t. The records are so complicated…”

The sudden ringing of the telephone interrupted Violet. She frowned. “It’s probably another telemarketer,” she muttered. “I wish we could afford one of those new answering machines and caller ID.”

“One day a millionaire will walk in the front door carrying a glass slipper and an engagement ring,” Mrs. Hardy ventured with a mischievous glance.

Violet laughed as she got up and went to answer the phone. “Hardy residence,” she said in her light, friendly tone.

“Violet?”

It was Kemp! She had to catch her breath before she could even answer him. “Yes, sir?” she stammered.

He hesitated. “I have to talk to you and your mother. It’s important. May I come over?”

Violet’s mind raced. The house was a mess. She was a mess. She was wearing jeans and a shirt that didn’t fit. Her hair needed washing. The living room needed vacuuming…!

“Who is it, dear?” Mrs. Hardy called.

“It’s Mr. Kemp, Mama. He says he needs to speak to us.”

“Isn’t it nice that we have some of that pound cake left?” Mrs. Hardy wondered aloud. “Tell him to come right on, dear.”

Violet ground her teeth together. “It’s all right,” she told Kemp.

“Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hung up before Violet could ask him what he wanted.

She turned worriedly to her mother. “Do you think it might be something about me coming back to work for him?”

“Who can say? You should wash your hair, dear. You’ll have just enough time.”

“Not to do that and vacuum and pick up around the living room,” she wailed.

“Violet, the chores can wait,” her mother replied amusedly. “You can’t. Go, girl!”

Violet turned like a zombie and went right to the bathroom to wash her hair. By the time she heard Kemp pulling up in the driveway, she had on a nice low-cut short-sleeved blue sweater and clean white jeans. Her hair was clean and she left it down, because she didn’t have time to braid it. She was wearing bedroom shoes, but that wasn’t going to matter, she decided.

She opened the door.

Kemp gave her a quiet going-over with his pale blue eyes. But he didn’t remark about her appearance. He was scowling. “I have something to say that your mother needs to hear, but I don’t want to upset her.”

There went her dreams of being rehired. “What is it about?” she asked.

He drew in a sharp breath. “Violet, I want to have your father exhumed. I think Janet Collins killed him.”

Chapter Three

Violet wasn’t sure she was hearing right. She knew there was something going on with Janet Collins. Curt had come by her office when he carried a note to Duke from Jordan Powell, his boss. He’d told her that he and Libby were going to have to have their father exhumed because there were suspicions that Janet, their stepmother, might have killed him. She was suspected of killing at least one other elderly man by poison. Violet and her mother knew about the waitress Mr. Hardy had had his fling with. But they’d never questioned the cause of death. And they’d never found out who the waitress was. Now, a lot of questions she hadn’t wanted even to ask were suddenly being answered.

Her lips parted on a husky sigh. “Oh, dear.”

Kemp closed the door behind him and tilted Violet’s chin up to his eyes. “I don’t want to do this,” he said softly. “But there’s a very good chance that your father was murdered, Violet. You don’t want Janet Collins to get away with it, if she’s guilty. Neither do I.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “But what about Mama?”

He drew in a long breath. “I have to have her signature. I can’t do it on yours alone.”

They exchanged worried looks.

His eyes suddenly narrowed on her oval face in its frame of dark hair. Her skin was clean and bright. She wasn’t wearing makeup, except a touch of pink lipstick. And that sweater…His eyes slid down to her breasts with quiet sensuality. They narrowed, as he appreciated how deliciously full-breasted she was. She had a small waist, too. The jeans emphasized the nicely rounded contours of her hips.

“I’ve lost weight!” she blurted out.

“Don’t lose any more,” he murmured absently. “You’re perfect.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Sir?” she stammered.

“If I weren’t a confirmed bachelor, you’d make my mouth water,” he replied quietly, and the eyes that met hers were steady, intent.

Her heart began racing. Her knees were weak. He wasn’t blind. Any minute, he was going to notice her helpless, headlong reaction.

“But I am a confirmed bachelor,” he added firmly, as much for his own benefit as for hers. “And this isn’t the time, anyway. May I come in?”

“Of course.” She closed the door behind him, unsettled by what he’d said.

“I planned to come by your office and tell you,” he said, his voice low, “but I got caught at the last minute and by the time I finished with an upset client, you’d already left Wright’s place. I’d hoped to have a little time to prepare you for what we have to do.” He glanced toward the living room door. “How is she?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip. “She’s had a slight spell this week,” she told him worriedly. “She thinks she’s stronger than she really is. Losing Daddy and finding out about his affair ruined her life.”

He bit back a harsh reply. “Should we have the doctor here while I tell her?”

She sighed wearily. “I don’t think it will matter.” She looked up at him. “She has to know. I don’t want Janet Collins to get away with murder. Neither will she. We both loved Daddy, in our way.”

“All right then.” He nodded for her to go ahead of him and he followed her into the room.

Her mother looked up and smiled. “Mr. Kemp! How nice to see you again!”

He smiled, pausing in front of her to shake her hand gently. “It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Hardy. But I’m afraid I may have some upsetting news.”

She put down her knitting and sat up straight. “My daughter thinks I’m a marshmallow,” she said with an impish look at Violet. “But I’m tougher than I look, despite my rickety blood vessels.” She set her lips firmly. “You just tell me what I need to know, and I’ll do what I have to.”

His blue eyes twinkled. “You are a tough nut, aren’t you?” he teased.

She grinned at him, looking far younger than she was. “You bet. Go on. Spill it.”

His smile faded. Violet sat on the arm of her mother’s chair.

“It must be bad, if you’re both expecting me to keel over,” she said. “It’s something about Janet Collins, isn’t it?”

Violet gasped. Kemp’s eyebrows arched over the frames of his glasses.

“I’m not a petunia. I don’t just hang on the porch all the time,” Mrs. Hardy informed them. “I get my hair done, I go to the doctor’s office, I see a lot of people. I know that Libby and Curt Collins are up to their ears in trouble about their stepmother, and there’s a lot of talk that she’s been linked to the death of an old man in a nursing home. They said she took every penny he had. And then she went on to cheat Arthur and me out of our savings, a quarter of a million dollars. It wasn’t ever proven that it was her.”

“I’ve found an eyewitness who thinks she can place Janet Collins at the motel with Arthur the last day of his life,” Kemp told her, “just before the ambulance came to take him to the hospital. She ran out the door and was seen. At the hospital the doctor, not aware of any foul play, diagnosed a heart attack from the symptoms. There was no autopsy.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Hardy said. She gave her audience a knowing look. “And you think she killed him, don’t you?” she asked Kemp.

He was impressed. “Yes, I do,” he told her honestly.

“I didn’t want to think about that, but I’ve had my doubts,” she said. “He never had heart trouble. There had been some mixup at a clinic in San Antonio and he ended up getting a heart catherization that he didn’t really need. What it showed was that his heart and arteries were in fine shape, no blockages at all. So it came as something of a surprise when he died only a month later of a supposed heart attack. But I was far too upset at his affair and his sudden death to think clearly.”

“If it’s any consolation, Janet Collins had a way with men,” Kemp replied. “She was known for playing up to older men, and she isn’t a bad-looking woman. Most men react predictably to a head-on assault.”

Violet was wondering irrelevantly if it would work with Kemp, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

“Arthur had strayed before,” Mrs. Hardy said surprisingly, and with an apologetic glance at Violet. “He was a handsome, vital man, and I was always quiet and shy and rather ordinary.”

“You weren’t ordinary,” Violet protested.

“My people were very wealthy, dear,” she told her daughter sadly. “And Arthur was ambitious. He wanted his own accounting firm, and I helped him get it. Not that he didn’t work hard, but he’d never have made it without my backing. I think that hurt his pride. Maybe his…affairs…were a way of proving to himself that he could still appeal to beautiful women even as he got older. I’m sorry, Violet,” she added, patting her daughter’s thigh. “But parents are human, too. Arthur did love you, and he tried to be a good father, even if he wasn’t a good husband.”

Violet clenched her teeth. She could only imagine how it would have felt to her, if she’d been married and her husband thought nothing of having affairs with other women.

“By the time Arthur started straying,” Mrs. Hardy continued, “I was too fragile to leave him and strike out on my own. There was Violet, who needed both her parents and a stable environment. And I could no longer take care of myself. Arthur paid a price to stay with me, under the circumstances. I don’t really blame him for what he did.”

She did, though, and it showed. Violet hugged her close. “I blame him,” she murmured.

“So do I,” Kemp said, surprisingly firm. “Any honorable man would have asked for a divorce before getting involved with another woman.”

“Why, you Puritan,” Mrs. Hardy accused with a smile.

“I’ve got company,” he jerked his thumb at Violet.

Mrs. Hardy laughed. She folded her hands in her lap. “Okay, so we’ve settled that Arthur probably had an affair with Janet Collins and she may have been responsible for his death. But unless he’s exhumed, and an autopsy done, we can’t prove it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Mr. Kemp?”

“You’re amazing, Mrs. Hardy,” Kemp replied with admiration in his pale blue eyes.

“I’m perceptive. Ask Violet.” The smile faded. “When do you want to do it?”

“As soon as possible. I’ll make the arrangements, if you’re willing. There will be papers to sign. It may make news as well.”

“I can manage. So can Violet,” Mrs. Hardy assured him, smiling up at her daughter.

“I can,” Violet assured him. “We’ll both do whatever’s necessary. Whatever Daddy did, she had no right to kill him.”

“Very well.” Kemp got up from the sofa and shook hands with Mrs. Hardy one last time. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve got things underway. You’re taking this very well.”

“Surprised you, did I?” The elderly woman chuckled.

He nodded. “Pleasantly, at that,” he said, adding a smile. “I’ll see you.” He glanced at Violet. “Walk me to the door.”

She got up and followed him out into the hall, her eyes wide and curious on his face.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked down at her for a long moment with narrow, intent eyes.

“I’ll let you know the details as soon as I work them out with the proper authorities,” he told her. “You think she’ll handle it all right?” he added, alluding to her mother.

“She will,” Violet replied with certainty. She looked up at him with soft, hungry eyes. “How is everything at work?”

He grimaced. “I have to make the coffee myself,” he muttered. “Mabel and Libby don’t make it strong enough. And Mabel is ready to tear her hair out over the extra work. So I guess we’ll be advertising for a new secretary.”

Violet didn’t notice that he had a hopeful, anticipatory look on his face, because her eyes were downcast. She thought he was criticizing her for leaving him in the lurch, and after he’d all but forced her out of his office.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to suit you, Mr. Kemp,” she said in a subdued tone.

The formality and her lack of interest irritated him. He opened the door with a jerk. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and left without even looking back.

Violet closed the door behind him, forcing herself not to look hungrily at his departing back as he left. She’d hoped just for a few seconds that he might be offering her back her old job. That was obviously not the case.

Kemp climbed into his car, irritable and unsettled by Violet’s lack of response when he’d practically laid her old job at her feet. Duke Wright wasn’t bad-looking, and he had an eye for a pretty woman. He was all but divorced now, too. Violet was attractive. He hoped Wright wasn’t trying to turn her head. He was going to check into that. For Violet’s own good, of course. He wasn’t interested in her himself.

Involuntarily, his mind went back eight years, to the only woman he’d really ever loved. Shannon Culbertson had been eighteen the year they started dating. It had been love at first sight for both of them. Kemp, who was already a junior partner in a local law firm, having graduated from college late at the age of twenty-eight, was in practice with Shannon’s uncle. They met at the office and started dating. Within a month, they knew they were going to be married one day. Shannon had gone to a party with a girlfriend, at Julie Merrill’s house. Nobody understood why Julie wanted her worst enemy at the bash, least of all Shannon—but she thought maybe Julie was willing to bury the hatchet over the rivalry of the two girls for senior president. Someone, probably Julie herself, had put a forerunner of the date rape drug into Shannon’s soft drink. She had an undiagnosed heart condition, and the drug had killed her.

It still hurt Kemp to remember the aftermath. He’d mourned her for months, blamed Julie, tried to have her arrested for the crime. But her father was a state senator and wealthy. The case never got to trial, despite Kemp’s best efforts.

He still resented the Merrills. He missed Shannon. But since Violet had come to work for him, he’d thought less and less about his old love. In the mornings, he’d looked forward to Violet’s smiling, happy face in his office. He was afraid of the feeling he got when she nurtured him. He didn’t ever want to risk loving someone again. Tragedy had hallmarked his life. He’d had a sister, Dolores, who’d died in a swimming accident his senior year of high school. His mother had died of cancer soon afterward. There had only been the two of them, because his father had gone overseas to work for an oil company in the Middle East when he was only a child, fallen in love with a French woman, and divorced his mother. He had no contact with his father. He had no interest in him.

The experiences of his life had taught him that love was dangerous, and so was getting too used to people. Violet was still infatuated with him, but she’d get over it, he told himself firmly. Better to let her go. She was young and impressionable. She’d find someone else. Perhaps Duke Wright…

His teeth clenched hard on the thought. It was strangely uncomfortable to think of Violet in some other man’s arms. Very uncomfortable.

Violet looked up from her typing one morning at the sound of approaching voices, and was surprised to find Curt Collins, Libby Collins’s brother, standing at her desk.

“Curt’s just joined the operation, Violet,” Duke Wright told her with a grin. “We’ve stolen him from Jordan Powell.”

“It wasn’t much of a steal,” Curt drawled with a grim smile. “I quit my job. Jordan’s changed lately.”

“Curt’s going to help with the cattle operation,” Duke told Violet. “If he needs any information, you can give it directly to him without having to ask me first,” he added with a smile.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Come on, Curt, I’ll show you around the rest of the operation,” the older cattleman beckoned.

“See you later, Violet,” Curt murmured.

She nodded, smiling. She watched them leave, frowning. Libby was crazy about Jordan Powell, and Curt had worked for him for years. What in the world was going on?

Curt came by just as she was getting her things together. “I suppose you’re wondering how I landed here,” he said.

She nodded. “It’s a bit of a surprise,” she replied.

“Have you talked to Kemp lately?”

Her heart jumped just at the sound of his name, but she recovered quickly. “No. I haven’t spoken to him for a week or two, I guess.”

“There’s been some unpleasantness, shall we say, between Libby and Julie Merrill.”

Violet looked blank. “I wasn’t aware that they even knew each other,” she replied.

“They’re not even acquaintances,” Curt agreed. “But Julie wants Jordan, and Libby was getting in the way.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, Julie attacked Libby and Jordan didn’t stand up for her. Jordan made some nasty remarks to Libby.” He shrugged. “I’m not working for any man who bad-mouths my sister.”

“I don’t blame you one bit. Poor Libby!”

“She can take care of herself on good days,” he said. “But Julie has some unsavory friends. Sadly for her, she walked into Kemp’s office while Libby was there.”

“Excuse me?”

He smiled. “You don’t know, do you? There’s bad blood between Kemp and Julie. She had a party at her house eight years ago and invited Shannon Culbertson, who was all but engaged to Kemp at the time. There was a rivalry between Shannon and Julie for a class office at school. Somebody put something in Shannon’s drink. She died. Julie got the office.”

“She was poisoned?” Violet exclaimed, fascinated by this private look at her taciturn boss’s life. So he had a woman in his past after all. Was that why he didn’t have much to do with women now? It made her sad to think there was another woman in his life, even a ghost. How could a living woman compete with a perfect memory?

“She wasn’t poisoned. She had a hidden heart condition,” he corrected. “Anyway, she died. Kemp never got over it. He did his best to have Julie tried for it, but her father had plenty of money and plenty of influence. It was listed as a tragic accident with no explanation, and the case was closed. Kemp would hang Julie if he could ever find an excuse to get her in court.” He leaned forward. “Just between you and me, that might happen. Senator Merrill got busted for drunk driving. Now he and his nephew the mayor are trying to get the arresting officers fired—and Chief Cash Grier, too.”

Violet’s mind had to jump-shift back to the subject at hand. She was still taking in Kemp’s secret past, one that she hadn’t even expected. “That’ll be the day, when Chief Grier will let his officers go down the drain without a fight.”

“Exactly what most of us think,” Curt said. “Grier is hell on drug traffickers. Which brings to mind one other rumor that’s going around—that Julie has her finger in a nasty white powder distribution network.”

Violet whistled. “Some news!”

“Keep it to yourself, too,” he admonished. “But the point of the thing is, I was without a job and Duke said I could work for him.”

“Welcome aboard, as one refugee to another.”

“That’s right, you and Kemp had a mixer, too, didn’t you?” He smiled wryly. “Libby told me,” he added when she looked surprised. “But I heard it from three other people as well. You don’t keep secrets in a town like Jacobsville. We’re all one big family. We know all about each other.”

She smiled. “I suppose we do.”

“How’s your mother taking the exhumation?”

The smile faded. “She says it’s not bothering her, but I know it is. She’s very old-fashioned about things like that.”

He looked angry. “We feel the same way. But we had to let them exhume Dad, too. Nobody wants Janet to walk away from another murder.”

“That’s how Mama and I feel,” Violet agreed. “But it really is hard. Have you heard anything yet?”

He shook his head. “They say the results will take time. The state crime lab is backed up, so it won’t be a quick process. That will make it worse, I guess.”

She nodded. “But we’ll get through it, won’t we?” she added.

He smiled at her determination. “You bet we will.”

Blake Kemp was fuming. He’d been so busy with work that he’d forgotten the exhumations until Libby had actually asked him about them. He’d promised her that he’d get right on it. But the disturbing news had nothing to do with possible murders. It had to do with the fact that Curt Collins, Libby’s brother, was taking Violet to Calhoun Ballenger’s volunteer staff meeting at his ranch on the following Saturday.

He’d been worried about Violet letting Duke Wright turn her head, and here she was going on a date with a very eligible, upstanding member of a founding family of Jacobsville, Texas. Even Kemp couldn’t claim descent from old John Jacobs himself. Duke might have a lot of warts, but Curt was a fine young man with a promising future. And Violet was going to date him.

He didn’t understand his own violent opposition to that pairing. Violet was nothing to him, after all. She was just his ex-secretary. He had no right to care if she had a private life.

But he did care. The thought of her with Curt made him uneasy. He knew Calhoun Ballenger from years past. He frequently handled cases for him. He admired and respected the local feedlot owner. There was no reason he couldn’t get himself invited to that meeting. He just wanted to make sure Violet didn’t do something stupid, like falling into Curt’s arms at the first opportunity. It was his duty to protect her. Sort of. He picked up the phone and dialed Calhoun’s number, refusing to consider his motives in any personal way.

The meeting was riotous. There were people gathered around the big recreation room that Kemp hadn’t seen face-to-face in years. Some were frankly a surprise, because at least two of the county’s biggest Republican contributors were in the front row.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Police Chief Cash Grier asked him with a grin, noting the direction Kemp was staring. “Ballenger’s crossing party lines all over the place. He’s well-known in cattlemen’s circles, and locally he’s the original hometown boy who came out of poverty to become a millionaire. He did it without any under-the-table dealings as well, I hear.”

“That’s right,” Kemp told him. “Calhoun and his brother, Justin, were the poorest kids around. They made their fortunes honestly. They both married well, too.”

“Calhoun’s wife was his ward, they say,” Grier mused.

“Yes, and Justin married a direct descendant of Big John Jacobs, the founder of Jacobsville. Between them, they’ve got six boys. Not a girl in either family.”

At the mention of children, Grier became quiet. He and his houseguest, Tippy Moore, a rising movie star, had lost their baby just before Tippy’s little brother was kidnapped and held for ransom. Tippy had traded herself for him, an act of courage that still made Grier proud. Their relationship was rocky even now, and Tippy was a potential victim of one of the kidnappers who’d eluded police in Manhattan.

Kemp glanced at him, aware of the older man’s discomfort. “Sorry,” he murmured. He knew about the baby because the story, a false and very unflattering one, had played out in the tabloids when Tippy had miscarried.

Grier let out a long breath. “I never knew I wanted kids,” he said quietly, not meeting Kemp’s gaze. “Hell of a way to find out I did.”

“Life evens out,” Kemp said philosophically. “You have bad days, then you have good ones to make up for them.”

Grier’s dark eyes twinkled. “I’m due about two years of good days.”

Kemp laughed without humor. “Aren’t we all?”

Grier’s attention was captured by someone behind Kemp. He pursed his lips. “Your ex-secretary sure has changed.”

Kemp was aware of his heart jumping at the statement. He turned his head and there was Violet. But she looked very different. She was wearing a neat little black skirt with a dropped-waist blue top that was cut modestly low in front. Her hair was around her shoulders, but it had frosted tips. She looked ten pounds lighter, and very pretty.

She noticed Kemp and her heart raced. Beside her Curt was watching the byplay with amusement, because Kemp couldn’t seem to help staring any more than Violet could.

“I need to talk to someone,” he told Violet. “Can you manage without me for a few minutes?”

“Yes!” She curbed her enthusiasm. “I mean, yes, that would be all right, Curt. Thanks.”

He chuckled, winked at her, and strolled off.

Kemp walked up to her. He was dressed in an open-necked shirt with a sports coat and navy slacks. He looked expensive, sophisticated, and good enough to eat. Violet could hardly keep her eyes off him.

He was having a similar problem. It was odd how much Violet had been on his mind lately. He saw her in the office even when she wasn’t there. He’d been uneasy since he’d seen her at her mother’s house, and they’d parted on a harsh note.

“Still like working for Duke?” he queried stiffly.

She shrugged. “It’s a job.”

His eyebrow jerked. “Your hair looks nice,” he murmured, reaching out to take a strand of it in his strong fingers. “I don’t like frosting as a rule, but it suits you. You’ve lost more weight, too, haven’t you?”

“It may look like it, but I haven’t really,” she replied, lost in a haze because of contact with him. “I’ve just been learning how to dress to make the most of what I have.”

His eyes slid up to meet hers. “That’s what life is all about, Violet,” he said gently. “Learning how to make do with what we’re given. You don’t need to lose any more weight. You look great.”

She flushed and smiled radiantly. “Do you…really think so?”

He moved a step closer, aware of pleasure centers opening all over his mind as he looked down at her. “Do you like trout?”

It was an odd question. She blinked. “Trout? Well, yes.”

“Why don’t you come over for lunch tomorrow? I’ll fry trout and make a pasta salad to go with them. You can take some home to your mother.”

Violet’s jaw dropped. She stood gaping at him while she tried to decide, quickly, if she’d lost her mind and was having hallucinations.

Chapter Four

Her lack of response made Kemp uneasy and provoked a sarcastic response. He’d thought she’d jump at the chance. “What’s the matter?” Kemp taunted. “Afraid to be alone with me outside the office?”

Violet gaped at him. “I am not…no…I don’t think…I didn’t say…” She cleared her throat. “I love trout. So does Mama.”

His eyes twinkled. So he hadn’t been wrong. She did still care about him. “So do I,” he replied. “I panfry it in butter and spices. I have my own herb garden, even in the winter.”

“It sounds delicious,” she said breathlessly.

He still had the strand of her hair in his fingers. They became caressing, and his deep voice dropped even lower. “Do you like cats?”

She nodded.

“You may have a little trouble with Mee and Yow at first, but they’ll get used to you.”

Violet felt as if she’d stepped off a precipice and solved the mystery of free flight. She was ecstatic. “I think cats are beautiful.”

“Mine are Siamese. They’re unique.”

She smiled slowly. “I’ll enjoy meeting them.”

He let go of her hair and touched her soft cheek with his fingertips. They seemed to tingle at the contact. “About one in the afternoon tomorrow suit you?”

She nodded, speechless.

“Know how to get to my house?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, and could have bitten her tongue for sounding so enthusiastic.

Kemp was eating it up. He knew it was a bad idea, encouraging her. At some point he was going to have to back away from her. He didn’t want commitment. Not yet. But Violet was soft to the touch and lovely to look at. He’d been without a woman in his life for a long time. He was lonely. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have the occasional meal with her. Of course it wouldn’t. He was enjoying her rapt expression. She made him feel as if he could conquer the world. For once in his life he was going to jump in with both feet without counting the cost.

“Then I’ll expect you,” he added.

She smiled up at him, her blue eyes wide and soft and hungry. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said huskily.

“So will I,” he replied, and the smile faded for an instant as he searched her eyes for so long that she flushed and her breath rustled wildly in her throat.

“Kemp! Glad you could make it!” Tall, handsome Calhoun Ballenger moved forward to shake Kemp’s hand and greet Violet. “Kemp, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to. Violet, you don’t mind?”

“No, not at all,” she lied.

“Tomorrow, at one,” Kemp added before he walked away with Calhoun.

“Tomorrow,” she replied.

Curt had to ask her twice if she was ready to leave. She hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to Kemp any further, and he’d been called away suddenly to meet with a man who’d just been arrested. Before he left, he’d looked back at Violet with pale blue eyes that absolutely smoldered. She was still tingling an hour after he’d gone.

“What?” she asked abruptly, facing Curt. She flushed when he grinned. “Sorry,” she began.

“Oh, I’m not upset,” he replied, chuckling. “I’m glad to see that your ex-boss finally realized what he was missing.”

She flushed even more. “It’s not like that.”

“I’m a man, Violet,” he reminded her as they walked out to his car after making their goodbyes to their host. “I know a smitten man when I see one. Kemp’s got it bad.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked hopefully.

“I think so. Just go slowly,” he advised. “He’s pretty much a loner and he doesn’t play around.”

“I knew that already.”

He turned toward her, serious for once. “What I meant,” he said softly, “is that he’s more vulnerable than a man who plays the field. And everybody knows he’s not a marrying man, at least not visibly. You just step carefully, okay?”

“I will. Thanks for the advice, Curt.”

He shrugged. “Story of my life. I’m always someone’s big brother.”

She grinned. “One day some lucky girl will carry you off,” she promised.

He smiled back. “I hope it’s a few years coming. I’m no more ready to settle down than your friend Kemp is. At least he’s got a profession. I’m still drifting.”

“Libby said you wanted to open a feed store.”

He nodded. “It’s the dream of my life.”

“I hope you get to do it, Curt. I mean that.”

He opened the door for her. “So do I. You’re a nice girl, Violet.”

“You’re a nice man.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m accommodating, at least. Calhoun had quite a crowd today,” he added when he’d climbed in under the wheel of his and Libby’s old pickup truck.

“A big one. And some big money, too. I think he just may beat Senator Merrill for the Democratic nomination.”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised myself.”

Violet told her mother about Kemp’s invitation, and Mrs. Hardy grinned from ear to ear. “And how long have I been telling you that Mr. Kemp had more interest in you than a boss in his secretary?” she asked.

“It’s only to eat a trout,” Violet replied.

“He can eat trout by himself,” her mother said sagely. “It’s also interesting that Mr. Kemp, who never advertises his political affiliations, suddenly turned up at a campaign meeting.”

“He likes Mr. Ballenger.”

Mrs. Hardy pursed her lips. “I think somebody told him you were going to the meeting with Curt Collins.”

She gasped. “Really?”

“Sometimes a man doesn’t appreciate what he’s got until some other man wants it. Or he thinks another man wants it.” Mrs. Hardy’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll see, won’t we, dear?”

Violet colored prettily and suggested a television program.

She didn’t sleep. All night long, she saw Blake Kemp’s eyes drilling into her own, she heard his voice, felt the touch of his fingers on her face. She tried on everything in her closet the next morning before she finally decided on a nice ankle-length sky-blue knit jumper with a white blouse under it and her embroidered denim jacket over it. She left her hair long.

“You look fine,” Mrs. Hardy said from her bed when Violet went in to say goodbye.

“Are you sure you feel all right?” Violet worried.

“I’m just going to have a lazy Sunday,” the older woman replied, smiling. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“All right. But if you need me…”

“The phone’s right here, darling.” Mrs. Hardy indicated it on the bedside table. “Now go and have a good time. I won’t expect my trout anytime soon, by the way, and I’ve already had my breakfast.”

“I’ll bring you back something nice,” Violet promised.

“Drive carefully.”

Violet kissed her. “Always!”

She stopped on the front porch and looked down at her black loafers, worn with knee-high hose. She grimaced, because one of them was scuffed. But, she reasoned, Kemp was going to be more interested in the rest of her than in her shoes. She straightened her purse’s shoulder strap over her shoulder and walked resolutely to her old but reliable car.

Kemp was on the front porch of his house when she drove up. It was a Victorian, with gingerbread patterned woodwork and a real turret room. The whole thing was painted white, brilliant and new-looking, and there was a porch swing and rocking chairs on the long, wide front porch. There were bird feeders everywhere. In the flower gardens flanking the porch, seeds were sprouting and rosebushes were putting out buds.

Violet took her purse and locked the car involuntarily before she pocketed her car key and walked up the steps.

“You like birds!” she exclaimed.

He laughed. He was dressed casually, as she was, in khaki slacks and a blue knit designer shirt darker than the shade of his eyes behind the metal rims of his glasses.

“Yes, I like birds. But so do Mee and Yow, so I have to make sure they’re both inside before I fill the feeders,” he said on a chuckle.

“I have bird feeders at our place, too,” Violet replied shyly. “I especially like the little birds, like the wrens and titmice.”

“I prefer cardinals and blue jays.”

“They’re still birds,” Violet said on a laugh.

He felt as if his feet were off the floor as he looked at her. Smiles transformed her oval face, made it bright and radiant—almost beautiful.

“Do you hire a gardener, or do you work in the yard yourself?” she asked, enthusiastic about the mass of flowering shrubs around the front yard.

“I do it,” he replied. “I need to unwind from time to time.”

“Yes, gardening is good for stress,” she admitted. “I go through a lot of it myself. But I plant vegetables in our little garden, and I can or freeze them for the winter.” She stopped suddenly, embarrassed, because the garden was a necessity for Violet and her mother, who had to budget furiously just to make ends meet. She doubted seriously if Kemp had ever budgeted in his life.

“I don’t grow vegetables,” he confessed. “Unless you count catnip, for the cats, and some herbs. I enjoy cooking.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Mama can do it, but I don’t like to let her. She favors cast iron cookware, and it’s heavy.”

“She shouldn’t be lifting it,” he agreed. “I hope you’re hungry.”

She smiled. “I didn’t even eat breakfast.”

He smiled back. “Come in, then. It’s all ready.”

He opened the front door and let her walk in. There was a long hall with an elephant umbrella stand and a coatrack, with rooms opening off it on either side.

“Down the hall, to the left,” he directed as he closed the front door.

The hall was painted a pale blue, with a chair rail in a darker shade, and wallpaper up to the crown. There was a pale blue carpet as well.

“You’re probably thinking that it’s hard to keep clean,” Kemp remarked as he followed behind her. “And you’re right. I have a cleaning crew come in to steam it frequently.”

“I love the color,” she remarked. “It reminds me of the ocean.”

He laughed out loud. “It’s the color of Yow’s eyes,” he added. “And she knows it. She loves to sprawl on the carpet. Mee prefers the couch or my bed.”

Violet caught her breath as she walked into the formal dining room. There was a cherry wood table, already set with linen and crystal and china, and beyond it was a kitchen that would have been any cook’s dream. There was a tile floor, modern appliances, a huge combination sink, and a counter big enough to use for dressing half a steer. Over the sink was a large window overlooking the pasture and forest behind the house.

“I’ll bet you enjoy working in here,” she remarked.

“I do. I like enough space to move in. Cramped kitchens are the very devil.”

“Indeed they are, and I could write you a book on them,” Violet confessed. “I bump into the refrigerator or the stove every time I turn around at home.”

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, opening the refrigerator. “I’ve got soft drinks, iced tea, or coffee.”

“I love coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

He grinned at her. “I always have a pot warming,” he said.

He got down two china cups and saucers and poured coffee into them. “Cream and sugar on the table.”

He carried them to the places, which were already set, amid platters of fish, vegetables, fresh rolls and even a cake.

“This looks wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“I counted on your being punctual,” he said with a glance. “You always are.”

He seated her, and then himself.

“I like to make a good impression,” she told him.

He chuckled. “Help yourself.”

She looked around curiously as she helped herself to trout and rolls and a potato casserole that smelled delicious. “Where are the cats?”

“They’re shy around people they don’t know,” he said nonchalantly. “They’ll show up when I cut the cake. They beg for cake.”

“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.

He laughed. “I’m not. You’ll see.”

They spoke about the upcoming election and the local political gossip during the meal. Violet was impressed with his culinary skills. He was an accomplished cook.

“Have you always been able to knock out a meal?” she wondered aloud.

“I was in the Army—special forces,” he replied simply. “I had to learn how to cook.”

“You were in Cag Hart’s division, weren’t you?”

He nodded. “So was Matt Caldwell. A lot of local guys turned up there.”

She didn’t know how far to push her luck. Someone had told her that he didn’t like to talk about his unit’s participation in the earlier Iraq conflict. But he got up to slice cake and two Siamese voices grew louder.

“See?” he asked, when the cats appeared on either side of him, their faces lifted as they meowed, sounding for all the world like little children.

“They have unique voices, don’t they?” she asked, fascinated.

“They do. And Siamese have one other peculiarity—they can reach completely behind their heads. They have claws and they aren’t shy about using them,” he added with a warning glance. “Go slowly, and everything will be all right.”

“Do you give them cake?” she asked.

He laughed. “Tiny little bites,” he said, confessing. “I don’t want to make them fat…”

Violet flushed red.

He ground his teeth and looked at her soulfully. “I didn’t mean that the way you’re taking it, Violet,” he said gently. “I don’t think you’re fat. You look exactly as a woman should look, in every way.”

“You said…” she began.

“I took a bad day out on you,” he replied, “and I’m sorrier than you know. It was a vicious thing to do. I made you quit, and I never meant to.”

For an apology, it was wholesale and flattering. She looked at him without blinking. “Really?”

He relaxed when he saw the combined pleasure and fascination in her face. She made him tingle just by looking at him. He wanted to drag her out of her chair and kiss the breath from her body. The thought shocked him. He stood with the knife poised over the cake, just staring at her.

The flush grew. She felt her heart racing like mad in her chest. Her lips parted as she tried to breathe normally.

“A lot of it was the way you dressed,” he said tautly when he managed to drag his eyes back to the cake. “I like the new wardrobe. It fits properly. Baggy dresses and blouses aren’t flattering for a full-figured woman.”

She didn’t take offense. He was looking at her as if he wanted, very badly, to kiss her. As he slid a piece of cake onto a saucer and put it in front of her, she looked up into his pale eyes with pure lust.

It had been a long time between women, but Kemp hadn’t forgotten the way a woman looked when she wanted to be kissed. Absently, his lean hand went to the back of Violet’s chair and he bent toward her confidently.

Her intake of breath made him hesitate, but only for a second. His other hand came up to her softly rounded chin and he tilted it up, just a fraction. “Don’t make such heavy weather of it,” he whispered as his mouth hovered over hers. “I want to kiss you as you much as you want me to.”

“Re…really?” she choked.

He smiled gently. “Really.”

His lips teased over her full mouth, nibbling her upper lip while he tasted it with a lazy stroke of his tongue. Violet jumped and shivered. The contact was completely out of her experience. She’d dated a few boys, but she didn’t seem to appeal to any of them physically. This was different. She wished she knew what to do, so that he wouldn’t stop.

He lifted his head and looked into her rapt, expectant eyes. She was breathing like a distance runner. Her breasts were shaking under the whip of her pulse. He’d thought she was at least a little experienced, but it seemed he was wrong.

His thumb moved to her lower lip and tugged it down gently as his head bent again.

“We have to start somewhere,” he breathed as his mouth opened against her full, soft lips.

Violet shivered. Her hands went to his arms, her fingers digging in. He was muscular. He didn’t look muscular in his suits, but she could feel the strength at this range. She moaned, a whisper of sound that drew his head up.

His eyes met hers, and there was no teasing in them now. They were intent, darker, hungry.

Her fingers lifted to his cheek, hesitantly. “Don’t…stop,” she pleaded in a soft, shaky whisper.

A muscle in his jaw tensed. He bent again, his own heart racing. “Violet,” he whispered.

This time the kiss wasn’t teasing, tender, or brief. He ground his mouth into her soft lips. She moaned again, and this time her hands met behind his neck and dug in. His mouth grew demanding.

There was another moan, but this one wasn’t passionate.

His head jerked back. Violet reached down and grabbed her ankle just as Yow drew back, hissing.

“Yow!” Kemp exclaimed, moving around the chair to shoo the cat away while he knelt and examined Violet’s ankle. It was bleeding. “I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world!”

“I must have stepped on her tail, poor thing,” Violet faltered. It was exciting to kiss Blake Kemp. It was equally exciting to have him at her feet, concerned for her.

“You were kissing me,” he corrected. “They’re jealous of any attention I pay to other people.”

“This has…happened before?” she asked miserably.

“Yes. Well, no, not like this,” he said. “Mee sank her teeth into Cy Parks one day when he was having coffee with me in the kitchen.”

“I see,” she began.

He gave her a wicked grin. “I wasn’t kissing him.”

She burst out laughing.

He stood up, pulling back her chair. He tugged her to her feet and suddenly swung her up into his arms. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders.

He raised an eyebrow rakishly. “Now it’s my ankles that will be in danger. I have to clean that and put antiseptic ointment on it,” he mused as he turned and carried her down the hall toward the bedrooms.

“I’m too heavy!” she protested.

“You’re not,” he assured her. He looked down at her in his arms. He felt several inches taller. She was delightful close up. He enjoyed kissing her. He’d liked to have done it again, but this wasn’t the time.

He put her down on the vanity in the huge, blue-patterned tile bathroom. There was a whirlpool bath and an enormous space that held commode, vanity, chair, and a linen closet, as well as a large medicine chest.

He fumbled in the chest for what he needed, tugged a washcloth out of a drawer and proceeded to clean and bandage the wound.

Yow peered into the bathroom, her blue eyes huge in her triangle-shaped face.

“No tuna for you tonight, young lady,” Blake told her firmly.

She flattened her ears and hissed at Violet.

“And none tomorrow, either,” he added curtly.

Yow turned her back and flounced out. Mee, in a conciliatory tone, meowed at the door and walked in, watching the byplay curiously but without much antagonism.

“Beautiful girl,” Violet mused, lowering her fingers for the cat to sniff.

Mee sniffed them, rubbed her face against them, and then wrapped her lean body around Violet’s legs.

“You can have tuna,” Blake told the cat.

The purring grew louder.

Violet stroked the cat, but her eyes and her heart were on Blake’s bent head as he put a sticky bandage over the scratch.

“It should be fine,” he said.

“Of course it will be,” she assured him, smiling down as he finished. “Thanks.”

“I’m really sorry,” he said again as he gathered up the first aid supplies and put them away. “Yow’s spoiled.”

“I love cats,” Violet said, still stroking Mee. “I’d have loved to have some, if Mama wasn’t allergic.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without mine. Although there are times when I’m tempted to try,” he added, with a glowering look toward the door where Yow had reappeared and was hissing again.

“You live alone,” she said. “It’s natural that they’d resent strangers.”

He bent down and drew her gently to her feet. “You’re no stranger,” he said huskily as his eyes searched hers. “I don’t think you ever were.”

She felt such elation that she could hardly get her breath. Just weeks ago they’d been mortal enemies. Then, suddenly, they were almost intimate. It was a shock. It was…wonderful.

“Your eyes can’t hide anything,” he murmured, bending toward her.

She glanced worriedly at her ankles, and he laughed.

He picked her up again, shifting her in his arms. “Feel safer?” he murmured, staring at her mouth.

“Much,” she agreed, and her arms tightened boldly around his neck.

With a long sigh, he bent his head and kissed her, very tenderly. His teeth nibbled at her lower lip until her mouth opened. He took immediate advantage of the opportunity, and she felt her whole body go hot as he dragged her closer, so that her full breasts rubbed against his muscular chest.

He groaned, and the kiss grew hotter, longer, more passionate. His arms contracted hungrily.

She gave him back the kiss with more enthusiasm than expertise, but he didn’t seem to mind. She sighed under the hard crush of his mouth and sank into dreams. It was sweeter than she’d ever dared hope it might be.

She felt as if her whole body was shattering with pleasure.

Blake’s head lifted. He turned it, listening. That hadn’t been her imagination. Something really had shattered. “Yow!” he growled.

He put Violet down and rushed back down the hall ahead of her. He made it into the dining room just in time to see Yow feasting on Violet’s piece of cake, on the floor, in the ruins of the saucer it had been placed in.

“Yow!” he bit off.

The cat jumped back and hissed at Violet. For good measure she hissed at Blake, too, and ran quickly out of the room.

Mee, seeing an opening, rubbed against Blake’s legs while she eyed the cake on the floor.

Blake picked up the saucer pieces. While he was putting them into the trash, Mee grabbed up a piece of cake and trotted into the kitchen with it.

“That cat,” he was muttering.

Violet was chuckling, happier than she’d been in years, despite the cat’s antagonism. It was a rare look at Blake’s private life, at the man he was when he wasn’t working. She liked what she saw. His affection for the cats was obvious, even through his frustration with Yow.

“They’re very different, aren’t they?” she asked while he took the lion’s share of the cake away from a frustrated Mee and put it in the trash, too.

“They’re maddening from time to time,” he admitted. “But I suppose they’d taste terrible, even if I do have infrequent visions of serving them up in a casserole.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she exclaimed, laughing.

He shrugged. “Well, not sober,” he confessed.

She grinned at him, her whole face radiant with the sudden, new relationship that was building between them.

She looked so pretty that Blake stopped what he was doing and just stared at her. Why hadn’t he realized how pretty she was? he wondered.

Violet saw the look and was mesmerized by it. She stood staring back at him, while time stood still around them.

Chapter Five

Violet folded her hands in front of her, self-consciously. “I really like your house,” she said, for something to break the silence.

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

“I like the cats, too. In spite of everything,” she added. “It’s only a scratch.”

He glowered toward the doorway, where Yow was looking in again. Mee was still twirling around Violet’s ankles. “We’ll have to work on Yow’s social skills. Maybe she lacks proper company. I might buy her a dog.”

“You wouldn’t!” Violet exclaimed, laughing.

He gave her a wicked look. “A big, ugly dog with a bad attitude,” he added.

“You’d turn up in court as a defendant.”

“Not unless Yow can afford legal representation,” he assured her.

She laughed. It was amazing how carefree she felt with him, a man who’d intimidated her from their very first meeting when she’d worked for him. He was another man entirely away from the office.

“Well, there’s still cake,” he pointed out. “We’d better get it while we can, before Yow tries again.”

“What kind is it?” she asked as she seated herself at the table again.

“Pound cake. It’s the only cake I can do myself.”

“My favorite kind, too. I can make a layer cake, but I like these better.”

He put a slice on a plate, and a fork, in front of her. “More coffee?”

“Please,” she replied.

He poured more coffee and they settled down with their cake, but she noticed that Blake kept a careful eye on the doorway in case Yow made another appearance.

He wouldn’t let her help with the dishes, insisting that he could do them later. Instead, he walked her out onto the porch and settled her beside him in the porch swing.

“I love this,” she said. “We used to have a porch swing, before we lost everything,” she mused. “I loved sitting in it, especially in the spring and summer. We had a big yard with pecan trees and a mesquite tree, and Mama had a flower garden, very much like yours.”

He slid his arm behind her head and curled his long fingers comfortably into her hair. “It must be hard for both of you.”

“We’re getting by,” she said softly. “I don’t really mind. I’m just sorry about Daddy, and how he died.” She looked up at him. “You haven’t heard anything about the autopsy yet?”

“Maybe next week,” he replied. “I’ll tell you the minute I know for sure. Then we’ll both break it to your mother.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said.

He bent and touched his lips to her forehead. “I’m a kind man,” he murmured, laughing softly. “I don’t even kick cats when they deserve it.”

She smiled back, leaning closer. She loved being near him, feeling his breath on her face, his fingers in her hair.

Blake was amazed at how receptive she was to his advances, how hungrily she met them. He hadn’t analyzed his feelings for Violet. He wasn’t going to. Not yet. But she kindled fires in his blood that he hadn’t felt since Shannon Culbertson’s death.

Shannon. His eyes grew dark and quiet as he stared over Violet’s head and memories flooded in on him. He’d loved her. He’d given his heart completely, recklessly, without any thought for the future. Shannon had died, and his life had shattered overnight. He remembered that headlong passion with faint apprehension. It was dangerous to love. Very dangerous.

Violet didn’t know what he was thinking, but she felt a sudden remoteness from him. She noticed that he was staring into space, thinking. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about the direction their relationship was taking. Was he sorry that he’d kissed her?

He felt her intent stare. He turned his head and looked down into her eyes, searching them slowly. The look was more intimate than a kiss. His body began to swell from the intensity of it.

“Is something wrong?” she asked after a minute.

His fingers touched her chin, drawing it up. “I have cold feet.”

“I don’t understand.”

He drew in a long breath. “It’s too quick, Violet,” he murmured, looking at her. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“For feeding me trout?” she asked, wide-eyed.

He shook his head. “No. For…this.”

He bent and kissed her, very gently. He lifted his head. “I like kissing you.”

She smiled slowly. “I like kissing you, too.”

“To what end?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to get married,” he said bluntly.

She felt all at sea, confused and uncertain.

He stared down into her wide eyes. She looked miserable and he felt confused. “Forget it,” he murmured, dropping his stare to her soft eyes. “I’m just talking. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

“I know about her,” she blurted out.

He scowled. “Her?”

“Shannon Culbertson,” she said, averting her gaze to the budding rosebushes. “I’m sorry it happened like that. It must have been devastating for you.”

He couldn’t think of another single person he wouldn’t have cursed for mentioning her name. But it didn’t feel at all uncomfortable to discuss Shannon with Violet. She had a tender heart. He ached for comfort. He’d never had it.

“She was beautiful,” he replied. “Young and full of fun and promise. I loved her until she was an obsession. I didn’t think I could go on living when she died.”

“But you did,” she replied. “You’re stronger than you realize.”

“You have an odd effect on me,” he murmured.

“What sort?” she asked, studying him.

One shoulder lifted and fell. His eyes went back to the landscape as he rocked the swing lazily into motion. “I don’t talk about her. I haven’t in years.”

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, staring across his broad chest toward the distant highway. “You can’t bury the past,” she said absently. “It affects everything we do, everything we are.”

He frowned. “Did you lose someone?”

She laughed. “Me? When I was in high school, I weighed even more than I do now. My parents sent me to a private school because they thought I might not get picked on as much. But I did. There are always the beautiful people who feel privileged to comment on the less fortunate. I hated school.”

“I thought schools were cracking down on bullies.”

“If they crack down very hard, they tend to get sued,” she pointed out, with a speaking look in his direction.

He chuckled. “I don’t take frivolous lawsuits,” he reminded her.

“Plenty of other lawyers do. Then they get huge awards, which they keep the lion’s share of. Then insurance, and everything else goes sky high.”

He scowled. “Well, you have got a point.”

“I make up in intelligence for what I lack in looks,” she murmured.

He tilted her face up to his and searched her blue, blue eyes. “Violet,” he said softly, “there’s nothing wrong with the way you look. I had a bad morning and I took it out on you that day. I’ve been trying to find a way to apologize every since. You look like a woman should.”

She studied him with big, curious eyes. He was very handsome. She was fascinated by the way he was looking at her, as if he really did find her enchanting. She smiled slowly.

“Ahh,” he cautioned in a husky tone. “Looking at me like that will get you into trouble.”

“It will?” she asked hopefully.

The humor went right by him. His eyes had dropped to her full, soft mouth and he was feeling a surge of hunger. Some tiny voice was urging caution. He ignored it and pulled Violet closer. His hard mouth curved down against her soft one, teasing lightly until she relaxed and leaned against his chest. His long fingers slid into her thick, soft hair, and tugged her head farther back on his broad shoulder.

His fingers were at her nape, teasing, tracing, while his mouth slowly penetrated the tight line of her lips.

She stiffened, but he persisted. When she still wouldn’t give him what he wanted, his lean hand slid right over her full breast and contracted gently with the nipple trapped between his thumb and his hand. She gasped and shivered, giving him access to the dark inner softness of her mouth. She felt his tongue slide sensuously inside and a curious swelling sensation overtook her body.

His hand became insistent on her breast, searching for buttons. He made an opening and his fingers slid inside it, right onto the warm silkiness of her bare skin. She moaned huskily. Her arms reached up and enclosed his neck while she gave in to the unreality of being in his arms, being desired by him.

The kiss became passionate, demanding. She moaned again. Vaguely, she felt him pulling her up. He bent and lifted her, his mouth still enclosing her yielded, hungry lips. He carried her into the house, kicking the door shut behind him.

He started toward the bedroom, but his body was in agony. Too many years of abstinence had left him powerless with Violet’s mouth promising heaven. He made it to the living room and slid her onto the sofa, but there wasn’t really room for both of them on it. She was as hungry as he was, and their restless movements landed them on the carpet between the sofa and the coffee table.

He started to lift his head, but she pulled his mouth back over hers. The sensations were like waves of pleasure that rocked her in his hard arms, and she didn’t want them to stop. She didn’t want him to stop. She’d never felt such physical delight in all her life, and she wasn’t willing to give it up just yet.

Blake was feeling something similar. It had been a long time since he’d had such a willing, hungry partner. Even Shannon, although she loved him, had been receptive but not eager when he made love to her. Violet was different. She tasted of honey. He loved the feel of her mouth under his. He loved the feverish response of her body to his lightest touch. He loved the soft little noises she made, the tiny gasps that pulsed rhythmically out of her throat as his caresses became quickly more intimate.

She felt cool air on her breasts and opened her eyes just a breath. Her clothes were open all the way down the front, and her bra was unhooked. His eyes were a darkened, passionate blue as they caressed her bare breasts, feeding on their ample curves and the taut mauve rise of her nipples. He bent, his mouth opening as he eased down beside her again and took her into his mouth.

She arched completely off the floor, sobbing. “Yes,” she choked. “Yes!”

What little control he’d had left was gone at once. She was as hungry as he was. He didn’t think about afterward. He was too far gone to care about tomorrow. There was only the painful need that stretched his powerful body like rope over her rippling, soft body. Years of abstinence took control of his will.

His hands were deft and efficient. Within seconds, the barriers were all gone, and his mouth was moving hungrily over Violet’s soft belly, down to the inside of her thighs.

While he kissed her, he touched her, in ways and places she’d only read about. She hadn’t dreamed that the sensations would be so overwhelming. When the first ripples of ecstasy worked their way down her aching body, she was far beyond any sort of protest. She loved him. He wanted her. She was becoming a woman, truly a woman, for the first time. She wanted nothing more than to go on being kissed and touched and caressed to madness in his arms.

Somehow, it never occurred to her that the first time might be uncomfortable; or that he might not know it was her first time. Most women were experienced by the time they reached Violet’s age. But Violet was a late bloomer.

She felt the sudden penetration with a hungry delight that turned quite suddenly to discomfort, and then pain. She stiffened and gasped, her nails digging into his back.

Shivering with desire, he managed to lift his head and look into her wide, shocked eyes.

He felt the barrier. Why hadn’t he realized how difficult this might be? Because he was out of his mind with desire, that was why. And he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t…!

His knee pressed her legs wide apart, despite her silent protests, and his hand went quickly between them. He watched her face the whole time, watched fear and pain slowly give way to sharp pleasure.

Her nails bit into his back again, but not in pain this time. She was shuddering rhythmically with every sharp, deep downward movement of his hips. Her legs widened without any more coaxing. Her hips arched up to meet his. And still he held her eyes, watching her as he took her.

It was the most erotic experience of his entire life. Despite his experience, and he had some, it was new territory for him. He had inhibitions as surely as Violet had. Most of his encounters had been in dark rooms, at night. It was the first time he’d gone this far in broad daylight, and that was as erotic as the sight of Violet’s pink nudity under him on the carpet. He began to shiver with each rough movement as he found his way ever deeper into her soft body.

“I’ve never done this…in broad daylight. And I’ve never watched, Violet,” he bit off, his deep voice strained as he looked into her blue eyes.

She swallowed, hard. Her lips were parted on gasping breaths as the pleasure built and began to funnel up in her. She stared into his eyes, shivering, climbing some invisible ladder of pleasure toward what felt like an unbearable goal.

“I’ve…never,” she choked.

His jaw clenched as the pleasure began to bite into him. “I know,” he groaned harshly. His eyes closed on a wave of ecstasy that arched him above her, his hips pinning hers violently as he drove for fulfillment. “God…I can’t…stop!” he moaned.

Violet’s knees drew up on either side of him, enhancing the madness of delight. She arched again and again, her eyes wide, her mouth wide, as she looked into his eyes. They were almost black with desire.

“I feel you,” she whispered brokenly. “I feel you…in me!”

The anguish tripled at the erotic little whisper. His body ground hers into the carpet with violent, urgent motions that were more desperate than experienced. Her back was going to be raw, he thought in one last burst of sanity. Then he felt her convulse under him and cry out, and contract around him. He exploded, his eyes closed, his body helplessly impaling her in one last furious downward movement that lifted him to a level of climax he’d never known.

Violet felt him, tasted him, bonded with him in that space of seconds. The pleasure slowly fell to bearable levels and she wanted to weep, because it was so exquisite, and so very brief. She looked at him while he gave in to his own need, her eyes hungry on the length of his body, rippling muscle and thick hair on his chest, down to the flat stomach that was pressed so close to hers, to the long, powerful legs lying between her white thighs.

It should have been embarrassing, to see them like that. But she was only fascinated by the newness of intimacy.

She looked back up to see his face clenched, damp with sweat, as he slowly came back to himself. His eyes opened, dark, somber, sated.

She reached up and touched his mouth. She felt his body shivering in the aftermath, as hers was. He looked…shattered.

He collapsed on her, his forearms catching most of his formidable weight. His face pulsed at her throat, damp and sucking at breath. He shuddered. Her arms slid around him, cradling him. She felt him against every inch of her. She felt him, still inside her, still pulsing softly.

“Gosh,” she whispered, awed. Her legs curved around the back of his and her body lifted in soft entreaty.

“Optimist,” he murmured.

She laughed softly. She knew what he meant. Men spent themselves, and then it took a long time before they were capable again. She’d never indulged, but she’d heard other women talk.

“When I felt you stiffen, I could have shot myself,” he said at her ear. “I lost it. I knew you were a virgin, and I still couldn’t stop.”

Her hands smoothed his dark, wavy hair. She looked up at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the cats moving around the room, of a breeze fluttering the curtains, of a distant car passing on the highway on the horizon. She’d never been so close to another human being. She knew, finally, what it was to be a woman. She’d never dreamed that it would be Blake who taught her how to make love.

He drew in a long breath and rolled over onto his back, bringing her over him so that he could look up into her wide blue eyes.

His hand went between them and came up with a faint trace of blood.

She blushed.

He searched her eyes for a long time. “I didn’t have the presence of mind to think about protection, either.”

She didn’t know what to say. She was still halfway in and halfway out of a new reality.

His hands slid down her body to her wide, soft hips. “Lift up,” he murmured sensuously.

She did, curious, until she saw his eyes go hungrily to her breasts. His hands slid up to them, cupping them softly. He eased her onto her back and his mouth made a meal of them, kissing and tasting until she rippled all over with renewed desire.

He groaned as his body responded with renewed arousal and sudden urgency. “Are you sore?” he asked roughly.

“I…well, I don’t…ouch!” she gasped when he touched her where the tissues were torn from their first intimacy.

He ground his teeth together. “Sorry,” he whispered.

She could feel how hungry he was. “You can,” she whispered back. “It’s okay.”

He felt those words to the soles of his feet. She would have let him, despite the pain. It humbled him to know that.

He bent to her mouth and kissed her softly, with exquisite tenderness. She tugged at his hips, but he didn’t respond.

“No,” he said softly, and he smiled at her. “Not unless you can take as much pleasure from my body as I take from yours.”

She was fascinated by the reply.

He kissed her again, very softly, and then rolled away from her. He tugged his clothes back on and stood up to finish the fastenings. He looked down at her as she pulled her discarded dress against her breasts and stared at him confusedly.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he said quietly, aware of her sudden embarrassment. “Then we’ll talk.”

He walked away. She struggled quickly back into her things, noting the curious stares of the twin Siamese cats, who probably had never seen such confusing behavior from their resident human pet. It made her self-conscious.

By the time he came back with a tray, she was sitting on the couch feeling waves of embarrassment and shame.

He sat down beside her, fixed a cup of coffee the way he knew she liked it, and handed it to her. He saw the tears she was trying not to shed.

He reached over for a tissue from the box he kept by the lamp and wiped her eyes with a tenderness that said more than words.

“I haven’t had a woman for over two years,” he said bluntly. “I’m sorry. I lost control the minute I started kissing you.”

“It’s all right,” she choked, sipping coffee. “I didn’t exactly fight for my honor.” Tears started rolling again, staining her cheeks while she tried not to let him see how upset she was.

He took the coffee away from her, tugged her into his arms, and dragged her over into his lap. He held her while she cried, rocking her in the silence of the room. He felt satiated. His body was more relaxed than it had been in years. He felt young, vital, full of fire. He smiled at the difference a few torrid minutes had made in their tumultuous relationship.

“I’m sorry,” she choked. “I’m acting like a child.”

He kissed her wet eyelids. “First times are traumatic,” he murmured, drying her eyes again with the tissue.

“Was yours?” she asked, curious.

He laughed. “The first time I tried to have sex, I was seventeen. I was dating an older girl and we were in the back seat of my parents’ car at a country drive-in, one of the last few in Texas,” he recalled. “We were going at it hot and heavy when my zipper stuck.”

She stared at him, fascinated.

He laughed again. “I couldn’t get it to budge. I couldn’t get my jeans off with it zipped. And if I broke the zipper, I’d never have gotten past my mother to my room.” He shook his head. “She was experienced, and furious. She called me a clumsy fool and said she couldn’t imagine why girls went out with me. I took her home and never phoned her again. She didn’t know it was my first time, which was all that saved my pride.”

“I can’t imagine you being clumsy,” she said, fascinated by him.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “We all start somewhere,” he mused lazily. He traced around her soft mouth. “But you were my first virgin,” he whispered, holding her eyes.

Her lips parted. “I was?”

He nodded. He pushed back her disheveled hair. “I wasn’t sure I knew enough to spare you the pain.”

“You did, though,” she whispered, and averted her eyes, flushing.

He’d noticed. He felt ten feet tall. He knew that she’d climaxed, and not just the one time. He’d given her fulfillment, despite the rough beginning. It made him proud.

He cradled her close, wrapping her up in his arms with her face in his warm throat. He rocked her hungrily, his body still tingling with remembered pleasure. “I’d forgotten how it felt,” he whispered. “I suppose I’ve been half-alive, without knowing it.”

“So have I,” she replied drowsily. She curled closer into his powerful body.

He kissed her hair. “I’m sorry I made you sore,” he whispered. “It was unavoidable.”

“I know.”

He sat holding her for a long time, so contented that he didn’t realize how late it was getting until the automatic lights outside began to come on.

“Goodness,” she exclaimed when she noticed, sitting up on his lap. “I have to get home. Mama will be worried.” She stopped, aghast when she remembered her mother and her responsibilities. She remembered what she’d done with Kemp and she felt self-conscious and uncomfortable.

He knew that. He could see it in her expression. He didn’t know what to say to make things right.

“If anything happens, we’ll handle it,” he said softly. “Don’t beat yourself to death worrying. Okay?”

We’ll handle it. Did he mean he’d pay for a termination? She felt sick at her stomach. What in the world had she been thinking? She’d just had sex with her former boss and he wasn’t a marrying man. He wasn’t going to start hearing violins if she turned up pregnant. He was going to suggest a practical solution. But she wasn’t going to be able to agree with that. It just wasn’t possible.

“I can see the thoughts in your mind, Violet,” he said abruptly. “Let’s not face problems before they appear.”

She swallowed. “You’re right, of course.” She got to her feet unsteadily, and looked around as if she didn’t quite know where she was.

Kemp got up, too. “Do you want me to follow you home, just in case?” he asked.

She looked up. “In case of what?”

“You don’t drive at night much,” he said. He scowled. “There are drunks on the roads at night around here.”

“I won’t have any trouble,” she assured him.

“Except when it comes to living with what just happened,” he remarked.

She picked up her purse and sweater and turned to look at him. “What?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re a Puritan, Violet,” he said somberly. “You weren’t a virgin by accident.”

She colored. “I don’t date much…”

He waved away the rest of the reply. “You’re in love with me. I’ve always known it. There isn’t any other reason that would make you give yourself to a man without marriage.”

She glared at him. She hated being so transparent.

He moved closer, taking her gently by the shoulders. “You’ll work for me until we find out, one way or another, if there are going to be any consequences.”

“I should never have…!”

He kissed her mouth closed. “We’re both human.” He searched her eyes. “I love the way you were with me,” he added huskily. “It was the most exciting encounter of my life, Violet. I think I could live on it, if I had to. You were…extraordinary.”

“I didn’t know anything,” she blurted out.

“Instinct must go a long way, then.” He bent and kissed her again. “Try not to be ashamed of something so beautiful,” he added quietly. “We have a lot in common. I think we’ll find even more, as we go along.”

He was saying something incredible. She stared up at him, fascinated.

“I was happy being alone until you came along and shook up my life,” he murmured absently, watching her closely. “I can’t go back.”

“You can’t?”

He brought her soft palm to his mouth and kissed it hungrily. “In a few days, I think we might go and look at rings,” he said hesitantly, and his high cheekbones took on a ruddy color.

“Rings?”

His thumb rubbed over her ring finger. “Rings.”

She couldn’t manage a single word.

His blue eyes were somber. “Today was a beginning. Not the end.”

Her lips parted as she studied him, with love radiating from her face. He saw it, and felt humbled by it. He’d never been with a woman who was so violently in love with him. He felt cosseted, valued, possessed.

He drew her against him, aware that he became aroused the instant he felt her soft breasts against his chest. That hadn’t happened even with Shannon, when he was much younger. Violet lit fires in his body.

“Feel that?” he whispered as he bent to her mouth. “You arouse me so much that it hurts.”

She opened her mouth when she felt his lips on it. He built the kiss, lifting her free of the floor in his embrace. “I would still let you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. “You’re part of me now. I’m part of you. Kiss me…”

The kiss was long, hard, passionate. When he finally put her down, she was trembling.

“Go home,” he said firmly, leading her to the door with her purse in his hand.

“Throwing me out?” she teased.

He chuckled. “Saving you,” he murmured wickedly. “I need a cold shower.”

She touched his chest with her hand, dizzy and aching with new sensations, new joy. “I know you already know it,” she said softly. “But I love you.”

He traced her mouth with his fingertip. The words bit into him, made him feel guilty. He wanted her, but he didn’t feel that emotion for her. Not yet. He just smiled. “Drive carefully. Call me when you get home.”

He didn’t say it, but he had to feel something powerful for her, she was certain of it. She beamed. “Okay. Good night.”

“Good night, angel,” he said softly.

He watched her walk away with feelings of utter self-contempt. He’d taken advantage of what she felt for him, lost control and put her at risk. Now he had to stand by and wait to find out if she became pregnant, knowing that if she did, he’d be forced to marry her to save her reputation. It wasn’t the best night of his life, despite the lingering pleasure that reminded him of the afternoon.

Chapter Six

Violet managed to slip into her house without being seen by her mother. She was disheveled and her hair was a mess. Her mother wasn’t blind or stupid, she’d know that something torrid had been going on. To prevent any uncomfortable questions, Violet had called to her and then went straight to her room without letting herself be seen.

From there, she went to the kitchen, trying not to let her mind wander to the afternoon. Then she remembered that she’d promised to bring her mother some trout. She groaned inwardly. She heated her mother a bowl of soup and crackers for supper.

“I’m sorry about the trout,” she began. But she was beaming and she couldn’t help it.

Mrs. Hardy grinned. “Never mind that. Soup is fine. You’ve got feathers on your lips, my darling cat,” she chided. “So what’s going on with you and that dishy man?”

So much for deterring her mother’s suspicions. Violet blushed, grinning back. “The boss man is talking about rings.”

Her mother gasped. “Darling!”

Violet laughed. “Can you believe it? And we were fighting and giving each other fits just last week!”

“He didn’t really know you before, though,” the older woman pointed out as she sipped soup from a spoon. “You were too shy to be yourself with him.”

“I was,” Violet agreed, vaguely ashamed of what had happened, just the same.

“Did he mention a date?”

Violet shook her head. “We’re going to take it one day at a time,” she replied.

Mrs. Hardy only smiled. She knew that when couples got to the ring stage, weddings very often came quickly. “I’ve only ever wanted to live long enough to see you married and secure,” she said absently.

“You’d better be around longer than that,” Violet chided. “I can’t do without you!”

“Bosh,” the other woman murmured. “You’ve got your own life to live. I’m just about done with mine.”

“Don’t you talk like that,” her daughter chided. “You’re not nearly done. You have so much to look forward to!”

“Such as?” Mrs. Hardy asked, her eyes lackluster.

“Grandchildren!” she replied, and blushed again, because she could already be pregnant.

The older woman sat very still. “Grandchildren. Why…I hadn’t thought…” She glanced at Violet. “Does he want children, then?”

“Of course,” Violet said, smiling.

“He must have changed his mind,” Mrs. Hardy mused to herself.

Violet felt a sinking sensation. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s just something he mentioned that day he came over to talk to me, dear,” she said, sipping more soup. “He said that he’d never have a child.”

Violet felt sick. “Did he?”

Her mother hadn’t noticed Violet’s sudden lack of color and enthusiasm. She was thinking. “Men often think like that, until they have a child. But he was rather emphatic about it, just the same.”

“I wonder why,” Violet murmured aloud, uncomfortable.

Her mother glanced at her worriedly. “You mustn’t let on that I told you,” she said.

“Told me what, Mother?”

Mrs. Hardy grimaced. “Mr. Kemp is a very upright man these days, but he was young and irresponsible once. I’d heard something about the Culbertson girl, from a nurse I know. I asked him about it. He was shocked enough to tell me the truth about her. She was pregnant when she died. It was his child. He hadn’t known about it, although he would have married her sooner if he had. The coroner covered up her pregnancy, to spare her parents the embarrassment. But it affected him terribly. He lost not only his fiancée, but his child as well. He said that just the thought of a child gave him nightmares now, brought it all back to haunt him.”

Violet sat down, hard. It was worse than she’d imagined. Blake didn’t want children. She’d pushed him off balance and they’d had unprotected sex. He was making the best of things, but he’d never said that he loved her and he’d intimated that if she turned up pregnant, they’d have to make arrangements. Could that mean that he didn’t want a child, ever, after what had happened with his fiancée?

She felt sick to her soul. What was she going to do?

“Dear, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Hardy asked with a frown.

Violet forced a smile. “Nothing. I shouldn’t be jealous of a dead woman, should I?” she added, leading her mother right into the false conclusion that she was thinking about Shannon.

Mrs. Hardy relaxed. “Yes, dear. You shouldn’t.”

Violet changed the subject. But she didn’t sleep very much that night. She was sick with worry. How could she have been so blind and stupid? She was going to pay a high price for her one hour of passion. She’d thought it was worth anything at the time. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

She went to work Monday morning with uncertain feelings. She dreaded and anticipated seeing Blake again, both at once. Duke Wright smiled at her as he put her to work on new herd records, and he looked as if he might have known something about her day at Blake Kemp’s house. But he didn’t say anything.

Curt did. He grinned at her as he paused beside her desk. “I hear you were out at Kemp’s place over the weekend,” he murmured.

She gasped. “How…?”

“Jacobsville is a small town,” he said pleasantly. “Kemp’s driveway faces a major highway. Your car would stick out in a parking lot.”

She grimaced. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Stop looking so tragic,” he said gently. “You’re both free and single. Nobody’s going to make snide remarks to either of you about spending an afternoon together. Is it true about the cats?” he added quickly.

“What…about the cats?”

“That they’re so jealous of Kemp that visitors can’t get near him,” he replied.

“They weren’t so bad,” she confided. “Well, I did sort of get scratched by one of them. But it was just a little scratch.”

“The rumor is that the more Kemp likes someone, the worse the cats are,” he told her. “In which case, you’d better wear body armor if you go over there very much.”

“Siamese do tend to be temperamental, I guess,” she said, wondering how many people had seen her car at Kemp’s house.

“We had a dog once that hated Libby’s boyfriend, when she was about fourteen,” he recalled. “The dog sat and growled at him the whole time he was in the house. Then one day the boy brought him a beef bone. The next time he came over, the dog met him at the door and licked him half to death.”

She pursed her lips and smiled mischievously. “I wonder if Siamese like beef bones?”

He chuckled and went on out to work.

Violet had halfway hoped that she might hear from Blake during the day. After all, they’d been lovers. But he didn’t call. It was a disappointment, and her self-confidence took a nosedive. All her hopes began to drown in doubt. She went through her normal routine, answering the phone and taking messages, and typing letters for Duke Wright after he dictated them. It was a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary. She could have cried.

Once, she almost picked up the phone and called his office. But that would never do. She couldn’t look as if she were chasing him. Perhaps he just needed breathing space, in order to get used to the changed relationship between them. Surely, it was just that.

By the end of the day, she was feeling dismal. She wondered if perhaps Blake had phoned while she was briefly out of the office, because she had to run to town for Duke Wright and pick up a special delivery letter he was expecting, at the post office.

She had the opportunity to ask him as she gathered her purse and sweater to go home. He walked in with a sealed letter that needed a stamp.

“Could you drop that by the post office for me on your way home, Violet?” he asked.

“Certainly.” She put on the stamp and gave him a shy glance. “Uh, there weren’t any, uh, messages for me while I was gone earlier…?” she faltered.

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “From your ex-boss, you mean?”

She flushed. “Well…”

“There’s a hard case, if ever there was one,” he said. “You’re taking a chance, Violet. A big one.”

“Sir?”

“We all know you were out at his house,” he replied easily. “News travels like wildfire around here. We’ve heard that those cats don’t like company at all.”

“They’re sort of antagonistic,” she confessed, without mentioning her scratches.

“Kemp took another lawyer home for supper one day and the man had to go to the emergency room. He was allergic to cat scratches.”

She cleared her throat. “They are sort of possessive,” she replied. “But I’m no threat. We’re just friends,” Violet said firmly. “He wanted to introduce me to his cats.”

“That explains everything,” Duke mused, grinning. “It’s the cats who are interested in you, then?”

Curt Collins poked his head in the door, shamelessly eavesdropping. “And of course, Kemp loves his cats, so he brings home strangers that he thinks they’ll like,” he added.

“You two!” Violet exclaimed, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.”

They said their goodbyes and watched her go out the door.

She knew what they meant about the cats.

Mr. Kemp was a notorious loner. He never took women to his house. If he was entertaining Violet on the weekend, something was going on. She knew it was all over town if even Duke Wright knew about her visit. She wondered if the gossip had gotten back to Blake and that’s why he hadn’t phoned her. Of course, he could be feeling regret at his loss of control as well. She was feeling something similar. Her only excuse was that she loved him. Sadly, she knew it wasn’t the same with him. Desire wasn’t love.

Violet spent a sleepless night worrying about her lapse of judgment at Kemp’s house, and his avoidance of her. She couldn’t forget what her mother had said, about his attitude toward children. She hoped with all her heart that there wouldn’t be consequences. Surely, she couldn’t get pregnant from one brief interlude!

She went to work the next morning and found Duke Wright making coffee. He glanced up when she came in the door, and smiled at her.

“I’ve got to be out of town today. Think you can hold the office together until I get back?”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” she promised.

“If Kemp shows up, you can have a long lunch hour,” he added with a grin. “But don’t let him know I said that.”

“He’s not a bad man.”

“You don’t have my perspective on him,” Duke replied quietly.

She was aware of that. Duke’s divorce had been a messy one, and he blamed Kemp for his wife’s unreasonable demands. She didn’t say a word.

He shrugged. “Sorry. I have bad memories. I’ll see you tomorrow, Violet.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Have a safe trip.”

“I hope to.”

She watched him walk out with a sense of foreboding. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on.

And it was. Kemp walked into his office and motioned Libby Collins back down the hall with him.

He told her the results of the state crime lab’s autopsy on her father, which was negative.

She was relieved, and showed it.

“But the opposite was true of Violet’s father,” he said quietly. “Don’t tell her, and don’t tell Curt until I’ve had time to get out to Wright’s ranch. I’m going to tell Violet in person and then take her home and help her break the news to her mother. It’s going to be an ordeal for them. If we can catch Janet Collins, we’ll charge her with first degree murder. Violet and her mother will both have to testify, and it will resurrect some terrible memories for old Mrs. Hardy. I’m not sure her heart will take it.”

“What can be done?”

He shrugged. “The only thing I know is to try and reach a plea agreement, if I can talk the D.A. into it. If Janet can expect something less than life in prison, she might confess. I’ll have to see. Right now, my priority is to make sure Violet doesn’t hear it on the six o’clock news. There were reporters sniffing around this afternoon.”

“Poor Violet,” Libby said sadly. “Please, tell her if she needs me, I’ll be there.”

“I will. But I’m sure she knows it already. Hold down the fort for me.”

“You bet.”

All the way to Duke Wright’s place, Kemp worried about Violet’s reaction. He was still aching from their brief interlude, and he was uneasy about facing Violet again. She was a shy, introverted woman who’d had no real experience with men. He’d taken advantage of that. She might hate him for it. Just the same, he had to do what he could for her and her mother. It wasn’t going to be easy for either of them to face the fact that Mr. Hardy had been murdered.

Violet was just finishing the last of the new cattle herd files when she heard footsteps coming into her office.

She looked up, and her heart jumped wildly as she saw Blake Kemp for the first time since their passionate afternoon. She colored furiously as he came into the room and paused just in front of her desk. He looked very elegant in a pale gray vested suit, not a hair out of place. His blue eyes were quiet and sympathetic as they met hers.

“Is something wrong?” she asked at once, uneasy because of the way he looked.

“Yes, Violet,” he replied. “We have to speak to your mother. Will Wright let you leave early?”

“He’s not here today,” she faltered. She stood up. “What’s happened?”

“We just got the results back on your father’s autopsy. He was poisoned, Violet. It wasn’t a natural death. It was murder.”

Murder. Murder. She felt the blood draining out of her face. Janet Collins had killed her father.

“That woman,” she bit off. “That damned, greedy woman killed my father!”

He moved around the desk quickly and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tight. “It’s all right,” he murmured softly at her ear, contracting his arms when she began to shiver. “We’ll make her pay for it. I swear we will.”

She’d felt shock and then anger. Now she felt grief well up in her like water behind a dam. She’d loved her father, despite his faults. How in the world was her mother going to react to the news?

“It will kill Mama,” she choked, sliding her arms around Blake’s waist.

“No, it won’t,” he assured her. “She’s stronger than she looks. But I think you and I should both break the news to her.”

“Yes. Thank you,” she added belatedly.

He drew in a long breath. Odd, how right she felt in his arms. He’d ached for her for the past few days. This was like coming home.

She loved the comfort of his embrace. Except for her mother, she’d had little real affection in her life. It was wonderful to melt into his muscular body and let him absorb all her worries, all her fears. He made her feel secure, protected.

His hand smoothed over her hair, enjoying its softness.

Footsteps interrupted them. Curt came into the room, stopped dead, and started to go back out again, faintly embarrassed.

Blake saw him and released Violet. “She’s had some bad news,” he told the other man. “It will be all over town soon enough, so you might as well know now. Her father was poisoned.”

“By my stepmother?” Curt asked miserably.

Blake nodded. “Very probably.”

Curt grimaced. “Violet, I’m so sorry.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. They felt swollen and hot. “It’s not your fault, Curt,” she said sadly. “You and Libby have suffered because of her, too. We’re all victims.”

“And we can’t find her,” Curt muttered angrily.

“We will,” Blake said firmly. “I swear we will.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Curt asked.

Violet shook her head. “But thanks anyway. We’re going to tell Mama. I hope it isn’t going to be too much for her.”

Blake smiled faintly as Violet went to gather up her things. “I think you’ll find that your mother is going to want vengeance more than sympathy when she knows the truth.”

Violet smiled. “I hope so,” she replied. “I really hope that’s how she’s going to feel.”

Blake turned to Curt. “I’m going to follow Violet home. If Wright calls, can you tell him what’s going on?”

“He left his foreman in charge,” Curt replied. “I’ll make sure he knows. There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Violet, if you need anything, all you have to do is tell us. I know Libby would tell you the same thing.”

“Thanks, Curt,” she replied, managing a smile as she joined Blake. “I’m ready when you are,” she told him.

“Let’s go.” Blake stood aside to let her go out the door first.

Mrs. Hardy looked up expectantly, and with faint surprise, when she saw Blake come in the door with her daughter. Both of them wore somber expressions.

She was propped up on the sofa with pillows. She gave them a wise look. “You have the results of the autopsy,” she guessed. “That floozie poisoned my husband, didn’t she?” she added, eyes flashing. “I want her drawn and quartered!”

Blake smiled at Violet. “Didn’t I tell you?” he mused.

Violet nodded. “Yes, you did.” She put down her things and went to sit beside her mother on the sofa and pull her close. “We’re going to find her and send her away for years and years,” she promised her mother. “It’s just a matter of time and evidence.”

“Evidence being the key word,” Blake agreed. “Fortunately, the criminalists who processed the scene did a thorough job. They couldn’t rule out homicide, so they did a good job of collecting trace evidence. There’s more than enough for a DNA profile. If Janet was in that room, we’ll be able to prove it. There’s also an eyewitness who saw her come out of the room shortly before your husband was discovered,” he added.

“Yes, but we don’t know where she is,” Violet murmured.

“Oh, that’s just a minor detail,” Blake said carelessly. “I have a private detective tracking her. It’s just a matter of time.”

“You didn’t say anything about that,” Violet remarked.

“Finding Janet is essential to Libby and Curt. They’re fighting to keep their ranch, and it’s not going well,” he said grimly. “Janet has done everything in her power to take it away from them. She’s absconded with all the money and tied up their finances so that they can hardly pay bills. They need her found, and quickly. So do both of you,” he added. “The longer this drags on, the worse it’s going to get.”

“How can a human being be so cold?” Mrs. Hardy wondered out loud, her delicate features drawn as she spoke. “Money isn’t that important.”

“To some people it is,” Blake replied. “I’ve seen men go to prison for life because they stole less than twenty dollars. A thief doesn’t know how much money his victim is carrying, as a rule. Sometimes the victim resists, and dies, and the thief ends up with pocket change and a life sentence. Greed is its own punishment.”

“I hope Janet Collins gets hers,” Violet said quietly, hugging her mother. She glanced at Blake. “I suppose it will be in all the papers?”

“Undoubtedly,” he agreed. He moved into the living room and dropped down into a comfortable armchair. “Personal tragedies have become popular entertainment. We’ve reached an all-time low in journalistic ethics.”

“Where do you think Janet Collins went?” Mrs. Hardy asked abruptly.

Blake crossed his long legs and leaned back in the chair. “At a guess, somewhere close by. She won’t want to let go of the ranch. Libby and Curt have had some threats already, probably at her instigation.”

“I’m sorry they’re having such trouble,” Violet said. “Libby’s the best friend I have.”

“I won’t give up until Janet is found,” Blake assured her. “I’ve got one of the best private investigators in Texas on the job.”

Mrs. Hardy was dabbing at her eyes. Anger had given way to grief. “I wondered about the coroner’s report, saying that he had a heart attack,” she murmured aloud. “He’d had all sorts of tests, and there was no trace of heart trouble.”

“From what the medical examiner told me, the poison paralyzes the heart. Essentially, it stops it dead. Since no one suspected foul play, they didn’t bother with an autopsy. But I credit those investigators in San Antonio with doing a great job of evidence gathering. When we finally catch Janet, we’ll have enough to hang her.”

Violet hugged her mother. “It will be all right,” she said, although she didn’t really feel it.

“The newspapers will have a field day, won’t they?” Mrs. Hardy asked suddenly, her face contorted.

“We’ll get through it,” Violet assured her. “We’re tough, aren’t we?”

Mrs. Hardy hesitated, then she smiled. “Yes, dear. We’re tough.”

“We’ll find a way around the publicity,” Blake told them. “First things first. We have to find Janet.”

“Thank you for coming with Violet to give me the news, Blake,” Mrs. Hardy told him gently. “It made it easier.”

“I thought it might,” he said gently. “I’m sorry it turned out this way,” he added.

“So are we,” Violet replied. “But we don’t get to choose our obstacles, do we?”

“How true,” Mrs. Hardy murmured. She looked toward Blake. “Would you like to come to dinner?”

Violet flushed. She knew her mother was trying to play matchmaker, but she wished she hadn’t. She was uneasy around Blake. She didn’t know what he expected of her. She didn’t know how she should behave.

Blake saw her indecision and averted his gaze to Mrs. Hardy. “Thanks,” he said, “but I’ve got a lot of work to get through tonight for a client.” The client was Libby Collins, but he wasn’t going to discuss that with the women.

“Another time,” Mrs. Hardy suggested.

“Another time,” he agreed pleasantly. “I’d better get on the road. If you need me, call,” he told Violet firmly.

“Of course, we will,” she said without looking directly at him, and with a forced smile.

“My interim secretary is getting married,” he remarked. “You might consider coming back to work. Libby and Mabel miss you.”

Violet was surprised, because he hadn’t been in touch with her since their dinner. She didn’t even know that he’d hired an interim secretary. He sounded as if he wanted Violet to come back. But he didn’t look desperate.

On the other hand, she missed seeing him every day. It was a wrench to work for Duke Wright. It guaranteed that she wouldn’t see Blake on a regular basis at all. Today had been a rare event.

“Think about it, at least,” Blake added quietly.

“Yes,” she replied. “I certainly will.”

He studied her for a few seconds too long, his eyes narrow and intent. She might mistake his invitation for something romantic, but that wasn’t the case at all. He felt guilty for what he’d let happen at his house. Violet could be pregnant. He didn’t dare keep his distance until he knew for sure. The woman hadn’t a clue about relationships, and she’d be in a hell of a fix if she really had become pregnant.

He had to keep her close so that he’d know, whatever her condition turned out to be. If there was going to be a child…

He stopped the thought dead. He wouldn’t think about that consequence. He had to look on the bright side. He wasn’t ready for marriage and a family. He might never be. Certainly, Violet was hardly the sort of woman he envisioned marrying. She was sweet and kind, but she wasn’t assertive. There were divisions between them that she didn’t understand. He couldn’t hurt her by pointing them out.

He had to bide his time until he knew for sure if there was going to be a child. That wasn’t her fault, either. He’d seduced her, out of loneliness and aching hunger. He still felt the need for her. It was why he’d avoided her for the past couple of days. He’d hoped to get it under control.

But it wasn’t. He looked at her and he wanted her. His body was already as taut as drawn rope, just from looking at her. He knew instinctively that if he touched her, he wasn’t going to be able to pull away. The pleasure she’d given him was exquisite. He wanted it again. And he didn’t dare have it.

“Violet, why don’t you walk Blake out?” Mrs. Hardy suggested when there was a brief silence.

“I can find my way out,” Blake said without making a big thing of Violet’s hesitation. He even smiled. “Think about the job,” he suggested. “We make a good team…you and me and Libby and Mabel,” he added just when she thought he was talking about the two of them.

She nodded. “I will think about it,” she promised.

“I’ll be in touch,” he replied. He didn’t say goodbye. He simply left.

“See, dear, he misses you!” Mrs. Hardy exclaimed when they heard his car start up outside. “He wants you back! You’ll do it, won’t you?”

“I have to change clothes and get supper started,” she interrupted to halt her mother’s speculation. “What would you like? How about pancakes?”

“Pancakes? For supper?” the older woman exclaimed.

“Why not? We love pancakes!”

Mrs. Hardy smiled. “Then pancakes it is. And coffee.”

Coffee reminded Violet of Blake and made her sad. She’d lost her job over coffee. But she didn’t let it show. “Decaf for you,” she teased, and went to change her clothes.

Chapter Seven

Blake spent the weekend working, trying to keep his mind off Violet. Monday morning, his private investigator called with some good news for Libby and Curt Collins. Their father’s priceless coin collection had been located at a dealer’s shop in San Antonio. There were bankbooks. There was also a copy of a new will, about which Blake had some suspicions. Blake phoned the dealer and arranged to drive up the following morning early and collect the coins and the documents. He told the dealer that he’d have Libby phone him as soon as she came to work—she could vouch for the fact that Blake was her attorney and authorized to handle her inheritance.

He didn’t know if Janet Collins was aware of the coin collection’s whereabouts and he considered that he might need backup.

He phoned the chief of police’s office and talked to Cash Grier, who agreed to drive up with him. Grier would intimidate most people with evil intentions, Blake thought humorously, even without a firearm.

He told Libby about the trip and also asked her to go by Violet’s house that afternoon with a pizza and cheer the women up. He also suggested that it wouldn’t hurt for Libby to mention how badly they missed her in the office, and how short-handed they were since the interim secretary, Jessie, had given notice and quit. Libby laughingly agreed.

Libby was surprised at Violet’s new look and her nervousness when she stopped by Violet’s house after work. She’d known Violet for a long time. She’d never known her to be anything except calm and collected.

“Mr. Kemp asked me to tell you how much we’re missing you,” Libby said, tongue-in-cheek.

Violet laughed softly. “Are you really, or are you just short-handed because Jessie quit without finishing out her notice?”

Libby’s eyes widened. “How in the world did you know that?”

Violet chuckled. “Mrs. Landers who works at the newspaper office,” she replied. “She’s the best gossip we have, and she thought I’d like to know that poor Mr. Blake was short a secretary. She saw the baby shower announcement that Jessie brought in and Jessie mentioned that she was leaving the job early because Mr. Kemp was hopeful that his old secretary might come back if she knew how hard-pressed he was for help.”

“Well!” Libby exclaimed on a laugh, showing her the box of hot pizza. “It’s all true, of course. I brought you and Mrs. Hardy a pizza.”

“You can have some, too, Libby, since you were nice enough to bring it,” Violet said, hugging the other woman. “It was sweet of you. Mama and I have had a bad day.”

“Mr. Kemp told me about it,” Libby replied. “I’m so sorry.”

Violet shrugged. “We all have hard times. We’ll get through ours. It’s just that it’s brought back so many terrible memories.”

“All my stepmother’s fault,” Libby said coldly. “Curt and I would love to get our hands on her!”

“Take a number and get in line,” Violet mused with morbid humor.

“I see your point.”

“Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll find some plates. Mama, Libby’s here, and she brought a pizza,” she called to her mother in the living room.

“Hello, Libby,” Mrs. Hardy called back. “That was sweet of you!”

“That’s just what I said, Mama,” Violet teased.

She led Libby into the kitchen.

“One way or another, my stepmother has made some terrible problems for all of us,” Libby said somberly. “But she messed up.”

“How?”

“My dad must have suspected something, because he made a new will and left it with a rare coin dealer in San Antonio,” Libby replied. “The coin collection he had is there, too. Mr. Kemp says Curt and I will be able to pay off our mortgage and get our livestock back.”

“Libby, that’s wonderful!” Violet exclaimed.

“Yes. Wonderful. But Julie Merrill has been making my life hell lately. She’s got her claws into Jordan and she won’t let go. He thinks I’m just jealous and trying to break them up. But it’s more than that,” she said grimly. “She’s dangerous. She’s been spreading all sorts of rumors about Calhoun Ballenger. He got Mr. Kemp to file suit against her for slander.”

“Good for Calhoun!”

Libby helped put pizza on plates. “I thought Jordan cared about me,” she said miserably. “But the minute Julie turned on the charm, he dropped me flat. He even let her insult me without saying a single word in my defense.”

“I’m really sorry,” Violet told her. “I thought Jordan was smart enough to see through her.”

“She’s pretty and smart and rich,” Libby murmured.

“And what are you, hideous?” Violet chided. “Your people were founding families of Jacobsville, and you’re a paralegal. You’re pretty, too. You’re worth two of Julie Merrill.”

Libby looked less stressed. She smiled. “Thanks, Violet. I really have missed you,” she added. “I don’t have anybody else that I can talk to, except my brother, and I couldn’t tell him how I really feel about Jordan.”

“Julie will fall into that deep hole she’s digging one day,” Violet told the other woman. “With any luck, Janet will fall into one just as deep!” She hesitated, remembering what Libby had said. “Mr. Kemp isn’t going to go up there alone to get those things, is he? I mean, Janet might have an accomplice…”

“Cash Grier is going with him,” Libby interrupted.

Violet laughed. “I’ll stop worrying right now. Nobody is going to mess with our chief of police.”

“That’s gospel,” Libby agreed. “Although you might remember that Mr. Kemp was an officer in the reserves until just recently. He’s no shrinking daisy.”

“I know,” Violet replied, smiling. “Remember those two men he threw out of our office?”

“I’m trying to forget!”

They both laughed.

The pizza was delicious. Violet walked out with Libby when she was ready to leave.

“Are you going to come back?” Libby asked the other woman seriously.

“Yes,” Violet said. “I dread having to tell Mr. Wright, though,” she added. “He was kind to me.”

“Duke’s nice. He won’t mind. He may not like Mr. Kemp, but he likes you,” she added with a smile. “I’ll bet he won’t even ask you to work a two week notice.”

“That would be nice.” She wrapped her arms around herself. The night was cool. “Has Mr. Kemp really missed me?”

Libby smiled. “He really has. He’s set new records for hostility and impatience. I think Jessie quit because she reached the end of her rope. She couldn’t please the boss no matter what she did. It seemed to Mabel and me that Mr. Kemp was trying to make her leave.”

Violet smiled delightedly. “I’ve missed him, too,” she confessed.

Libby hugged her. “We all know how you feel about him. I think you’ve got a good chance with him, Violet,” she said gently. “I wouldn’t encourage you to come back if I didn’t. I know too much about unrequited love.”

“You and Jordan are going to work out one day, too,” Violet assured her friend. “I’m sure of it.”

“Chance would be a fine thing,” Libby sighed. “Well, I’d better get home. Curt’s having a night out with the boys so I don’t have to worry about his supper, thank goodness.”

“Your brother’s a nice man.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Libby grinned. “I wouldn’t have minded you for a sister-in-law, you know. But you can’t get past love. I know. I’ve tried.”

“It will work out, Libby,” Violet told her.

“Somehow,” Libby agreed.

“Thanks for the pizza and the company.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“I’ll call Mr. Wright tonight,” Violet added, full of excitement.

“We’ll look forward to having you back whenever you can come,” Libby called on her way to the car.

Violet did phone Duke Wright, and he did waive her two weeks’ notice. He was sorry to lose her, he added, but a blind man could see how she felt about Kemp. Not that Kemp deserved her, he added wryly. Violet thanked him and hung up. She was going to be sitting at her desk when Mr. Kemp came in the next morning. She could hardly wait to see the look on his face!

Kemp and Cash Grier were on their way back from San Antonio after a stop at the coin dealer’s shop, a local attorney’s office, and a quick lunch. Kemp had salvaged more than enough of the late Riddle Collins’s assets to save Libby and Curt Collins from bankruptcy. They’d be able to pay off their outstanding loan and have plenty left over to put in the bank. The coin collection their father had left them was worth a fortune by itself. But in addition to it, Kemp had found two savings accounts and a new will that their late father had placed with the coin dealer in San Antonio. Apparently, he hadn’t trusted his wife, Janet, one bit, and had planned for her legal shenanigans after his death. He’d assured that his children wouldn’t be left penniless.

“Isn’t greed amazing?” Kemp murmured aloud, having told Grier the bare bones of the shameful way Janet had treated her stepchildren.

“It is,” Grier said. “I’ve never understood it. I like having enough to provide a roof over my head and the occasional night at the theater, but there are plenty of things I wouldn’t consider doing even to make myself rich.”

“Same here.” Kemp glanced at the older man curiously.

“Something bothering you?” Grier asked.

“I’m surprised at the way you’ve fit in here,” he replied with a faint smile. “You do know the whole town’s talking about your defense of your two patrol officers—the ones the mayor is trying to fire.”

“I like controversy if it’s in a good cause,” Grier said. He grinned. “I’m not letting them fire good officers for doing their jobs.”

“You’ve got some drug traffickers on the run as well,” Kemp mused. “You’re shaking up our little community. I like the changes. So do a lot of other people.”

“I’m glad, but I didn’t take the job to win a popularity contest.”

“Why did you?” Kemp asked evenly.

Grier sighed. “I’m tired of living on the run,” he confessed, gazing out the window while Kemp drove. “I’m feeling my age. I think I might put down roots here.”

“With Tippy?” Kemp fished.

Grier didn’t fly at him, as he’d expected. The older man frowned slightly. “She’s not what she seems,” he replied quietly. “I’ve misjudged her badly. I don’t know that she’d be willing to take me on, once she’s back on her feet and able to work again. In any case, I can’t let her far out of my sight right now. Not until that third kidnapper is in custody,” he added coldly. “If he turns up in Jacobsville and makes a try for her, he’d better carry life insurance.”

“It would take a stupid criminal to do that.”

“I’ve locked up a lot of guys who aren’t rocket scientists,” Grier said drolly, with a speaking glance at Kemp.

Kemp chuckled. “I’ve defended a fair number who weren’t, too,” he had to agree. “Which reminds me, if you want me to defend your patrol officers at the hearing, I’ll do it pro bono.”

“Thanks,” Grier told him. “But I’ve got a big surprise for the city council when they meet for that hearing.”

“I forgot. You’re related to the Hart boys, aren’t you?”

Grier grinned. “They’re my cousins.”

“And Simon Hart is our state attorney general,” he added, laughing. “Then I don’t need to offer my services. I won’t try to guess who you’re bringing with you.”

“You won’t need to guess,” Grier said. He stretched lazily. “I need a few days off. Once the election is over and the disciplinary hearing is decided, I’m going to take some time off. Tippy’s little brother is coming down here soon. He likes to fish. Maybe he and I can stake out a riverbank for a few hours and take some fresh fish home to Tippy for dinner.”

“Can she cook?” Kemp asked, surprised.

“Indeed she can,” he replied. “You’d be amazed at how domestic she is.” His eyes were soft. “She looks right at home in a kitchen. I could get used to seeing her across a table for the rest of my life.”

Kemp felt uneasy. Grier, an older and lonelier man than himself, was apparently thinking solemnly about a stable and shared future with a woman. Kemp thought of marriage and it made him uncomfortable.

“I’m not in the market for a wife,” Kemp said aloud. “I like my own space, my own company.”

Grier gave him a grin. “I used to be that way, too. There’s always the one woman who can change your mind.”

Kemp shrugged. “Not for me. I’ve been that route once. I never want to go over the same ground again.”

“Nothing wrong with being a loner,” Grier said. “Until recent days, I felt that way, too.”

“Tippy’s a beauty.”

“She’s got a good brain, and she’s a quick hand in an emergency,” Grier told him. “It’s not about looks.”

“Sorry,” Kemp said belatedly. “I was thinking out loud.”

“I hear your new secretary quit,” Grier mused.

“She couldn’t spell,” Kemp muttered. “It’s no loss.”

“What are you going to do, have Libby and Mabel double up on work again?”

“Violet might come back.”

Grier pursed his lips. “I thought she was keen on having you for a barbecue as the entrée.”

Kemp shrugged. “We’re speaking again.” He tried not to let it show that they were doing a lot more than that.

“If you say so.”

“I can get another secretary whenever I need one,” Kemp added doggedly.

“Does the employment agency know this?”

Kemp gave him a glare. “Just because they hung up on me doesn’t mean they don’t want my business.”

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway, if Violet comes back, all my problems will be solved,” he said. “And now that I’ve got Riddle Collins’s secret stash in that suitcase, Libby and Curt Collins will be out of debt and back in their own home again.”

“That won’t suit Julie Merrill,” Grier murmured coolly. “She’s hot after Jordan Powell’s money. Poor Libby.”

“Poor Julie, if you can get her where we all want her,” Kemp said.

“I’m working on that,” Grier assured him. “One way or another, I’m going to put the last of the drug cartel out of business in Jacobsville.”

“With my blessing,” Kemp replied, smiling.

Kemp came into his office early the next morning with Riddle’s stash and showed it to Libby, who’d come in early for the occasion. She was ecstatic as they went over the proof of her father’s love for her and Curt.

A few minutes later, Kemp started out for the courthouse to file the revised will Riddle had left. When he walked into the outer office, the first thing he saw was Violet, sitting at her desk.

His expression was enough to feed Violet’s hungry heart. She smiled, flushed and beamed up at him.

“You said I could come back,” she reminded him brightly.

“Yes, I did,” he replied, smiling. “Are you staying?”

She nodded.

“How about making a fresh pot of coffee?” he asked.

“Regular?”

“Half and half,” he replied, averting his eyes. “Too much caffeine isn’t good for me.”

He went out the door, leaving Violet with her jaw dropping.

“I told you he missed you!” Libby whispered mischievously as she followed the boss onto the sidewalk.

As the day went on, Kemp found himself looking for excuses to go to the front of his office. He went through two pots of coffee, because that was the best excuse he had. Violet was wearing a sassy blue dress that emphasized her nice, rounded figure. It was fairly low cut in front, and with her frosted dark hair and her improved use of makeup, she was enough to turn any man’s head.

Libby and Mabel noticed his sudden interest in the coffeepot with subdued humor. They didn’t want to embarrass Violet, who flushed every time the boss came close.

It was almost inevitable that Violet stayed just a few minutes longer than Mabel and Libby at the end of the day.

She tidied up her desk and slowly gathered her purse and sweater. Blake came out to the front office and stood, openly staring at her, with his hands in his pockets and an odd, intent look in the blue eyes behind his trendy spectacles.

“Are you in a rush to get home? Can you phone your mother and tell her you’ll be a few minutes late?” he added.

“Of…of course,” she stammered. The way he was looking at her made her tingle from head to toe. She fumbled the phone to her ear and dialed, her eyes eating her handsome boss all the while.

She told her mother she’d be a few minutes late, trying not to react obviously to her parent’s amusement.

Blake held out his hand. Violet dropped her purse and sweater on her chair and went to him, letting him lead her back to his office.

He closed the door and pulled her hungrily into his arms. She sighed with pure delight as his hard mouth found her lips and he lifted her into an even more intimate embrace.

“I’ve missed you,” he ground out against her responsive lips.

“I’ve missed you…too,” she whispered back.

“Come home with me,” he suggested huskily.

She knew what he was really suggesting, and it wasn’t supper. She wanted to go with him. She wanted to be with him. But she was hesitant.

He felt her hesitation. He let her slide down his hard body and he stared into her eyes hungrily. “Well?”

She swallowed. Her gaze was on his broad chest, because she couldn’t look him in the eye and refuse him.

“What are you offering me, Blake?” she asked quietly.

He scowled. “Are we bargaining for sex?”

She stared up at him, dumbfounded. “Is that all you want from me?”

He was confused. Usually logical and cool in his thinking, now he was like a young man on the brink of his first affair.

“I don’t want to get married, Violet,” he said gently. “You know that.”

She swallowed hard. “Yes. You’ve already said that. But I don’t want to be your mistress.”

His jaw tensed. “I don’t recall asking you to be.”

“What would you call it, then?” Violet asked sadly. “You want to sleep with me, with no ties, isn’t that the truth?”

He stuck his hands in his slacks pockets and let out a long sigh.

“My mother is old-fashioned,” she continued. “She raised me to think of sex as something that goes hand in hand with love and marriage. It would break her heart to have me settle for a purely physical liaison with any man, especially you.” She looked up at him miserably. “Jacobsville is a small town, Blake. Everybody would know.”

“I’m not a slave to public opinion,” he said harshly, feeling himself lose ground.

“Yes, but I am,” she replied. She stepped back, feeling a sudden coldness in his manner. It wasn’t what she’d expected when she came in here with him. She’d hoped that he might come to love her. They’d been so close at his house. Now they were like strangers.

He was furious. He was confused. This woman had caused him more inner turmoil than he’d known since the death of his fiancée, years before. He loved his freedom. But he hated the thought of losing Violet.

“Violet,” he began slowly, “I was engaged once. I loved her more than life. After I lost her, I didn’t want to go on living.” He frowned. “I…can’t go through that again.”

She looked up into his turbulent eyes. “Why would you have to? You don’t love me,” she said miserably. “You only want me.”

She turned and went to the door.

Before she could open it, his hand covered hers on the doorknob. “Wait.”

“I should never have returned here to work,” she said. “I’ll go back to Mr. Wright. You can get another temporary secretary to fill in until you replace me.”

“No!”

Tears blurred her blue eyes. She’d never been so miserable in her life. “Just let me go, please!”

He moved his hand. Seconds later, she was out the front door and gone. He stood alone in his office, feeling empty and cold. She wanted something he couldn’t give her. Why couldn’t women be like men, he wondered angrily, and just enjoy the present without asking for solemn vows of forever?

He went home in a snit and made supper for himself and the cats. They gave him odd looks, as if they sensed his inner turmoil.

He glared at them. “Don’t you start,” he muttered. Mee rubbed against his legs. Yow sat watching him with blue accusing eyes. “Great,” he muttered. “Now I’m talking to cats!”

He finished his meager supper and tried to get interested in a television program, but his body ached with thoughts of Violet in his arms. He wasn’t giving in, though. If she thought she’d get him in front of a minister by holding out physically, she was dead wrong.

He couldn’t forget their one time of intimacy, the beauty and joy of possessing her. It had been a perfect physical interlude.

Then he remembered something else he’d tried to forget. They’d had unprotected sex. What if Violet got pregnant?

He sat up straight, his eyes wide and stunned at just the thought. What would they do? He knew for a fact that Violet would never be able to go to a clinic. She’d insist on having the child. He had a horror of children. He’d never gotten over the fact that Shannon had been carrying his child when she died. It had warped his attitude toward pregnancy. He thought of children and he remembered how he felt when he knew his child had died with the woman he loved. It brought back nightmares of pain. Violet wouldn’t understand that. She wanted happily ever after. All he wanted was relief from the nagging physical hunger that was taking him over.

But if she was pregnant, he couldn’t desert her. Not only would it be unworthy of him as a man, it would reflect badly on his character in a town the size of Jacobsville. The gossip would ruin Violet’s reputation and the shame might well kill her mother, considering Mrs. Hardy’s fragile health.

He cursed under his breath. If he’d never invited Violet home with him, none of this would ever have happened. Why couldn’t he have just let her go and left it at that? He’d landed them in hell with his uncontrollable passion. He couldn’t blame that on Violet. All the same, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

But he couldn’t let her quit. Not until he knew about her condition. He picked up the phone and punched in her number.

Violet had managed to hide her misery from her mother. She knew that Blake wouldn’t mind if she quit again. It would probably be a relief to him. He wanted her and he couldn’t have her on his terms. Perhaps it would make things easier if she went back to work for Duke. She should pick up the phone and call him, right now…

The phone rang, making her jump. She picked it up without thinking.

“Hello?” she said.

“Don’t quit,” Blake said quietly.

Her heart jumped up into her throat. “Excuse me?” she stammered.

“Let’s take it one day at a time, Violet. All right?” he asked, and he actually sounded as if he was rethinking the future.

She felt reborn. Her spirit soared. She could hardly contain the happiness she felt. “All right,” she said on a soft laugh. “One day at a time!”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.