“If Sarita were to marry, I’d give the land as a dowry.” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Copyright

“If Sarita were to marry, I’d give the land as a dowry.”

Anger coursed through Wolf at Santa’s grandfather’s statement. Wolf stood on one side of the old man, and his competition for the land—a smooth-talking lawyer—stood on the other. “Sarita’s not going to take kindly to you ‘buying’ her a husband,” Wolf said.

“Then I suggest we don’t tell her,” the old man said. “If either of you breathes a word of this to Sarita, I’ll sell the land to whoever didn’t.”

“I’ll keep the secret,” the lawyer said. “I’d best be on my way, since I have some courting to do. Your granddaughter is a fine-looking woman,” he added on his way out.

“If you want that land, Wolf, I suggest you go do some courting yourself,” the old man said. “You have serious competition.”

“I would never consider marrying a woman for a piece of land,” Wolf said. “Besides, Sarita and I are natural-born antagonists.”

The old man simply smiled.

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Romance novels aren’t just for other women—the wonder of a Silhouette Romance is that it can touch your heart. And this month’s selections are guaranteed to leave you smiling!

In Suzanne McMinn’s engaging BUNDLES OF JOY title, The Billionaire and the Bassinet, a blue blood finds his hardened heart irrevocably tamed. This month’s FABULOUS FATHERS offering by Jodi O‘Donnell features an emotional, heartwarming twist you won’t soon forget; in Dr. Dad to the Rescue, a man discovers strength and the healing power of love from one very special lady. Marrying O’Malley. the renegade who’d been her childhood nemesis, seemed the perfect way for a bride-to-be to thwart an unwanted betrothal—until their unlikely alliance stirred an even more incredible passion; don’t miss this latest winner by Elizabeth August!

The Cowboy Proposes...Marriage? Get the charming lowdown as WRANGLERS & LACE continues with this sizzling story by Cathay Forsythe. Cara Colter will make you laugh and cry with A Bride Worth Waiting For, the story of the boy next door who didn’t get the girl, but who’ll stop at nothing to have her now. For readers who love powerful, dramatic stories, you won’t want to miss Paternity Lessons, Maris Soule’s uplifting FAMILY MATTERS tale.

Enjoy this month’s titles—and please drop me a line about why you keep coming back to Romance. I want to make sure we continue fulfilling your dreams!

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Marrying O’Malley
Elizabeth August

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELIZABETH AUGUST

lives in the mountains of North Carolina with her husband, Doug, a chemist. They have three grown sons. Their oldest is pursuing a career in medicine, their middle son is a chemical engineer and their youngest is now in college.

Having survived a bout with cancer, Elizabeth has now joined the ranks of cancer survivors. Writing will always be her primary pursuit and will remain at the top of her list of loves just below her husband, sons and daughter-in-law.

Chapter One

Returning to Lost River had not been in Wolf O‘Malley’s plans. But a couple of days ago he’d learned of his father’s death nearly two months earlier. The news had come as a shock, but he hadn’t returned to pay his last respects to his father. He’d come out of respect to his mother’s memory and to claim what should rightfully be his. He wanted nothing that had belonged to the O’Malleys; it was the dowry that his mother had taken into her marriage, land that had belonged to her family for generations, that he’d come for. Willow O‘Malley had died when he was ten, but time had not dulled his memories of her. Her spirit, he knew, would not rest easy with her land in the hands of Katherine O’Malley, Frank’s second wife.

He had sent no word of his arrival ahead. Surprise was always an advantage, and where Katherine was concerned, a man would be a fool not to use any advantage in his favor. Last night he’d stayed in Phoenix, intending to make his presence first known when he walked into Bradford Dillion’s law office at nine this morning. But a mixture of emotions had refused to allow him to rest. He’d risen before dawn, and now, as the first rays of light were barely peeking over the horizon, he sought out his father’s grave.

The O’Malley plot, the burial site of four generations of his father’s family, loomed ahead of him, enclosed by a low iron fence. Standing in front of one of the graves was a woman. Her thick black hair was plaited into a single braid that hung nearly to her waist, and she was clothed in faded jeans, a blue blouse and sneakers.

Changing direction slightly, he used a nearby tree to mask his approach until he could get a look at her face. Pretty, of Mexican descent, he noted. His gaze narrowed as recognition dawned. She’d matured, lost that girlish, impish look, but he knew without a doubt that the woman was Sarita Lopez. So what was she doing at his family plot? The last he recalled, she had no connection to anyone in his family. While he watched, she bowed her head and clasped her hands together, presumably saying a prayer.

Leaving the shadow of the tree, he continued to the plot, stepping over the low fence instead of entering through the break left for visitors.

Sarita straightened abruptly as a flash of boot caught her eye. No one ever came to the cemetery this early. Silently she cursed under her breath. The last thing in the world she wanted was for anyone to find out she paid visits to the O’Malley plot.

Frantically trying to think of some plausible excuse, she met the intruder’s gaze. At first her mind refused to comprehend what she saw. The facial features of the tall, muscular man standing in front of her were harsher than she remembered, but there was no mistaking his identity. The color drained from her face. As her knees threatened to buckle, two strong hands closed around her upper arms.

“I never thought of you as the fainting type,” Wolf said.

“I thought you were dead!” she exclaimed. For one brief moment she considered the possibility that her imagination was working overtime. But her imagination wasn’t that good. Through the fabric of her shirt she could feel the calluses on his palms and the heat radiating from his hands was as hot as the flame of a log.

Startled by this statement, Wolf looked at the gravestone in front of where she’d placed the flower. It bore his name. According to the inscription, he’d been dead for six years. A bitter taste filled his mouth as the anger he’d thought he’d conquered returned. Seeing her color returning, he released her. “Did my father even send out a search party?”

The cold, icy glint in his eyes and the hard, authoritative set of his jaw were all as she remembered. Still, Sarita was finding it difficult to believe he was really there. “The wreckage of the plane you were in was found on a mountainside. It took the Canadian authorities two weeks to get a rescue team to the site. They found the remains of two bodies. From what I gather there wasn’t much left to identify. The plane had burned on impact. Since you and the pilot were the only scheduled people onboard, it was assumed the bodies belonged to the two of you.”

“A backwoodsman, a friend of the pilot, showed up at the last minute and we agreed to give him a lift back to his place. It was on our way. Apparently the pilot must not have taken the time to add the man’s name to his passenger list, and no one else must have noticed the man coming onboard.”

“Apparently,” Sarita replied. “But how did you get out of the plane? The authorities said it was a terrible impact.”

“My seat belt must have been defective. It opened. I was thrown forward, my head hit something hard, and the world went black. I figure I went through the front windshield. Anyway, when I regained consciousness, I was in a snowbank about thirty feet from the charred wreckage in pretty bad shape but alive.” The bitterness in his voice deepened. “Guess nobody was all that interested in questioning the identity of the bodies. My being dead was as good a resolution to the conflicts between me and my father as any.”

Everyone in town knew Wolf had left because of the bitter feelings between him and his dad. It was possible he wouldn’t care, but she thought he deserved to know that his death had affected his father strongly. “I’m sure he didn’t feel that way. I take the shortcut through the cemetery almost daily and say a prayer over my parents’ and my grandmother’s graves on my way into town. Many mornings I saw him here. On your birthday he’d bring a special token...a feather or stone. The pain I saw on his face convinced me he regretted that things were never set right between the two of you.”

Knowing his father had felt some remorse caused a momentary chink in Wolf’s armor of cynicism, but flashes of memory quickly mended the dent. “His regrets came a little too late.”

She was still finding this turn of events hard to comprehend. “How did you survive? Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back?” She blurted out the questions in quick succession.

“An old woodsman found me and nursed me to back to health. For the first time since my mother’s death I found peace there with him in the wilderness. And since no one had come looking for me, I figured no one would miss me, so I stayed.” His gaze returned to her, and the question that had entered his mind when he first saw her repeated itself. “I am curious as to why you’re here. We were never on good terms.”

She’d asked herself that same thing many times and had not been able to come up with an answer. There was no reason his death should have affected her as deeply as it had. Her pride refused to let him guess that she’d missed him, so she shrugged to indicate her actions were of little consequence. “With your father gone, I figured someone should remember you.” Not wanting to give him a chance to question her further, she strode away.

Wolf watched her leave. She was right about there possibly being no one left to mourn him. Katherine, his stepmother, had taught him to distrust and had turned him bitter toward the world. By the time he’d left to inspect his father’s interests in Alaska, he’d alienated a great many people.

In his mind’s eye he saw Joe Johnson, the old woodsman who had found him. “Anger muddles the mind and dulls the senses,” Joe had cautioned him many times. “You become the prey instead of the hunter.”

Wolf turned back to his father’s gravestone. He had not been entirely honest with Sarita. Grudgingly he admitted to himself that at least part of the reason he’d stayed in the wilderness with Joe was because he was hiding out, escaping the constant battles with his stepmother. “I will not be bested a second time by that she-devil you married,” he vowed, his emotions once again under stern control.

When the prickling on the back of her neck ceased, Sarita glanced over her shoulder to see Wolf again staring at his father’s stone. A smile began to curl one corner of her mouth. She wanted to issue a shriek of delight. He was alive! It was as if a rush of fresh, sweet air was swirling around her, giving the day a sense of energy and renewal.

In the next instant the smile had turned to a self-directed scowl. It didn’t make any sense that his being alive should mean that much to her. They were the same age and had both grown up in this town. And from the beginning she and Wolf O’Malley had been at odds with each other. A flush of embarrassment reddened her neck and traveled upward. He was probably thinking she was a desperately lonely woman to waste her time stopping by the grave of a man who had not even been a friend.

And she couldn’t blame him if he did think that. There had been many times when she’d considered cutting those visits from her morning route. But she hadn’t. She pondered this as she continued into town.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Gladys Kowaski, Sarita’s fellow waitress said, looking up from giving the tables a final inspection as Sarita entered the Cactus Café. The thirty-two-year-old, pretty, blond, blue-eyed woman gave her body a shake to imitate an exaggerated chill. “I don’t know how you can walk through that cemetery every morning. It gives me the creeps.”

“The unhappy souls haunt the places where they died, not their graves.” Sarita tossed back her usual rebuttal, unable to recall how many times she and Gladys had had this same exchange.

Gladys continued to regard her narrowly. “No, really. This morning you look as if something really shook you.”

Sarita wasn’t ready to discuss Wolf O’Malley. Besides, it occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t ready for anyone to know he was in town. He had chosen a very early hour to visit the cemetery. “There’s just something unusual in the air, don’t you think?” she replied, continuing into the back room to find her apron.

“And what has my two lovely waitresses looking as if they are on the verge of an argument this morning?” Jules Desmond, the owner and chef, asked as the two women entered the kitchen where he was preparing the food for cooking and serving. He added a “tisk-tisk.” “Strife is not good for the customers’ digestion.”

“And neither is your food with all those chilies you put in it,” Gladys returned.

Jules, fifty-eight, widowed, balding and slightly on the plump side, skewed his face into an exaggerated expression of dismay. “That was an unfair cut.”

Looking repentant, Gladys put her arm around his shoulders. “You’re right. Your cooking is actually very good.”

Jules’s smile returned. “So what’s going on between the two of you?”

“Nothing,” Sarita assured him.

Disappointment showed on his face. “In New York there was always some juicy gossip to start the day, or at least one dispute between the employees that needed settling. Here there is next to nothing.”

“Your doctor sent you here for your health. You’re supposed to be living in a relaxed, laid-back environment,” Gladys reminded him.

He tossed her a disgruntled look. “I would like a little more excitement than wondering if Charlie Gregor will order his omelet with pickles or without today.”

“Maybe you’ll get it. Sarita says she can feel something unusual in the air.”

Jules turned his attention to Sarita. “You could be right Mary Beth came in last night to bake pies, and not only did she bake her usuals, she made a gooseberry one, a chocolate layer cake and a coconut layer cake.”

“Sounds more like she’s pregnant again,” Gladys said. “Or she had a hell of a fight with Ned. Both send her into cooking frenzies.”

A knock on the front door caused them all to look through the serving slit to the public area of the café.

“Looks like Charlie’s here,” Jules said, glancing at the clock over the stove. “And right on the minute. Time to open up.”

“Fifty cents he wants pickles this morning,” Gladys wagered, heading out of the kitchen.

“No bet,” Sarita replied. “This morning I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted sauerkraut.”

Gladys glanced back at her. “You really meant it when you said you thought there was something unusual in the air.”

“Believe me, today this town could be in for a surprise,” Sarita replied.

Gladys stopped, the expression on her face stern. “What...?”

Charlie knocked harder on the door and Sarita wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t a gossip. When Wolf O’Malley wanted people to know he was in town, he’d let them know. “Better get that door open before Charlie breaks it down.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any answer that would satisfy her, Gladys grinned good-naturedly. “Now that would be news. Starving Patron Breaks Down Door of Local Diner to Get to Food. We’d probably have people coming all the way from Phoenix for breakfast,” she jested, hurrying to open the door.

“’Bout time,” Charlie grumbled, shuffling in and taking a seat at his usual table by the window. Tall and only slightly stooped with age, lanky, with skin deeply wrinkled, permanently tanned and leathery from a lifetime spent in the outdoors, at ninety-seven years of age, he was the oldest resident of their town and some thought the most cantankerous. “There’s a chill in the air today,” he announced. “I’ll have black coffee, scrambled eggs, bacon and a side of beans and biscuits.”

“You’re right. There’s definitely something in the air. Charlie didn’t even order an omelet,” Gladys said as she passed Sarita on her way to the kitchen.

During the next few minutes the usual early-morning customers began to come in. The sheriff and a couple of his deputies joined the mayor for their regular off-the-record meeting to discuss issues important to them or relay any important information about happenings during the night.

Bradford Dillion took his usual seat toward the back. Elderly, lanky and dressed in a three-piece suit, he’d been the O’Malley family lawyer for as long as anyone could remember. Sarita trusted and liked him and was grateful his table was in her section.

She was equally grateful that Greg Pike’s table wasn’t. He, too, was a lawyer. In his late forties, handsome and always well dressed, he was considered quite a catch by many in town. But he was too glib for her taste. He always had something flattering to say, but to her it didn’t ring true. As usual he was joined by Henry Jarrot, the president of the Lost River Bank and Frank O’Malley’s former business partner.

“Sarita.” Greg Pike waved her over.

She knew what he wanted and she might as well get it out of the way early. “What can I do for you, Mr. Pike?” she asked, approaching his table.

“Your granddaddy ready to sell that worthless land of his yet?” Greg asked.

“He doesn’t consider it worthless. He considers it my legacy.”

“We’re offering him more than fair market value. There’s nobody else who’s even going to want it. If I was you, I’d talk to him. You two can keep the house and an acre, maybe even two or four, surrounding it. He’ll still have his home and his garden and he won’t have to tend other people’s yards or weed their gardens to made ends meet. As for you, you’ll have a nice nest egg in the bank.”

“We make ends meet just fine. He takes the yard and gardening jobs because he likes to keep busy. Like I’ve told you, the land is a part of who he is.” She eyed him suspiciously. Ever since he’d made the offer for the seventy acres her grandfather owned, she’d wondered why. “Besides, I don’t understand what’s so important about mγ grandfather’s land. There’s plenty of other property you could buy for less.”

“Now that Katherine...Mrs. O’Malley owns the land adjacent to his, she’s considering balding a health spa...a place where the wealthy from Phoenix can come and be rejuvenated,” Greg Pike elaborated. “She wants to ensure her guests privacy by having plenty of land surrounding the main buildings, plus she wants to provide them with an expanse for horseback riding. But most important, she feels that spring in the canyon on your grandfather’s property would be the perfect draw...an oasis in the midst of this arid land.”

“Paul Glasgow tried that spa idea and went bankrupt.”

“But he didn’t have a picturesque spring to p—” Greg’s protest died in his throat. His jaw froze and Sarita noticed Henry Jarrot pale, then realized that the entire diner had suddenly become quiet. Everyone was staring at the door. Even before she turned to see who had come in, she knew.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Charlie chortled. “Talk about rising from the dead.”

“It can’t be,” Henry Jarrot muttered, his tone telling Sarita he was not happy about this turn of events.

“Wolf? Wolf O’Malley?” Bradford Dillion had risen and was heading toward the newcomer, his hand outstretched. “Is it really you?”

“In the flesh,” Wolf replied. He’d been standing in the doorway, his bulk nearly filling it. Now he strode to meet the elderly lawyer. Figuring Sarita had already spread the word about his arrival, he’d decided that keeping in the shadows before he went to Bradford’s office was a waste of his time. But from the expressions on everyone’s faces, he guessed he’d misjudged her. Clearly she hadn’t said anything to anyone about him. “I was just going to have some breakfast before coming to see you.”

“Join me, boy, join me. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Bradford had reached him and combined a welcoming handshake with a one-armed hug.

“Katherine O’Malley ain’t going to like this,” the sheriff drawled in hushed tones that carried to the others at his table and a few nearby including Sarita. She saw the mayor and deputies nod.

“You’re going to have to say something to him,” Greg insisted to Henry. Suspicion entered his voice. “Make sure it’s really him.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarita saw the facade of friendliness spread over Henry’s face.

“Wolf. Returned from the dead. What a surprise,” Henry said, rising and moving toward the two men heading to Bradford’s table.

Wolf stopped and turned to his father’s former business partner. “Henry.” He extended his hand.

Henry accepted the handshake and added a pat to Wolf’s shoulder. “Give me a call when you’re ready to discuss the business.”

Wolf raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Your father never changed his will,” Bradford said. “Katherine got the house, a healthy chunk of cash and all the personal belongings, but the rest, including the business, was divided equally between her, you, your half sister and your stepbrother.”

Wolf’s gaze swung to him. “My mother’s land.”

“All yours,” Bradford assured him.

Wolf breathed a satisfied sigh.

Sarita, who had taken a step back, saw Greg’s hand tighten into a fist around his napkin. He definitely didn’t like this turn of events. It was Wolf’s mother’s land that was adjacent to Sarita’s grandfathes’s...the land Katherine had earmarked for her spa. That Greg hadn’t raced out the door to contact Katherine O’Malley showed a certain amount of reserve, Sarita thought. Then she realized that he wouldn’t want to leave until he’d found out all he could.

Still embarrassed that Wolf had found her at his grave site, she would have preferred to remain in the background. But that would be cowardly, and pride refused to allow her to exhibit cowardliness in front of him. As Henry Jarrot returned to his table, she approached Bradford’s table. “Would you like something to drink while you decide what you want for breakfast?” she addressed Wolf in cool, efficient tones.

He looked up at her. Sarita Lopez had never behaved like he’d expected her to. “Apparently you are very good at keeping secrets,” he said in hushed tones.

“I figured that when you wanted people to know you were back, you’d let them know yourself,” she replied.

He nodded his approval. “I appreciate that.”

Glad she’d followed her instincts, Sarita noted that this had to be the first time the two of them hadn’t been arguing by the second sentence.

“You knew he was in town?” Bradford asked in the same lowered voice.

“I wanted to pay my respects to my mother,” Wolf elaborated. “We bumped into each other at the cemetery. She thought she was seeing a ghost.”

Grateful he hadn’t mentioned that she was at his grave site, she caught the look in his eye that told her he considered them even. And that suited her just fine. Returning her attention to her reason for even approaching him, she repeated, “Would you like something to drink while you look over the menu or are you ready to order?”

He glanced down at the menu. “Coffee to drink and I’ll have the Cowhand’s Special. Scramble the eggs,” he replied.

“Coming up.” Walking away, she saw the rest of the customers casting covert glances in Wolf’s direction. And unlike normal mornings when conversations flooded the place, voices overlapping each other until they were a muddle of noise, this morning conversations were being held softly, confining what was said to the occupants of the individual tables.

As she laid the paper containing Wolf’s order on the high, metal counter of the window between the kitchen and the serving area, Jules motioned her inside. Knowing she was going to have to talk to him sooner or later, she entered the kitchen.

“Who is this Wolf O’Malley?” he demanded in lowered tones, trying to keep an eye on his cooking food while watching for any further activity among the customers. “This is the first real excitement I’ve seen in this town since Norma Alexander caught Rupert Gordon peeping in her bedroom window.”

“He’s Frank O’Malley’s eldest son. Everyone thought he was dead,” Sarita replied. “Now I’ve really got to get back to my customers.”

But before she could make her escape, Gladys entered. “Isn’t this the most exciting thing? Ms. High and Mighty Katherine O’Malley is not going to like it.”

Jules looked confused. “I’d think she would be glad her son was alive.”

“He’s not her son,” Gladys explained. “He’s her stepson. His mother was Willow Bluefeather.”

“An Indian?” Jules asked, his interest increasing.

Gladys nodded. “Full-blooded Cherokee. I don’t remember her well. I do remember that she was very pretty.”

Jules peered harder out the window. “Yes, he does look as if he has Native American blood in him.”

“Willow Bluefeather O’Malley was beautiful and one of the sweetest women in the world,” Sarita said, recalling the kindness Willow had always exhibited toward everyone. “She died of some complication associated with the flu when Wolf was ten. His father married Katherine when he was twelve. He and his stepmother never got along.”

A knowing look came over Gladys’s face. “My Roy has always said Katherine wanted Wolf out of the picture so her own children could inherit everything.” In response to Jules’s raised eyebrow, she added, “Preston O’Malley was her son from a previous marriage. She made sure Frank adopted him so he would be sure to share in the inheritance. Claudia is Frank and Katherine’s child, but I think she only had her to satisfy Frank. Anyone can see that Katherine is partial to Preston. She thinks the sun rises and sets on him.”

Jules nodded his head. “She’s definitely spoiled him.”

Sarita had only been half listening. She’d been recalling how badly Wolf had taken his mother’s passing. In spite of the fact that she and he had never gotten along, she’d felt obliged to seek him out and offer her condolences. He’d growled at her, and she’d never approached him again. And she didn’t like gossiping about him now. She nodded toward the bacon that was fast becoming too crisp to serve. “We’d better get back to our customers, and you’d better get back to your cooking,” she told Jules.

Letting out a cry of dismay, he quickly returned his attention to his stove.

“Looks like life is going to get real interesting around here for a while,” Gladys noted as she and Sarita left the kitchen.

“I suppose interesting is as good a word as any,” Sarita muttered back, doubting Katherine O’Malley would use that same adjective.

Chapter Two

Sarita looked at the clock. It was nearly three. The normal hours for the diner were from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Constantly reminding people that he was semiretired, Jules reserved the rest of the day to work on recipes for the cookbook he was creating or pursuing his second passion...golf. Normally the last of their customers cleared out by two-thirty. Today the place was still half-full. And Jules wasn’t helping to ease the customers out, either. He’d closed down the kitchen and come out front, but instead of subtly mentioning that the afternoon was getting late, he was pouring coffee and entering into the various conversations about Wolf’s return from the grave.

The general consensus was that Katherine would be furious and she was a dangerous woman when riled.

“But Wolf O’Malley can be just as dangerous. Even more so,” Vivian Kale said, loud enough for all to hear.

Several others nodded knowingly.

Sarita knew what they were thinking. Her sense of fairness refused to let her remain silent. “There was never any proof those rumors were true.”

“What rumors?” Jules demanded.

“Some people think he pushed Katherine down the stairs when he was fifteen. Broke her arm,” one of the men said.

“The story she told was that she fell on her own,” Sarita reminded them all.

“Yeah, but her telling that tale never rang true to my ears. Could be she said it to keep peace in the family and the police out of it,” Vivian argued. “And, as I recall, Frank shipped Wolf off to that military academy right afterward.”

“Because his highfalutin stepmom had been trying to get rid of Wolf all along. Wouldn’t put it past her to have faked that fall down the stairs.” Charlie entered the fray. He didn’t usually come back for lunch, but Sarita had noted that several who only came for breakfast had come a second time today. And she was grateful Charlie was there. It was only right that Wolf should have at least one customer who would stick up for him.

“Her broken arm was no fake,” Vivian retorted.

“Could be she didn’t plan on breaking it,” Charlie rebutted.

“You’ve never liked Katherine O‘Malley,” Vivian fumed. "You’d take Wolf’s side if you’d seen him doing the deed."

Charlie glared at her. “Wouldn’t lie for no man nor woman.”

“Now, now. Keep your tempers under control,” Jules soothed.

One of the men laughed. “This ain’t nothing compared to what’s probably going on at the O’Malley place right now.”

The rest nodded, almost in unison.

“My money’s on Katherine,” another customer called out from a side table.

“You weren’t around when Wolf came back to town after college,” another spoke up. “Never seen a man so cold or in control.”

“Looks like six years away hasn’t changed him, either,” Vivian said. “When I passed him on the street a little bit ago, he gave me an icy stare that sent chills down my spine.”

Vivian, Sarita noted, was really getting on her nerves. “He’s probably had people staring at him all day. He was just returning tit for tat.”

Vivian snorted. “I don’t know why you’re so intent on defending him. I don’t recall the two of you being such good friends.”

Sarita was surprised herself by the intensity of her desire to defend Wolf. It was very close to a need. “We weren’t, but I don’t think it’s right to sit here and condemn him with unsubstantiated gossip.”

“Bradford Dillion obviously likes him,” Jules pointed out. “I’ve always thought he was a good judge of character.”

“Bradford Dillion was a friend of Wolf’s mother and her family. I don’t think he ever approved of Frank’s marriage to Katherine,” Vivian said.

Sarita found herself fighting the urge to shove a pie into the woman’s face. Shocked that she would consider going to such lengths on Wolf’s behalf, she reminded herself that Vivian had always gotten on her nerves.

“And the fact that Katherine has made it clear she intends to petition the court to have Dillion removed as executor of Frank’s estate and Greg Pike put in his place might have something to do with Dillion’s joy at seeing Wolf. Wolf will fight her tooth and nail to see that his father’s wishes are followed to the letter, especially any that go against hers,” one of the men from the back offered.

“If I were Katherine O’Malley, I’d hire a bodyguard.” Vivian gave her head a violent nod to add emphasis to her words.

Sarita’s patience came within a hair of snapping. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.” When only Charlie added a grunt of support, it did snap. She glared at the assembly. “Don’t you all have something better to do with your afternoon than sit around and rehash old gossip?”

Jules looked at her worriedly, then a look of apology spread over his face as his gaze swept his customers. “It is past three.”

In a mild flurry of activity, the patrons paid and left.

When he, Gladys and Sarita were alone, Sarita braced herself to be fired. Instead Jules studied her with interest. “I’ve never seen you lose your temper. Is Wolf O’Malley an old flame that hasn’t quite died?”

“I didn’t know you even knew him,” Gladys muttered, also studying Sarita. “The two of you didn’t act like old friends when he was in here this morning.”

“When he was still going to school here, we were in the same class. And, you’re right, we weren’t friends. But I felt someone should stick up for him. It was like a lynch mob in here.” Not wanting to answer any more questions, she looked to Jules and said stiffly, “Now are you going to fire me or shall we get this place cleaned up so we can go home?”

“It’s been a long day. Let’s clean up this place,” he replied.

Both Gladys and Jules allowed her to do her work in peace, but she could feel them covertly looking her way every once in a while and was glad when she was finally on her way home.

The old rambling adobe ranch house she shared with her grandfather was a couple of miles out of town. In bad weather she drove. In good weather she preferred to walk. As she neared the end of the long, dirt driveway, she could see Luis Lopez seated, as usual, in his cane chair on the front porch, whittling. The chair was balanced on the two back legs, and his feet were propped up on the porch railing.

“Abuelo, did you hear the news?” she asked, mounting the porch, then leaning against one of the pillars holding up the roof.

He grinned, causing the deep weather-induced wrinkles of his permanently tanned skin to become even more pronounced. “If you’re talking about Wolf O’Malley returning, I did. I was weeding Mrs. Yager’s flower garden when the young Ballori woman came by to tell her. Seems his reappearance has caused quite a stir.”

Sarita nodded. “This turn of events should stop Greg Pike from pestering us about purchasing this land.”

“You’d think so.” Luis’s grin disappeared. “But it hasn’t. When I came home for lunch, he was on our doorstep with an even bigger offer. He says that since we have the spring on our property, Katherine can still build her spa.”

“Once she gets a notion, she’s like a dog with a bone,” Sarita muttered.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe I should sell.”

Shock registered on Sarita’s face. “You can’t be serious. You love this land.”

“I’m an old man. I’m satisfied with my life. But you...you could take the money to travel, to see the world.”

Sarita saw the worry in his eyes and guessed what was really on his mind. “I like it here. This land is as much a part of me as it is of you. It’s where I belong. And if I want to see the world, I’ve got enough saved up to take a trip.”

“You could go to college.”

They’d had this discussion before, as well. “I don’t want to go to college. I like my life as it is.”

“You have taken the vow you made to your father to watch over me much too seriously. You’ve restricted your opportunities. You work at the café, you come home and work in the garden, you ride your horse, you take care of me. What kind of life is that?”

“Peaceful.” Silently she admitted that there were times when her life seemed to lack fulfillment, but she wasn’t ready to admit that to her grandfather. Both her mother and grandmother had died when she was very young. Her father and grandfather had raised her. When she was in her late teens her father had died, leaving her the only one left to watch over the old man in front of her, and she would not shirk that duty.

“I worry about what will happen to you when I’m gone. I don’t want to see you alone in the world. You should have a husband and a family.”

They’d had this conversation a hundred times before. Her usual response was to say that she would do just fine on her own, that she liked being an independent woman. The words formed on the tip of her tongue, but when she opened her mouth, she heard herself saying, “All right. I’ll admit, I’d like to find a husband and have a family. But I’m not so desperate I’d take your money and go scouring the world or college campuses for one.”

Triumph glistened in his eyes. “You could go stay with my cousin José in Mexico City,” he coaxed. “The last time you were there, you had four proposals.”

“They wanted an American wife so they could come to this country.”

“You don’t have enough faith in yourself. One, maybe two, had that in mind, but not all four. I know for a fact that Greco was in love with you.”

“He got over it fast enough. He was married within two months of the time I left and the father of twins barely nine months later.”

“You rejected him and he was forced to move on with his life.”

“For someone as desperately in love as he claimed, he moved on fairly quickly, don’t you think?” she returned dryly.

Luis’s gaze narrowed on her with purpose. “I want to see you married, with a husband to look after you.”

“I don’t need anyone to look after me.” She gave an impatient snort. “Men! If I was a male you wouldn’t be so anxious about my being married.”

“You’re wrong. I would want you to have a wife to look after you. When the Lord ordered Noah to gather all the animals in pairs, he did it for a reason. The man looks after the woman and the woman looks after the man. Together they make a whole.”

“I feel perfectly whole on my own.”

“Evening,” a male voice drawled, as its owner rounded the corner of the house.

Startled, Sarita gasped.

“Guess I forgot to mention that Wolf is going to be boarding with us,” her grandfather said.

“I was driving by your place to take a look at my property when I saw the Room for Rent sign,” Wolf said, mounting the porch.

Sarita stared at him. “You and me under the same roof?”

“I know we used to get on each other nerves as kids but we’re adults now. I figure we can keep our tempers in check.”

“Sure, no problem.” She knew she’d sound childish if she voiced any doubts, but already the thought of his continued presence was causing an uneasiness within. He’s right, grow up, she ordered herself.

“I told him he could have kitchen privileges as long as he cleans up after himself. And he’s paying extra to have his evening meal provided,” Luis spoke up. “I warned him it wouldn’t be anything fancy. I’ve got a stew cooking for tonight. Figured you could make some corn bread.”

“Corn bread, sure,” she managed levelly.

Wolf nodded his approval. “Stew and corn bread sound great.”

Getting over the shock of seeing him, Sarita began to wonder how much of the conversation between her grandfather and her he’d overheard. Voices traveled on the arid air. Her shoulders stiffened with pride. So what if he knew she was on her way to spinsterhood? Even if he hadn’t overheard, he’d have guessed it soon enough. He knew she was twenty-eight. And it was obvious she wasn’t married. If he stuck around, he’d soon learn she didn’t have any prospects, either. “I’ll go check on the stew.”

After giving the stew a quick stir, Sarita could not keep herself from doing a little eavesdropping at the living room window. Wolf had settled into the chair beside her grandfather on the front porch, and the men were discussing the weather and whether it would be a hard winter or not. Self-mockery spread over her face as she admitted to herself that she’d been afraid they’d been discussing her. You’re the last subject in the world that would interest Wolf O’Malley, her inner voice chided.

Leaving the men on their own, she busied herself in the guest room, making certain it was dusted and fresh linens were on the bed. A single leather satchel lay on the floor, still packed. Staring down at it, she recalled that once during her teenage years she’d found herself unexpectedly attracted to him and visualized him suddenly looking her way, seeing her as appealing and coming to call.

“Now that was a moment of lunacy,” she grumbled to herself. Scowling at the bag, she hoped he would change his mind and seek other quarters.

“There’s nothing in there that will bite.”

Jerking her gaze to the door, she saw Wolf standing there, watching her from behind a shuttered mask. “I was just getting your room into shape,” she managed evenly.

He continued to stand in the doorway, blocking her escape. “If you’re worried that I’ll harm you or your grandfather, I promise you I won’t.”

She frowned in confusion. “That thought never crossed my mind.”

He scowled with disbelief. “I know the stories Kath erine spread about me. Everyone in town thinks I pushed her down those stairs.”

“Not everyone. I never did. And neither did my father or grandfather.”

His expression remained skeptical.

Feeling the need to prove her words, she added, “It’s not that we didn’t think she could have provoked you into it, it’s just that if you had done it, you would have admitted it.”

Bitterness etched itself into his features. “It’s a shame my father didn’t have the same faith in me.”

“From what I’ve heard, Katherine can be very persuasive.”

Purpose replaced the bitterness on his face. “This time she’ll learn that she’s met her match.”

Sarita suddenly was worried for him. She’d seen Katherine in action and knew the woman could be a formidable foe. “Be careful,” she warned.

“I plan to,” Wolf assured her.

She found herself considering offering her aid, should he need it, and recalled the last time she’d tried to befriend him. No sense in embarrassing herself a second time, she decided. “I should get back to the kitchen.” Edging toward the door, she gave him space to move out of her way.

Stepping aside, Wolf let her pass. As she headed down the hall, he watched her. Earlier in the day, Bradford had offered him a room at his place and he’d accepted. But when he’d driven out to the land that had brought him back, he’d passed the Lopez property and seen the Room for Rent sign on their gate. His curiosity still piqued by his early-morning encounter with Sarita at the cemetery, he’d called Bradford and told him that his plans had changed.

He frowned as he started to unpack. Sarita Lopez wasn’t pleased to have him there. That was obvious. So why the visit to his grave? Her explanation that she thought someone should remember him seemed lame considering their history. “Joe always said trying to read a woman’s mind is harder than figuring reasons for God to have created mosquitoes,” Wolf muttered under his breath. “And he’s right.”

His expression turned grim. “Except where my stepmother is concerned.” He understood her very well. She was spoiled and selfish and would use any means to achieve her aims.

He smiled to himself as he put his clothes in the bureau. He’d come prepared to fight for the land that was his. Now there would be no need. Not only did he have the land, but a chunk of his father’s wealth would be his along with a percentage of the family business. And he planned to make his presence felt.

The slamming of a car door caught his attention.

“Where is he?” a familiar female voice demanded.

Wolf strode down the hall, halting a few feet from the front door as Katherine pushed open the screen door and entered. “So you are alive.” Her gaze raked over him. “I was in Houston when Greg called to tell me the news. I had to come see for myself. ”

“Greg Pike?” Wolf spoke in an easy drawl, keeping his posture relaxed as if her presence was of little concern. “Bradford did tell me you’d hired him to be your lawyer. Bradford said you even tried to have him removed as executor of my father’s will and Pike put in his place.”

Fury flashed in Katherine’s eyes. “Bradford Dillion was your father’s lawyer. He has never had my best interests at heart.”

“Bradford Dillion is an honorable man.”

Katherine shrugged as if that meant nothing to her, then her expression turned icy. “I didn’t come here to discuss Bradford Dillion. How much is it going to cost me to get you out of my life?”

“I’m planning on staying. My roots are here.”

Katherine’s cheeks flushed with rage. Issuing a snort of disgust, she pivoted and strode out of the house, ignoring both Sarita standing in the living room doorway and Luis who had risen and followed in Katherine’s wake to the screened door.

“So you’re gonna build yourself a home on Willow’s land?” Luis asked as Katherine’s car sped away.

Wolf shrugged. “Haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. But there’s no reason for Katherine to know that.”

Sarita eased back into the living room out of view of the men and drew a long, calming breath. She had tensed during the confrontation between Katherine and Wolf, her body readying itself to intercede if Katherine tried to harm him. Shaken by the strength of this unexpected instinct to protect him, she continued into the kitchen and sank into a chair at the table. Get a grip, she told herself. Wolf O’Malley was the last person in the world who needed or wanted her protection.

“I apologize for that scene just now.”

Sarita jerked around to see Wolf crossing to the sink. The kitchen was the largest room in the house and had always seemed spacious to her until this moment. His presence suddenly made it seem small and crowded. Not wanting him to guess he was the reason she was so shaken, she said, “Your stepmother has always scared me a little.”

“She’s always scared me, too,” he admitted with a crooked grin.

The unexpected boyishness on his face caused a curious curl within her.

“Glasses?” He motioned toward the cabinets.

“The one to your right.” Remembering her manners, she added quickly, “Would you like some iced tea or soda?”

“Just water.” Running a glassful, he drank half, then leaning against the counter, studied her thoughtfully. “The way I remember it, you and I didn’t get along very well from day one.”

Her gaze rested on his well-worn boots as her mind flashed back to their childhood. About a mile and a half farther down the road that ran in front of her grandfather’s home, Frank O‘Malley had built Willow O’Malley stables and corrals on the property that had been Willow’s dowry so that she could keep horses and ride her land when she pleased. Even before he could walk, Willow would bring her son out to ride with her.

Frank O’Malley had hired Luis to caretake the stables and corrals and tend the horses. When Sarita was barely five, Luis began taking her along with him, thus hers and Wolf’s paths had crossed very early. She raised her gaze to his face. “You were always trying to boss me around.”

“You were always doing something that could get you hurt.”

The same reproving tone he’d used when they were both seven years old laced his words and, as they had those many years ago, her eyes flashed with defiance. “We had a couple of horses, and I had my own pony. My grandfather had taught me all about taking care of them. I knew what I was doing.”

Wolf remembered the small, dark-haired girl who had glared at him just as the woman she had become was glaring at him now. “Guess we still know how to get on each other’s nerves.”

“Seems that way,” she admitted.

Another memory of their distant past returned. “You still owe me a thank-you,” he said.

Sarita knew what he was talking about. They’d been fourteen at the time. She’d been out riding alone and her horse had been spooked by a snake and thrown her. When the horse came back to the barn alone, her grandfather had organized a search. It had been Wolf who had found her. Despite their combative association, she’d experienced a tingle of excitement that he’d been her rescuer. Then he’d spoiled everything. “Enduring a half hour lecture from you in that know-it-all tone of yours killed any gratitude I was feeling.”

Wolf recalled her sitting on a rock, her shirt torn and leg bloodied. He’d hated seeing her injured. Even today the memory bothered him. “You shouldn’t have gone out riding alone.”

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. “I was old enough not to need a chaperon.”

“Obviously you weren’t.”

“We were the same age, and you thought you were old enough to go riding alone,” she snapped.

Wolf eased himself away from the counter. “Looks like we still mix like oil and water.” Striding to the door, he paused and looked back. “Thought maybe you were stopping by my grave because you felt bad about our fighting all the time. Guess I was wrong. Seems that’s part of our nature.”

As his footfalls echoed down the hall, Sarita fought the urge to scream. No one could rile her the way Wolf O’Malley could.

Chapter Three

Sarita had just put the corn bread in the oven when again the sound of a car coming down the drive caught her attention. Setting the timer, she headed to the front door. Through the living room window, she saw the red, convertible sports car come to a halt. A curl of dislike wove through her as the pretty, blond-haired driver emerged. Janice DuPree Corbett was a couple of years younger than Sarita. A member of Katherine’s social circle, she considered anyone outside of that circle dirt under her feet and to be ignored.

“Wolf! I had to see for myself. You really are alive,” Janice drawled, her expertly made up lips curving into a smile as she approached the porch. “Now, you’re a sight I never thought I’d see again.”

Choosing not to continue to the front door, but instead moving to the window, Sarita saw Wolf ease himself off the porch railing and into a standing position to welcome the newcomer. Luis rose, also.

Reaching the level of the porch, Janice hugged Wolf.

“I was in Houston all day. When I got home, there was a message on my answering machine from my mother telling me you were back in town. I just couldn’t believe it.”

Sarita noted that Janice had not even glanced toward Luis.

Realizing his presence was not going to be recognized by Wolf’s visitor, Luis reseated himself and returned to his whittling.

Janice’s gaze shifted from Wolf to the house. “And why in the world are you staying here?” The implication that this ranch was much too far beneath him was clear in her voice. A sensual smile spread over her face. “You’re welcome to come stay with me.”

“I don’t think your husband would like that,” Wolf replied. “Jack and I never did get along.”

Janice gave her hair a playful flip. “Jack is ancient history.” Her smile became enticing. “I’ve come to take you to dinner. Mother hired some fancy French chef and let me have Caroline. You always loved Caroline’s cooking. She’ll make something delicious and we can eat by candlelight on the patio. Then you can decide if you want to stay here or remain with me.” She ran her fingers along his jawline. “We should never have quarreled. I only married Jack because I was so angry with you. I never stopped thinking about you.”

Capturing her arms before she could wrap them around his neck, Wolf took a step back, putting distance between them. “As tempting as your invitation is, I have to pass on it.”

Sarita felt dizzy and realized she’d been holding her breath, waiting for his answer. Gulping in air, she experienced a rush of relief. She’d never trusted Janice.

Again stunned by the protective instinct she was experiencing toward the man, she told herself that he could take care of himself. On the other hand, any man can be taken in by a pretty face and good figure, she mused, and her uneasiness returned.

With the uneasiness came frustration aimed at herself. She and Wolf couldn’t be in the same room for five minutes without fighting. Why should she care so much about what he did? What he does is his business, not mine!

Refusing to give up without having the last word, Janice took a step toward Wolf, raised up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “In case you change your mind, I’m leaving the invitation open.” With a final flirtatious smile, she strode back to her car and drove off.

“I apologize for Janice’s bad manners,” Wolf said to Luis, as they watched the sports car disappearing in the distance.

Luis shrugged. “She’s still angry with me for refusing her offer of a job. I explained to her that I’m an old man and can only do so much, and Mrs. Jessip needed me more. Susan Jessip can’t work her garden any longer and she needs the vegetables. But Mrs. Corbett didn’t want to take no for an answer. She doubled the amount she’d offered. Still, I had to refuse.”

Wolf nodded. “Janice likes having things her way.”

Luis looked up at him and grinned. “Most women do.”

Sarita had continued on to the front door to inform the men that dinner would be ready momentarily. “But most of us are tolerant and understand that you men have to have things your way once in a while,” she tossed back at her grandfather.

Wolf raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You? Understanding and tolerant?”

She frowned, as much at herself as at him. “I am most of the time.” She didn’t add except where you’re concerned, but the thought did flash through her mind.

“She’s telling the truth,” Luis said. “She’s got a good nature for a woman. Don’t know why you two could never get along. Right from the beginning, seems as if you declared war on each other. Sort of like you were born natural antagonists.”

“Makes it even more of a puzzle that she’d be stopping by my grave.”

Luis looked up at Sarita in surprise. “You’ve been stopping by Wolf’s grave?”

Hiding the surge of anger Wolf’s telling her grandfather about her early-morning visits caused, she gave a shrug of indifference. “I always go by Mom’s, Dad’s and Abuela’s to say good morning on my way to work. Figured since no one else would remember him, I would.” Not wanting to give either of the men a chance to continue this subject, Sarita added, “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen before my corn bread bums. Dinner will be on the table in five minutes.”

Luis frowned as the door swung closed behind her. “My granddaughter is a constant source of amazement.”

“I always thought she was just a hardheaded brat who grew up into a difficult woman.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, Wolf grimaced. “No insult intended. That’s just the way she used to act when I was around.”

“You did bring out the worst in her,” Luis conceded.

“I still do. We can’t seem to be in the same place for more than a few minutes without getting into an argument.” Wolf shook his head. “Doesn’t make any sense that she’d go stopping by my grave.”

“If you’re asking me to explain my granddaughter’s actions, you’re asking the wrong person. A long time ago I decided that it could drive a man insane to try to understand what makes a woman tick. So I just enjoy them when they’re happy and stay out of their way when they’re angry.”

Following those guidelines, I should made certain Sarita’s path and mine never cross, Wolf thought. And that might be the smart thing to do. He could find another place to stay. But he wanted to be near his land. Besides, he liked it here. He felt comfortable with Luis. The old man respected other people’s privacy. He never pried and didn’t offer unasked-for advice. As for Sarita, Wolf’s curiosity remained strong. “We’d best be getting into dinner,” he said.

A few minutes later as they sat eating, a question Wolf had avoided asking nagged at him. Of everything he’d left behind, only two things had remained strong in his mind. The first had been his half sister, Claudia. In spite of Katherine’s constant attempts to make certain her daughter did not form any bond with Wolf, he’d always felt protective toward his half sister and had wondered how she’d fared. Bradford had informed him that Claudia was attending a private, very exclusive girl’s school in Dallas. That she wasn’t under Katherine’s constant influence had been good news.

But he did not expect good news about the subject of his second concern and had avoided asking. Now he could avoid the question no longer. “I went by the stables earlier today. They look like they haven’t been used in years.”

“Your father got rid of the horses soon after you were declared dead,” Luis replied.

Wolf was hearing what he expected. Neither his father nor Katherine rode. For as long as Wolf could remember, Katherine had tried to get his father to close the stables and get rid of the animals, but Frank O’Malley had felt bound to his deathbed promise to Willow that he would maintain the stables and provide horses for Wolf to ride. That had only increased Katherine’s hatred of them. “What happened to Blue Thunder?”

“Since he was getting on in age and he wouldn’t let anyone but you ride him...”

Wolf shoved his chair away from the table, his appetite gone. “He had him put down, didn’t he?” he growled around the lump in his throat. “Katherine must have been pleased.” Before either Sarita or Luis could respond, he rose and strode out of the room.

Since returning to the kitchen, Sarita had begun recalling the man Wolf had been before he’d been in the crash. By twenty-two, he’d grown cold, harsh, cynical and distant. And although, for his sake, she was glad he hadn’t been enticed back into Janice’s arms, she was beginning to wonder if he was capable of caring about anything or anyone other than finding ways to antagonize Katherine.

Now she knew she was wrong. The man was capable of caring a great deal. The pain she’d seen in his eyes told her that. Racing after him, she caught up with him in the hall. Grabbing hold of his arm, she forced him to stop. “Blue Thunder didn’t get put down. Abuelo and I took him. He’s in the canyon enjoying his old age.” Feeling his shudder of relief, she realized she was still holding on to him. Releasing him, she was surprised when her hand continued to remain warm from the contact. Shoving both hands into the pockets of her jeans, she took a step back, putting distance between them. “And seeing that you’re back, you can reclaim him. But you don’t have to worry about moving him right away. He can stay in the canyon as long as you like.”

“You kept him?” he asked, finding this turn of events difficult to believe. “Luis was always complaining about his attitude, and Thunder bit you.”

“So he’s high-strung. A lot of horses are. My abuelo understands that. As for the bite, Thunder and I made peace after that.”

Seeing Luis approaching, Wolf’s gaze traveled between them. “I’m grateful the two of you didn’t let him be put down.”

“You’ve got Sarita to thank more than me,” Luis said from behind her. “Not that I like seeing any horse put down. But there’s expenses in keeping one. A man in my position has to be practical. But Sarita said she’d pay for any maintenance, and she made it clear my life would be hell if I didn’t let her have her way.”

Wolf’s gaze returned to Sarita. She was proving to be more complicated than a Chinese puzzle. “Why?”

Sarita shrugged. “I don’t know for sure,” she replied honestly. “I guess maybe I figured I did owe you and him thanks for finding me that day.” Not wanting to continue this discussion, she gestured toward the kitchen with a twist of her head. “I suggest we finish our dinner while it’s still hot”

Wolf smiled crookedly. “That’s as good a thank-you as anyone could deliver. And I will reimburse you for your expenses.”

Again experiencing a curious, uneasy curl deep within, Sarita frowned. “It doesn’t mean I forgive you for that endless lecture.”

Wolf shook his head. “You’re as prickly as barbed wire. Always have been and looks like you always will be.”

“Comes from being raised by two men,” Luis said, leading the way back to the kitchen. “She didn’t have anyone to teach her how to be soft and feminine.”

“I can be just as feminine as the next woman when I want to be,” Sarita snapped. Catching the skeptical look exchanged between the two men as they seated themselves at the table, she picked up her plate and glass. “I’m eating on the porch.”

Without a backward glance, she headed to the front door. Sitting in a rocking chair, her feet propped up on the rail, she glared out at the landscape as she ate. So maybe she didn’t know how to flirt as well as some, and she was no good at playing fragile and helpless—that didn’t make her any less of a woman.

She heard the screen door open, but refused to look to see who had come out.

“I’m sorry if I made you so angry that you weren’t comfortable sitting at your own table,” Wolf said, coming to stand where he could see her face. “Taking jabs at each other seems to come natural for us.”

She looked at him then. There was honest apology on his face. The frustration she’d been experiencing off and on all day bubbled to the surface. “I don’t know why it was so important to me to keep Blue Thunder or why I visited your grave. You’d think, considering our history, I wouldn’t have been affected by your passing. Maybe even thought ‘good riddance.’ Until today we’ve barely spoken since we were fourteen. So, maybe I did feel bad about not thanking you for finding me that day. As for Blue Thunder, I knew it was your stepmother who wanted him put down and I’ve never liked her.” But as she said this, deep down inside she knew that wasn’t true. She’d saved Blue Thunder because he had meant so much to Wolf. And another truth refused to remain ignored. She’d gone by Wolf’s grave because she’d missed him. It wasn’t rational but it was true.

Again Wolf noted that she didn’t appear happy about the obligations she’d felt toward him or Blue Thunder. But he owed her for keeping his horse alive, and maybe his crack about her femininity had been a little unfair. “As I recall, you don’t look so bad in a dress.”

Startled by this sudden change in subject, she stared at him in confusion as a slow curl of pleasure began to weave its way through her.

“Just my way of trying to make peace between us,” he said in answer to the question in her eyes.

The glow of pleasure died. His remark hadn’t been a compliment. It had been an appeasement. “Do you think that’s really possible?” she asked dryly.

“Could be that it’s not. Could be that your granddad’s right and we’re natural-born antagonists. But we could give a truce a try.” He held his hand out toward her. “Shake on it?”

She’d never enjoyed being at odds with him. The thought of making peace appealed to her. “My guess is that this will be an exercise in futility, but I’m always game for a challenge and this should be a big one.”

As his hand encased hers, his touch felt like fire, igniting concern. “Are you running a temperature?” she asked, setting her plate aside and rising so that she could press her free hand against his forehead. His temperature was normal. “I guess not.” Freed from the handshake and breaking the contact with his face, she frowned in confusion. “Your hand seemed so hot.”

“Could have been nerves. Us declaring a truce has got to have been a shock to your system,” he quipped.

“True,” she agreed, reseating herself and picking up her plate.

And mine, too, Wolf thought. Her touch on his forehead had felt incredibly soothing...an effect he’d never expected to experience from her. “Will you join your grandfather and me?”

“I’ll come in for dessert,” she replied, wanting a little more time on her own.

Figuring he’d done all he could to promote peace, Wolf nodded and headed to the door. But as he passed her chair, he had the most tremendous urge to give her pigtail a pull. Talk about residual childish urges, he mocked himself, recalling how in his youth he’d given in to that urge once and been rewarded with a punch in the stomach. I came to make peace not war, he reminded himself and continued inside.

“Sarita still mad at us?” Luis asked when Wolf entered the kitchen and again took his seat at the table.

“She’s agreed to a truce between me and her,” Wolf replied.

“Considering the way you two have bickered from the time you were tots, keeping that truce seems about as probable as a leopard changing its spots.”

So we’re all three in agreement on that point. A sour taste filled Wolf’s mouth, and he realized that he’d been hoping the truce would last. He was tired of the animosity between him and Sarita. Or maybe he was feeling a little desperate for allies. Mentally, he chastised himself. Katherine had taught him to stand alone. He didn’t need anyone but himself.

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