Dear Reader,

I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Mills & Boon Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.

But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.

I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Mills & Boon Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.

Thank you for this tribute, Mills & Boon, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.

Diana Palmer

DIANA PALMER

The prolific author of more than a hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com.

Circle of Gold

New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York Times and USA TODAY
Bestselling Author
Diana Palmer

The Essential Collection

Long, Tall Texans…and More!

AVAILABLE FEBRUARY 2011

Calhoun

Tyler

Ethan

Connal

Harden

Evan

AVAILABLE MARCH 2011

Donavan

Emmett

Regan’s Pride

That Burke Man

Circle of Gold

Cattleman’s Pride

AVAILABLE APRIL 2011

The Princess Bride

Coltrain’s Proposal

A Man of Means

Lionhearted

Maggie’s Dad

Rage of Passion

AVAILABLE MAY 2011

Lacy

Beloved

Love with a Long, Tall Texan

(containing “Guy,” “Luke” and “Christopher”)

Heart of Ice

Noelle

Fit for a King

The Rawhide Man

AVAILABLE JUNE 2011

A Long, Tall Texan Summer

(containing “Tom,” “Drew” and “Jobe”)

Nora

Dream’s End

Champagne Girl

Friends and Lovers

The Wedding in White

AVAILABLE JULY 2011

Heather’s Song

Snow Kisses

To Love and Cherish

Long, Tall and Tempted

(containing “Redbird,” “Paper Husband” and “Christmas Cowboy”)

The Australian

Darling Enemy

Trilby

AVAILABLE AUGUST 2011

Sweet Enemy

Soldier of Fortune

The Tender Stranger

Enamored

After the Music

The Patient Nurse

AVAILABLE SEPTEMBER 2011

The Case of the Mesmerizing Boss

The Case of the Confirmed Bachelor

The Case of the Missing Secretary

September Morning

Diamond Girl

Eye of the Tiger

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 1

Kasie Mayfield was excited. Her gray eyes were brimming with delight as she sat in the sprawling living room at the Double C Ranch in Medicine Ridge, Montana. There was a secretarial position available on the mammoth Double C, and she had the necessary qualifications. She was only twenty-two, but she had a certificate from secretarial school and plenty of initiative. Besides all that, the position was secretary to John Callister, the second son of the well-known family that headed not only a publishing empire in New York City, but a cattle empire out West.

There was a very interesting story about the ranch in a magazine that Kasie was reading while she waited her turn to be interviewed. The elder Callisters lived in New York, where they published, among others, a famous sports magazine. When they weren’t in the city, they lived in Jamaica on an ancestral estate. The Callister who had founded the American branch of the family had been a British duke. He bought an obscure little magazine in New York City in 1897 and turned it into a publishing conglomerate. One of his sons had emigrated to Montana and founded the ranch. It eventually passed to Douglas Callister, who had raised the boys, Gilbert and John. Nobody talked about why the uncle had been given custody of both boys and left them the ranch when he died. Presumably it was some dark family secret. Apparently there wasn’t a lot of contact between the boys and their parents.

Gilbert, the eldest at thirty-two, had been widowed three years ago. He had two young daughters, Bess, who was five, and Jenny, who was four. John had never married. He was a rodeo champion and did most of the traveling that accompanied showing the ranch’s prizewinning pedigree black Angus bulls. Gil was the power in the empire. He was something of a marketing genius, and he dealt with the export business and sat on the boards of two multinational corporations. But mostly he ran the ranch, all thirty thousand acres of it.

There was a photograph of him in the magazine, but she didn’t need it to know what he looked like. Kasie had gotten a glimpse of him on her way into the house to wait for her turn to be interviewed. One glimpse had been enough. It shocked her that a man who didn’t even know her should glare at her so intently.

A more conceited woman might have taken it for masculine interest. But Kasie had no ego. No, that tall, lanky blond man hadn’t liked her, and made no secret of it. His pale blue eyes under that heavy brow had pierced her skin. She wouldn’t get the job. He’d make sure of it.

She glanced at the woman next to her, a glorious blonde with big brown eyes and beautiful legs crossed under a thigh-high skirt. Then she looked at her own ankle-length blue jumper with a simple gray blouse that matched her big eyes. Her chestnut hair was in a long braid down her back. She wore only a little lipstick on her full, soft mouth, and no rouge at all on her cheeks. She had a rather ordinary oval face and a small, rounded chin, and she wore contact lenses. She wasn’t at all pretty. She had a nice figure, but she was shy and didn’t make the most of it. It was just as well that she had good office skills, she supposed, because it was highly unlikely that anybody would ever want to actually marry her. She thought of her parents and her brother and had to fight down tears. It was so soon. Too soon, probably. But the job might keep her from thinking of what had happened….

“Miss Mayfield!”

She jumped as her name was called in a deep, authoritative tone. “Yes?”

“Come in, please.”

She put a smile on her face as she clutched her small purse in her hands and walked into the paneled office, where plaques and photos of bulls lined the walls and burgundy leather furniture surrounded the big mahogany desk. A man was sitting there, with his pale eyes piercing and intent. A blond man with broad shoulders and a hard, lean face that seemed to be all rocky edges. It was not John Callister.

She stopped in front of the desk with her heart pounding and didn’t bother to sit down. Gil Callister was obviously doing the interviews, and now she was sure she wouldn’t get the job. She knew John Callister from the drugstore where she’d worked briefly as a stock clerk putting herself through secretarial courses. John had talked to her, teased her and even told her about the secretarial job. He’d have given her a chance. Gil would just shoot her out the door. It was obvious that he didn’t like anything about her.

He tossed a pen onto the desk and nodded toward the chair facing it. “Sit down.”

She felt vulnerable. The door was closed. Here she was with a hungry tiger, and no way out. But she sat anyway. Never let it be said that she lacked courage. They could throw her into the arena and she would die like a true Roman… She shook herself. She really had to stop reading the Plinys and Tacitus. This was the new millennium, not the first century A.D.

“Why do you want this job?” Gil asked bluntly.

Her thin eyebrows lifted. She hadn’t expected the question. “Because John is a dish?” she ventured dryly.

The answer seemed to surprise him. “Is he?”

“When I worked at the drugstore, he was always kind to me,” she said evasively. “He told me about the job, because he knew I was just finishing my secretarial certificate at the vocational-technical school. I got high grades, too.”

Gil pursed his lips. He still didn’t smile. He looked down at the résumé she’d handed him and read it carefully, as if he was looking for a deficiency he could use to deny her the job. His mouth made a thin line. “Very high grades,” he conceded with obvious reluctance. “This is accurate? You really can type 110 words a minute?”

She nodded. “I can type faster than I can take dictation, actually.”

He pushed the résumé aside and leaned back. “Boyfriends?”

She was nonplussed. Her fingers tightened on her purse. “Sir?”

“I want to know if you have any entanglements that might cause you to give up the job in the near future,” he persisted, and seemed oddly intent on the reply.

She shifted restlessly. “I’ve only ever had one real boyfriend, although he was more like a brother. He married my best friend two months ago. That was just before I moved to Billings,” she added, mentioning the nearby city, “to live with my aunt. So, I don’t date much.”

She was so uncomfortable that she almost squirmed. He didn’t know about her background, of course, or he wouldn’t need to ask such questions. Modern women were a lot more worldly than Kasie. But she’d said that John was a dish. She flushed. Good grief, did he think she went around seducing men or something? Was that why he didn’t want her in his house? Her expression was mortified.

He averted his eyes. “You have some odd character references,” he said after a minute, frowning at them. “A Catholic priest, a nun, a Texas Ranger and a self-made millionaire with alleged mob ties.”

She only smiled demurely. “I have unique friendships.”

“You could put it that way,” he said, diverted. “Is the millionaire your lover?”

She went scarlet and her jaw dropped.

“Oh, hell, never mind,” he said, apparently disturbed that he’d asked the question and uncomfortable at the reaction it drew. “That’s none of my business. All right, Kasie…” He hesitated. “Kasie. What’s it short for?”

“I don’t know,” she blurted out. “It’s my actual name.”

One eye narrowed. “The millionaire’s name is K.C.,” he pointed out. “And he’s at least forty.”

“Thirty-seven. He saved my mother’s life, while she was carrying me,” she said finally. “He wasn’t always a millionaire.”

“Yes, I know, he was a professional soldier, a mercenary.” His eyes narrowed even more. “Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really, no,” she confided.

He shook his head. “Well, if nothing else, you’ll be efficient. You’re also less of a distraction than the rest of them. There’s nothing I hate more than a woman who wears a skirt up to her briefs to work and then complains when men stare at her if she bends over. We have dress codes at our businesses and they’re enforced—for both sexes.”

“I don’t have any skirts that come up to my…well, I don’t wear short ones,” she blurted out.

“So I noticed,” he said with a deliberate glance at her long dress.

She fumbled with her purse while he went over the résumé one last time. “All right, Kasie, you can start Monday at eight-thirty. Did John tell you that the job requires you to live here?”

“No!”

His eyebrows arched. “Not in his room, of course,” he added just to irritate her, and then looked satisfied when she blushed. “Miss Parsons, who has charge of my daughters, lives in. So does Mrs. Charters who does the cooking and housekeeping. We have other part-time help that comes infrequently. Board and meals are provided by us, in addition to your salary.” He named a figure that made Kasie want to hold on to something. It was astronomical compared to what she’d made working at the drugstore part-time. “You’ll be a private secretary,” he added. “That means you may have to travel with us from time to time.”

“Travel?” Her face softened.

“Do you like to travel?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. I loved it when I was little.”

She wondered by the look he gave her if he assumed that her parents had been wealthy. He could not know, of course, that they were both deceased.

“Do you want the job?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“All right. I’ll tell the others they can leave.” He got to his feet, elegant and lithe, moving with a grace that was unequaled in Kasie’s circle of acquaintances. He opened the office door, thanked the other young women for coming and told them that the position had been filled. There was a shuffle of feet, some murmuring, and the front door closed.

“Come on, Kasie,” Gil said. “I’ll introduce you to…”

“Daddy!” came a wail from the end of the hall. A little girl with disheveled long blond hair came running and threw herself at Gil, sobbing.

He picked her up, and his whole demeanor changed. “What is it, baby?” he asked in the most tender tone Kasie had ever heard. “What’s wrong?”

“Me and Jenny was playing with our dollies on the deck and that bad dog came up on the porch and he tried to bite us!”

“Where’s Jenny?” he demanded, immediately threatening.

A sobbing little voice answered him as the younger girl came toddling down the hall rubbing her eyes with dirty little fists. She reached up to Gil, and he picked her up, too, oblivious to her soiled dress and hands.

“Nothing’s going to hurt my babies. Did the dog bite either of you?” Gil demanded.

“No, Daddy,” Bess said.

“Bad doggie!” Jenny sobbed. “Make him go away!”

“Of course I will!” Gil said roughly, kissing little cheeks with a tenderness that made Kasie’s heart ache.

A door opened and John Callister came down the hall, looking very unlike the friendly man Kasie knew from the drugstore. His pale eyes were glittering in his lean, dark face, and he looked murderous.

“Are they all right?” he asked Gil, pausing to touch the girls’ hair. “It was that mangy cur that Fred Sims insisted on bringing with him when he hired on. I got between it and the girls and it tried to bite me, too. I called Sims up to the house and told him to get rid of it and he won’t, so he’s fired.”

“Here.” Gil handed his girls to his brother and started down the hall with quick, measured steps.

John stared after him. “Maybe Sims will make it to his truck before Gil gets him,” he murmured. “But I wouldn’t bet on it. Are my babies all right?” he asked, kissing their little damp cheeks as the girls clung to either shoulder.

“Bad old doggie,” Bess sobbed. “Our Missie never bites people!”

“Missie’s a toy collie,” John explained to a silent Kasie with a smile. “She lives indoors. Nothing like that vicious dog Sims keeps. We’ve had trouble from it before, but Sims was so good with horses that we put up with it. Not anymore. We can’t let it endanger the girls.”

“If it would come right up on the porch and try to bite them, it doesn’t need to be around children,” Kasie agreed.

The girls looked at her curiously.

“Who are you?” Bess asked.

“I’m Kasie,” she replied with a smile. “Who are you?”

“I’m Bess,” the child replied. “That’s Jenny. She’s just four,” she added, indicating the smaller child, whose hair was medium-length and more light brown than blond.

“I’m very glad to meet you both,” Kasie said, smiling warmly. “I’m going to be Mr. Callister’s secretary,” she added with an apologetic glance at John. “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” John asked amusedly. “I only flog secretaries during full moons.”

Her eyes crinkled with merriment and she grinned.

“Gil won’t let me hire secretaries because I have such a bad track record,” John confessed. “The last one turned out to be a jewel thief. You, uh, don’t like jewels?” he added deliberately.

She chuckled. “Only costume jewelry. And unless you wear it, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

There was a commotion outside and John grimaced. “He’ll come back in bleeding, as usual,” he muttered. “I just glare at people. Gil hits.” He gave Kasie a wicked grin. “Sometimes he hits me, too.”

The girls giggled. “Oh, Uncle Johnny,” Bess teased, “Daddy never hits you! He won’t even hit us. He says little children shouldn’t be hitted.”

“Hit,” Kasie corrected absently.

“Hit,” Bess parroted, and grinned. “You’re nice.”

“You’re nice, too, precious,” Kasie said, reaching out to smooth back the disheveled hair. “You’ve got tangles.”

“Can you make my hair like yours?” Bess asked, eyeing Kasie’s braid. “And tie it with a pink ribbon?”

The opening of the back door stopped the conversation dead. Gil came back in with his shirt and jeans dusty and a cut at the corner of his mouth. As he came closer, wiping away the blood, his bruised and lacerated knuckles became visible.

“So much for that little problem,” he said with cold satisfaction. His eyes were still glittery with temper until he looked at the little girls. The anger drained out of him and he smiled. “Dirty chicks,” he chided. “Go get Miss Parsons to clean you up.”

John put them down and Bess looked up at her father accusingly. “Miss Parsons don’t like little kids.”

“Go on. If she gives you any trouble, come tell me,” Gil told the girls.

“Okay, Daddy!”

Bess took Jenny’s hand and, with a shy grin at Kasie, she drew the other child with her up the winding staircase.

“They like Kasie already,” John commented. “Bess said…”

“Miss Parsons takes care of the kids,” Gil said shortly. “Show Kasie the way we keep records. She’s a computer whiz in addition to her dictation skills. She should be able to get all those herd records onto diskettes for you. Then we can get rid of the paper clutter before we end up buried in it.”

“Okay,” John said. He hesitated. “Sims get off okay?”

“Sure,” Gil said easily. “No problem.” He wiped the blood away from his mouth with a wicked look at his brother before he turned and went up the staircase after the children.

John just shook his head. “Never mind. Come on, Kasie. Let’s get you started.”

Kasie moved into the house that weekend. Most of her parents’ things, and her own, were at Mama Luke’s, about ten miles away in Billings, Montana, to whom she’d come for refuge after losing her family. She had only the bare necessities of clothing and personal items; it barely filled one small suitcase. When she walked into the ranch house with it, Gil was on the porch with one of his men. He gave her a curious appraisal, dismissing the man.

“Where’s the rest of your stuff?” he asked, glancing past her at the small, white used car she drove, which she’d parked beside the big garage. “In the trunk?”

“This is all the stuff I have,” she said.

He looked stunned. “Surely you have furniture…?”

“My other things are at my aunt’s house. But I don’t have much stuff of my own.”

He stepped aside to let her go inside, his face curious and his eyes intent on her. He didn’t say a word, but he watched her even more closely from then on.

The first week on the job, she lost a file that Gil needed for a meeting he was flying to in the family Piper plane. It was an elegant aircraft, twin-engine and comfortable. Gil and John could both fly it and did, frequently, trucking the livestock they were showing from one state to the next with employees. Kasie wished she could go with the livestock, right now. Gil was eloquent about the missing file, his deep voice soft and filled with impatience.

“If you’ll just be quiet for a minute, Mr. Callister, I’ll find it!” she exclaimed finally, driven to insubordination.

He gave her a glare, but he shut up. She rustled through the folders on her desk with cold, nervous hands. But she did find the file. She extended it, sheepishly, grimacing at the look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” she added hopefully.

It didn’t do any good. His expression was somber and half-angry. His eyes glittered down at her. She thought absently that he looked very nice in a gray vested suit. It suited his fair hair and light eyes and his nice tan. It also emphasized the excellent fitness of his tall, muscular body. Kasie thought idly that he must have women practically stalking him when he went to dinner meetings. He was striking just to look at, in addition to that very masculine aura that clung to him like his expensive cologne.

“Where’s John?” he asked.

“He had a date,” she said. “I’m trying to cope with the new tax format.”

His eyes narrowed. “Surely they taught tax compilation at your school?”

She grimaced. “Well, actually, they didn’t. It’s a rather specialized skill.”

“Buy what you need from the bookstore or the computer store and have them send me the bill,” he said shortly. “If you can’t cope, tell me that, too.”

She didn’t dare. She wouldn’t have a job, and she had to support herself. She couldn’t expect Mama Luke to do it. “I can cope, sir,” she assured him.

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. “One thing more,” he added curtly. “My girls are Miss Parsons’s responsibility, not yours.”

“I only read them a story,” she began, blushing guiltily.

His eyebrows arched. “I was referring to the way you braided Bess’s hair,” he said. “I thought it was an isolated incident.”

She swallowed. Hardly isolated. The girls were always somewhere close by when Kasie stopped for lunch or her breaks. She shared her desserts with the children and frequently read to them or took them on walks to point out the various sorts of flowers and trees around the ranch house. Gil didn’t know that and she’d hoped the girls hadn’t said anything. Miss Parsons was curt and bullying with the children, whom she obviously disliked. It was inevitable that they’d turn to Kasie, who adored them.

“Only one story,” she lied.

He seethed. “In case you didn’t get the message the first time, Kasie, I am not in the market for a wife or a mother for my daughters.”

The insult made her furious. She glared up at him, forgetting all her early teachings about turning cheeks and humility. “I came to work here because I need a job,” she said icily. “I'm only twenty-two, Mr. Callister,” she added. “And I don’t have any interest in a man almost old enough to be my father, with a ready-made family to boot!”

His reaction was unexpected. He didn’t fire back. He grew very quiet. He turned and went out of the room without another word. A minute later, she heard the front door close and, soon, an engine fire up.

“So there,” she added to herself.

Gil came home from his trip even quieter than when he’d left. There was tension between him and Kasie, because she hadn’t forgotten the insulting remark he’d made to her before he left. As if she’d come to work here just so she could chase him. Really! But there was another complication now, as well. Kasie was a nervous wreck trying to keep him from seeing how much time she actually spent with his little girls. She didn't need to worry when he was off on his frequent business trips, but they suddenly stopped. He started sending Brad Dalton, his manager, to seminars and conferences. He stayed home on the pretext of overseeing massive improvements on the property.

It was just after roundup, when the cattle business was taking up a little less of his time. But there were new bunkhouses being built, as well as new wells being dug in the pastures and new equipment brought in for tagging and vaccinations of new calves. The trucks were being overhauled, along with the other farm machinery such as tractors and combines that harvested the grain crops. The barns were repaired, a new silo erected. It was a busy time.

Kasie found herself involved unexpectedly with Gil when John went out of state to show two new bulls at a pedigree competition and Gil’s secretary, Pauline Raines, conveniently sprained her thumb and couldn’t type.

“I need these yesterday,” he said without preamble, laying a thick sheaf of papers beside Kasie’s neat little hand on the desk. “Pauline can’t do them. She missed the tennis ball and hit her thumb with the tennis racket.”

She managed not to make a disparaging comment—barely. She didn’t like Pauline any more than Gil’s daughters did. The woman was lazy and seductive, and always hanging on Gil like a tie. What little work she actually did was of poor quality and she was pitifully slow as well. She worked at the ranch office near the front of the house three days a week, and Kasie had already inherited a good deal of her work. Pauline spent her time by the pool when Gil wasn’t watching. Now, Kasie thought miserably, she was going to end up doing not only John’s paperwork, including the unbelievably complex taxes that she was still struggling to understand, but Gil’s as well.

“I don’t guess she could type with her toes?” she murmured absently.

There was an odd sound, but when she looked up, Gil’s hard face was impassive. “How long will it take?” he persisted.

She looked at the pages. They weren’t data, as she’d first thought, but letters to various stock producers. They all had different headings, but the same basic body. “Is this all?” she asked with cool politeness.

He glowered at her. “There are fifty of them. They’ll have to be done individually…”

“No, they won’t,” she said gently. “All you have to do—” she opened a new file, selected the option she needed and began typing “—is type the body of the letter once and then just type the various addresses and combine them. An hour’s work.”

He looked as if he’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”

“This word processor does all that for you,” she explained. “It’s very simple, really.”

He looked angry. “I thought you had to type all fifty individually.”

“Only if you’re using a prehistoric typewriter and carbon system,” she pointed out.

He was really angry now. “An hour?” he repeated.

She nodded. “Maybe less. I’ll get right on it,” she added quickly, hoping to appease him. Heaven only knew what had set him off, but she recognized that glitter in his eyes.

He left her and went to make some phone calls. When he came back, Kasie was printing the letters out, having just finished the mailing labels. There was a folding machine that made short work of folding the letters. Then all she had to do was stuff, lick, stamp and mail the envelopes.

Gil put on the stamps for her. He watched her curiously. Once, when she looked up into his eyes, it was like an electric shock. Surprised, she dropped her gaze and blushed. Really, she thought, he had a strange effect on her.

“How do you like your job so far?” he asked.

“Very much,” she said. “Except for the taxes.”

“You’ll get used to doing them,” he assured her.

“I suppose so.”

“Can you manage John’s load and mine as well, or do you want me to get a temporary to help you?”

“There isn’t a lot,” she pointed out. “If I get overwhelmed, I’ll say so.”

He finished stamping the envelopes and stacked them neatly to one side. “You’re very honest. It’s unusual in most people.” He touched a stamp with a floral motif. “My wife was like that.” He smiled. “She said that lies were a waste of time, since they got found out anyway.” His eyes were far away. “We were in grammar school together. We always knew that we’d marry one day.” The smile faded into misery. “She was a wonderful rider. She rode in the rodeo when she was younger. But a gentle horse ran away with her and a low-lying limb ended her life. Jenny was only a year old when Darlene died. Bess was two. I thought my life was over, too.”

Kasie didn’t know what to say. It shocked her that a man like Gil would even discuss something so personal with a stranger. Of course, a lot of people discussed even more personal things with Kasie. Maybe she had that sort of face that attracted confidences.

“Do the girls look like her?” she asked daringly.

“Bess does. She was blond and blue-eyed. She wasn’t beautiful, but her smile was.” His eyes narrowed in painful memory. “They had to sedate me to make me let go of her. I wouldn’t believe them, even when they swore to me that no means on earth could save her…” His fingers clenched on top of the envelope and he moved his hand away at once and stood up. “Thanks, Kasie,” he said curtly, turning away, as if it embarrassed him to have spoken of his wife at all.

“Mr. Callister,” she said softly, waiting until he turned to continue. “I lost…some people three months ago. I understand grief.”

He hesitated. “How did they die?”

Her face closed up. “It was…an accident. They were only in their twenties. I thought they had years left.”

“Life is unpredictable,” he told her. “Sometimes unbearable. But everything passes. Even bad times.”

“Yes, that’s what everyone says,” she agreed.

They shared a long, quiet, puzzling exchange of sorrow before he shrugged and turned away, leaving her to her work.

Chapter 2

Kasie was almost tearing her hair out by the next afternoon. John’s mail was straightforward, mostly about show dates and cancellations, transportation for the animals and personal correspondence. Gil’s was something else.

Gil not only ran the ranch, but he dealt with the majority of the support companies that were its satellites. He knew all the managers by first names, he often spoke with state and federal officials, including well-known senators, on legislation affecting beef production. Besides that, he was involved in the scientific study of new grasses and earth-friendly pesticides and fertilizers. He worked with resource and conservation groups, even an animal rights group; since he didn’t run slaughter cattle and was rabidly proconservation, at least one group was happy to have his name on its board of directors. He was a powerhouse of energy, working from dawn until well after dark. The problem was, every single task he undertook was accompanied by a ton of paperwork. And his part-time secretary, Pauline Raines, was the most disorganized human being Kasie had ever encountered.

John came home late on Friday evening, and was surprised to find Kasie still at work in the study.

He scowled as he tossed his Stetson onto a rack. “What are you doing in here? It’s almost ten o’clock! Does Gil know you’re working this much overtime?”

She glanced up from the second page of ten that she was trying to type into the computer. None of Pauline’s paperwork had ever been keyed in.

She held up the sheaf of paperwork in six files with a sigh. “I think of it as job security,” she offered.

He moved around beside the desk and looked over what she was doing. “Good God, he’s not sane!” he muttered. “No one secretary could handle this load in a week! Is he trying to kill you?”

“Pauline hurt her thumb,” she said miserably. “I get to do her work, too, except that she never put any of the records into the computer. It’s got to be done. I don’t see how your brother ever found anything in here!”

“He didn’t,” John said dryly, his pale eyes twinkling. “Pauline made sure of it. She’s indispensable, I hear.”

Kasie’s eyes narrowed. “She won’t be for long, when I get this stuff keyed in,” she assured him.

“Don’t tell her that unless you pay up your life insurance first. Pauline is a girl who carries grudges, and she’s stuck on Gil.”

“I noticed.”

“Not that he cares,” John added slowly. “He never got over losing his wife. I’m not sure that he’ll ever remarry.”

“He told me.”

He glanced down at her. “Excuse me?”

“He told me specifically that he didn’t want a mother for the girls or a new wife, and not to get my hopes up.” She chuckled. “Good Lord, he must be all of thirty-two. I’m barely twenty-two. I don’t want a man I’ll have to push around in a wheelchair one day!”

“And I don’t rob cradles,” came a harsh, angry voice from the doorway.

They both jumped as they looked up to see Gil just coming in from the barn. He was still in work clothes, chaps and boots and a sweaty shirt, with a disreputable old black Stetson cocked over one eye.

“Are you trying to make Kasie quit, by any chance?” John challenged. “Good God, man, it’ll take her a week just to get a fraction of the information in these spreadsheets into the computer!”

Gil frowned. He pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his sweaty blond hair. “I didn’t actually look at it,” he confessed. “I’ve been too busy with the new bulls.”

“Well, you’d better look,” John said curtly.

Gil moved to the desk, aware of Kasie’s hostile glare. He peered over her shoulder and cursed sharply. “Where did all this come from?” he asked.

“Pauline brought it to me and said you wanted it converted to disk,” she replied flatly.

His eyes began to glitter. “I never told her to land you with all this!”

“It needs doing,” she confessed. “There’s no way you can do an accurate spreadsheet without the comparisons you could use in a computer program. I’ve reworked this spreadsheet program,” she said, indicating the screen, “and made an application that will work for cattle weight gain ratios and daily weighing, as well as diet and health and so forth.”

“I’m impressed,” Gil said honestly.

“It’s what I’m used to doing. Taxes aren’t,” she added sheepishly.

“Don’t look at me,” John said. “I hate taxes. I’m not learning them, either,” he added belligerently. “Half this ranch is mine, and on my half, we don’t do tax work.” He nodded curtly and walked out.

“Come back here, you coward!” Gil muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to cope with taxes and all the other routine headaches that you don’t have, because you’re off somewhere showing cattle!”

John just waved his hand and kept walking.

“Miss Parsons knows taxes inside out,” Kasie ventured. “She told me she used to be an accountant.”

He glared at her. “Miss Parsons was hired to take care of my daughters.” He kept looking at Kasie, and not in any friendly way. It was almost as if he knew…

She flushed. “They couldn’t get the little paper ship to float on the fish pond,” she murmured uneasily, not looking at him. “I only helped.”

“And fell in the pond.”

She grimaced. “I tripped. Anybody can trip!” she added in a challenging tone, her gray eyes flashing at him.

“Over their own feet?” he mused.

Actually it had been over Bess’s stuffed gorilla. The thing was almost her size and Kasie hadn’t realized it was there. The girls had laughed and then wailed, thinking she’d be angry at them. Miss Parsons had fussed for hours when Bess got dirt on her pretty yellow dress. But Kasie didn’t scold. She laughed, and the girls were so relieved, she could have cried. They really didn’t like Miss Parsons.

He put both hands on his lean hips and studied her with reluctant interest. “The girls tell me everything, Kasie,” he said finally. He didn’t add that the girls worshiped this quiet, studious young woman who didn’t even flirt with John, much less the cowboys who worked for the family. “I thought I’d made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want you around them.”

She took her hands off the keyboard and looked up at him with wounded eyes. “Why?”

The question surprised him. He scowled, trying to think up a fair answer. Nothing came to mind, which made him even madder.

“I don’t have any ulterior motives,” she said simply. “I like the girls very much, and they like me. I don’t understand why you don’t want me to associate with them. I don’t have a bad character. I’ve never been in trouble in my life.”

“I didn’t think you had,” he said angrily.

“Then why can’t I play with them?” she persisted. “Miss Parsons is turning them into little robots. She won’t let them play because they get dirty, and she won’t play with them because it isn’t dignified. They’re miserable.”

“Discipline is a necessary part of childhood,” he said curtly. “You spoil them.”

“For heaven’s sake, somebody needs to! You’re never here,” she added shortly.

“Stop right there, while you still have a job,” he interrupted, and his eyes made threats. “Nobody tells me how to raise my kids. Especially not some frumpy little backwoods secretary!”

Frumpy? Backwoods? Her eyes widened. She stood up. She was probably already fired, so he could just get it from the hip. “I may be frumpy,” she admitted, “and I may be from the backwoods, but I know a lot about little kids! You don’t stick them in a closet until they’re legal age. They need to be challenged, made curious about the world around them. They need nurturing. Miss Parsons isn’t going to nurture them, and Mrs. Charters doesn’t have time to. And you aren’t ever here at bedtime, even if you’re not away on business,” she repeated bluntly. “Whole weeks go by when you barely have time to tell them good-night. They need to be read to, so they will learn to love books. They need constructive supervision. What they’ve got is barbed wire and silence.”

His fists clenched by his sides, and his expression darkened. She lifted her chin, daring him to do anything.

“You’re an expert on children, I guess?” he chided.

“I took care of one,” she said, her eyes darkening. “For several months.”

“Why did you quit?”

He was assuming that she’d meant a job. She didn’t. The answer to his question was a nightmare. She couldn’t bear to remember it. “I wasn’t suited to the task,” she said primly. “But I won’t corrupt your little girls by speaking to them.”

He was still glowering. He didn’t want Kasie to grow close to the girls. He didn’t want her any closer to him than a desk and a computer was. His eyes went involuntarily to the desk piled high with Pauline’s undone work. The files were supposed to have been converted to computer months earlier, when he’d hired the woman. He’d assumed that it had been done, because she was always ready with the information he needed. He felt suddenly uneasy.

“Check out Black Ribbon’s growth information for me,” he said suddenly.

She hesitated, but apparently she was still working for him. She sat down and pulled the information up on the computer. He went to his desk and pulled a spreadsheet from a drawer. He brought it to Kasie and had her compare it with the figures she’d just put into the computer. There was a huge difference, to his favor.

He said a word that caused Kasie’s face to grow bright red. That disturbed him, but he didn’t allude to it. “I’ve made modifications to improve what seemed like a deficiency in diet. Now it looks as if it wasn’t even necessary. How long will it take you to get the breeding herd information transcribed?”

“Well, I’ve done about a third of it,” she said. “But John has letters and information to be compiled for this new show…”

“You’re mine until we get this information on the computer. I’ll make it all right with John.”

“What about Pauline?” she asked worriedly.

“Pauline is my concern, not yours,” he told her.

“Okay, boss. Whatever you say.”

He made an odd gesture with one shoulder and gave her a long scrutiny. “I told you to let me know if there was too much work. Why didn’t you?”

“I thought I could keep up,” she said simply. “I wouldn’t have complained as long as I could do it within a couple of weeks, and I can.”

“Working fourteen-hour shifts,” he chided.

“Well, work is work,” she said. “I don’t mind. It’s not as if I have an active social life or an earthshaking novel to write or anything. And I get paid a duke’s ransom as it is.”

He frowned. “Why don’t you have a social life?”

“Because cowboys stink,” she shot right back.

He started to speak, burst out laughing and walked to the door. “Stop that and go to bed. I’ll have you some help by morning. Good night, Kasie.”

“Good night, Mr. Callister.”

He hesitated, turned, studied her, but he didn’t speak. He left her tidying up and went upstairs to change out of his work clothes and have a shower.

The next morning, when she went into the office, Pauline was there and so was Gil. They stopped talking when Kasie walked in, so she assumed that they’d been talking about her. Apparently it hadn’t been in a friendly way. Pauline’s delicate features were drawn in anger and Gil’s eyes were narrow and glittery.

“It’s about time you got down here!” Pauline said icily.

“It’s eight twenty-five,” Kasie said, taken aback. “I’m not supposed to be in here until eight-thirty.”

“Well, let’s get started, then,” Pauline said, flopping down at the computer.

“Doing what, exactly?” Kasie asked, disconcerted.

“Teach her how to put information on the computer,” Gil said in a voice that didn’t invite argument. “And while she’s doing that, you can tackle John’s work.”

Kasie grimaced. Her pupil didn’t look eager or willing. It was going to be a long morning.

It was, too. Pauline made the job twice as tedious, questioning every keystroke twice and grumbling—when Gil was out of the office—about having to work with Kasie.

“Look, this wasn’t my idea,” Kasie assured her. “I could do it myself if Mr. Callister would just let me.”

Pauline didn’t soften an inch. “You’re trying to get his attention, playing up to those kids,” she accused. “You want him.”

Kasie just looked at her. “I love children,” she said quietly. “But I don’t want to get married.”

“Who said anything about marriage?” Pauline chided.

Kasie averted her eyes. “I needed a job and John needed a secretary,” she murmured as she turned a spreadsheet page.

“Funny. You call him John, but Gil is ‘Mr. Callister.’ Why?”

The younger woman blinked. “John is just a few years older than I am,” she replied.

Pauline frowned. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

There was a long pause. “Well!” she said finally. She pursed her lips and entered a number into the computer. “You think Gil is old, do you?”

“Yes.” She didn’t, really, but it seemed safer to say so. She did, after all, have to work with this perfumed barracuda for the immediate future.

Pauline actually smiled. But only for a minute. “What do I do now?” she asked when she finished entering the last number.

Kasie showed her, faintly disturbed by that smile. Oh, well, she’d figure it out later, maybe.

Pauline went home at five o’clock. By now, she had a good idea of how to use the computer. Practice would hone her skills. Kasie wondered why Gil, who had the lion’s share of the work, only had a part-time secretary.

When he came back in, late Saturday night, dressed in evening clothes with a black tie and white ruffled shirt, Kasie was still in the office finalizing the spreadsheets. She looked up, surprised at how handsome he was dressed like that. Even if he wasn’t really good-looking, he had a natural authority and grace of carriage that made him stand out. Not to mention a physique that many a Hollywood actor would have coveted.

“I thought I told you to give up this night work,” he said curtly.

She spared him a glance while she saved the information onto a diskette. “You won’t let me play with the girls. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Watch television. We have all the latest movies on pay-per-view. You can watch any you like. Read a book. Take up knitting. Learn Dutch. But,” he added with unnatural resentment, “stay out of the office after supper.”

“Is that an order?” she asked.

“It damned well is!”

He was absolutely bristling, she thought, frowning as she searched his pale blue eyes. She closed the files and shut down the program, uneasy because he was glowering at her.

She got up, neat and businesslike in her beige pantsuit, with her chestnut hair nicely braided and hanging down her back.

But when she went around the desk to go to the door, he blocked her path. She wasn’t used to men this close and she backed up a step, which only made things worse. He was so tall that she wished she were wearing high heels. The top of her head barely came up to his nose.

His pale eyes glittered even more. “Old age isn’t contagious,” he said with pure venom in his deep voice.

“Sir?”

“And don’t call me sir!”

She swallowed. He was spoiling for a fight. She couldn’t bear the thought of one. Her early life had been in the middle of a violent battleground, and loud noises and voices still upset her. “Okay,” she agreed immediately.

He slammed his hands into his pockets and glared more. “I’m thirty-two. Ten years isn’t a generation and I’m not a candidate for Social Security.”

“Okay,” she repeated uneasily.

“For God’s sake, stop agreeing with me!” he snapped.

She started to say “Okay” again, and bit her tongue. She was as rigid as a ruler, waiting for more explosions with her breath trapped in her throat.

He took his hands out of his pockets and they clenched at his sides as he looked down at her with more conflicting emotions than he’d ever felt. She wasn’t beautiful, but there was a tenderness in her that he craved. He hadn’t had tenderness in his life since Darlene’s untimely death. This young woman made him hungry for things he couldn’t grasp. He didn’t understand it, and it angered him.

Kasie was wavering between a dash for the door or backing up again. “Do you want me to quit?” she blurted out.

His teeth ground together. “Yes.”

She swallowed. “All right. I’ll leave in the morning.” She moved around him to the door, trying not to take it personally. Sometimes people just didn’t like other people.

“No!”

His voice stopped her with her hand on the doorknob.

There was a long pause. Kasie turned, surprised by his indecision. From what she already knew of Gil Callister, he wasn’t a man who had trouble making decisions. But he seemed divided about Kasie.

She went toward him, noticing the odd expression on his face when she stopped within arm’s length and folded her hands at her waist.

“I know you don’t like me,” she said gently. “It’s all right. I’ll really try hard to stay away from the girls. Once Pauline learns how to input the computer files, you won’t even have to see me.”

He seemed troubled now. Genuinely troubled. He sighed as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. At that moment, he looked as if he needed comforting.

“Bess would love it if you took her and Jenny to one of those cartoon movies,” she said out of the blue. “There’s a Sunday matinee at the Twin Oaks Cinema.”

He still didn’t speak.

She searched his cold eyes. “I’m sorry that I’ve gone behind your back to spend time with them. It’s not what you think. I mean, I’m not trying to worm my way into your family, even if Pauline does think so. The girls…remind me…of my own little niece.” Her voice almost broke but she controlled it quickly.

“Does she live far away?” he asked abruptly.

Her eyes darkened. “Very…far away…now,” she managed. She forced a smile. “I miss her.”

She had to turn away then, or lose control of her wild emotions.

“You can stay for the time being,” he said finally, reluctantly. “It will work out.”

“That’s what my aunt always says,” she murmured as she opened the door.

“I didn’t know you had family. Your parents are dead, aren’t they?”

“They died years ago, when I was little. My aunt was in charge of us until we started school.”

“Us?”

She couldn’t say it, she couldn’t, she couldn’t. “I ha…have a twin brother,” she corrected quickly.

She lifted her head, praying for strength. “Good night, Mr. Callister.”

She heard the silence of his disapproval, but she was too upset to care. She went up the staircase with no hesitation at all, straight to her room. She locked the door and lay down on the covers, crying silently so that no one would hear.

There was a violent storm that night. The lightning lit up the whole sky. Kasie heard engines starting up and men’s voices yelling. The animals must be unsettled. She’d read that cattle didn’t like lightning.

She got up to look out the window, and then she heard the urgent knocking at her door.

She went to it, still in her neat thick white cotton gown that concealed the soft lines of her body. Her hair was loose down her back, disheveled, and she was barely awake.

She opened the door, and looked down. There were Bess and Jenny with tears streaming down their faces. Bess was clutching a small teddy bear, and Jenny had her blanket.

“Oh, my babies, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, going down on her knees to pull them close and cuddle them.

“The sky’s making an awful noise, Kasie, and we’re scared,” Bess said.

She threw caution to the winds. She was already in so much trouble, surely a little more wouldn’t matter.

“Do you want to climb in with me?” she asked softly.

“Can we?” Bess asked.

“Of course. Come on.”

They climbed into bed with her and under the covers, Jenny on one side and Bess on the other.

“Want a story,” Jenny murmured.

“Me, too,” Bess seconded.

“Okay. How about the three bears?”

“No, Kasie, that’s scary,” Bess said. “How about the mouse and the lion?”

“Aren’t you scared of lions?” she asked the girls.

“We like lions,” Bess told her contentedly, cuddling closer. “Daddy took us to the zoo and we saw lions and tigers and polar bears!”

“The lion it is, then.”

And she proceeded to tell them drowsily about the mouse who took out the thorn in the lion’s paw and made a friend for life. By the time she finished, they were both asleep. She kissed their pretty little sleeping faces and folded them close to her as the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled. She wondered just before she fell asleep how much trouble she’d be in if their father came home and found them with her, after she’d just promised not to play with them. If only, she thought, Gilbert Callister would get a thorn in his paw and she could pull it out and make friends with him….

It was almost two in the morning when Gil and John got back from the holding pens. There had been a stampede, and two hundred head of cattle broke through their fences and spilled out into the pasture that fronted on a highway. The brothers and every hand on the place were occupied for three hours working in the violent storm to round them up and get them back into the right pasture and fix the fence. It helped that the lightning finally stopped, and in its wake came a nice steady rain. But everyone was soaked by the time they finished, and eager for a warm, dry bed.

Gil stripped off his wet clothes and took a shower, wrapping a long burgundy silk robe around his tall body before he went to check on the girls. He opened the door to the big room they shared and his heart skipped a beat when he realized they were missing.

Where in hell was Miss Parsons and where were his children? He went along to her room and almost knocked at the door, when he realized suddenly where the girls were most likely to be.

With his lips making a thin line, he went along the corridor barefoot to Kasie’s room. Without knocking, he opened the door and walked in. Sure enough, curled up as close as they could get to her, were Bess and Jenny.

He started to wake them up and insist that they go back to bed, when he saw the way they looked.

It had been a long time since he’d seen their little faces so content. Without a mother—despite the housekeeper and Miss Parsons—they were sad so much of the time. But when they were around Kasie, they changed. They smiled. They laughed. They played. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them so happy. Was it fair to deny them Kasie’s company just because he didn’t like her? On the other hand, was it wise to let them get so attached to her when she might quit or he might fire her?

The question worried him. As he pondered the situation, Kasie moved and the cover fell away from her sleeping form. He moved closer to the bed in the dim light from the security lights outside, and abruptly he realized that she was wearing the sort of gown a dowager might. It was strictly for utility, plain and white, with no ruffles or lace or even a fancy border. He scowled. Kasie was twenty-two. Was it normal for a woman her age to be so repressed that she covered herself from head to toe even in sleep?

She moved again, restlessly, and a single word broke from her lips as the nightmare came again.

“Kantor,” she whispered. “Kantor!”

Chapter 3

Without thinking, Gil reached down and shook Kasie’s shoulder. “Wake up, Kasie!” he said firmly.

Her eyes opened on a rush of breath. There was horror in them for a few seconds until she came awake and realized that her boss was standing over her. She blinked away the sleepiness and pulled herself up on an elbow. Her beautiful thick chestnut hair swirled around her shoulders below the high neck of the gown as she stared at him.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said curtly. “Who’s Kantor?”

She hesitated for a few seconds. “My brother,” she said finally. “My twin.” She noticed that he was wearing a long robe and apparently nothing under it. Thick dark blond hair was visible in the deep vee of the neckline. She averted her eyes almost in panic. It embarrassed her to have him see her in her nightgown; almost as much as to see him in a robe.

“Why do you have nightmares about him?” he asked gently.

“We had an argument,” she said. She pushed back her hair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His eyes narrowed. Apparently it was a painful subject. He let it drop. His eyes went to the girls and not without misgiving. “Why are they in here with you?”

“The storm woke them up. They got scared and came to me,” she said defensively. “I didn’t go get them.”

He was studying them quietly. His expression was hard, grave, wounded.

“I’m sure they went to look for you first,” she began defensively.

His eyes glittered down into hers. “We’ve had this conversation before. Miss Parsons is supposed to be their governness,” he emphasized.

“Miss Parsons is probably snoring her head off,” she said curtly. “She sleeps like the dead. Bess had a fever week before last, and she didn’t even get up when I woke her and told her about it. She said that a fever never hurt anybody!”

“That was when she had strep and I took her to the doctor,” he recalled. “Miss Parsons said she was sick. I assumed that she’d been up in the night with her.”

“Dream on.”

He glared at her. “I’ll excuse it this time,” he said, ignoring the reference he didn’t like to Miss Parsons and her treatment of Bess. He’d have something to say to the woman about that. “Next time, come and find me if you can’t wake Miss Parsons.”

She just stared back, silent.

“Did you hear me, Kasie?” he demanded softly.

“All right.” She glanced from one side of her to the other. “Do you want to wake them up and carry them back to their own beds?”

He looked furious. “If I do, we’ll all be awake the rest of the night. We had cattle get out, and we got soaked trying to get them back in. I’m worn-out. I want to go to sleep.”

“Nobody here is stopping you,” she murmured.

His pale eyes narrowed. “I should have let you go when you offered to resign,” he said caustically.

“There’s still time,” she pointed out, growing more angry by the minute.

He cursed under his breath, glared at her again and walked out.

The next morning, Kasie woke to soft pummeling little hands and laughing voices.

“Get up, Kasie, get up! Daddy’s taking us to the movies today!”

She yawned and curled up. “Not me,” she murmured sleepily. “Go get breakfast, babies. Mrs. Charters will feed you.”

“You got to come, too!” Bess said.

“I want to sleep,” she murmured.

“Daddy, she won’t get up!” Bess wailed.

“Oh, yes, she will.”

Kasie barely had time to register the deep voice before the covers were torn away and she was lifted bodily out of the bed in a pair of very strong arms.

Shocked, she stared straight into pale blue eyes and felt as if she’d been electrified.

“I’ll wake her up,” Gil told the girls. “Go down and eat your breakfast.”

“Okay, Daddy!”

The girls left gleefully, laughing as they went to the staircase.

“You look like a nun in that gown,” Gil remarked as he studied his light burden, aware of her sudden stillness. Her face was very close. He searched it quietly. “And you’ve got freckles, Kasie, just across the bridge of your nose.”

“Put…put me down,” she said, unnerved by the proximity. She didn’t like the sensations it caused to feel his chest right against her bare breasts.

“Why?” he asked. He gazed into her eyes. “You hardly weigh anything.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her face thoroughly. “You have big eyes,” he murmured. “With little flecks of blue in them. Your face looks more round than oval, especially with your hair down. Your mouth is—” he searched for a word, more touched than he wanted to be by its vulnerability “—full and soft. Half-asleep you don’t come across as a fighter. But you are, aren’t you?”

Her hands were resting lightly around his neck and she stared at him disconcertedly while she wondered what John or Miss Parsons would say if they walked in unexpectedly to find them in this position.

“You should put me down,” she said huskily.

“Don’t you like being carried?” he murmured absently.

She shivered as she remembered the last time she’d been carried, by an orderly in the hospital…

She pushed at him. “Please.”

He set her back down, scowling curiously at the odd pastiness of her complexion. “You’re mysterious, Kasie.”

“Not really. I’m just sleepy.” She folded her arms over her breasts and flushed. “Could you leave, please, and let me get dressed?”

He watched her curiously. “Why don’t you date? And don’t hand me any bull about stinking cowboys.”

She was reluctant to tell him anything about herself. She was a private person. Her aunt, Mama Luke, always said that people shouldn’t worry others with their personal problems. She didn’t.

“I don’t want to get married, ever.”

He really scowled then. “Why?”

She thought of her parents and then of Kantor, and her eyes closed on the pain. “Love hurts too much.”

He didn’t speak. For an instant, he felt the pain that seemed to rack her delicate features, and he understood it, all too well.

“You loved someone who died,” he recalled.

She nodded and her eyes met his. “And so did you.”

For an instant, his hard face was completely unguarded. He was vulnerable, mortal, wounded. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t pass away, like they say, does it?” she asked softly.

“Not for a long time.”

He moved a step closer, and this time she didn’t back up. Her eyes lifted to his. He slid his big, lean hand into the thick waves of her chestnut hair and enjoyed its silkiness. “Why don’t you wear your hair down, like this?”

“It’s sinful,” she whispered.

“What?”

“When you dress and wear your hair in a way that’s meant to tempt men, to try to seduce them, it’s sinful,” she repeated.

His lips fell open. He didn’t know how to answer that. He’d never had a woman, especially a modern woman, say such a thing to him.

“Do you think sex is a sin?” he asked.

“Outside of marriage, it is,” she replied simply.

“You don’t move with the times, do you?” he asked on an expulsion of breath.

“No,” she replied.

He started smiling and couldn’t stop. “Oh, boy.”

“The girls will be waiting. Are you really taking them to a movie?” she asked.

“Yes.” One eye narrowed. “I need to take you to one, too. Something X-rated.”

She flushed. “Get out of here and stop trying to corrupt me.”

“You’re overdue.”

“Stop or I’ll have Mama Luke come over and lecture you.”

He frowned. “Mama Luke?”

“My aunt.”

“What an odd name.”

She shrugged. “Our whole family runs to odd names.”

“I noticed.”

She made a face. “I work for you. My private life is my own business.”

“You don’t have a private life,” he said, and smiled tenderly.

“I’m a great reader. I love Plutarch and Tacitus and Arrian.”

“Good God!”

“There’s nothing wrong with ancient history. Things were just as bad then as they are now. All the ancient writers said that the younger generation was headed straight to purgatory and the world was corrupt.”

“Arrian didn’t.”

“Arrian wrote about Alexander the Great,” she reminded him. “Alexander’s world was in fairly good shape, apparently.”

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