"We went in and out of Paradise all the time in the early seventies. My father even worked now and then at some of the farms. As soon as he got a little cash, we hit the road to find a new game." He ran a hand through his hair, looked at the restaurant, then back to her. "I need some time to think, but in the meantime, are you hungry?"

"Starved," she admitted.

"Rico's Pizza is nearby. It's not fancy, but it's good. What do you say?"

"I say extra large with pineapple and ham."

His tense face eased into a reluctant smile. "This is Kentucky, darlin', no pineapples within a hundred miles." He opened the door to his truck. "But I think we can find something you like."

Katherine adjusted her seat belt as Zach climbed into the truck. She smoothed down her dress, which had crept up over her legs, then turned to lock the door.

Zach sent her an amused look. "You can lock that door, Kat, but I've got news for you. Looking the way you do tonight, smelling the way you smell, you're in far more danger from me than anyone on the street."

She caught her breath at the shimmer of desire in his eyes. "I-I don't know what to say."

"Well, that's a first," he said with a laugh as he gunned the engine.

Katherine struggled for a witty, s.e.xy reply, but nothing came to mind, so she settled for what she hoped was cool silence. A few minutes later they arrived at the restaurant.

Rico's was small, with green and white checkered tablecloths, dimly lit lamps, and a jukebox playing in the corner. It was a warm, friendly restaurant, and Katherine felt immediately more relaxed.

"This is nice," she said.

"Probably not what you're used to."

She inwardly sighed, wondering if she'd ever convince him that style and money had never mattered to her. If they had, she would have stayed in California.

Zach led her over to a corner booth. "I'll order the pizza," he said as she sat down. "What do you like?"

"Oh, just get whatever you want. I'll eat anything."

"Fine."

"Except anchovies," she said hastily.

"Got it." He turned to leave.

"And olives. I'm not big on black olives. Maybe no green peppers either."

He flung her an amused glance. "What about onions?"

Katherine hesitated. "Really, whatever you want, but maybe not onions."

"Pepperoni?"

"Perfect."

"A dangerous pizza for a dangerous woman," he said with a laugh, then went to place their order.

Katherine made a face at his back. So maybe she wasn't a risk taker with pizza. She'd gotten herself all the way to Kentucky and was having dinner with the s.e.xiest man on the face of the planet. If that wasn't living on the edge, she didn't know what was.

Zach returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of soda and two gla.s.ses. "I didn't figure you for the beer type."

"You never know," she said, even though she absolutely hated beer.

He slid into the booth, edging over until his thigh touched her leg. "Now, this is nice," he said, his voice low and husky. "Very nice."

She cleared her throat. "What's in the back room?"

"A pool table."

"Do you play?"

"Yes."

"Would you play with me?"

He gave her another slow, s.e.xy grin. "Honey, there are things I'd like to play with you, but pool isn't one of them."

"Well, pool is your only option," she said, sliding out of the booth before she melted into a big puddle of desire at Zach Tyler's feet. When he put his mind to charming a woman, he was almost irresistible.

Zach followed her into the back room where a pool table rested in the center, with pinball machines and video games along the walls. Several kids were playing the arcade games, but the pool table was empty.

"Okay, here's what you do," Zach said. "You want to hit the white ball with your cue. That's the stick you use. You knock the white ball against the other b.a.l.l.s so they roll into the pockets. But you don't want to hit the black one, not until the end."

She listened to his explanation with a growing smile. "That sounds complicated."

"We don't have to play."

"No, I want to."

"Something else new to try, huh? Well, I suppose it's all part of the slumming experience."

Katherine took a cue stick off the wall. "This is what I use to hit the white ball?"

"That's right. Now, let me show you how to hold it."

Zach came up behind her, his hard body against her back making it difficult to concentrate. He put his hands over her hands, showing her how to hold the stick, how to tap the ball.

"I think I can do it," she said. "Why don't we make a bet?"

He sent her a doubtful look. "Why don't we see if you can hit one ball into the pocket?"

"But it would be more fun with a bet. Tell you what. If you win, I'll give you a really good kiss."

"Keep talking."

"And if I win, you'll teach me how to ride a horse."

His laugh was more of a snort. "Yeah, right. Sure, why not? You're never going to beat me."

"Is it a bet?"

"Pucker up, sweetheart."

She pushed him away from her. "Give me a little room, okay?"

"Fine." He racked up the b.a.l.l.s, then stepped back. "Now, don't forget you're hitting the white ball."

"I won't forget."

Katherine ran her fingers down the smooth wooden cue, the familiarity renewing her confidence. She couldn't wait to wipe that c.o.c.ky, know-it-all expression off Zach Tyler's face. She set the cue on the table and with quiet deliberation took her first shot, scattering the b.a.l.l.s across the table. She considered her options and set up one shot after another, dropping the b.a.l.l.s into the slots with the same efficiency of a deadly hit man.

She never once looked at Zach, but she could sense when his smile started to fade, when the air grew tense, when his sudden throat clearing contained a hint of nervousness. She'd never played such a clean game. And when she was done she stood back and admired her handiwork. Then she glanced over at Zach.

He wasn't smiling. "You hustled me."

"You deserved it."

"I haven't been taken in a very long time."

"When you look at me, you see what you want to see, but you don't see me." She walked over to him, stopping just a breath away. "Too bad you lost. If you hadn't, I might be kissing you right now."

He struggled with a smile. "You're a piece of work, Katherine Whitfield."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Where did you learn to play pool?"

"My stepfather had a pool table. Billiards was his favorite game. And I was, as always, the stepdaughter who was eager to please."

"Billiards." Zach nodded, his expression filled with self-disgust. "Should have figured that, a rich girl like you."

"If I wanted to live like a rich girl, as you like to call me, do you really think I'd be here-with you?"

"You might be taking a walk on the wild side. But that doesn't mean you're planning to stay."

"I don't know what I'm planning. Stop trying to second-guess me." She paused. "So when are you going to teach me to ride?"

"We'll discuss your riding lessons later," Zach said hastily.

"A bet's a bet."

"Hey, Zach," a man said from the doorway. "Pizza's ready. I put it on your table."

"You're not going to get out of it," Katherine said, following him back to their table. Actually, she wasn't all that sure she wanted to ride. In fact, if she'd stopped to consider the pros and cons, she might not have made such a bet. But there had been no time to make a list. Oh, well, Zach would probably try to get out of it anyway, she told herself.

She stopped worrying about her upcoming riding lesson as soon as she got to the table. The pizza was hot and she was hungry. They ate quietly for the next few minutes, listening to the music, enjoying the soft murmur of conversation. Katherine hadn't felt so comfortable in a long time.

She sat quietly for another minute, hating to break the accord that had grown between them, but there were things she needed to know about Zach's father so she could be prepared. "Zach-"

"Don't," he interrupted.

"I need to know more about your father."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think he's done with me yet. Do you?"

Zach took a long draft of his beer, then set the gla.s.s down on the table. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

She leaned forward, hating the way his face had grown hard, his eyes had turned bitter. "You're not responsible for his actions. You're his son, not his gatekeeper."

Zach leaned back against the seat. "I used to be his gatekeeper."

"How so?"

"When I was a kid, Jackson took me with him wherever he went. We slept in motels, in the backs of cars, on the streets. We even slept in a rail car once. For a while it was a wild adventure. Me and my pop against the world." He paused. "When my dad made money at the track or whatever game he was running, I was the one who held on to it, stuffing it in my socks or whatever hiding place I could find. I didn't realize then that my father was more dangerous than any thief in an alley. The only person who ever stole from me was him."

Katherine put a hand on his arm, relieved when he didn't immediately shake it off. "He was your father, and you were a little boy. I'm surprised you learned the difference between right and wrong, growing up the way you did."

"It took time." Zach gazed unseeingly at the tabletop. "Pop had a big run through Paradise. Talked half the town into investing in a business scheme. I was sixteen then and working part-time at Stanton Farms. When he came to get me after he'd made his run, I told him I wasn't going with him. He said he wouldn't leave me behind unless I could make it worth his while."

"By doing what?" Katherine rubbed her fingers against his arm, wishing she could relieve some of the tension in his tight body.

Zach hesitated, clearly battling with himself over something. "He wanted me to take Mrs. Stanton's wedding ring. She had a habit of leaving it in the barn when she gave her favorite horse a bath. So one day I saw my opportunity and I took it. I sold her wedding ring for my life. She cried for a week."

"Oh, Zach."

"Don't feel sorry for me. I was a thief."

"You were a scared teenager. I know that doesn't excuse what you did, but I am sorry that you had to make a choice like that."

"It wasn't that hard to make." His gaze burned into hers. "I knew then I wasn't much different from my father."

"There is a world of difference between you."

"A thief is a thief, no matter what the intentions behind the theft."

"Have you ever thought of telling Mrs. Stanton?"

Zach uttered a cynical laugh. "A million times. But..."

"But what?"

"About ten years ago, I saved up enough money to buy Mrs. Stanton a ring to match the one she'd lost. I had one of the grooms accidentally discover it and return it to her."

"And she was none the wiser?"