"He, um-" Bethany tried to think of a delicate way of putting it. "He's building bars."

"Bars?"

"For the bathroom."

She saw it click. He pushed away from the door, tapping his hat against his thigh. "Well, I guess I'll mosey over that way." He inclined his dark head. "Good meeting you. Maggie says you may come out for a visit. She gets lonely for female company, living so far from town, so I hope you'll do that soon."

"I'm looking forward to it."

He opened the door, started to step out, and then stopped. "I guess I won't mosey, after all. Here comes Ryan now." Bethany heard male voices and boots crunching on the snow, along with what sounded like a snowmobile coming toward the house.

"Hey, Mom and Dad," she heard Ryan say. "What brings you over this way?"

"You said you needed help," a female voice rang out. "Your father offered to drive me over so I wouldn't end up in the lake." "I've got it under control now." "Really? Well, that's good," the woman replied. "We'll just come in and meet Bethany before we leave, if that's all right." Ryan made a grunting sound and metal clanked. "It's not all right. She isn't dressed to meet a bunch of people, and I don't want her feeling-Mom, get back here."

Rafe flashed Bethany a grin and threw the door wide. "Hi, Mom." A petite blonde came stomping into the entry. She fluffed her hair with fine-boned hands to rid it of snow, then offered her cheek to Rafe for a kiss. "Hi, dear heart," she said cheerfully, her large gray eyes flicking past him to find Bethany in front of the brick hearth. "Johnny-jump-ups. No wonder he's been waxing poetic."

Bewildered by the comment, Bethany nodded in greet-ing. "Hello. You must be Ryan's mom."

"Ann," she corrected warmly as she crossed the room, her right hand extended in greeting. "And you're Bethany, of course. Ryan's told us so much about you." "He has?" "All of it good." Ann Kendrick had a firm handshake and a steady, sincere gaze. Bethany liked her. No artifice, none of the distance that so often erected a wall between strangers. She was simply Ann, dressed in snug jeans, well-worn riding boots, and a denim jacket rubbed white at the elbows. Looking at her, Bethany never would have guessed she was one of the richest women in town. No diamonds, no gold. The only flashy thing about Ann Kendrick was her beautiful smile.

After the handshake, Ann linked fingers with Bethany and sat on the hearth. "You look none the worse for your experience today. I understand you had a wreck?" "Not really a wreck, more just a fender bender with a huge rock." Bethany was beginning to feel like a stuck recording. "I wasn't hurt."

"That's good. Ryan said you got a bad chill."

Bethany explained how her coat and purse had been thrown to the floorboard upon impact. "I never realized before how much cold air seeps up through the floor of a vehicle until I was lying on one." Ann sighed. "Well, I'm very glad you thought to call Ryan." Just then a snow-encrusted Ryan came backing in the open doorway, wrestling and cursing a huge network of piping that refused to fit through the opening. Bethany gaped. How many bars did they think she needed, anyway?

"Dear God," Ann whispered. "He's built you a skyscraper, honey."

Bethany stifled a giggle. It did look like a small skyscraper, with a triangular pull-up bar dangling on a chain from the uppermost crossbar. "Son of a bitch." Ryan popped a barked knuckle into his mouth. "That'll be ten dollars," Ann called out. "I'm keeping track." Ryan flashed her a glare and muttered under his breath. "Bring her in through the sliding glass doors," Rafe suggested. "And then what? If she won't fit through here, she sure as hell won't fit through the bathroom doorway," Ryan said.

A wiry old cowboy with a turkey neck and a face so baked and wrinkled by the sun it resembled a crumpled brown paper sack manned the opposite end of the skyscraper. His droopy tan Stetson looked like an extension of his body, the camel shade of the battered, badly soiled felt almost the same color as his skin. With solemn eyes, he peered through the bars at Ryan. "You reckon she'd fit if we tipped her over?"

"Why is it," Ann mused softly, "that men automatically think that anything difficult is a female?"

Bethany nearly choked on a giggle. "I have no idea. In this case, I'm glad it's a she, though. I'll be getting up close and personal with that contraption." Ann's eyes danced with merriment as she resumed watching the men. Waving his injured hand, Ryan stepped back to regard the framework from all angles. The brim of his Stetson and the shoulders of his jacket were covered with snow, and his fresh jeans were wet to the knees. Observing him, Bethany couldn't help but recall that he'd said this would be no bother.

Just then an older gentleman who looked very like Ryan and Rafe appeared outside on the porch beside the wiry cowboy, whom Bethany guessed to be Sly. "What you got the girl figured for, son, a trapeze artist?"

"Enough, Dad. We didn't know how high to make the bars, so we made two. And Sly thought a pull bar would be nice, so we made it tall. Otherwise, all us guys would hit our heads every time-" He broke off and glanced at Bethany. "Every time we went to see a man about a dog," he finished.

Ryan's father grinned through the bars at Bethany. "I'm Keefe Kendrick, by the way. Ain't this a hell of a way to get acquainted with people?"

That was an understatement. She couldn't remember a time when her bathroom requirements had been the main topic of discussion among strangers.

Oddly, after the first wave of intense embarrassment passed, she was able to relax, mainly because everyone else was so matter-of-fact. They all got into the act, finally managed to get the contraption into the house, and then worked together as a team to fit it in the bathroom. The ribbing and laughter ran rampant, and soon Bethany was chuckling right along with everyone else.

"Ya-hoo!" Keefe Kendrick said in a booming voice when the job was finally completed. "Butter my ass and call me a biscuit. I think the damned thing might work, son. Let's have her give it a try." Bethany threw a startled look at Ryan's father, half afraid he meant for her to try it out right then. "Come on," he urged. Oh, God, that was exactly what he had in mind. . "Not for real," Ryan assured her. "We just need to see if the bars are right. If not, I'll run get the portable welder, and we'll make some quick adjustments."

So it happened that Bethany first tried out her skyscraper while everyone looked on. The triangle pull-up bar proved to be a marvelous improvement on the bars she had at home. She was able to grab hold of it and swing from her chair so easily she whooped with delight. Her audience applauded, and Ryan and Sly beamed with pride for having devised something that worked so well.

"Ryan, this is wonderfull"

"You really like it?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, I love it. When I leave, can I take it home with me?"

"No way. That monster is staying put. If you really like it, we'll build you another one for your place."

Bethany frowned. "You don't really mean to leave it here."

"It won't be so ugly if you paint it."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Paint it?"

He winked at her. "I'll spray paint it first, then you can paint little flowers and doodads here and there.

It'll pretty right up."

"Painting it would take me days."

"Works for me."

Keefe, who stood in the doorway with an arm around his wife's shoulders, gave the skyscraper a long, narrow look. To Bethany, he said, "If you don't want us fellas bitchin' like a bunch of women about the toilet seat, you'd best remember to wrap that chain around a sidebar after you use it, honey. Otherwise somebody's gonna get his pearly whites knocked down his throat."

Ann smiled serenely. "What are you going to name her, Bethany? Anything that big and homely needs a handle." Still perched on her throne, Bethany thought for a moment and then swatted the pull bar. "I think I'll call her 'Sweet Revenge.'"

Chapter Eleven.

Everyone had dinner at Ryan's, a family gathering made complete when Rafe drove home to fetch Maggie, his mother-in-law Helen, and the three kids. Only Becca. the housekeeper-cum-nanny, who had the evening off, was unable to attend. After some good-natured bickering, spaghetti was chosen as the main course with garlic bread, salad, and green beans on the side.

Usually people assumed Bethany couldn't help with meal preparations. In the Kendrick family, everyone was expected to help, including Sly, who was sent over to Ann's house to fetch fresh garlic. Bethany was recruited to prepare the bread. Ryan and his mom put on the spaghetti sauce. Helen was in charge of setting the table, Maggie and Rafe fixed the salad. Grandpa Keefe and Heidi were assigned baby-sitting duty, a task they seemed to greatly enjoy.

The comradeship reminded Bethany of her own family, and she settled into the Kendrick circle easily, smiling at their teasing banter, laughing when the ragging was turned on her. She found herself wishing that the evening wouldn't end-or, more precisely, that the feeling of belonging didn't have to end.

Ryan. Occasionally their gazes would lock, and the look in his eyes made her heart catch. You seel he seemed to be saying. This can work. It will work, if only you'll give me a chance. "Toes!" Bethany warned as she took the bread over to slip it in the preheated oven. "I run over all feet that get in my way." "You're just hoping to get out of drying dishes," Maggie said with a laugh. "No such luck, lady. We'll take our chances."

The baby awoke and started to cry just then. In the middle of reading a story to Jaimie, Keefe hollered from the great room. "Heidi's talking on the phone. Can someone take care of Amelia? Jaimie and I are to the good part."

"Bethany, can you take care of her? I'm on mop-up detail." Maggie dabbed at Rafe's cheeks with a towel. "Poor baby. Onions do it to you every time."

"I'm not good with babies," Bethany said. "I haven't been around them."

"No time like the present to start," Maggie replied cheerfully. "She may be wet. Her disposable diapers are in the bag there by the sofa."

Bethany went to the great room. Amelia was not a happy camper. Lying on the sofa with pillows plumped around her as bolsters, she was thrashing all her limbs and screaming. Sly stood to one side, gnarled hands at his hips, chin jutted, eyes crinkled as he peered down at her. Judging by the expression on his weathered face, he was more at home with cows. No help there.

'Have you ever changed a diaper?" Bethany asked hopefully.

"Never have much truck with kids 'til they can walk and wipe their noses."

Sly didn't run after making that pronouncement. A true cowboy sauntered, even if he was putting out a fire. Sly did, however, manage to saunter away with amazing speed. Bethany lifted Amelia from the blankets. The baby's face went serene. She fixed Bethany with big brown eyes and smiled, showing off two tiny teeth.

"Hello," Bethany said softly. She felt inside the little girl's diaper, and sure enough, it was wet. Never having changed a diaper before, Bethany whispered, "Oh, boy. I'm not sure I'm ready for you, Amelia."

Keefe glanced up from the storybook. "There's nothing to it, honey. The diapers have tape tabs. They go on slicker than greased owl dung."

"We have no babies in our family yet, so my experience with them is nil."

"Amy isn't hard to please." He cuddled Jaimie closer and turned the page of the storybook. "If you don't do it exactly right, she won't give a rip."

Bethany's hands trembled as she dug in the bag for a diaper. She kept expecting the baby to start screaming with impatience, but Amelia only gurgled and smiled, as if all the stops and starts were loads of fun.

Heidi returned just as Bethany got the diaper off. She leaned over the back of the couch, her big brown eyes curious but friendly. "Ryan says you were an awesome barrel racer."

Bethany glanced up. "Not bad. I hear you're a barrel racer, yourself."

Heidi wrinkled her nose. She looked very like her older sister, Maggie, with the same delicate features and a wealth of dark brown hair. "I'm trying to be. Ryan said that maybe, if I asked you real nice, you'd come out to watch me race and give me some tips."

"Oh, gosh, I..."

"Please?" Heidi inserted. "He says you took state three times. That makes you an all-time great, practically a legend." "Not quite that good," Bethany said with an embarrassed laugh. Heidi glanced down at the baby. "You're s'posed to wipe her off now." "Oh." Bethany felt foolish, having a twelve-year-old give her instruction in diaper changing. There was no help for it. "What should I use to wipe her with?" "A wipe." Heidi came around the end of the teal sofa to rifle through the bag. She finally located a slender white plastic case filled with disposable cloths. She plucked out one and handed it over. "Haven't you ever done this?" "No." Bethany dabbed at Amelia's bare bum. "This is my first time." "You're doing good," Heidi assured her. "You don't have to be so careful, though. Just wipe her off all over, making sure you get in the wrinkles. Otherwise Maggie says she gets all sore. Then you put on powder." Bethany did as instructed, and soon Amelia was put back together again. The baby chortled happily and kicked her feet, her chubby legs churning beneath the ruffled hem of her cute little red-checked dress. "We make a pretty good team," Bethany told Heidi as she gathered the baby onto her lap. "When the mud dries up, I suppose I could come out and watch you race the barrels some afternoon." Heidi's eyes went wide. "You will? For true? Wow. Just wait 'til I tell Alice. She'll be green." Bethany laughed again. "Alice? Another barrel racer, I presume?" "Yeah, and she's a lot better than me. Now I'll have an edge." "I don't know how much I can really help you," Bethany warned. "I can't get on a horse and show you anything. Advice can only help so much." "It'll help me oodles. I just know it! And we don't have to wait for the mud to dry up. Ryan can figure out something." "Ryan can figure out what?" Bethany glanced up to see the topic of conversation walking toward them. He leaned down to rest his elbows on the sofa back. "You volunteering me for something, Heidi girl?" "Only to figure out a way for Bethany to watch me race the barrels. She's worried about the mud." Ryan smiled at Bethany. "She has a fixation about mud. Not a problem. I can lay out planks, if nothing else. Can you come out next Saturday? That'll be easier than trying to schedule a time after school." "I have Saturdays off," Bethany agreed. "That would be a good day." Heidi was so excited, she bounced up and down. "This is so cool." She took Bethany by surprise, leaning down to hug her and kiss her cheek. "I was so sure I just totally wouldn't like you. But you're so nice, I can't help myself." Bethany was still laughing as the young girl went racing back to the bedroom to call her friend on Ryan's extension. "Why on earth was she so sure she wouldn't like me?"

Ryan chuckled. "I think she sees you as competition."

"Uh-oh."

He settled a twinkling gaze on her. "You're home free. In the order of importance, I rank well below barrel racing, thank God." "I'm not a competitor for your affections, in any case." "Nope. Not in any case," he agreed. Story time over, Keefe set Jaimie down and watched him scamper away to the kitchen. The child was a pint-size replica of his grandfather, his dark hair and skin earmarking him as a Kendrick by blood.

Bethany's gaze shifted to Ryan. "He looks so much like you."

Ryan gazed after the child, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, he does. I keep accusing Rafe of hiding in Maggie's woodpile three winters ago, but he swears he wasn't anywhere near Prior, Idaho, when the kid was conceived."

Bethany frowned and shot a startled glance after the little boy. "Pardon?"

"He isn't Rafe's biological son. He was a month old when my brother met Maggie. Not that it matters, one way or another." He held her gaze, his expression suddenly intense. "It's just something I figured you ought to know."

"Not Rafe's?" She shook her head. "I never would have guessed it. He looks so much like all of you guys, and you seem to love him so much."

"We do love him. Bloodlines are important in horses, not people. Jaimie is Rafe's son in every way that matters, and when he's old enough to understand, he'll never feel less a Kendrick than any of Rafe's biological kids. That's the way it is in our family. Right, Dad?"

Keefe tucked in the back of his chambray shirt with sharp jabs of his fingers. "Damn straight. I'd take a dozen more just like him."

As Keefe moved toward the kitchen, Bethany marked the lazy, loose-jointed way he moved, which was strongly reminiscent of his sons. Someday, when Jaimie grew older, would he walk with that same fluid grace, simply because he'd been raised by these men?

She flicked a wondering glance at Ryan. She'd been so sure he would never in a hundred years be content to adopt children.

A twinkle slipped into his eyes as he steadily returned her regard. She half expected him to say something. Instead he merely straightened and exited the room, leaving her alone with the baby and her confusing thoughts.

Amelia didn't allow Bethany to dwell on those thoughts. Well rested from her nap, she was ready to socialize, and she chortled and thrashed until Bethany focused full attention on her beaming little face. Big mistake. What a beautiful angel she was, all plump and soft and sweet-smelling. Holding her, touching her, and playing with her, Bethany couldn't help but wish for a child of her own. A child she could never have. The doctor who'd done her surgeries had been very clear on that. Chances are, you'll never carry a child to term. In my opinion, that's a blessing. A woman in a wheelchair has no business having children.

Remembering those words dealt Bethany a crushing blow to the heart even now. A blessing. Never had anyone said anything so cruel to her. She'd been nineteen years old when she had her third surgery. Only nineteen, and a doctor had all but said that she'd never be able to have a normal sex life or a family. When you boiled it all down, what was left? Nothing.

Staring down at Amelia's little face, Bethany struggled to shove these feelings away. This was stupid. What was more, it would be embarrassing if anyone saw her looking long in the face. It was just-oh, God. Being here in Ryan's home, getting to know his family ... she wouldn't be human if the thought didn't seep into her mind that this could be her home and her family.

What was it about him that made her so soft in the head? Oh, sure. His brother had adopted a son, and right now, at this stage of his life, Ryan might think he would be content to do the same. Only it was different for Rafe. He'd already had another child of his own with Maggie, and chances were, he'd have others. Ryan would never be able to have a child of his own with Bethany.

How would he feel about that when he was fifty? A lot of men wanted to sire their own offspring. She suspected it was a man thing, somehow connected with their sense of self-esteem and virility. What Ryan might count as unimportant now could become a major concern later. He was a wealthy landowner with a family dynasty to pass on. When he grew old, wouldn't he want his heritage to go to children with Kendrick blood?

Besides, who was she kidding? As if her inability to have a child was the only problem. Not by a long shot. He spent the majority of each day outdoors, riding, roping, and climbing over rough terrain, and his leisure-time activities were centered on the outdoors as well. A couple was supposed to share a life, not exist in different stratospheres.

There was no way she could hope to share Ryan's reality. If she were to go outside right now, she wouldn't get three feet before her chair wheels sank in mud and snow. Ryan would end up having to carry her and her chair wherever she needed to go. Was that what she wanted? To become a burden? No. She would want to be a contributing partner in a marriage, not an onlooker.

And on this ranch, an onlooker was all she could ever be. Standing at the breakfast bar, Ryan glanced her way just then, and their gazes locked. For an instant, Bethany felt as if the world moved away, that they were the only two people in the room.

She was the one who averted her gaze first, and she did so with heartfelt finality. Maybe Ryan could accept her paralysis, but he'd never be able to accept all that came with it-or more to the point, all that didn't come with it, babies of his own and a physically active wife at the top of the list.

What was more, only a very selfish woman would ask it of him.

After a wonderfully congenial dinner around the kitchen table, Ryan put in a video, and everyone adjourned to the great room to watch the movie, a children's film about two dogs and a cat that embarked on a journey through the wilderness to return home. Bethany expected to sit in her chair as she did while watching movies with her own family, but Ryan had other ideas. He scooped her up, deposited her on the reclining love seat, and settled beside her.

After drawing an afghan over them both, he kicked up his footrest and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Comfortable?"

She was more than just comfortable. It was lovely, being able to snuggle down on soft furniture like a normal person. "I'm perfect," she assured him.

"Yeah, you are," he agreed, his voice pitched low. Before Bethany could ask what he meant by that, he said, "Have you already seen the movie?"

"No. Have you?"

He glanced at the children, who were sitting at one end of the long sofa with Rafe and Maggie. Like ill-matched book-ends, Sly and the delicate Helen sat elbow-to-elbow at the opposite end. "I'd say we've all watched it about twenty times. It's Jaimie's favorite. Sally Fields does the cat's voice and Michael J. Fox does the younger dog's."

"Really?" Bethany gazed at Maggie's mother, Helen, whose lovely brown eyes were fixed eagerly on the screen. If she'd already seen the movie that many times, Bethany wondered why she was so anxious to watch it again.

"Helen's one tier shy of a full cord," Ryan whispered.

Sly glanced over and frowned, making Bethany wonder if he had overheard the comment and took exception to it. Bethany flashed Ryan an appalled look. "What do you mean?" "Heart attack," he explained softly. "Oxygen deprivation to the brain. She's a darling, just a little childlike." She gazed at Helen through new eyes. Over the course of the evening, she had noticed that Maggie's mother was strange in a very sweet sort of way. "She's still so young and pretty. What a tragedy." "Depends on how you look at it, I guess. She'll think more or less like a ten-year-old for the rest of her life, but she's the happiest person you'll ever meet. Fifty-five years old, and she believes in Peter Pan." Bethany studied Helen a moment longer and decided Ryan was right. The poor thing seemed happy, her eyes shimmering with delight as the movie began. She seemed to be as captivated as the children.

Bethany directed her gaze to the television, hoping to enjoy the movie herself. No easy task. To do so, she needed to block out the caress of Ryan's fingertips on her shoulder. He traced circles on her sleeve, the assault on her nerve-endings ceaseless. Her skin burned everywhere he touched.

Bethany nearly asked him to move his hand a dozen times, only if she did, he would know his touch unsettled her. It was only innocent touching, after all-an absentminded, repetitive movement of his fingertips on the cotton knit.

Watching the distracted frown that pleated Bethany's smooth brow, Ryan smiled to himself. He knew exactly what was causing that frown and continued to do it without a twinge of guilt. Any young woman who'd never even taken a solo flight was in dire need of a man's hands on her, and in this particular instance, not just any man's hands would do. When the time came, Ryan was determined it would be him who taught her to fly.