"I ordered you a better one."

Her gaze came chasing back to his. "Ryan. What all have you bought me that I don't know about yet?"

"Not all that much."

"What, exactly?"

"You want to be here all night?"

"I'm starting to feel really bad."

"Why?"

"Because you've spent so much money on me. I mean-on the one hand, I know we're going to get married, and I shouldn't feel that way. But on the other, I feel indebted."

"Works for me."

"What does?"

He winked at her. "You feeling indebted. I can think of some fantastic ways for you to work off the debt."

"As your stable manager?"

"Nope. The corporation will pay you a wage for that." He glanced at her bed. "I'm thinking of something more interesting." She giggled when he started toward her. "Forget it." "Why?" "Someone might come. My brothers all have keys." That stopped him in his tracks. He hooked his thumbs over his belt and slowly skimmed his gaze over her. "We're not even married yet, and already I have in-law-itis. But that's okay. This is Thursday. I have plans for you later."

"What's Thursday got to do with anything?"

A gleam warmed his eyes. "It's your swim night. I have an indoor, heated pool off the back of the house. I'll give you some swimming lessons."

"I already know how to swim. I creamed you doing laps."

"You've never seen my version of the 'breaststroke'."

She giggled again.

"You'll also find ceiling watching a lot more entertaining in there. It's all skylights. When I set you on the side of the pool after I teach you the breast stroke, you'll be able to gaze at the stars while I-"

Cleo began rubbing against his pant leg just then. Ryan broke off to glance down. When he saw who had interrupted him, he bent to scoop her up in one hand. "Damn cat. I was on a roll."

"She's been lonesome. I've never left her alone this much."

"Let's take the pest home with us, then," he suggested.

"I sort of had the impression you weren't very fond of cats."

"I'm not. I hate cats. Did you know she'll eat you if you die?"

"No, sir! Who told you such an awful thing?"

Cleo narrowed her green eyes at him. Ryan squinted back at her. "I know it for a fact. When I was a kid, my grandmother's neighbor lady died, and her cats had almost polished her off before someone found her."

"Maybe the poor things got hungry because there was no one to feed them."

"She fed them." The thought gave him the shudders. "You ever wondered what she's thinking when she squints at you like that? I think she's thinking about having me for lunch with a little A-l on the side."

"She is not. She's probably just afraid you're going to hurt her. She likes gourmet cat food. No offense, but you probably wouldn't appeal to her." "You would." He winked at her. "You definitely appeal to my taste buds." Her cheeks went pink again. "Is that all you think about?" "Mostly. They say the normal male thinks about it every four minutes." "You're kidding. You don't, do you?" "Nah. I think I'm a little undersexed. I go as long as ten minutes sometimes without ever thinking about it." He winked at her again. "You about ready? I can carry green-eyes and one sack if you can get the other one." "Actually, Ryan, I was thinking I might give Cleo to my mom. Cat's are sensitive. She needs a home where she'll be loved and understood." Ryan stared into the cat's slightly crossed eyes, thinking the poor thing looked a little retarded. "We understand each other, honey." Cleo understood he didn't like her, and he un-derstood she didn't like him. The only reason she rubbed against his leg was to shed on his pants. "And I'll learn to love her, I promise." With his luck, the damn critter would live until she was twenty. "I pretty much like all animals." Except cats.

"I don't know. She's never been around a dog. I'm afraid she won't like Tripper." Ryan tucked the damned cat under his arm. "She and Tripper will get along fine. He's good with the barn cats over at Rafe's place."

A half hour later, after a harrowing ride from town with Cleo hanging upside down from the truck ceiling for much of the trip, Ryan finally got the squirming, scratching cat into his house. When he turned her loose in the great room, Tripper came waddling over to make friends. Accustomed to barn cats, who weren't afraid of dogs, the lab never saw the calico's claws coming. He took a swat squarely on the end of his nose, yipped and howled, then ran for the bedroom. Cleo fled in the other direction, leaped at the vertical blinds, and scaled them to gain a perch atop the wood valance, where she arched her back, raised all her bristles, and hissed, looking for all the world like a Halloween decoration.

"Well," Ryan said, "we're off to a great start."

Bethany whirred down the hall toward the master bedroom. "Tripper? Come here, sweetie. Let me look at your nose." From the bedroom, she yelled, "Ryan, he's not in here."

Unless the dog had broken out a window, he had to be somewhere in there. Ryan joined Bethany and executed a search. He finally found the lab hiding in the bathtub.

"If you aren't the sorriest excuse for a dog I ever saw," Ryan said. "I can't believe you, Tripper. You outweigh that kitty by a hundred pounds."

"Oh, Ryan, his nose is bleeding." Bethany parked side-ways to the tub and leaned over to examine the dog's nose. "Poor baby. She really got you good." Ryan checked the injury. "He'll live. It just smarts a little." Bethany fixed him with a worried look. "I hope this is no indication of how our life is going to go." "Don't even think that way. Our life is going to be absolutely perfect, sweetheart. Cleo will settle in, and before we know it, she and Tripper will be snuggling together on the sofa."

"Oh, do you think so? She's so easily excited. I worry she'll never like it here. Before I lived in an apartment, and she never went outside. In town, I kept her indoors, too. Now here she is on a horse and cattle ranch."

"She'll be fine. Cats are very adaptable."

A few minutes later, when Ryan tried to pluck Cleo off the valance, the cat yowled, leaped, and dug all four sets of claws into the front of his shirt. "Son of a"-Ryan caught himself just in time, and finished with -"biscuit maker!"

The cat catapulted off of him, hit the floor at a run, and sent stuff flying as she scaled the front of the entertainment center. Once on top of it, she glared at Ryan with gleaming green eyes and hissed.

"I don't think she's adapting very well," Bethany observed.

Ryan smiled. "Sweetheart, she'll be fine. She may sense that you're upset. Ever think of that? If you relax and ignore her, maybe she'll relax, too."

He removed his hat and sent it sailing toward the coat tree. The Stetson missed the hook and fell crown first on the floor. That was not a good omen.

"Oh, no!" Bethany cried.

Ryan spun around. "What?"

He followed her horrified gaze to the top of the entertainment center, where Cleo was scratching at the oak as if to cover something up. The hair on his nape prickled. "What the hell is she doing?"

"I think she already did it."

Ryan forgot all about having to donate ten dollars to the college fund and said, "Son of a-aaa-a bitch!"

Chapter Twenty.

The wedding date was set for Saturday, weekend after next, and the intervening eight days were the most glorious of Bethany's life. Ryan. He insisted that she remain with him on the Rocking K, and from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning until he kissed them closed for the last time each night, she had fun. The most wondrous aspect of that, in her opinion, was that even the silly, unimportant things turned out to be unexpectedly wonderful.

The crazy mix of Ryan's household pets, for example. Who would have thought that a very spoiled seventeen-pound feline and an equally spoiled, eight hundred-pound bull would become bosom buddies? Certainly not Bethany. But the following morning was the beginning of what promised to be a lifelong friendship between the two animals.

After having coffee with Bethany, Ryan grabbed his Stetson to head over to the stable to feed the stock. When he opened the door to step out, he paused to flash her a teasing grin. "On the Rocking K, even my wife has to earn her keep, you know. If you want to eat regular, no lady of leisure stuff for you. You'd best show up over there in a couple of minutes, ready to make yourself useful."

Bethany was about to reply when Cleo darted between Ryan's feet to escape outdoors. "Oh, no!" she cried.

Ryan dashed out after the cat, Tripper barking excitedly at his boot heels. Bethany hurried out onto the porch. Cleo. The poor kitty had seldom been outdoors, and then it had always been in town. She would be terrified out here. Bethany envisioned her small pet dashing off into the woods and getting lost. Cleo was just the right size to become some large, hungry carnivore's lunch.

"Here, cat!" Ryan called in a big, male voice.

Bethany anxiously scanned the yard, looking for a splotch of mottled fur. She didn't see poor Cleo anywhere. "Don't call her like that You'll frighten her." Ryan shot her a disgruntled look. "How should I call her then?" In a shrill voice, Bethany called, "Here, Cleo! Here, kitty-kitty!" Ryan swore under his breath, stomped onto the cement pad, and began calling Cleo in an off-key alto.

As much as Bethany appreciated his attempt to achieve the right tone, she thought he sounded like a 220-pound cat killer on the prowl. T-bone came to the summons, bawling stupidly with every step. Bethany felt fairly sure that Cleo would never show herself now.

She wasn't counting on Tripper to join in the search. The plump golden lab clearly had a score to settle, and now Cleo was on his turf. He put his nose to the ground, zigzagged across the yard to a stack of firewood, and began wagging his tail excitedly.

"Ah-hah! She's in the woodpile!" Ryan stomped over. "Here, kitty!" he rumbled as he began moving pieces of wood. With every other breath, he muttered, "Damn cat."

Bethany zoomed down the ramp and hurried over to rescue her poor kitty before Ryan unearthed her. Unfortunately she didn't get there in time. Ryan moved a piece of wood, and there huddled poor Cleo. The frightened feline, hissed and yowled, then eluded Ryan's reaching hands by diving between his legs. Bad mistake. She ran straight into Tripper, who was barking excitedly.

When threatened, most cats head for the highest perch available, and Cleo was no exception. It just so happened that, except for Ryan, T-bone was the tallest thing in the immediate vicinity. The cat leaped on the bull's back. Startled to have an uninvited and very prickly creature clinging to his shoulders, T-bone did what any not-very-bright bull would do. He ran. Determined to save Bethany's stupid cat, Ryan pursued the unlikely duo, but every time he got close enough to grab Cleo, the cat became frightened and dug in with her claws, which made T-bone run again. After thirty minutes of fruitless chase, Ryan returned to Bethany, slapping his Stetson against his leg with every step. "I can't get her, honey." Bethany gazed down toward the lake, where T-bone stood forlornly on the shore with Cleo clinging to his back. The pair looked so silly that Bethany burst out laughing. "I think she's going to stay there. T-bone is the perfect kitty scooter!" Ryan began chuckling as well. "He's all terrain, too, and goes at a fast clip in high gear." He had worked up a sweat, chasing the bull. He touched a shirtsleeve to his brow. "I'm sorry I couldn't catch her, honey. Now you'll worry all day."

Bethany sighed. "Well, she's safe enough on T-bone's back. Not that she'll stay up there for long."

Famous last words. Come noon, the cat was still riding the bull's broad back while he grazed. Bethany studied the pair, smiling and shaking her head. She wasn't close enough to tell for sure, but it looked as if Cleo was having a nap. Since T-bone had apparently accepted the cat's presence, there was nothing to do but wait for Cleo to get down and come back on her own.

As if he guessed Bethany's thoughts, Ryan said, "She'll get hungry. When she does, she'll come to the house."

No such luck. That night, Bethany had Ryan set out food for Cleo on the woodpile. At some point during the night, the cat must have dismounted the bull in order to eat, for the food was gone in the morning. But when Bethany went out to find her kitty, Cleo was nowhere around.

"She's still riding T-bone," Ryan informed her a few minutes later when she entered the stable. "Sly says the bull came in for breakfast a bit ago, and Cleo was still curled up on his back, pretty as you please. She gave herself a bath while T-bone ate his grain."

Bethany shook her head. "Maybe T-bone's her answer to ranch life. She feels safe on him. Everything here must seem really scary to her. He's big and solid." She smiled up at Ryan. "Sort of like you. I can associate."

Ryan's eyes started to twinkle-which Bethany was quickly coming to realize meant trouble. "Oh, yeah?" He glanced around to make sure they were alone, then leaned down to kiss her. A long, heated kiss that made her head swim. "I want you," he whispered.

Bethany could associate with that as well, which struck her as slightly amazing. After the poolside exploit last night, two more sessions in bed, and a wake-up round that morning, both of them should have been completely sated. "Be good," she whispered. "Sly's here somewhere. We'll get caught."

Ryan flicked the white fringe on the blue western shirt she'd purchased especially for him. "You don't really think I can ignore the way that fringe shifts back and forth over your nipples, do you?" He grazed an already hardened tip and chuckled. "No way, lady."

Since she'd worn the shirt expressly for him, Bethany could only smile smugly, pleased that her efforts had been noticed. Nevertheless, she was startled when Ryan suddenly scooped her from her chair. She shrieked and grabbed hold of his neck. "Not in the stable."

"I'll find a private place."

He carried her to the tack room, locked the door, and laid her out on a hay bale. This morning, she wore the shirt and snug blue jeans. He attacked the buttons of her top, saying, "This is where I eat my lunch most days. Tomorrow can you come to work wearing plastic wrap?"

She giggled and then gasped with pleasure when he bent his head to nip gently at her nipple through the lace of her bra. "Ryan, I'm afraid I'll forget where we are and make noise. Sly may hear me." He grabbed for a length of leather hanging from a nail above them. Still nibbling at her flesh and sending shocks of delight coursing through her, he whispered, "Bite down on that."

She giggled again, and then she moaned, every thought in her head slipping away as he unhooked her bra and touched his hot, wonderful mouth to her bare breast. When he shifted to give her other breast the attention it craved, the cool morning air washed over her moist nipple, making it turn rock hard, which seemed to inflame him when he took it in his mouth again. June sunlight poured in the tack room window to play over them. Ryan mumbled something about barely ripe strawberries, making her whimper mindlessly as he unfastened her jeans. "I'm starving for you. I promise this won't take long."

It took about forty minutes, and she loved every second.

Ryan. She was quickly coming to realize that he was going to be an impulsive, unpredictable, and insatiable lover, the kind of man who could be working intently one moment and then be totally focused on making love to her the next, the only uncertainty being where he might grab her.

After the tack room episode, Bethany didn't really expect to make love again until that night, if then. Ryan had other ideas. Later that morning in the stable office while he was showing her how he kept the books, the phone rang, and Bethany automatically answered because she was sitting closer to it. It was Jake, calling during his mid-morning break to check on her.

Bethany no sooner greeted her brother than Ryan grinned wickedly and started unfastening her blouse. She pushed at his shoulder. When he moved in to kiss her collarbone, she braced the heel of her hand on his forehead, trying to hold him at bay. It was like trying to keep water from rushing downhill.

"This shirt drives me wild," he whispered. "Why should I let this fringe have all the fun?" He drew the cloth apart, unfastened the front clasp of her bra, cupped her breasts in his big hands, and proceeded to drive her half crazy with his fabulous mouth while she tried to carry on an intelligent conversation with her brother.

When Ryan started tugging at her nipples with his teeth, Bethany had to ask Jake to repeat a question. She glanced worriedly toward the door. Ryan chuckled and whispered. "I always plan ahead. It's locked."

That made her feel marginally better-until he pushed her breasts together so he could tease both throbbing nipples at once. The gentle squeeze made blood rush to the tips. Ryan leaned back to observe the swelling process with some interest, his gunmetal blue eyes glinting with mischief. In that moment Bethany wondered how his mother had survived his childhood.

Over the weekend Ryan's parents came to visit. Ann was limping from the bruise on her hip. "The doctor says it'll be a while healing, that I'm lucky I didn't break it. I'm getting too old for bouncing off the corners of desks."

Keefe, who was sporting barked knuckles on one big hand, put an arm around his wife's narrow shoulders and said, "The little son of a bitch will think twice before he pushes a lady again." He winked at Bethany. "He dropped the charges against me yesterday. Got to thinking how it'd look on the front page of the paper and decided his behavior toward my wife had been inexcusable."

"I wonder who put that thought in his head," Ryan mused. "You didn't threaten to call the newspaper, did you, Dad?"

Ann smiled. "Your father is far too direct a man to be that conniving. I threatened to call the newspaper." She glanced adoringly at her husband and held out a hand. "My hero. That'll be ten dollars, please, you ornery old curmudgeon."

Keefe muttered and scowled, but he plucked a ten from his pocket and handed it over. Ann slipped it in her shirt and smiled at Bethany. "Not to worry. I won't let a little bruise keep me from being at the wedding."

This wasn't the first time Bethany had seen the men on the Rocking K getting ten-dollar bills out of their clips or wallets. She looked bewilderedly at Ryan, who quickly explained about the no-cussing rule on the ranch. Bethany thought it was a marvelous idea. By the time she and Ryan were able to adopt, the women would have all the men trained.

On Monday her saddle arrived. Ryan no sooner removed it from the crate than he started putting it on Wink. Bethany's stomach got nervous jitters when she realized he meant for her to go riding straightaway. When he turned and caught her expression, he knelt beside her chair, searched her gaze for a long moment, and then hooked a finger under her chin to lift her face.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to get on her. If all you want is to love Wink and be with her every day, that's fine by me."

Bethany stared at the horse for a long, heart-pounding moment. Memories flashed in her mind of her riding accident, and sweat filmed her face. It had happened so quickly in reality, yet in her mind the events leading up to that split second played out in slow motion. She yearned to ride Wink again. The wanting was so intense, her bones ached. But she was also terrified. No one who'd never experienced what she had could possibly understand how the fear grabbed her by the throat.

"I-um ..." She squeezed her eyes closed. "Oh, Ryan, I want to so much. But I'm scared. So scared." He caught her face between his hands. "I can get you to the lake for the wedding on a four-wheeler, honey. Don't even think about this as a have-to thing. All right?" The wedding. Oh, God. Everyone planned to ride horses in to the lake to see them be married. A cold feeling washed over her. She felt all shivery when she met Ryan's gaze. He swore under his breath and started raining kisses all over her face. "I'm sorry. Jesus, sweet Jesus. I need to be horsewhipped for being such a blockhead. Forgive me."

Bethany curled her hands over her wrists. "I want to ride again, Ryan."

He stared hard into her eyes.

"I want to ride again," she repeated. "I just have to gather the courage."

Fifteen minutes later Bethany was strapped onto her horse. She also sweated so badly that it dripped off of her, and she felt nauseous. Terror and bagels didn't mix. Ryan held the reins. "You don't have to do this. Let's get you down." "No." Bethany realized she was clinging to the saddle horn like a child. Oh, God. The ground looked a hundred miles away. She imagined Wink stumbling and coming down on top of her. She gulped convulsively. "I need to do this. Even if I never go riding outside a corral, I need to do this, Ryan." He just stood there, holding her horse and staring up at her. "Bethany, honey, please. This is all my fault. Let's get you down." "No!" She didn't mean to scream at him, but she did. Screamed. As if he were her enemy. "Would you stop standing there and do something to help me?"

He stroked Wink's neck, trying to calm the mare because her rider was doing just the opposite. In some part of her brain, Bethany knew she needed to get hold of herself. "I need you to help me do this," she repeated shakily.