"The doctor never teases, and I never get riled."

"Okay, even if he wasn't teasing, I still wouldn't consider working for him."

He flashed a smile, and for a fleeting second she forgot how irritating he could be.

"I didn't think you would be interested."

Annoyed, she asked, "Then why are we having this conversation? If you knew the answer, why did you ask?"

"Just making sure. That's all."

They swayed to the music for a good half a minute, and she was actually feeling relaxed when he ruined it.

"You'd be terrible at it, by the way."

"It?"

"The job."

"How would you know if I'd be good or bad?"

"You live in a comfort zone. That's how I know."

"I'll bite. What's a comfort zone?"

"It's where you live. You never step outside your safe environment, your comfort zone," he explained. "You stay in the shadows." Before she could object, he said, "I'll bet you've never done anything in your entire life that was spontaneous, or taken any risks."

"I've taken plenty of risks in the past year alone."

"Yeah? Name one."

"I sold my company."

"That was a calculated decision and you netted a huge profit," he countered. "What else?"

"I've been doing a lot of running. I thought I'd try for the Boston Marathon next year," she offered.

"It's a regimen, requires discipline. Plus, you do it to stay fit," he argued.

He wasn't looking over her head now. He was staring into her eyes, and he was making her extremely uncomfortable. For the life of her, she couldn't think of a single spontaneous action or risk she'd ever taken. Everything she did was well thought out and planned down to the last detail. Was her life really that boring? Was she she that boring? that boring?

"Having trouble coming up with one?"

"There's nothing wrong with being careful." Great, now she sounded like a ninety-year-old.

He looked like he was about to laugh. "You're right," he said. "Nothing wrong with being careful."

Embarra.s.sed because she had only just realized how dull she was, and guessing that he had already figured that out about her as well, she hurriedly changed the subject to get the focus off of herself. She blurted out the first thought that came into her mind.

"Isabel has a great voice, doesn't she? I could listen to her all night. Did you know she's been hounded by agents wanting to make her a star? She's not interested though. She's only a freshman, but she's already decided she wants to be a history major, then get her master's and teach. Interesting, don't you think? She's giving up fame and fortune. I think that's amazing, don't you?"

Noah gave her a piercing smile that went right through her, but he looked puzzled as well. No wonder. She was babbling like a toddler. She knew she should stop talking, but she couldn't seem to make herself close her mouth. Thanks to his scrutiny she had a bad, bad case of nerves.

For the love of G.o.d, Isabel, wind it up. Enough already.

"And did you know that in a few years Isabel is going to inherit land in Scotland? It's called Glen MacKenna," she rushed on. "She invited the strangest little man to the wedding and the reception. I just met him, and he has all the information he's collected in boxes in Texas. He's a professor, you see, and he's done quite a lot of research on a feud that he says has existed for centuries between the Buchanans and the MacKennas. According to the professor, Dylan and Kate should never have gotten married. There's a legend about a treasure too. It's fascinating, really it is."

She finally had to pause to take a breath or she'd pa.s.s out.

He stopped dancing for a few seconds and then asked, "Do I make you nervous?"

Duh.

"When you stare at me you do. I'd appreciate it if you would go back to being rude and stare over my head when you speak to me. That is is why you do it, isn't it? To be rude?" why you do it, isn't it? To be rude?"

His face lit up. "And to irritate you."

"It works. You do irritate me."

Would Isabel never finish the song? She was taking forever. Jordan smiled nonchalantly at the couples gliding by as she wished for the dance to end. It would be rude to just walk away, wouldn't it?

Noah nudged her chin up with his index finger and looked squarely at her. "May I make a suggestion?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. "Suggest away."

"You ought to think about getting into the game."

She sighed. "What game would that be?"

"Life."

Apparently he wasn't through giving her suggestions on ways to improve her dull existence.

"Do you know the difference between you and me?" he asked.

"I can think of more than a thousand differences."

"I eat the dessert."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Only that life's too short. Sometimes you just have to eat dessert first."

She knew where this was going. "I get it. I watch life while you live it. I know you think I should do something spontaneous instead of always planning everything out, but for your information, I'm already doing something spontaneous."

"Yeah?" he asked, and the challenge was there in his voice. "What's that?"

"Spontaneous," she stalled.

"And what would that be?"

She knew he didn't believe her. Come h.e.l.l or high water, she was determined to do something spontaneous, even if it killed her. The satisfaction of wiping that arrogant know-it-all grin off his face would be worth any sacrifice, even if it wasn't logical.

"I'm going to Texas," she said, enforcing her decision with a nod.

"What for?" he asked.

"Why am I going to Texas?" She didn't have the faintest idea at first, but fortunately, she was a quick thinker. Before he could say another word, she answered her own question.

"I'm going on a treasure hunt."

PAUL N NEWTON P PRUITT LOVED WOMEN. HE LOVED EVERYTHING about them: their soft, smooth skin; their feminine scent; the luxurious feel of their silky hair brushing over his chest; the erotic sounds they made when he touched them. He loved their infectious laughter, their stimulating screams of delight. about them: their soft, smooth skin; their feminine scent; the luxurious feel of their silky hair brushing over his chest; the erotic sounds they made when he touched them. He loved their infectious laughter, their stimulating screams of delight.

He didn't discriminate. The color of their hair or the color of their eyes or their skin-he loved them all. Tall, short, thin, fat. It didn't matter. They were all wonderful, and to him, each one was so very unique.

Admittedly, he had a special fondness for the way some of them smiled at him. It was a smile he couldn't possibly describe. He only knew that one glance his way and his heart raced. The lure was that powerful. He simply couldn't resist, couldn't say no. Beguiling and enticing. That certain smile never failed to captivate him.

Before he'd had to shape up and change his behavior in order to survive, he'd been quite the ladies' man. And that wasn't his ego talking. It was just the way it was. He'd been irresistible back then.

But things were different now.

In his old life, if he grew bored, he would say his good-bye with expensive gifts so there wouldn't be any ill feelings toward him. He could not bear to think that even one of his women would ever hate him. Only when he knew for certain that he had pleased them could he move on to the next lovely, sometimes enchanting, woman. And there was always another one.

Until Marie. He had fallen in love with her, and his life had changed forever. The life he knew was gone. Paul Newton Pruitt was gone. A new name. A new ident.i.ty. A new life. No one would ever find him.

SHE HAD TO BE OUT OF HER EVER-LOVING MIND. A TREASURE TREASURE hunt? What had she been thinking? Apparently she'd been more interested in proving to Noah Clayborne that she wasn't a complete bore than in using common sense. hunt? What had she been thinking? Apparently she'd been more interested in proving to Noah Clayborne that she wasn't a complete bore than in using common sense.

Jordan knew she had no one to blame but herself for her present circ.u.mstances, but she still wanted to blame Noah, simply because doing so made her feel better.

She leaned against her dilapidated rental car on the side of the beat-up, two-lane highway in the middle of nowhere, Texas, while impatiently waiting for the engine to cool down so she could pour more water into the coolant reservoir. Thank goodness she'd stopped awhile back on the interstate to pick up a couple of bottles of drinking water for the rest of her trip. She was fairly certain the radiator had a leak, but she'd need to keep the engine running long enough to get to the next town to have a mechanic look at it. It was at least a hundred-ten in the shade, and of course the car's air conditioner had bit the dust about an hour ago, along with the super-duper satellite system the rental agency had thrown in as a consolation prize for messing up her reservation and knowingly dumping a lemon on her.

Sweat trickled down between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s; the bottoms of her sandals were melting into the pavement, and the sunscreen she'd lathered on her face and arms was giving up the fight. Jordan had dark auburn hair but a redhead's complexion, and it didn't take much sun for her to burn and freckle. She supposed she had a choice. She could either sit in the car and die of dehydration while she waited for the engine to cool down, or she could stay outside and be slowly cremated.

Okay. She was being a little overdramatic. That's what the heat will do to you, she thought.

Fortunately, she had her cell phone with her. She never left home without it. Unfortunately, since she was temporarily stranded in the middle of the vast flatland, she couldn't get a signal.

Serenity, Texas, was fifty or sixty miles away. She hadn't been able to find out much about the town, only knew that it was so small the name warranted only the smallest typeface on a map of Texas. The professor had called Serenity a charming oasis. But when she'd met him he'd been wearing a heavy wool, tweed blazer in the summer heat. What did he know about charming?

She had checked the professor out before leaving Boston, and although he was strange and eccentric, he was the real deal. The man was multidegreed and certified to teach. An a.s.sistant in the Franklin College administration building, a woman named Lorraine, had raved about his teaching abilities. According to her, the professor made history come to life. His cla.s.ses were always the first to fill up, she said.

Jordan found that nearly impossible to believe. "Really?"

"Oh my, yes. The students don't mind his accent, and they must be hanging on every word because no one ever fails his cla.s.ses."

Ah, now Jordan understood. An easy grade.

The woman also mentioned that he'd taken early retirement, but she hoped he would reconsider and come back.

"Good teachers are so hard to come by," she had remarked. "And on the salaries they're paid, most can't afford to retire at such an early age. Why, Professor MacKenna is barely in his forties."

Lorraine obviously didn't mind divulging personal information about a past faculty member, and she hadn't even asked Jordan why she was so interested. Granted, Jordan had lied and told the woman she was a distant relative, but Lorraine hadn't required any verification.

She was a talker, no doubt about that. "I'll bet you thought he was much older, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"I did too," she said. "I could look up his birthday for you if you'd like."

Good heavens, she was accommodating. "That won't be necessary," Jordan answered. "You said he officially retired? I thought he'd taken a sabbatical."

"No, he retired," she insisted. "We'd be thrilled to have him back. I doubt he will ever teach again though. He received such a nice inheritance," she continued. "He told me he had no inkling that he was getting it, that the money was quite a surprise. He made the decision then and there to buy some land far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. He was doing research into his family's history, and he wanted a place where he could work in peace and quiet."

Looking around her now, Jordan imagined the professor had found his peace and quiet. There wasn't a soul in sight, and she had a feeling that Serenity was just as stark as the surrounding landscape.

A half hour pa.s.sed, the engine cooled, and she got back on the road. Since there wasn't any air-conditioning, she kept the windows down, and the blistering hot air felt like blasts from a furnace on her face. The terrain was as flat as one of her souffles, but once she drove around a yawning bend and saw the fences on either side of the road, the area seemed less desolate. At least there were signs of habitation. A rusted barbed-wire fence that looked like it had been constructed about a century ago enclosed empty pastures. Since she didn't see a single crop growing, she a.s.sumed the fences were for horses and cattle.

The miles rolled by, but the scenery didn't change much. Finally, she drove up a couple of gentle slopes, and then the road curved. Around a sharp bend she spotted a tower off in the distance. A sign on the side of the road announced that Serenity was just a mile away. As she made the turn, she picked up her cell phone and saw that she had a signal. The road dipped and then topped a hill. There, spread out before her, was the west side of Serenity.

It looked like a place too tired to die.

The speed limit dropped to thirty miles per hour. She pa.s.sed several small homes. A rusted pickup truck sat on blocks in the front yard of one house. The tires were missing. Another house had a discarded washing machine in a side yard. What little gra.s.s there was among the weeds was untended and burned out. A block farther on she pa.s.sed an abandoned gas station with one pump still standing. Vines grew up the side of the vacant building, and she could only guess what sort of critters could be living in it.

"What am I doing here? I never should have sold my company," Jordan whispered.

Pride. That's what got her into this ridiculous adventure. She didn't want Noah Clayborne mocking her. "Comfort zone," she muttered. "What's wrong with wanting to be in my comfort zone?"

She thought about driving on through Serenity to the next big city, returning the rental car with a few choice words, and getting on the first flight to Boston, but she couldn't do that. She'd promised Isabel that she would meet the professor and then call and tell her what she'd learned.

Admittedly, Jordan was a little curious about her own ancestors as well. She certainly didn't believe that all of her Buchanan ancestors were savages, and she wanted to prove it. She also wanted to know what caused the feud between the Buchanans and the MacKennas in the first place. And what about the treasure? Did the professor even know what the treasure was?

Jordan drove on and reached the main street. The houses looked lived-in, but the lawns were parched and brown, and the shades were drawn.

Serenity was as inviting as purgatory.

The red light on her dashboard began to flash, indicating the engine was overheating again. She found a small convenience store a couple of blocks away and pulled in. It was so hot she felt like her back was glued to the seat. She parked in the shade, turned the motor off so it would cool down, then pulled out the notepad with the professor's phone number and dialed.

On the fourth ring, his voice mail picked up. She left her name and number and was putting her phone back in her purse when it rang. The professor must have been screening his calls.

"Miss Buchanan? Professor MacKenna here. I have to hurry. When do you want to meet? How about dinner? Yes, dinner. Meet me at The Branding Iron. It's off Third Street. Just head west and you'll run into it. There's a nice motel right across the street. You could check in, refresh yourself, and meet me at six. Don't be late."