"You never did tell me how you broke your leg, Robbie," she said as the motion of the jeep generated a breeze that tangled her corn silk hair around her face.

"I got bucked off a bull." His mouth twisted into a reluctant grimace, followed by a self-conscious glance at his father.

"A bull?" Jacquie repeated in disbelief.

"I'm going to ride in the rodeo when I grow up," he informed her importantly. "Gramps said you should start learning when you're young."

A frown of disbelief remained implanted on her forehead as she studied the small, blond head beside her. "You don't mean you actually tried to ride a bull?"

"Robbie." The male voice was low and carried a vague warning in its tone, although the man's attention didn't leave the road.

There was an instant of silence. Then small shoulders moved in a speaking shrug. "Well, it was actually a bull calf," Robbie admitted. "I'm not big enough to ride a real bull yet."

"I should hope not!" Jacquie laughed shortly. Then she glanced curiously at the driver. "Do you ride in the rodeo, Mr. Barnett?"

"No," he replied without any further elaboration to encourage the conversation.

"I see," she responded, refusing to give up. "I thought perhaps Robbie was mimicking you like father, like son."

"It was entirely his idea." This time the strong jaw turned, tilting downward toward the boy. "Wasn't it, Robbie?"

Again Choya Barnett's voice was prodding. It evidently found its target as a faint flush crept into the boy's cheeks.

"Yes, sir," Robbie murmured guiltily. "And I won't try it again unless you or Gramps are there."

That revealing statement completed the sketchy description of the accident for Jacquie. She had wondered why Choya Barnett had been so determined not to allow the boy to brag about his injury. Robbie was too young to realize the danger in his obviously unsupervised attempt to ride a calf. The broken leg hadn't seemed to instill any sense of caution either, she decided thoughtfully.

The jeep was slowed and turned into the driveway of the service station where her car had been left. The mechanic was standing in the open arch of the overhead garage doors. He walked forward at the jeep's approach. "Sorry, miss," he said before Jacquie could slip from the pa.s.senger seat, "but I wasn't able to get those parts I needed from Tucson. I can't have your car repaired now before Monday afternoon some time."

"Oh, no!" Even though he had warned her of this possibility, the grumbling protest came automatically in a sigh.

"I'm sorry," the mechanic repeated with a philosophical smile.

"I quite understand that you can't help it," she grimaced, glancing down the highway toward the motel sign. "I'll just have to find a place to spend the night, that's all."

"There are a couple of nice places to stay here. The motel down the road still has a vacancy sign," the man suggested.

One place was as good as another, Jacquie decided. "Thanks for the lift, Mr. Barnett," she offered as she stepped out of the jeep. "Jacquie " Robbie began eagerly. But his father broke in abruptly. "If you want to get your things from your car, Miss Grey, I'll take you on to the motel now."

The offer surprised her, more so than the lift to the garage. A brow raised faintly, before she nodded agreement.

"Thank you. I appreciate that." Her car was parked inside the garage, well within view of the jeep in the drive. As she gathered her overnight bag and cosmetic case from the rear of her car, Jacquie glimpsed the somewhat intense discussion going on between father and son. Judging by the faintly sulky expression on Robbie's face when she returned, the conclusion had not been in his favor.

"Do you have everything you need?" Choya Barnett inquired politely, but in a cut tingly indifferent tone.

"Yes, thank you," Jacquie nodded, feeling somehow that she shouldn't have accepted the offer.

The man was a definite puzzle, offering her a ride when he so obviously wanted to be rid of her. There was little doubt that she had been the subject under discussion. The reason escaped her.

If Choya Barnett wanted to separate her from his son, then why was he prolonging the time she spent in his son's company? Or had the offer been a means of interrupting Robbie before he said something that his father would not approve? That seemed likely.

Sliding onto the seat with Robbie, Jacquie balanced the cases on her lap, taking care they didn't b.u.mp the plaster cast on his leg as Choya Barnett shifted the jeep into forward gear. A covert sideways glance studied the carved profile, the lean angular jaw and the firm mouth, impa.s.sive in its expression.

Face it, Jacquie smiled wryly to herself, you're fascinated with the man. He's quite unlike anyone you've ever met and you'd like to know what makes him tick, she told herself. The very fact that he's not overwhelmed by your looks just makes him all the more intriguing. It would be less than honest not to admit that she found him something of a challenge.

When Choya Barnett stopped the car in front of the motel, Jacquie fully expected him to let her out and leave immediately. Before she could offer him her thanks again, he was switching the motor off and stepping out of the jeep to walk around to her side. She guessed the widening of her aquamarine eyes revealed her surprise.

Nothing in his expression told her anything. The impa.s.sive features made it impossible for her to determine whether he was doing it out of politeness or a desire to make certain he was definitely rid of her.

The larger overnight bag was taken from her. "I'll carry this in for you," he stated in a tone that didn't allow any argument.

Jacquie gave it up silently, swinging her feet onto the ground to stand beside him. Curiosity overpowered her as she stared into the blankness of his sungla.s.ses. "Why are you doing this, Mr. Barnett?" "Doing what?" His head drew back slightly, arrogance in the set of his jaw that his action should be questioned. "I'm merely trying to be hospitable to a stranger who's found herself stranded in our town."

"Really?" she returned with challenging doubt.

"What else do you think it would be, Miss Grey?" He stepped to the side, indicating that she should precede him to the motel lobby.

"I'm not sure," she murmured as she started toward the door.

Inside the motel, Choya introduced her to the proprietress, explaining the circ.u.mstances leading to Jacquie's need for the room, but omitting to say that he had been the second party in the accident. The woman displayed no surprise whatever that Choya Barnett had deputized himself to see that Jacquie found accommodation for the weekend.

In record time she had signed the register and been issued a key to her motel room. Having already been snubbed once for asking the reason for his seeming solicitude, Jacquie didn't risk it again as she led the way to her motel room with Choya following behind with her overnight case. The sungla.s.ses had been removed in the relative dimness of the building after the glare of the outside and were tucked in his shirt pocket. But the tawny cat eyes told her no more of the reason for his aid than his expression did.

Unlocking the motel room door, she swung it open for his entry first. Without a word he stepped by her into the room, flicking on the switch for the overhead light. Jacquie started to follow him into the room, bending her head to hide the smile that swept across her face as she suddenly wondered what he would do if she tried to pay him for his a.s.sistance. He would not find it amusing, she knew.

The toe of her sandal shoe hooked the edge of the throw rug inside the door. She was thrown forward, handbag and cosmetic bag were dropped as her arms reached out to break the fall.

But the expected sprawl onto the floor never happened. With the reflex action of one accustomed to reaching swiftly, Choya Barnett stepped forward, catching her before she ended up in a heap. One minute Jacquie was falling forward and in the next an iron band was around her waist, abruptly checking her movement and drawing her upright in one motion. Her weight seemed feather light to him.

Gasping her surprise at the fall that hadn't occurred, she felt her heart start beating again. Her hands were resting weakly against a hard wall. With difficulty she focused her eyes on it and discovered the white collar of his shirt opened at the throat to reveal the deep tan of his chest. Then she became aware of the iron grip of his arms, tightly surrounding her and holding her firmly against him.

Tipping back her head, pale gold hair cascading over her shoulders, she gazed into his face, that ruggedly masculine face only inches from her own. The amber flame in his eyes seemed to catch at her breath as it burned over her features. The impulse to kiss him was automatic and instinctive, leaping from some hidden inner source that she couldn't explain.

Inexorably, she let her lips move closer to the harsh line of his male mouth. His head dipped toward her in response to her invitation and the fiery warmth of his mouth closed over hers, hardening to deepen the kiss. Before the action was carried out, she was thrust angrily away, held firmly at arm's length for another second before she was released completely from his touch.

Her lips were still parted in antic.i.p.ation of the scorching kiss that had been doused before it had ignited. She blinked in disbelief at the unemotional gold-flecked eyes that gazed at her so coolly now.

"You aren't as indifferent to me as you'd like to pretend, are you, Mr. Barnett?" she accused in a low and breathless voice.

"I'm a man," he stated coldly as if at this moment she had any doubt about it. "It was an unconscious reaction. I promise I don't intend to make that mistake again."

She shook her head, unable to understand what she was hearing. "Why ... why don't you like me? What have I done?" Fingers trembled across her forehead, continuing their path to smooth the hair away from her face. "It can't be because of the accident?"

His mouth thinned with sardonic amus.e.m.e.nt. "Not that alone," Choya Barnett agreed. "But you are trouble, spelled with capital letters, and that makes you one thing I definitely don't need."

"Then why did you take the time to bring me to the hotel?" she demanded, a faint anger growing that she should be so unjustly labeled. "I never believed it was Western hospitality!"

"When there's trouble, I like to know where it is. Does that answer your question, Miss Grey?" A slashing dark eyebrow arched in arrogant inquiry.

Jacquie averted her head. "Yes, it does, very adequately. I hope you understand if I don't thank you for all you've done," she snapped sarcastically.

She was fast losing her temper. Invariably when she became angrily emotional, tears would start to fall. She wanted Choya Barnett gone before she lost control of her temper.

"I understand," he replied with dry cynicism, "very well."

Her hands doubled into fists as the motel door closed behind him. She picked up the cosmetic bag and handbag she had tossed onto the floor prior to her near fall, and in a fit of rage, she hurled them onto the bed, wishing she had thrown them at him instead. How he must be laughing at the way she had invited him to kiss her! She had never been so degradingly rejected in all her life. Trouble! He didn't know the meaning of the word!

CHAPTER THREE.

The sharp rocks seemed to penetrate the thin soles of her sandals, jabbing the sensitive bottom of her feet until Jacquie was reduced to picking her way alongside of the road. Although it wasn't yet midmorning, the sun was already beginning to make its strength felt with searing rays.

When she had started out a few minutes before, it had seemed logical towalk the short distance to the famous Boothill Cemetery. But notdaring to walk on the busy highway, Jacquie had been forced to walk onthe uneven gravel of the road's shoulder. After the first few jaggededges of the sharp gravel had dug into her soles, she had not taken herattention from the ground. A horn blared behind her, signaling an approaching vehicle.

"Oh, go jump in a lake!" she grumbled,

exclaiming sharply as she hopped away, nearly turning her ankle on an oversized chunk of stone.

The vehicle that honked didn't whizz by as others had done. Instead itpulled to a stop beside her. The cutting words that had been formingto check any invitation from a stranger died in her throat as Jacquierecognized the jeep beside her and the imposing man behind the wheel.

"Are you leaving town, Miss Grey?" Choya Barnett inquired mockingly.

He wasn't wearing sungla.s.ses and the lazy, tawny-colored eyes seemed to find her discomfort amusing.

"Not on foot," she snapped harshly. She hadn't slept at all well lastnight, tossing and turning until well after midnight, and she blamedher sleeplessness more on the man she faced now than on the fact thatshe had been trying to sleep in a strange bed. "What are you doing intown this morning? Checking to see where 'trouble' was?" Her voicewas sarcastic.

He ignored that. "If you intend to walk far, you really should have some substantial type of shoes on your feet, not those paper-thin pieces of leather."

"Thanks for the advice. I figured that out for myself, though."

Jacquie started walking again, determined to snub the man the way he had snubbed her.

The jeep rolled slowly along to keep him abreast of her. "Get in," he ordered with an impatient sigh when she grimaced unwillingly at the rocks beneath her feet. "No, thank you," she hissed. "I said get in," Choya Barnett repeated crisply. "You might as well. A few yards down the road you'll probably end up with a twisted ankle or cut foot and you'll have to accept the offer anyway. Get in now and save yourself some pain. Besides, I'm going in your direction."

His logic made her pause. "You don't even know where I'm going," she accused.

"There's only one destination you could possibly have," he replied with thinning patience.

"Oh?" Her hands slipped challengingly to her hips. "And what is that?"

"The cemetery. Every tourist goes there." He sounded so insufferably certain that Jacquie was loath to admit he was right. The problem was, looking down the road toward her destination, there seemed to be nothing else she could be going to but that. "You don't expect me to think you're merely walking for exercise, do you?" Choya mocked.

"Just because you made a calculated guess," Jacquie muttered, "you don't have to be so smug just because you were right!"

"Then stop arguing and get in." Any disguise of impatience was dropped at the clipped order.

If it hadn't been for the rocks biting through her soles, she would have refused. Quite truthfully, she wanted the ride even if she questioned his motives for offering it.

"Where's Robbie?" she asked coldly as she minced her way across the rocks to slide into the pa.s.senger seat of the open jeep. "Did you leave him home today in case I might corrupt him by flirting with him some more?"

Tawny gold eyes bored into her for an instant before the jeep surged forward onto the highway. "Actually he happens to be in Sunday school."

Jacquie stared straight ahead. "It's a pity you didn't choose to avail yourself of some Christian teachings."

Her tongue was barbed, but her basic opinion of the man hadn't changed. He was coolly aloof and faintly condemning in his att.i.tude, but he still attracted her. The chiseled features were unconventionally handsome in their ruthless strength and ruggedness.

With a flash of insight, Jacquie knew the key to his attraction. Choya Barnett was flagrantly male, more virile and masculine than anyone she had ever personally come in contact with before. His physique unconsciously boasted of it, from long, muscular legs, narrowed waist and hips tapering out to solid chest and wide shoulders and ending with dark looks. It was his eyes, the tawny gold of a mountain cat, that heightened the primitive look. They were a gold mask of cynical aloofness, spellbinding and unrevealing.

"I had other things I had to do," Choya stated.

Jacquie looked at him blankly, so lost in her contemplation of him that she had forgotten her previous comment. When his gaze swung to her, she felt the force of his male vitality.

"What?" She swallowed back the sensation of being jolted to her toes.

"I said," he repeated dryly, "that I had other things I had to do besides going to church."

The indifference in his look cut her. It was easy to return a caustic reply when his brief glance swept over her and back to the road.

"Very important things like keeping track of my whereabouts." The cool toss of her head was at odds with the green blue glitter of battle in her eyes.

The jeep slowed and bounced into the graveled parking lot, stopping in front of the b.u.t.ting stick fence protecting the cemetery. Weathered markers were visible beyond the closed fence. Against the skyline were rising mountains, barren and grim. At their feet were the undulating plains of sand and sage and cactus.

Without a thank-you or goodbye, Jacquie slid out of the pa.s.senger seat, wincing as her thin soles felt the sharp gravel again. There was a fine film of dust on her white slacks. She slapped it off, wishing perversely it was Choya's face she was. .h.i.tting instead of her legs. Refusing to look at the jeep, she stalked toward the gift shop that housed the entrance to the cemetery.

"One of the things I wanted to do," Choya's low voice came from directly behind her, stopping her short, "was talk to you."