She tried putting her pillow over her head, then even yanked the blankets over that. It did no good. She was awake-ateight thirty-threein the morning, after having slept fewer than four measly hours. She knew thatLoga.n.u.sually woke around six.Which meant that in all likelihood, he'd been lying there for at least a couple of hours, actively restraining himself from getting up and starting in with his annoying morning-person activities. The only reason he would do such a thing was to give her a chance to sleep undisturbed.

It was thoughtful of him. And she should have been grateful.

But she wasn't grateful.

She was nine months' pregnant and she was tired and Logan Severance was driving her crazy with his will of iron and his musing I - know - something - you - don't - know smiles and his absolute refusal to accept that she was never, ever going to say "I do."

Lacey pulled the pillow closer around her face and muttered a few choice naughty words.

Couldn't he see that it would never work? Even if he returned her love, what possible chance did they have of making it as a couple? They didn't even get up at the same time.

He went back to the refrigerator-did he actually imagine she couldn't hear every move he made?-and put the milk away. Then back to the table again. He didn't sc.r.a.pe the floor with the chair, but it creaked when he sat down. His spoon clinked against the bowl.

When she found herself straining to hear him chew, she knew it was no use.

With another low oath, she shoved back the covers and reached for the tent of the day, a scoop-necked, ankle-length, teal-blue creation, which she'd left hanging on a wall peg along with her bra the night before. Her ballerina flats were right there, too, in the tiny s.p.a.ce to the right of the bed. She tore off her sleep shirt and put on the clothes, shivering a little with cold, realizing that he must not have built a fire after all, even though she'd distinctly heard him fooling around with the stove.

When she entered the main room, he looked up in mid-crunch. She didn't say a word, just went out the door and into the bathroom, where she relieved her overworked bladder and splashed icy water on her face and grumbled to herself in the mirror as she raked a brush through her hair.

Loganwas over at the stove, clattering the iron covers, when she reentered the cabin. He sent a smile over his shoulder. "Now you're up, I'll make a fire."

He rumpled a newspaper and fed it into the belly of the stove as she went to the old electric percolator on the counter by the sink, filled it with water and plugged it in.

"You're drinking coffee?" A frown ofdoctorly concern creased his brow.

She unplugged the pot, took the lid off and tipped it so that he could see inside. "Just water. I'm heating water. For tea.Herbal tea. Does that meet with your approval?"

"Yes," he said gently. "As a matter of fact, it does." He turned back to the stove. She took a tea bag from the canister and dropped it into a mug. Then, since it never took the water that long to boil, she just stood there at the counter, waiting for it.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, once he'd lit the fire and was carefully putting the cover back in place.

"I'll get myself some cereal."

"Are you sure? Maybe an egg-"

She looked at him. The look must have said exactly what she was thinking.

"Not an egg person, huh?"

"Not in the last, oh, eight months or so."

"I understand."

She doubted it, but she decided not to comment. Soon enough, the water was hot. "There's some instant

coffee, if you want it," she muttered grudgingly as she poured the boiling water over her tea bag.

"No, thanks. The cereal's fine."

She carried a bowl and spoon to the table with her. The cereal was already there. He went to the

refrigerator and got her the milk. Soon enough, they were sitting across the table from each other,

crunching away. Lacey tried to concentrate on her cereal. She took slow bites and she chewed thoroughly. She'd discovered, especially over the past month, when her entire digestive system seemed to have been crammed into a tiny s.p.a.ce between her swollen uterus and her lungs, that if she didn't eat slowly, either hiccups or heartburn would be the result.

"I tried not to wake you," he said with regret, after a few moments of mutual chewing and swallowing.

She sent him a glance. "But you did."

"You're angry."

"No." She had to chew some more. He waited. Once she'd swallowed, she told him, "I was angry when

you woke me up. Now I'm..." She sought the word. It came to her. "...philosophical."

He set down his spoon. He looked much too amused. "You? Philosophical?"

She scooped up more cereal, poked it into her mouth. "Uh-huh."

He watched her as she chewed. When she swallowed, he said, "I a.s.sume you intend to elaborate."

As a matter of fact, she did. She nodded. "It's just come to me. In a blinding flash of insight."

He muttered, "I'll bet."

"I mean it." She left her spoon in her bowl, braced her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her

hand. "It has. It really has."

"All right. I'll bite. What has come to you?"

Her stomach felt squashed. She arched her back, rubbed at the base of her spine, then settled into her

earlier pose, chin in hand. "Our basic natures are at odds."

"Meaning?"

"The fact that you love my sister aside, there really is no hope for us-as a couple, I mean."

His jaw twitched. "That's your opinion."

She sighed. "Remember that old story-the ant and the gra.s.shopper?"

He dared to groan. "You're kidding."

"Nope. You're the ant. Up at first light. Diligent and hardworking, upwardly mobile, always getting ready

for a rainy day."

"I'm an ant." He did not look pleased.

She gave him a lazy grin. "That's right. I, on the other hand, am allgra.s.shopper ." She gestured at the

small, dim room around them. "I take everything-each day-as itcomes . I live for the joy of the moment. You don't understand me and I don't understand you. We're just ... much too different by nature to have a prayer of making a go of it together."

He studied her for a long moment, looking irritatingly amused. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but as I recall the story, when winter came, the gra.s.shopper died." She hit the table with the heel of her hand. "See? Total ant logic. Focusing on the very things you can least control."

"I a.s.sume you mean death."

"Yes. Exactly. Death. And bad weather, too." She picked up her spoon again and went back to work on the cereal. "I thought that was the moral of the story,"Logansaid. "The ant worked hard and scrimped and saved and lasted the winter. The gra.s.shopper partied. And when the cold weather came..." He shook his head and pretended to look mournful. "Too bad, so sad."

She pointed her spoon at him. "I live in L.A. Bad weather is not a problem."

"We're discussing a fable, Lace. In a fable, bad weather stands for any of a number of possible difficult periods in life."

She'd started out this little discussion feeling pleasantly superior-now she felt just plain disgruntled. "Oh, never mind. You're determined to miss my point and make your own."

"I got your point."

"Right." She bent her head over her bowl and finished her cereal, aware of his eyes on her the whole time.

When she looked up, sure enough, he was watching her.

He said, "Maybe having my baby is the best thing that ever happened to you. As my wife, you know

you'll always have a roof over your head when winter closes in." She reached for the bottle of prenatal vitamins in the center of the table, screwed off the lid and shook one into her hand. "Listen to me, Logan. I'm not going to be your wife. And as far as that roof you mentioned, I don'tneed to know it'll be there. I don't think that far ahead. As I keep trying to explain to you, I'm a gra.s.shopper to the core." "Fine. So I'll think ahead for you. Youdo need that. Especially now, with the baby coming." She picked up her bowl and stood. "I can see I'm getting nowhere." "I wouldn't say that. This has been an enlightening discussion." "Enlightening for you, maybe." There it was again, that musing, knowing look in his eyes. "Seriously. I think we have a lot to offer each other." "Dream on." "I'll scrimp and save for a rainy day. You'll see that we make the most of every moment. We're the perfect couple." Something scathing rose to her lips. She bit it back and turned for the sink, where she washed her vitamin down with water, cleaned her bowl and spoon and set them in the wooden rack to dry.

* * * "He seems a fine man," Tess said. "And so handsome, too." They were sitting in a pair of rockers on the porch of the main house, just Tess and Lacey, enjoying the shade in the heat of the afternoon. Zach andJobeth had takenLoganout for a look around the ranch, Starr had driven off that morning to her summer job and Edna had settled in with the baby at her own house for a short nap.

"Lacey, did you hear what I said?"

Lacey made a noncommittal sound. She had her sketch pad perched on what was left of her lap and she was busy stroking in shadows with the side of her pencil.

Tess took a fewmore tiny , perfect st.i.tches on the thick wool sock she was darning. "I hope he goteverything worked out all right with the other doctors at his office." Loganhad tried calling his office via cell phone earlier. When the cell phone cut out on him, he'd ended up using the phone at the main house. "Yes," Lacey said. "His partners have agreed to cover for him." "Well. That's good." Was it? Lacey wasn't so sure. But she felt no urge to remark on the fact. She focused on her drawing, her hand moving swiftly and surely over the paper.

Tess cleared her throat. "Maybe I have no right to ask, but I'm going to ask anyway..."

Lacey made a series of quick, deft strokes, cross-hatching more shadows, then looked up from her sketch pad. "Yes," she said, "Loganis the baby's father."

Those big dark eyes of Tess's didn't waver. "He says he's here to marry you."

"When did he say that?"

"Last night. You had left the table for a moment." Tess snipped with her scissors and tied off her thread.

"Will you marry him?"

"No." Lacey flipped the cover over her drawing and set the pad on the short bench between them.

"Why not?"

Lacey's back was aching, as it had been for the past few days. She pushed herself from the chair and indulged in a nice, protracted stretch. Tess watched her, saying nothing. Lacey wandered to the railing and managed to hoist herself up onto it. She put one hand under her belly to support it a little and leaned her cheek against the porch post.

Then she said it. "He doesn't love me. He's always loved Jenna."

Tess bent to her basket, dropped in the sock, and brought out a plaid shirt with a tear at the shoulder seam. "How do you know that?" "They were high school sweethearts. And they were even engaged, last year, before MackMcGarrity came back into the picture."

"That was last year. What about now?"

"I've ... confronted him with it. Yesterday, when he first arrived and started insisting that we had to get married."

"And?"

"He didn't come right out and say, 'I love Jenna,' but he never denied it, either."

Tess looked over the rows of thread spools in her sewing box, seeking the right color. "Your sister is no threat to your relationship withLogan. Jenna loves her husband."

"Unfortunately, that hasn't stoppedLoganfrom lovingher ."

"Or so you a.s.sume, though he's never actually said as much."

"He doesn't have to say it. I know. And he certainly hasn't said he loves me."