Hank had no idea why he'd told her about losing the family ranch. It was something he'd never told anyone else in his life. It was information that showed up on no bio, a painful episode that had created in him a drive for wealth and success, for the kind of invulnerability money and power bought.

As they walked to the stables, he studied her, as if he might find in her features the reason for his atypical disclosure to her.

Maybe it was because she was so unlike the women he chose to date. Less attractive, less vivacious, Angela lacked the sophisticated veneer of the women he was normally drawn to. Yet, there was something about her that had opened him up. She had a natural warmth that radiated an invitation for confessions.

Curious, he mused. He was rarely one to share much of himself. Surely it had been an anomaly, not likely to happen again.

"You know, on the drive here we talked about our marriage, we talked about our wedding, but we didn't talk about our hobbies." He looked at her curiously. "What do you do in your spare time?"

"Spare time?" She looked at him as if he'd spoken a foreign language.

He grinned ruefully. "Remind me when we get back to the office to cut back on your hours. I've been a slave driver with you for too long."

"I don't mind," she replied, her features radiating solemn earnesty. "I love working for you... when the work is teaching me the advertis.e.m.e.nt business." They stopped walking as they reached the stable doors. "It's when I'm doing your personal errands that I sort of resent the time spent."

Her cheeks flushed with a hint of pink. "I would rather learn what you know about advertising than be the one to order roses for your latest jilted lover." The color in her cheeks intensified and she looked away, as if the word "lover" was more than a little bit naughty.

"Angela, the women I send roses to aren't always my *lovers,'" he protested. "Sometimes they are business a.s.sociates...or friends...or just women I'm seeing, but not sleeping with."

"Right," she replied dryly, her tone of voice letting him know she didn't believe him.

Suddenly it became important to him that she did believe him. "You sound like you think I've got the morals of an alley cat, and that's not true."

She had the most expressive face he'd ever seen. Emotions flitted across it...disbelief, followed by uncertainty and at the same time he watched the fleeting play of her inner feelings he realized her eyes were brown. Not a plain, ordinary brown, but a golden amber that radiated warmth that washed over him like rays of sunshine.

A discordant bell rang in the distance, breaking the moment of strange captivation that had momentarily seized him. Looking toward the house, he saw Brody standing on the back porch ringing a large triangle dinner bell.

"Looks like it's time to eat," he said. "And time to put our married faces back on."

As they walked back toward the house, Hank shoved away that momentary need to convince her of his high moral fiber. He didn't care what she thought of him. She was his secretary and nothing more. She did her job efficiently and had agreed to go along with this crazy game of wife for a week. That's all that mattered to him.

Dinner was a pleasant affair. Angela and Hank were introduced to the other two couples who would share the week of marital enrichment with them. The first couple was Trent and Elena Richards, neighbors of the Robinsons.

"Trent has been my unofficial ranch consultant since we moved here," Brody explained. "He's working with his brother-in-law, and they are quickly becoming known as the place to buy purebred horses."

Trent was a big, handsome man, and his wife Elena was a dark-haired beauty who gazed at Trent as if he'd hung the moon.

Hank found himself wondering why they were here. The way they looked at each other, their constant casual touching, everything about them spoke of their love and commitment for each other. From what they said, they'd been married two years and had a sixteen-month-old little boy.

The other couple, Stan and Edie Watkins, told the group that they had been married ten years. Stan worked as a general manager for the Brody's Biscuits factory in Chicago and Edie worked as a subst.i.tute teacher. They had no children and from the look on Edie's face as she told them that, the subject was a painful one.

Hank had spent little time with married people. Most of his time was spent either at work or dating, or alone. For him, it was interesting to watch the other couples, see the easy, comfortable way the husbands and wives interacted with each other.

Still, Hank had always believed marriage involved giving up pieces of yourself that you never got back. He had no pieces he wanted to share with anyone. Marriage might be okay for other people. It just wasn't right for him.

After dinner, the four couples left the table and went into the library for after-dinner drinks. As was customary at social gatherings, it wasn't long before the women had grouped together on one side of the room, and the men on the other.

As Stan asked ranching questions to Trent and Brody, Hank found his attention torn between listening to the men and watching the women.

Angela had surprised him by holding her own in conversation over the meal. She was always so quiet at the office, but not so this evening. She'd shared in a lively political debate, her natural wit bringing laughter to them all several times.

He tried to imagine Sheila in a similar setting, but couldn't. For Sheila, discussing politics meant talking about what outfit the first lady had worn to a particular social function.

"Hank." Brody's large hand fell on his shoulder. "That's a fine woman you married," he said, smiling broadly across the room to Angela. "I always knew you were a smart businessman, but I have to confess, I'd had my doubts about your smarts in your personal life. Seems I was wrong." Brody frowned thoughtfully. "What I don't understand is why in all the interviews I've read about you, she's never mentioned."

"Angela doesn't care much for being in the spotlight. She prefers a low profile," Hank replied.

"She's a bright girl and very personable. You're a lucky man," Brody exclaimed. His face lit with a deeper, fuller smile as he gazed at his own wife. "I know all about being a lucky man." He looked at his male guests. "I'll tell you this. None of you will be the same after this week. You'll be richer spiritually, closer than ever to the women you love after completing my wife's marriage encounter.

"Now, who is ready for another drink?" Brody asked as he removed his hand from Hank's shoulder.

"I'll take a refill," Hank replied. He had a feeling he was going to need it. The guilt of his deception weighed heavily on him. He shoved aside the feeling.

One week. It certainly wasn't like being married for the rest of his life. For one week he could pretend anything. He looked back over at his secretary. Surely for the s.p.a.ce of seven days he could pretend he loved her.

"Why don't we all move to the back patio?" Barbara suggested to the entire group. "This time of the evening it is so pleasant outside." She opened double French doors that led out onto a large patio with floral furniture.

As they all moved outside, the segregation by s.e.x ended. Trent sat at one of the patio tables next to his wife. Stan joined Edie on a love seat and Hank sank down next to Angela on a double glider.

Barbara was right. It was pleasant outside. The heat of the afternoon had pa.s.sed and a cool light breeze brought with it the fragrance of sweet-smelling flowers and the earthy scent of nearby pastures.

Again the conversation was light and easy... focused on the weather, the approach of winter and ranching life in general. As the talk remained socially shallow and impersonal, Hank felt himself begin to relax. And as he relaxed, he became aware of sensations he hadn't noticed before.

His leg was pressed against Angela's, and he could feel the heat from her body radiating through his jeans. Her clean, fresh-scented perfume seemed to surround him and he noticed that the deepening golden hues of twilight painted her features with a becoming soft glow.

"You doing okay?" he asked in a voice low enough so n.o.body else could hear.

"Fine," she replied, leaning closer to him. "I amaze myself with my capacity to lie. I never dreamed I'd be so good at it."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to watch you more closely when we get back to the office," he teased.

"Okay, you two whispering lovebirds," Brody said, interrupting their covert conversation. "I'll bet you're all wondering exactly what's going to happen this week. If you think the week is going to be eating good Montana beef and enjoying the quaint little town of Mustang, you're right. But it's going to be a lot more than that." Brody threw an arm around his wife's shoulder. "I figure now is a good time for Barbara to let you know what to expect as far as scheduling is concerned."

Barbara smiled at them all. "First, I promise this will be a wonderful, enlightening experience for all of you. Whether you've been married ten years or ten days, this program is designed to deepen your intimacy, connect you and your spouse in a healthy, soulful relationship that will make your marriage better, happier, and completely fulfilling."

"I think I liked the part about eating Montana beef better," Stan said. The others laughed as Edie elbowed him in the ribs.

Barbara laughed with the rest of them. "I know, it sounds a little scary, but I promise you'll be different people by the end of the week...better husbands and better wives."

Hank's stomach tightened with anxiety. He didn't want to become a different person. He was satisfied with the man he was at this moment. That's exactly what he didn't like about marriage... women always expected their mates to change.

"We'll start at nine in the morning," Barbara continued. "We'll work from nine until noon as a group. Then after lunch, I'll work with each couple individually for an hour each." She smiled at Hank and Angela. "I'll be starting with you two at one o'clock in the afternoon. After your individual work, you'll be free until dinnertime at six. After dinner, we'll have another group session from eight until nine. And that will be the daily schedule for the rest of the week." She looked at them all expectantly. "Any questions?"

"About a million," Stan replied. "But I guess I'll just wait for the morning to come and they'll all get answered."

"Anyone else?" Barbara asked.

Hank wanted to ask if he could back out, if it was too late to get in the car and go back home, back to his office and his familiar life.

Angela laughed aloud. "Do you notice how we women all look eager and the men all look as if they're ready to bolt?"

The couples looked at each other. It was true. All three men had moved to the edge of their seats, as if ready to take off running at any moment. Everyone laughed, the male laughter holding an edge of discomfort.

Barbara nodded. "Don't worry, guys, it's perfectly natural. Men are always the most reluctant to change. They are above all, creatures of habit." She smiled affectionately at her husband. "My own, included. But, I think Brody can a.s.sure you that as I stated before, this isn't painful and you'll be happier after going through the process."

Brody nodded. "I chose the three of you to experience this week because I like you. I consider you all not only business a.s.sociates, but friends as well. I want you all to have the kind of marriage Barbara and I have. She had to teach me how to give completely of myself, and she's going to teach you the same things."

Barbara stood. "And now I'm going to call it a night. Please feel free to remain out here as long as you want or make yourself at home inside. I'll see you all in the morning."

"Breakfast is at seven-thirty," Brody said as he got up from his chair. "Good night." He followed his wife from the patio.

For a long moment silence followed their parting. The twilight had deepened as night clouds crossed the sky, ready to usurp what little light was left "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm terrified," Stan said, breaking the silence.

Edie giggled. "Honestly Stan, you act like you expect Barbara to perform a lobotomy on you."

"Maybe she will. Maybe that's how she makes us better men," he replied, his words once again causing laughter.

"I suppose if we're going to have such a big day tomorrow, becoming a new man and all, I should turn in," Stan said.

Edie nodded her agreement and smiled apologetically to the others. "We're on eastern time, so our bodies are telling us it's bedtime."

Trent touched his wife's shoulder and they stood as well. "I think we'll head up, too."

Within minutes everyone had left the patio except Hank and Angela. For a moment they sat side by side, the only sound the constant noise of insects clicking and whirring their nighttime lullaby. Far in the distance a cow mooed, the sound somehow lonely and mournful.

"I'm not a bit tired," Angela said, breaking the relative silence. In her voice Hank heard a touch of anxiety.

He had a feeling her unease was born in the knowledge that eventually they would be going up to the same bedroom for the night.

He had no words to say to a.s.suage her uneasiness. She certainly already knew he wouldn't make a pa.s.s at her. He knew she wasn't uneasy because of anything he might do. He suspected it was the situation itself she was nervous with, the idea of spending the night in a man's room. An intimate setting that would undoubtably be a novel experience for her.

"No matter how long we put it off, eventually we're going to have to go upstairs to the bedroom," he said softly.

"I know," she said, her tone a touch defensive. "I was just commenting that I wasn't tired."

"You sounded like you might be a little nervous. I realize this might be a bit awkward for you, that perhaps you've never spent the night with a man before."

Despite the falling darkness, he saw the flush that colored her cheeks. But, when she turned to look at him, it wasn't embarra.s.sment that flashed in her eyes. It was anger. "And what makes you think I've never spent the night with a man before? What makes you think I haven't had a lover...or a dozen lovers?" Her voice was clipped, curt, with a touch of arrogance he found attractive.

"I...uh...just a.s.sumed..." Hank's voice trailed off as he fought with uncomfortable embarra.s.sment.

"You just a.s.sumed because I'm not drop-dead gorgeous that I haven't had lovers? You think because I'm not blond and big chested that no man in his right mind would find me desirable?"

"No...that's not it at all," Hank interjected hurriedly, surprised at her instantaneous fury. "It has nothing to do with the way you look." He searched for words to explain his thoughts. "I...you... there's an innocence about you...I just thought probably you were rather inexperienced."

"It's smarter to ask than to a.s.sume," she said stiffly.

He hesitated a moment, knowing he shouldn't ask, but unable to stop himself. "So...how many lovers have you had?"

She eyed him levelly. "That, Hank Riverton, is none of your business." She stood. "And now, I believe I'll go to bed." Without waiting for him, or turning back to look at him, she left the patio.

Hank stared after her. My, he'd certainly managed to ruffle her feathers. And she'd certainly managed to put him in his place, at the same time stirring up more than a little curiosity.

He had a feeling there was a lot more to his secretary than met the eye. He had a feeling it was going to be a week to remember.

Chapter Four.

As Angela walked up the staircase to the room where she would be staying for the next week, she wondered if by the time the week was over she would still have a job.

She'd alternated between mouthiness and defensiveness since the moment Hank had picked her up, two traits that were not characteristic of her.

But, there was something about Hank that set her on edge, something that made her more sensitive than normal. Whenever he looked at her, she was aware of her failings...of the fact that she wasn't pretty, she wasn't smooth or sophisticated.

And what on earth was she doing pretending that she took lovers as casually and as often as she took baths?

She shook her head, wondering where in the past several hours she'd lost her mind. Entering the attractive bedroom, she tried to still the nervous anxiety that winged through her as she thought of sharing the s.p.a.ce with Hank for the next six nights.

Opening one of the drawers, she pulled out a pair of pajamas and all the items she needed for a shower. A few minutes later as she stood in the shower, new horrors crossed her mind.

What if she snored? What if in her sleep she ground her teeth or, heaven forbid, drooled? How could she ever face Hank again in a working situation if she did one of those things?

She should have never agreed to this. She lathered her hair with a vengeance, wishing she could go back to that moment when his sinful blue eyes had pleaded with her to agree to this madcap scheme. That's when she'd truly lost her mind, she realized. The moment he'd batted those bedroom eyes at her and she'd agreed to be his pretend wife, she'd skidded out of reality and into temporary insanity.

All too quickly she finished her shower and was clad in the cotton pajamas she'd bought specifically for the trip. Long-sleeved, long-legged, the pale pink pajamas covered her from neck to ankle.

She opened the bathroom door and peeked into the bedroom, grateful to see that Hank had yet to come into the room. Quickly, she took the bedspread off the bed and grabbed the top sheet. If she was going to sleep on the love seat, at least she intended to use a sheet.

She turned off the light overhead and instead turned on the lamp by the bed. With the glow of the softer illumination, she tucked one end of the sheet into the back of the love seat cushions, giving her a section to lie on, then pulled the remainder of the sheet over to cover her.

Angela was no giant. At five foot four inches, she was fairly small. But the love seat wasn't made to be used as a bed, and her legs hung uncomfortably over the wooden, arm.

Finding this position impossible, she turned on her side and curled her legs up to fit into the small s.p.a.ce. If she were lucky, she would be sound asleep by the time Hank came in.

At the moment that thought crossed her mind, the door opened and Hank entered. Angela quickly closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

She could tell what he was doing by the sounds he made. He emptied his pocket on the top of the dresser, the loose change jingling softly as he set it down. She heard him expel a soft sigh at the same time the mattress springs announced that he'd sat on the edge.

Klunk. He removed one shoe.

Klunk. He removed the other.