Probably something her mother taught her no doubt, he thought.

He jerked a thumb at the child. "How long since she's had a home-cooked meal?"

Denise immediately read the negative side of the question. "Are you saying I can't cook?"

He couldn't picture her in a kitchen of any sort. He had a great deal less difficulty picturing her in his bedroom, maybe just dressed in her work gloves. The image coaxed an appreciative, sensual smile from him.

"Can you?" he challenged.

As far as cooking went, she didn't burn water, but she didn't exactly do very much else with it, either. "I don't get any complaints," she sniffed.

The nonanswer told Will all he really needed to know. "That's probably because they're afraid to complain."

She took offense at his inference. "My family's not afraid of me."

Maybe afraid was the wrong word, but he bet they knew better than to oppose her. "A benevolent dictator is still a dictator."

She didn't like what he was saying, even if the words were coming out of a firm, wide mouth that seemed to unsettle her every time he was close to her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She knew d.a.m.n well the way her family reacted to her, he judged. Knew, too, the kind of woman she was. Strong-willed to a fault. He was beginning to suspect that, in a one-on-one contest, she could put Morgan to shame.

"You're a bright lady, you figure it out. In the meantime, come to dinner."

"Why?" So he and his family could feel superior? So they could feel magnanimous, extending charity in the guise of hospitality to those who they deemed less fortunate?

He looked into her eyes. She had d.a.m.n pretty eyes, he thought, feeling himself melt a little. For him, it was a brand-new sensation and he wasn't quite sure just what to do with it yet. Not without further examination.

"Because I'd like you to," he said softly.

For just the tiniest second, the way he looked at her made Denise's knees feel as if they were going to buckle like cardboard left out in the rain. The panic that caused made her grab handfuls of sarcasm and spread it liberally around-a magic circle to ward off men who could hurt her heart.

"And I should drop everything because you want me to do something?"

"Not everything." He placed his hand over the hammer she was holding, just in case she had any ideas. His foot was far too tempting a target for her to resist. "Just your att.i.tude."

Just who did he think he was, coming in, criticizing everything about her? "And just what's wrong with my att.i.tude?"

"Nothing," he allowed, his smile engaging. "If you happen to be a Viking about to sack a village. In that case, you'll be all prepared for anything that came your way. However, your att.i.tude needs a little adjusting in light of these more modern, less violent times."

She knew it. He was laughing at her. "And you've elected yourself as chief adjuster." The question was almost a snarl.

Will fell back on his endless good humor, determined not to let her bait him this time. He was already having trouble recognizing himself. "I'd like the opportunity to do a little tweaking, yes."

There was no reason in the world for her pulse to jump that way over a word as stupid as "tweaking." But there was no denying that her pulse was definitely jumping.

"Why?" she breathed.

Games were for people who knew how to play them. He wasn't even sure how to pick up the board pieces.

"Because I find myself very attracted to you, Denise Cavanaugh. Don't ask me why. Maybe I have a weakness for women who drive big-rigs with carousel horses stored in them, I don't know. All I know is that I'd like to see more of you. Preferably without having to worry about you biting off my head every two seconds." He gestured around the grounds. "Maybe you're a little softer, a little more at ease away from all this responsibility you're shouldering."

So, he wanted her softer, did he? Why? So he could pounce and not find a hard landing? She'd show him softer all right.

"What you see is what you get." She bit her lip, realizing that perhaps that didn't come out quite the way she wanted it to. "Figure of speech," she muttered disparagingly.

He grinned. Under the bravado, he had a hunch, was a very uncertain young woman. It would help him endure the attack.

"Understood."

Will saw her father approaching them again, a curious expression on his face. The man was probably wondering how he came to still be standing upright after ten minutes in the company of Denny, the man slayer. Will raised his voice, calling out to him.

"Mr. Cavanaugh, I'd like to invite you and your daughter and granddaughter for dinner at the Shady Lady."

Tate joined them. He welcomed the chance to get away from the makeshift kitchen and the meals that came out of it, even if he usually had a hand in making them.

"Is that a restaurant?" Tate hadn't noticed any establishment by that name on their way in, but there was a whole other side to this town he hadn't had a chance to see yet.

Will shook his head. "No, sir, that's the name of our ranch."

Tate rubbed his chest in small, concentric circles, a habit he had of late when he was thinking, Denise noted. She was quick to take advantage of the opportunity she hoped was opening up.

"We don't have to if you don't want to, Dad."

Oh, but he did want to. It would be good to get away for a while, and think of something other than the troubles surrounding them.

"A man never turns down an invitation for dinner, Denny. It's not polite." He looked at Will. "Just give us directions, Will. We'll be there."

"And I'll do better than that. I'll come by tonight to take you there myself."

If he drove, they'd be trapped there, Denise thought. "We can find our own way the-"

"That'll be very kind of you," Tate told Will, cutting Denise off.

Will nodded. "I'll be here at six," he promised. "But right now, I'm afraid I have to leave."

Tate nodded, too. "Thanks for all your help."

Will took his leave, feeling not unlike a man who had bid on a mystery box, not quite sure just what he was about to receive.

Denise went back to work even before Will was out of earshot. "You can go with Audra, Dad. I'm not going."

Tate sighed. If he lived forever, he wasn't going to figure her out. From where he'd stood, watching the two of them, he'd had the impression that there was something humming between them. Something good. He followed her back to the fun house.

"I'm the one who's supposed to get more ornery with age, Denny, not you." She merely made an unintelligible sound in response as she set the ladder back against the side of the building. Tate held it in place as she climbed up again. "What've you got against the boy?"

If Will Cutler were a boy, there'd be no problem. "He's a man, not a boy, Dad, and why are you so sold on him?" She bit back the flash of temper. Her father was far too willing to take people at face value.

Tate glanced over his shoulder. Will was just pulling out of the lot. He'd stayed on far longer than Tate had thought he would. And he did d.a.m.n fine work.

"Because he seems like the decent sort and I think you could do with a little company outside the crew."

Hadn't her father learned anything after what she'd been through? Why wasn't he trying to protect her instead of encouraging her to become a walking target again? "I'm doing just fine."

"Are you, Denny?" He looked up concerned. "A woman your age-"

"Should be around people she cares about, doing what she wants to do." Her tone softened. He meant well. "And I am-on both counts."

Tate took the hammer from her as she climbed down again. "You need someone to take care of you, Denny. I can't do that anymore."

So that's what it was. Guilt. She did her best to absolve him of it. "That's a hopelessly old-fashioned idea, Dad. I can take care of myself and Audra, thank you very much."

It wasn't a matter of being incapable, it was a matter of need. "Everyone needs someone to lean on once in a while."

She smiled at him. He'd been both mother and father to her for more years than she had fingers and toes. "I have you."

The smile on his lips was rueful, tired. "I'm not much good anymore."

It broke her heart when he talked that way. She knew it was useless to try to talk him into going to see a doctor about the way he felt physically. But the least she could do was bully him into feeling better about himself.

"Now you listen to me, Tate Cavanaugh. You're just as good as you ever were and you've earned the right to slow down a little." Reaching up, she threaded her arm around his shoulder. "You've worked hard all your life, now let me take care of you."

A twinkle entered his eyes. "Does that mean indulging me a little?"

She knew where he was going with this. "You want me to go to this thing at the Cutlers's ranch tonight, don't you?"

"Yes."

She blew out a breath, surrendering. She never could say no to her father. "I suppose I can."

Tate caught her up in a hug. He had a feeling about that Cutler boy. A good feeling. Releasing Denise, he grinned at her. "That's my girl."

She wished she could have mustered the same kind of enthusiasm as he did, she thought darkly. But she had a very uneasy feeling that meeting Will Cutler on his home ground was not going to be good.

4.

"Will's bringing a woman?" Kent stared at his mother as Zoe Cutler set extra places at the table. Many extra places.

Finding a summons from his father to attend dinner on his answering machine when he walked into his house not half an hour ago, Kent had come more out of a sense of curiosity than anything else. Smack in the middle of the Cutler siblings, he felt himself to be the perfect balance between Will and Quint, his two more serious-minded brothers and Hank and Morgan, his younger, more flamboyant and fiery brother and sister.

Zoe spared her middle child a look that could only be described as barely harnessed joy laced with antic.i.p.ation. "So he said."

Kent counted the extra places. There were five in all. One for him, one for Will. That left three unaccounted for. "How many women did Will say he was bringing?"

"Just one." Zoe moved a gla.s.s half an inch to the right, then back again. She was admittedly nervous. Will had never brought a woman home before. "The other two places are for her family."

So it was a family affair, was it? This sounded way too serious for his oldest brother. "He's bringing them here?"

Kent looked around his parents' dining room, a room that Will had personally designed and remodeled. It was a given that when Will signed onto a project, he was there from inception to fruition. Kent tried to imagine the sort of woman who would capture his serious-minded brother's fancy and failed.

"Why here? Why not his own place?"

"Maybe he feels more comfortable bringing her here. He said he was bringing her father and her daughter, too."

"Daughter?" Kent echoed. This really sounded serious, he mused, still amazed. "Do you know the last time Will brought a female into the house?" He didn't wait for a response. "Fifteen years ago. It was Queenie."

Zoe thought of the stray collie her son had taken in. Queenie had long since gone to her reward. With deliberate movements, she refolded a napkin. "I am well aware of your older brother's interactions with women, Kent. Or lack thereof." She carefully replaced the silverware on the napkin. "Next to you, he was the one I despaired about the most."

Kent broke off a piece of a roll, his eyes widening. "Me?"

She fixed him with a look. "You." She glanced at her watch. Will should be arriving at any moment Where on earth was Jake? "In the last five years, you spent more time with your horse, the cattle and the men than with any women."

The cause, more than anything, had been a romance that had turned sour on him. Kent's way of handling the hurt was to cut himself off from the possibility of repeating the error. He didn't believe in getting back into the saddle after being thrown when it came to the fairer s.e.x.

"Thank goodness Brian Gainsborough had a daughter instead of a son," she said, mentioning the name of the man who had been her husband's best friend. "If she hadn't come out here on a magazine a.s.signment, who knows if you'd have ever come around again?"

Kent frowned, not too pleased with the a.s.sessment he'd just received at his mother's hands. "You make me sound like a lost cause."

Humor curved her lips. "Well?"

Coming up behind her, Jake placed his arms around his wife's waist Five children and Zoe still felt as trim as the young girl he'd first fallen in love with.

"He would have come around, Zoe. Watching us, he would have eventually realized how much he was missing by not being married." Jake stole a kiss to prove his point. "It would have gotten through to even his thick skull eventually." He laughed, releasing Zoe, then rubbed his hands together in antic.i.p.ation of the meal as he eyed the set table. Only genetics kept him from having a weight problem. No one cooked like Zoe. His eyes swept along the place settings, doing a mental tally. Jake glanced at Kent. "So when is your lady coming back?"

His lady. It had a nice sound to it, Kent thought. And even a nicer feel. He missed Brianne more than he thought was possible. It amazed him how far removed he now was from the distant, brooding man he'd been when he'd first met her.

"As soon as she gets things settled in Connecticut and New York." It couldn't be soon enough for him.

Jake studied his son. "Maybe you and Hank can make it a double wedding."

A smile as enigmatic as his mother's played on his lips. "Maybe," Kent allowed.

"Why you old horse thief," Will declared, walking in on the tail end of the conversation. If Kent said maybe, he meant yes. "You never let things like that out unless you've already made up your mind to go through with it. G.o.d, Mom," Will greeted his mother with a bear hug, "you're losing two at once." He grinned. "Must feel great."

Kent turned around, a ready retort on his lips. One look at the company Will had ushered in with him and Kent set aside his instruction on where Will could put his observation.

So this was the woman who'd managed to bring his brother to life. He had to give Will points for taste. She was a beauty. The woman was small and slender, but there was a look about her that said she could handle herself in any situation. She was nothing like what he figured Will would end up with. He'd always envisioned his brother with someone small and delicate, a woman who needed to be taken care of. Will had been a caretaker for as long as he could remember.

They looked like each other, Denise thought, her eyes shifting from one brother to the other. Tall, blond, good-looking, one more chiseled than the other. The word "cowboy" in big, bold letters sprang to mind. Will was taller and a little broader through the shoulder than his younger brother, but there was no mistaking the resemblance.

And they both looked like their father she realized after a beat. Denise tried to guess what Jacob Cutler had looked like as a younger man. Probably more like Will than the other one, she guessed. His eyes were kind. Like Will's.

It's thoughts like that that are going to land you in a whole lot of trouble if you're not careful, Denny, she upbraided herself.