"She's only just lost her father, her house and she'll soon lose her inheritance as well," she said solemnly. "I could strangle Rachel for what she's done."

He could have strangled Rachel himself, for the lies she'd fed him about Ivy. He should have known better. She'd never been forward with men, to his knowledge. He was certain now that she wasn't. But he wondered why Rachel would make a point of downgrading her to him. Perhaps it was as Ivy said--her sister wanted him to stay out of the probate of her father's will. Poor Ivy. She'd never get a penny if Rachel had her way.

"You look very somber," Merrie observed.

"Ivy should have had the house, at least," he said, betraying the line of his thoughts.

"She couldn't have lived there, even if she'd inherited it," she told him. "There's no money for utilities or upkeep. She can barely keep herself in school and pay her rent."

His eyes narrowed. "We could pay it for her."

"I tried," Merrie replied. "Ivy's proud. She won't accept what she thinks of as charity."

"So she works nights and weekends to supplement that pitiful amount of money her aunt left her," he grumbled. "At least one of those mechanics she keeps books for is married and loves to run around with young women."

"He did ask Ivy out," Merrie replied.

He looked even angrier. "And?"

"She accidentally dropped a hammer on his foot," Merrie chuckled. "He limped for a week, but he never asked Ivy out again. The other men had a lot of fun at his expense."

He felt a reluctant admiration for their houseguest. If she'd been older, his interest might have taken a different form. But he had to remember her age.

"Rachel called her today harping about the probate," she said slowly. "I expect that's why she had the migraine. Rachel worries her to death."

"She needs to learn to stand up to her sister."

"Ivy isn't like that. She loves Rachel, in spite of the way she's been treated by her. She doesn't have any other relatives left. It must be lonely for her."

"She'll toughen up. She'll have to." He stretched. "I'm going to bed. I probably won't see you before I leave. I'll be back sometime Monday. You can reach me on my cell phone if anything important comes up."

"Chayce handles the ranch very well. I expect we'll cope," she said, smiling. "Have fun."

"In between fistfights, I might," he teased. "See you."

"See you."

He went back to his room and closed the door. He had to put Ivy out of his mind and never let history repeat itself. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have himself photographed with some pretty socialite. He didn't like publicity, but he couldn't take the chance that Ivy might warm up to him.

He recalled reluctantly the dossier a private detective had a.s.sembled on Ivy's father. The man had been a closet alcoholic and abusive to his late wife as well as Ivy, although he'd never touched Rachel. He'd wanted to know why Ivy had backed away from him once when he'd been yelling at one of the cowboys. He was never going to tell her what he'd learned. But he was careful not to yell when she was nearby. Still, he told himself, he had to discourage her from seeing him as her future. It would be a kindness to kill this attraction before it had a chance to bloom. She was years too young for him.

The rest of the weekend pa.s.sed without incident. The two women worked on Merrie's anatomy exam. They watched movies and shared their dreams of the future. On Monday morning, Merrie dropped Ivy off at the local college on her way to San Antonio.

"I'll phone you the next time I have a free weekend," Merrie promised as they parted. "Don't let Rachel make you crazy, okay?"

"I'll try," Ivy said, smiling. "It was a lovely weekend. Thanks."

"I had fun, too. We'll do it again. See you!"

"See you!"

Ivy spent the week daydreaming about what had happened in the guest room at Merrie's house. The more she relived the torrid interlude with Stuart, the more she realized how big a part of her life he was. Over the years she'd been friends with Merrie, Stuart had always been close, but in the background. Because of the age difference, he didn't really hang out in the places that Merrie and Ivy frequented. He was already a mature man while they were getting through high school.

But now, with those hard, insistent kisses, everything between them had changed. Ivy had dreams about him now; embarra.s.sing, feverishly hot dreams of a future that refused to go away. Surely he had to feel something for her, even if it was only desire. He'd wanted her. And she'd wanted him just as much. It was a milestone in her young life.

But toward the end of the week, as she waited in line at the grocery store to pay for her meager purchases, she happened to look at one of the more lurid tabloids. And there was Stuart, with a beautiful, poised young woman plastered against his side, looking up at him adoringly. The caption read, Millionaire Texas Cattleman Donates Land to Historical Trust. Apparently the woman in the photo was the daughter of a prominent businessman who was head of the trust in question. She was a graduate of an equally prominent college back east. The article went on to say that there was talk of a merger between the millionaire and the socialite, but both said the rumors were premature.

Ivy's heart shattered like ice. Apparently Stuart hadn't been as overwhelmed by her as she had been by him, and he was making it known publicly. She had no illusions that the story was an accident. Stuart knew people in every walk of life, and he numbered publishers among his circle of friends. He wanted Ivy to know that he hadn't taken her seriously. He'd chosen a public and humiliating way to do it, to make sure she got the point. And she did.

Merrie called her to ask if she'd seen the story.

"Oh, yes," Ivy replied, her tone subdued.

"I don't understand why he'd let himself be used like that," Merrie muttered irritably. It was obvious that she knew nothing of what had happened between her brother and her best friend, or she'd have said so. She never pulled her punches.

"Even the most reclusive person can fall victim to a determined reporter," Ivy said in his defense. "Maybe the photographer caught him at a weak moment."

"Maybe he's giving a public cold shoulder to some woman who's pursuing him, too," Merrie said innocently. "It would be like him. But there hasn't been anybody in his life lately. n.o.body regular, I mean. I'm sure he takes women out. He just doesn't get serious about any of them."

"How did you do on your exam?" Ivy asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"Actually, I pa.s.sed with flying colors, thanks to you."

"You're welcome," came the pert reply. "You can do the same for me when I have my finals."

"That won't be for a while yet. Coming over next weekend?"

Ivy thought quickly. "Merrie, I promised my roommate that I'd drive up to Dallas with her to see her mother. She doesn't like to make that drive alone." It wasn't the whole truth. Lita had asked her to go, and Ivy had promised to think about it. Now, she was sure that she'd agree.

"Well, it's nice of you to do it." There was a pause. "I'm not going to be able to come home much, once I take the job I've been offered at the hospital here. I'll be working twelve-hour shifts four days a week, and a lot of them will be on weekends."

"I understand," Ivy said quickly, thankful that she wouldn't have to come up with so many excuses to escape seeing Stuart again. "When I graduate, I'll be doing some weekend work myself, I'm sure. But when I can afford a car, I can drive up to see you and we can go to a movie or out to eat or something."

"Of course we can." There was a pause. "Ivy, is anything wrong?"

"No," she said at once. "The lawyer is ready to hand over Dad's estate to Rachel. I'm to get a small lump sum. Maybe Rachel will leave me alone now."

"I hope so. Please keep in touch," Merrie added.

"I will," Ivy agreed. But she crossed her fingers. It was suddenly imperative that she find a way to avoid Stuart from now on. She couldn't afford to let her heart settle on him again, especially now that he'd made his own feelings brutally clear. She'd miss Merrie, but the risk was too great. Broken hearts, she a.s.sured herself, were best avoided.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Two years later...

"IVY, would you like a cup of coffee while you work?" her latest client asked from the doorway of the office where she was writing checks and balancing bank statements.

She looked up from her work, smiling, her long blond hair neatly pinned on top of her head. Her green eyes twinkled. "I'd love one, if it isn't too much trouble," she said.

Marcella smiled back. "I just made a pot. I'll bring it in."

"Thanks."

"It's no trouble at all, really. You've saved me from bankruptcy!"

"Not really. I just discovered that you had more money than you thought you did," she replied.

The older woman chuckled. "You say it your way, I'll say it mine. I'll bring the coffee."

Ivy contemplated the nice office she was using and the amazing progress she'd made in the past two years since her disastrous weekend at Merrie's house. She'd been able to give up the part-time job at the garage when Dorie Hart offered her a bookkeeping service, complete with clients. Dorie had enjoyed the work very much, and she'd kept handling the books for her clients long after her marriage to Corrigan Hart. But her growing family kept her too busy to continue with it. Ivy had been a gift from heaven, Dorie told her laughingly. Now she could leave her clients in good hands and retire with a clear conscience.

Dorie had some wonderful accounts. There was a boutique owner, a budding architect, the owner of a custom beef retail shop, an exercise gym and about a dozen other small businesses in Jacobsville. Ivy had met the businesspeople while she was in her last semester of college, when Dorie had approached her with the proposal. Dorie and Lita, who car-pooled with Ivy, were friends. Lita had mentioned Ivy's goals and Dorie had gone to see her at the boardinghouse. It had been an incredible stroke of good luck. Ivy had resigned herself to working in a C.P.A. firm. Now she was a business-woman in her own right.

And as if her blessings hadn't multiplied enough, she'd also volunteered to do the occasional article for the Jacobs County Cattlemen's a.s.sociation in what little free time she had. She would have done it as a favor to the Harts, since Corrigan was this year's president, but they wouldn't hear of it. She got a check for anything she produced. Like her math skills, her English skills were very good.

Merrie was nursing at a big hospital in San Antonio. The two spoke on the phone at least twice a month, but they stayed too busy for socializing. Ivy had never told her friend what had happened that last night she spent under Stuart's roof. She never asked about Stuart, either. Merrie seemed to sense that something had gone wrong, but she didn't pry. She didn't talk about her brother, either.

Autumn turned the leaves on the poplars and maples beautiful shades of gold and scarlet. Ivy felt restless, as if something was about to change in her life. She did her job and tried not to think about Stuart York, but always in the back of her mind was the fear of something unseen and unheard. A premonition.

There was a party to benefit a local animal shelter, which Shelby Jacobs had organized. Ivy wouldn't have gone, but Sheriff Hayes Carson was on the committee that had planned the party, and he was showing an increasing interest in Ivy.

She didn't know if she liked it or not. She was fond of Hayes, but her heart didn't do cartwheels when he was around. Maybe that was a good thing.

When he showed up at her boardinghouse late one Friday afternoon, she sat on the porch swing with him. Her room contained little more than a bed and a vanity, and she was uncomfortable taking a man there. Hayes seemed to know that, because he sat down in the swing with no hesitation at all.

"We're having the benefit dance next Friday night," he told her. "Go with me."

She laughed nervously. "Hayes, I haven't danced in years. I'm not sure I even remember how."

His dark eyes twinkled. "I'll teach you."

She studied him with pursed lips. He really was a dish. He had thick blond hair that the sun had streaked, and a lean, serious face. His dark eyes were deep-set, heavy browed. His uniform emphasized his muscular physique. He was built like a rodeo rider, tall, with wide shoulders, narrow hips and long, powerful legs. Plenty of single women around Jacobsville had tried to land him. None had succeeded. He was the consummate bachelor. He seemed immune to women. Most of the time, he looked as if he had no sense of humor at all. He rarely smiled. But he could be charming when he wanted to, and he was turning on the charm now.

Ivy hadn't been asked out in months, and the man who'd asked had a reputation that even Merrie knew about, and Merrie didn't live at home anymore.

Having turned down the potential risk, Ivy kept to herself. Now Hayes was asking her to a dance. She walked around in jeans. She looked and acted like a tomboy. She frowned.

"Come on," he coaxed. "All work and no play will run you crazy."

"You ought to know," she tossed back. "Didn't you take your last vacation day four years ago?"

He chuckled deeply. "I guess so. I love my job."

"We all noticed," she said. "Between you and Cash Grier, drug dealers have left trails of fire behind them running for the border."

"We've got a good conviction rate," he had to admit. "What's holding you back? Nursing a secret pa.s.sion for someone hereabouts?"

She laughed. It was half true, but she wasn't admitting it. "Not really," she said. "But I'm not used to socializing. I didn't even do it in college."

He frowned. "I know why you don't date, Ivy," he said unexpectedly. "You can't live in the past. And not every man is like your father."

Her face closed up. Her hands clenched in her lap. She stared out at the horizon, trying not to let the memories eat at her consciousness. "My mother used to say that she thought he was a perfect gentleman before they married. They went together for a year before she married him. And then she discovered how brutal a man he really was. She was pregnant, and she had no place to go."

He caught one of her small hands in his big one. "He was an outsider," he reminded her. "He moved here from Nevada. n.o.body knew much about him. But you know people in Jacobsville." He pursed his lips. "I daresay you know all about me."

That droll tone surprised her into laughing. "Well, yes, I do. Everybody does. The only brutal thing about you is your temper, and you don't hit people unless they hit you first."

"That's right. So you'd be perfectly safe with me for one evening."

She sighed. "You're hard to refuse."

"You'll have fun. So will I. Come on," he coaxed. "We'll help add some kennel s.p.a.ce to the animal shelter and give people something to gossip about."

"It would be fun," she came back. "You don't date anybody locally."

He shrugged. "I like my own company too much. Besides," he said ruefully, "there's Andy. He stunts my social life."

She shivered. "I'm not going home with you," she pointed out.

"I know. I haven't found a single woman who will." He sighed resignedly. "He's really very tame. He's a vegetarian. He won't even eat a mouse."

"It won't work. Your scaly roommate is going to keep you single, just like Cag Hart's did."

"I've had him for six years," he said. "He's my only pet."

"Good thing. He'd eat any other pet you brought home."

He scowled. "He's a vegetarian."

"Are you sure? Have any dogs or cats disappeared on your place since you got him?" she teased.

He made a face at her. "It's silly to be afraid of a vegetarian. It's like being afraid of a cow!"

Her eyebrows arched. "Andy doesn't look like any cow I ever saw," she retorted. "His picture was on the front page of the paper when you took him to that third grade cla.s.s to teach them about herpetology. I believe there was some talk about barring you from cla.s.srooms...?"

He glowered. "He wasn't trying to attack that girl. She was the tallest kid in the room, and he tried to climb her, that's all."

She had to fight laughter. "I'll bet you won't take him out of the cage at a grammar school ever again," she said.

"You can bet on that," he agreed. He frowned thoughtfully. "I expect he'll have a terror of little girls for the rest of his life, poor old thing."