She lay shocked, gasping, as she realized how far they'd gone. She jackknifed, quickly righting her clothing, shivering with denied pleasure. She got to her feet, shaking, and looked away while she fought to get her breath. She was horrified at her own lack of control. It had been so close!

She swallowed, hard, and then swallowed again. She couldn't force herself to look at him, although she heard him get to his feet, heard his own rasping breath as he worked to regain the control he'd lost.

After a minute, she heard a rough curse break from his throat as he looked at her stiff back.

"So that's your game, is it?" he asked coldly. "You'd like a child, would you? I don't suppose you're taking any sort of preventative. You seduce the boss, there's a child and you're set for life. That how it works?"

She turned, shocked. She stared at him with stark embarrassment and averted her eyes. She was flushed and sick at heart. "I...wasn't thinking at all."

"Obviously you were," he said coldly. He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Good try. But I'm no novice with your sex, and I'm no easy mark."

"It wasn't like that." She faltered, flushing even more.

He gave her a long and very insulting look. "Sure." He picked up his hat from where he'd tossed it, dusted it off, slanted it over his eyes and went to find his horse, which had wandered off to eat green grass. He mounted and turned the horse. He stared at her, but she didn't look at him, or answer him. She went to get back on her own mount and rode away without another word.

She was going to have to leave. She knew it certainly. Mallory had made his opinion of her quite clear. What was unclear was why he'd suddenly started kissing her like that. She hadn't asked for it. Or had she? Her obvious attraction to him was going to be disastrous. He was already suspicious of her, thanks to his girlfriend. She'd blurted out that embarrassing comment and now he was surely going to think she was some gold digger.

Her subconscious must be working overtime, she decided, because she had no conscious thought of starting a family. But to have a child, with a man like Mallory, who was so masculine and attractive...

And bullheaded and suspicious-minded and unkind, she added hotly to herself. Of course she wanted a child from a man like that!

Actually, in her young life, she'd never known passion or such hunger; she'd never thought of marrying and having children. She'd thought herself in love with the persistent accountant until she found out his true motives for courting her. But now she knew there had been nothing at all to that relationship. And he'd pressed her to sleep with him. He'd even said they had no need for birth control, because he wanted children with her. Somehow, she'd had the sense to deny him.

Mallory was thinking the exact same thing about her that she'd thought about her would-be lover. The accountant, she still couldn't bring herself to say his name even silently, had wanted to trap her into marriage. Mallory thought Morie was up to the same underhanded game. It was humiliating.

She should have had more control of herself. It was just that he was heaven to kiss. And kissing had so quickly not been enough to satisfy either of them. If she hadn't opened her mouth to say something so shocking, if he hadn't pulled back in time...

She flushed, remembering how sweet it had been. She couldn't allow that to happen again. Not that she'd be around long enough. She'd started trouble with the brothers, innocently, setting one against the other. Her presence here was causing problems. She should leave. Now. Today.

Yes. She should. She got back on her horse and started to turn him toward the ranch. But at the last minute, she couldn't force herself to do it. Just a little longer, she promised herself. Just a few more days to look at Mallory from a distance and talk to him and dream of him. What would it hurt?

She started back to the fence line.

SEVERAL DAYS PASSED with no other incidents. Mallory, however, said hardly two words to Morie. He relayed instructions through Darby, who seemed uncomfortable for some reason.

Cane found Morie at the line cabin, where she was spending the day watching for calves to drop. He got off his horse with some little effort and walked up on the porch. Morie was drinking coffee from her thermos and eating a cold, buttered biscuit.

"Hi," she greeted cheerily. "Want to share lunch?" She held out the half-eaten biscuit.

He shook his head. "No, thanks. I just had a thick roast-beef sandwich with homemade French fries."

She groaned and looked at the biscuit. "I knew I wasn't living right."

He smiled. He pushed his wide-brimmed hat back on his head and his dark eyes narrowed. "What's going on between you and Mal?" he asked unexpectedly.

She fumbled and spilled coffee on her jeans. Well, they were dirty anyway. "What...what do you mean?" She faltered, and ruined her poise by flushing.

He pursed his lips. "I see."

"No, you don't," she shot back. "You don't see. There's nothing. Nothing at all!"

"Why, because he's the boss and you're the hired help?" he asked, leaning back against a post. "We aren't royalty."

"You might as well be," she said flatly. "He thinks I'm after his money."

His eyebrows arched. "He does?"

She lowered her eyes to the splash of coffee on her knee. She sipped more coffee. "I'm not," she said with quiet pride, "but it's what he thinks." She looked up. "I'm fairly certain his girlfriend is helping him to think it. She really hates my guts."

"I noticed."

She looked up at him solemnly. "You watch her," she said with sudden passion. "She's pretending to be something she's not."

His eyebrows arched. "And you know this, how...?"

"For one thing, she's wearing last year's colors. For another, the shoes she favors are far out of style. Her jewelry is just as dated, and the purse she carries is couture, but it's not a new one."

His eyebrows arched more. "Excuse me?"

She shifted restlessly and averted her eyes. "I have a friend who models," she lied. It was her mother, who was her closest friend. "I know what's in style and what's not, something Ms. Bruner seems unaware of. I suppose she thinks men don't follow fashion and wouldn't know." She met his gaze. "She's trying to pose as a socialite, but something's not right about her. Want some advice? Get a private detective to do just a surface check of her background. I'm betting you'd find something interesting."

"Why don't you tell Mal?" he asked.

She laughed coldly. "Oh, sure, he'd listen to me. He already thinks I'm a gold-digging opportunist."

He sighed. "You're not what you're pretending to be, either, are you?"

She smiled wryly. "No," she confessed. "But I'm an honest person. I'm not hiding from the law or contemplating breaking it. Actually, I have a cousin who's a Texas Ranger. I've known him and looked up to him since I was able to walk. He'd disown me if I did anything criminal. So would my parents."

"Why are you working here?"

"You'd be surprised," she assured him.

"I might be, at that." He hesitated. "Want me to go ride fence with you? I've got some free time. That killer is still on the loose." He sobered. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

She was pleasantly surprised at his protective attitude. "Thanks," she said and meant it. "But I'm fine. I've got the cell phone the boss was kind enough to provide, and I've got a gun that Darby loaned me. I'll be fine."

He regarded her quizzically. "Okay, then. I'll leave you to it. A cold biscuit. You call that lunch?"

She sighed. "It's a lovely biscuit. Mavie made them for me."

"She's a super cook."

"Yes, she is. Thanks again," she added as he mounted his horse and started to ride off.

"You're welcome."