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  Mari pushed back her hair. It was short now, a twenties-style pageboy with bangs, and it emphasized the rosy oval of her face. She was wearing a simple dropped-waist dres in blue-and-white stripes and carrying only a roly-poly piece of luggage, which contained barely enough clothes to get her through one week. A tal man at racted her interest, and despite the shynes she felt with most men, she studied him blatantly, He was as big as the side of a barn, tal with rippling muscles and bristling with backcountry masculinity. Wearing a gray suit, an open-necked white shirt and a pearly gray Stetson and boots, he looked big and mean and sexy. The angle of that hat over his black hair was as arrogant as the look on his deeply tanned face, as intimidating as that confident stride that made people get out of his way. He would have made the perfect hero for Mari's book. The strong, tender man who would lead her damaged heroine back to happines again.. He didn't look at anyone except Mari, and after a few seconds she realized that he was coming toward her. She clutched the lit le carryal tightly as he stopped just in front of her, and in spite of her height she had to look up to see his eyes. They were green and cold. Ice-cold.

  "Marianne Raymond," he said as if she'd damned wel bet er be. He set her temper smoldering with that confident drawl. She lifted her chin. "That's right," she replied just as quietly. "Are you from Three Forks Ranch?"

  "I am Three Forks Ranch," he informed her, reaching for the carryal . "Let's go."

  "Not one step," she said, refusing to release it and glaring at him. "Not one single step until you tel ine who you are and where we're going." His eyebrows lifted. They were straight and thick like the lashes over his green eyes. "I'm Ward Jes up," he said. "I'm taking you to your Aunt Lil ian." He controlled his temper with a visible effort as he registered her shocked expres ion and reached for his wal et, flashing it open to reveal his driver's license. "Satisfied?" he drawled and then felt ashamed of himself when he knew why she had reason to be so cautious and nervous of him.

  "Yes, thank you," she said. That was Ward Jes up? That was a dying man? Dazed, she let him take the carryal and followed him out of the airport. He had a car—a big Chrysler with burgundy leather seats and controls that seemed to do everything, right up to speaking firmly to the pas engers about fastening their seat belts.

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  "I've never seen such an animal," she commented absently as she fastened her seat belt, trying to be a lit le les hostile. He'd asked for it, but she had to remember the terrible condition that the poor man was in. She felt guilty about her bad manners.

  "It's a honey," he remarked, starting the engine. "Have you eaten?"

  "Yes, on the plane, thank you," she replied. She folded her hands in her lap and was quiet until they reached the straight open road. The meadows were alive with colorful wildflowers of orange and red and blue, and prickly pear cacti. Mari also noticed long stretches of land where there were no houses and few trees, but endles fences and cat le everywhere.

  "I thought there was oil everywhere in Texas," she murmured, staring out at the landscape and the sparse houses.

  "What do you think those big metal gras hoppers are?" he asked, glancing at her as he sped down the road. She frowned. "Oil wel s? But where are the big metal things that look like the Eiffel Tower?"

  He laughed softly to himself. "My God. Eastern tenderfoot," he chided. "You put up a derrick when you're hunting oil, honey, you don't keep it on stripper wel s. Those damned things cost money."

  She smiled at him. "I'l bet you weren't born knowing that, either, Mr. Jes up," she said.

  "I wasn't." He leaned back and set led his huge frame comfortably.

  He sure does look healthy for a dying man, Mari thought absently.

  "I worked on rigs for years before I ever owned one."

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  "That's very dangerous work, isn't it?" she asked conversational y. "So they say."

  She studied his very Roman profile, wondering if anyone had ever painted him. Then she realized that she was staring and turned her at ention to the landscape. It was spring and the trees looked mis hapen and gloriously soft feathered with leaves.

  "What kind of trees are those, anyway?" she asked.

  "Mesquite," he said. "It's al over the place at the ranch, but don't ever go grabbing at its fronds. It's got long thorns everywhere."

  "Oh, we don't have mesquite in Georgia," she commented, clasping her purse.

  "No, just peach trees and magnolia blossoms and dainty lit le cat le farms."

  She glared at him. "In Atlanta we don't have dainty lit le cat le farms, but we do have a very sophisticated tourism busines and quite a lot of foreign investors."

  "Don't tangle with me, honey," he advised with a sharp glance. "I've had a hard morning, and I'm just not in the mood for verbal fencing."

  "I gave up obeying adults when I became one," she replied.

  His eyes swept over her dismis ively. "You haven't. Not yet."

  "I'l be twenty-two this month," she told him shortly.

  "I was thirty-five last month," he replied without looking her way. "And, to me, you'd stil be a kid if you were four years older."

  "You poor, old, decrepit thing," she murmured under her breath. It was get ing harder and harder to feel sorry for him. 22

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  "What an interesting houseguest you're going to make, Mis Raymond," he observed as he drove down the interstate. "I'l have to arrange some razor-blade soup to keep your tongue properly sharpened.'

  "I don't think I like you," she said shortly.

  He glared back. "I don't like women," he replied and his voice was as cold as his eyes.

  She wondered if he knew why she'd come and decided that Aunt Lil ian had probably told him everything. She averted her face to the window and gnawed on her lower hp. She was being deliberately antagonistic, and her upbringing bristled at her lack of manners. He'd asked Lil ian to bring her out to Texas; he'd even paid for her ticket. She was supposed to cheer him up, to help him write his memoirs, to make his last days happier. And here she was being rude and unkind and treating him like a bad-tempered old tyrant.

  "I'm sorry," she said after a minute.

  "What?"

  "I'm sorry," she repeated, unable to look at him. "You let me come here, you bought my ticket, and al I've done since I got off the plane is be sarcastic to you. Aunt Lil ian told me al about it, you know," she added enigmatical y, ignoring the puzzled expres ion on his face. "I'l do everything I can to make you glad you've brought me here. I'l help you out in every way I can. Wel ," she amended, "in most ways. I'm not real y very comfortable around men," she added with a shy smile. He relaxed a lit le, although he didn't smile. His hand cares ed the steering wheel as he drove. "That's not hard to understand," he said after a minute, and she gues ed that her aunt had told him about her strict upbringing. "But I'm the last man on earth you'd have to worry about in that particular respect. My women know the score, and they aren't that prolific these days. I don't have any interest in girls your age. You're just a baby."

  Annoying, unnerving, infuriating man, she thought uncharitably, surprised by his statement. She looked toward him hesitantly, her eyes quiet and steady on his dark face. "Wel , I've never had any interest in bad^ tempered old men with oil wel s," she said with dry humor. "That ought to reas ure you as wel , Mr. Jes up, sir."

  "Don't be cheeky," he murmured with an amused glance. "I'm not that old."

  "I'l bet your joints creak," she said under her breath.

  He laughed. "Only on cold mornings," he returned. He pulled into the road that led to Three Forks and slowed down long enough to turn and stare into her soft blue eyes. "Tel you what, kid, you be civil to me and I'l be civil to you, and we'l never let people gues what we real y think of each other. Okay?"

  "Okay," she returned, eager to humor him. Poor man!

  His green eyes narrowed. "Pity, about your age and that experience," he commented, let ing his gaze wander over her face. "You're
uncommon. Like your aunt."

  "My aunt is the reincarnation of General Pat on," she said. She wondered what experience he meant. "She could win wars if they'd give her a uniform."

  "I'l amen that," he said.

  "Thanks for driving up to get me," she added. "I appreciate it."

  "I didn't know how you'd feel about a strange cowboy," he said gently. "Although we don't know each other exactly, I knew that Lil ian's surely mentioned me and figured you'd be a bit more comfortable."

  "I was." She didn't tel him how Lil ian had described him as At ila the Hun in denim and leather.

  "Don't tel her we've been arguing," he said unexpectedly as he put the car back in gear and drove up to the house. "It'l upset her. She stammered around for a half hour and even threatened to quit before she got up the nerve to suggest your visit."

  "Bles her old heart." Mari sighed, feeling touched. "She's quite a lady, my aunt. She real y cares about people."

  "Next to my grandmother, she's the only woman that I can tolerate under my roof."

  "Is your grandmother here?" she asked as they reached a huge cedarwood house with acres of windows and balconies.

  "She left last week, thank God," he said heavily. "One more day of her and I'd have left and so would Lil ian. She's too much like me. We only get along for short stretches."

  "I like your house," she remarked as he opened the door for her.

  "I don't, but when the old one burned down, my sister was going with an architect who gave us a good bid." He glared at the house. "I thought he was a smart boy. He turned out to be one of those innovative New Wave builders who like to experiment. The damned bathrooms have sunken tubs and Jacuzzis, and there's an indoor stream. . Oh, God, what a nightmare of a house if you sleepwalk! You could drown in the living room or be swept off into the river." She couldn't help laughing. He sounded horrified. "Why didn't you stop him?" she asked.

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  "I was in Canada for several months," he returned. He didn't elaborate. This strange woman didn't need to know that he'd gone into the wildernes to heal after Caroline's betrayal and that he hadn't cared what replaced the old house after lightning had struck and set it afire during a storm.

  "Wel , it's not so bad," she began but was interrupted when Lil ian exploded out of the house, arms outstretched. Mari ran into them, feeling safe for the first time in weeks.

  "Oh, you look wonderful," Lil ian said with a sigh. "How are you? How was the trip?"

  "I'm fine, and it was very nice of Mr. Jes up to come and meet me," she said politely. She turned, nodding toward him. "Thanks again. I hope the trip didn't tire you too much?"

  "What?" he asked blankly.

  "I told Mari how hard you'd been working lately, boss," Lil ian said quickly. "Come on, honey, let's go inside!"

  "I'l bring the bag," Ward said curiously and followed them into the rustic but modern house.

  Mari loved it. It was big and rambling and there was plenty of room everywhere. It was just the house for an outdoorsman, right down to the decks that overlooked the shade trees around the house.

  "I think this place is perfect for Ward, but for heaven's sake, don't tel him that! And please don't let on that you know about his condition," Lil ian added, her eyes wary. "You didn't say anything about it?" she asked, showing Mari through the ultramodern upstairs where her bedroom overlooked the big pool below and the flat landscape beyond, fenced and cross-fenced with mil ing cat le.

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  "Oh, no, Scout's honor," Mari said. "But how am I going to help him write his memoirs?"

  "We'l work up to it in good time," Lil ian as ured her. "He, uh, didn't ask why you came?" Mari sighed. "He seemed to think I'd asked to come. Odd man, he thought I was afraid of him. Me, afraid of men, isn't that a scream? Especial y after what Beth and I did at that al -night department store."

  "Don't ever tel him, please," Lil ian pleaded. "It would.. .upset him. We mustn't do that," she added darkly. "It could be fatal!"

  "I won't, truly I won't," Mari promised. "He sure is healthy looking for a dying man, isn't he?"

  "Rugged," Lil ian said. "Real rugged. He'd never let on that he was in pain."

  "Poor brave man," Mari said with a sigh. "He's so tough."

  Lil ian grinned as she turned away.

  "Did his sister like this house?" Mari asked later after she'd unpacked and was helping Lil ian in the kitchen.

  "Oh, yes," Lil ian confided to her niece. "But the boss hates it!"

  "Is his sister like him?" Mari asked.

  "To look at, no. But in temperament, definitely," the older woman told her. "They're both high-strung and mean tempered."

  "You mentioned that he had a male secretary," Mari reminded her as she rolled out a pie crust.

  "Yes. David Meadows. He's young and very efficient, but he doesn't like being cal ed a secretary." Lil ian grinned. "He thinks he's an administrative as istant."

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  "I'l have to remember that."

  "I don't know what the boss would do without him, either," Lil ian continued as she finished quartering the apples for the pie. Another apple pie might soften him up a lit le, she was thinking. "David keeps everything running smoothly around here, from paying the accounts to answering the phone and scheduling appointments. The bos stays on the road most of the time, closing deals. The oil busines is vast these days. Last week he was in Saudi Arabia. Next week he's off to South America."

  "Al that traveling must get tiresome," Mari said, her blue eyes curious. "Isn't it dangerous for him in his condition?" For a moment Lil ian looked hunted. Then she brightened. "Oh, no, the doctor says it's actual y good for him. He takes it easy, and it keeps his mind off things. He never talks about it, though. He's a very private person."

  "He seems terribly cold," Mari remarked thoughtfully.

  "Camouflage," Lil ian as ured her. "He's warm and gentle and a prince of a man," she added. "A prince! Now, get this pie fixed, girl. You make the best pies I've ever tasted, even bet er than my own."

  "Mama taught me," Mari said gently. "I real y mis her sometimes. Especial y in the autumn. We used to go up into the mountains to see the leaves. Dad was always too busy, but Mama and I were adventurous. It's been eight years since she died. And only one since Dad went. I'm glad I stil have you." Lil ian tried not to look touched, but she was. "Get busy," she said gruffly, turning away. "It isn't good to look back." That was true,Mari thought, keeping her own thoughts on the present instead of the past. She felt sad about Ward Jes up ,even if he was a dreadful oilman. She heard her aunt talk about him for so many years that she felt as if she knew him already. If only she could make it through the week without making him angry or adding to his problems. She just wanted to help him, if he'd let her.

  Mari was just going into the other room to cal him when her at ention was caught by the stream running through the room, lit by underwater colored lights. It was eerie and beautiful indoor "landscaping," with plants everywhere and literal y a stream running through the middle of the living room, wide enough to swim in. Not paying much at ention to where she was going, Mari backed along the carpet, only half aware of footsteps, and suddenly collided with something warm and solid. There was a terribly big splash and a furious curse. When she turned around, she felt herself go pale.

  "Oh, Mr. Jes up, I'm sorry," she wailed, burying her cheeks in her hands.

  He was very wet. Not only was he soaked, but there was a lily pad on top of his straight black hair that had been slicked down by al the water. He was standing, and though the water came to his chin, he looked very big and very angry. As he sputtered and blinked, Mari noticed that his green eyes were exactly the shade of the lily pad.

  "Damn you. ." he began as he moved toward the carpeted "shore" with a dangerous look on his dark face. At that moment nobody would have gues ed that he was a dying man. As quick as lightning he was out of the water, dripping o
n the carpet. Suddenly Mari forgot his delicate condition and ran like hel . "Aunt Lil ian!" Mari ran for the kitchen as fast as her slender legs could carry her, a blur in jeans and a white sweatshirt as she darted down the long hal toward the relative safety of the kitchen.

  Behind her, soggy footsteps and curses followed closely.

  "Aunt Lil ian, help!" she cried as she dashed through the swing door.

  She forgot that swing doors tend to swing back when forcibly opened by hysterical people. It slammed back into a tal , wet, cursing man. There was an ominous thud and the sound of shat ering ceramic pieces.

  Lil ian looked at her niece in wide-eyed shock. "Oh, Mari," she said. Her ears told her more than she wanted to know as she stared at the horrified face of her niece. "Oh, Mari."

  "I think Mr. Jes up may need a lit le help, Aunt Lil ian," Mari began hesitantly.

  "Prayer might be more beneficial at the moment, dear," Aunt Lil ian murmured nervously. She wiped her hands on her printed apron and cautiously opened the swing door to peer into the dining room.

  Ward Jes up was just sit ing up among the ruins of his table set ing, china shards surrounding him. His suit was wet, and there was a puddle of water under him as he tugged his enormous frame off the floor. His eyes were blazing in a face that had gone ruddy in anger. He held on to a chair and rose slowly, glaring at Lil ian's half-hidden face with an expres ion that told her there was worse to come.