LITMIR.BIZ

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to the aching protest her body was making. At least the trip up the stairs was more tolerable than she’d anticipated—and a whole lot easier than going up them under her own power—but she hated being treated like an invalid.

      Since the house was almost dark from the late afternoon storm, Chase paused at the top of the stairs to switch on the hall lights before he strode on to the master bedroom. It was her bedroom, and of course he knew where it was, thanks to Margie’s desperation all those months ago. He walked straight to the bathroom and flipped on the light in there.

      Fay could hardly wait for him to put her down and leave. Once he did, she’d lock the door and have a good long soak in the tub. Short of breaking down the door, Chase would have to go away. Eventually. He sat her down, then bent to take off her boots.

      She bit her lip at the added pain that caused, though it was obvious Chase had tried to be gentle.

      “Okay, thanks,” she said when he’d set her boots aside.

      Chase straightened and glared down at her. For the first time, Fay allowed herself to look directly into his face and meet his blue gaze.

      Chase Rafferty was a man’s man, big, wide-shouldered, his lean, thick-muscled build made powerful by hard work. It was a long way for her to look up and it hurt to do it now. She tried not to notice for the millionth time that he wasn’t classically handsome, that his kind of handsomeness was the rugged, enduring kind. The man would still be making heads turn and hearts skip at ninety, and she was glad she’d lost interest.

      “I can take care of things from here,” she told him. “The worst of the storm should pass soon, maybe before I’m even done in here, so you can go on home.”

      It wasn’t a subtle hint to clear out ASAP, and Chase’s response wasn’t subtle, either.

      “I’m not goin’ anywhere till I take you to town. There’s too much lightning for anything but a quick shower, so let’s do something about those clothes. You’re soaked through.”

      He started to lean down again, but she held up a shaky hand to ward him off.

      “I can undress myself,” she insisted, in no mood to allow that. She was neither feeble nor helpless. “Wait outside the door if you must, but leave.”

      Chase was still leaning down, so she added, “And check the weather. For all we know, that funnel cloud touched down and is on its way here.”

      “You’ve still got lights,” he pointed out, but he straightened, finally getting the message that she could take care of herself. “I’ll be close if you get into trouble.”

      Guilt over her bad manners was the only thing that kept her from being more rude than she’d already been. That and the fact that he was finally going away.

      “Fine.”

      “Fine,” he mocked, though his blue eyes were burning sternly into hers, as if he was trying to discern how capable she really was of taking care of herself once she was alone.

      He must have decided she could handle things herself, because he moved to the door. He turned to pull it shut on his way out before he paused.

      “Don’t lock this.” The emphasis was on don’t, and she felt her last nerve snap.

      “Don’t tell me what to do in my own house,” she said hotly, and what passed for a faint smile sneaked over his stern mouth before he closed the door.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ABOUT five seconds after she’d wrestled off her jeans and dropped them next to the tub, Fay remembered the sorrel.

      She never neglected her animals, never, just as she never exposed them to foolish risks. The fact that she’d done both to the sorrel today made her queasy with remorse. Her foolishness with the storm had surely broken the horse’s trust, and it shamed her to realize she had no idea if he’d made it back to the stable or if he was still loose, or worse, injured.

      Appalled at herself, Fay moved gingerly to the bathroom door and opened it a crack to look out into her bedroom. Chase was standing at the window, his back to her as he stared out at the storm. It had arrived at the headquarters full force, and the bedroom windows were gray with rain. The blur of movement beyond the glass was because the branches of the big shade trees out back were rocking in the wind.

      Chase had the bedroom extension phone in his hand, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. When he hung up, Fay called out.

      “Would you mind handing me the phone? I need to call the stable office.”

      Chase turned toward her. “I just did. Riley said to tell you the sorrel’s back. He came in just before they saw my truck go by.”

      “Then he’s okay?”

      “Far as Riley could tell.”

      The somber way he said it shamed her for putting the horse at risk in the first place, and her guilt multiplied. She retreated a little more behind the door and hastily changed the subject.

      “If the storm doesn’t let up soon, help yourself to coffee downstairs. It’s fresh made, but in the thermos.”

      She didn’t tell him about the hot food Margie would have left in the oven because she hoped he wouldn’t be here long enough to eat. That’s when she remembered he’d gotten wet, too. “Help yourself to a towel in the downstairs bathroom,” she added. “There might be a dry T-shirt in the laundry room that’ll fit. Or toss your shirt in the drier for a few minutes.”

      Fay closed the door, relieved to shut him out and shut out the subject of the sorrel. At least she’d bossed him enough to demonstrate she was anything but a candidate for the emergency room, but as she finished undressing, she realized how weak she was.

      Reddish-purple bruises already marked her shoulder, hip, and outer thigh. They’d be worse tomorrow, but she’d had bruises before so she wasn’t impressed. It was the headache and the growing muscle aches beneath the bruises that would cause the most inconvenience.

      Fay stepped carefully into the shower and drew the curtain. Her hands trembled a little as she twisted on the faucets and adjusted the temperature. Hampered by her aching shoulder and arm, she clumsily soaped and rinsed, then washed her hair before she stood under the jet of hot water and let the heat soothe her neck, shoulder and hip for a few moments.

      Dizziness made her give up on daring a long soak in the tub, so she turned off the water and reached for a towel to dry off. She did what she could about drying her hair with another towel, careful of the painful lump on the side of her head. Finally she wrapped up in a robe and opened the door to peek into the bedroom.

      Chase was gone. As she hobbled out, she could hear the increasing intensity of the storm, not surprised to see that the trees outside her window were swaying harder in the unnatural darkness. Hail pounded the roof and some of it pelted the glass.

      It aggravated her to get dressed again, but there was no way she could go downstairs in a robe while Chase was here. She collected a few clothes and stepped back into the bathroom to dress in privacy. After a pulling on fresh underwear, jeans and a baggy cotton shirt to conceal the fact that her arm and shoulder were too sore to manage a bra, she felt worn-out.

      It was probably hunger and fatigue more than the fall that made her weak, and maybe the strong emotion at the boundary fence played a part in her weariness now. Since she’d feel better with dry hair, she reached for the blow drier. It was a good thing she was wearing her hair short these days because the small chore was as painful as it was awkward.

      By the time she was finished, the sounds of the storm had eased. With any luck, she’d be able to get rid of Chase soon, but the idea failed to revive her. In fact, she felt strangely let down.

      A sudden neediness went through her, bringing back the memory of hearing her brothers’ voices. She still didn’t understand those moments by the boundary fence, but the sudden craving to catch at least a wisp of that familiar,

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