LITMIR.BIZ

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to the house, then let the water in the shower sluice over his tired body. Heat steamed into his knotted muscles, relaxing them a notch.

      He didn’t like lying to Ellen, but after all she’d gone through, she wouldn’t welcome him here. And what he’d seen in her pasture tonight made the threat to her safety real enough. Bancroft wanted his horses back and his actions said he’d use any means to reach his goal. Kevin figured his presence here evened the odds.

      But being near her without touching her, kissing her, holding her was a torture he hadn’t anticipated. The hum he’d always felt when she was close sang through him in sweet agony. Walking that fine line between protecting her and hurting her would require all of Nina’s lessons. Already, he was falling short. The anger he’d learned to tamp down with Nina’s example was seeping out of its locked box and poisoning his blood.

      Never lie to a horse.

      “It can’t be helped. Besides, she’s not a horse. I’m just here to watch her back.”

      Never lie to yourself.

      He brushed away the ping to his conscience. A bottle of pink shower gel, resting in a caddie beneath the showerhead, caught his attention. He reached for it. As he sniffed, the subtle scent he’d noticed on Ellen’s skin filled him. He turned the bottle over and read the ingredients. “Essence of moonflower.”

      That suited her. She, too, had managed to bloom where there was no light. He’d always admired that quality in her. Her resilience had attracted him more than her beauty, more than her gentleness, more than her skill as a rider. And that quality had also made it easier to abandon her.

      When he’d woken up in a torture of pain from his fractured bones, when he’d realized he was responsible for his own brother’s death, he’d thought she’d be better off without him. She’ll survive the heartache, he’d told himself as he’d glimpsed his broken face in the mirror. She’d go on to become the horse doctor she’d dreamed of becoming. She’d find someone else to love her and have the family she’d always wanted.

      Fifteen years of near vegetation. The horror of it wouldn’t stop haunting him.

      Sharply, he cut off the stream of water. He dried off, dressed and hurried back to the barn.

      From the door he watched Ellen as she readied her charges for the night. She inspected every horse, giving each a kind word. She made sure each was safe.

      An orange cat perched on a stall door groomed itself. Blue seemed to have overcome his shyness and followed Ellen from horse to horse, head cocked toward the sound of her voice.

      The sweetness of her smile notched at his heart. He relished the tenderness in her voice. He ached for the soft touch of her hands.

      Then she noticed him and the soothing vision transformed into the picture of wariness.

      “There’s a cot and some linens.” She pointed toward the tack room. “The hayloft might be too hot, but there’s an empty stall. Or the tack room, but the window’s stuck. I’ll be here at six for the morning feed.”

      No doubt meaning his sorry butt better be ready to work by then. That was all right. He knew he had to prove himself to her.

      She brushed by him, giving him one last whiff of exotic moonflowers. He saw her lock the doors to her house, latch every window and check them twice. Air-conditioning would come in handy in a house closed so tight.

      He shifted uneasily.

      If she never knew, then his lie couldn’t hurt her. He’d laid the facts straight out. When the job was done, he’d leave.

      Her trials had put a hard edge in her eyes, fear in her bones. She’d survived only to have her new dream tested. Was it a wonder she softened, lit up and let down her guard only for the horses?

      Love, not fear, should be her nightly companion. But it wasn’t his place to show her. He’d lost that chance sixteen years ago when he’d let his temper rule his actions.

      Blue danced around him. The dog crouched with his front legs extended, rear up. The soft noise in his throat said, “Let’s play.” When he got no response, he sat in front of Kevin with one paw slightly raised. Absently, Kevin petted the dog’s head.

      Troubled, he turned away from the snug little house and the woman for which he had no right to care.

      His duty now was to keep Ellen safe. Nothing more.

      THROUGH THE BLINDS’ SLATS, Ellen sensed her new ranch hand’s attention. Kevin’s rugged silhouette against the light in the barn stirred something inside her. The sensation fascinated her and frightened her.

      After Kyle’s death, after the horror of being nearly killed by Garth, she never thought she’d be interested in another man.

      She tugged the rope, snapping the slats into place, and erased her view of the barn. “Not that I’m interested.”

      But as she showered, she couldn’t help wondering just how gentle the touch of his hands was, how warm his lips would feel, how seductive his whispers would be. The scars should distract from his appeal, but somehow they didn’t.

      Get a grip, Ellen. You heard him. He’s a drifter. No fencing him in. He works for himself. He doesn’t stay long in any one place. You need another cowboy in your life like you need a hole in the head. And the hole would probably do you more good. At least the memories of Kyle could finally drain away.

      Luci had trusted Kevin with an ease she rarely showed the human race. She’d eaten oats out of his hands as if he were a long-lost friend. While they fed, shy Calliope had demanded her share of attention when he’d spent too much time with Pandora. Even gruff Titan had minded his manners. Hercules had allowed him to change his bandage without the usual half hour of coaxing. And Perseus had let him handle his ears without much of a fuss.

      He was gentle yet firm. He was open with the horses in a way she sensed he wasn’t with her. He confused her and she didn’t like that. Shaking her head, she slipped into bed.

      Sleep would not come. The soft tick tick of the clock on her bedside table failed to lull her into dreams. The slip of ocean tides on the soothing melody of a cello playing Pachelbel’s Canon fell short of their usual relaxation effect. The complete darkness didn’t trick her brain into slumber. She spent the night restlessly shifting to the imagined sound of Kevin’s tantalizing whispers.

      Then the whispers turned into threats as snakes of barbed wire and frayed rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles, tying her down. She staggered through the dark, spitting out the horsetail stuffed in her mouth. The horses’ desperate whinnies echoed all around her. She tried to yell. She tried to fight. One by one the horses were led by her and into a black hole where their cries died unanswered.

      Her heart pounded and pounded until finally her muddled mind realized the noise was coming not from inside her chest but from the kitchen door.

      Blinking madly, she sprang out of bed and fell to one knee. Something was wrong. The horses. She had to get to the horses. Swearing, she reached for clothes and hobbled into them as she made her way across the room.

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