He stopped in front of her, his hands in his pockets, his shirt carelessly unbuttoned over that thatch of dark curling hair on his bronzed chest. He smelled of cologne and soap, and her eyes helplessly lifted to his clean-shaven face.

  "You don't want me to touch you," he said quietly. "I know that, and I'm not going to. You don't have to have excuses. It doesn't matter."

  "It wasn't... an excuse, exactly," she faltered. She sighed wearily. "I'm so tired."

  "You shouldn't be down here. It's too soon."

  She smiled faintly. "I know. But I couldn't let you go on thinking that your touch repulses me. It's not true, and we've never lied to each other. Not ever."

  He nodded. "What did you mean?" he asked with narrowed eyes as he studied her pale, drawn face.

  She stared straight ahead at his hard chest. Her heartbeat was frantic. "It. . . made me feel strange to think about being . . . being touched so intimately ... by you," she managed in a thin, unsteady voice.

  "I didn't touch you the way I did in Nassau," he murmured. "But I want to, Heather. I want to kiss every soft inch of you, and I want you wide-awake and looking at me when it happens."

  His words conjured up pictures that made her knees tremble. She stared up at him, fear and excited anticipation mingling in her soft blue eyes.

  "Oh. Heather," he murmured softly. "I've hurt you in ways I never meant to. It's going to take time for the wounds to heal, I know that. But don't push me away, baby. Don't shut me out of your life completely. If we can't make it any other way, then let's go back seven years and pick up the threads. I don't want to lose you again."

  He sounded lonely for an instant, but she decided that it must have been a trick of her mind, because his face was as impassive as ever.

  "Then stop trying to make a puppet out of me, Cole," she pleaded softly. "I'm not a child; I have a life of my own, a career that I want very much. Allow me the privilege of being myself. Stop trying to make me over to your specifications."

  He smiled down at her. "Is that what I've been doing?" he asked.

  "Most of my life," she agreed with a hint of tartness. "Incorrigible man."

  He chuckled. "You're pretty incorrigible yourself, Sunflower," he remarked. "So now we're equals, is that what all this is leading up to?"

  "That's right," she agreed.

  He drew a long, deep breath. "You're ask lot from me."

  Her eyes danced. "You wouldn't want to be accused of male chauvinism, now, would you?" she teased.

  "Absolutely not," he returned, laughing. "Come on, I'll walk you back upstairs."

  She followed him out the door and up the steps, and he went slowly, turning back periodically to make sure she was all right. He left her at the door to her room, his face thoughtful.

  "I've got anew foal in the barn. If you're up to it tomorrow, I'll take you down to see him," he told her.

  Her eyes lit up. "I'd love it."

  "Not early," he said. "I've got a meeting at the office with a meat packer."

  "I'll sleep late." She laughed.

  "You need a lot of late mornings and early nights to get rid of those circles under your eyes," he said gently. "And I don't like seeing so little flesh on your bones, either."

  "I'll eat more," she promised, turning away.

  "Sleep well, baby."

  It took an effort to walk into the barn and stroll casually down the aisle to look at Cole's new foal in its spotless stall. Old memories haunted her here.

  Cole hooked his boot over the railing and leaned his forearms on the stall gate to study the wobbly little creature nursing inside.

  "I've named him Jackrabbit," he told her. "He has such long ears and legs, it seems to suit."

  "Yes, it does," she admitted with a smile.

  Her gaze went back to the doorway of the barn, and his eyes followed it. "It seems like a long time ago, doesn't it?" he asked quietly. "I was too rough, but what I was feeling made me that way. I'd been fighting it for a long time."

  She tore her eyes away and let them drop to the wood shavings on the ground. "I think I'd been fighting my feelings for just as long."

  He chuckled softly at the admission. "I went around in a black mood for days after that. You were so young, and I was eaten up with guilt. I hated what I'd done. But the minute I touched you again, all my good intentions went right out the window, and in Nassau ..."

  Heather turned and started toward the door, her heart going mad. She didn't want to think about Nassau. It had been too devastating, and even now she couldn't trust Cole because of it. Not knowing why he'd changed so abruptly, she couldn't be certain he wouldn't seduce her and then be cruel all over again. She couldn't risk it.

  "Heather?"

  She stopped, with her back to him. "Yes?"

  "There was a reason for the way I treated you," he said quietly. "Someday I may even be able to tell you what it was, but right now it wouldn't serve any purpose at all."

  "You were cruel, Cole."

  There was a long pause. "Yes," he agreed in a hunted tone. "I thought I had to be."

  "And I thought there was something special between us," she whispered in a choked tone, "but you made it all too clear that I was mistaken!"

  "Oh, God," he said heavily. "Heather, don't look back. Things are too strained right now to dredge up all the ghosts. Let's just leave the past where it is for now."

  She turned around and stared down the aisle at him. "I can't—I remember too clearly how much you hurt me then, Cole, and I don't think I'll ever forget it." She turned away and walked out of the barn, pausing at the white paddock fence to watch the quarter horses prancing over the green grass.

  Several minutes passed before he came up beside her and spoke again, bringing up a neutral topic of conversation. "I'd like to run breeding stock here," he said, gesturing toward the long stretch of land that rolled off toward the horizon.

  "We could breed racehorses?" she asked.

  He smiled at her. "Would you like that?"

  She shrugged. "I like horses."

  "If we ran that kind of operation, you'd have to come home. You couldn't zip all over the world on tour. I'd have to have someone to help me entertain buyers." He reached out and tugged a short lock of her hair. "You wouldn't like that, would you?"

  She bit her lip and fought for control. The light touch of his fingers had her trembling already. "I. . . I've worked very hard to get where I am."

  "I know," he growled. "God forbid that you should have to live without applause and leering male eyes!"

  "Cole!" she gasped at the anger in his voice.

  He drew in a harsh breath. "I know, I'm not being fair. I don't feel particularly fair." His fingers lingered at her scalp, testing the soft texture of her silky hair. "I don't like it short like this," he murmured. "In Nassau, I remember tangling my hands in it while I made love to you. ..."

  She drew in a sharp breath, finding her eyes held in bondage by his, her heart pounding wildly with emotion.

  "Do you remember how it felt?" he murmured, moving closer so that she could feel the blazing warmth of his body. "Skin against skin, with the breeze from the Caribbean blowing and the sound of the waves. . . . You moaned, but not in pain, remember?"

  Her eyes closed. "Oh, yes, I remember," she whispered achingly, "and I don't want to! Cole, this isn't fair."

  "What I feel isn't fair," he growled, crushing her hand against his broad chest. "You're trying to make me back into some kind of safe older brother, but it won't work; I don't want that kind of relationship with you. Let's get that straight right now."

  Her heart went wild. "What. . . what do you want?"

  His fingers tilted her chin up and he bent, taking her mouth very gently under his hard lips, tasting it softly, sweetly, in a kiss that had nothing of passion in it. She could feel the warmth of his mouth against hers, but he didn't try to force her lips apart or deepen the kiss in any way. He drew back seconds later as if he was afraid of bruising her with even the lightest pressure. "That's what I want," he said quietly.

  She gazed up at him, her eyes full of reawakening dreams and silent fears. "Don't hurt me again, Cole," she whispered.

  "I'll never hurt you again, Heather. Not ever. Give me a second chance."

  "You're asking a lot," she breathed.

  "I know that." His forefinger traced the line of her upper lip. "I've smeared your lipstick."

  She reached in her pocket for her kerchief and dabbed at her mouth as she walked along beside him toward the house. She glanced at him, noting his proud carriage, the arrogance of his straight nose, his glittering eyes. She never tired of looking at him.

  The days went by pleasantly. Cole didn't make another move toward her, but they talked as they rarely had in the past. He took her riding early every morning, and once they reined in at the river where the fog was just rising off the water.

  Cole dismounted, lifting her out of the saddle, and they stood together under a big-rooted oak tree at the water's edge.

  "It's so peaceful here," Heather whispered, not wanting to disturb the almost primeval silence. "As if we're the only two people left in the world."

  "Would it do me any good if we were?" he asked musingly, staring out across the fog-shrouded river to the dim trees beyond.

  "What?" she asked, only half hearing him.

  He leaned back against the huge trunk of the tree and tossed his wide-brimmed hat down beside it on the ground to study her. "Short hair and all," he murmured, "you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. All light and color."

  "That's only the outside, Cole," she reminded him. "How I look isn't what I am."

  "I meant it as a compliment."

  "Oh."

  "Come here, honey." He caught her hand and pulled her in front of him, but she turned away. Holding her gently by the shoulders, he drew her back to him, his fingers tightening when she flinched. "Don't," he ground out, and there was anguish in his voice. "For God's sake, don't. I won't hurt you."

  She closed her eyes, only to open them again with a weary sigh. She let her body relax against the hard strength of his while she watched the ripples in the fog-shrouded river.

  "I'm not used to being touched," she said quietly. She hadn't meant to let that out, but the words slipped past her tight lips.

  His hands loosened a little, but they remained on her upper arms, warm and comforting in the early-morning chill.

  "I'm not too used to it myself anymore," he admitted. His chest rose and fell heavily at her back. "It seems like years since we last stood here. You were about thirteen, weren't you, that day I took you and your friends down the river in a canoe?"

  "And I fell out," she recalled with a laugh. "I was the wettest, most bedraggled thing. And you dragged me onto the bank, cursing a blue streak, your eyes blazing fire at me. . . . Gosh, you were scary, Cole."

  "Scared, too," he chuckled. "I thought I'd lost you for sure. . . . Heather," he began on a more serious note, "I don't want you to be frightened of me ever again. Can't we go back to that night on the beach in Nassau, when you came into my arms without fear, as if you belonged there?"

  She felt a tremor go through her at the words that brought back such aching memories. Her eyes closed involuntarily. "I don't want to remember that night," she said bitterly.

  "Why?" he asked. "It was beautiful, Heather."

  "You know why. Because it all meant nothing to you. I don't want to talk about it!" She tugged against his hands. "Oh, let me go, Cole!"

  "I can't." He turned her and pulled her roughly into his arms. "My whole life seems to have gone up in smoke since we went to the Bahamas, do you know that? I've lost everything I ever cared about, and there doesn't seem to be a chance in hell of getting anything back."

  "You've got Tessa," she said, her voice muffled by the soft cotton front of his shirt.

  "I haven't got her and I don't want her," he said tightly. "I threw her off the property the day before I came to find you, and I promised her if she ever set foot on Big Spur again, she'd regret it!"

  She froze against him. "Cole!"

  His face was like stone when she drew slightly away to look up at him. "Why?" she asked.

  "I can't tell you." His hands moved up to tangle in her soft, wispy curls. "Woman, I've been so lonely without you."

  "You had Big Spur," she reminded him, trying to keep her voice light.

  "Cold comfort," he muttered. He traced the soft line of her mouth with a fingertip while the river gurgled and splashed along the banks. Above them, the leaves were rustling in the early morning breeze and the sun was just beginning to beat down on the water. "Can you forget the past if I ask you to?" he murmured gently. "Can you forgive the things I've said and let me get close to you again?"

  "I've changed ..." she began.

  "We've both changed," he corrected. His eyes searched hers. "We'll go slow. We'll have to. But I want to get to know you again. And God knows, staying here a few weeks will give you a badly needed break." His lips compressed. "Or can't you live without your big time journalist that long?"

  She wasn't going to tell him that she had never loved Gil Austin. She couldn't bear for him to know. "I can live without him," she said. Cole looked older, weary. Involuntarily, her fingers went up to touch the hollows under his silver eyes. "You look so tired," she murmured.

  He caught her hand and pressed its soft palm to his lips. "I haven't been sleeping well," he said noncommittally. "Stay with me."

  The way he phrased it made her pulse leap unexpectedly. She had felt numb inside for so long that it was a shock to find she had any emotions left in her. "I'll stay . . . for a week or so," she agreed finally.

  His eyes dropped suddenly to her mouth. "Not on a strictly Platonic basis?" he murmured, bending his dark head.

  She felt his warm breath on her mouth and her lips parted involuntarily. "Well. . ." she whispered uncertainly.

  "Maybe ... on a slightly Platonic basis?" he whispered, touching his mouth lightly to hers. "A few . . . very soft kisses?"

  His words were drugging her. "A ... a few kisses?" she murmured dazedly, her eyes on his parted lips.

  "Umhmm," he murmured, shifting so that he was leaning back against the tree with her slender body resting fully on his. He bent to brush his mouth against hers lazily. He lifted bis head and studied her quietly, glancing past her at the river. "I've always loved this spot," he said absently. "Especially early in the morning like this, with the mist rising from the water."

  She stared up at him, only half hearing the words, her eyes on his firm mouth, wanting it against hers just one more time.

  He glanced down and saw the look on her face, and a strange, tender smile touched his chiseled lips. "Comfortable?" he murmured deeply, studying the way she was half-lying against him.

  "You're very warm," she whispered.

  "Honey, you don't know the half of it." He bent, and she waited for his mouth with a hunger she hadn't felt since that night in Nassau. Her eyes looked directly into his as their mouths met, touched, clung.

  He drew back. "You like it like this, don't you?" he murmured softly. "Slow and gentle."

  She tried to steady her breathing without success. "You don't like it," she whispered.

  "I like it any way at all with you," he replied quietly.

  She smiled at him, letting the barriers down for an instant.

  "Smile at me like that, and I'd kill for you," he muttered, bending again, his mouth slower this time, the pressure slightly rougher, deeper. "It's been a long time since I've kissed you," he whispered against her lips. "I thought I'd never be able to again. ..."

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Why, Cole?" she asked drowsily.

  He didn't reply, but his face seemed to harden. "It doesn't matter. Come here."

  He drew her closer, feeling her soft body yield to him without a struggle. His arms tightened, until he could feel every delicious inch of her against his powerful body, and he kissed her as if he never meant to stop.

  She could feel the hunger in him, and it was almost as great as her own. It had been so long, so very long, and for a minute she forgot that she didn't trust him, didn't dare trust him, and she kissed him back with all her heart. With a sense of wonder she felt his long, hard body against hers, the warm biting pressure of his ardent mouth.

  He felt her tremble and drew back, breathing hard, his eyes narrow on her flushed face. "You'll never feel this with another man," he said in a voice that was husky with emotion, "any more than I'll ever feel it with another woman. But you'd cut off your nose before you'd admit it, wouldn't you, Sunflower?"

  She stared at him helplessly, hating her own weakness. There was a moment of quiet, broken only by the gurgling sound of the rushing river and the birds welcoming the rising sun. "I just don't know if I can trust you," she whispered softly, biting her lower lip.

  She saw the pain in his eyes before he buried his face in her soft throat. His arms, trembling slightly, crushed her to him. "Heather," he breathed. He made of her name a prayer, a sweet sound that ached with longing. "Don't you think I'd take back the past few months if there was any human way to do it? Oh, my God, there were nights when I thought I'd go crazy, when I remembered the touch of you, the sound of your voice laughing. . . . I've gone to the stable in the middle of the night to saddle a horse and ride. But no matter how far I went, or how late I stayed awake, or how hard I worked, the memory of you stayed with me."

  "You sent me away," she reminded him gently. The memory of that terrible day lingered in her sad, pale eyes, as she pushed against his chest. "Let me go, please," she said in a strained tone.

  His hands held her for an instant before he reluctantly let her go. His eyes followed her as she went to stand by the riverbank and stooped to pick up some smooth, fiat rocks. "So you don't trust me," he said flatly after a minute.

  She caught the faint scent of smoke and knew he'd lit a cigarette even before he came to stand beside her and she saw it in his lean fingers. "I can't help it," she murmured. She tossed a stone into the river and glanced at his sharp, stern profile. "Cole, why won't you tell me what happened?"

  He shifted, flexing his broad shoulders with a heavy sigh before he lifted the cigarette to his chiseled lips and took a long draw from it. "It was just something I found out that. . . made me believe there was no future for us."