-----------------------------------
Back in His Arms
by Becky Barker
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Romance

Wildside Press
www.wildsidepress.com

First published in USA, 1991

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

BACK IN HIS ARMS

BECKY BARKER

Wildside Press

Originally published as a Kismet Romance

in September 1991 by the Meteor Publishing Company.

First Wildside Press edition: March 2001

AUTHOR'S NOTE

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

A publication of Wildside Press www.wildsidepress.com

To my friends of the Central Ohio Fiction Writers. Many thanks for your support and encouragement.

One

Driving the candy-apple red Porsche onto McCain property was tantamount to waving a red flag before a bull, but Tara had come too far to turn back now. She stopped in front of the imposing iron gates and commanded herself to remain calm. Her palms were already damp and her pulse was accelerating with alarming speed. Just the thought of being near Rand again made her heart pound and her breathing labored. She couldn't allow him to affect her this way. If she didn't remain immune to him, she'd have no hope of winning a battle of wills.

Mustering her self-control, she tooted the horn and then breathed a small sigh of relief when a stranger came from the gate house. Luckily, he was a new employee and wouldn't recognize her. Chalk one up in her favor.

As she rolled down her window the warm Oklahoma breeze wafted in, assaulting her senses and bringing back poignant memories. She really loved this ranch and leaving it had been the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. Coming back was the second hardest.

There was no time for reminiscing, she admonished herself sternly, then forced a smile that was bright and cheerful.

“Hello,” she greeted the thin young man who approached the car. Her soft southern accent held a captivating sweetness and brought a slight blush to his rather gaunt features.

“I'm Tara McCain, and I've come to visit my family. I wanted to surprise them, but I'll need your help."

The man tipped his hat respectfully and gave her a guarded smile. She knew her only hope of gaining entrance to the ranch was dependent on deceiving this boy, yet she hated lying to anyone. Still, if he insisted on checking with Rand, there would bBarker-BHArmsBack in His ArmsBecky BarkerWildside PressCopyright © 1991 by Becky BarkerRomance. 56140 words long. First published in USA, 1991 enNoveltext/xml

-----------------------------------
Back in His Arms
by Becky Barker
-----------------------------------

Romance

Wildside Press
www.wildsidepress.com

First published in USA, 1991

BACK IN HIS ARMS

BECKY BARKER

Wildside Press

Originally published as a Kismet Romance

in September 1991 by the Meteor Publishing Company.

First Wildside Press edition: March 2001

AUTHOR'S NOTE

A publication of Wildside Press www.wildsidepress.com

To my friends of the Central Ohio Fiction Writers. Many thanks for your support and encouragement.

One

There was no time for reminiscing, she admonished herself sternly, then forced a smile that was bright and cheerful.

“Hello,” she greeted the thin young man who approached the car. Her soft southern accent held a captivating sweetness and brought a slight blush to his rather gaunt features.

“I'm Tara McCain, and I've come to visit my family. I wanted to surprise them, but I'll need your help."

“You got it,” she mumbled, snuggling closer.

It had never been easy for him to discuss his deepest emotions, especially not with Tara. But he'd promised himself to try. He knew it was important to their relationship.

“Will you stay here? Will you live with me and be my friend, my wife, my lover?"

The words were said quietly, sincerely, and they startled the sleepiness right out of Tara. She tilted her head backward and let her gaze meet his.

“For Mindi's sake?” she had to ask.

“Partly,” he admitted.

“Because you're tired of sleeping alone?"

“Partly."

“Because I'm a computer genius, an ace secretary, a fair cook, and a passable cowpoke?” Her teasing disguised a desperate need to know how important she really was to him.

“All of those things are part of the reason I want you to stay,” he confessed, brushing his lips across hers. His voice grew rough as he added, “But I mostly want you to stay because I love you, and I can't stand the thought of living without you."

“Do you mean that?” she asked hoarsely, wanting it so badly that she was afraid to believe.

“With all my heart,” he vowed, stroking the softness of her cheek with a gentle finger. “I love you very much."

Tara closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. When she reopened them, they glistened with tears of joy. “If you love me half as much as I love you, then we'll have an eternity of loving."

Rand's eyes glistened, too. She was all he wanted. “Don't ever leave me again,” he begged.

“Never!” she swore, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him as tightly as she could.

She had no guarantees to offer him, just her love and devotion. If they could discuss their problems, admit their love, and reinforce their commitment to each other, then they could make their marriage work. She was going to make sure they did, because he was her one and only love.

“I'm here to stay,” she vowed.

“Welcome home, Mrs. McCain."

About the Author

Becky Barker lives in rural Ohio with her husband, Buzz. They have three children; Rachel, Amanda, and Thad. She has been an avid reader of romance since grade school and cdyonsiders herself one of those lucky people whose life has been filled with music, laughter, and love. Becky welcomes readers to visit her website at: www.beckybarker.com or snail mail her at: P.O. Box 113, Mt. Sterling, OH 43143.

Visit www.wildsidepress.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors. e no gates opened to her.

“I have my electronic control for the gate, but I don't know if the code's been changed. I've been out of state for the past year, and I haven't had any need to check it,” she explained as she showed him the device.

When he remained hesitant, she flashed him another smile and punched in the old code she'd originally installed.

The huge iron gates began to slowly slide apart, and Tara heaved a mental sigh of relief. Now the watchman easily returned her smile. The remote and code had assured her clearance.

“You must be good with numbers if you remember the code after all that time,” he declared, his expression admiring.

Tara gave him the full benefit of her wide-eyed gaze and tried to conceal her impatience. She desperately wanted to pass through the gates, but she didn't want to arouse his suspicion.

“I'm one of those odd creatures who loves numbers, computers, and programming,” she told him truthfully, knowing that few people were willing to accept the fact that she had brains as well as beauty. At times the beauty could be a detriment, but she'd never regretted her mental abilities. “I helped Rand implement the security system here at the ranch."

When the impressionable young man's eyes widened in awe, Tara feared that she'd given herself away. She prayed that this new staff member didn't know Rand's estranged wife was responsible for the computerized security.

“Wow!” he exclaimed in genuine enthusiasm. “I've studied the system and worked with it for a while. It's one of the best I've ever seen."

Her soft laughter was sweetened by genuine delight. “Thank you. I take it you're in charge of the system now."

“Yes, ma'am,” he responded, suddenly remembering his manners. “My name's Donnie Lee Pruitt. I'm working for Mr. McCain until I go to college in the fall. I've already been accepted at Computon in Oklahoma City. It's one of the finest computer schools in the country."

“I know,” she replied warmly. “You must be very pleased. Computon's become so popular that they had to limit enrollment. I studied there myself, and I loved every minute of it.''

“You did! No kidding? Have you just graduated?"

Tara couldn't help but enjoy his enthusiasm. Her smile widened and she teased. “I'm a little older than most of their students. I studied there several years ago and do some teaching for them, but mostly I just freelance."

“Freelance?” he questioned and then his eyes grew still wider. Suddenly he was studying her with great intensity. She would have been uncomfortable if she hadn't known what was going through his mind.

“You're the T.L. McCain who writes for Computer News? You're considered one of the best trouble-shooters to ever touch a keyboard!"

This boy was definitely good for her ego, she thought. “The name's Tara Leigh McCain. My mother is a hopeless romantic. I write and work under the initials T.L. because a lot of men still resist taking business advice from a woman."

Donnie Pruitt seemed struck speechless, and her amusement increased. She was used to being respected and appreciated in her own environment, but she certainly hadn't expected to find anyone on Rand's ranch who cared one iota about her reputation.

“Wow!” was all the young man could manage to say.

“Thank you,” Tara replied with heartfelt gratitude. Her self-esteem needed a strong boost before she faced Rand. “Perhaps we'll get the chance to work together sometime."

“That would be super! I mean, anytime you wanted ... well, just anytime you have a free minute. I'd love to learn more about the system here. I've been trying to help Mr. McCain retrieve his business files for the ranch, but that last secretary sure fouled things up."

“So I've heard,” she murmured, shifting her gaze toward the gates. That bit of information had finally given her the courage to come home. “I'm hoping I can help.” She was praying Rand would let her.

“Of course,” Donnie exclaimed. “I should have guessed. If anybody can crack that crazy code, you can."

Tara's smile was growing more stiff and forced. Her impatience to approach the house increased with each passing second. Tension gnawed at her insides even though she'd become an expert at hiding her feelings. “I really should go in now,” she said, praying he wouldn't insist on calling ahead to alert the family.

“Gee, I'm sorry for keeping you so long,” Donnie apologized while stepping back from the car. “But it sure has been a pleasure to meet you."

“You, too, Donnie."

Tara gave him a parting smile and rolled up her window, shifted gears, then turned the air-conditioning on full blast.

She was on McCain property and fought to remain cool, calm, and in control. The only way she could accomplish her objective was to appear self-contained and in command of her emotions. Rand didn't suffer fools, and she didn't want to give him even the slightest advantage. Mentally prepared to do battle with him, she dared not let him realize how terribly insecure his world made her feel. He must never learn that she still became hot and flustered at the very thought of him.

Her heart seemed to lodge in her throat as she drove the last half mile to the sprawling, hacienda-style ranch house. She'd shared Rand's beautiful home for two of the most emotionally stressful years of her life and it wasn't easy to return.

Her sophisticated façade threatened to crumble, as memories overwhelmed her. She'd failed Rand miserably as a wife. They'd been veritable strangers when they'd married and they'd become lovers, but they'd never had time to become friends. They'd never shared their hopes, dreams, and fears.

They'd never been close enough to share their insecurities. She'd been hopelessly in love with him, but knew he'd never suspected the depth of her feelings. He hadn't loved her and hadn't believed she loved him. After more than a year of separation his image was still vivid in her mind. She forced herself to banish thoughts of him and concentrate on her main objective, Mindi.

Tara couldn't believe her eyes or her incredible luck as she pulled to a stop in front of the house. Her nerves were already strung taut, but the sight of the diminutive three-year-old made her tremble with excitement. Mindi was alone on the shaded front porch. Taking a deep breath, Tara swung her silk-clad body from her car and quickly moved toward the porch steps.

She headed straight for her daughter, but she was intercepted by a huge, low-growling German Shepherd. The guard dog rose from his seemingly relaxed position and watched her with unblinking intensity, continuing to growl in warning.

She tensed, then smiled derisively. Why had she imagined Mindi would be completely alone and unprotected? The house had always been well-guarded. Rand's only child and heir to the McCain fortune would never be without watchful eyes.

“Is that you, Rex?” she offered softly, putting out a hand for the big dog to smell. “You were just a baby the last time I saw you. You certainly have grown big and tough looking,” she continued to murmur softly, awaiting the dog's acceptance.

Rex's tail began to wag, and he cautiously sniffed her hand with a wet nose. Tara doubted he remembered her, but he'd obviously decided to trust her anyway. She imagined he'd tolerate her as long as she didn't make any move to touch Mindi. Rand's dogs were well trained. They were gentle and friendly, but prepared to respond to the slightest threat.

“Do you know Wex?” asked a childish voice. Despite the rolling of her “r,” Mindi sounded formally polite and very adult. To a mother who had lived on photos for more than a year, her voice was music to the ears.

“I knew Rex when he was just a long-legged puppy,” she replied lightly while her gaze devoured her daughter. The mop of dark sable curls was long and thick and a bit wild, but healthy and shining. The wide hazel eyes were a mirror image of her own. Tara's throat tightened, her heart aching with emotion.

Her daughter had no memory of her. A year was a long time in a young child's life. How could she have been such a coward for so long? How could she ever hope for forgiveness?

“Do you. know my daddy Wand?” Mindi's inquiry was made with a slight lift of her right eyebrow. The gesture was so like her father's that Tara felt an unwelcome fluttering in her stomach.

“Yes,” Tara breathed lightly while trying to come to terms with a wealth of conflicting emotions.

“Does my daddy Wand know you?” was Mindi's next question. Tara smiled at the way she combined both of her father's names.

“Yes, your daddy knows me,” she conceded, quelling the urge to reach out and grab her. Her arms ached to hold her baby and ease some of the incredible loneliness she'd experienced during their interminable separation.

Mindi had been a toddler when she'd first taken her to Georgia. They'd lived with Tara's parents for nearly a year with sporadic visits to Oklahoma. It hadn't been a good way to raise a child. Finally, Rand had decided that Mindi's emotional well-being was at stake. He'd demanded that she move back home with his family.

At the time, Tara had known it was in Mindi's best interest to live with her dad, but she'd never learned to cope with the guilt and the hopeless longing.

After a thorough perusal, Mindi silently accepted Tara's presence and invited her to play. “We're having a tea party,” she explained, moving to a small table surrounded by chairs and a variety of dolls. One particular baby was easily recognizable. Tara had sent it to Mindi last Christmas. She felt a thrill of pleasure that the doll had become a playmate.

“Would you like some tea?” Mindi offered as her short, pudgy fingers carefully handled the teapot and miniature cups.

“That would be lovely,” she said, smoothing the skirt of her dress and easing herself down on the step next to the dog. She watched as Mindi served her guests, including Rex, like a perfect little hostess.

A smile tugged at her lips as Mindi cautiously carried Rex's teacup across the porch. Her tongue poked between her lips as she seriously concentrated on reaching the dog without spilling the contents. Tara wondered at the countless times she'd caught herself holding her tongue just so, and the ache in her heart intensified.

Mindi sighed with self-satisfaction as she accomplished her task. She'd placed the tiny cup between Rex's massive paws, and he obligingly lapped up all his “tea."

“What's your name?” Mindi asked, her attention redirected to her newest guest. A lump lodged in her throat. “You can call me Tara, if you like,” she suggested huskily.

“Miss Tara?” queried Mindi.

“Ms. Tara would be fine."

The dark curls bobbed in agreement. “Gewaldine says all ladies should be called Miss or Mrs."

Tara smiled at the mention of Geraldine Jackson. The elderly house-keeper was a dear. Rand's beloved nanny was nearing eighty, but wouldn't accept retirement without several years worth of arguments. “Is Geraldine home this evening?” she asked.

“She's fixin’ supper,” retorted Mindi while pouring more water from her pot. “Cream and sugar?” she asked politely.

Remembering the addition of sand and chalky-white liquid to Rex's cup, Tara decided against any extras. “I think I'll drink mine straight."

Mindi nodded in approval. “My daddy likes his stwaight,” she explained. “Gwan just takes cweam."

The breath got trapped in her lungs. Her pulse accelerated as Mindi came close enough to offer a teacup. She realized, fleetingly, that everything she held precious in life was within arm's reach. Her own hands were a bit unsteady as she accepted the cup and saucer. Mindi waited expectantly, her big, heavily lashed eyes intent.

Tara lifted the cup to her lips and pretended to sip the brew. Then she smiled at her watchful hostess. “Just right."

A smile is worth a thousand words. The age old phrase came to her mind as Mindi's smile beamed with pride. She was so sweet that Tara wanted to steal her away and spend the rest of her life making up for the many months they'd been parted.

Mindi moved back toward the table full of dolls and made sure each of them was cared for. Tara watched the small replica of herself and remembered the hours she'd spent in her own little world of make-believe. Being an only child made one dependent on the imagination. She desperately wanted to share Mindi's world, but she knew she had a long, hard battle ahead of her.

“More tea?"

“No thank you, Miss Mindi,” she replied softly, her smile widening when her daughter giggled in delight.

Then the peaceful game was disrupted by the roaring of a truck engine as it raced around the house from the direction of the barns. Tara went rigid with tension as it screeched to a halt beside her Porsche. She didn't need Mindi's squeal of excitement to identify the driver. Rand McCain wasn't a man one ever forgot.

“My daddy's home!” Mindi cheered as she bounced up and down, clapping her hands. “Daddy's home!"

The truck door slammed violently, and Tara rose to her feet, nervously smoothing the hem of her skirt. She'd worn the blue silk because it made her feel casually elegant. The style complemented her figure, and she knew Rand was partial to blue. She also knew she would need any slight advantage she could get. He was furious, just as she'd known he would be.

Rand's long, angry strides quickly covered the distance to the porch. His hat was carelessly jammed on his head and his shirt flapped open, revealing a broad, bronzed chest that was powerfully muscled. He was as big, handsome, and devastatingly male as she remembered. The fiery green of his gaze lashed her with contempt, giving her control a painful beating.

The instant Rand was within reach of the porch, Mindi launched her small body toward him and dove from the steps, never doubting that strong arms would be there to catch her. He scooped up his daughter, returning her fierce hug, but never shifting his blistering gaze from Tara.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he ground out harshly. “How did you get past the gate?"

The violence of his tone startled the child in his arms. Her eyes widened in shock, her gaze going from one to the other.

“Rand!” Tara's soft exclamation of distress begged him not to upset Mindi or make her wary.

Two identical sets of hazel eyes were equally beseeching. Rand's jaw clenched in agitation. He had no desire to spare Tara's feelings, but he didn't want to scare Mindi.

The screen door opened and all attention turned to Dorothy McCain, Rand's mother, a tall, angular woman with soft green eyes and snow white hair. She was thinner than Tara had ever seen her, but just as attractive and almost as intimidating as her son.

“It's time for Mindi to get cleaned up for dinner,” she stated quietly. She was aware of the explosive tension between her son and daughter-in-law and wanted to keep the child out of the conflict. Tara wondered how long Dot had been standing at the door watching over Mindi.

Rand moved closer, and Tara shifted out of his way while he settled Mindi on the porch near his mother. Dot smiled reassuringly and then offered her estranged daughter-in-law a tentative smile.

“Geraldine says dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

“Good-bye, Ms. Tara,” Mindi said softly as she followed her grandmother indoors.

Tara didn't respond. Rand was too close, and she wondered if he'd always towered over her to such an extent. His presence seemed to steal away her breath and a multitude of conflicting emotions churned within her.

“Ms. Tara,” repeated Rand, his gaze icily condemning,

“Would you prefer that I have her call me Mommy?” Tara dared with more bravado than was wise. She didn't want to further infuriate him, but she couldn't allow him to see how devastated she was by his presence. He had an unnerving power over her that she was determined to vanquish. She'd hoped the months of separation would kill any lingering fascination for him, yet the physical impact he had on her senses was swiftly destroying that thin hope.

Rand visibly battled for control and Tara wondered if he was tempted to strangle her with his bare hands. If she were a man, she'd never have dared to trespass on his property in the first place.

“I asked you why the hell you're here!” he snarled, his hands balled into tight fists while his broad chest heaved from the intensity of his temper.

Tara mustered her courage and stated her purpose. “I want to spend some time with Mindi."

“The hell you do!” he exploded, moving a step closer to her. “I told you if you didn't come home with us a year ago that I never wanted to lay eyes on you again. You knew then that you'd never be welcome in my home."

“I haven't forgotten,” she replied steadily, refusing to shift her gaze from the hot intensity of his. Every scathing word he'd ever said to her was indelibly printed in her memory. “I've stayed out of your hair for a long time, but no longer. I want to get to know her again."

“Don't tell me it's latent maternal instincts,” he insulted. “I won't buy it. It sure as hell couldn't be your conscience, either, and you're not stupid enough to hope for a divorce. What is it? I want the truth."

Head high, spine stiff, Tara returned his regard with as little expression as possible. She dared not let him see how his contempt threatened her composure. She'd been anticipating this confrontation for months, and knew she couldn't let him realize how his anger unnerved her. The very last thing she could allow was a flare up of her own temper.

“I've told you the truth. I want to spend time with Mindi.” She could never tell him the truth about the last twelve months. She'd destroy all hope of ever getting to know her daughter. “I may be horribly delinquent in expressing that desire, but it's no less sincere,” she added.

“Delinquent!” Rand raged. “You call desertion and a year of absence delinquent?"

His accusation of desertion was an deliberate attempt to make her furious, but she refused to lose her temper. She kept reminding herself that she hadn't been responsible for the emergency that prompted her move to Georgia. She hadn't willingly deserted anyone.

It was his fault that she hadn't come home sooner. Once he'd reclaimed Mindi, he'd made it clear that he didn't want his wife. Her phone calls and letters had been ignored. His attitude had hurt and humiliated her, but she wasn't going to let him see how much.

“I've changed,” she forced herself to admit, knowing it would initiate more of his scathing disbelief. “My priorities have changed considerably in the past year."

Rand's bark of laughter was unpleasant. His eyes bored into hers as he challenged her quiet declaration. “Suppose we dispense with games. I know you're not impressed by my wealth, nor by me personally. You never cared for ranch life and that's not likely to have changed since you've enjoyed the freedom of the city. You were never much of a mother to Mindi, so why do you expect me to believe you care about her now?"

Tara fumed at his arrogance and his total disregard for all the facts. He'd agreed that she should help her father after his debilitating stroke. Now Rand made it sound as though she'd jumped at an excuse to leave him and the ranch.

“Are you in some kind of trouble? Are you running away again and hoping for protection here? Has some erstwhile lover gotten too possessive and started to pressure you? Has your fascination with corporate power finally palled?” he lashed out.

His angry words recalled more pain than Tara was prepared to handle, so she tried to concentrate on her major concern.

“I'm not running away, and my only motive is Mindi. That's the truth whether you choose to believe it or not."

She was so cool, so damnably calm. The control was an aspect of her personality that Rand had never experienced. In the days that she'd lived with him, she'd been more prone to emotional outbursts and immature fits of temper. He found himself wanting to shatter that control and make her just as furious as he was.

“You may have changed some, but I haven't. When I said you'd never be welcome here, I meant it. You forfeited any right to know your daughter when you deserted her. She's never needed any mother except mine, and she doesn't need an irresponsible role model like you. I'm not going to let her get to know you just so she can be shattered the next time you decide to take flight."

His words were partly true and they hurt, but Tara didn't let the pain show. She was becoming increasingly disturbed by his proximity, yet she fought the sensual threat to her composure. Nothing was more important than Mindi.

Her lips were tightly closed to avoid any betraying tremor and the directness of her gaze challenged him. She dared Rand to find a weakness in her armor and it infuriated him, yet Tara had no alternative. If he had an inkling of her true feelings, he'd make mincemeat of her.

“I've met with a lawyer to check about visitation rights, but since we're not divorced or legally separated, that wasn't a very promising option. I came here to discuss the matter. If you refuse to listen, I'm prepared to fight you through the courts."

She was threatening him. They both knew that nobody got away with threatening him, but she wasn't afraid to try. And she wasn't bluffing. The seriousness of her threat was apparent in her tone, her rigid composure, and her cool, steady gaze.

“There's no court in Oklahoma that would grant you custody after you deserted your baby,” Rand returned in a voice gone low and dangerous. “No court is going to take my daughter from me."

The dark threat in his gaze sent tiny shivers of apprehension through Tara, yet she maintained her composure. Rand might be almighty in this territory, but he also knew she had the money, power, and influence to fight him long and hard.

“I don't want a court fight any more than you do,” she declared in a steady tone, “but I want to know my daughter and I want her to have the chance to know me. Your mother and Geraldine aren't getting any younger. They might not always be here for Mindi. I'm not insisting that she be told the truth right now, but I want to be a friend she can depend on."

Tara knew he would scoff at the idea of her being dependable. She was leaving herself wide open for more insults, but she wanted to make herself perfectly clear from the very beginning. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision on her part, and she intended to make him believe that eventually.

“Mindi will always have me,” he growled in response, his emerald-green eyes searing her with unspoken insults. “She doesn't need a part-time friend who doesn't know the meaning of loyalty and dependability."

There was no quick, easy way to convince him that she was loyal and trustworthy. There was no easy way to prove her sincerity, and she couldn't erase the past. What she had to do was convince him that she was serious and that she wouldn't be brushed aside by his anger and resentment.

“I am going to spend some time with my daughter, Rand, even though you're going to hate the idea and resent every minute I have with her. I've stayed away more than a year, but I'm not going to stay out of her life forever. You can either accept that fact or you can hire a lawyer to fight me. I'd rather we came to an amiable agreement, but I won't be intimidated or discouraged. I'm not going to run away and hide this time."

The tension that pulsed between them was heightened by the sudden, deadly silence. Only the sound of their labored breathing could be heard as he moved disturbingly close to her. Their gazes locked in a war of wills. Rand radiated a primitive power that was awesome, and Tara's legs trembled. The trembling traversed her body, but she didn't back down or reveal her chaotic reactions to him.

“You deserted her,” he ground out harshly.

“I left her in your care,” Tara countered, annoyed when her voice sounded slightly breathless. “Dot was always a more adequate mother than I was."

“Whose fault is that?"

“Mine,” she admitted with a return of spirit. “I'm not denying the fact or pretending it doesn't matter. I'm merely insisting that I be allowed to spend some quality time with her now. We'll both lose if we take our fight to court."

“Damn you,” he uttered with a vehemence that reverberated over and between them. One of his big hands came up to grasp Tara's chin in a firm, but painless grip.

“Damn your arrogance, your incredible nerve and this sudden lapse into maternal caring. I won't let you hurt Mindi. I'll fight you in court and any other way you decide to challenge my guardianship. Mindi will be graduating from college before she's allowed to spend any time with you.

“And how will you explain your actions to that college graduate?” Tara wondered aloud, fighting both the man and the intense aching his touch created within her. “How will Mindi feel in a few years when she learns that you've denied her the knowledge of her mother?"

Rand's eyes blazed. The monumental control he was exhibiting was costing him dearly. He hated Tara for challenging him, yet he couldn't deny the fact that Mindi was as much her child as his. He didn't want to share the rights of parenthood with a woman he'd ordered out of his life, yet he was intelligent enough to realize the law would uphold her rights.

He was further infuriated by her insinuation that he was depriving Mindi. “I'll deal with the psychological effects your desertion might cause if and when Mindi expresses an interest."

“And the effects of deliberately keeping us apart?” Tara dared. She badly wanted to pull her face from his grasp, yet she was afraid the action might betray weakness.

“My responsibility,” snapped Rand. “I can take care of all her needs. You can get in your little car and get off my property."

“You're going to have to throw me off,” Tara whispered. Her words and unflinching gaze challenged him. His face was close enough to feel the heat of his breath. She could feel the fine tremor of anger coursing through him and knew he badly wanted to throw her off his land. Still, she taunted him with unprecedented boldness.

Rand was a man of action. He was used to having his orders obeyed and accustomed to being in full control of most situations. They both knew he could have her escorted off the property without lifting a hand to help. She waited with bated breath to see how he chose to handle her intrusion in his life.

They were so thoroughly engrossed in each other that neither heard the screen door reopen. The sound of Mindi's voice startled them. Rand dropped his hand from Tara's chin and they turned to their daughter.

“Gewaldine says supper's weady. She set a plate for Ms. Tara and said not to keep her waiting."

Tara paled. She wanted time with Mindi, but she didn't know if she was prepared to dine with the family. A little of Rand's fury went a long way. She needed a respite.

“Ms. Tara is leaving,” Rand told Mindi as he swept her possessively into his arms.

Dot was the next to speak, having followed Mindi to the door. “Tara's come a long way. She should have something to eat before heading back to town."

Rand glared at his mother while Tara offered a stiff smile in appreciation.

“That's right, Daddy,” Mindi added while framing Rand's face with her small hands. “We have to be hospitable,” she reminded, quite proud of her manners.

Tara smiled more easily and relaxed a little.

“You'll stay, won't you, Tara?” Dot asked, ignoring her son's anger.

Tara gave Rand a quick glance. Then her eyes focused on Mindi and her smile deepened. “I'd like that very much."

Two

Rand carried Mindi through the doorway and put her down beside his mother, not affording Tara a glance.

“You go ahead and eat while it's hot. I'm going to take a shower.” He stiffened as Tara followed him in the house, but otherwise ignored her as he headed down the hallway toward the bedroom they'd once shared.

“You'll join us later?” Dot inquired after him.

“Shortly,” he answered in a near growl.

The hot, stinging shower helped to ease some of the tension from his body, but Rand knew it would return full force when he saw Tara again. He'd thought he had her out of his system, yet she challenged his control as no other woman had ever done, probably because she'd gotten under his skin the very first time he'd laid eyes on her.

He'd gone to a party in Oklahoma City with Craig Sanderson, his friend and neighbor. Craig had introduced him to Tara, and once their eyes had met, the rest of the night had become magic. They'd talked, danced, laughed, and made love.

His body still went hot and hard every time he remembered. He turned the tap to cold and willed the freezing shower to numb those responses. Tara had been a virgin. She'd been exquisite, so sweet, sexy, and responsive, yet unprepared for sex and totally unfit for the long term consequences. He hadn't realized that until it was too late.

Luckily, she'd been infatuated enough to agree to marry him and give their child his name. Unluckily, she hadn't loved him enough to be satisfied with marriage, motherhood, and his lifestyle. She'd wanted more, and he'd wanted her to want the same things he did. It was selfish and possessive of him, yet he'd never felt sure enough of her to trust her bid for independence.

He wasn't going to let her take Mindi. Not now, not ever. He'd made a lot of mistakes and maybe he hadn't fought hard enough to save his marriage, but he would fight for his baby girl. He didn't want Tara satisfying her temporary desire for motherhood at Mindi's expense, and he had no way of knowing her true feelings.

Mindi was so young. Her openness and love of life made her vulnerable. He knew she was lonesome sometimes. He tried to see that she had friends as well as family to occupy her time, yet he knew she would delight in having Tara with her. All too soon she would become emotionally attached and then she'd be devastated when Tara left again. He'd experienced the same loss, and he wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone, especially not an innocent child.

A shiver ran down his spine as he considered the upheaval Tara could create if he allowed her to. Stepping from the shower, he briskly dried off and vowed to make sure she didn't want to stay.

Her cool, controlled attitude had thrown him, but he would see that she reverted to her normal volatile temperament. It shouldn't be hard to make her lose her temper and then find out exactly what she wanted. He couldn't believe that she wanted time with Mindi. She'd been enjoying the swinging singles life too long. If she had hopes of finagling a divorce, she'd have to wait until hell froze.

Dressed in tan slacks and a chocolate-brown shirt, Rand headed for the dining room, still trying to fathom Tara's reasons for suddenly reappearing. She'd never been interested in his money. She was the only child of very wealthy parents and was wealthy in her own right. According to gossip, she'd also made quite a reputation for herself in the business world. She was a highly-sought-after trouble-shooter. He was sure she could name her price for her services. So why was she bothering him?

Whatever her plan, he intended to nip it in the bud. If she was immune to his temper and refused to be intimidated, then he'd badger her until she turned tail and ran. He intended to make damned sure she didn't take their daughter with her. He would never allow it.

She could have been bluffing about taking him to court. He refused to have Mindi bounced back and forth between Georgia and Oklahoma like some sort of yoyo. The thought of uprooting his daughter made him angry again. His features were tight with tension and his eyes blazed with defiance as he entered the dining room.

Tara's breath caught in her throat as she watched Rand approach the table. His hair was still damp from the shower giving it the darkness of burnished gold. She knew by the end of the summer it would be bleached almost silver She'd always been awed by the striking contrast between his sun-bright hair and his sun-bronzed skin. He was one gorgeous man, yet she had managed to alienate him to the point of no return. She'd be wise to ignore his masculine appeal.

Rand shot Mindi a smile as he sat down and accepted a warmed plate from Dorothy. Then he glanced at Mindi's plate.

“I guess I came right at rest period,” he said.

Mindi nodded, and Tara threw a questioning glance at Dot.

“When Mindi swims, she has to have rest periods,” the older woman explained. “When she eats, she takes her rest period before her vegetables."

It was all Tara could do to contain a smile. She'd been feasting on the sight of her daughter during their meal and was grateful to Dot for helping them become better acquainted. Rand wouldn't appreciate the sharing of such small details, but she loved learning them.

“Don't you like Geraldine's broccoli?” she asked.

Mindi crossed her arms over her chest and made a grimace. “I'd rather eat cow pies,” she declared vehemently.

Surprise lit Tara's eyes and then she had to lower her lids to hide her amusement. Rand and Dot's reactions were restrained, but she could tell they were controlling laughter, as well. They'd had more practice, but she recovered quickly.

“That's pretty serious,” she commiserated. “I've never eaten cow pies, but I know I'd rather eat broccoli than even smell a cow pie."

Mindi wrinkled her nose. “Bwoccoli smells worst,” she insisted.

Tara very carefully shook her head, lifting a bite of broccoli to her mouth. “I think you're wrong. Broccoli hardly has any smell, and if you use your imagination, you might think it tastes like something you really love."

Curious, Mindi wanted to know more. “What? What does it taste like?"

“What do you really love?” asked Tara.

“Ice cream, peanut butter, and Gewaldine's strawberry shortcake."

“Umm,” Tara drawled, taking another bite. “I think this broccoli tastes like strawberries."

Mindi looked at her as if she were crazy and then she speared a bite of her broccoli and chewed it, continuing to grimace. “It doesn't taste like strawberries,” she argued.

“Maybe you didn't eat enough to be sure. I'm positive it tastes and smells like strawberries."

All three adults watched as Mindi speared the last two bites of her broccoli and crammed them into her mouth, chewing furiously. “It just tastes like old green vegetable,” she complained in disgust.

“Maybe you're right,” Tara conceded. “Something else must have reminded me of strawberries."

“That's ‘cause Gewaldine gots shortcake for dessert."

“Geraldine has shortcake,” her grandmother corrected.

“I know,” Mindi chimed guilelessly, “and I can have some if my plate is clean.” She looked down and seemed amazed to find her plate already clean. Her eyes were wide and surprised when they lifted to meet those of her grandmother. “That was a short west period, wasn't it?"

“It certainly was,” supplied Dot with a grateful smile at Tara. “You'll be the first one served shortcake since you did such a good job on the rest of your dinner."

Mindi's expression was so pleased that Tara's smile deepened with incredible joy. She was absolutely fascinated by her daughter. Every minute spent with her showed just what an adorable child she'd become. Tara knew that her mother-in-law was responsible for a great deal of Mindi's upbringing. She wished she felt free to praise Dot for a job well done. When Mindi was younger, she'd resented Dot's interference and her insistence that she knew what was best for a baby. Now they both regretted that initial animosity.

“You done now Daddy?” Mindi asked with barely restrained impatience.

Rand put down his fork and gave her a sardonic smile. “I'm almost done. Would you like to tell Geraldine we're ready for dessert?"

“Sure,” Mindi agreed, sliding from her chair with a quick plea for pardon. “I can help carry the whipped cweam,” she added with spirit.

Tara's eyes followed her until she'd passed through the doorway and then they glistened with emotion as she lifted them to Dot. “She's precious."

The words were soft and sincere, but Tara's expression told her mother-in-law what words couldn't convey. The smile she gave Dot was warm, approving, and full of genuine admiration.

“Thank you,” Dot replied. Unused to openly expressing her emotions, her smile beamed with warmth and satisfaction. “Sometimes I think she's a bit too clever for her own good, but she's usually well behaved and even-tempered."

Rand watched the interaction between Dot and Tara with an increasing feeling of dread. Apparently the two of them had decided to bury the hatchet and concentrate on Mindi. He didn't know how long that might last, but he'd prefer his mother as an ally. He didn't care to do battle with either of them, yet he might not have a choice. Even if his mother was feeling benevolent, he wasn't.

He just wanted Tara out of his house and off his property.

“Are you planning to drive back to Oklahoma City tonight or are you staying in Lawton?” he asked, deliberately drawing her attention to him.

His ranch was located in northwest Oklahoma and the nearest town of any size was Lawton. Oklahoma City was a few hundred miles east. It was a long drive, but nothing out of the ordinary in these parts. He wanted to make sure Tara got any early start home.

“I have a motel reservation in Lawton,” she told him, knowing he wouldn't like the news.

“You shouldn't have bothered,” he countered in a low growl. “You're wasting your time. Why don't you hurry back to the big city and leave us alone? Surely you've had enough of your daughter to last another two or three years."

She blanched at the insult, but came back with a sharp retort. “You've had nearly four years. Have you had enough?"

Rand's lips thinned angrily, but he held his tongue as Mindi and Geraldine entered the room. He forced a smile for Mindi as she proudly helped serve dessert. She was a little too lavish with the whipped cream, but no one complained.

Despite her advancing age, Geraldine moved around the table with ease. She was only five feet tall and nearly as round as she was high, crediting her size to her own good cooking. Her brown eyes glittered with an enthusiasm for life that never seemed to dim. Always a champion of Tara, she fussed over her much as she did Mindi. When she was finished serving strawberries, she gathered dirty dishes and scolded Tara for not eating enough.

It was hard to argue with a mouth full of shortcake, so she gave Geraldine one of her most winning smiles.

“Honey, you could melt butter and win the hearts of kings with that smile, so don't you go wastin’ it on an old woman like me. Much as I love to see you smile, I think you'd best turn it in another direction.” She threw a pointed look at Rand that needed little interpretation.

Tara blushed slightly and heard Rand growl a low warning to the housekeeper.

“She needn't waste her smiles on me, either,” he declared roughly. “I've been immunized the hard way."

Tara winced, but didn't let her dismay show. She kept eating, and Geraldine kept grousing all the time she cleared the table.

“It sure beats me how two supposedly intelligent people...” she began, shaking her head.

“That's enough, Geraldine,” Rand injected, his eyes betraying his displeasure. Generally he tolerated her interfering with every aspect of his life, but not where Tara was concerned. Never where Tara was concerned.

A momentary hush settled, but before anyone could break the silence a giant bear of a man came through the kitchen doorway. He was bearded, with dark, wild hair, and had a fierce-looking flat face, yet his sudden appearance didn't take anyone by surprise.

“There's a rumor strawberry shortcake's being served here tonight,” he announced in a deep baritone while giving Mindi a broad, conspiratorial wink. She giggled in delight and tried to return his wink by batting her eyelashes several times.

“I wondered what was keeping you,” Geraldine said, pointing to a vacant seat across from Tara and next to Mindi. “I'll get you some dessert if you think you can sit still and be civil for a while."

There was a long-running battle between the housekeeper and one of the ranch foremen, Mike Craton. Each enjoyed badgering the other, yet both had huge, soft hearts and a genuine fondness for every member of the family.

“You know I'm always a perfect gentleman,” he replied, giving Dot a smile of greeting and Mindi a swift kiss before sitting down in his usual seat left of Rand.

He greeted Rand and then gave Tara a beaming smile, his dark eyes dancing with mischief.

“I thought I saw a familiar little red tin can parked in the drive."

“That's a quality automobile,” Tara returned lightly. Her car was a high-school graduation gift from her parents and anyone who knew her knew she wouldn't part with it.

“It's a pretty car,” Mindi piped in defense of the aging Porsche.

“But it's so teeny,” Mike argued just for the joy of it.

“Not to me,” Mindi replied reasonably, then turned her attention back to her whipped cream.

“Me, either,” Tara added.

“Yeah, but you girls are just bitty. I like a car with a lot of leg room.” It was a long-standing argument that Mike swiftly lost interest in when Geraldine placed a large portion of shortcake in front of him. “Mmm."

Rand was disturbed by the easy, playful banter between Tara and his foreman. Everyone was treating her as if she'd come home from a short trip rather than nearly two years of absence.

“Did you get that bull switched to the far pen?” he asked.

“Yeah, but he wasn't too pleased about it."

“He'll just have to suffer until we get a copy of those breeding reports,” Rand clipped shortly.

“Any luck with the employment agency?” Mike asked with a brief glance at Dot and then a more thoughtful glance at Tara.

“They aren't optimistic,” Rand answered, not wanting to elaborate on his problems.

“I thought maybe Tara was here to work on the computer. The city papers are declaring she's the best in the business,” Mike supplied in a careful tone.

Tara laid down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. Then she steeled herself to look directly at Rand. His grim expression made her increasingly nervous.

“Tara's leaving as soon as she's enjoyed Mindi's offer of hospitality."

She ignored his dismissive attitude. “I've spoken to Mrs. Adkins at the agency, and she explained your problem. She doesn't have anyone who is as experienced as I am with computers."

Rand visibly tensed and his features tightened at the thought of her interfering with his business. “So?” he queried, instinctively rejecting any offer of help from her.

His one word question sounded like an accusation, and his piercing regard threatened Tara's courage. Still, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“I would like to help if I can,” she declared quietly. “I'm familiar with the system as well as the ranch business."

“No!” Rand's answer was swift and harsh.

“Daddy?” Mindi's enjoyment of her dessert was momentarily disrupted by her father's angry tone.

“The IRS gave us an extension on our filing date, but if we don't retrieve those financial files this week we face another fine,” Dot inserted, reminding her son that he didn't have a lot of options. “Begging for another extension might not work."

“That last secretary really did a job on the files,” Mike told Tara. “You'd have to be a real miracle worker to undo the damage she's done. We've spent hours trying to work with that computer, but it hates all of us!"

Tara couldn't force a response from her lips. Her gaze warred with Rand's, and it told her she wasn't wanted. That hurt more than she cared to admit.

Neither of them seemed capable of breaking eye contact until Mindi's voice drew their attention.

“The computer doesn't hate me,” she said. “'Cause I don't cuss it."

The declaration brought chuckles and eased some of the tension around the table. Tara commanded herself to stay calm and turned her gaze to Mindi. Her heart swelled with love at the child's sweet innocence and uncomplicated honesty.

“Computers don't respond to cussing. They just need a gentle touch,” she explained.

“Like me?” Mindi chirped, eyes alight with pride. “Daddy says be gentle with me ‘cause I'm his only sweetheart."

Tara felt the unwelcome sting of tears behind her eyes and lowered her lashes to conceal her reaction to Mindi's childish boast. A multitude of emotions threatened to overwhelm her as she fought for control.

“I thought you were my sweetheart,” Mike argued to help dispel the rush of memories. Everyone but Mindi knew that Rand used to boast of two beautiful sweethearts.

“I'm your sunshine,” she reminded him with a beguiling smile.

“That's right,” he suddenly recalled. “But you could be my sweetheart, too."

Mindi was smiling but shaking his head, “I'm only my daddy's girl,” she declared, turning adoring eyes on her father.

Rand's voice was a little gruff as he rose from his chair and moved toward hers. “That's right, sweetheart, you'll always be daddy's girl.” He lifted her in his arms and returned a fierce hug. “I think it's time daddy gave his best girl a bath and got her ready for bed."

“But we have company, Daddy,” she reminded, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Then we'll politely excuse ourselves."

“Please ‘scuse us,” she said, smothering a sudden yawn. She gave Tara a broad smile. “Did you like our hospitality?"

“Very much, thank you,” Tara replied in a slightly unsteady voice. Her chest constricted with emotion.

“I'll be back shortly,” Rand told them.

Mindi looked over his shoulder and threw everyone a kiss. Tara's eyes filled with tears as she returned the sweet gesture and watched until the door closed behind them.

She heard Dot excuse herself to help Geraldine and forced herself to calmly offer assistance. Dot refused, insisting that Mike and Tara have some coffee and enjoy the opportunity to visit. Mike poured for them both, then studied Tara with searching eyes.

“You took your time coming back. He nearly drove us all crazy when you refused to come home with Mindi last year. He was hell to live with and nobody welcomes a repeat of that torture. If you don't plan to stay, I hope you aren't going to stir up a hornet's nest of trouble."

Sometimes Mike had the tact of a bulldozer. “Don't try to intimidate me,” Tara responded lightly. She knew his words of warning were issued in a caring spirit. “It's taken me long enough to muster my courage,” she confessed.

One bushy brow rose in surprise. “Courage?"

Sometimes Mike sounded just like a psychologist. He was secretly nicknamed “counselor” because every one on the ranch staff shared problems with him. Tara had never indulged.

“You're about the most beautiful, courageous gal I ever met. You've matured considerably and the sophistication is a tad off-putting, but you've never lacked guts. What makes you think you need more courage?"

“Because I didn't have the guts to come back and fight for what I wanted."

Mike was confused. “You went to Georgia to help your dad. You could have come home when he got better. Why did you stay away so long?"

She steadily returned his scrutiny. His question was simple. Unfortunately, the answer was complex, and she didn't dare trust anyone with a full explanation.

“I wanted to work. At first it was a challenge and then it almost became an obsession. I should have given it up sooner than I did, but by that time Rand had made it clear I wasn't welcome here."

For the first time since meeting the big man, Tara saw him flustered.

“You wanted a little more time, and he wouldn't allow it?” he asked.

“Rand told me if I didn't come back when he brought Mindi that I would never be welcome again."

“Did you want him out of your life?"

“Not hardly,” she scoffed. “I worshipped the ground he walked on."

“Then why the hell didn't you come home?” he demanded, scowling. “When Rand brought Mindi home he said that your dad was recovering and your mom was taking charge of the company. Why did you have to stay longer?"

Tara sighed heavily and sipped her coffee. That question was harder to answer. It wasn't easy to discuss something that still had the power to wound her.

“By that time our marriage had suffered some severe damage. Rand was like a stranger, and I didn't know how to relate to him. Even before I went to Georgia our relationship was strained. He devoted eighteen hours a day to the ranch. Dot devoted herself to Mindi, and Geraldine kept the house running smoothly. I felt like a fifth wheel."

“And in Georgia you were desperately needed. You quickly became a essential part of a team. Heady stuff."

“Heady ego trip,” Tara confessed, surprised, as always, by his amazing insight. “I can admit that now even though I didn't realize it at the time. I knew I could handle any corporate challenge. I was a lot less sure of coping with marriage and my personal feelings. I felt more secure when I didn't have enough time for a private life."

“Did you try to explain any of this to Rand?"

Tara frowned and shook her head.

“Then how can you expect him to understand and accept your decision to continue working? Did you ever tell him how much you love him?"

She'd never been able to discuss her deepest emotions with Rand. There had been times when she told him she loved him, but she didn't know if he'd believed her.

“No. I don't think he ever wanted declarations of love from me. He married me because he felt he had to. Later, when he demanded that I come home from Georgia, I panicked and refused. He made it clear that he wouldn't ask twice. I knew where I stood with him, and I didn't have the courage to fight for Mindi."

“Haven't the two of you ever communicated at all?” Mike growled in disgust.

“Very little,” she conceded. “His feelings were obvious. He never wanted me in the first place. I was a naive fool who trapped him into marriage. He was relieved to be rid of me."

Mike shook his head back and forth in rejection of her theory. “You can't really believe that. Rand was the one who steam-rolled you into marriage. His damned pride kept him from begging you to come back."

Tara knew he was wrong, but she didn't argue the point. Her marriage had self-destructed and nothing would change that.

“I'm not concerned with Rand's pride or his male ego. I have pride, too, but I swallowed a sickening amount to come here and fight for Mindi. I want to spend time with her. I'd be happy to help with the computer while I'm here, but he's not going to allow it."

“Are you going to fight for custody?"

“I'm not going to do anything to hurt Mindi. She doesn't remember me, and I don't want to confuse her by telling her who I am. I just want her to know me so she won't be hurt or bitter when she's old enough to understand why her dad and I are separated."

“Have you explained that to Rand?"

“He wasn't very receptive.” Her sarcasm didn't quite mask the hurt.

“No, I don't suppose he would be,” Mike conceded. “but he's been under a lot of strain, too. And you're a very real threat to his battered emotions."

Tara didn't want to be a threat. “I wish things were different, but I can't change past mistakes."

“Would you be willing to live here at the ranch like the other secretaries?"

“How many have there been?"

“Half a dozen. They hated the isolation. The last one didn't dislike the place, but she liked the boss too much."

Tara's eyes widened and she felt an unexpected surge of jealousy. “What happened?"

“Rand sent her packing, but she got even. She buried all the vital business files so deep in that computer's memory that nobody can find them. All the old paper files were destroyed and we need access to records. Soon."

Tara battled with conflicting emotions. Jealousy won out.

“How serious was it?"

“The damage to the files?"

“The affair with the secretary."

Mike threw back his head and roared with laughter. The buttons of his flannel shirt strained as his barrel chest expanded to accommodate great breaths of air.

When his mirth had subsided somewhat, he asked, “Do I look like a fool?"

Tara forced herself to relax and return his cheeky grin. “You're the soul of discretion. You really should take up professional counseling."

“With this body and face I'd scare away all the patients."

“You could always rope ‘em, drag ‘em into your office, and hog-tie ‘em to the couch,” she suggested outrageously.

“Wanna sign up for sessions?” he taunted, wiggling his eyebrows. “I could tie you and Rand together on the couch and teach you about communication."

Tara couldn't contain a blush at the thought of lying anywhere with Rand. Just the mention of physical contact made her tremble. She gave Mike an admonishing frown.

“You're an awful tease."

“And you're a princess."

“I don't want to be a princess,” she retorted.

“What then?"

She pursed her lips and gave him a thoughtful stare. “I want to be Rand's new secretary."

Mike roared with laughter again. “I'll just hog-tie him and you can beat him in the head until he agrees."

“It's a deal!” Tara exclaimed, his wicked humor delighting her. “You hold him, and I'll beat him into submission."

When he burst into another bout of laughter, she joined him. Then she was laughing as she hadn't laughed in a very long time.

Three

The sound of their combined laughter echoed through the house. Rand was returning to the dining room and it hit him like a punch to the gut. How long had it been since he'd heard Tara's laughter? He'd almost forgotten how effortlessly she could tie him in knots. The reminder renewed his anger.

Spending time with Mindi had helped him relax a little, but he'd been painfully aware of her resemblance to her mother. Her hair, her eyes, and her smile were so like Tara's. He couldn't deny the facts, but he wouldn't allow her to take advantage of them or to hurt Mindi.

The grim resolve was manifest by the tightness of his features when he reentered the dining room. His appearance quickly dispelled the remnants of amusement. Mike and Tara's smiles grew stiff and their expressions wary. Neither of them had any trouble identifying his displeasure. Mike decided it was time for him to make himself scarce.

“Is Mindi asleep or could she suffer through another bedtime story?"

Rand knew he enjoyed spending time with Mindi and he knew that she welcomed the big man's attentions. “She wasn't too anxious to settle down tonight. She was faking sleep when I left the room, but she's probably up playing already."

“That child's incorrigible,” Mike declared with mock severity. “I'd better go have a talk with her."

“You do that,” said Rand. His daughter could wrap the big foreman around her little finger and they all knew it.

Mike excused himself and suddenly the room was too quiet. Rand and Tara were alone and the atmosphere became heavy with unspeakable emotions. Tension pulsed between them, and she fought to regain her earlier calm, but she couldn't think of a thing to say. He had no difficulty speaking his mind.

“You'd better head for Lawton. It's getting late, and I'm sure someone's getting worried about you. You wouldn't want to keep your boyfriend waiting."

“Boyfriend?"

“Boyfriend, man friend, lover, lovers, whatever the case may be,” he clipped. For months he'd tortured himself with the thought of other men. Tara was much too passionate to be without a man for very long. Her beauty lured them by the dozens.

She flushed with anger when she realized what he was implying. “I do not...” She started to declare that she didn't sleep around, but then she remembered one particular night when she'd hopped into bed with Rand. He'd scorn her denial.

“I don't have a lover,” she managed with less emphasis.

Heat raced through Rand, the intensity scorching. He mistook her hesitancy as an admission of guilt. Suddenly it seemed his worst fears were being confirmed. Tara might not have a lover in tow tonight, but she didn't deny having had lovers. Maybe there was someone special. Maybe she wanted his protection, or worse, her freedom.

“Are you running away from your latest?” he ground out harshly. “Did he get too demanding or possessive?"

She refused to defend herself against his despicable suggestions. Suddenly at a disadvantage with him towering over her, she rose from her seat. Then she tried to ignore him while she collected the last of the dirty dishes.

“Leave them, Tara,” he commanded, becoming even more furious by her refusal to answer him. “I want you out of here!"

Tara forced herself to look directly at him. She stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders. Her eyes searched his for any small sign of softening. There wasn't one.

“It's not going to be that easy Rand,” she told him quietly. “I won't disappear like a bad dream and I won't be intimidated by your hostility. You can delay the inevitable, but I won't let you discourage my attempts to spend time with Mindi."

A silent battle of wills ensued, with two strong-minded people refusing to give an inch. Neither could erase the past or forecast the future, but each was positive they were right.

“I'm never going to let you take her from me,” he insisted tersely. “Not even for short visits. I have no way of ensuring that you'd bring her home."

“You think I'm callous enough to kidnap my own daughter?” Tara insisted, outraged. “Do you really think I'm so selfish that I'd take her away from the only home and family she's ever known?"

“You were selfish enough to desert her in the first place,” he reminded harshly.

“That's a lie!” she argued, anger threatening to shatter her control. Hands curled into fists, she glared at him with more temper than she'd demonstrated all night.

“If I were that selfish, I'd have fought for custody the first time I left. I knew she'd be better off here than with babysitters while I was working. There was never a time when I wouldn't have preferred to have her with me. No matter what you say or what you choose to believe, I love Mindi and I'm going to make sure she knows I love her. It might not seem important right now, but it will be very important to her one day soon."

Her outburst only added to Rand's worries. If she was serious, then they were in for a long, bitter battle.

“She's never leaving my home,” he reiterated, his expression taut with tension. “I'll prove you're unfit to be awarded even temporary custody."

Tara paled at the insult. She was distressed by his opinion of her morals, but she didn't try to correct the misconceptions. She had more potentially self-destructive secrets to protect. Besides, it didn't matter if he thought she'd slept with a hundred men. He hadn't wanted her.

“You'll have a hard time proving something that's blatantly untrue. I have a comfortable apartment in a nice section of town. I'm a highly qualified consultant with a respectable reputation. I can afford to give Mindi as much as you can."

“It's never going to happen,” Rand growled, “so don't start making plans. She's going to be raised here on this ranch."

“Then let me stay here with her for a while,” she braved, noting how his jaw clenched at the suggestion. “I'm not asking for any special consideration."

“You're asking for a whole hell of a lot more than special considerations,” he declared hotly. “You're not wanted here!"

Dorothy must have thought it a good time to reappear because she came through the doorway before Tara had a chance to respond. It was just as well, because she had no solution to his personal loathing of her.

In an attempt to ease the tension in the room, Dot gave them each a pleading glance. “Rand ... You need help with the computer,” she told her son.

“I'll get help,” he said, his features taut as he tried to rein in his temper.

“You shouldn't be so callous about Tara's offer to help."

“Her offer has strings attached,” he snapped, his eyes glaring into hers with fiery brilliance.

“My offer to help is just that,” she snapped back. “I'm not changing my mind about Mindi, whether I can work miracles or not. If you want to be nasty about it, then I'll charge you my regular fee, and I don't work cheap!"

She snatched up her purse and was ready to leave in a temper until she realized she was behaving just as she had the last time they'd argued. She was giving him the upper hand. Taking a deep-breath, she summoned control and even managed a smile for Dot.

“Thank you for dinner. Please tell Geraldine that everything was delicious. I enjoyed it very much."

“You don't have to leave right now, do you?” Dot asked with a note of panic. Rand wouldn't ask for her help at any price. “I was praying you'd take a look at the computer."

“Mother!” he barked.

“I've been trying to work with it, but I'm at my wit's end. Donnie Pruitt is good with computers, but he's so strange and intense that I hate having him in the house too much. We've all wasted a horrendous amount of hours, but it seems hopeless."

Rand studied his mother's pinched features and suddenly realized how much tension she'd been under these past months. She rarely complained, but her health wasn't the greatest. She had her hands full with Mindi and the bookkeeping chores. Despite his protestations, she'd insisted on taking over the duties of secretary until he could hire someone. He didn't like putting so much pressure on her.

Tara bit her lip in uncertainty. She wanted to help and she longed to repay Dot for her kindness. “It doesn't really matter what time I check in at the motel. My reservation is guaranteed. It's entirely up to you,” she told Rand.

He felt torn between the need to retrieve vital files and a strong instinct that warned against keeping Tara under his roof any longer than necessary. His mother's distress tipped the scales. There really wasn't any choice. For the time being, his personal resentment had to be put aside. The decision wasn't an easy one to make.

“I have a lot of work to do tonight. If we can't raise those files this week I have to start contacting every bank, livestock broker, lawyer, doctor, vet, and businessman we've dealt with in the last year. That's only for tax purposes. The ranch business is even more complicated,” he said.

Sharing the complexity of the problem was as close as he would come to capitulation, and both women understood that. Dot sighed heavily, and the relieved smile she gave him expressed her appreciation. He managed a derisive grin for her. “Do you think I could get a cup of coffee?"

“I'll bring the whole pot to the office,” she promised.

Rand moved to the door and swung it open, then turned and motioned for Tara to precede him.

The action caught her off guard, but she recovered swiftly and led the way down the hall. She was uncomfortably conscious of him trailing close behind her, so she kept her shoulders straight and reminded herself to behave in a professional fashion.

Still, she hesitated as she entered his office. The room held so many memories that it was difficult not to react. There was a huge desk, and rows of bookshelves against the center wall of the room. The computer hardware was to the left of the desk and two leather armchairs were to the right, directly in front of an open fireplace.

Tara wished she could forget how many times they'd made love in front of the fireplace. Other than their bedroom, this was the only room where they'd had much privacy. Her body suffused with heat as the memories stirred latent fires.

Rand had been battling the same memories for a long time. He'd even considered moving his office to avoid the constant reminders. He'd stayed, and Tara would have to do the same if she was going to help. If they were going to accomplish anything, they'd have to forget personal matters for the time being.

Clearing her throat, she moved farther into the room and dropped her purse beside one of the armchairs. Then she moved toward the computer without hazarding a glance at Rand. She was aware of his close proximity, but she tried to concentrate on the job at hand.

“Are you absolutely certain your last secretary didn't erase all the information?"

“Pruitt used some sort of disk that ran a check on the memory system. There's plenty of information stored, we just can't bring it up. Liza changed the directory, and we can't crack her codes."

“Liza being the woman scorned?” she quipped, and then could have bitten her tongue. Rand went rigid with surprise, but didn't bother to respond. She was thankful. She sat down at the computer and reac-quainted herself with the keyboard.

“Do you have a list of all the old code names?"

“In the top drawer. They're the original ones you set up.” She'd sounded jealous. His reaction to the possibility stunned him. He didn't need that kind of aggravation.

Tara found the notebook and swiftly went though the lists of information to be retrieved. If each had its own complicated code her challenge would be enormous. If she could find a key word or phrase, then she might make faster progress.

“Have you kept a list of the commands you know won't work?"

Rand stepped close to the chair and reached into a drawer near her left knee. He was so close that she could smell the familiar fragrance of him and feel the heat radiating from his big body. She tensed and then mentally scolded herself for doing so. If she was going to work with him, she'd have to get used to having him near.

He handed her another notebook full of phrases and then watched while her fingers swiftly brought the computer screen to life. So cool and professional. He knew the depth of passion that bubbled under the surface of the professionalism, but he fought the memories.

“Pruitt used some basic commands to get us into the directory, but none of the listings produced the files we need."

“What sort of response did you get with the old codes?"

“Things like illegal device name, bad command or file name, something about the wrong number of parameters."

Tara tried a few common tricks to get into the computer's brain and spent a good bit of time familiarizing herself with the outdated equipment. She forced herself to concentrate on the computer and not her estranged husband. Once she felt comfortable with the system, she started doing some serious digging.

The room grew quiet except for their breathing and the light click of keys being typed in a steady rhythm. For a long time Rand was reluctantly mesmerized by the grace and speed of her fingers. He knew she was a genius with computers and that she was probably capable of retrieving his files if they could be retrieved. The knowledge didn't make it any easier for him to accept her help.

He knew, almost to the minute, when she succeeded in mentally shutting him out. Her work demanded total concentration, and she'd learned how to block out the rest of the world. He understood that, but he'd never realized how much he resented her ability to completely ignore his existence.

Dot brought them the promised coffee and watched the screen a while, then excused herself to check on Mindi.

Rand stayed close for a little longer, but eventually went to work at his own desk. Some time later Mike sauntered in and watched over her shoulder. He shook his shaggy head in bafflement and bid them both a good night.

As usual, when Tara sat down at a computer, she lost all track of time. She was aware of movement and activity about the room, but her total concentration was focused on solving the problem at hand. She always found the challenge exhilarating and tonight was no exception.

Rand had never fully understood her fascination with computers. He would often tolerate her inattention for a few hours, then bodily lift her from the chair, making sure that she found no fault with the interruption.

Tonight he stayed at his desk but didn't make much of a dent in his workload. His gaze constantly drifted toward Tara. After having fought the computer for weeks, he had a better understanding of the challenges it presented. He'd spent an inordinate amount of time trying to conquer the system. He could only hope that she had better luck than he'd had.

The thought brought forth a reminder of the high price he'd paid for her expertise. He wondered if she regretted her desire for a career. If not, then why had she come here with an offer to help?

One of Tara's hands left the keyboard and reached for her coffee cup. She lifted it to her lips without taking her attention off the screen. Rand was sitting at a right angle from her and could only see part of her face.

He saw her grimace and knew her coffee had been cold for more than an hour. It was well after midnight, yet she remained totally engrossed in her work.

Tara was getting stiff and her eyes were tired. The coffee had been a nasty shock, reminding her that she needed to take a break. She dragged her gaze from the screen and stretched her arms over her head, arching her back to ease the tension in her shoulders.

Turning toward Rand's desk, she was disconcerted to find his gaze following her movements. Her pulse quickened, and she cursed the blush that tinted her cheeks. They were both very much aware of how he used to help her relax. His big, strong hands could delight every nerve ending in her body and massage the stiffness from her limbs.

“Are you making any progress?"

His tone was neutral, and he didn't sound the least bit disturbed by memories. Tara told herself to accept the fact that she didn't bother him nearly as much as he bothered her.

“I'm finding out what won't work, but I haven't found anything that will work."

“Does that mean it's hopeless?"

“No. It just means that we're not dealing with any traceable command system. Your secretary obviously made up her own directory and that means we have to try to second-guess her."

Rand rose from his chair and stretched, keeping his eyes on her. She shifted her gaze and noticeably tensed when he moved, toward her.

“What now?"

“You'll have to tell me about Liza."

Rand frowned. “What do you mean?"

She turned to face him. “Have you tried to get in touch with her or found any notes that she left behind?"

“I called our lawyers and they said we can't file a complaint unless she deliberately destroyed the records. Their suggestion was to find her and threaten to prosecute. If I could have found her, I wouldn't have a problem. I've got a detective trying to track her down, but she's one clever lady."

“You admire that?” Tara asked.

“Not when clever means devious. She's both devious and malicious."

“Is she beautiful?"

“What the hell difference does it make?” he growled.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I'm just trying to get an overall picture of her. If I'm going to successfully break her codes, then I'll have to have some insight to her personality."

“For that you need to know what she looks like?” he asked.

“If she was beautiful and spoiled, then it might help to pinpoint her method of disguising the files."

Rand crossed his arms over his chest and didn't try to conceal his skepticism. “Did you make that up on the spur of the moment?"

Tara's eyes narrowed, and she debated about responding to his arrogant question. He could be maddeningly perceptive at times, and she was digging for clues to his relationship with Liza.

“If she was shy and mousy, she might have referred to you as Mr. McCain. If she was bold and brash she might have called you boss or boss man. If she was a femme fatale then she probably called you Rand Darling or Rand Honey."

“Why the hell does it matter?” he clipped. His eyes and tone were cold despite the warmth creeping up his neck.

“She might have used an appellation for a code reference,” Tara explained. “She could have left the directory in the form of a letter.” Swinging back to the computer, she typed in the command Dear John, then Dear Rand and Dear Boss. Those didn't offer any hope so she tried Rand Honey and Darling Rand. She even tried reversing each with Boss Dear, etc. Still nothing.

Rand was watching closely, and he made a suggestion. “Try Randall."

Tara tried not to hear a sultry voice cooing Randall, but she typed in the name with unnecessary force. It didn't work, so she added darling. Randall Darling didn't work, but Darling Randall shocked them both by immediately bringing forth an entirely new directory of codes.

Excitement coursed through Tara. She grabbed a formatted disk to make a copy of what was on the screen. She switched on the printer to get an additional copy. Rand was swearing steadily, but he'd grabbed a pad and pen to make his own copy.

“It's possible that she set up the directory so that we'll only have one opportunity to read the index. The same code words might not be effective a second time,” Tara explained.

“I don't see anything on that list that describes our files,” Rand commented.

“You said she was devious. She's not going to let us off too easy. We'll probably have to decipher every term and find the code to access each file, but at least we have something substantial to work with now."

Rand was impressed. If anyone else had found this directory they would have assumed they'd cracked the code, but Tara didn't take chances. She was good, damned good.

Dot stuck her head in the doorway and saw them both working furiously. “What's all the excitement?” she wanted to know.

“We're making progress,” Tara was pleased to report. She turned to give Dot a brief smile and then quickly turned back to the computer. “There's still a lot of work to be done. We haven't actually located the files, but we've discovered a directory of code names."

Dot offered a prayer of thanksgiving. She beamed a smile at both of them, but neither paid her any attention. Her smile widened. “I can't tell you how happy that makes me,” she exclaimed. “I want to hear the details, but I'm too tired to take it all in tonight. I'm going to bed."

They turned to wish her a good night.

“I've locked the house and turned off all the lights. Mindi's sound asleep. Her night light is on, and her door's ajar. I'll make up a bed in the guest room for Tara."

Dot left the room, but her last comment brought renewed tension between the room's remaining occupants. Tara lifted defiant eyes to Rand.

“You needn't go into a rage,” she argued before he had a chance to express his disapproval. “Lawton's not that far and I'm perfectly capable of driving myself to the motel. I'm not ready to quit for the night, but I'm not bound by any schedule."

With that she turned her back to him and ripped the paper from the printer. She pulled the floppy disk from the computer and carefully labeled the jacket.

Rand was annoyed, yet relieved by her attitude. His mother's assumption that she'd spend the night had infuriated him. If Tara had acted smug he'd have ordered her to the motel immediately. Since she resented being manipulated as much as he did, his anger abated.

“It's going on one o'clock. You'd better call the motel and cancel your reservation. I don't want to hear my mother's lecture on hospitality for the next ten years."

Tara could hardly believe her ears. Her gaze met his in amazement. She knew he wasn't the least concerned about his mother's lectures. She also knew that he didn't want her here. Even her help with the files wouldn't change that. What was his angle?

“Maybe I'd better ask if there are strings attached,” she insisted curtly.

His eyes flared at the taunt. “If it's your virtue in question, I can guarantee you don't have a worry."

Tara felt like hurling insults right back at him. “I didn't mean that and you know it,” she hissed. “Am I being allowed to stay with restrictions on whom I speak to and how I behave myself?"

“You're invited to stay because you're helping us out, period,” he countered.

“For how long?"

“For as long as it takes."

“Will you promise that I can stay until you find someone else to fill the secretarial position?"

“Is this a subtle form of blackmail?"

“It's called a compromise."

Her taunt held a note of challenge that Rand found impossible to resist. “Then the job is yours for as long as you can hack it, but you won't be granted any privileges that the other secretaries weren't given."

“I don't want any special favors from you or anyone else,” Tara declared. She certainly didn't want to take up where the last secretary had left off. “I'm not afraid of work."

For a long minute they just glared at each other. Then he asked her for her keys. “I'll get your bags out of the car and lock it."

Tara pointed toward her purse and turned her attention back to the computer. It wasn't nearly as aggravating and unfathomable as the man who owned it. She'd much rather spend her time communicating with a reliable piece of equipment than with an unreasonable man.

She heard the jingle of her keys and expected to hear him leave the room. Instead, she heard him swear savagely. Startled by his sudden eruption of temper, she swung around to see what had happened. Then she jumped to her feet and swiftly crossed the room.

“I told you where my keys were,” she snapped, a note of panic invading her tone. “I didn't expect you to scrutinize the contents of my purse."

She made a grab for the miniature picture album he was holding. It was a small brag book filled with recent photos of Mindi. He easily held it out of her reach.

Rand's eyes blazed in anger as be jerked her tightly against his chest with one iron-strong arm around her shoulders. He held her still while his eyes scalded her with the heat of his anger.

“Who the hell has been supplying you with pictures of Mindi?” he rasped, tightening his hold as she tried to twist from him. “I forbade anyone in this house to send you news of her. You forfeited any privileges that would ease the guilt of your self-indulgent escape. Did you deliberately encourage someone to stab me in the back?"

Tara ground her teeth together, refusing to respond to his outrageous question. Her eyes flashed with defiance and his grip tightened. He wasn't hurting her, but it was another form of torture to be held so close to his hard, muscled body. Her heart pounded raucously against the walls of her chest.

Her silence infuriated Rand. He was made even more furious when his own body began to respond to the feel of her breasts crushed to his chest and the soft, sweet scent of her perfume. He'd been too long without her, and he'd always found her irresistibly sexy. He couldn't afford a sensual attack on his defenses, so he abruptly released her and put some distance between them.

“I want to know who sent you all these pictures,” he said on a snarl. “I don't care who it was, they'll never work another day for me. I won't have anyone on my payroll who I can't trust."

“Maybe you should concern yourself with why someone would do it rather than why they did it without your knowledge."

“What's that supposed to mean?"

“I'm suggesting that someone understood my feelings. Someone knew it wasn't easy for me to be separated from Mindi, and that I hadn't forfeited any rights to share her special occasions. I wasn't here, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving her. If you hadn't been so totally unreasonable, I could have continued to visit."

“I was unreasonable?” Rand roared.

“You were certainly specific about my not being welcome in your house,” she argued bitterly. “You returned my letters and refused to speak with me on the phone.” She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and glared at him.

“I don't believe this!” he insisted, raking one hand through his hair in frustration. He tossed the book back into her purse and stared at her for several highly charged seconds, wondering what the hell she was talking about. All they'd done when she came home for visits was argue. They'd argued even more violently when he'd insisted on bringing Mindi back to Oklahoma. He'd been convinced that she wanted to sever all ties with his family.

He picked up her keys. “Let's call it a night before it's impossible to sleep under the same roof. Go to bed, and I'll get your cases. I can shut the computer down for the night."

Tara didn't argue. She was exhausted and emotionally drained. She left the office and found the guest room Dot had readied. She was indebted to her mother-in-law. Dot understood her need to be near Mindi. Rand would never understand her, but she'd had years to come to terms with that knowledge.

They didn't utter a word to each other when he brought her suitcase from the car. He placed it inside the door and then strode swiftly down the hall to the master bedroom. Tara quietly closed her door, leaned against it, and prayed for more courage.

It didn't take her long to prepare for bed, and she slipped gratefully between the sheets. She'd had a long day and needed sleep. Instead, she got hours of tossing and turning.

She hadn't imagined it would be easy. She'd anticipated Rand's hostility, yet she hadn't expected to be so unnerved by his proximity. She'd thought she could live in his house without wanting him. She'd thought wrong.

All the turbulent emotions Tara had suffered when she first left came rushing back with a vengeance. She'd been falling more passionately in love with him every day, and he'd been growing more indifferent to her. He and Mindi hadn't needed her, but her father had needed her desperately. She'd wanted to come home the first time Rand asked, but fate had thrown her a wicked, crushing curve.

Four

“Psst. Psst. Are you awake?"

Tara thought she heard the buzz of an alarm clock. Then again, she mused groggily, her alarm clock didn't talk to her. She turned her head toward the sound that was trying to penetrate the fog in her mind. Opening her eyes, she spied a cherubic face alight with mischief. She came fully awake and remembered where she was. A slow, incredibly warm smile lit her features.

“Good morning, Mindi."

“You're awake, aren't you?"

Tara's smile widened. “I'm awake."

“Good, ‘cause Daddy wouldn't like me to wake anybody up so early in the morning.” She kept her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and moved farther into the room. “He says it's not polite to wake up guests. Are you our guest?"

“Sort of.” Tara avoided a direct response. “I'm helping with the computer."

Mindi nodded in easy acceptance of the explanation. She was obviously very curious about their visitor and wasn't too shy to ask questions. Tara slid over a little and sat up against the head board. She patted the bed beside her in invitation.

Mindi grinned and quickly took the proffered seat. She crossed her legs at the ankle and her hands in her lap, looking very much a lady prepared to entertain guests. Her Minnie Mouse pajamas ruined the effect somewhat, but Tara was impressed.

“You have lovely manners,” she told her daughter.

“Thank you. I mostly have to pwactice on Wex and cowboys, but Gwan says it's important for a lady to have manners. Even little ladies, like me."

“Your gran is a very smart lady."

Mindi's vigorous nod set her curls bouncing and made Tara's smile widened. Her daughter was an enchantress and she didn't think she'd ever tire of watching her. She'd missed so much. It was time that could never be recovered. The best she could hope for was to share a part of the rest of Mindi's life.

“Are we the only two people awake?"

Mindi nodded again, this time negatively. “Gewaldine is cooking breakfast. Daddy's in the shower and you and me makes four people awake."

Tara's eyes widened with the expected reaction.

“Wow, you can count, too. You must be pretty smart."

Mindi beamed with pride. “I'm almost four years old,” she boasted. “Daddy says I'm beautiful and bwilliant!” she added while batting her eyes to appear modest. Tara wondered where she'd learned that particular trick.

“Mindi.” Rand's voice suddenly interrupted their cozy chat. He was calling to her softly, but Mindi noisily scrambled across the bed and dove beneath the covers. Her whispered instructions were loud and incriminating.

“Don't tell him I'm here,” she squealed while burrowing further under cover and pulling the blanket over her head. Her flurry of movements caught Tara off guard and left her without sufficient cover as Rand came through the partially open door.

One narrow strap of her nightgown had slipped off her shoulder and the gown's thin fabric was drawn taut across the fullness of her breasts. She felt the heat of embarrassment suffusing her body. Rand had seen every inch of her, of course, but that was a lifetime ago. They were total strangers now, antagonistic strangers.

She carefully pulled a sheet over her chest and summoned the courage to look him in the eyes. “Good morning,” she said in a voice more husky than she liked.

Her flushed, tousled beauty and husky tone created an ache in Rand that swiftly made him furious. He stiffened and his tone was harsh when he responded.

“What's good about it?"

Tara's hesitation drew his attention to the squirming mound beside her. For the first time since entering the room, his attention was diverted from Tara's loveliness. He needed the protection of anger, but the wriggling body had him guarding his tongue.

“Have you seen Mindi?"

Tara didn't want to set a bad example by lying, even if Mindi thought they were playing a game.

“What does she look like?” She stalled playfully.

Like you, the thought flashed in Rand's mind unbidden. He had to get Mindi and get the hell out of Tara's bedroom. Another glance at the obvious hump under the covers softened his expression a little and prompted him to tease.

“She looks like a small troll with green hair and warts all over her body,” he said.

“I do not!” Mindi declared indignantly, throwing off her covers and launching her small body into her father's arms. “I do not look like a green troll!” she insisted.

“Well, I guess you're not green."

“And I don't have warts.” No.

“And I'm not small."

Rand cocked a disbelieving brow. “You look small to me."

“That's just ‘cause you're big."

“And you're little."

Mindi quickly tired of the argument. “How did you know where to find me?"

“I smelled your perfume.” He continued to tease while gently grinding his chin against her neck and making her giggle.

“I don't wear perfume,” Mindi argued on another giggle. “You probably smelled Ms. Tara ‘cause she smells sweet."

Rand's suddenly piercing gaze caught Tara off guard. She knew her expression was filled with hopeless longing as she witnessed the loving exchange between father and daughter. Her lashes swiftly lowered to conceal such blatant vulnerability.

“You shouldn't have bothered Ms. Tara,” Rand scolded.

The brief glimpse of raw emotion he'd seen in her eyes renewed his anger and frustration. Tara had deliberately burned her bridges. It was too damned late for her to have an attack of conscience. He wasn't going to allow her to use Mindi as a temporary balm for whatever ailed her.

“I wasn't a bother, was I?” Mindi turned beseeching eyes on her mother.

“Not at all,” Tara managed in a low voice.

Rand ignored her and set Mindi on her feet. “It's time for you to get dressed and go help Geraldine."

Mindi started to argue, but her father's firm “Now!” made her reconsider. Tossing Tara a parting smile, she dashed from the room.

Rand didn't immediately follow, nor did he speak while Mindi was within earshot. When he finally directed his undivided attention toward Tara, she felt chills run up her spine. His eyes were as hard as she'd ever seen them.

In an unconsciously protective gesture, she pulled the sheet up to her neck. She knew instantly that the telltale action angered him further, yet any attempt to remedy the mistake would doubtless be construed as provocative.

“You don't need to hide,” Rand snarled. “I've never been partial to used goods."

Tara's face flamed, yet she wasn't about to defend her honor. Rand was the only man she'd ever slept with, but she knew he'd never accept the truth.

“I wonder how many men have been enticed by your beauty?” he continued to taunt. “How many men have been intrigued by your sensual disarray? How many men does it take to make a woman forget her marriage vows and her responsibility to her child?"

His contempt seared her heart. She'd hoped she was immune to any insults he might hurl. She'd thought she'd grown tough and hard enough to counter insult with insult, but her throat was suddenly constricted by a rush of tears. It took a monumental effort to keep them from escaping on a sob or falling in a deluge from her eyes.

She knew that Rand had every right to hate her, yet his scathing words still hurt. She'd been a rotten wife and mother, but she'd never been unfaithful. He might prefer to believe she was promiscuous, but the truth kept her from hanging her head in shame.

“If you stay another night, I want you on the other side of the house. I don't want Mindi to get in the habit of visiting you every morning."

Tara regarded him steadily, but didn't say a word in defense or argument. Rand gave her one last dismissive glance and left the room.

A ragged sigh escaped her. She closed her eyes and wearily rested her head against the bed. She told herself, yet again, that she deserved his contempt. She'd been a coward for a long time and then when she'd desperately wanted to come home, she had no longer been wanted.

She'd destroyed Rand's trust and trampled his pride. She'd been the one to leave. He'd stayed to face friends and employees. He had every reason to despise her and resent her return. Her true reason for staying away so long might appease him somewhat, but she could never tell him the whole truth. To do so would jeopardize her chance of ever getting partial custody of Mindi.

She could cope with Rand's animosity. She had to, for Mindi's sake. She couldn't take the chance of being declared an unfit mother in court. It would destroy her hopes of sharing her daughter's life. In this instance, the truth was a secret weapon she couldn't afford to use. Rand would have to go on resenting her. The most she could hope for was an uneasy truce.

One thing she didn't want was a repeat of this morning Mindi could wake her anytime. She was adorable. But Rand, still damp from a shower, was unbelievably sexy and desirable as he affectionately cuddled his daughter.

She was delighted that he could show Mindi so much affection, but she wondered what it would be like to warrant that kind of unequivocal love. She and Rand had married in a whirlwind of passion. Too soon they'd discovered she was pregnant. Mindi had come along nine months after they married and they'd never really had time to play. There had been little time for laughing, teasing, sharing. Sometimes Tara mourned for what might have been.

Throwing off the covers, she collected clean clothes and headed for the shower. There was no sense in rehashing all her past mistakes. She'd been spoiled and immature when they'd married. She hadn't really known what she wanted. It was different now. She wanted to help raise Mindi, to be her friend, and never again be separated from her child. If she could make peace with Rand, that would be a bonus.

By the time Tara entered the dining room, the rest of the family had gathered. Breakfast was informal with everyone coming and going at their own pace. They exchanged pleasantries as she took a seat and then Mindi begged to be excused.

“Daddy, can I be excused now and go outside? I ate all my breakfast, and I have to feed Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey, Sneezy—"

Rand interrupted the individual listing of kittens that were just weaned. “All right, you're excused, but take your dirty dishes to the kitchen and don't go out without a jacket. It's still a little cool."

“Okay.” Mindi was quick to obey. The lure of kittens guaranteed cooperation.

Tara's eyes followed her out of the room. She carried her bowl and glass rather precariously, with her tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated on the task at hand. A delighted grin lit Tara's features.

“Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey, and Sneezy?” She directed her query at her mother-in-law.

Dot smiled, too. “Her mother cat recently had seven babies. Mindi was having a hard time thinking of enough names. Then she remembered the seven dwarfs."

Soft, husky laughter escaped Tara. Each new insight to her daughter's personality was a delight.

The sound of her throaty laughter tightened the coiled tension in Rand. He laid down his fork and rose from the table. His eyes flashed to Geraldine as she came through the kitchen door with fresh coffee.

“When your daily help comes today, I want a room prepared on the west side of the house for Tara."

His order took everyone but Tara by surprise. The west wing of the house was where Geraldine preferred to live, but it was mostly reserved for hired help.

“Now why would I get another room ready when Tara already has a perfectly good room?” Geraldine inquired sassily.

Rand's expression grew more grim. “See that it's done or I'll hire someone who knows how to take orders."

He strode from the room without another word, leaving everyone stunned by his unusually harsh attitude. Geraldine snorted her disapproval, but Tara could tell the older woman was crushed by his unexpected attack. She was more like family than an employee, and he rarely spoke to anyone in such a callous fashion.

“Geraldine...” Dot started to apologize for her son, but the other woman waved away any sympathy. She poured them coffee and regained her composure.

“I'm sorry, Geraldine...” Tara began and refused to be silenced. “Rand loves you dearly, but he's not going to let you play cupid. He won't allow any interference where I'm concerned. We have to deal with some serious problems, but please don't assume that we can kiss and make up or that a bedroom on the family side of the house is appropriate. I'm thankful to be in the same house with Mindi. It's more than I'd hoped for, and I don't want to do anything to alienate Rand."

Geraldine sighed heavily and nodded. “I'll try to mind my own business and stay neutral, even though I've never been very good at either."

Her tone brought smiles to Tara and Dorothy. “It's tough for me, too, Geraldine,” said Dot, “but you know that Rand can't be pushed. We have to let him work out his own problems."

“Well,” Geraldine retorted, heading back to the kitchen, “we've survived his rotten temper for more than thirty years, I imagine we'll continue to survive."

When Geraldine was gone, Tara sipped her coffee and reintroduced the subject of Rand's foul temper.

“It's my fault that he snarled at Geraldine this morning. He must believe she's been supplying me with pictures and news of Mindi these past two years. He got into my purse for car keys and found the photo album I always carry. I didn't even think about having it with me. I never imagined that he might see it and be infuriated."

“I'll have to tell him that I'm the one who sent all the pictures,” said Dot. “He won't like it, but I never agreed to follow his ridiculous order in the first place. Your father was terribly ill and your mother was desperate for news of Mindi, too. I wasn't about to rob them of the joy of watching her grow."

Tara gave her a beautiful smile of thanks. “I don't want to be the cause of hard feelings between you and Rand, but I can never tell you how much your compassion has meant to me,” Tara said lightly, battling intense emotion. She knew Dorothy didn't want a pledge of undying gratitude, but she felt a tremendous need to express it.

“There were times when news of Mindi was the only thing that kept me sane. Knowing that she had you, Rand, and the whole ranch family caring for her was a blessing."

Dot gave her a searching glance. “I didn't set out to deliberately thwart his orders,” she explained. “I called your office about a week after Rand brought Mindi home. I was surprised when they said you weren't running the company. I called your parents’ home and your mother was very vague about your whereabouts.

“When I persisted, she admitted that there had been some sort of accident. She assured me you weren't seriously hurt and made me promise not to say anything to Rand. She said you were taking a long-overdue vacation. That's the last time she volunteered information about you until you moved back to Oklahoma City and began to do freelance work."

Tara realized she'd been holding her breath and let out a long sigh. She'd known that Dorothy and her mother had kept in touch this past year, but she wasn't sure how much of the truth her mother had shared.

“There was a disgruntled employee who set off a bomb in Dad's office building. No one was seriously hurt, but I was forced to reevaluate my priorities. It was still a long time before I could muster the courage to come back to Oklahoma, but it certainly took the thrill out of corporate life for me."

“Rand should have been there for you,” Dot argued. “He would have come. You shouldn't have faced something so traumatic by yourself."

Tara idly twisted a napkin through her fingers and chose her words carefully. “Our marriage was over by that time, Dot. I didn't want Rand involved, nor did I want sympathy. My parents were with me and, thanks to you, I had news of Mindi. For a while, that was all I needed."

Dorothy disagreed, but she didn't contradict. Whatever had happened during the unaccounted for time period was obviously too painful for Tara to discuss.

“Regardless of your decisions at that time, I'm certainly glad you decided to come home now,” Dot told her sincerely. “Rand and Mindi need you. They may not be aware of how much they need you, but I am. I won't always be here for her. Even if you never work out your personal problems, you both love Mindi. She's growing up so quickly, and she can't have too much love and support in this day and age."

“I'm going to make Rand believe that,” Tara pledged. “He can hate me, but I'm going to prove that I'm good for Mindi. I don't like the idea of passing a child from parent to parent, but at least she'll have the security of knowing that both parents truly want her."

“Yes, and this fall she'll be going to preschool. Even at that early age the other children will want to know all about her parents. She's lived a fairly sheltered life, but that won't always be the case,” Dot reminded.

“Thanks to you and Rand, she seems capable of handling all the challenges of a growing child. She's certainly emotionally secure. I couldn't want anything more for her."

Tara rose from her chair and moved around the table. “Thanks for everything,” she said, giving Dorothy an affectionate hug. “Now if I don't get to work, my new boss may have me tarred, feathered, and run off the ranch."

Dot chuckled at her choice of words, then halted Tara's progress. “There's just one more thing I'd like to say to clear the air. When Rand first brought you home as his wife, I resented you very much, and I'm sure I made that painfully obvious. When Mindi was born I acted like a mother hen and declared myself better prepared to care for her. I made a lot of mistakes that must have caused you heartache. I'm sorry for that."

Tara flashed her a smile. “If I'd never made a mistake in my life, I might hold it against you. However...” she drawled dramatically, then left the sentence unfinished.

Dorothy's chuckle followed her out the door. A happy smile curved her lips. Tara's heart felt lighter than it had in years. Oklahoma was good for her. The McCain ranch felt like home, despite Rand's animosity. She could be happy here even if he never accepted her right to belong.

She had no illusions about their marriage, but she knew she could become a vital, productive part of this household if he'd allow her to prove herself. Time and patience were the keys to proving herself. If she could just remember to keep her temper reined and not let him incite her to violence.

The brief time they'd lived together as man and wife had been emotionally turbulent. Now she had learned to control her emotions and could probably teach him a lesson in constraint. Not that he was likely to ask for lessons.

The very thought deepened her smile and lit her eyes with mischief. The day Rand McCain willingly asked her for anything would have to be declared a holiday, because it would surely be a day for celebration.

Five

Her smile quickly altered when she entered his office. He was there, looking grim, and she could tell that her good humor annoyed him even more. Mike was also in the room and so was Curt Hayden.

Curt was another devoted employee of the McCain family. Tara didn't know anything about his background or personal life, but guessed his age to be near Rand's thirty-three years. He was tall, powerfully built, and attractive in a rough fashion, but he'd never seemed very friendly. He got along well enough with the rest of the family and staff, but never with her. She didn't know if he disliked her or just disliked women in general.

When she was younger, she'd been very uncomfortable in his presence. He was one of the reasons she'd never spent a lot of time learning the day-to-day operation of the ranch. She'd always been conscious of his disapproval. Judging by the cool look her gave her, that hadn't changed, but her ability to deal with troublesome people had improved considerably.

The men rose to their feet as she came into the room.

“Good morning,” she said lightly. The smile in place now was her high-powered executive smile. Dressed in a white silk blouse and tailored yellow slacks, she would have been accepted anywhere, but her excellent taste in clothing only represented a fraction of her style.

Her back was straight, her head high, and her eyes sparkled with a gleam of challenge. She'd learned she could intimidate a lot of unethical business people with just a handshake and the light of battle in her eyes. Those who had been wise enough to see through her façade had also been wise enough to never underestimate her.

She walked directly to Curt Hayden and offered him her hand. For just an instant, she thought he'd ignore the gesture. His gaze locked with hers in nonverbal communication, and then he slowly accepted her hand.

“Tara,” was all he said in greeting.

“Curt, it's been awhile."

The handshake was firm, but brief, the message clear. She was no longer an immature bride to be barely tolerated. She was a woman now, an intelligent, strong-minded woman. Like it or not, she was here.

“Rand says you've already made progress."

It wasn't actually praise, but it was the greatest effort Curt had ever made toward conversation with her. The cool blue of his eyes warmed just a little with grudging respect.

“Luck played a big part, I'm afraid.” Her confession was honest and her derisive smile encompassed all three men. The brittle executive vanished as quickly as she'd been summoned.

“I am itching to get back at it this morning, though,” she declared with a glance in the computer's direction.

“You're a computer junkie, girl,” Mike accused. “I warned you years ago that you were headed toward addiction."

She easily returned his banter. “And I told you that anyone can be a computer whiz. All you have to do is apply yourself."

The suggestion brought groans from all three big men. Their idea of fun was challenging the elements, battling the unknown, and spending as much time as possible in the great outdoors.

“I'd rather eat cow pies,” Mike proclaimed with feeling, just as Mindi had done at the table last night.

Tara's gaze locked with Rand's for the first time since entering the room. His expression was less grim, but he seemed to keep a wary eye on her every second they were together.

“Mike's responsible for a lot of Mindi's bad habits,” he responded to her unspoken query. “He teaches her all kinds of interesting expressions."

“The child needs a well-rounded education. I'm working on her colloquial euphemisms."

Tara couldn't help but laugh, the sound husky and melodious. Her eyes sparkled and her sable hair bounced as she shook her head in resignation. The man was outrageous.

She noticed that even Rand and Curt managed a smile, but she also realized they were growing impatient. It was springtime in Oklahoma and that meant a lot of work to be done on the ranch.

“I think I'd better leave on that one. I can come back when you're finished.” She knew they started most days with a planning session. Due to the size of the ranch and variety of work to be done, each man took charge of separate crews for the day, but each always knew where the others could be found.

“We're finished,” Mike told her. “Curt and I were just leaving. Rand wants to spend the day playing with his computer."

His attempt at humor earned him a malevolent look from his boss and swift prodding from Curt to be on their way. They left with a respectful nod for Tara.

As soon as they were gone, she wished them back. Being alone with Rand was an all-consuming challenge to her senses. The temperature in the room rose instantly and the tension crackling between them was intense enough to singe.

“Where do we start?” he asked.

“We need to start deciphering those codes.” Tara moved across the room and sat down at the computer. She switched on the power and lightly ran her fingers over the keyboard.

Some of the tension drained from her body. She was comfortable with her work and secure in the knowledge that she could cope with computer problems. She had to put her personal feelings for Rand out of mind so she could really be a help to him.

As expected, she couldn't bring up the code names again, for they'd been deleted after the first findings. They'd have to work from the printout.

Rand swore softly when he realized what his previous secretary had done to booby-trap the system.

“It doesn't matter as long as we have the file names and the files are still on the memory system,” Tara explained. “We can find them now."

Rand wasn't as sure as she seemed to be. The complexity of Liza's methods still had him confused. He read and reread the list of codes they'd copied last night, but not one word made sense to him or vaguely resembled his file names.

“Is there a chance that Liza set up several counterfeit codes lists and that this is just a fluke? None of these words makes any sense to me."

Tara grimaced. “It's possible. It depends on how much time she had, how well she understands the legal risks involved, and how angry she was.

Rand knew how furious Liza had been. She was a beautiful, sensuous woman who'd never been rejected by any man. She'd tried every trick in the book and then ranted and raved when he'd told her that he wasn't interested.

She'd been irate, but hadn't had a great deal of time to do damage to his filing system. When he'd finally convinced her that he didn't intend to have an affair with her, she'd packed her bags and left within twenty-four hours.

Tara was watching Rand closely and knew he was thinking about Liza. Jealousy, hot and stinging, coursed through her. Had he given in to temptation? Had the scorned woman been his mistress and then wanted more and become demanding?

How much had Rand cared? She'd lived in fear of him falling in love with someone. She had no real hold on him should he ask for his freedom. She knew he was a virile, passionate man. What she didn't know was how many women had tried to seduce him or if any had succeeded.

The thought put an edge on her voice as she demanded his attention. “Did Liza have a penchant for puzzles or mysteries? Did she like word-find games or those puzzles where you jumble the letters of a word?"

Rand noted her irritation and returned her unblinking gaze while answering the sharp question. “I have no idea what Liza liked or what games she played. We weren't bosom buddies."

Tara felt herself flushing and lowered her eyes to the keyboard. She was a fool to think he was going to tell her anything about his personal feelings. He'd never done so when they were living together, and he wasn't about to start sharing secrets now. She needed to keep their relationship strictly professional, but it was tough.

“If none of these words makes any sense, then we could try to scramble the letters and see if we can come up with more meaningful words."

“What do you mean by scramble?” He pulled a chair beside hers and held the page of words in front of them.

“There are all sorts of codes. Some are like games you play by substituting one letter for another throughout a message. Another form is to jumble the letters of one word to make another word. There are lots of possibilities, we just have to find the one Liza used."

Rand wondered if she dealt with this sort of sabotage on a regular basis, but didn't ask. The less he knew about her professional life, the better.

“Give me some examples."

“Take the word tan. If you scramble the letters it can also spell ant. If you use a substitution game and exchange one letter for another, you have hundreds of possible codes, even for three letter words."

“You mean ‘a’ represents V and ‘d’ stands for ‘t', that sort of exchange.” Yes.

Rand swore again. He didn't like the odds and he didn't have time for mind games. “What do we try first?” he growled.

“Well, I'm good at unscrambling words. If you want to try an exchange code or just take half the list, maybe we can save some time."

There were sixteen words listed on the page. “I'll take the second eight and try the scrambling method, too."

“Okay.” Tara began to study the first of her eight words. Rand took a copy of the list to his desk and worked there. The room grew quiet while they concentrated.

She was so intent on the project that she nearly jumped out of her chair when the telephone rang. She turned toward Rand as he answered and was amazed to hear him greet her mother. She immediately rose from her seat and moved to his desk.

She expected anger and was surprised when he handed her the receiver with no show of expression.

“Hello, Mother?” She spoke into the phone and felt a rush of guilt at the obvious relief in her mother's tone.

“Tara, I've been so worried,” Doris exclaimed. “I left a message at the motel where you were supposed to be staying and when you didn't call, I started calling you every half hour. I was getting frantic by the time I realized you must have stayed at the ranch."

“I am really sorry,” Tara assured, self-consciously aware that he could hear every word of their exchange. “It was late when we decided to call it a night and I just forgot to call you."

“You're all right?"

“Yes, I'm fine and I am sorry for being so thoughtless."

“Don't worry about it, honey, as long as you're okay and you didn't have any problems."

Tara spared Rand a glance at the mention of problems. She wasn't surprised to find him steadily returning her regard. “Life would be dull without problems, Mother,” she declared lightly, “but I'll survive and everyone else here is fine."

“Mindi?” There was such wistfulness in her mother's voice that Tara felt another sharp sting of guilt.

“She's absolutely lovely. So happy and healthy and secure. She's grown up so much.” She found it hard to speak of her daughter without the threat of tears.

“I knew she would be, darling. Could you give her a kiss and hug for her grandma?"

Tara had to turn from Rand's watchful eyes. “I'll have Dot give her a double dose of grandma hugs and kisses."

Doris’ sad sigh was audible only to Tara. “Will you be staying at the ranch?"

“For a little while."

“Is Rand being unbearably difficult?"

Tara had to smile derisively, but she kept her tone light. “No more than expected.” She didn't want to discuss Rand. “How's Daddy?"

Doris knew it must be hard for Tara to talk freely to her, so she accepted the change of subject. “Your father is doing very well. He's sticking to a four-hour day at work and taking care of himself."

“Good.” Tara smiled with pleasure. “You take care of him and yourself. I love you both."

“We love you.” The simple declaration was exchanged whenever daughter and parents spoke on the phone. It had become a talisman for them after years of personal trauma.

“I'll call you this evening,” Tara promised. “I should get back to work."

“Okay, sweetheart, we'll talk later. Good-bye for now."

“Good-bye.” Tara turned toward Rand and replaced the receiver. She knew he would find her conversation with her mother very strange, but she was reluctant to satisfy his curiosity.

“When did your mother start keeping tabs on your whereabouts? I don't remember her ever sounding so frantic if you didn't call at an expected time."

Rand always seemed most astute when Tara least wanted him to be. “She's been a little paranoid since Daddy had his stroke.” She silently begged her mother's forgiveness for the white lie. “She worries if I don't call regularly, and I did promise I'd call from the motel last night. I should have remembered."

Rand knew she wasn't telling him the whole truth and it irritated him to the point of anger. Her explanation might make sense, but she was hiding the true reason for her mother's concern. He didn't like the suspicious behavior, nor did he trust her motives.

“You should have told her you were planning to spend the night here,” he snapped, infuriated by her secretive attitude and even more infuriated by how deeply it concerned him.

Tara's eyes sparkled with annoyance, yet she managed to bite her tongue until the urge to retaliate passed. She didn't want to start another argument, so she ignored his taunt and went back to her seat. It was awhile before she could concentrate on the list of words she'd been studying, but she forced herself to try. He appeared to do the same and the room grew quiet again.

The phone rang several times during the next hour and Tara was aware of Rand discussing business matters. The one-sided conversation reiterated his need for the information buried on computer files. She became even more determined to help him. She wasn't about to let some spiteful floozy destroy years of hard work.

Entering all sixteen code words onto a new computer file, she decided to use a different method of decoding, but her attention was diverted by the sound of Dorothy calling Rand's name repeatedly and with increasing alarm.

Tara realized that she'd never heard Dorothy's voice ring with alarm, and the sound had them racing toward the back of the house. Dorothy and Geraldine had exited the kitchen in a rush and were at the porch door heading toward the backyard.

“Mindi fell from her swing,” Geraldine offered in the way of explanation as all four adults hurried to the small playground. “We were watching her from the kitchen window. She was standing up and swinging too high."

“I called to her to be careful,” Dorothy added, “but I startled her and she lost her balance."

An overwhelming panic engulfed Tara at the thought of Mindi falling so hard. The possibilities for at least a dozen debilitating injuries flashed through her mind. When she actually caught sight of her daughter lying flat on her back and lifeless beneath the swing, she started to tremble and grow weak with fear.

Dorothy and Rand both knelt to the ground and spoke to Mindi while Geraldine and Tara stood near. Rand slowly and carefully examined Mindi's small limbs for any sign of fractured bones. The main concern was for her head and spine, but they all knew he had to be careful not to move her until he was sure it wouldn't do more harm.

Mindi's eyes opened slowly and her face puckered in a frown as she studied their concerned expressions. Then she remembered what had happened and began to cry in frustration.

“I falled off my swing,” she sobbed as she effortlessly rose from the ground and launched herself into Rand's arms.

A collective sigh escaped them as he gathered her close and offered some comfort. He cupped the back of her head in his large hand and declared that she had quite a goose egg.

“Another crisis survived,” Geraldine muttered, her breathing still rough from exertion. “I'm gettin’ too old for this sort of excitement."

“Me, too,” Dot agreed with a sigh. She brushed the last tear from Mindi's cheek and smiled encouragingly.

“I imagine you'll have a bit of a headache this afternoon and we'll watch your eyes for dilation, but I think you'll be just fine."

“What's dilation?” Mindi asked, bringing a smile to her father's handsome face. Rand stood her on her own feet and turned her toward the house. “I'll bet Geraldine would love to explain while you're getting cleaned up."

“Yes indeed, there's nothing I love better than answering questions,” Geraldine grumped, but her smile was warm as she reached out a hand to capture Mindi's. “I'll explain all about bumping your head while we get the dirt and leaves off you and brush your hair."

Tara watched the two of them head toward the door, unaware that both Rand and Dorothy were watching her just as closely. Her stance was rigid, her eyes unnaturally bright in a deathly pale face. There could be no doubt that she was badly frightened. Dorothy reached out a hand in comfort and found that Tara's hands were ice-cold.

“She's okay, Tara,” Dot insisted. “This isn't the first time she's had a bad fall and it probably won't be the last. Remember the time she fell down the stairs? You were the one who kept a cool head while everyone else panicked. You always seemed to handle her upsets with more calm than the rest of us."

Tara knew Dot was trying to reassure her with reminders from the past, but the only image that came to mind was of Mindi lying so still and looking so pale and lifeless. She couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to her and she couldn't control her pallor or her frantically beating heart.

“The original ice woman,” Rand drawled softly, baiting Tara to snap her out of her fear. Seeing her so shaken was as disturbing as seeing Mindi hurt. “You were always the tough one when it came to handling this sort of situation."

“People change.” The statement was flat and her features expressionless as she spoke it. The truth of it hung heavy in the air as she slowly turned to follow Geraldine and Mindi into the house.

Her legs were still trembling. Tara prayed she wouldn't collapse and make a complete fool of herself. She fought for control and her efforts were rewarded as she entered the house. Geraldine was promising a special treat and the sound of Mindi's delighted giggles filled the kitchen. Tara basked in it for a short while and then forced herself to go back to the office.

Rand entered the room a few minutes later. He might have thought Tara hard at work if he hadn't seen her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. He knew she was still fighting for control, and her reaction to Mindi's fall seemed totally out of character. He couldn't figure it out.

The woman had been under his roofless than twenty-four hours and already she was messing with his mind, he thought in disgust. What the hell difference did it make? He didn't want to know about all the hang-ups she might have acquired.

When Tara became aware of his presence, she reached for the keyboard and began typing. At his desk, he picked up the list of words he'd been studying. He stared at it for several minutes without really seeing it. His mind flashed back to the image of Tara as she'd greeted Curt this morning; chin high and challenge in her eyes. Then he had an altogether different vision of the way she'd reacted to Mindi's mishap. The two images were totally conflicting and neither was representative of the woman he thought he knew.

That she could come on strong and forceful wasn't surprising. She'd always been spirited, and she'd been a top executive in her father's firm. That she could look so shattered over Mindi's welfare was harder to accept. She'd put her career ahead of their child's well-being, so why was she acting so concerned at this late date? Why was she here and what did she really want?

People change. Tara's terse statement taunted him. He'd certainly changed in the past two years, but he doubted that her basic nature could have changed so radically. The fact that she'd come back to the ranch was proof of her selfish desire to have her own way, regardless of the problems it could cause everyone else involved.

Muttering an oath, he forced aside thoughts of her and concentrated on the eight words he needed to rearrange. He'd already scrambled and substituted every way he could think to try. He read them backward, forward, and sideways.

There didn't seem to be a common denominator. He read them once again, underlining the first syllable in each word, and then hope flared.

“Tara.” He was on his feet and moving toward her. “If you highlight the first letter in each word, my list spells finances."

Her eyes widened and she scanned the top half of the list; payment, employee, ranch, saddle, “My half spells personal. Personal finances."

Excitement rippled between them. He pulled a chair close to hers and watched as she typed in several commands to gain access to a file named personal finances. The two words alone wouldn't work, but she tried abbreviated forms with several common computer commands. Finally with the command: run per. fin., the screen lit with the introductory page of the file. Rand's social security number, address, age, and other identifying information were illuminated.

He was grumbling rather crude words of relief while Tara quickly set up the printer to accept a print screen command. After the initial page was copied, she moved on to the next page. With a deep sigh of relief, she relaxed, pleased that she had retrieved some of his vital information.

“I can finally get started on taxes,” he said, leaning closer to read the data on the screen.

The elation of success was slowly replaced by a sharp awareness of Rand's big warm body so close to her own. His chest brushed against her shoulder while the arm he'd absently thrown across the chair was blanketing her back with heat. The musky, male scent of him saturated her senses. Her pulse began to pound in a heavy rhythm that nearly stole away her breath. It was the first time in years that their bodies had touched in a perfectly natural manner.

When the second screen was finished printing, Tara reached toward the keyboard at the same time Rand shifted. Their bodies collided. Their eyes were so close that each had time to register the other's reaction. Tara's expression was bland, lacking censure or alarm. She'd had adequate time to control her features.

His reaction was instantaneous and unconcealed. His eyes flashed with sensual awareness and a raw hunger that shocked both of them. Waves of heat vibrated between them and then his eyes darkened with anger and self-disgust.

He swiftly distanced himself from her, raking a hand through his hair in agitation. “Will we have to solve a puzzle for every single file we need to retrieve?"

“Probably.” She was mentally withdrawing from the temptation he embodied. “It might be different for each file."

“Why are you printing one screen at a time? Do you think we'll lose the information if you try to print the whole file?"

“I'm not sure enough to take a chance. I know you need the files as soon as possible, but I'd rather be slow and thorough."

Rand nodded. He hated wasting time, but there was little choice. They couldn't risk losing everything.

“If it's going to take a while, I'm going out to help Mike. I can work on this statement tonight while you search for the next set of clues."

He started to leave, but Tara reached out a hand to halt him. Initiating physical contact of any kind was dangerous, but she chanced it.

Rand glanced at the hand on his arm and then reached a brow in surprised query.

Tara quickly removed her hand. “Are you going to check on Mindi?"

“Yes,” he grudgingly replied.

Tara nodded in satisfaction. Geraldine and Dot would be monitoring Mindi's activities, yet it seemed important that she or Rand do so, too.

The problem was immediately resolved as Dorothy and Mindi knocked on the open door and then entered the office.

“We heard the printer running and thought you might have good news,” Dot explained their sudden appearance. “Mindi was getting sleepy, so I thought we'd better come in here and help."

Dot's eyes met Rand's with a silent message. They couldn't let Mindi take a nap too soon after her fall, so they needed to keep her entertained.

Tara was quick to react. “Would you like to help me with the computer?"

Mindi's eyes lit with enthusiasm, but she glanced at her dad for approval. She was perceptive and remembered the initial antagonism between him and their guest.

Rand didn't like it, he didn't want Mindi to get too fond of Tara, yet he found himself nodding his consent. Mindi was across the room in a flash.

“She's been showing quite an aptitude for computers,” Dot declared.

Tara smiled. “That doesn't surprise me a bit,” she said as she readily scooped Mindi into her arms and onto her lap.

For Tara, the rest of the world faded in significance. She had her baby in her arms for the first time in years, and she feasted on the thrill of that accomplishment. She showed Mindi which button to press for a print-screen and praised her when she set the printer in motion. Then she gave her a quick hug and buried her face in the silken softness of her daughter's hair.

“Gee, your hair smells delicious!” she teased.

Mindi giggled. “That's ‘cause I use stwawberry shampoo."

Tara laughed with her while inconspicuously running gentle fingers over the shrinking bump on Mindi's head. She was reassured that the child's injury was already healing, so she relaxed and began to entertain her with keyboard games.

Rand spent several minutes watching the two of them and was disturbed by Tara's little protective action. Something tightened within him, but he didn't analyze his reaction to seeing the two heads of satin curls so close together. He couldn't change Mindi's genetic makeup, nor would he want to, yet he sometimes wished she weren't an exact replica of her mother. 1 m going out.

Dot nodded, aware of his mixed emotions. “If nobody needs me for a while, I think I'll take a nap."

Rand glanced at Tara and Mindi, then back to his mother. The two of them left the room without another word. They weren't needed at the moment. For Dorothy, it was a welcome relief; for Rand it was painfully disturbing.

Six

Life fell into a fairly comfortable routine for the next two weeks. Tara spent her mornings working in Rand's office. Most afternoons she took charge of Mindi for a little while to give Dot a chance to rest. In the evenings, after Mindi was put to bed, she and Rand worked together on his files. The recovery of each file was time-consuming and frustrating, but they made steady progress.

Tara didn't even go to Oklahoma City for clothing. She secretly feared that Rand wouldn't let her return if she left. Geraldine recovered some of her old clothes that had been stored in the attic, and she could still wear most of them. They were more casual than those she'd worn recently, but they were comfortable and on hand.

The sexual tension between her and Rand grew more volatile with each passing day. Tara had hoped it would die a natural death if they ignored it, but the opposite occurred. Every time they were close, each time they accidentally touched, and every time their gazes met, sparks flew. He began spending more and more time outdoors and both of them made a determined effort to avoid personal contact.

Tara and Mindi became friends. Tara didn't interfere in family matters nor did she try to undertake any parental duties. Rand, Dot, and Geraldine still took care of Mindi's everyday needs, but Tara spent quality time getting to know her daughter. They talked, played, and shared secrets, quickly becoming devoted to each other.

Tara rarely left the house. She sometimes went outside for a picnic with Mindi or to swing her in the little play yard, but she didn't venture onto what she considered Rand's territory. He never suggested that her interest would be welcome, and she was reluctant to invade any more of his personal space.

She'd always been curious and fascinated by the workings of the ranch, but she'd never made an issue of learning more. Any declaration of interest at this late date would doubtless be considered insincere, so she had to be satisfied with the growing rapport between her and Mindi.

She tried not to dwell on the past or fantasize about the future. She'd learned to take one day at a time and make it count. It wasn't always easy, but it was working.

On Monday, the first day of May, Tara was sitting in her usual position in front of the computer, but finding it hard to concentrate. She was suffering from a severe case of spring fever, and although loathe to admit it, her thoughts were filled with images of her husband.

Rand's thick, wind-tousled hair. Rand's beautiful eyes. Rand's broad chest, muscled arms, and hard torso. His tight jeans. The man was driving her crazy, and he wasn't even trying. He invaded her dreams and occupied her mind during nearly every waking hour. She was getting little sleep and growing more sensitive each day.

The telephone rang, and Tara jumped guiltily. She'd been handling most secretarial duties of late, and she answered the phone with professional ease. “McCain residence."

The person on the other end of the line seemed to hesitate at the sound of her voice. Several callers had reacted the same way, but had stated their business without insisting she identify herself. This caller wasn't going to be so cooperative.

“To whom am I speaking?” the female voice inquired.

“This is Mr. McCain's secretary. How may I help you?"

The caller wasn't satisfied. “I wasn't aware that Mr. McCain had a new secretary. Have you been working for him very long?"

Tara wanted to tell her it was none of her business, but she refrained. “I've only been here a short while."

Her tone grew cooler after she'd mentally identified the caller. Stephanie Winston was a neighbor and friend of the family. She was also one of Rand's old girlfriends, recently divorced.

“I'd like to speak with Mr. McCain, please. It's important.” Stephanie assumed an authoritative tone, obviously frustrated by Tara's uninformative replies.

Tara was about to tell her that Rand was unavailable, hut he came through the door before she could respond. He shook his head, signifying he didn't have time to talk to anyone, but she mouthed Stephanie's name.

He immediately reached for the receiver, noting Tara's bland expression and wondering what had transpired between the two women. They'd never been very fond of each other.

“Hello, Steph, are you just getting home from your globe-trotting?"

Tara didn't hear Stephanie's reply. She deliberately walked across the room to avoid hearing anything he had to say to his lady friend. Emotions, raw and primitive, churned within her even though she had no right to resent his friendship with another woman. There were doubtless dozens of women who'd been willing to keep him company over the past two years, but she couldn't bear to dwell on the knowledge.

Rand finished his conversation and hung up the phone, his gaze never leaving Tara. She was wearing old blue jeans and a sweat shirt that had been favorites before she'd started needing maternity clothes. The clothes weren't any tighter than they had been four years ago, but the figure beneath them had changed, growing fuller and more rounded. Vivid memories and his imagination were making him crazy.

He ached night and day with a hunger that resisted appeasement. Physical exhaustion didn't squelch the raging need, and fantasies had become nightmares of unfulfilled desire.

He was determined to ignore the attraction. Intimacy between them would be a stupid mistake, yet he needed relief from the incredible tension. If he weren't careful, the desire would consume him.

“Stephanie just got back from Europe. She invited Mom and me to have dinner with her tonight.” Rand didn't know why he was telling her, except that spending time with another attractive woman might eliminate some of the tension at home.

Tara was sure Mindi hadn't been included in the invitation. Stephanie didn't care for children. “I'd be happy to help Geraldine with Mindi,” she told him, keeping her tone determinedly light.

He studied her rigid posture and was torn between his need to get away and his reluctance to leave Mindi in her care. Geraldine wasn't feeling well and couldn't be expected to take on additional duties. His mother could use a night out, too, but would stay home before leaving Mindi with a babysitter.

“Your secretarial duties don't include baby-sitting."

“I said I didn't mind. I won't consider it a chore."

He continued to scrutinize her. She didn't turn to look at him when she spoke, and her tone seemed especially bland. What was she thinking and feeling? Did she want to care for Mindi or was she tired of spending so much time with a little girl? Was he a fool to leave Mindi in her care? He had no way of knowing what Tara really wanted.

“I'll see what Mom wants to do and let you know."

Tara nodded, afraid to respond. She'd been holding her breath since Rand first suggested she might be allowed to watch Mindi. When she heard him leave the room, she relaxed and allowed herself to breathe again. Maybe, just maybe, he was learning to trust her. Maybe she was making progress. Maybe there was hope for convincing him that she was sincere, that she truly loved their child and would never deliberately hurt his family.

The spark of hope brought elation that helped time fly. Dorothy was delighted by the prospect of going out to dinner, and Rand didn't change his mind about leaving Mindi with her. Geraldine didn't need to prepare a big dinner and so she happily retired for the evening.

Tara was as excited as her child when Dot and Rand finally left for Stephanie's house. As soon as the door closed behind them, she and Mindi hugged each other and giggled like schoolgirls.

“What are we going to do first?” Mindi wanted to know.

“Why don't we make a new party dress for Elizabeth Ann?"

Elizabeth Ann was Mindi's favorite doll. “Geraldine found some pretty pink fabric, and I think we can make a pattern from an old dress, then we can add ruffles and lace."

Mindi was already skipping toward her bedroom.

“Elizabeth Ann really needs a new dress. She's been wearin’ the same one all her life."

“Well, we can fix that. Then we'll fix something to eat, and if you promise to help me clean up the kitchen, I'll see if I can find some strawberry ice cream for dessert."

Mindi was delighted. She clapped her hands happily and spent the next hour chatting, giggling, and doing everything she was asked to do. Later, she even managed to eat her vegetables at supper and then clear their dirty dishes from the table.

“You are a really good helper!” Tara praised.

“You did pwomise stwawberry ice cweam,” Mindi reminded.

Tara laughed and hugged her. “I'm going to check the deep freeze. I'm sure I saw Geraldine stock it with several flavors."

“Gewaldine always gets stwawberry."

They both went to the deep freeze and began sorting through the contents. There were several containers of ice cream, but no strawberry. Tara searched until her fingers grew numb, but couldn't find Mindi's favorite flavor. She sighed as she closed the freezer door. “Somebody else must have beaten us to it. Would you like any other flavor?"

Mindi thought about the choices and then shook her head. “Stwawberry is my very favorite."

“How about brownies and ice cream for dessert?” Tara suggested, pleased that Mindi wasn't throwing a fit, yet distressed at having promised something she couldn't produce.

“Any stwawberry cookies?"

Tara smiled and searched the kitchen for cookies, but found only brownies and oatmeal cookies. “I think everyone else around here is partial to chocolate."

“Most everybody but me,” Mindi said with a sigh.

She was being such a good sport that Tara wanted to reward her. “Well, it's still early. Maybe we could drive into town and find some strawberry ice cream. What do you think?"

“Yes, yes, yes!” Mindi squealed, jumping up and down with enthusiasm. “The ice cweam shop has a bunch of stwawberry!"

“Then let's just get in my little red car and go to the ice cream shop."

Mindi raced to her bedroom to get a jacket. Tara left a note on the kitchen table explaining where they'd gone, then collected her purse and car keys. Within minutes the two of them had climbed in the car, fastened their seat belts, and started out the driveway.

But that was as far as they got. When Tara pulled to a stop at the gate, she found the exit barred to her. Donnie Pruitt came from the gate house and explained that she wasn't allowed to leave the property.

“I'm not allowed to leave?” she asked in amazement. She could imagine Rand locking her out, but she couldn't imagine being locked in.

“Mr. McCain's orders,” Donnie insisted, blushing but adamant. “Nobody's allowed to leave the property with Miss Mindi except him or Mrs. McCain."

Surprise gave way to comprehension and then a rush of resentment. Rand wasn't locking her in, just ensuring that she didn't leave with Mindi. He didn't trust her for a second, and he had no intention of trusting his child to her care.

“I'm really sorry, Ms. Tara, but it would cost me my job if I disobeyed a direct order."

He was noticeably upset, and Tara tried to contain her anger long enough to deal with more immediate problems.

“It's all right, Donnie, don't worry about it. Mindi and I were just going to town for some strawberry ice cream. It's her favorite and all we have at the house is chocolate and vanilla."

“Do you have any strawberries at the house?” Donnie asked hopefully. “You could mix them with vanilla ice cream."

Tara turned to Mindi and the child's eyes lit with interest. “Want to give it a try?"

Mindi nodded in approval, suddenly unconcerned about their aborted trip. “We could use Gewaldine's blender."

“Okay, that's what we'll try next. Thank you, Donnie, for that inspired suggestion. I should have thought of it myself."

Donnie grinned, his eyes sparkling at the praise.

Tara and Mindi told him good night and headed back to the house. Tara was still furious with Rand, but she didn't want to ruin her evening by dwelling on her resentment. She and Mindi dubbed their experience “The Great Strawberry Ice Cream Adventure” and raided the refrigerator as soon as they got back to the house.

They didn't find fresh strawberries, but they discovered some strawberry-flavored syrup.

“We can use the syrup with vanilla ice cream and make strawberry milkshakes,” Tara declared.

“Yes! Yes!” Mindi agreed, thoroughly enjoying their adventure. “Can I push the button that makes the blender smash the ice cweam?"

“Well, I don't see why not as long as you're careful,” Tara said as she gathered the necessary ingredients.

Together they mixed and drank thick strawberry shakes and then cleaned the kitchen again. Mindi chattered steadily while taking her bath, donning her pajamas, and settling into bed. Tara found an inordinate amount of pleasure in reading a bedtime story and tucking the covers about her small daughter.

In a matter of minutes, Mindi was fast asleep. Tara listened to her even breathing and spent the next half hour just sitting and watching her. She was so adorable. Having lost her for so long made her even more precious. She would never do anything to hurt her, including stealing her from her father.

Waves of anger and resentment coursed over her at the thought. She tried to gain control of her riotous emotions, but they could not be contained. Rand had believed her capable of kidnapping their child. He didn't trust her at all. He probably trusted her less now that she and Mindi had become friends. He had ordered his guards not to let her leave the ranch with Mindi!

His precaution made her furious, and, worse, it hurt. She desperately wanted him to trust her. She'd thought there was a chance that he might. His mistrust hurt more than she would have believed possible and the acute pain fueled more anger. Her temper simmered at a dangerously explosive level.

Her hands were ice-cold and she realized that she was trembling. Now that Mindi was settled, the full force of pain and anger enveloped her.

The front door opened and Tara quickly left Mindi's room. Rand and Dorothy were entering the house as she reached the hallway. Rand's gaze instantly locked with hers. Both sets were blazing with hot accusation. Dorothy wisely excused herself for the night and went to check on Mindi.

Tara's stance was rigid and belligerent, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Rand radiated an equal amount of anger and tension as he approached her.

“How dare you?” she whispered roughly, trying to control her temper and speak without choking on her fury.

“How dare you?” he countered. “The minute I turn my back, you try to take Mindi off the ranch."

As far as he was concerned, her actions were a condemnation, regardless of her motives. He turned away to toss his jacket on a nearby chair, and Tara swiftly closed the distance between them. She grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and demanded that he listen to her explanation.

“I was taking Mindi to town for ice cream,” she declared harshly, snatching her hands back to her sides. It was a mistake to touch him. Suddenly the pain that had been only emotional became intensely physical. His body was firm, warm, and vibrantly male. She wanted him desperately and he despised her.

“You didn't have to take her anywhere.” The flat statement didn't begin to express the churning anger he was experiencing, but his eyes were alive with emotion.

“I wanted to take her,” Tara countered furiously. “And I will not tolerate being treated like a common criminal! You have no right to dictate to me. You have no right to forbid me to leave this property, either with or without my daughter!"

Rand moved closer, dangerously close. Tara could feel his heat and smell his familiar cologne. She could also see the fury burning in his eyes as he lashed out at her.

“You have no rights,” he snarled. “You didn't want rights or obligations a year ago. Do you think two weeks of congeniality can erase months of desertion? Do you think I'm ever going to trust you with my daughter?"

Tara had never wanted to strike anyone as badly as she wanted to raise her hands and hit him. The need for a physical relief for pent up anger was almost overwhelming. Her nails bit into her palms as she tried to control the rage of frustration too long contained.

“Mindi is my daughter, too, however much you want to forget the fact,” she ranted, chest heaving and eyes flashing. “You might be able to play God with the rules while you're Lord of all you survey, but the cards won't be so heavily stacked in your favor if I'm forced to fight for Mindi in court. It's one battle you will not win!"

Rand grasped Tara's shoulders with both hands. His eyes were blazing as he retaliated. “Don't waste your stupid threats on me,” he ground out roughly. “You're never going to take Mindi from me. You're not fit to care for her, and I'll prove it in court, if necessary."

Incredible pain exploded throughout Tara as she jerked from his grasp. The argument was over, she wouldn't debate her fitness as a mother, and her throat was completely choked by tears. She couldn't offer another whisper in her own defense. The only coherent thought in her mind now was escape from the source of crushing anger and unending hurt.

“Tara!” Rand shouted as she fled the house and headed for her car. He knew she wasn't in any state to be driving, and no matter how furious she made him, he didn't want her to get killed or kill someone else.

“Tara!” he shouted again as he heard her engine roar to life. He started to follow, but stopped long enough to call Pruitt at the front gate.

Tara's hands were shaking. Turning the key in the ignition took monumental effort, but then she spun the car around and headed down the drive. Her heart was racing as fast as the car's engine. It steadily pumped the pain throughout her veins and shudder after shudder ripped at her insides, making her weak and weepy. Tears started pouring from her eyes as she approached the gates.

Her foot hit the brake to slow the Porsche, but the action was unnecessary. The big iron gates were already swinging open to allow her to leave. More pain washed over her, and a sob tore at her throat. Rand wouldn't let her leave with Mindi, but he gladly had the gates open for her departure. He wanted her out of his life. That shouldn't hurt anymore, but somehow it did. The hurt was almost unbearable.

She raced from the ranch entrance and onto the main road, her tires squealing in complaint as she floored the gas pedal. Then she drove at a breakneck speed until the tears were gushing from her eyes faster than she could wipe them. Before long she was completely blinded and forced to a screeching halt at the side of the road.

Years of heartache and pain destroyed what was left of her composure as she convulsed into uncontrollable weeping. Her body was wracked with sobs as she remembered the repeated pain of Rand's rejection, the separation from her child, and the secret pain that she could never share with anyone. Leaning heavily on the steering wheel, she wept raggedly.

When Rand finally caught up with her, he parked his truck in front of the Porsche and flipped on the emergency flashers. Tara's engine was running, but he could see her slumped over the wheel. For an instant he felt unreasonable panic, then he jerked open her car door and heard her sobbing. She was hurting, maybe worse than physical injury, but she was alive.

“Tara.” His voice was so gruff it sounded angry. “Switch off your engine."

She tried to regain control, but it was impossible. She ignored Rand until he tried to reach over her and take her keys. Then she came flying out of the car and continued to flay him with her anger and resentment.

“Don't touch my car, damn you. It's mine, all mine, and I don't need to be told what to do with it!'

Rand was shaken by the agony he saw in her eyes. He'd allowed himself to believe she was too shallow to hurt, and he didn't like the evidence of the wracking pain.

“Stop fighting me, Tara,” he commanded gruffly, grabbing hold of her and trying to still the tremors that shook her body.

“I hate you!” she screamed hoarsely, beginning to pummel his chest with both fists. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

He felt her pain mingling with his own. His arms tightened, and he trapped her hands between them, pulling her as close as possible to his hard body.

“Settle down before you make yourself sick."

Tara felt trapped, trapped by her own pain, fears, and vulnerability. She shook her heard from side to side in an effort to ward off the suffocating truth, but nothing helped. She felt Rand's strength and knew he had the power to heal her hurt, but dared not accept the slightest comfort from his embrace.

“Let go of me!"

“No!” His hold tightened, forcing her head back against the car as he crushed her slender body between him and the Porsche.

“I don't want you touching me!” she gasped on another sob. She'd fall to pieces.

“Too late, lady. Far, far too late,” he added as his head descended, his mouth homing in on hers.

Tara knew he was going to kiss her and her heart screamed in denial of wanting. She couldn't let him take control. She'd lose herself too quickly, too completely.

But Rand couldn't be stopped. At first he just wanted to soothe and comfort, then the contact seared him. His mouth captured hers again and again with rough urgency that made her breath catch in her throat. He kissed her between sobs and gasps for air until the ragged crying stopped and wild abandon consumed them.

Tara's arms gradually slipped over his chest and locked around his neck. The heat of their bodies ignited into an inferno of need. Passionate fury swiftly gave way to another passion too intense and primitive to contain.

They stood at the side of the road straining for closer contact, straining to destroy the barriers that had kept them apart for so long. His arms enveloped her, dragging her closer to the hard, throbbing ache of his body.

The sudden glare of oncoming headlights brought a brief flash of sanity. Rand shielded Tara with his body and then urged her toward his truck. He'd picked up Donnie at the gate and now he motioned for the boy to drive Tara's car home. Then he lifted her into the seat and slid in beside her, offering her his handkerchief. In minutes they'd made the return trip and were parked in front of the house.

Tara mopped her face and blew her nose. An occasional sob caught at her throat. Her hands were still shaking and her whole body quivered. Rand was so close she could feel his heat and smell his delicious scent. Her own body was more vibrantly alive than it had been in years, yet fears and insecurities were swift to attack. Pain haunted her. Loving him would cause more pain; intense, unbearable pain. She was a fool to even consider letting herself love him physically, emotionally, completely.

As soon as Rand switched off the engine and lights he turned to Tara and drew her close again. He didn't want to give her time to erect barriers. He wanted her in bed, naked, as close as two people could get. He needed to feel her skin against his, her soft body against his hard one. He was one giant ache of throbbing need. Hunger raged within him that no amount of common sense could appease.

Tara tried to tell him they were making a mistake. She tried to halt the onslaught of passion, but his lips on hers and his tongue delving the depths of her mouth swiftly had her surrendering to the thrill of his seductive actions.

Rand wasn't in the mood to argue. He wanted Tara and she wanted him. It seemed like he'd wasted a lifetime waiting. He carried her into the house and straight to her bedroom. There he set her on her feet long enough to lock the door and strip off his own clothes. Next he pulled her onto the bed and began working on her clothing. His fingers trembled on buttons and hooks, but it wasn't long before she was gloriously naked.

Tara was having difficulty breathing. Her chest heaved from exertion and excitement. Rand's unrestrained desire inflamed her. His body was gorgeous; his shoulders smooth and hard, his chest broad and covered with golden hair. His eyes were dark with passion and wild with arousal. She felt shudders rip through him as he bared her body and drank in the sight of her.

When his hands began to caress her quivering flesh, she felt herself melting. He created liquid fire in her, and she wanted to do the same to him, but he protested.

“No.” Rand didn't want her hands on him. He didn't want to make a fool of himself or miss the opportunity to be inside her. He just wanted to feast after months of fasting. He started by suckling at her breasts until she grasped hands full of his hair and pulled his head up.

Their gazes locked and he slid his body over hers, easing between her legs as he grew increasingly impatient.

“Rand!” Tara's husky murmur aroused him more, but he felt her grow stiff and detected a note of panic.

His breathing was so labored that he couldn't utter a word, but his eyes searched hers, demanding an explanation for her sudden withdrawal.

Tara was finding it hard to breathe or even think. Rand was making her wild with desire, but he was moving too fast, expecting her to be ready to meet his passionate demands. It had been too long since they'd last made love. She wanted him desperately, she loved the feel of his body on hers, but she had to tell him that she wasn't sexually active, as she'd let him believe.

“Rand, there haven't been other lovers,” she told him softly, gruffly.

He went absolutely still and his eyes bored into hers. He wanted to call her a liar and accuse her of playing games, but the truth was evident in her eyes and the tension in her body.

He closed his eyes, feeling both incredible relief and unbearable strain. Another shudder ripped through him. It was torture to control the raging desire that throbbed in his groin.

When he finally reopened his eyes, they met Tara's with a spark of respect that she hadn't seen for a long time. She smiled and relaxed again.

“You aren't using any birth control?” he asked roughly.

Tara shook her head, unable to verbalize a response. She didn't think she could stand to have him change his mind at this point.

“How safe is it right now?"

Her eyes widened a bit. “Fairly safe,” she told him honestly.

His mouth curved into a gentle, sexy smile. Then he lowered his head and began to shower warm, wet kisses across her face, down her neck, and to diamond-hard nipples at each breast. He shifted his weight slightly so that one hand could weave its way down the length of her thighs to the exquisitely feminine flesh guarded by satin-soft curls.

Tara gasped as his tongue alternately bathed each of her nipples and his fingers rhythmically kneaded her most sensitive flesh. Violent tremors of need quaked over her body, making it impossible for her to lie still. She reached for his head and dragged it back toward hers, crushing her mouth on his as he eased his hard thigh over her undulating hips. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and slowly, intimately locked their bodies.

Swallowing Tara's small gasp at his possession, he went still for a few seconds, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him and giving himself time to muster more control. Then he began to move in her, with her, for her. It wasn't easy to go slowly, but it drove her wilder with each thrust and it heightened his pleasure immeasurably.

She felt so good, as tight and hot as she had their very first time. He knew she couldn't have had other lovers, and that knowledge drove him beyond control. He clutched her tightly as their passion soared and his satisfaction was all-consuming.

Seven

Tara wanted to talk. Lying within the circle of Rand's arms, exhausted but sated, she wanted to use the comfort of intimacy to try to communicate with him. She needed to explain her actions earlier in the evening and assure him that she was no threat to Mindi. There had to be away to convince him that she'd never deliberately hurt either of them.

The moonlight filtering through the window illuminated his strong features. She reached out a finger and gently traced the curve of his jaw. She wanted to know what he was thinking and how he was feeling. She was also curious about how he'd spent his evening. Was Stephanie Winston chasing him again? What did he feel for his old girlfriend?

“We need to talk,” she whispered softly, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

Rand didn't want to talk. He'd spent the past two years wondering what he'd done or hadn't done to keep Tara satisfied with their relationship. Tonight, all night, he intended to make love to her until she'd felt his possession over every inch of her body. He wanted to kiss, caress, and memorize her from head to toe. She'd changed and he wanted to familiarize himself with every new angle and delicate texture of her womanly form. He wanted to give her a night of passion that she'd never forget.

She turned more fully toward him and their gazes locked. Rand caught one of her fingers between his teeth and sucked it greedily. He lavished his attention on each finger while his hands sought and found the fullness of her breasts.

Tara gasped as his callused hands fondled her sensitive flesh. Then his mouth replaced his hands, wetly tugging at her nipples, while his fingers roamed over her rib cage, across her flat stomach to the cradle of her thighs. Her eyes widened in surprise as they met his darkly determined gaze. Her nails curled into the hard flesh on his shoulders while his fingers stroked her to a fever pitch of arousal unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

“Rand?” Her voice was a breathless whisper. What was he doing to her?

“Relax and let me love you."

Tara clung to him as her body began to undulate with the rhythm of his stroking caresses. She cried out his name over and over again as he brought her to peak after peak of exquisite pleasure. He allowed her only brief respites between spasms of delight while he continued to stimulate her to heights of sensitivity and satisfaction she hadn't known existed.

When he wasn't stroking her to a frenzy of excitement, he was wooing her with slow, drugging kisses that stole her breath. He gave her a marvelous massage that further heightened her sensitivity. His big hands caressed every inch of her while his hot, wet mouth explored just as thoroughly.

There was no time for talk, Rand was too intent on loving, and Tara was too enthralled to voice coherent thoughts. After more than an hour of his intense ministrations, she was thoroughly sated and ready for sleep.

Rand was fully aroused again and wasn't about to waste time sleeping. The more he touched her and watched her uninhibited responses, the more desperate his own need became. He wanted to bury himself in her and stay locked together for the rest of the night. He wanted to feel her soft, slick body bucking wildly against his, but he knew he would have to rejuvenate her first.

Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the bathroom and stood her in the shower. Then they spent a leisurely half hour playing in the water. He watched, fascinated, as the spray streamed down her bare shoulders and over the slopes of her breasts. He indulged himself by lapping it off her nipples and then from her navel. He didn't think he'd ever tire of hearing her soft, sexy moans of delight.

He knew she was exhausted, but he was thoroughly engrossed in loving her. His ego had taken a battering when she'd rejected him in favor of a career. Now he felt whole again and his self-esteem increased with each moan of pleasure.

Before long Tara was wide-eyed, revived, and ready to do some exploring of her own. She started with a very long very wet kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and demanding a response. She nibbled on the tendon in his neck and then licked the beading moisture from his flat nipples until they were tight and hard against her lips. Her hands slid to his hips and caressed his slippery flesh until she was sure his knees were growing weak.

“The water's getting cold,” she murmured, running her hands slowly up the front of his body and then locking them about his neck. “Maybe we'd better go back to bed."

Rand shut off the water and enveloped her in an embrace that locked them tightly against each other. A tremor coursed through him, but it had nothing to do with the cool water. He was on fire and the heat threatened to consume him. He fought for control as they haphazardly dried with thick, fluffy towels.

Then he carried her to bed. He fell on his back and pulled her full length over his naked body, grinding his hips against hers to ease the hot, pulsing heaviness in his loins.

Tara draped herself across his big body and snuggled closer, laying her cheek on his chest and pretending to rest. When she was still for too long. Rand's hands grasped her shapely bottom and clutched her tightly while arching against her in urgent demand. He wanted her to feel his thrusting hardness and the raw hunger she'd aroused in him. He desperately wanted her to appease that hunger.

Tara stirred, gently rocking her body against his hardness. She was rewarded by a ragged moan, so she began to press kisses over his neck and chest. When they'd lived together, she'd never known such unbridled passion. She'd been too reserved to enjoy the taste and feel of him, but tonight he'd destroyed her inhibitions. Tonight she wanted to drive him as crazy as he'd driven her.

Her mouth found his nipples again and her tongue flicked them to tautness. Rand's body bucked and his hands convulsively clutched her buttocks. She spent a considerable amount of time kissing, licking, and sucking his nipples. He moaned low and rough and she moved her searching mouth further down his stomach. His whole body tightened and grew harder. Tara continued to scatter kisses over his taut flesh until he grasped her shoulders and dragged her over his chest.

“Ride me,” he begged hoarsely, unable to withstand the torture of her soft, wet mouth. Then he was inside her and his groans grew more frantic as she moved with erotic energy. His hands clutched at her hips and thighs, guiding, crushing, coaxing her as a frenzy of excitement shuddered through his body. She was on fire and she was burning him alive. Soon they were both out of control.

When they were completely sated, Tara collapsed onto his chest. Their breathing was tortured and their sweat-slick bodies clung to each other. It was several minutes before she found the strength to shift her weight.

“No.” Rand didn't want her to move.

“I'm smashing you,” she argued huskily.

“No.” He could barely breathe, but he clung to her soft, slippery body. He was temporarily depleted, but he wasn't ready for the night to end. He wanted to learn more about the bold temptress he'd just discovered. He intended to continue his explorations as soon as they'd recovered their strength.

It was late the next morning when Tara woke. She knew instantly that Rand wasn't beside her. He was gone. She opened her eyes to search the room, then closed them again and heaved a sigh. His absence created a nagging ache of loneliness within her.

Rand, God how she loved him! Regardless of their disastrous past and poor prospects for the future, she still loved him; passionately, deathlessly, hopelessly.

He'd given her an unforgettable night of sensual madness and magic. She'd snatched sleep from time to time, but he'd kept waking her with his erotic caresses. They'd made love without reserve or inhibitions. His motivation might have been purely physical, but she'd returned his loving with reckless abandon and didn't regret one second of it.

Maybe he would never learn to trust her with his love or in his life, but she was willing to risk pain and rejection if there was even a fragile hope that she could teach him to love her. The only thing she didn't think she could bear was his regret for what they'd shared. If he was plagued by self-disgust at having spent the night with her, then she knew their relationship was doomed.

Crawling out of bed, she moaned softly. Every nerve and muscle in her body was ultra-sensitive this morning. Her flesh still tingled from Rand's touch and the aching was a wonderful, sensual reminder of his attentions.

After a quick shower, she dried her hair and searched her closet for something besides jeans. She didn't think she could stand the restriction of tight clothing this morning. A pair of soft, thigh-length stretch pants seemed perfect and she donned a baggy yellow camp shirt to cover the snug-fitting pants.

She headed for the office, but then heard laughter from the dining room. Realizing that it was already lunch time, she followed the sound of voices. She found Dot, Geraldine, and Mindi having their noon meal.

“Hi!” she greeted them, wishing she could contain the blush that crept over her face. She hoped no one suspected the reason she'd overslept.

Her greeting was returned threefold and Geraldine immediately rose from her seat. “I'll get you a plate."

“Sit still,” Tara insisted.

“Nonsense,” Geraldine argued. She did as she pleased and it pleased her to wait on her family.

“You missed breakfast,” Mindi scolded gently.

Tara dropped a kiss on her forehead and took a seat beside her. “I know I missed breakfast, and I'm starving."

“Did our great stwawberry ice cweam adventure wear you out?"

Tara laughed softly and thanked Geraldine as she handed her a plate of delicious-smelling quiche. “I guess I'm not used to such exhausting adventures,” she proclaimed, then scooped up a bite of quiche.

When she lifted her eyes, they collided with Rand's as he entered the room. She blushed scarlet at the thought of him hearing her comment about being exhausted. His eyes flared as they locked with hers, and she knew he'd read a double meaning in her words. It was an effort to swallow the food in her mouth.

Her heart threatened to suffocate her with its sudden acceleration. She actually felt Rand's presence with every nerve in her body. Some part of him, some aura of his existence, enveloped her and cocooned her in a sensual warmth that was so intense it was physically shocking.

“Did you tell Geraldine about our adventure?” she managed to ask Mindi, hoping to cover her violent reaction to Rand.

“Only a few hundred times, in great detail,” Geraldine grumbled good-naturedly. “She's told everybody who'd lend her an ear this morning."

“Geraldine will probably never be without strawberry ice cream in this house again,” Dot added, her eyes sparkling.

Tara grinned and winked at Mindi, but her gaze slid back to Rand as he moved into the room and offered a terse greeting to everyone. Mindi commanded the older women's attention with more chatter about her escapade, but Tara's attention was riveted on Rand as he came closer to the table.

She felt the crushing impact of his nearness. His handsome features didn't reveal a clue to his thoughts or feelings, but his body was sending sexual signals. His virile magnetism drew a savage response from her.

“I have to ride out and check on some stock in the north pasture. I came in to see if you wanted to ride with me."

Tara's eyes widened and searched his. She would love to spend time with him, but his dark, brooding expression made her hesitate. There was a chance he wanted to tell her he regretted their night together. He wanted to ride horseback and she wasn't sure she was up to it. She also knew that Dot depended on her help with Mindi in the afternoon.

Rand's expression went grim at her hesitation. “Forget it,” he clipped, turning sharply and heading for the door.

“Rand,” Tara had to stop him. “Do you still have Custard?” Custard was the horse he'd chosen for her when she first came to the ranch, before her pregnancy kept her from spending too much time in the saddle.

It was Rand's turn to hesitate. He sent her a hard, searching glance and nodded. “She's still here. Curt exercises her regularly."

“I can ride Custard,” Mindi injected, her gaze shifting from Tara to her dad and back to Tara. “I want to go riding."

“You can't go this afternoon,” Dorothy reminded. “We have to go shopping for some new summer clothes, remember?"

Mindi frowned. “I forgot. Gwan and me are going shopping today."

Without the responsibility of caring for Mindi, Tara had no reason to refuse Rand's invitation. “If you'll give me a few minutes to eat and change clothes, I'd like to go with you."

He seemed to come to a hard decision. “Ten minutes,” he allotted her, then strode through the door without another word.

Tara heaved a sigh of relief, then her eyes met Dot's. They told Rand's mother what a challenge her only son could be. Her gaze flew to Geraldine next. “May I please take my quiche to my room while I change clothes?” Geraldine laughed heartily and shooed her from the room.

Tara ate the remainder of her lunch while she changed into jeans and a pair of riding boots. She quickly brushed her hair and bound it with a ribbon at her nape, then grabbed a suitable hat. She deposited her plate in the kitchen sink on the way out of the house.

The sun was warm on her face, the breeze strong and fragrant. She laughed lightly as she crossed the expanse of lawn that angled toward the barns. Rand was holding the reins for both his stallion and Custard. She ran to his side, going just a bit shy as he turned his bright eyes on her.

He surveyed her from the toe of her boots to the enchanting beauty of the smile on her wind-kissed features. His heart stopped, then raced.

“Ready?"

“Ready,” Tara said, moving to Custard's side. Rand gave her a boost into the saddle, but as her thighs made sharp contact with the stiff leather, a soft hiss whooshed from her lungs.

She hadn't even straightened to an upright position before Rand was dragging her back off the horse. He trapped her between Custard's broad side and his hard body while his hands clutched her waist in a vise-like

“What's wrong?” she asked in amazement. His eyes were glinting with a strange intensity as they bored into hers.

“You're hurting, aren't you?” he demanded.

Tara's heart did a flip-flop and she knew her face was going crimson. “I'm just a little tender."

His eyes sent ripples of awareness over her. She didn't know if he was surprised, angry, or shocked, but there was no doubting the intensity of emotion behind his rigid features.

“Is that why you hesitated when I asked you to ride with me?"

Tara wasn't sure what he wanted to hear, but she gave him the truth. “I had decided to avoid jeans today,” she told him lightly. She felt like dropping her eyes, but the intensity of his gaze kept her mesmerized.

Rand relaxed a little, but still didn't give her any space. He held her captive between himself and the horse while his big hands kept her close to him.

“I jumped to the wrong conclusion,” he admitted roughly.

A slow grin spread over Tara's features and she relaxed against his taut body. She reached one hand up and stroked his chin, never losing eye contact. “You're an expert at jumping to the wrong conclusions where I'm concerned."

His brows rose arrogantly. “Am I?"

“Definitely,” Tara reiterated. “Last night you assumed I was sneaking Mindi off your property and I had absolutely no ulterior motives."

He stiffened at the mention of Mindi. He didn't intend to discuss her. He started to pull away, but Tara clung to the fabric of his shirt.

“I know you don't want to hear it, but it's the truth."

“It was a bad idea.” His tone didn't indicate belief or disbelief, just irritation.

“I realize that, and I'm sorry. When I promised her ice cream, I had no idea it would cause such an uproar, but I hated to break a promise without giving it my best effort."

Rand didn't respond, but stared at her in hard scrutiny.

“You don't believe me.” Tara said on a sigh. “You have absolutely no faith in me, do you?"

He didn't want to argue. He wanted to kiss her breathless. The proximity of her soft body was making him forget all else. He pulled her closer, with one hand at the base of her spine and the other moving to rest at her nape beneath her hair.

“You destroyed the faith,” he accused gruffly while brushing his hard mouth across her full lips.

Tara shook her head. “You can't destroy something that doesn't exit. There was never any faith or trust between us. We never took the time to know each other or develop a trusting relationship."

“Whose fault is that?"

“Mostly mine,” she conceded, “but it takes two to make a marriage and you never put forth much effort, either."

Rand knew she was right. He hadn't been much of a husband, friend, or lover. He'd never known it was possible to be as free and uninhibited with a woman as he'd been with her last night. He'd never known there could be such absolute sharing. His body grew tight thinking about it and he shifted closer.

Tara's hands splayed across his chest, and she felt the increased thudding of his heartbeat. She also felt the burgeoning hardness of his groin pressing into her stomach.

“Rand?” she breathed huskily, becoming excited by the rigid evidence of his arousal. She'd feared he might not want her after sating himself last night.

He rocked his hips against her. “Sorry,” he ground out roughly. “I think my body is trying to make up for all those months of celibacy in less than twenty-four hours."

“Celibacy? For the whole time?” she gasped, genuinely shocked. Her eyes widened as she considered the extraordinary possibility of him leading a celibate life.

“Your reaction isn't very flattering,” he derided.

Tara dropped her gaze from the intensity of his. He sounded dead serious, but she had a hard time believing him.

“I do have some morals,” he growled, annoyed by her attitude. “I'm a married man. You haven't done any bed-hopping this past year, so why are you convinced that I would?"

“I wasn't doubting your morals,” Tara replied, searching for the right words. She didn't want her reaction to be misinterpreted. “It's just that you're so ... so..."

“So what?” Rand demanded, fascinated by the myriad of emotions flitting across her features.

Tara lifted her hands to cup his face. She loved the texture of him. Their chests pressed together. His hands tightened their hold on her, and she gazed at him with eyes gone dark with emotion.

“You're just so incredibly attractive,” she murmured gruffly. “So gorgeous, so sexy, and so very desirable,” she managed to whisper before Rand smothered the sound with a hard, hungry kiss that left them both breathless.

Within seconds they were tightly entwined in each other's arms and straining for closer contact. The horse shifted restlessly, but neither of them was aware of anything but the hunger that fed their desire.

Rand wanted to absorb her into his body. He wanted to be absorbed by her softness and feminine strength. It was the most frightening, overpowering, irresistible feeling he'd ever known. They'd been married and lived together for nearly two years, but he realized now that they'd never been true lovers. Now he knew the real meaning of the term.

Sex was only a part of it. Sensuality, sensation, and satisfaction were a big share of it, but the driving need was raw and primitive and relentless. One of his hands slid to her hips and he spread his legs to coax her closer. They both groaned at the exquisite contact. Tara's arms tightened about him. Rand's mouth plundered the depths of hers, his tongue thrusting with an urgency that expressed a greater need. They clung to each other with tenacious strength and fed their desire with hot, raging passion.

Horses whinnied impatiently and Custard began to shift with more restlessness. Rand forced himself to remember where they were and tried to summon more control. His breathing was labored when he finally dragged his mouth from her.

“You're sore,” he reminded gruffly, nibbling on her lips. “We'd better bank the fires."

“It's a good ache,” she argued in a sexy invitation.

Rand groaned. Tara's teasing inflamed him. He hugged her tightly, his lips peppering her face with hard, urgent kisses.

She felt the heat of the sun and the greater heat of Rand's desire. She returned his kisses with passionate fervor, molding herself against his hard contours and welcoming the thrust of his thighs against her pliant body,

Once again their breathing became so labored that he was forced to drag in air. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled the clean, sweet scent of her hair. The horses shifted again, giving him a glimpse of Curt moving in their direction. He had enough time to ease his death grip on Tara, but there was no disguising the rampant desire.

Curt hesitated when he realized what was causing the delay. His features hardened and then went deliberately blank. He would have turned away if Rand and Tara's mounts weren't so agitated.

“Unsaddle the horses and turn them out to pasture,” Rand managed, simultaneously sheltering her from curious eyes. “I'll take the Jeep."

Curt nodded and grasped the reins of both horses. He did as he was told without sparing them another glance. Rand and Tara reluctantly released each other.

“I have an incredible urge to see you lying in a bed of clover with the sun sparkling on your naked body,” he told her hoarsely. “Will you come with me?"

Tara didn't know if the heat that suffused her was caused by modesty or desire, but she didn't hesitate to nod in agreement. Within minutes he had helped her into the passenger side of his Jeep and they were headed to a secluded pasture on the north side of the ranch.

Eight

Tara recognized the field of clover the instant she sighted their destination. The McCain family reserved a secluded spot of the ranch for family outings, and neither cowhands nor cattle were allowed to trespass. A gurgling stream cut through the field and there was a cluster of shade trees that made a natural barrier from curious eyes. There was also a broad expanse of thick, sweet-smelling clover that rippled in the wind.

Rand stopped the Jeep, but left the radio playing. A haunting love song filled the air as he clasped Tara's hand and tugged her from the vehicle toward the center of the field. In the most secluded section of the pasture, he let go of her and lowered himself to the ground, stretching his lean body in a deceptively relaxed position. His brilliant, beguiling eyes never left her.

Tara knew he wanted her to strip for him, and she wasn't sure she could do it even though he'd already seen and touched every inch of her body. Baring herself to him took more than boldness, it implied complete trust. She loved him and had no problem with baring her body, but baring her heart and soul was infinitely more risky. She wondered if he would guess how much she was willing to risk for his love.

Kicking off her boots was easy enough, and she stepped out of her jeans without hesitation. Then, despite her resolve to please him, her legs trembled. She wasn't sure she could continue. Her expression was pleading as their gazes locked.

“Don't be shy,” he coaxed quietly.

She'd lost her ribbon and her hair tumbled to her shoulders, the dark curls dancing in the wind. Her shirt was long enough to cover her underwear, but bared an enticing expanse of shapely legs. He found himself trembling like a schoolboy and wanting her so badly that it scared him. He wanted to see her naked, but he was almost afraid to touch her.

“Please,” his plea floated between them, the gruff tone of his voice supplying the courage Tara needed.

Her fingers weren't too steady, but she managed to unfasten all the buttons of her shirt and toss it to the ground. Unclipping her bra was tricky, yet that soon joined her growing pile of discarded clothing. Then taking a deep breath, her gaze still tangled with Rand's, she stepped out of her panties.

The feeling of raw exposure lasted only a brief instant. The heat of his gaze sent fire licking along her veins. The combination of sun and wind on her naked flesh made her feel gloriously, sensuously alive. The tension in her features evaporated and the smile she offered him was enticingly lovely.

Blood drummed through his body, hot and heavy, nearly suffocating him. Tara's smile was exquisitely sensual. When he finally dragged his gaze over the rest of her body he found it beautifully shaped and ultra-feminine. The sun made her skin glisten, and she looked like a goddess. It made him ache with a wanting that transcended the physical.

Her nipples tightened into hard buds of sensitivity. The wind tickled them and caressed every inch of her flesh. When his roaming gaze eventually found her breasts, Tara's smile became tremulous.

“God, you're beautiful,” he rasped, holding out a hand to invite her closer.

“I'm glad you think so,” she replied huskily, her voice almost breaking as she grasped his hand and felt the tremor that transmitted his desire to her.

Rand came to his knees before her and slid his hands about her waist while planting a kiss on her navel. Then he tilted his head up, watching her for an instant before his hot mouth sought her breasts, first licking the budding nipples, then fondling both mounds with rough but tender palms.

Tara cried out from sheer pleasure. She withstood only a few minutes of the sweet torture before her knees buckled and she slipped to the ground beside him. Rand's mouth adored her with kisses, his tongue teased, his teeth nipped, and then his gentle suckling drove her out of her mind. She began tugging at his clothes and helped him strip. Wrapped in each other's arms, they tumbled to the clover and succumbed to the ecstasy of making slow, passionate love in the sunshine.

It wasn't surprising that they both fell into a deep sleep. They slept for more than an hour and then took a quick bath in the chilly water of the stream. Rand laughed with Tara and wrestled playfully as they got dressed, but he still refused to discuss anything of any importance.

She made several attempts to bring Mindi into the conversation, yet he persistently changed the subject. They eventually rode back to the ranch and returned to their own work.

Shortly after Tara started to work at the computer, she was interrupted by a knock at the office door. She answered the summons and smiled a greeting to Donnie Pruitt as he slowly came through the door.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked, then moved closer, clutching his hat in front of him with both hands.

“Not at all.” She'd told him he was welcome to work with her, but this was the first time he'd come to the house. “I'm trying to decipher the last code Liza scrambled, so I can use a little help."

He smiled and relaxed a little. “I think you've done a great job all by yourself,” he complimented. “You've almost found all those records. Mr. McCain should be thrilled."

Tara's smile widened. Rand had been pleased, but he hadn't been gushing with praise. The fact that he hadn't ordered her to leave his home was the best evidence of his satisfaction.

“I think everyone around here is relieved to have someone else dealing with the business end of the ranch."

“Do you have time to explain the procedures you've used?” Donnie asked, his eyes studying her with unusual boldness.

“Sure, come have a seat and we'll use the same methods on the last mystery code."

He pulled a chair close to Tara's and she began to review the work she'd been doing. He quickly grasped her methods and raved about her ingenuity until she became a little uncomfortable with his praise.

Several times during the next hour Tara noticed that he was scrutinizing her with startling intensity, but she assumed it was because of his fascination with her work.

It wasn't until he said he had to leave for his shift at the guard house that Tara remembered his involvement in last night's fiasco. He been a witness to her fight with Rand and probably harbored some misconceptions.

“I want to thank you for your suggestion last night,” she told him as he rose to leave, thinking it best not to mention the episode with Rand. “Mindi and I made strawberry milk shakes."

Donnie gave her a strange smile and nodded his head. “She told me and about everybody else around here."

Tara laughed. “I'm glad she has plenty of friends to share her adventures with."

“She's a good kid,” Donnie said, then seemed to bolster his courage. “She looks just like you.” Tara was shocked to hear the words aloud. Nearly everyone on the ranch knew she was Mindi's mother, but no one discussed the fact. Since Donnie was a newer employee, he must think the whole situation bizarre. She didn't know what to say without relating details that weren't any of his business.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” she told him lightly. “Mindi is my daughter, but I've been away for a long time. She hasn't been told the whole truth, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't discuss it with anyone."

“No, ma'am, I won't say a word. I know you have to handle little ones with special care. I really like kids, and I wouldn't do anything to upset her."

“Thanks, Donnie.” Tara hoped her dismissive tone would hurry his departure, but he seemed to have more on his mind.

“I ... uh ... I brought your Porsche back to the house last night. I was real careful. It sure is a swell car."

Tara was momentarily nonplused by his mention of the incident. She knew he'd witnessed her fit of temper and the heated argument with Rand. There was no way of guessing how he'd interpreted the explosion of passion between them.

“Thank you again,” she managed. “I was in a temper and shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel in the first place. I would hate to wreck my car."

“I don't blame you,” he agreed. Then he gave her one more searching glance and turned to leave the room just as Rand was entering. The two nodded a brief greeting and Donnie left.

Rand's gaze shot to Tara's, an arrogant brow arched in query.

She shrugged her shoulders. She didn't know why Donnie was acting so strange, but she had a feeling he thought Rand had somehow abused her last night. She wondered what he would think of that.

“Donnie was helping me with the last of the files."

“Has he been helping you a lot?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized they were prompted by jealousy and it irritated him.

“I told him he was welcome to work with me, but this is the first time he's actually been here."

“What prompted his visit?."

“I'm not sure, although he did mention that he'd brought my car back safely last night. Maybe he wanted to make sure you hadn't strangled me to death and buried me in the basement."

Rand scowled. He didn't like her comment even if it was lightly teasing, and he didn't like her spending time with adoring males. Neither did he want a hired hand who stuck his nose in private matters. He would have a talk with Pruitt.

“Did you need something?” she asked when he continued to scowl.

“I have an appointment with Sam Carleton. He should be here soon, and I'll need the tax files.” Sam was the McCains’ accountant and had been deliriously happy when they'd retrieved the files.

He sat down behind his desk and Tara brought him the papers he needed. She brushed close to him, but forced herself to behave like a professional even though she really wanted to sit on his lap and shower him with kisses.

“Would you like me to get lost while you and Sam work?"

Rand was sure she smelled like clover. Just the scent of her was a distraction. The mental image of her gloriously naked body sent a shudder over him. He had to get his mind off his hormones or he would drive himself crazy.

“Sam's going to stay for dinner, and I think Mike invited himself. Geraldine was grumbling about needing two extra hands."

It was the first time Rand had ever suggested she help anywhere but the office or with Mindi. Tara jumped at the chance to make herself useful. “I'll go offer my hands to Geraldine then."

The phone rang before she had moved, and she picked up the receiver out of habit. “McCain residence."

“This is Stephanie Winston. I've been trying to reach Rand all day,” complained their caller, her voice forceful enough to be heard by both of them.

Tara glanced at Rand and he reached for the receiver. She handed it to him, but wasn't in a hurry to leave. She never had gotten any information out of him, and she wanted to know what Stephanie had to say. Eavesdropping was easy since the other woman's voice carried so well.

“Hello, Steph,” Rand said, he gaze locking with Tara's as she deliberately listened to his conversation. “Thank you for dinner last night. Mom and I really enjoyed it."

“I'm glad,” said Stephanie. “You don't go out nearly enough. If you're not careful, you'll be an old man before you realize you've devoted your whole life to that ranch of yours."

He'd heard the lecture before. Stephanie refused to consider the fact that he was not only a rancher, but a father who tried to spend some time with his child.

“I don't think I'm ready for the nursing home just yet."

His words conjured images of his physical stamina and Tara blushed. She decided she'd better leave the room. She turned to go, but Stephanie's next words halted her.

“I know you're a prime specimen of manhood,” she cooed. “But you need to be careful or you'll find yourself trapped by the first woman willing to cater to your needs. Spending so much time at home with your ex-wife is asking for trouble. I can't believe you're allowing that woman to live under your roof. What will people think? You know how people love to gossip."

Tara saw red. She'd heard the phrase before, but never actually experienced the feeling until this minute. Her temper soared to a blinding level in a blink of an eye. Had Rand not been physically stronger than her, she would have yanked the receiver from his hand and told his obnoxious, interfering neighbor just what she thought of her.

“Tara isn't my ex-wife, Steph,” Rand reminded, wrestling with one woman while trying to converse with the other.

“Surely that's just a formality?” Stephanie insisted, sounding very much like a woman in hot pursuit of a new husband.

“Listen, Steph, I appreciate your concern, but I really have to go. Sam is here to do my taxes. I'll talk to you later."

He had the phone hung up before Tara could get in one word, but not for want of trying. In the process, she'd managed to entangle herself in her husband's arms.

“She is a royal bitch,” Tara hissed. “She's issuing advice when she's gone through more men than the Gabor sisters? Who the hell does she think she is? The next Mrs. Randall McCain?"

Rand had forgotten what a spitfire Tara could be. Most of the time she'd spent at the ranch, she'd been annoyingly cool and professional. Last night she'd really lost her temper and today she was furious again.

He didn't know why her loss of control pleased him so much, but he smiled devilishly.

His smile irritated her more. She wanted to smack him, but she suddenly realized that he had plenty of reason to be smug. She had launched an attack that landed her in the circle of his arms, and she was acting like a shrew.

To make matters worse, Sam chose that moment to enter the office. His eyes widened in surprise. “Pardon me,” he drawled, “I guess my timing is bad."

Tara withdrew from Rand's embrace with as much dignity as she could muster, but her eyes were still ablaze with fury.

“Don't mind me,” she managed to articulate. “I'm leaving."

“Hey, don't leave on my account,” Sam declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He wisely stepped aside when she neared the door.

Tara didn't respond, but left the room with the sound of masculine laughter trailing her. She took her wounded dignity to the kitchen and helped Geraldine.

“Have those men been teasing you, honey?” the housekeeper asked.

“How can you tell?"

“Your face is flushed and your eyes are gleamin’ with the light of battle."

Tara laughed and relaxed a little, hugging Geraldine's ample waist. “The men were only partly responsible. Rand had a phone call from Ms. Winston that sparked my temper just a bit."

“Just a bit?"

Tara laughed again. “What can I do to help? Rand said you're feeding a bunch of big hungry males tonight. How many mouths do we have to feed?"

“Rand, Sam, Mike, Dot, Mindi, you, and me,” Geraldine counted. “The men are the worst."

“How about Curt? Doesn't he eat with the family sometimes. I know he used to."

“He hasn't for a while."

“Since I came back?"

“Curt doesn't care much for women,” Geraldine tried to sugar-coat the response. “He don't mind us old ones or the little one, but women his own age scare the hell out of him."

Her swearing brought a chuckle from Tara, but she was still concerned about Curt. “What did I do to that man to make him dislike me so much? I can't remember ever saying more than a dozen words to him."

Geraldine wrapped an apron about her waist. “You don't have to do anything to a man who mistrusts women. You just have to be one. If you're a beautiful woman you're more of a threat."

“To him?"

“You know all of Rand's men are fiercely loyal. Curt's probably afraid you're going to cause a lot of grief."

Geraldine's tone made it clear that a lot of people shared the same fear. Tara couldn't blame them. They had no way of knowing the whole truth, and she didn't dare tell it. Only time could prove her devotion to her husband and daughter.

She started peeling potatoes. “I don't want to leave, not ever, but that doesn't mean Rand will let me stay. This time I have no say in determining the future."

“You really want to stay? Forever?” Geraldine sounded a bit skeptical. “What about your career? Weren't you a hotshot executive or something?"

Tara shuddered at the memory. Any reminder of the disastrous end to her executive career made her skin crawl. “I love my work with computers, but I don't have to travel if I don't want to. I can write magazine articles and do a certain amount of trouble-shooting from any location."

“Have you told Rand you want to stay permanently?"

“Not hardly,” Tara countered. “Do you want him to have a stroke?"

Geraldine muttered something to herself. “How do you expect the man to know what you want if you don't tell him? Don't you know how dense they can be?"

“If he ever asks, I promise I'll tell him."

“But he's not likely to ask, is he?” Geraldine argued. “He asked once, and you left. He won't be so quick to ask again."

Tara's sigh was heavy. “I know.” She couldn't deny the truth or change the past. She could only hope for the future. “He doesn't have to ask me to stay. I'm just hoping he won't tell me to leave."

Geraldine considered that as they continued to work in harmony. The kitchen was filling with a mixture of appetizing aromas. “How's your work with the ranch files coming along?"

“I'm almost done with the retrieval. I've figured out the method for the last code, now I just have to finish unscrambling the words and print up the records."

“And after the files are all retrieved?"

She was asking a question Tara didn't have an answer for. “I'm setting up the filing system so that anyone will be able to find what they need at anytime. I've made back-up copies of everything. Now I'm doing basic secretarial work.” She didn't have to add that the need for her expertise had diminished. She didn't even like to think about it.

Geraldine didn't comment, but handed her a bowl of fresh strawberries. “Mike went to town for these this morning. After Mindi's mournful tale about her adventure, I thought I'd better feed her some strawberries before she leaves."

“Leaves?” What did she mean? Where would Mindi be going? The thought of being parted from her made Tara panicky.

Geraldine's eyes widened, then she shifted her gaze. “I thought you knew she was going away for a little while. She told you she was going shopping."

“For summer clothes,” Tara retorted. “Nobody mentioned a trip anywhere."

“You know Dorothy has a friend who lives in Texas. Naomi Baxter has a passel of grandchildren and Mindi just thinks it's the cat's meow to go there for a visit."

Tara was stunned. Rand was sending Mindi away. The implications of his action were frightening and wounding. Why?

Did he fear that Mindi was becoming too attached to her? Did he really think she might try and kidnap an innocent child? Her work with his files was nearly complete. Did he want the two of them separated for a while before he threw her off the ranch? What had she done to deserve this?

“Has this vacation been planned for a while or was it a sudden decision?” Tara had grown pale. She hated the pity she noted in Geraldine's eyes, but she had to know the truth.

“Rand made the decision this morning. The arrangements were easy. Naomi offers Dot and Mindi an open invitation. All they needed were a few new clothes for Mindi."

“When are they leaving?” Tara noticed that her hands were trembling and she carefully laid down the paring knife.

Pity changed to concern. Geraldine didn't like the way the news was affecting her. She'd thought that Rand and Tara were working out their problems, and she'd assumed Tara already knew about his plans.

“Mike is driving Dot, Mindi, and me to Oklahoma City tomorrow. They're catching a plane to Texas, and I'm spending a couple of weeks with my sister."

“You're leaving, too?” Tara felt shell-shocked. Rand was sending away anyone who might be considered an ally.

“You don't have to worry about the house. I've trained Beth Murray to do the cooking and housekeeping. I'm not quite as spry as I used to be,” she tried to tease. “Beth has a husband, so she doesn't live here, but she's real dependable."

“I'm sure she is,” Tara commented, but she had little else to say. The kitchen grew quiet except for the sound of meal preparation and an occasional instruction from Geraldine. The two of them prepared and then served dinner with a minimum of fuss or conversation.

Tara remained quiet most the evening. She laughed and applauded Mindi as she modeled her new clothes for everyone. She even managed to fake some enthusiasm when Mindi told her about their visit to Texas, but her heart ached.

She didn't realize that Rand's gaze followed her every move. Her laughter fooled Mindi, but it sounded forced and rang hollow to him. Her eyes were dulled by sadness and she refused to look directly at him all night. He knew she was upset, he just didn't know why.

Couldn't she bear to be alone with him? Was Mindi the only reason she'd stayed so long? Once Mindi was gone, would she leave, too? Had his physical demands on her been too much? Did she feel as though he was pressuring her?

When it came time to put Mindi to bed, Rand lifted her onto his shoulders and carried her to her room. Tara waited until he was out of earshot and excused herself for the night. Pleading a headache that was very real, she went to her room.

She didn't turn on the light, but wandered aimlessly around the room, thinking about how beautiful Rand and Mindi were together. Rand was so big and strong, so totally masculine, but when he held his baby girl in his arms he was so tender and loving. Her heart ached to share their special love, to be a part of the family again. She just didn't know how to do it.

A knock at the door startled her. She wasn't sure how long she'd been in her room, but it couldn't have been more than half an hour. She wondered who wanted to see her. Switching on a light, she blinked at the brightness and opened the door.

It was a shock to see Rand standing there, his eyes narrowing as they fastened on her. At first she thought he'd come to spend the night with her and she stiffened in resentment.

“Mindi would like you to read a story to her. She says you're a great storyteller, and she can't go to sleep without hearing one of your stories and giving you a kiss."

Tara's heart seemed to get lodged somewhere in her throat. Rand didn't give her a clue to what he thought of their daughter's demands. The fact that he'd come after her was enough food for thought.

“Do you mind?” she had to ask.

His expression didn't change. “If I minded, I wouldn't be here."

Tara supposed it was the truth. He could afford to be generous now that he intended to sever her relationship with Mindi. Whatever his reasons, she wasn't about to ignore the plea for attention.

Rand explained that he had work to do. He headed toward his office and she went to Mindi's room. It was the last they saw of each other that night.

Nine

The next night Tara went to bed early. The house had been unbearably quiet since Mindi's departure before noon. Rand stayed outside most of the day, taking his meals with the ranch staff, and Beth Murray hadn't needed any help with the house. Once Tara had finished in the office, there was nothing to do.

It didn't take long for her to shower and slip into a nightgown. Propped in bed, she tried to read, but nothing held her attention. Finally, she reached for the phone and called her mother, hoping her distress wouldn't transmit itself over the telephone. She'd already called twice this week, but her mother wouldn't think that was unusual.

Luckily, Doris was so full of news that she didn't spend time analyzing her daughter's mood.

“You wouldn't believe how well your father's doing!” she exclaimed. Her enthusiasm brought a genuine smile to Tara. “He had a check-up today, and he's surpassed all the doctors’ expectations for recovery! They still insist that he use caution and common sense, but he's getting stronger every day."

“He's wise enough not to tell me he wants control of the company, but he's starting to question more of my decisions and demand that we discuss every issue. I pretend to resent his interference, but I'm really so delighted! I may be an excellent executive, but I'm thoroughly fed up with corporate life. I intend to let your father regain control, and then I'm going to convince him to retire.

“Now that his health is improving, he can honor all those promises he made for world travel. I've been secretly collecting brochures. How would you like to take a cruise with us?"

Tara laughed, her spirits lifted and heart warmed by her mother's optimistic attitude. “I don't want to go on a cruise, thank you, but I think it's a great idea. I hope Daddy keeps his promises, because you're going to need heavy-duty help convincing him to leave Georgia."

“Pooh!” her mother responded. “I have that man right where I want him. He thinks I'm an angel of mercy, a dynamite executive, and an irresistible siren. What other enticement could I possibly need?"

Tara laughed so hard that she didn't hear the knock at her door. When it swung open and Rand entered the room, her eyes widened in surprise. The laughter slowly faded.

He looked impossibly gorgeous. He'd just come from the shower. His hair was damp and slightly curly. He'd pulled on a pair of jeans, but his feet were bare and his cotton shirt half buttoned. The golden hair on his chest glistened. Tara had to drag her eyes from his sexy body.

“You'll have to keep me informed on your strategy and let me know where you're going to cruise,” she said into the phone. “Meantime, give Daddy my love and maybe a kiss or two for me."

“That will please him immensely. We both love you. Call again soon and give Mindi a kiss for us, okay?"

“I will. I love you both, too. ‘Bye for now."

The click of the receiver sounded loud in the ensuing silence. Tara managed to bring her gaze back to Rand, but she couldn't think of a thing to say.

“Your mother?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“Yes.” Tara jumped at a neutral subject. “Daddy's recuperating beyond expectations, and she's determined to hold him to promises of retirement and world travel."

Rand's lips curved into a smile. Tara's dad was as attached to Georgia as he was to Oklahoma. Getting him to leave for an extended period would be quite an undertaking.

“You really enjoy talking to your mother, don't you? I don't remember the two of you being so close."

He was treading on dangerous ground. Tara tried to answer him honestly without divulging too many details. “I don't think I ever really appreciated my mother,” she confessed. “On the surface she's an advertisement for southern gentility, but I've learned she possesses an indomitable spirit, and she's capable of doing anything she puts her mind to. She continually amazes me and never fails to cheer me up."

Too late, Tara realized she'd confessed to being low in spirits. Rand's gaze tangled with hers, and he moved to the edge of the bed. Her fingers nervously clutched the sheet across her lap. Her breathing became agitated and her breasts noticeably heaved beneath the silk of her gown.

“Talk to me, Tara,” he coaxed. “Don't shut me out like you did last night. Tell me what's wrong."

Her eyes widened in confusion. His voice was so sexy and inviting, his eyes mesmerizing. She felt the pull of attraction, but fought it.

“You sent Dot, Geraldine, and Mindi away,” she charged hoarsely.

“And you don't want to be alone with me?” he asked. He brought one knee down beside her and planted a hand on either side of her body, effectively barring her escape. “Are you afraid I'll make a nuisance of myself? That I might demand more of your time than you're willing to give? Are you sorry we're lovers?"

Tara couldn't hide her amazement. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened at his misconceptions. “I am not sorry we made love. I do want to spend time with you. You're the one who avoided me. You worked all night last night."

“You expected me to come to you last night?"

Tara blushed and lowered her eyes to the curly hair on his chest. “I expected some indication that you weren't bored with me. Not sex, but some clue to what you were thinking."

Rand's brows knotted, and his gazes held hers with unflinching intensity. She'd imagined he might be bored? “I was thinking you needed time."

“Time for what?” Her voice was suddenly breathless. He was too close. Heat and the scent of familiar after-shave radiated from his body, engulfing her, seducing her.

“Time to decide whether or not it's a mistake for us to be lovers.” His voice was gruff. The satin of Tara's bare skin distracted him. On the soft curve of her breast was a dark imprint where his mouth had sucked greedily.

“Is that why you sent Mindi away? Did you intend to send me away if I didn't want to be your lover? Or did you just want her gone so that she wouldn't fret when I leave?"

Rand's attention snapped back to her tight features and his jaw clenched convulsively. “You're leaving?” he practically snarled at her. In the blink of an eye he seemed to turn to stone.

Tara grasped his head tightly between her hands before he could shift out of reach. If she didn't make herself perfectly clear, he'd leave in a temper and never forgive her.

“Dammit, Rand! You're jumping to conclusions again! I don't want to leave!” she declared clearly and concisely. “I want to stay here, and I want to be your lover.” She needed a whole lot more, but didn't have the nerve to voice those needs.

Some of the tension drained from him. When he finally reacted, he did so by easing his weight slowly over hers, pressing her head deeply into her pillow. He tried to capture her mouth, but she used all her strength to hold his head still.

“Do you want me to leave now that your problem with the computer is solved?"

Rand's eyes were so close that she could see the depth of emotion her words evoked. “No” was all he said. She had to believe he meant it, for whatever reasons.

It was Tara's turn to relax. Her grip on his face changed to gentle stroking. Her eyes grew turbulent in reaction to the fire in his gaze.

/ love you. The words echoed around and around in her head, but remained unspoken. She knew he didn't want a proclamation of love, but she couldn't help dwelling on it when he was so close to her.

Rand saw the emotion in her eyes and glimpsed the vulnerability. He decided to be especially gentle tonight. No more bruising marks on her tender flesh. No rough, impatient demands for gratification. No ego boosting. He just wanted to kiss her, hold her, love her.

“I missed you today,” he confessed, surprising himself with such a revealing admission.

Tara closed her eyes and sought his mouth with hers, drawing sustenance from the taste of him. With a few simple words he could reduce her to a quivering mass of need.

He shifted onto his side so that he could pull the sheet away from her. Then he slowly ran a caressing hand up the length of her thigh and rib cage. With his mouth he gently tugged the thin straps of her gown off her shoulders, leaving the silk supported by the thrusting fullness of her breasts.

First he placed a gentle kiss on the passion mark his mouth had made. Next his fingers brushed the bruise with soothing tenderness. Then his hand tugged the fabric from her breasts. He pulled her close to his chest and moaned when their naked skin touched. Silken fire. Finally, his arms enveloped her so that he could rub taut nipples against taut nipples.

“Oh, Rand!” she moaned huskily, clutching his shoulders with both hands. Her hips began to shift restlessly beneath his weight.

His gaze held her captive. They were dark and clouded with desire. “All I have to do is touch you and I'm on fire,” he rasped. “You make me weak."

Tara shook her head vigorously, then carried her argument close to his lips. “No, never weak. We make each other strong."

Her mouth locked with his, her tongue darting boldly between his lips and challenging his to a duel.

It was Rand's turn to groan. His hold on her tightened and he rolled onto his back, pulling her across his chest while tugging her nightgown over her hips and tossing it aside.

“I forgot to ask if I could spend the night,” he murmured while wetly outlining her lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Anytime,” she swore.

For the next few nights he took her up on the offer. He came to bed late and left early, but he never failed to pull her into his arms and make love to her at the end of the day.

Late in the week, on their fourth night together, Tara had a nightmare. It was a frightening, recurring dream that always left her badly shaken. She was trapped inside her own body, completely paralyzed and helpless. She couldn't move despite her frantic efforts. She couldn't scream for help; she could only whimper pathetically.

It was just a dream. She knew she had to wake up and escape the agony of frustration, but it seemed an eternity before her subconscious released her from the mental anguish.

Normally, when she woke from the nightmare, she would get out of bed, get dressed, turn on every light around her, and take some comfort from the voices on radio or television. She always needed light, noise, activity.

Tonight, when she dragged herself to consciousness, she felt Rand nearby. Turning toward his big, solid body, she shifted as close as possible and threw an arm and a leg across his chest and hips.

Rand thought she was trying to wake him. He turned more fully toward her and pulled her into his arms. She was hot and sweaty and trembling.

“You sick?” he asked sleepily.

“Bad dream,” Tara whispered, and felt his arms tighten protectively. She rubbed her face against his chest and found comfort in the steady thud of his heartbeat. Then she drifted back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he would keep the nightmares at bay.

She awakened the next morning to find him climbing out of bed. It was still dark.

“Rand?"

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Go back to sleep. It's not even dawn yet."

“Then why do you have to get up?” she asked groggily.

“I have a ranch to run."

“Why do you have to run it so early?” she mumbled, missing him already.

He chuckled. “It's springtime. Ranches need eighteen hours of running this time of year."

“My alarm's set for eight."

“Beth will be here to fix breakfast. Sleep as long as you like. I'll see you later."

“Can't I help outside?” Tara asked, managing to pry her eyelids open a crack and look at him through the slits.

Rand looked at her long and hard. She was beautifully tousled, flushed from sleep and incredibly desirable. She'd never offered to help with ranch work before, and although he could really use the help, he didn't think she was serious about learning the ropes.

“You're not a cowpoke."

“I can learn to poke cows,” she argued, her eyes fully open now, her gaze steady and sincere.

He smiled at her. Maybe he would take her up on her offer and teach her some of the fundamentals of ranching. It was one way to see if she could ever be content to live with him and work by his side.

“We'll talk about it later.” Just one last kiss, he thought, leaning over to press his lips on the velvet softness of her cheek.

Tara's arms slipped around his shoulders and she clung to him, squeezing tightly in a gesture of pure affection. “See you later, then,” she murmured, closing her eyes again.

“Later,” he agreed gruffly, stunned by how deeply the affectionate hug affected him. Stunned and disturbed.

It was late afternoon before he had a chance to return to the house. He found Tara in the office looking fresh and lovely in pink slacks and a white blouse with puffy little sleeves and pink buttons. He remembered the outfit. He even remembered the thrill of unfastening each pearly button on the blouse and discovering the treasure hidden beneath the pristine fabric.

Her neatness and femininity made him feel big and grubby. He'd been fighting the dust and wind all day. He'd brushed the worst off before entering the house, but he was still filthy.

“Hi,” Tara greeted, moving toward him until he held out a hand to halt her.

“Don't come too close. You'll get dirty."

She smiled a siren's smile and slowly moved toe-to-toe close without actually touching any part of their bodies except their mouths. She used her lips to tell him how much she'd missed him and how happy she was to see him. Rand was very cooperative. His tongue delved into her mouth and returned her greeting provocatively.

When they finally drew apart, she placed her hands flat on his chest, loving the feel of him. “Been poking cows?"

He laughed and stole one more kiss. “They've been pokin’ me. I was going to see if you could come out and help, but you look like a fashion plate."

“I can change,” she retorted with a smile. “I can get just as ugly as any other cowhand if I try."

His laughter was deep and husky. He pulled her into his arms, despite his grime, and held her close. “If you're serious about helping, I could use an extra pair of hands.

“Mike split the crew and sent them to outlying pastures to herd cattle toward canyons or natural shelters. There are line shacks, so he and the men will stay put until the storm passes."

“The weather forecasts are predicting heavy rain and some funnel clouds have been spotted,” Tara told him worriedly.

“Tornadoes aren't unheard of this time of year and the wind is already fierce. I expect it to start raining anytime. I sent Beth home. Curt is here, but I could use more help."

“Beth made a pot of chili,” Tara told him. She gave him a swift, hard kiss and withdrew from his arms. “You skipped lunch, so please eat something and make sure Curt eats, too. I'll change into jeans and meet you in the kitchen."

“Yes, ma'am,” he returned with a humble nod of his head, making her laugh as she went to her room.

Curt was in the kitchen when Rand walked to the back of the house. He was already warming the pot of chili. “Is everything all right here in the house?"

“I've done all that I can,” he told him. “This house has weathered a lot of storms. Let's hope it weathers this one, too."

“Beth went home?"

“She called and said everything was okay at her house."

“What about Tara?"

“She's changing clothes so she can help us."

Curt frowned. “Is that a good idea?"

Rand didn't mince words. “I don't know, but we'll find out."

“She could get hurt. She doesn't have any experience with this weather, and she's not very big. It'll get dangerous out there soon."

“She's strong and healthy. I'm not going to ask her to do anything she can't handle. I can send her into the house if it gets really bad."

Curt's skepticism was evident, but he didn't waste time arguing. He and Rand ate hungrily and then dumped their dirty dishes in the sink. Tara had joined them by the time they were ready to go back out.

“Are you sure you have on enough clothes?” Rand asked, knowing she'd need extra protection.

“A shirt, sweatshirt, long-johns, jeans, two pairs of socks, and my boots,” she told him. “At the moment I feel like a stuffed pigeon."

He rewarded her lighthearted teasing with a broad grin. “You might be hot now, but the temperature has dropped forty degrees since morning. I think Mom has a pair of coveralls and a wind-breaker on the porch that you can use."

“Okay.” Tara didn't argue. She'd spent enough time in Oklahoma to know that weather alerts weren't to be taken lightly. Tornadoes could be deadly.

“What needs to be done?"

Rand explained as they moved to the porch and donned heavy outerwear. “We locked up the horses and boarded up most of the buildings. We tightened down or put away anything the wind could toss. Curt and I are going to bring the cows with calves into the corral, if they stay in the pasture they might get struck by lightning or panic and trample the young ones."

“How can I help?"

“Jerry's supposed to feed the livestock, but if you can do the feeding, he can help us."

“Jerry's the only other help you have?” Tara asked, remembering the aging, arthritic cowhand who refused to retire.

“Right."

“Did he get something to eat?"

The men exchanged amused glances. She glared at them.

“You can't work on an empty stomach. If everyone else is gone, he might not have taken time to eat. Do you want your only other help weak with hunger?"

“No, ma'am,” Rand said. “Beth made sure Jerry had something to eat."

“That's all I wanted to know,” she retorted indignantly.

Tara ignored their efforts to suppress laughter. She was impatient to get outdoors. The layers of clothing weighed a ton and she was roasting.

Curt went out first, then Tara, with Rand following after he'd secured the back door. They hadn't walked ten feet from the shelter of the house before the wind caught them full force.

Tara didn't even have time to brace herself. She was knocked flat on the ground as though she weighed nothing. The men picked her up and literally dragged her to the barn.

“Whew!” she exclaimed when they were in the relative quiet of the building.

“Are you hurt?” Rand wanted to know.

“No, I'm well padded. The strength of the wind just caught me by surprise."

“The storm's closer than we thought,” he told her. “Maybe we'd better take you back to the house."

“Rand! You don't have time to waste. I'll be fine. Just tell me what you want me to do."

“Are you sure?"

She propped her hands on her hips, annoyed. “I'm sure that you're wasting time."

“Okay, okay,” he snapped. “The only problem is that you have to feed in both barns. It won't be easy to get back and forth if the wind knocks you off your feet."

“I'll crawl if I have to."

Rand frowned, but Curt came up with a solution. “I'll run a rope from one barn door to the other while you're showing Tara how to feed. She can hang on to the rope when she's ready to go over there."

“Good.” Rand was succinct. “When you're done in here, go to the other barn. We'll bring the herd to that corral, so stay there until we can walk you back to the house."

“How are you going to get the herd to the corral?"

“We had planned to lure them with grain, but it might not work if they're spooked. We'll do what we can."

“How many are there?"

“A couple dozen cows with calves.” He answered her questions while showing her the grain bins and telling her what mixture of feed to give the horses. Then Curt returned with Jerry and the three men went after the cattle.

Tara fed each horse and made sure they had fresh water. She talked to them soothingly as rain started to pelt the roof and the wind began to howl. The horses sensed the violence of the storm and restlessly thrashed around in their stalls, but she rubbed their noses and tried to calm them as much as possible.

When she'd finished feeding, she made sure every stall was latched tightly and then headed for the door at the far end of the barn. As promised, a rope was stretched tautly from one building to the other. She grasped it firmly, not wanting to be caught off guard again.

The sky was ominously dark, thunder rumbled, and jagged lightning sizzled in the night. The rain had evolved into a downpour. By the time she'd plowed her way across the fifty feet between barns, her coveralls were soaked and she was gasping for breath. She mentally thanked Curt for the rope. She'd been joking when she'd said she'd crawl, but she was thankful she hadn't had to. She wasn't weak by any standards, but she was no match for fifty to sixty-mile-an-hour winds.

The second barn was pitch dark. Tara couldn't see two inches in front of her face. She made sure the door was latched tightly behind her and then carefully felt around for a light switch, praying that the electricity was still functioning.

Luck was with her. She found a switch and sighed with relief when lights flickered on throughout the long building. They were dim and she knew she'd probably lose the electricity soon, so she worked as fast as possible.

Once all the horses were fed and watered, she found the tack room and grabbed some blankets. The men would be wet and cold, but she didn't know if they would all make it back to the house. She carried the blankets to the door nearest the corral and then made another trip to the tack room for two large flashlights. Next, she decided to brave the storm long enough to see if they were coming.

The sliding door at this end of the barn was harder to handle. It took all of her strength to open up a crack wide enough to slip her body through. She'd just accomplished that feat when the lights flickered one last time and died.

She knew they wouldn't be coming back on for a while, and she didn't know if Rand could steer the cattle to the barn without the benefit of lighting. Even someone who knew the lay of the land could easily get confused in a raging storm. They needed light to guide them, and Tara had flashlights. She didn't know if they were bright enough to help, but she had to try something.

Grabbing a light in each hand, she edged her way out the door and kept her body flat against the barn for protection. She moved to where the rungs of the corral started and then clung to the fence. It was difficult to climb and hold the lights, but she managed to do it slowly. With her back braced against the barn and her legs locked around the top rung of the fence, she swung the arc of the lights around the perimeter of the corral. She didn't know what direction Rand was coming from, so she had to keep the lights moving.

The rain lashed her viciously and layers of clothing were swiftly soaked. The wind blew the hood off her head and her unprotected skin grew numb with cold, but she continued her vigil with the lights. The next time the sky was split by lightning she was rewarded with the sight of cows moving her way. She quickly shifted both lights toward the gate and offered another prayer of thanksgiving when the cattle came rumbling into the pen.

The gate closed behind the herd and she could see two men moving toward her, but she wasn't sure which two until lightning lit the sky again. They were yelling something at her, but the raging storm drowned out their words.

In the next instant, Rand was on the fence beside her, shouting in her ear. “Get down!"

Tara was numb and her body was stiff and unresponsive. “I don't think I can!” she shouted back.

He grabbed her shoulders and then wrapped his arms around her while Curt pried her legs from the fence.

Together the men fought the ferocious wind, pounding rain, and her unresponsive body until she was safely inside the barn. Curt pulled the door shut. Rand grabbed a blanket to wrap around Tara. They didn't waste time with words. Curt snatched the flashlights and Rand swept Tara into his arms. They headed for the center of the barn.

“Where's Jerry?” She managed to ask through chattering teeth.

“We sent him to the bunk house."

She barely heard his response. The roar of the wind was deafening now. It was as dark as Hades and she felt herself being hurled into a pile of hay. Rand draped his body over her, and she knew Curt's body was sheltering her as well. Belatedly, she realized they were protecting her from greater danger.

Ten

Tara realized the barn was being battered by a whirling vortex of wind. She prayed it wouldn't touch down close enough to become a full-fledged tornado, destroying everything in its path.

When the loudest roaring came, she shivered violently. Rand's arms tightened, his mouth searching for her ear and offering gruff words of comfort. She wasn't sure what he said, but the sound of his voice soothed her.

It seemed an interminably long time before the worst of the storm passed. Curt sat up first. He lit flashlights and illuminated the area around them. Then both men focused their attention on her.

She was a mess. Her face was burned and her hair had been tangled by wind and rain. The string of her hood was knotted so tightly that she could barely breathe. She tried to untie it, but her fingers wouldn't work. She wanted to sit up, but her legs were stiff and cramping.

“I've got pins in my legs,” she tried to make a joke, but the rasping sound of her voice lacked humor.

Rand pulled off his gloves and loosened the knot that was choking her. His eyes flared angrily when he saw the welt left by the taut string.

Curt snatched the gloves off her hands and started rubbing them briskly between his own while Rand roughly massaged first one of her legs and then the other. Tara felt like laughing at their bizarre ministrations until her circulation painfully throbbed to life.

“Damn!” she screeched, shoving them both away and dragging herself into a sitting position. “I don't know if I want you guys helping me or not. You play too rough!"

Her throat was raw and her voice husky, but her indignation brought a smile to their faces. Rand reached for her boots, tugged them off, and rubbed her feet.

“Why didn't you stay in the barn like I told you?"

“The lights went out,” she replied. She was clenching and unclenching her fingers to warm them and improve the circulation.

“Since when are you afraid of the dark?” His tone was nearly a growl. When he thought of what might have happened to her, fear clutched at his guts.

“I'm not afraid of the dark, but I wasn't sure you could find the barn in the storm.” Now that her fingers were moving, she gently rubbed the welt on her neck.

“I built this barn. I could find it blindfolded."

“I'm sure you could,” she retorted flippantly, irritated by his ungrateful attitude. “But I wasn't so sure of the cows."

Curt ducked his head to hide a wide grin. Rand tried to keep a straight face, but failed.

“You were right to worry about them,” he told her. “The stupid beasts were headed toward the barn until the lights went out, then they started to panic. Your flashlight beams lured them right to the corral."

“Honestly?” Tara asked, eyes wide and surprised.

“Honest."

“Curt?” She turned to the other man. “Is he making fun of me?"

For the first time since meeting Curt, Tara heard him laugh out loud. He threw back his head and roared with laughter, bringing a smile to her frozen features. Even if Rand was poking fun at her, she thought, she'd managed to destroy some of Curt's animosity.

“Rand's right about the stupid cows,” he finally told her. “They made a beeline for the lights. If you hadn't helped, we wouldn't have had a chance of corralling them."

Tara pulled her feet from Rand's grasp and glared at him. “Then why are you yelling at me?"

Rand ignored Curt's presence and pulled her into his arms. “Because you scared the hell out of me!” he confessed before bringing his mouth down and giving her a long, hard kiss.

“Oh!” she muttered huskily when his mouth left hers.

“Yeah, oh!” he replied, stealing another kiss. Then he eased away from her and began pushing her boots back on her feet.

“We need to brave the weather long enough to get to the house. If another twister happens through here tonight, I'd rather be in a sturdier structure."

Tara groaned at the thought of going back out in the freezing rain, but she obediently followed his instructions. He bundled her in blankets, and she was again supported by both men on the way to the house. The wind wasn't nearly as fierce and the rain had diminished considerably.

“I'll take care of the generator and check for any serious damage,” Curt told Rand when they reached the back porch. “Then I'm heading to the bunkhouse to keep Jerry company."

Rand frowned. “We can check for damage in the morning. You need to get dry."

“And you need something hot to drink,” Tara insisted.

“I'll get both as soon as I get that back-up generator running,” Curt insisted, walking out the door to prevent further arguments.

“Hardheaded, isn't he?” Tara suggested as she shrugged out of blankets, a wind-breaker, and sopping coveralls.

Rand found a lantern and lit it. By the time they had both stripped to their underwear, the generator was cranking power into the electrical system. Lights began to blink and appliances hummed as power was restored.

“How long can we use the back-up generator?” she asked, her throat feeling raw and scratchy.

“A few days, if necessary,” he told her, moving toward the half-bath at the end of the porch. He used this shower if he was too filthy to track through the house or if he was wet and wanted to shed his clothes in the adjoining laundry room.

“Come here, Tara.” he called, and adjusted the spray to a lukewarm temperature.

She was shivering violently, but she was reluctant to strip off her underwear and get in the shower.

“Just get in with your clothes,” he suggested. “You can peal off the underwear when you're warm."

That sounded reasonable to her. She stepped into the shower and gasped. The water stung her flesh. Cold chills swept over her body. Then, slowly, the warmth began to penetrate and she sighed. For the next few minutes she just enjoyed.

Her hair needed to be shampooed and her body soaped, but she couldn't seem to find the energy to move. She also knew she should conserve the hot water and that Rand needed a shower, too, but still she couldn't move a muscle.

He finally climbed in with her. Tara opened her eyes lazily and shifted to give him more room. Then she smiled when she felt him removing her bra. She obligingly stepped out of her panties when he stripped them off her hips. The feel of his hands in her hair and on her body was delightful as he did her shampooing and bathing.

She groaned a complaint when he shut off the water, but he brought a smile back to her face when he dried her with a big, warm towel. He had terry robes for both of them. As soon as she was wrapped in the soft cotton, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the master bedroom.

She wiggled her bare toes in the plush carpeting when he set her on her feet. In an instant he had the covers thrown back and had put her to bed. Then he tucked her in like a child and kissed her on the cheek. She wanted to argue, but she was suddenly too sleepy to keep her eyes open.

Rand stood by the bed and watched her for a long time. He wanted to hold her in his arms, but he had work to do and she was exhausted. He promised himself the luxury of touching her later.

The house had grown chilly, so he started a fire in the fireplace. He didn't want to use the furnace any more than necessary, but he didn't want Tara to get more chilled. The big, open grate in the bedroom was perfect, supplying both heat and light.

The intercom button on his telephone flashed, and he answered it immediately, speaking quietly so he wouldn't disturb her.

“What's the damage?"

“We must have had lady luck with us this evening,” said Curt. “The only thing I found was the weather vane off the front barn, some broken tree limbs, and a lot of loose shingles. It looks like the funnel passed right over our rooftops."

“Close enough,” Rand growled.

“Damn right. Hope I never get any closer."

“Jerry okay?"

“Snoring like a pig. How's Tara?"

“Sound asleep."

Curt was quiet a minute, and Rand knew he was searching for words. For some reason, he didn't want to hear the other man's praise of Tara. She'd been smart and gutsy this evening. She'd come through like a trooper and she'd saved their hides as well as valuable livestock. Maybe he'd been wrong about her ability to adjust to ranch life. Maybe he didn't really know her at all. Maybe he'd never really given her a chance or maybe they'd both changed. He didn't want to analyze it all tonight.

“Did you check on the horses?” he asked, deliberately cutting off any comments.

Curt hesitated, then changed subjects. “The horses are okay, so are the cows and calves."

“Good. Have you heard from Mike?"

“He radioed from the line shack. It was a bad transmission, but he said everything's all right."

“Then let's call it a night. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."

“You don't have to twist my arm,” said Curt, ‘"night."

“Good night.” He replaced the phone and looked at Tara again.

His stomach was growling. He knew he should eat something, but the hunger for her was more insistent. The shocking thing about this hunger was that it was for a unique form of physical gratification. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel her against him. He needed to touch her.

Tossing off his robe, he climbed into bed, gently easing his big body beside her. Tara stirred, opening her eyes just a fraction. “Rand?"

“It's just me,” he whispered gruffly.

Her smile was sleepy, her expression innocent and unguarded. Snuggling closer, she murmured, “I love you,” then fell back to sleep.

He felt the blood rush to his head while his heart kicked into high gear. Three words spoken in a haze of sleep, sounding so soft and sweet and sincere. If he had heard them in the heat of passion, he'd have dismissed them immediately, but it wasn't so easy to do at this moment.

What had he done to deserve her love? Did he even want it? Did he dare believe that her love could be true? Was he a complete fool to want anything from her?

Rand didn't have any answers. He only had an undeniable need to keep her close to him, to feel her warmth and softness. He'd been scared out of his mind tonight when he'd seen that funnel cloud and feared they couldn't get her to safety in time. He never wanted to experience that kind of gripping fear again. Love had a way of making a man weak and fearful. He wasn't sure he had the courage to accept that kind of love in his life.

The telephone woke them both several hours later. Rand blindly reached for the receiver.

“McCain."

“Rand?” It was Dot, and her voice sounded strained.

He sat up in bed. “What's wrong?” he asked, alarming Tara. She sat up, too.

“Nothing is wrong with me, I've just been frantic to get in touch with you. I've been calling you for hours. The phones must have been out. We heard that a tornado passed through our area, and we haven't been able to get any news from anyone."

“Everything's fine here,” he assured her in a soothing tone. “The funnel did come over us, but it didn't touch down."

“Thank God!” Dorothy exclaimed wholeheartedly. “We've been so worried."

“Mindi didn't hear about the twister, did she?"

“Unfortunately, yes. It took me hours to get her to settle down and then she cried herself to sleep. I promised her that I would wake her as soon as I got through to you. Hold on while I go get her."

Naomi took the phone and talked to Rand briefly, getting a few more details about the storm. Then Mindi's sleepy voice came across the wires.

“Daddy?” She sounded so small and sleepy and scared.

His heart constricted. He couldn't bear to have her frightened about anything. “Hello, Sweetheart,” he said, turning the receiver so that Tara could hear, too.

“Daddy, I was afwaid!” Mindi cried. “I was afwaid you and Tara got hurt."

“We're both just fine,” he told her. “That twister went right over the roof. It didn't even touch us."

“It didn't hurt my kitties, did it?"

“Curt said all the animals are fine, too."

“I want to come home,” Mindi pleaded, half sobbing.

Tara stiffened. She missed Mindi terribly, and it broke her heart to have her baby girl so far away and so upset.

Rand knew that Mindi was tired and fretful. After a good night's sleep she might change her mind about leaving her playmates and coming home.

“Why don't you let me talk to Gran. If you be a good girl and go back to sleep, you might come home real soon."

“Okay, Daddy, Elizabeth Ann is still sleepy, too."

“I'll bet she is,” he agreed. “Give her a kiss for me and remember that I love you."

“I love you, too, and I love Tara. I been missin’ you both so bad."

Dot came back on the line, and Tara slid down in bed. She didn't want Rand to see the tears. She had no right to tell him what to do with Mindi, but she wanted her home.

“If she doesn't change her mind in the morning,” she heard him tell his mother, “why don't you come home. I know you haven't had much of a visit, but I'd feel better if you were here."

Tara could hear the relief in Dorothy's voice. “I'm glad you suggested that. I've been so worried I was tempted to charter my own plane. Mindi and I have been ready to come home ever since we got here."

Rand chuckled. “A couple of homebodies?"

“You bet we are."

“I'll see you soon, then. Let us know what time your plane will be landing."

“I'll do that. I'm sure you've had a hectic day, so I'll let you go. Good-bye for now."

“'Bye.” He replaced the receiver on the phone.

The fire had died to a rosy glow that cast shadows over the room. Rand slid under the covers and reached for Tara. She came readily into his arms, and a wealth of emotion washed over him. He hugged her tightly, then ran his fingers through her hair, tugging gently so he could look into her eyes.

The moisture from her recent tears made her eyes glisten. He knew she'd been just as distressed as Mindi, and he found himself wanting to comfort her.

“She'll be all right as long as she has Mom with her. She might miss us, but that's only natural."

She didn't trust her voice, but she nodded her head.

“Are you furious with me for asking them to go in the first place?"

She nodded again, this time negatively.

“I would have liked a little more time alone with you."

“We haven't been alone, and you've spent every minute of every day working outdoors,” she reminded, her voice hoarse.

He frowned. “Is your throat sore?"

“Just a little scratchy."

“Life on the ranch is harsh most of the time."

Tara didn't know how he expected her to respond. She knew ranch life wasn't all good, but it wasn't all bad, either.

“You seem to thrive on this life. You're strong and healthy."

“And you're delicate and feminine,” he countered.

“Do you think so?” She knew how wrong he was, but telling him would do no good. “I was strong enough to climb a fence in a raging storm and hold on to flashlights while a funnel cloud approached. Is that weak?"

“No,” he snarled, “that's stupid, but pretty damned strong. I just hope you're not going to make a habit out of it. I don't think my heart could stand it."

“How does my strength affect your heart?” Tara asked, her eyes searching his intently. She wasn't sure if he was really angry with her or proud of what she'd done.

Rand was realizing that everything about her affected his heart, but he wasn't ready to accept the fact. He dodged her question by asking one of his own.

“How do I affect your heart?” He watched her intently. “When I put you to bed earlier, you told me you loved me."

“Did I?” She forgot how to breathe, going very still and watchful. Her gaze locked with his, but his expression was carefully controlled.

“Did you mean it?"

“Does it really matter?” she countered softly.

The question caught him off guard. He didn't know how to answer because he wasn't sure of his own feelings.

“I guess it doesn't,” Tara decided when he didn't respond. She started to slide out of his arms, but they tightened.

“You're jumping to conclusions,” he accused.

He was right, but that didn't make her feel any better. “I'm really too tired for guessing games tonight,” she told him, untangling herself from his arms and sliding to the edge of the bed. She tightened the belt on her robe and rose to her feet.

The room swayed for an instant, but then she was fine. “I'm going back to my room. I don't think I want to spend the night in here."

The words hurt and the pain angered Rand. It was the master bedroom, his bedroom, the room they'd shared as husband and wife. She couldn't pick a better way to dismiss their marriage than to declare her distaste for sharing this room.

“Your room is cold and your bed is empty,” he told her arrogantly.

“Maybe,” Tara conceded, “but I never did belong in this one, did I?"

The door closed softly behind her, and Rand swore savagely. If she'd never belonged in his bed, then it was because she'd never really wanted to belong. She'd never loved him or wanted to be his wife.

He missed her the instant she was gone. She was tying him in knots, and he hated it. He no longer knew what he wanted, and he hadn't a clue to what she wanted. They'd all be better off if she went back to Oklahoma City or Georgia or anywhere.

Liar! a little voice shouted in his head. Liar. You don't want her to leave. You can't bear the thought that she might want to leave. And you know that nobody else wants her to leave.

She made the family whole again, but at what price? How long did they have before she grew tired of being a wife and mother? How could they possibly survive losing her a second time? He didn't know the answers, and he was afraid to ask her.

Until he could understand what had motivated her to desert them the first time, he couldn't risk giving her a second chance. When he'd brought Mindi back to Oklahoma a year ago, he'd been certain Tara would follow. He hadn't had much faith in their marriage, but he'd been sure that she adored Mindi. It had nearly destroyed him when she didn't come. They hadn't even been able to reach her those times when Mindi begged for her mommy.

How could he risk it again? How could he knowingly invite more heartbreak and humiliation?

Tara's room was cold and her bed empty. She shivered as she climbed between the sheets. Maybe she was a fool to walk away from Rand. She should have been ecstatic that he'd taken her to the master bedroom. She would have been ecstatic if she'd felt like a real wife, but she'd never felt like a wife to Rand, even though she'd carried his child. There had always been something missing between them and it was still missing. He just didn't love her.

Despite several hours of sleep a short time ago, it didn't take long for her to drift off to sleep again. There were no nightmares, and the next time she opened her eyes, the sun was pouring through her window. A glance at the clock told her that she almost slept through another morning. It was already past ten o'clock.

The robe she'd slept in was tangled and exposing a considerable amount of flesh. She'd just straightened it when she heard a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in,” she called, her voice still a bit hoarse.

The door opened slowly and eyes like her own peeked in.

“Mindi!” She tossed aside the bedclothes and opened her arms. In another instant her daughter had hurled herself into them and was hugging her fiercely.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Tara asked her. “I didn't sleep for two days, did I?"

Mindi giggled and turned to her grandmother standing in the doorway. “Gwan and I couldn't sleep last night. We twied and twied, but we were worried about you."

“So we called the airport and caught a flight home,” Dorothy finished for her. “We slept on the plane and arrived in Oklahoma City a couple of hours ago."

“How did you get here?"

“Daddy came to get us."

Tara felt guilty. Rand had so much work to do, and she could have gone to the airport. She hadn't even heard a phone ring and he obviously hadn't wanted to ask for her help.

“Well, I'm glad you're home, I missed you,” she declared, squeezing Mindi tightly.

“Me and Elizabeth Ann missed you, too,” Mindi proclaimed, returning her hug. “We're never going to leave you again."

Unexpected tears filled Tara's eyes and threatened to spill. She swiped at her face with the sleeve of her robe, but Dorothy kept Mindi from noticing anything amiss.

“I think we'd better leave Tara alone and give her a chance to get dressed. She's probably getting hungry and we're the cooks today."

Mindi hopped off her mother's lap and headed toward the door. Then she turned serious eyes on Tara. “Did you have another adventure last night?"

Tara grinned. “I certainly did, but it wasn't a very fun adventure without you."

Mindi's eyes lit. “Sometimes daddies don't have fun adventures,” she explained solemnly. “You'd better only have adventures with me."

“I'll remember that,” she promised, grinning.

“Rand said you skipped dinner last night, so come to the kitchen when you're ready. We're doing brunch."

“Thanks, I'll just be a few minutes."

Mindi threw her a kiss, and a smile stayed on Tara's face as she dressed, used the curling iron to restore some order to her hair, and applied a little makeup. She was still smiling when she entered the kitchen.

Rand, Curt, and Jerry were having coffee. They all greeted Tara, and she found herself blushing for no apparent reason. She refused to look directly at Rand. Dot was cooking at the stove, so she moved to her side.

“Can I help with something?"

“No, sit down. The men have already eaten, and I'm just fixing you and me an omelet."

“Why don'tyou sit down,” Tara argued. “I slept around the clock last night and you haven't had any rest at all. You must be exhausted."

“I'm on my second wind right now,” Dot explained. “I'll probably sleep around the clock when I finally hit the bed."

“Which is going to be as soon as you've eaten,” Tara commanded gently. “I can take care of everything for a while."

Dot protested. “I just can't let you. There's a ton of muddy laundry, and Beth can't come. Mindi is so wound up she'll be hopping all day. We'll need to do some baking and fix a big dinner tonight, too. The men will be starved."

“I'll take care of it, I promise,” Tara told her, carrying their eggs to the table.

Dorothy sat down beside her, and the argument was put on hold while they ate. The men discussed damages on the property and rehashed what needed to be done. Mindi had finished eating, but was avidly listening to the details about the storm.

By the time Tara and Dot reached the coffee stage, the men were ready to head back outdoors. Curt surprised them all by turning a smile on Tara.

“Are we losing our newest ranch hand already?” he teased.

Tara's gaze flew to Rand's. She'd already promised Dot to help in the house. She hadn't considered the fact that he might need help, too.

Something inside Rand melted as he watched the emotions flickering across Tara's lovely features. Her expression was totally open and devoid of the cool control. She cared—about his needs and the needs of his family. The caring concern was evident in everything she did. Why was he afraid to accept the obvious?

“Mike and the rest of the crew will be back soon. I think the new cowpoke deserves a break today."

The smile he gave her brought a rush of pleasure. Tara knew he wouldn't smile like that if he was angry with her. There was a wealth of relief in the smile she gave back to him.

“Just for that,” she teased lightly, “I'm going to cook a prime rib roast for dinner tonight. I might even bake one of my southern pecan pies."

“Better bake a couple,” Dot decided when the men chorused their enthusiasm.

Tara grinned and glanced at Mindi. Her eyes grew tender. “Rand,” she whispered, redirecting his attention.

Their daughter was falling asleep in her chair. She was sitting up, but her eyes kept blinking and her head bobbing.

His smile was gentle, too. He moved around the table and lifted Mindi in his arms.

“I'm not sleepy,” she insisted.

“I know you're not,” he said, “but Elizabeth Ann is all tuckered out. I think she could go to sleep if you just rest your eyes with her a little while."

“Okay,” said Mindi.

He carried her to her room and Dot excused herself.

“I was okay until I sat down for a few minutes,” she explained. “I hate to leave you with so much work, but I'm all tuckered out myself. I don't think you'll have to worry about Mindi for a few hours."

“Don't you worry about anything,” Tara insisted. “Just get some rest. I'll be fine."

“Well, don't hesitate to call me if you need me."

Tara agreed and then shooed her from the room. Next she turned on Curt and Jerry. “Anyone who isn't out of this kitchen in the next five minutes gets to help with dishes."

They grabbed their hats, politely excused themselves, and headed for the door.

“Pretty effective tactic,” Rand commented as he reentered the kitchen. He strode across the room, swiftly shortening the distance between them.

Tara's heart skipped a beat as he came close. “I borrowed it from my mother. It always worked when she wanted Daddy out of her way."

His eyes were intense as he stepped closer, and Tara stepped back until she encountered the edge of the sink. She wasn't sure what to expect from him this morning, so she didn't make any other attempt at conversation.

“Thank you for your help last night,” he said while cupping her face in one big hand. “And thanks for offering to take care of things today."

The jewel-bright intensity of his eyes made her catch her breath, and his touch was always her undoing, especially when it was so tender.

“You're welcome,” was all she could manage.

Her tone was so husky that Rand's eyes dropped to her neck where he could still see the faint burn she'd suffered during the storm. He couldn't find the words to tell her how sorry he was she'd been hurt, so he leaned down and placed a string of gentle kisses on her throat.

His method was more than adequate. The feel of his lips against her sensitive skin thrilled Tara beyond imagination.

“Call me if you need anything,” he instructed, his own voice a little gruff.

He left the kitchen and then the house. She stood in the same spot for a long time, wondering at the wild thrill she experienced from such a small gesture of tenderness.

Eleven

Dinner that evening was a huge success. Dorothy and Mindi were rested and in good spirits. Rand and Mike were ravenous. Jerry ate with the ranch staff, but Curt pleased them all by joining the family.

Everyone ate heartily and raved about her pecan pie. Mindi decided she might like it almost as much as strawberry shortcake. Tara was delighted with their praise. Her eyes sparkled happily, and her face stayed flushed with pleasure.

The men pitched in and helped clear the table while Dot and Tara rinsed dishes and loaded the dishwasher. When the kitchen was clean, everyone drifted into the family room where Mindi was watching television. She swiftly lost interest in the program when she acquired the attention of all her adoring males.

Mike played horsy and galloped around the room with Mindi on his back. Tara laughed until tears ran down her face. Then Mindi decided to play charades. She did all the charades while everyone else made wild guesses at her game.

Next, she challenged Rand to a wrestling match. They rolled around the floor and wrestled until Mindi was giggling so hard she couldn't catch her breath.

Tara couldn't remember when she'd enjoyed herself so much. Being a part of this family gave her a deep sense of security and satisfaction. She knew she might be enjoying herself on borrowed time, but she suppressed any depressing thoughts and allowed her heart to swell with contentment.

Mike, who was emcee for the wrestling match, finally declared Mindi the winner. Rand roared in protest, and she squealed with delight, wriggling out of his arms and running to her mother for protection. Tara wrapped her arms around her and held on tight. Then the two of them grinned impishly at Rand.

“I'm the champion! I'm the champion!” Mindi chanted.

“She's the champion! She's the champion!” Tara teased, rocking her back and forth in her arms.

Rand's chest constricted. Seeing them so close made his blood pump painfully through his body. They were the women of his life. They made him whole. They filled him with awe and made him feel vitally alive. They also had the power to break his heart. He knew he couldn't survive the loss of either one of them. He had to find a way to keep his family together.

Tara watched as his handsome features took on an intense, brooding look. She wondered what he was thinking. She was afraid he feared or resented the trust Mindi gave to her. Did he still believe she would betray that trust?

Everyone else in the room was taken aback at the sight of mother and daughter. Mindi was an exact miniature of Tara. Their ebony curls were soft and shining, their skin glowed with health, and their eyes shone with happiness. They were breathtakingly lovely.

“Rematch!” Mindi exclaimed after she'd rested briefly. She slid off Tara's lap and made a running dive for Rand's chest. His mock growl didn't deter her in the least, but when he tickled her unmercifully, she cried “uncle!” and then lectured him on the fundamental rules of wrestling.

Tara's smile was bittersweet as she watched. She would love to lie on the floor with them and feel free to play. She wanted to join the game, but was afraid Rand might resent the intrusion.

Mindi romped a while longer and then Rand just held her in his arms while they watched an hour of family sitcoms on television. By ten o'clock Mindi was showing signs of growing tired, and Dot volunteered to give her a bath.

“I'm just wondering if there's any of that southern pecan pie left,” Mike declared as he stood up and stretched, looking like a lazy grizzly bear.

“I took Dot's advice and made two,” Tara told him.

“Oh, I was hopin’ you'd say that,” he replied. “What do you say, Curt? Want to raid the kitchen?"

Curt unfolded his lean body from the easy chair. He flashed Tara a grin. “Sounds like a good idea to me."

“Rand, we won't bother to save you any pie, because we're sure you're watching your weight,” Mike declared on his way out of the room. “Would you like anything, Tara?"

“No thanks,” she answered. It had been a long day and she was tired.

“We'll turn out lights and lock the back of the house when we leave,” Mike told them.

“Thanks for dinner,” Curt added as he left with Mike.

“You're welcome."

Tara's gaze sought Rand's as soon as they were alone. She couldn't read anything from his expression, and there was no time for conversation. Mindi came bounding back into the room, dressed in baby-doll pajamas and smelling fresh and clean from her bath.

“Do I have to go to bed?” she asked. “I took a long, long nap."

“You also had a long day,” Rand reminded.

“I took a long nap, and I'm ready for bed again,” Dot said as she followed her grandchild into the room.

“I'll read you a couple of stories,” Rand told her as he lifted her onto his shoulders and gave her a piggyback ride. “Say good night."

“Good night Gwan and Tara.” She threw kisses and then squealed as Rand ducked to keep from banging her head on the door-frame.

Dorothy turned a smile on Tara. “How about you? Are you going to stay up for a while?"

Tara rose from the easy chair and stretched. She wanted to be with Rand and Mindi, but she didn't say that. “I think I'll take a shower and go to bed. It's been a busy day."

“I know, and you got stuck with all the work, but Beth will be here tomorrow and you don't need to do anything."

Tara's smile was forced as they said good night and headed to opposite sides of the house. She was afraid she wouldn't be needed much longer. She was afraid she was becoming a threat to Rand's peace of mind, and there was no way of knowing how he'd react to that threat.

After showering, Tara slipped into a sky-blue satin nightgown and absently brushed her hair. She knew Rand wouldn't come to her room tonight. She'd walked out on him last night, so it was up to her to make the first move. She wanted to go to him. This past week of sharing his bed had spoiled her, yet she feared their time together might be coming to an end. What was she going to do if he ordered her out of his life?

Rand was sitting in bed when she knocked softly on his door. He knew instinctively it was Tara. His body started to harden in anticipation. He was becoming a slave to the desire, and he'd been afraid she wouldn't want him tonight.

“Come in,” he told her, his eyes going dark when he saw her in the clinging satin. The bodice of her gown cupped her breasts and clung to her narrow waist, enhancing her shapely figure.

Tara closed the door and leaned against it for a minute. Rand had showered, but hadn't dressed. His lean, muscled body was gloriously naked and fully exposed. He didn't try to hide the effect her appearance had on him, and her nipples tightened at the sight of his arousal.

He watched her body react to his and a tremor shot through him. He wanted to suck those responsive nipples until she moaned and begged, but he was determined to control the primitive passion until some things were settled between them.

“I think it's time for that talk,” he told her gruffly.

She didn't want to talk. She wanted physical proof that he hadn't grown tired of her. The thought that he might be ready to send her away gave her the courage to be bold.

“Talk,” he reiterated when she ignored the suggestion and climbed onto the bed. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was bent on seduction.

Tara crawled on top of him, shoving him flat on his back. Placing her hands on either side of his face, she let her hair curtain them as she planted hungry little kisses on his face. Then she rubbed her body sensuously over his and gently thrust her hips against his hardness.

“Tara!” Rand's attempt to stop her was half-hearted.

His hands slid up her thighs to her waist, his fingers stroking her through the satin. She was so soft and warm and sexy. She smelled delicious, and he loved the scent that was exclusively hers.

Tara quickly became intoxicated with the taste and feel of him. She wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but first she had to have a real kiss. Her tongue teased his lips open and then plunged into the hot depths of his mouth. He sucked it greedily. A low moan escaped his throat and his hands clenched convulsively.

“Baby,” he whispered when she allowed him a breath.

Their gazes locked and she stole another kiss.

With both hands, he reached for the straps of her gown and slowly edged them off her shoulders. Then he bared her breasts and lifted her close to his face so that he could watch her reaction as he licked their rosy peaks.

Her breath hissed from her lungs. “Oh, Rand!” she cried, her body undulating against his.

He took his time adoring her, loving her uninhibited responses. He watched her eyes grow dark with desire and the blood thundered through his body. His breathing roughened and his hands urgently caressed her.

Then, he slowly reversed their positions and slid his hands beneath the skirt of her nightgown. He let her feel the full force of his need against her naked flesh. Her thighs parted, welcoming him, and together they sated the passion that raged between them.

In the aftermath of loving, he cradled her warm body in his arms. She snuggled close.

Rand hated to disturb the peace between them, but the discussion couldn't be avoided any longer.

“We still have to talk, Tara."

He felt her tense and wondered what she expected him to say. He didn't stop her from withdrawing from his embrace, but he felt bereft when she moved out of reach.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, her voice slightly unsteady. As she spoke, she sat up, keeping her back to him. She pulled the bodice of her gown over her chest and adjusted it properly.

“I have to know what happened, Tara,” he told her, and watched her spine stiffen. It wasn't a good sign.

“We can't just leave a black hole in our relationship. I can accept the fact that you didn't want to come home. I don't like it,” he admitted roughly."I know you were confused and bitter. That was partly my fault. I was a rotten husband, but that doesn't excuse your treatment of Mindi. I can't accept the fact that you just disappeared for months. You didn't call, and we couldn't reach you. Mindi was distraught and Mom was frantic. Your mom wouldn't give us a clue to your whereabouts."

Tara could hear underlying anger in his voice. She understood his frustration and wished she could tell him the whole truth, but the risk was too great.

“You knew the separation from you would be hard for her. Didn't you feel it, too? Didn't you care at all?"

“I felt it, and I cared,” Tara responded, her temper matching his. “I bought tickets to fly home the next weekend, but then all hell broke loose at work and I had to cancel my plans."

Rand didn't like talking to her back. He pulled her around to face him. “What kind of trouble at work was more important than your daughter?"

“I didn't make a choice between the two,” Tara explained, carefully guarding her words. She had decided to tell him most of the story, anyway.

“I was working late on Friday evening and some maniac with a grudge against the company set off a bomb in the reception area. I was knocked out and suffered a concussion. I don't remember much after that. The details are sketchy in my mind.” That was the absolute truth.

Rand didn't know what he'd expected her to tell him, but he was definitely shocked by her story.

“Why didn't I hear about a bombing? Why didn't someone get in touch with me?” he wanted to know.

“I made my mother promise not to tell you."

“Why?” he demanded irately. “I'm your husband."

Tara had known one question would lead to another and soon she was going to run out of answers. “The man who bombed the office was totally demented. He blamed my father for every sorry thing that had ever happened to him in his life."

“He wanted revenge?"

“Yes, but he didn't believe that Daddy had suffered a stroke. He refused to accept the fact that the object of his revenge was already confined to a wheelchair, so he threatened me in hopes of getting at Daddy."

“How did he threaten you? Do you mean you were trapped in the office with this madman?"

Tara's fingers clutched at the sheet, her agitation increasing as she was forced to remember.

“The bomb didn't really do much damage. It was just a ploy to get attention. Finding me alone in the office was a bonus, I guess. He decided to hold me captive until my dad agreed to talk to him."

Rand's blood turned to ice in his veins, yet his anger and frustration mounted. “Why the hell didn't someone call me?"

“Rand,” Tara tried to be patient, “my mother was battling for both my life and my father's. She begged, pleaded, and bargained to keep the story as quiet as possible. We both knew the news would kill Daddy. The police didn't know anything about this man, and they didn't know if he was working alone. He threatened to kill my entire family. I couldn't involve you and Mindi. I made Mother swear she wouldn't tell anyone."

Rand battled his own churning emotions and tried to come to terms with what she was telling him. She'd been in horrible danger, and he hadn't even known. He should have known. He should have been there to support or protect her. He'd taken an oath to honor and protect. The black hole was threatening to swallow him.

“How long did he hold you captive?” he ground out harshly, his body rigid with impotent fury. “It couldn't have been three months.” He prayed it hadn't been that long. “Nobody could keep that kind of story out of the national news."

“We were at the office for about forty-eight hours while he negotiated with police and my mother. He insisted on talking to Daddy and nearly went berserk when his demands weren't met."

“He hurt you?” The question was ripped from Rand's throat. He was so numbed by his own shock and fury that he couldn't even reach out and comfort her.

“I don't remember much, probably because of the concussion,” she told him. The details were foggy, she really couldn't elaborate. The only thing she clearly remembered was the agony of fear and frustration.

Tara realized she was mangling the sheets with her nervous fingers, and she clasped her hands in her lap. She couldn't look at Rand. She understood the emotional shock he was experiencing, but dared not reassure him. If she even touched him, she might break down completely and tell him the whole truth.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, feeling murderous.

“He didn't rape me, if that's what you mean."

“I mean did he abuse you in any way?"

“He tied me to a chair and threatened me. He made a tape recording of my responses so that my mom and dad would realize who was in control of the situation."

Rand hauled her close to him, his eyes burning into hers. “I need to know, Tara,” he told her hoarsely. “I need to know what he did to you.” If he didn't know, he couldn't protect her against the fears she harbored. He remembered the nightmare and knew she still suffered.

Tara wondered how she could find the words to describe her experience. The damage had been emotional, not physical. She decided to be blunt.

“Mother said he broke three of my fingers. He had a knife and cut me, but not seriously. He threatened to cut off my ears and send them to Daddy, but he didn't do that."

Her hands were beautiful. Rand lifted them, but couldn't tell which fingers had been broken. He kissed all of them. Then he touched her ears with gentle fingers. Behind her left ear he felt a jagged scar and a sick kind of fear assaulted him. He thought of Tara's flesh being callously sliced while she was helpless to protect herself.

“I have no memory of pain,” she told him quietly, hating the tortured look on his features. “My brain completely blocked out the details."

“But not the fear?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Tara pulled away from him and slid to the side of the bed. “The fear has diminished. I have an occasional nightmare, that's all."

“What happened to him?” Rand's tone was as flat as hers, but flat and deadly.

He knew the emotional torture she'd experienced was the worst kind. A murderous rage welled within him, and he suddenly understood how a man could be driven to kill.

“One of the SWAT team's sharpshooters shot him. The FBI established an identity and assured Mother that he was a loner and a renegade. He's dead now. End of story."

She was drained. Rand ached to comfort her, but he knew if he reached for her now she would reject his touch. They sat in silence for several minutes. Then he spoke to her in a quiet, encouraging tone.

“What then, Tara? You didn't go back to work and you didn't come home. You disappeared for months. Where were you?” He didn't know if it was the best time to ask, but he wanted it all out in the open, with no secrets between them.

He asked the question she most feared and wouldn't answer. “I was resting and recuperating,” she retorted defensively. “Does it really matter where?"

“It's a black hole, Tara,” he explained, and knew she understood.

A black hole. That was an accurate description of her life during those three missing months. The thought brought her to her feet. She headed for the door without another word.

“Spend the night,” Rand coaxed huskily. “Please."

He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted her to trust him and turn to him for comfort, even though he'd never given her any reason to.

She turned at the door and looked directly into his eyes. “I can't stay here all night. It's your bedroom and Mindi might see us together. Then we'd either have to lie to her or tell her the truth."

Her parting words hung in the air, taunting him long after she'd gone. Confusion, frustration, and anger warred within him. He battled with a multitude of images and emotions. Seeing Tara and Mindi together, laughing. Getting to know Tara as a temptress and lover. Then her horror story.

He believed every word. It explained so much, yet left so many questions. Why hadn't anyone called him? Once the threat to the family was gone, why hadn't he been told? What was she so determined to hide? He knew it couldn't involve a man, so why was she afraid to tell him?

He didn't have the answers, but he would have them as soon as humanly possible. He'd find a way to get at the truth. In the meantime, he had some serious decisions to make. Mindi had asked him if Tara could be her mommy.

It was a long night. Rand didn't sleep. He got out of bed close to dawn and went to the kitchen for coffee. Dot already had a pot brewing. She took one look at her son and knew he was hurting.

“Tara?” she asked as she poured them both a cup of coffee and sat down with him. “That's a silly question, isn't it?"

“Did you know about the bombing at her office?” he asked without preamble.

“I asked her about it, but she shrugged it off."

“Did you know she was held hostage and sliced up with a knife? That some demented maniac broke her fingers and terrorized her for forty-eight hours?"

He could tell by her shocked expression that she hadn't known. “I'm sorry,” he said, trying to control his own rage. “I shouldn't have been so blunt, but I was afraid you might be trying to protect me, too."

“I didn't know,” Dorothy swore, her hand trembling as she sat her cup in the saucer. “Was she badly hurt?"

As briefly as possible, her explained Tara's ordeal. Dot was visibly shaken by the details and felt terribly guilty.

“Dear God! What Tara must have endured! And Doris! How did she bear to have both of her loved ones in such danger?"

Rand thought about Tara's frequent calls to her mother. “Tara thinks her mother is amazing."

“I'm not surprised,” Dorothy said. “I've been talking to Doris on a regular basis, but she's very protective of Tara. She rarely discusses her at all."

“She never told you where Tara went after the bombing?"

Dorothy sipped her coffee, then gave him a level stare. “She didn't tell me, but I did some investigating on my own."

“You had Tara investigated?"

“I wanted some answers. Unlike you, I didn't think she'd run off with some man."

“What did you find out?"

“That she spent three months at her parents’ home. For two of those months she wasn't even seen outside the house."

“Why?” Rand asked. “Why didn't she come home? Why didn't she get out of that town and come back here?"

“I can't answer that for sure, but I would guess it had a lot to do with the trauma she'd experienced."

“She could have recuperated here,” he insisted.

“Think about it,” his mother suggested gently. “Have you ever known Tara to stay cooped up inside a house for two solid months. Her scars were more than surface wounds."

He didn't like to think about it. “You believe she had some sort of breakdown? An emotional or nervous breakdown?"

“That would be my guess. A person can only take so much stress. If Tara had a head injury that went unattended for two days, then she suffered cruelty that was beyond her experience, she might have withdrawn into herself as a form of self-defense."

Rand buried his face in his hands and then raked his fingers through his hair. All he knew for sure was that Tara had been hurting badly, and he hadn't been there to help her.

“I could be completely wrong, too,” Dot said. “Tara's the only one who can tell you the whole story."

“Why is she afraid to tell me? Is she ashamed of the fact that she's human? That she's not superwoman? Does she think I'm too insensitive to understand?” he demanded in frustration.

“You're thinking with your heart and not your head, Honey,” Dorothy told him, placing a hand over his balled fist and squeezing it tightly. “What do you think a lawyer would do with that kind of information in a custody battle? By sharing her secret, Tara would also risk losing her daughter again."

The pain in Rand's eyes was raw. He rose from the table and hurled his chair across the room in an explosion of pent-up emotion. Dot flinched at the sound of splintering wood, but she wasn't surprised. She didn't complain when he picked up another chair and threw it even more forcefully.

Then he left the house.

Twelve

Tara didn't sleep, either. Beth offered to fix her breakfast about eight o'clock, but she only wanted coffee. She spent the morning working in Rand's office. Dorothy had to run errands, so Mindi stayed with her and they practiced using the proper fingering on the computer keyboard.

Rand didn't come to the house for lunch, and she feared the worst. She knew he was avoiding her until he'd reached a decision about their future, but she didn't see any shining rainbows or happily-ever-after endings.

She couldn't blame him for not trusting her; she'd refused to tell him what he needed to know. He had every right to despise her for the heartache she'd caused. She wanted to promise him she'd make it all better. She loved him so desperately, but she didn't know how to convince him.

It was late afternoon before Rand came back to the house. He stood at his office door and watched her with weary eyes until she sensed his presence and looked directly at him.

He looked as haggard as she felt. When he moved further into the room, her heart went out to him. He'd been working too hard, worrying too much, and getting too little sleep. She knew how destructive that combination could be.

“I'm sorry for walking out on you last night,” she told him, shifting her gaze from the intensity of his.

Rand moved closer. “Are you sorry you can't trust me with the truth?"

Tara had anticipated the question. She'd thought of little else since she'd left his room last night. She wanted him to trust her implicitly, yet she wasn't prepared to trust him. Love was a two-way street. If she wanted it returned, she had to have faith in it, but it was difficult to describe a nervous breakdown.

“I was sick, Rand,” she stated without emotion. There weren't too many ways to sugar coat the grim details, but she tried. “I was sick and tired and unable to cope with the stress of everyday life. I stayed at home with my mother and let her nurse me back to health. When I found the strength and courage, I started to put my life back together, step by careful step. When I had recovered some self-respect, I came back here."

Rand had wanted to hear the truth from her, had demanded it, had desperately needed it, yet he ached with guilt. “I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me,” he told her roughly.

Tara's heart stopped and then raced. Could he possibly understand and not think she was weak or mentally ill? “Do you really mean that?"

Before he had a chance to respond, Dorothy rushed into the room, looking distraught. “Has anyone seen Mindi?"

She immediately had their attention. Neither of them had seen her within the hour.

“I thought she was taking a nap,” said Tara.

“She did take a nap,” Dot explained, “then I told her she could have a tea party on the front porch. She wanted to get everything ready and invite you. I know she wouldn't have just wandered off, but I can't find her anywhere."

“Where have you checked?” asked Rand.

“I checked the porch first, then the front and back yards. I went to the barns, but none of the men had seen her. She just disappeared in a matter of minutes. I can't imagine where she could have gone so quickly. I'm fairly sure she didn't come back in the house."

“Let's check anyway.” Rand didn't waste time with more questions. “We'll start with the house and take it room by room, checking every corner where she could hide."

With Beth's help, the four of them did as he suggested, searching all the rooms and every inch of the house from basement to attic. They didn't have any luck.

Rand called the barns and alerted Mike. He and the men began to comb the property, calling Mindi's name. When they still hadn't had any success, they started to search the same areas again, rotating locations so that everybody looked everywhere more than once.

An hour passed and then another hour and the search became frantic. Their voices grew desperate as they called Mindi's name and received no response.

Rand called the sheriff's office. Ben Taylor was a personal friend and didn't give him any trouble with questions or missing-person reports. He alerted all his deputies and in thirty minutes the ranch was swarming with more help. They expanded the radius of their search on horseback, on motorcycles, and in trucks.

A pair of bloodhounds was brought to the house and given Mindi's scent. They raced around and around the porch, down the steps and across the driveway, but they never moved more than a few dozen feet from the front door.

Tara was exhausted and using all her strength to fight off panic, but she wasn't slow to decipher the meaning of the dogs’ pattern of circles.

“Mindi didn't walk away from this house,” she declared aloud, voicing the fear that they were all feeling. “She was put in a vehicle of some sort and driven off the ranch. That's why she disappeared so quickly."

“I think you're right,” Dorothy agreed despondently.

“Nobody comes through that gate without my approval,” Rand insisted, then bit back his words when he remembered that Tara had driven right up to the front porch without his knowledge.

“It had to be someone with clearance. Maybe even someone Mindi knows well,” Dot surmised. “She wouldn't get in a car with a stranger. She's much too independent and she's been taught to be cautious."

Tara was already pale, but turned as white as chalk. The thought of Mindi being deliberately abducted made her head throb and her stomach chum with sick fear.

“She couldn't have been taken by force,” Rand told her. He moved to her side and slipped a supportive arm around her waist. “Rex never leaves her side when she's outdoors. He would have raised hell if anyone touched her."

“Then someone she knew and trusted must have lured her into a car,” Ben said. “We'll keep combing the ranch while we have daylight, but I think we'd better consider the possibility of a kidnapping."

Tara grew faint and was grateful for Rand's strong arm. She felt the shudder that ripped through him and clutched his hand with an iron grip. He reached out his free arm to Dot and pulled her close.

“I only left her for a minute,” Dorothy repeated for the hundredth time.

“Don't do that to yourself, Mom,” Rand admonished her.

“She always plays on the porch, and she never goes anywhere without telling me."

“It's not your fault. We can't keep her under surveillance every minute of the day. She shouldn't be in any danger in her own front yard."

His words were bitter and everyone agreed, but they were also aware of his wealth. The children of wealthy men were fair game to unscrupulous criminals.

“What now?” Rand wanted Ben to tell him there was something else that could be done.

“We keep looking and we wait. If someone wants to exchange her for money, they'll get in touch with you."

Tara jerked free of Rand's hold. “We have to feed all these people,” she insisted, heading for the house. She had to do something or she would lose her mind. Dwelling on all the possibilities was asking for trouble.

Rand didn't understand her motives and started to go after her. Dot stopped him. “She has to keep busy. If she wants to stay in control, she has to fight off the panic with some kind of productive activity."

His mother wasn't a psychologist, but she had plenty of common sense. Rand trusted her insight. He was fighting to control his own panic. Most of the people to whom he gave clearance at the gate were men. The thought of any grown man hurting or traumatizing his baby enraged him to madness. He couldn't dwell on it, either.

“I'll help Tara and Beth.” Dorothy went into the house.

“There has to be something we can do,” Rand insisted stubbornly, running his hand wearily through his hair.

Sheriff Taylor was Rand's age. He had a tall, lanky build and a youthful countenance that was deceptive. His mild manner camouflaged a sharp mind, and he was a ruthless defender of justice.

“I'll need a list of everyone who has clearance or access to your gate code. We can put a tap on your phone and try to trace incoming calls.” He directed his attention to Mike next.

“Get me a list of every ranch hand on or off the property. I want to know where everyone was every minute of the day. I'd like to talk to all of them individually. Someone might have seen a car or truck come to the house. If it was someone familiar, they might not think it worth mentioning."

“You can use my office,” Rand told him, then turned to Curt. “Have everyone file into the kitchen for something to eat and then tell them to stay close until they talk to Ben."

Turning back to the sheriff, he asked, “Do we call off the search?” The sun was setting.

“We'd be wasting our time after dark. If we don't hear anything tonight we can start again at daybreak. The neighbors and my deputies might as well go home."

Rand gave orders to send everyone home. Some straggled and some stayed to eat. Everyone was curious, but not offensively so. It was well after ten before all the extra help had gone.

It was dark. Tara tried not to think of the darkness, of the fear, the total helplessness. She and Dorothy had sent Beth home. They washed and dried dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Men were still wandering around the house, waiting to talk with the sheriff. Ben had wired the phone and everyone jumped every time it rang, but there had been no message from the kidnappers.

That was even more frightening. If someone had taken Mindi for financial gain, they were more likely to treat her with care. If someone had just taken her ... Tara couldn't bear to think about it.

The kitchen was spotless. Dorothy put her arm around her. “There's nothing more to do in here. Let's go see if Rand and Ben are having any luck."

Tara neatly folded her dish towel and laid it on the counter. She was doing everything very carefully and correctly now. She was forcing herself to concentrate on small details, on precise movements. She had to be strong. She couldn't let Rand and Mindi down now.

The phone rang, and she began to tremble.

“Tara?” Rand called, and she hurried to the office, her heart racing.

“It's your mother,” he swiftly reassured when he saw her terrified expression.

She took the receiver from him and clutched it to her breast while she took several deep breaths. She didn't want her mother to guess at her state of mind.

“What do I tell her?” she whispered.

He glanced at Ben, then back to her. “The truth."

As carefully as possible and with amazing calm, Tara related the events of the day to her mother. She fielded Doris’ questions and never once gave an inkling of her own feelings. Then Doris asked to speak with Rand. Tara handed him the receiver.

“We'll be on the first available flight to Oklahoma City. Can you have somebody pick us up at the airport?"

“That's no problem. Will Paul be coming?” He didn't know if a stroke victim should be subjected to a potentially volatile situation.

“He's fully recovered and stronger than ever. It's Tara I'm worried about,” Doris told him.

“She's doing as well as can be expected."

“She's keeping it all bottled up inside,” Doris argued. “That's the worst possible thing for her to do. She needs someone with her."

“She has me, Doris."

“Can she depend on you?” his mother-in-law demanded curtly.

“Yes.” Rand was equally succinct. His tone was laced with steel. In just one word, he conveyed a wealth of emotion.

He heard Doris’ sigh of relief. “Thank God,” she said. “I'll call when I know what time we'll be arriving."

Rand said good-bye and hung up the phone. He pulled Tara into his arms and just held her. She remained tense, but she wrapped her arms around him and held him, too.

“Is there anyone you haven't talked to?” he asked Ben.

The sheriff checked the list of names in front of him. “A couple of employees had the day off. We're trying to find them tonight. If not, they're due back at work tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Tara shuddered. She couldn't stand the thought of Mindi being gone all night, of her being alone and frightened, wondering why nobody had come to get her.

Tears welled in her eyes as the horror of her own captivity returned to torment her. She didn't even try to contain the onslaught of sobbing that followed the tears. Rand held her tightly and buried his face in her hair. He tried to absorb some of her pain, but he didn't tell her not to cry.

The tormented sound of her weeping silenced everyone else in the room. It was long minutes later before the wracking sobs quieted to muffled crying and eventually stopped.

When she was calm again, she eased out of Rand's arms and gave him a watery smile, feeling a little better after relieving some of the incredible tension. “Handkerchief?"

He handed her one. “Are you going to be okay?"

His concern lent her strength. “I'm all right, but I feel grubby. I think I'll go take a shower.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Come and get me if you hear anything."

“I promise,” he swore. Then he turned to his mother. “You should try to get some rest."

Dorothy nodded. “I can't rest, but I think I can relax in a hot bath. You'll let me know?"

“Promise,” he reiterated.

Tara walked down the hallway with Dot and then headed to her own wing of the house. Her bedroom was dark and she flipped on the light. She looked under the bed, in the closet, and the bathroom. It had been done a dozen times, but she wanted to make sure they hadn't missed anyplace where a child could hide. The room was just as empty as it had been earlier. Mindi wasn't in the house. Tara knew it instinctively, yet she kept hoping she'd suddenly reappear, safe and unharmed.

Going to the mirror above her dresser, she frowned at her haggard appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was a wild tangle. She absently picked up a hairbrush and ran it through her hair until it crackled.

It wasn't until she laid down the brush that she noticed the envelope tucked beneath her makeup case. She frowned, knowing it hadn't been there this morning. Suddenly she began to tremble more violently. She reached for the letter with shaking fingers.

A handwritten note on a plain piece of computer paper was inside the envelope. Hers hands shook so badly she could hardly read. When she finally absorbed the contents of the letter, she stared at it in stunned amazement. She didn't believe what she was reading.

Dear Tara,

I admire you more than any woman I ever met and I can't stand to see you so unhappy. I decided to steal Mindi from McCain. You can take your beloved daughter and make a new life.

Mindi is fine. Meet us at the end of the old Wagner Road as soon as you can safely leave the ranch. Don't let anybody know where we're meeting and make sure you're not followed or I'll be forced to hide Mindi and make other plans.

There was no signature. Tara read and reread the note, trying to imagine who could have left it in her room and who would think she wanted to steal Mindi from Rand.

What in God's name was she going to do? She didn't want to do anything without Rand's knowledge, yet the letter warned against telling anyone. What kind of person was she dealing with? Was it a man or woman? Was he or she mentally unbalanced?

Was the note legitimate or someone's sick attempt to harass her? Who could have put it in her room? Someone who had been pretending to search for Mindi? That would mean a friend or member of the ranch staff. Who and why?

The questions were endless, and Tara was tired of trying to find solutions. It was time for action. She was going after Mindi. If the note was fake, it wouldn't cost anything to find out. If it was legitimate, she could bring her baby home.

Stuffing the note in her purse, she grabbed a sweater and pulled it on over her shirt and jeans. Then she left the room and headed down the hall. Her car was parked out front.

It wasn't going to be easy to sneak out of the house. Using the back door would really seem suspicious, so she could only hope she didn't encounter anyone on her way out the front door.

She slowed her pace when she approached Rand's office, hearing voices and assuming that he, Ben, and the others were still congregated in one room. The door was ajar, but she had to pass it. She hugged the opposite wall and made a dash for the door. There was nobody in the front yard, so she didn't stop until she was behind the wheel of her car.

“Rand,” Mike interrupted a conversation between his employer and the sheriff. “I could swear I just saw Tara sneak past that door."

“You're tired,” Rand dismissed the thought.

“I saw a flash of movement,” Curt agreed with Mike. He walked to the window and drew back the drapes. The yard was well illuminated. “She's getting into her car."

Rand was beside him in an instant, staring out the window as Tara ignited the car's engine and pulled away without turning on her headlights.

“What the hell?” he growled. What did she think she was doing? Was she desperate to get away from all of them? Surely she wasn't going to continue the search in the dark.

Curt was the first to voice suspicion. “Maybe she engineered the kidnapping."

“No!” Rand snarled.

“No,” Mike protested, but his eyes filled with doubt.

“Is there a custody battle?” Ben wanted to know.

“No,” Rand snapped. Doubt assailed him briefly, but was swiftly crushed. He had to trust his instincts. “Tara wouldn't do that to Mindi. Do you think her pain and fear were faked?” he defended hotly, glaring at all of them. “Do you think she'd deliberately subject us to this kind of agony?"

The men didn't argue, but were skeptical. Rand punched the intercom button and called the guard house. “Don't open the gates for anyone,” he clipped.

“I don't know what the hell she's doing, but I'm not taking a chance on losing her, too. I'm going after her."

“I'll drive,” Ben offered. “My cruiser is out front.” It wasn't a personal favor. He was a good judge of character and believed Tara innocent, but he had a job to do.

When they reached the end of the drive, they found Tara's car at the gate. She was arguing with the guard, but as soon as she saw Rand climb from the cruiser, she raced toward him.

“Rand, please!” she begged, flattening her palms against his chest. “I have to leave!"

For one terrifying instant he thought she meant she was leaving him, that she couldn't cope with the responsibilities of marriage and motherhood.

“I know where Mindi is and I have to go get her!"

The other men were out of the car and looking at her with open suspicion, but they didn't interfere.

“You're not going anywhere alone,” he argued, his hands reaching for her waist.

Tara jerked away from him and ran back to her car. She knew they didn't trust her. She couldn't really blame them, but she had to make them understand the situation. She grabbed the kidnapper's note from her purse and headed back to Rand.

He met her halfway and she shoved the letter into his hands. The floodlights gave him sufficient lighting to read the brief message.

“Someone has Mindi and is waiting for me on Wagner Road,” she explained as he passed the note to Ben. “I have to go after her and it says not to let anyone follow me,” she insisted, her voice rising shrilly.

“Calm down, Tara.” His quiet command had the desired effect. She reached for his hand, and he pulled her close to his side.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized, forcing herself to breathe deeply. “I'm not hysterical, I'm just afraid if I do anything wrong, Mindi will be the one to suffer."

“Tell us about the note,” Ben urged.

“I found it on my dresser. I know it wasn't there this morning, but it was in plain sight."

“Who else was in the room?"

Rand answered for her. “There were more than a dozen people searching the house, but they were all family and staff members. I didn't see anyone I don't know and trust.” .

“We're obviously dealing with someone you trust,” Ben countered. “If this note is legitimate, then it's someone who knows and admires Tara, someone who believes she wants custody of Mindi and is prepared to commit a felony on her behalf."

Tara closed her eyes and prayed for an end to this nightmare. “Rand, I swear I've never led anyone to believe that I want Mindi taken from this ranch.” Her eyes were eloquent as she pleaded with him. “I don't know how anybody could have gotten such an insane idea."

He believed her, but that didn't solve their problem. Somehow, someone had gotten the impression that she was desperate to get Mindi.

“Pruitt.” Curt stunned them all with the identity of the kidnapper. “I was trying to remember who told me they admired Tara more than any woman they'd ever met. It was Pruitt."

“He asked me if I thought Rand was abusing Tara and using Mindi to keep her trapped in marriage. I told him he was nuts and it was none of his business, anyway. I'm really sorry I didn't mention it early. I didn't give it another thought until I read that note."

Rand swore savagely. Tara found it hard to believe that Donnie Pruitt would go to such extremes on her behalf. She barely knew him.

“He thought you were trying to sneak Mindi out of here that night he stopped you from going to town. Later we were fighting and I took you back to the house. You said he probably thought I'd strangled you to death,” Rand pointed out.

The whole bizarre puzzle started to fall into place. “He told me he understood that you had to handle children with care and that they had special needs,” Tara told them.

“Today was his day off, but I saw him at the house this evening,” Mike added.

“And I warned him to stay away from Tara,” Rand injected tersely.

“You did what?” she asked in amazement.

“I told him to stay away from you."

“Why would you do that? I haven't spent more than an hour with him since I came home!"

“I didn't like the way he looked at you."

Tara gasped at the admission. Nobody else seemed to think there was anything wrong with his possessive attitude.

“Well,” said Ben, “now that we have a pretty good idea who we're after, how do you want to handle this?"

“I'm going after Mindi,” Tara declared before Rand had an opportunity to speak. They all started to argue with her, but she hushed them with her reasoning.

“Donnie is expecting me. We can't take a chance that anyone else will scare him into hiding. He knows my car and I don't think he'd hurt me or Mindi. I'm going to meet him and try to talk some sense into him. If I explain how I really feel, he'll have to accept the facts."

“You're not going anywhere alone.” Rand's tone rang with finality. “I'll go with you."

“He's bound to run for cover if he sees you,” put in Mike.

“I'll hide."

“In my car?” Tara exclaimed.

“You can drive another car."

“He'll expect me in the Porsche. If he sees any other car come down that road, he'll be gone in a flash. I have to go by myself. I really don't think I'll be in any danger, Rand, and Mindi might be terrified by now."

The reminder of Mindi made him hesitate, but not for long. “No.” He shook his head and refused to consider the idea.

“We could follow as close as possible and I can set up roadblocks in every direction. He wouldn't get very far,” Ben reasoned.

“No, but he'd have both Tara and Mindi to bargain with,” Rand ground out harshly. He pulled Tara into his arms and hugged her tightly. She'd been used as an emotional bargaining tool once and he didn't want it to happen again.

Tara's heart ached with love. Rand was trying to protect her and she cherished that protection, but she couldn't accept it at Mindi's expense.

“Please, Rand,” she begged, lifting her eyes and locking them with his, “I have to do this. You have to trust me."

“It's not a matter of trust,” he argued gruffly. He couldn't risk losing her.

“We could let Tara wear a monitoring device. That way we can hear everything that goes on and we'll know if Pruitt gets agitated or unreasonable."

“There's no time for that,” she argued. “Mindi's been gone for hours.” Her voice grew rough at the thought.

“Please, Rand, I'm begging. I'll do anything..."

The rest of her promise was smothered against Rand's shirt as he dragged her face against his chest. He didn't want her bargaining with love.

“All right.” The concession was hard to make. “You can go after her if you promise that you won't take any chances."

She rubbed her face against him and drew strength from the steady thud of his heartbeat. “I'm not going to do anything that might endanger Mindi,” she promised, her eyes turbulent with emotion as she stepped out of his arms.

They didn't waste any more time. Ben handed her a two-way radio and showed her how to use it. “Call as soon as you see him or if you suspect complications. We won't be more than a couple of minutes behind you."

“Pruitt drives an old black pickup truck,” Rand told her. “If you see any other vehicle, let us know and stay in the car. Don't take any chances."

“I'll be careful,” Tara swore softly, standing on tiptoe to give him a swift, hard kiss. Then she ran to her car. In another few minutes the gates had opened and she headed for Wagner Road. It wasn't more than three miles from the ranch.

She had no trouble finding the turn-off. A glance in the rearview mirror showed only an empty stretch of pavement behind her. She was relieved that Rand wasn't following too closely.

Her car bounced over a rutted road that was seldom used for anything but cattle. It seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. The moon was bright and the sky clear, but she stilt felt surrounded by endless emptiness.

She was within a few yards of the parked truck before she saw it and eased on the brakes. Her pulse was racing and her hands were sweaty. She wiped them on the denim of her jeans and pushed the button on the radio.

“I found his truck,” she told the men at the other end of her signal. “It's a mile and a half down the road. I can't see Mindi, but Donnie is coming toward me."

Her voice sounded eerie in the confines of the car. She hid the radio under her purse and didn't say anything else. She didn't want Donnie to know she was in contact with the others.

As Tara rolled down her window, she wondered what in the world she could say to him. It would have to be something very agreeable until she found out where Mindi was.

“I knew you would come,” said Donnie as he leaned close. “I know how important Mindi is to you."

“Where is she?” Tara was amazed to hear the calm in her own voice. Her nerves were raw and her stomach tied in knots.

“She's sound asleep in the cab of my truck. I took her to get some strawberry ice cream and then my mom watched her while I brought the note to the ranch. Mom didn't have any idea that I was stealing Mindi for you. I just told her I was doing the boss a favor by baby-sitting.

“Your little girl has been real good all day. She didn't even get grumpy until she got tired tonight. When I told her we were waiting here for you, she just curled up and went to sleep."

He was talking too fast, running his words together, and sounding more agitated with each sentence. Tara wondered if he'd been drinking or if he was high on some sort of drug. His eyes kept shifting from side to side and his hands were never still.

“Is it all right if I get Mindi and put her in my car?"

“I thought we'd take my truck. It wouldn't be as easy to find as your car.

Tara was cautious in her response. “Where are you planning to go?"

“I thought we might head for Texas. It's a big state and we can find work until we have enough money to move again."

“I don't know if I can stand to spend the rest of my life running and hiding,” Tara told him quietly.

“It's better than staying with McCain and letting him abuse you,” Donnie almost shouted, slamming his fist against her car door. He reached for the handle. It was locked, but with the window down, all he had to do was lift the button.

“You're not one of those women who love that kind of treatment, are you?” he demanded. He opened the door and Tara didn't think she should provoke him by refusing to get out. Her legs were shaky, so she stiffened them and stepped to the ground.

Donnie slammed the door. “Do you like it when he's so rough with you?

“Rand has never hurt me, Donnie."

“That's a lie. You're lying to me. Why are you lying?” His voice rose an octave. “I saw you fighting. I saw him shake you and drag you to his truck."

“I swear that he's never hurt me,” she insisted, keeping her tone as calm and steady as she could.

“He tried to get you killed! He took you out in that tornado and left you to die!"

Tara slowly moved toward the truck while he paced and ranted at her. She wanted to see Mindi and be sure she was all right. She just hoped Donnie's yelling wouldn't wake her.

“I volunteered to help the night of the storm. Rand was the one who saved me from the tornado. He carried me into the barn and made sure I was protected."

“No! No! I don't believe it! You're protecting him for some reason. Are you afraid he'll catch us? Don't you think I can take care of you? I'm twice the man he is! I don't beat up on women!"

Tara caught sight of Mindi. There was enough light to see her curled in a ball, sleeping. Her breathing seemed normal and she appeared unharmed. Relief washed over her.

“Don't you think I'm man enough to protect you against a brute like McCain?” Donnie was demanding her attention again. “Why do you think I went to all the trouble of stealing Mindi? I want to save you from him. I know you'll be happy once you're off his property and out from under his thumb."

Tara didn't know what to do next. She couldn't wake Mindi and try to carry her to the car. She didn't want to do anything that would panic Mindi or push Donnie over the edge. He wasn't going to respond to any form of reasoning.

“I think I'm in love with you, Tara,” he said, his voice changing to a pitiful whine. He moved closer, forcing her to step backward until she was flat against the truck.

“I've never met a woman who thinks the way I do, who understands how I feel about my computers. We're soulmates. I know we were meant for each other,” he added as he reached out a hand to stroke her face.

She hardly dared to breathe. He was so close she felt smothered by the heat of his body. He smelled of dirt and sweat.

“I'm a married woman, Donnie, I can't run away with you. It wouldn't be right."

“It don't matter to me."

“It matters to me. I came back here to save my marriage. I want to be with my husband and daughter."

“You're just stayin’ with him to be near Mindi. I know you are. She's the one you want."

“I want Mindi, but I want Rand, too. He's the only man I've ever loved or ever expect to love."

“No! You're lying!” he yelled, outraged. “You're coming with me!"

Tara tried to slip away, but he grabbed her by the arms and shoved her against the truck. She kicked him in the shin and struggled to escape his hold, but he was stronger than he looked. She finally got her right arm free and was pounding his chest when he was suddenly hauled out of her reach.

Rand was there. Donnie was no match for his strength. With just a few powerful blows, the younger man was knocked to the ground. He scrambled and would have run, but Mike and Curt were close. He didn't have a chance.

Sirens and flashing lights heralded the arrival of more deputies. Ben slipped handcuffs on Donnie and the arrest was made in a matter of minutes. He was read his rights as he was escorted to another cruiser.

Rand had Tara in his arms before she'd even caught her breath. “Did he hurt you?” he asked as his eyes scoured her flushed features.

“No, I'm fine,” she assured him. “How did you get here?"

“We walked from the car. Pruitt was so busy arguing with you that he couldn't hear anything else."

“Mindi's in the truck."

He kept one arm around her and opened the door. All the noise had disturbed Mindi's sleep. She sat up and stared at them, her expression a comical mixture of confusion and irritability.

“I been waitin’ a long time,” she complained, crawling across the seat and into Rand's arms. He hugged her fiercely. Tears mingled with the laughter on her parents’ faces. Tara took her turn hugging Mindi and then reluctantly relinquished her to Mike's big arms.

“Hey, Sweetheart! We thought you were lost!” he declared as he gave her a bear hug.

“Donnie said he was going to bring me to my mommy. I waited and waited."

Total silence followed her announcement. For an instant everyone was struck dumb. A rush of tears flooded Tara's eyes and her heart pounded erratically. She'd had no idea Mindi ever worried about her mother. What could they say to her?

Rand solved the problem. He took Mindi in his arms again. “Remember when you asked me if Tara could be your mommy?"

Mindi nodded, and he continued in a gentle voice. “I think if we ask her, she'd probably say yes."

They turned serious eyes on Tara. Hope flared wildly, tightening her chest. She was stunned and could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her gaze searched Rand's and then shifted to their daughter.

“Would you be our mommy?” Mindi asked in a polite, uncertain tone.

Tara's heart lodged in her throat. She didn't know what had prompted Rand to make his proposal, but she wasn't going to take a chance he might change his mind.

“I'd like that very much,” she managed to whisper in a voice thick with tears. “I think I'd like to start right now."

“You'll probably have to get married and sleep with my daddy,” Mindi warned.

She looked confused when the men burst into laughter. Tara wiped the tears from her cheeks, reached her arms out to her daughter, and then hugged her fiercely.

“I'll try to be one of the best mommies in the world. I'll even share my mommy and daddy with you, if you'd like. Then you'll have a grandpa and another grandma."

“Really?” Mindi was intrigued by the idea.

“Cross my heart,” Tara promised softly. “Cross my heart."

Thirteen

Rand and Tara stood by Mindi's bed, watching her sleep. Her dark, baby-soft curls made a perfect frame for her delicate features. Incredibly long lashes curled against her rosy cheeks. She slept peacefully, unaware of the trauma her family had experienced on her behalf. Her parents were reluctant to let her out of their sight. Rand stood behind Tara with his arms around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. He rocked her back and forth as though she were the baby. She wondered if be even realized he was swaying to and fro.

Turning in his arms, she tilted her head toward his. “I think Daddy is just a little sleepy, too,” she whispered.

Neither of them had gotten much sleep. They barely had the strength to stand.

Ben had taken Donnie to jail, but they hadn't decided how to charge him for his crime. He was to be tested for drug use and would be seeing a psychiatrist before any decision was made. Tara's parents arrived from Georgia and spent hours doting on their granddaughter. Mindi had been at the height of glory. Her family circle was widening and bringing her more adoring slaves. It was going to be difficult to keep from spoiling her rotten.

“It's nearly dawn again,” Rand murmured, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

“Another twenty-four hours to kill,” she teased.

He groaned. “Let's don't try for any new or unusual forms of entertainment."

Tara smothered a giggle against his neck. She was so tired she was in danger of getting giddy.

“Wanna go to bed with me?” he asked as his tongue tickled her ear.

“And do what?"

“Sleep?” Rand's question implied one thing while his body was sending an entirely different message.

“Your room or mine?"

His eyes locked with hers and the lighthearted banter turned decidedly serious. “Ours, I hope."

“We still have some talking to do,” she whispered.

“Can we make love first?"

Heat suffused Tara's body. “You have that much energy?"

“We'll make it slow and easy."

“I'd like that,” she responded huskily.

After one last glance at Mindi, they quietly left her and went to the master bedroom. Rand closed the door and locked it. He didn't want any surprise visits.

“Now I want to see what you're wearing under that robe."

Tara had gotten the chance to shower while Mindi was getting acquainted with her grandparents. She hadn't bothered with many clothes. It only took a few seconds to unzip her robe and let it fall to the floor. Erotically brief panties were her only attire.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered roughly.

He would have taken her into his arms, but she held him at arm's length. “Your turn."

His eyes registered surprise and then a lazy, sexy smile curved his lips. He was already barefoot. His shirt was only partially buttoned, so he took it off and pitched it aside with little effort. The jeans came next. He took his time with the snap and was even slower to draw down the zipper. The deliberately provocative action pleased her immensely.

When he stepped out of his jeans, he delighted her further by revealing very tight, low-slung briefs and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

Her breasts swelled, nipples hardened, and pulse accelerated when she lifted her eyes and locked them with his. His were so hot and hungry that they nearly stole her breath.

“You're gorgeous,” she murmured gruffly.

“Come and make love to me,” he coaxed.

Tara didn't need a second invitation. Her fingers itched to touch him and her body ached to know his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body intimately close, and took his mouth with a hunger that inflamed him.

He eased her back on the bed and then followed through with his promise to make slow, satisfying love. They shared a union fired with passion and sweetened by mutual need.

The physical satisfaction they found with each other was a truly special experience that Tara knew stemmed from the depths of her love. She just wished she could be sure that Rand's commitment to their relationship was based on love as well.

“Thank you,” he breathed against her ear as his body lay draped across hers. He rolled to his side, but pulled her into his arms and covered their entwined bodies with a sheet.

“Thank you,” she murmured drowsily.

“You're not going to sleep, are you?"

Her response was barely audible. “I'm seriously considering it."

“I have something to ask you, and I want your undivided attention."