Humming, Whitney walked on clouds the rest of the day. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Zack alone since their steamy kiss, but she needed that time to think about how that kiss made her feel.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on her chest. The fluttering in her heart hadn’t stopped since this morning. Actually, she didn’t want it to stop. She enjoyed the power it gave her. Never in her life had she finished kissing a man and known that he’d liked it just as much as she had. After seeing the passion on Zack’s face and the tender way he gazed into her eyes, it was hard not to know his feelings.

But why had he enjoyed it so much? She wanted to blame the pain pills, but she knew they hadn’t taken effect when they’d kissed. Was he really just lonely for a woman’s affection? It was difficult for her to believe that he actually wanted her. Zack Greyson had so much money, he could get any woman. So why her?

Joe was taking up much of Zack’s time after supper, so Whitney wandered back up to the attic. Since the kiss, she’d wanted to paint her feelings on the canvas. By painting her thoughts, she’d be able to refer back to the picture and remember this moment in her life. A moment she never wanted to forget.

Whitney put the paints and brushes together, found a smock, and began. Time seemed to stand still as she painted. Yet her mind spun with emotions from her past. She’d been so happy at the ranch before the divorce. But once she and her mother had returned to city life, everything changed. Mother wouldn’t allow her to paint. Whitney received the impression that her mother thought she wasn’t any good even though other people had praised her paintings.

Mother hadn’t approved of anything Whitney tried to accomplish throughout the years. When she finally entered college, she was relieved to be away from her over-critical parent. However, Whitney tried hard to please everyone in her life no matter if they trampled her heart.

Zack had wondered why she didn’t believe in herself. It was because she’d never thought she was any good. It seemed that everything she tried to do had failed. Relationships with men were a joke. And now that she was an FBI agent, even that was a ridiculous farce. Zack had mentioned once how terrible she was at her job. He was right. She was the worst agent in the unit.

Was there anything she could do well?

She paused in her painting and studied the way the colors blended so well together, and the way the landscape of the ranch nearly jumped off the canvas. Nodding, she concluded that she was pretty darn good at painting, even if her mother thought differently.

How was it that being with Zack lately made her feel good about herself? True, that feeling hadn’t come to her until they’d left his mother’s house in Manhattan, but being with him on the ranch was just magical. Heaven. Dare she say... paradise? No, she wouldn’t use that term just yet.

“I’m glad you’re painting again.”

The man’s voice startled Whitney out of her thoughts and she jumped. Joe leaned against a wall as he stared at her painting. The smile on his face told her everything and her heart melted.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” she said.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. I could tell you were really enjoying your painting.”

“I am.” She sighed and put down the brush. “What time is it?”

“It’s about eleven o’clock.”

“What?” She jumped to her feet. “It’s that late? I need to help Zack to bed.”

Waving his hands, Joe moved away from the wall. “It’s already been done. Gladys was only too happy to help Zack.”

Whitney chuckled. “Yeah, I bet she was.”

Joe pulled a stool over next to her and sat. He took hold of her hand as a worried frown touched his face.

“Whit, I need to talk to you about Zack.”

“Okay.”

“How well do you really know him?”

When Captain Bott had given her the assignment to watch over the billionaire, she’d read Zack’s file over twice, along with studying his movements as she spied on him. “I think I know him pretty well. Why?”

Joe’s gaze dropped to his lap as he twisted his fingers. She held her breath, wondering what he knew that she didn’t. She prayed it wasn’t something terrible, especially now when she allowed her heart to be opened.

“Todd, one of my ranch hands, thinks Zack looks like the missing billionaire that’s been in the tabloids lately.” He raised his head and looked at her. “But you told me Zack’s last name was Tucker, right?” He shrugged. “I have to admit, your Zack and the billionaire Zack do resemble each other. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

She breathed a relieved sigh. “Joe,” she reached over and grasped one of his hands, “I haven’t been completely honest with you, and I’m sorry. I suppose it’s part of the job. But my Zack is the missing billionaire. I made him cut his hair and grow a beard, so he wouldn’t be easily recognized. The reason we are here is because I was assigned to watch him until the senator’s trial. But well, I goofed up the other day and now the senator’s hitman knows I’m with Zack. So, we’re now both in hiding.”

“Oh...” Joe’s shoulders sagged. “Well, now I don’t know which is worse – both of you lying to me or both of you in danger.”

She squeezed her stepfather’s hand. “If we can stay here, we’ll be all right. Just as long as you don’t tell anyone – not even Gladys. We really need to keep this secret for both of our safety.”

“Of course, Whit. You know I’ll do anything to protect you. And I’m glad Zack’s better than those other men you’ve been with.” He paused and worried lines creased his forehead and around his mouth. “But are you two just acting like you’re in love, or are you really in love?”

Whitney let out an uncomfortable laugh and straightened. “I wish I knew the answer to that.”

He grinned. “So you think you’re falling in love with him?”

“I don’t know about love, but I’m definitely attracted to him. And lately, he’s made me feel so special. I can’t describe it. I feel as though he’s given me a boost of confidence that I’ve lacked for years.”

“I like Zack. He does seem like a genuine guy. And hey, he’s rich.”

“I don’t care about his money.” She shook her head. “I just want someone who will love me for me and not what they want me to be.”

“I think Zack might just be the one who can do that.”

“Well, I’m taking things slowly. I don’t want my heart broken again.”

“Zack will understand that.” Joe stood and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “I want you to continue painting. Don’t worry about sleep right now.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

He took a few steps away before turning to look at her again. “You know, I really want you to call me Dad, if that’s okay.”

Love burst in her chest and she jumped up and threw her arms around him. Tears filled her eyes and her throat tightened with emotion.

“I’ve wanted to call you that for so long. You were the only father I had.”

“Then why haven’t you called me that before?” Joe withdrew slightly, looking into her eyes.

“Mother told me not to.”

He nodded and frowned. “I should have guessed.”

“I’m sorry for the wasted years.”

“As long as you start doing it now, you’ll make me very happy.”

“Thanks... Dad.”

* * * *

HOW WAS IT POSSIBLE that Zack’s legs were more sore today than yesterday? The trip down the stairs early that morning nearly had him screaming in pain. But he was no sissy. Men do not scream. However, men do cuss under their breath to keep from showing their emotions.

It surprised him when Whitney wasn’t at the breakfast table, but he waited patiently as he slowly ate his pancakes, sausage, hash browns, and eggs. By the time he was finished, she had yet to make an appearance.

He left the table and wandered into the kitchen. Gladys and Karen were chatting, but quieted when he walked inside.

“Are you ready for more pancakes,” Gladys asked cheerfully.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, ma’am. But I’m wondering if you’ve seen Whitney. I thought she’d be down for breakfast by now.”

“No, I haven’t. Did you check in the attic?”

“Why would she be up there?”

Gladys turned to the electric grill and flipped over two pancakes. “Joe mentioned that she was painting again.” She threw him a wide smile over her shoulder. “I’m assuming we have you to thank for that.”

His heart tripped in excitement. “Me?”

“Yes. You’re the first man who has made her want to paint again.” She wobbled over to him and lightly patted his cheek. “You are so wonderful.”

“Thanks, ma’am. I’d love to take the credit for that, but I think it’s because she’s back in this house. She has such great memories of being here.”

“Yes. Those were the good ole days.” Gladys nodded.

“Well, I suppose I’ll go see if she’s up there.” Inwardly, he groaned. He wasn’t looking forward to walking up all those many stairs – walking down them.

“When you see her,” Gladys added, “tell her I’ve made her favorite breakfast.”

“I will.” He gave the ladies a small wave before leaving the kitchen.

As he limped toward the stairs, he passed the large picture window. The blinds were open and he glanced outside at the beautiful red, gold, and brown colors of autumn. But then he saw something else that had his heart skipping faster. It looked as though he didn’t have to climb all those stairs after all. Whitney was outside on a tire-swing hooked to the large oak tree in the front yard.

His heart melted. She looked similar to how she had yesterday. Her hair was long and flowing over her shoulders, she wore a pink flannel with black jeans. She fit in with the ranch scene perfectly. Maybe she’d change her mind about being an FBI agent and work on Joe’s ranch, instead.

Perhaps he needed to help her out by nudging her in the right direction.