Kendall pulled her late model BMW in front of the quaint Victorian house and paused for a moment, checking the address before getting out. The air was sweet with the sound of birds and heavy with the scent of newly mown grass. Freshly painted gingerbread trim brightened the house. A silly rooster wind vane spun crazily at one corner of the roof. Yellow roses twined about the neat picket fence, while a large Siamese cat blinked at her sleepily from a chair on the porch.

Kendall frowned, one hand brushing back stray strands of her jet black hair. This was the home of a bounty hunter? It hardly seemed likely.

“Brett Carrington used to do quite a bit of bounty hunting,” Ernie had told her with a shrug just half an hour before. “Nowadays he runs the Mountain Search and Rescue Squad. Best tracker in these parts. We’re lucky to have him here in Sweet Willow. If you really want to find that Chelsea of yours, better look up Brett. He’ll find her.”

Bounty hunting. The words cut like an obscenity. Here she was, turning to a man who’d once killed mountain lions to make a living off their pelts to help find Chelsea. She shuddered, standing indecisively on the doorstep. But there wasn’t much choice. She didn’t know the terrain here in the coast country.

He did. She needed him. She knocked.

The door swung open at her touch, but no one came to greet her. “Hello,” she called tentatively, peering inside.

Polished oak floors. An antique table with a lace cloth and a bowl full of sweet peas. Carefully painted molding. A Persian rug runner.

“Hello,” she said again, stepping inside.

A woman’s shriek pierced the silence, jerking Kendall’s head up. The sound came from upstairs. Another shriek, then male laughter.

“Brett! Cut it out! Give me back my bra, you bully...”

A crash. More laughter, this time male and female intertwined.

Kendall’s shoulders sagged. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. Just her luck to find the man in the middle of a romantic encounter. She wavered for a moment, instinctively turning toward the door. But then she thought of Chelsea—Chelsea hurt, Chelsea all alone and scared in the mountains, and her jaw tightened.

“Can I help you?”

The voice came from the shadows and she spun to face its owner, startled. Clear blue eyes gazed at her curiously. The young woman stepped closer.

She was in her early twenties and lovely, with blond curls spilling about her bare shoulders and brown, tanned legs fully revealed by the minuscule sunsuit she wore. Kendall suddenly felt hot and overdressed in her canvas slacks and silk camp shirt.

“I’m looking for Brett Carrington,” she said, forcing a smile. “But if he’s busy...” She gestured vaguely toward upstairs, from where the sounds of roughhousing were loud and clear.

“Busy?” The blue eyes laughed. “Oh, he’s not busy. He’s just teasing Anne.” She winced at the sound of another crash from above, then grinned, holding out a well-manicured hand. “I’m Sandi,” she announced as the two women firmly shook hands. “Come on in, won’t you? I’ll call him.”

Kendall took a few steps in the direction Sandi had indicated, finding herself looking in on a comfortable living room, and then out through the house into the back yard where another girl lay tummy down, sunning herself on a chaise lounge. Her blond hair was pinned haphazardly to the top of her head, just keeping it out of the way. From where Kendall stood, she looked topless. One man and three attractive and scantily dressed women? Kendall bit her lip and turned back to see Sandi approaching the stairs, calling, “Brett, get down here. Company!”

“Just a minute,” the deep male voice answered. “I’ve got to teach Anne a lesson she won’t forget.”

More shrieks, dissolving in laughter.

“Does he really live here?” Kendall couldn’t help but ask when Sandi turned back.

“Oh yes,” she said, nodding. “We all do.”

“Oh.” This was either a sorority house with Brett Carrington as housemother, or...

“He’ll be with you in a second,” Sandi said. “Make yourself at home. I’m in the middle of brewing a love potion in the kitchen. Excuse me, won’t you?”

“Sure.”

A love potion? Kendall sank warily into an armchair as the young woman disappeared. Strange house. Strange people.

A clatter at the top of the stairs drew her attention. From where she sat, she could only see a portion of what made the noise. Two artfully tooled, but well-worn boots came into view, then the legs of jeans bleached pale blue through wear and exposure to the elements.

Two more steps and the legs paused. “I’ll finish with you later,” the deep male voice teased with mock threat.

But Kendall hardly heard him. She could see everything up to his armpits now, and what she saw was so blatantly, aggressively male, she found herself backing up in her seat and balling her hands into fists in her lap.

The hips were tight and muscular, and the wide belt low on his waist had a brass buckle with the picture of a snake and the early colonies saying “Don’t Tread on Me” emblazoned on it. He was just pulling on a shirt and Kendall had a brief flash of dark, curling hair over smooth, golden flesh before the blue-green shirt covered it all.

Kendall swallowed hard, furious at herself. It had been a long time since a man had been able to ruffle her carefully cultivated composure. She wasn’t going to let this one get to her now.

The full man swung into view, and she was surprised by his face. Far from the bleary, leering macho man she’d expected, Brett Carrington looked intelligent and aware, with more than a little humor flashing behind his brilliant blue gaze. His straight blond hair lay flat, his nose was high and arched, his mouth wide and full. Handsome. Definitely. With a spark that told her at once that he liked women, liked them a lot.

Her impulse was to rise to greet him, but she controlled it, staying where she was seated and nodding coolly. “Mr. Carrington? I’m Kendall MacKenzie. Ernie Hart said he would call and tell you about my problem.”

He stopped a few feet away, his long fingers still buttoning the last buttons on his shirt, his dark blue eyes assessing her casually. “He called,” he said quietly.

Kendall licked her lips when he didn’t go on. The man was obviously in no mood to make things easy for her. But that was fine, just fine. “Did he tell you what I would be needing you for?”

He nodded. “Yes, he told me. He said one of your animals got loose.”

“Yes, that’s it. You see...”

But he wasn’t listening. Eyes narrowing, he went on as though she hadn’t begun to speak. “So you’re the lady who’s bent on turning our California wilderness into a zoo.”

Kendall took in a long breath but held his gaze steadily. This was just another example of the provincial attitude she’d encountered everywhere ever since she’d begun moving her animals in three weeks before.

“I am not constructing a zoo.” She spoke slowly, enunciating her words as though talking to a kindergarten child. “Mountain Shelter is a wildlife way station. It is for animals who have been badly treated and need a place where they can recuperate before we find new homes for them.”

One corner of his mouth turned down in a graphic representation of his opinion of that. “Animals do best when they are left alone in their own environment,” he said shortly. “Every time man gets involved, he only makes things worse.”

Kendall’s shoulders rose and fell in a quick shrug. What was the use? She would never convert a diehard like this. But in the meantime, she needed his services.

Raising her clear eyes to his, she went on as though he hadn’t said a word against her. “I’ve been bringing animals in for three weeks now. One of my employees was bringing in a load today, but the truck had an accident near Five Mile Road and one of the cages broke open. A mountain lion escaped.”

“Good for him,” the man murmured.

Kendall kept her composure with difficulty. “Chelsea has never lived in the wild,” she said. “She was born in captivity and has only been loose once before. She didn’t do well out there. I don’t want her hurt again. I’ve got to find her right away.” She paused, but he didn’t react. “I was told you were the best. And that’s what I need. I want to find her as quickly as possible.”

He didn’t smile. His gaze was coldly analytical as he leaned back against the doorjamb, studying her. “You sound like a woman who’s used to getting what she wants, when she wants it,” he said softly. “Let me warn you, Ms. MacKenzie, I may take suggestions now and again, but I don’t ever take orders.”

Despite the flare of hot anger she felt at his words she forced her own gaze to appear as frosty as his. “Spare me the macho act,” she said evenly. “Will you do it or won’t you?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

She tapped her foot impatiently against the floor, knowing he was being obstinate on purpose, knowing he wanted to get her goat, and unable to stop exactly that from happening. “How long does it usually take for you to make up your mind?”

He shrugged casually, a move guaranteed to provoke her. He knew it. She knew it. And yet she couldn’t stop herself from reacting just as he’d planned for her to.

“You seem to be able to make up your mind on other things a lot more quickly. Sometimes with no evidence at all—such as deciding I was building a zoo.”

He pulled himself away from the wall and sank into a chair across from where she was sitting. He actually had the gall to look pleased that she was angry.

“I’ll tell you how I see that issue,” he offered. “You bought up a good bunch of wilderness land. You started building cages, digging moats, leveling pathways. You brought in a whole lot of animals who don’t belong in these hills. Hell, some of them don’t even belong on this continent.” He leaned toward her. “It looks like a zoo. It sounds like a zoo. It smells like a zoo.” He shrugged. “In my book, it’s a zoo, where wilderness ought to be.”

Her face was flushing. “I suppose you’d rather we just shot them all and stuck their heads up as trophies on the wall.”

He shook his head. “Not really. I don’t hunt for that kind of trophy anymore.”

“Oh? And just what sort of trophy do you hunt for?” She knew even as the words were leaving her mouth that saying them was a big mistake but this infuriating man seemed to have a knack for making her say things she would never say in saner moments. “I suppose these women that you live with are trophies to you,” she blurted out, then lifted her chin to show she didn’t care if she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

At least she’d finally found a weapon that hit home. His face registered surprise, but then he started to laugh. “Trophies! Wouldn’t they love to be called that?”

“You can call them whatever you want.” She was on a roll now. “Everyone knows what they are. And what you are for having them here.”

Her real outrage sprang from his activities during his bounty hunting days, but somehow the expression of that disgust came out this way instead. She wasn’t really a prude and didn’t want to come off sounding like one, but it was too late now.

Never mind. At least he knew where he stood with her.

She braced herself for his anger, but to her surprise, he merely grinned at her and leaned back in his chair, those blue eyes still penetrating. “Well, now that we’ve established just what you think of me,” he drawled, “I’d like a turn.”

She nodded impatiently, wanting to get on with things. Let him have at her. Then maybe they could get down to the business of finding Chelsea.

“I know you’re rich,” he said, his voice soft but only barely concealing a dangerously sharp edge. “I know you’re a young widow. Those two facts, along with your looks, make you a prize any man in his right mind would think twice about before passing up. And I know that you’re on guard against exactly that.”

Kendall flushed. There were few people bold— and ill-mannered enough—to put it so bluntly. But she knew it was what everyone thought.

He wasn’t finished. “But you don’t have to worry about me, Ms. MacKenzie. I don’t hunt for that kind of trophy either.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry and she licked her lips but didn’t say a word.

“Okay. I say exactly what I think, right up front. I don’t hold anything back. I don’t play games. And here’s what I think about you.” His gaze narrowed and his voice lowered. “You’re a beautiful woman, with those huge violet eyes and that silky black hair. Oh, I know you’ve got it pinned back real tight, going for the businesslike look, trying to preserve a bit of credibility here. But it isn’t too difficult to imagine what it looks like loose, in a tangle of midnight blue against that creamy white skin.”

Kendall’s heart was beating very fast, and she was having a hard time concealing that her breath was coming in short little gasps. The man still sat four feet away from her but his voice was so low and insinuating, she almost felt as though he were right beside her, touching her as he spoke.

“I know what you look like,” he went on, “what you could do to a man if you wanted to.” He paused, his gaze lingering first on her parted lips, then on the soft swell of her full breasts. His mouth curled cynically. “So there you had this rich old man in the palm of your hand. He doted on you. Set you up as his beautiful child bride. Gave you everything your little heart desired.”

His voice hardened.

“You’re a spoiled, willful woman, Kendall MacKenzie. You’ve never grown up. You still think you can stamp your cute little foot and get your way. You’ve had what you wanted all your life, and now you want your own zoo. You want all those cute and cuddly little animals at your beck and call.” He rose as though dismissing her. “It’s wrong, lady. And I’m going to fight against you all the way. No matter how much you bat those beautiful eyes at me.”

Blind rage swept through her and she reached for something to throw at the man. How dare he! All she had done since she’d walked into his house was act cool and distant and let him know she despised his old profession, and he talked about batting her eyes! She wanted to kill him.

But before she could find a blunt instrument to do it with, he turned on his heel, changing the subject. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get back to the matter at hand,” he drawled, walking toward the tall gun cabinet at the end of the room. “So you’ve got a little old puma running wild.” He turned a brass key in the lock. Reaching in, he pulled out a Winchester and broke it open, checking the barrel. “I guess I could go out and find her for you.”

Still seething, Kendall shot up out of her chair. “Not with that, you don’t.” She came up behind him and stared in horror at the weapon.

He snapped the rifle back into place and glanced at her. “You want me, you got me the way I come. I don’t ever go up there without this.” He slapped the butt of the rifle, his gesture as much affectionate as defiant.

Words tripped to the edge of her tongue, but Kendall bit them back. She could see by the steely look in his eyes that it would be useless to argue. If she told him not to bring the rifle, he wouldn’t cooperate. There was only one remedy for that. She was going to have to go along too, to make sure he didn’t use it.

“Let’s go,” she said abruptly. “I’ll show you where the accident happened, and we can go on from there.”

He turned his head and looked down at her and she realized she’d come up much too close. But it was too late to move now. She knew he would see it as a retreat, and this was going to be one long war between the two of them. No use giving up any ground yet.

“I work alone,” he said simply, his deep blue eyes smoky and sure.

Awareness of him was making her dizzy.

“That’s just fine,” she answered, masking her reaction with a sharp tone. “I promise not to get in your way.”

His mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “No, you don’t understand,” he said. “You’re not coming with me.”

This was it. The line was being drawn. Her gaze flickered over the rifle. She knew she would have to give way on that one. But she had to go along. She couldn’t have this wild man alone up there in the hills with her Chelsea. It was time to call his bluff and see who won the pot.

She drew up to her full height and held his gaze with her own. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” she said crisply. “I’m going after my mountain lion. I’ve asked you to go along. I’d like to have you. I could use your expertise. But I can get along without it if I have to.” She shrugged and turned away, starting for the door. “Sorry to have taken up your time,” she said, striding purposefully. “I can find my own way out.”