“Hey!” He beat her to the doorway effortlessly, blocking it with his wide shoulders. Laughter lit his eyes. “Okay, you win,” he said. “You can come along.” He shrugged, his grin widening suggestively. “I guess you can tell I’m a pushover for a pretty face.”

Her “pretty face” had had nothing to do with this victory, and they both knew it. But she could afford to be magnanimous. She’d won. So she merely smiled, her direct gaze meeting his without a quiver.

“I’ll have to remember that,” she said dryly. “Shall we go?”

The sound of a sliding screen door opening caught their attention and they turned to see the blond girl who had been sunbathing outside coming in. Close up, she barely looked fourteen. The bikini she wore was negligible, but her body was so slim and young, it hardly seemed necessary anyway.

That was Kendall’s quick impression, but Brett Carrington obviously had another reaction. One glance at the girl and his smile evaporated.

“Get some clothes on,” he said sharply. “Can’t you see that we have company?”

The girl blinked at them, still blinded by the change in light from outdoors to inside, and her pretty face turned petulant. She glanced at Kendall, then glared at Brett. “Sorry,” she said with absolutely no conviction and started through the room.

Brett grabbed her arm, turning her back. “There’s no need to be rude,” he said, then sighed with more exasperation than anger. “This is my baby sister Danielle,” he offered as explanation. Humor glinted in his eyes as he looked at Kendall. “One of my many trophies,” he reminded her.

His sister. She should have known. She could see the resemblance around the eyes and mouth. “Hello Danielle.” She held out her hand and the girl took it limply. “I’m Kendall MacKenzie.”

The girl turned questioningly toward her brother.

“The woman who’s starting that new wildlife refuge up at Mountain Acres,” he said gruffly in explanation.

“Oh.” Danielle looked from one to the other. “Brett just hates the idea of that wildlife center,” she said slowly. She threw a challenging look at her brother. “I’ve been thinking of coming over and seeing if I could get a job with you.”

Kendall smiled. “I wish you would. We have plenty of openings, especially for part-time workers.”

“I could work part-time in the afternoons.”

“Wonderful. Come by tomorrow after school and we’ll talk.”

The girl’s whole face had changed. Petulance had been replaced by a radiance that made her lovely to look at. Her smile of triumph was meant strictly for her brother, and his scowl was her reward.

“I’ll do that,” she said.

She left the room and Kendall half expected Brett to say something about not hiring her at the shelter, but he didn’t say a word. The two of them started for the door.

“Sandi,” he called toward the kitchen. “I’m going out.”

The pretty young woman who had originally met Kendall when she first arrived, poked her head out around the kitchen door. “Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“Doubtful.”

A teapot whistled in the kitchen and Sandi disappeared, with a small shriek, to take care of it.

“Another sister?” Kendall asked with a sigh as they made their way toward the front door.

“Yup.” He pulled open the door, smirking at her.

“Bye Brett,” came Anne’s voice from upstairs. “I’m going to double-sheet your bed while you’re gone.”

“You do and I’ll put earthworms in your bath water,” he called back. “Just like I did before.”

A squeal of repugnance was his answer. Kendall didn’t say a word. She merely cocked her head toward upstairs questioningly.

“Another one,” he agreed cheerfully. “I’ve got them all over the place.”

“Three sisters,” she murmured, shoulders sagging as they walked across the porch and started down the steps.

“Four,” he corrected. “Julie is married and living in Alaska.”

Eating crow wasn’t pleasant, but Kendall was no coward. “I’m sorry I implied they were...” Words failed her and she shrugged helplessly.

“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s a wonderful idea. I don’t know why I never thought of it myself.” His teeth flashed as he grinned. “Just as soon as this lot moves out, I’ll get to work on replacing them with those ‘trophies’ you seem to know so much about.”

“You do that,” she said.

“I just might.” He looked at her as he opened the door to his car and held it for her while she got in. “I don’t suppose you’d consider….?”

She glared up at him and he grinned.

“No, I didn’t think so.”

The sky was powder blue, the mountains shades of moss green and lavender, with a splash of brilliant orange here and there where California poppies still bloomed. The air seemed soft, hushed. Only the scraping of their boots on the sandstone trail broke the wilderness silence.

Brett scanned the horizon, then looked back at Kendall. She was lagging behind again. He held back a sigh of annoyance as he stopped and leaned against a boulder to wait for her. Didn’t the woman realize how much more quickly he could do this if he were by himself? Didn’t she know she was holding him back?

It wouldn’t take much to leave her. He knew he could be out of sight in seconds. She’d never catch up. And then she would have to admit defeat and go back to where they’d parked the car to wait for him.

For just a moment he was tempted, but then he discarded the idea. The premise was all wrong, he realized as he watched her coming up the trail toward him. She wouldn’t give up at all. She’d climb all over these hills and get herself thoroughly lost and then he would have to go looking for her... No, it was no use. He was stuck with her.

She slipped on loose rocks and he tensed, ready to go to her aid, but she caught herself and her shoulders squared in a way that told him she would have resented it if he’d come running down the trail to save her.

The tightness around his mouth eased as he watched her. The one advantage was that she certainly was easy on the eyes. Her Australian bush hat was jammed down low so not much of her face was visible. But he did like the way her rounded form filled out her starched khaki jeans and shirt, and most especially the way those little button-down pockets sat right over her breasts.

Things stirred down where things like that tended to stir, but that wasn’t unusual for him. He was a man who liked women. And not only as sex objects either. He enjoyed women, enjoyed their emotionalism, their sensitivity, their tenderness. He realized most people didn’t think of him that way. Around Sweet Willow he was thought of as a man’s man. The fact that he lived with all those sisters was attributed to his generous nature. People didn’t seem to understand that he did it because he just plain liked being around women.

“Sit down and rest,” he told her as she reached his waiting point.

Her violet eyes flashed. “I can go on,” she said stubbornly.

“I’m sure you can.” There was a fat bead of sweat rolling down her pink cheek from her temple. Before she could stop him, he’d reached out and caught it with his index finger. She shook her head to keep him away, and he grinned.

“I’m sure you can,” he repeated. “But I can’t. We’ll stay here for five minutes to make sure we’re thoroughly rested before we move on. We’ll make better time in the long run if we’re fit.”

She didn’t argue. Carefully, she lowered her backpack to rest on a large rock and released it, then stood, flexing her shoulders, and dropped to sit on another handy rock. Pulling off her hat, she leaned back and let the breeze cool her reddened face.

“Here.” He splashed some water from his canteen onto a red handkerchief and reached out to dab it on her face.

Flashing him a quick look, she avoided his gesture, taking the cloth from him without a word and doing the dabbing herself. As he watched, she half-closed her eyes while she cooled her cheeks, her neck, and then unbuttoned the top button on her shirt to reach the moisture down over her chest. Looking up, she caught the way he was looking at her, but she didn’t make a move to reclose the button. Instead, she handed back the handkerchief.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Thank you,” he wanted to say, but he held it back and merely buried his face in the handkerchief, cooling his skin as well as his libido.

Too bad she was a widow with that ‘don’t touch me’ look still in her eyes. Too bad that look only served to challenge him, no matter how much he tried to rein it in. Too bad for both of them—the woman appealed to him strongly and he was pretty sure this day would not go by without his acting on that appeal.

He’d tried to get her to stay behind. She’d taken him to see the crash site and there had been plenty of evidence he was able to use to make a good guess as to which way the mountain lion had run. He’d warned her it could be a long search but she’d just looked at him with that wide-eyed stare and he’d gone into the station and packed two backpacks and pulled out two sleeping bags while she’d changed into khakis. And here they were.

He looked up and his quick eye caught movement at some distance. “Red-tailed hawk,” he said shortly, pointing out toward the distant hills.

She looked quickly and nodded, watching the majestic bird swoop and soar until it was out of sight.

“How do we know we’re on the right track?” she asked abruptly, turning to fix him with her serious stare. “Do you actually know where we’re going, or are we just wandering around hoping for a bit of luck?”

He took his time answering, rubbing the back of his neck with the wet cloth. He was surprised she’d questioned his expertise, but not affronted.

“Don’t you worry,” he said at last. “We’ll have your animal by nightfall.”

She turned more fully toward him. “I’d like to believe that,” she said shortly. “But I haven’t seen any evidence that you’re doing anything other than taking me on a pleasant afternoon hike.”

She licked her lips, studying his reaction to her charges.

“I showed you the blood where the accident occurred. You charged off in this direction, and I haven’t seen a thing since. How do you know?” she asked again.

His smile was slow and sure. “I think like an animal,” he said softly. “I feel like an animal. Instinct tells me what direction your puma would take.” He shrugged. “We went that way. There’ve been plenty of signs that tell me I’m right.”

“Really?” Her voice was skeptical. “I haven’t noticed any of these signs.”

“I guess I see things that you don’t.”

“Like what?”

He rose slowly and sauntered down the trail a few feet, then used his boot to push aside a bit of scrub brush, revealing a small mound of half-buried fecal matter.

“Puma,” he drawled. “About three hours old.” He let the brush fall back and returned to his seat on the rock. “Now I cannot guarantee that it was your puma,” he said. “But I’d lay odds it was.”

“Have you seen any more blood?” she asked.

He turned to look at her. “A little,” he said at last. “But not enough to worry about.”

He didn’t tell her the rest—that the animal they were following was moving farther faster than it would under normal circumstances—that it was either badly hurt or unusually frightened of something.

She was fighting hard to remain calm. He could see that. She seemed awfully attached to that mountain lion. That puzzled him a little. A beautiful woman like that—why didn’t she have children or a boyfriend or something else to be concerned about? He only hoped they found her animal in good shape. Anything else would hit her hard, if he was any judge of character. It was time to move on, but he gave her another moment.

She knew he was doing it, and she appreciated the gesture. He rose and stretched, and she watched him stretch out of the corner of her eye. She’d seen that body half naked at the house and her memory was just fine. He moved with a sure, fluid animal grace that made her catch her breath and hold it. He did everything that way: walking, running, climbing. She was certain it was the same when he made love to a woman—sure and smooth and flowing—and her cheeks turned bright red as she jammed the hat back down on her head, hoping to hide them.

“Let’s go,” Brett said abruptly. And they were off again.

It was hot. Lines of sweat rolled down Kendall’s spine, making her squirm as she walked. The straps of the pack dug into her shoulders. They were higher now, following a winding trail up the steep side of a mountain. Very close was a drop-off to jagged rocks below. She was stepping carefully, trying not to look down, avoiding nightmare thoughts of what a fall would do to her.

The going was rough, and she was beginning to tire. She could read the impatience in his eyes whenever he looked back. She knew he wished she hadn’t come along. But she had to be there when Chelsea was found. Brett Carrington was a good tracker and attractive as all get-out, but she didn’t trust him. Not with that Winchester strapped to his pack.

“Need to rest?” he called back.

Her muscles cried out for it but she couldn’t stop. “No,” she returned, pushing her hat back on her head. And that was when she saw the movement on the ridge above them.

“Chelsea?” she cried out. The tan fur vanished but Kendall was sure. “Chelsea! I think it’s Chelsea.”

Without thinking, she began to scramble up the side of the cliff face, her feet sliding on the loose rocks.

“Don’t go that way,” Brett shouted. “It’s a slide.”

But it was too late. The rough mix of soil, plants and rock beneath her had been settled at an angle of repose. Her body weight changed that dramatically. She lost her balance, falling heavily against the ground, and the whole area began to churn down the side of the mountain with Kendall clawing for a handhold, anything to stop her cascading fall.

Brett was yelling something but she didn’t know what it was. She had dirt in her mouth, her eyes. Rocks were everywhere and she seemed to bounce from one to another. She was being swept along in a huge wave that roared in her ears.

And then Brett had her. His strong arms seemed to pluck her from disaster and she turned, clinging to him, her hands twisting in the cloth of his shirt.

“Oh!” she gasped, holding onto him as though to let go was to be swept away again.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, pulling her back onto solid ground. “Anything broken?”

She was still gasping for clean air. “I don’t think so.” She felt his hands on her legs, her arms, and though she felt bruised, nothing screamed in sudden pain at his touch. “I don’t think so,” she said again, shaking her head.

Her backpack had been ripped away, her clothes torn. She could imagine what her face looked like, but right now that hardly seemed important. She couldn’t see anything. Her eyes were clogged with dirt. She resisted the urge to rub them, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Cry,” he commanded roughly. He was sitting on the ground now, holding her.

She groped about to face him and tried to blink her dirt-crusted eyes. “What?”

“Cry,” he said again. “It’s the best way to clean out your eyes.”

He took a deep breath. “Come on, Kendall. You’ve just had a brush with death. Go ahead and cry about it.”

But she couldn’t cry. She never cried. She hadn’t cried when Gerald had died, and she knew she wouldn’t cry now.

He held her across his lap and splashed water from his canteen on her face. She sputtered, struggling, but then he was wiping away the dirt with his handkerchief and she went very quiet, letting his gentle touch soothe her.

“That was frightening,” she said at last, and her voice sounded like gravel.

“Yup,” he said shortly, concentrating hard on cleaning up her face.

She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “I’m okay.” Her eyes were clear, though they felt burned, sandy. The quick terror had passed and she was slightly embarrassed. “I can get up now.”

He pulled away and sat back, letting her find her footing on her own. She stood and began to pull her clothes together, knowing he’d seen more than she’d wanted him to, but his face was utterly blank and she couldn’t read a reaction there. A couple of buttons were missing and a jagged three-corner rip had ruined the shirt. She tied the tails into a knot over her stomach and pulled it tight, as though to deny any exploration of her private self.

Suddenly she remembered what had brought on her headlong rush up the mountain. “Chelsea.” She looked up at the ridge again.

“It wasn’t your puma,” he said flatly. “I saw it before you did. It was just a marten.”

She turned to stare at him, disappointed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He brushed dirt off a flat rock. “Here. Sit down. You need more rest before we can go on.”

“I’m all right.” But she sat where he told her to, and she had to admit, her legs were shaking. “I suppose you see this as justification for your opinion that I shouldn’t have come along.”

His eyes widened with pretended innocence. “Who, me? I didn’t say a word.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Your thoughts ring loud and clear.”

“Do they?” His slight smile was sardonic as he glanced quickly at her lips, the tight knot that held her shirt closed. “Then I’m in big trouble,” he murmured.

She almost laughed, he looked so forlorn. But laughing would bring them closer together. She knew that instinctively. And she didn’t want that. “Thank you,” she said instead, her voice stiff with the effort of formality. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Any time.”

“I’ll do the same for you some time,” she said quickly, then flushed as he grinned his skepticism to that idea. “I will,” she insisted. “If I get the opportunity.”

He shrugged. “I hope you don’t expect me to try to provide you with one,” he said dryly. “I generally try to keep away from danger.”

“So do I,” she whispered, then stood, testing her legs. “Shall we get going?”

He came up beside her, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her arm. “Do you think...?”

“Yes,” she snapped, pulling away from his touch. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

As they began to trudge up the trail, she risked one quick look down the mountain to where her backpack had ended up, a couple of hundred feet down among jagged rocks. That could have been her, she realized. It made her breath come a little faster.

But the going was easier without the heavy load on her back. She was stiff from the fall. Brett found a long, strong branch that he quickly fashioned into a walking stick for her, and though she resisted it at first, she quickly found it did make walking a lot smoother.

They made their way down off the steep slope and into a high valley crowded with black oaks and coarse grasses. The sun was threatening to disappear behind the western range. She watched the back of Brett’s head and wondered how much longer this would take. He hadn’t wanted to make any predictions when they started out, though he had warned her it could be overnight. And now her sleeping bag was at the bottom of a cliff. Great.

But it would all be worth it if they could find Chelsea unharmed. She couldn’t have explained just why Chelsea was so important to her, but the fact was, the animal meant everything right now. She was the only family Kendall had. Or would ever have.

She’d dreamed of having a family once. She’d married Gerald with high hopes. Even though he was much older than she, she’d expected he would want children. But it was soon obvious that children were something he didn’t want at all. She shuddered, casting away memories.

“What time do you think it will get dark?” she called up to Brett.

He only half-turned toward her. “Two more hours,” he said. “Time to rest.”

He stopped abruptly and dropped his backpack to the ground. She stopped too, swaying a bit and hoping he didn’t notice. She was more tired than she’d ever been before in her life. Her feet felt like lead, her arms like bloated things. She sank to the ground, her legs sprawling.

“Here you go.” He came to her with the wet handkerchief again, and this time she was too tired to resist. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and let him dab her face and her neck. It felt heavenly, cool and comforting. She didn’t even move when she felt him pushing aside the collar of her shirt. But suddenly his lips were on her skin, warm and exciting, and she gasped and jerked away.

“Sorry,” he said calmly, pouring more water onto the handkerchief as though nothing much had happened. “Your neck just looked so delicious, I had to taste it.”

She glared at him, outraged, clutching the spot where he’d been as though to wipe away the feel of him. “What did you do that for? You don’t even like me.”

He laughed aloud. “Honey, ‘liking’ has nothing to do with it.”

Her cheeks were flushing again. She’d done more blushing in one day with this man than she’d ever done before.

“Wonderful,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She pulled her legs up into a crossed position and grabbed hold of her walking stick again, as if to protect herself with it. “I’m supposed to be flattered?”

“I couldn’t care less whether or not you’re flattered,” he told her, his blue eyes frankly admiring her. “More to the point, are you interested?”

Words failed her. He was asking point-blank if she wanted to sleep with him, wasn’t he? She was sure she had done nothing, absolutely nothing, to give him signals that she might be available. She counted on that, her stern exterior, to let men know she was closed to that sort of thing. It made her furious to think her barriers had failed.

“You go after women like you go after game, don’t you?” she challenged him, her hand tightening on her stick. “With a loaded gun and a lust for the kill.”

Brett’s face hardened. “Listen, Ms. Kendall MacKenzie,” he said evenly. “I’ve never killed for pleasure. I don’t enjoy watching anything die.”

She drew in her breath sharply. His tone was like a slap in the face. But she wouldn’t back all the way down. “It’s quite apparent what you do enjoy.”

He grimaced, narrowing his eyes as he stared at her. “Is it? Somehow I didn’t think you were getting the message.”

He was sitting on the ground, his weight on his right arm which was stretched out behind him. Kendall’s eyes were drawn to movement by his hand. For just a second she looked at it, trying to puzzle out what it was, and then she saw it clearly as it raised its head preparing to strike. She’d seen rattlesnakes before. This one was only inches from Brett’s hand, its reptilian neck arched, its poisonous fangs ready. Without conscious thought, reacting only to raw instinct, she lashed out with the walking stick. A primitive yell exploded from her chest at the same moment, and she hit the thing with all her might, leaping to her feet as she did it, stunning the snake back against the ground.

Brett had his knife out so quickly she hardly saw what he was doing. In seconds he dispatched the poor snake and threw its remnants into a nearby patch of manzanita. Then he turned to look at her.

“My God,” he said softly. “I thought you were hitting me with that thing.”

She wanted to laugh. It was funny, really. She’d never done anything so completely without conscious reason before in her life. She’d acted purely on instinct. And it had turned out right. How strange. How magical.

Brett was frowning at the brush around them. “I don’t know how I missed seeing him,” he grumbled. “I don’t usually miss things like that.”

“Too busy kissing necks, I guess,” she said smugly, but the sharpness was gone from her voice. “Just a little reminder to keep your mind on your work.”

He grinned at her, his gaze newly appreciative. He still could hardly believe she’d taken such a decisive action and done so well at it. “We’re even now,” he told her. “That wipes the slate clean.”

She was proud of what she’d done. She felt good about it. But that didn’t mean she was ready to be buddies.

“No it doesn’t,” she told him. “I hired you, so whatever you did was in the line of duty.” She smiled, mischief in her eyes. “When I saved you, it was an act of human charity. You now owe me.”

He shook his head, his gaze steady on her. “How is it that, no matter how we mess around with the equations, you always end up with the winning number?” he asked. “Why is that?”

“I guess I was born under a lucky star,” she said.

“I guess so.”

He was too close to her again. How had this happened? The laughter faded from his eyes and something clouded and unreadable took its place. Kendall looked away quickly, squaring her shoulders.

“Shouldn’t we be getting on?” she asked, her voice reflecting her uneasiness. “I mean, it’s going to be dark soon...”

He lifted his hand and reached toward her. This time she didn’t flinch away, but he was merely taking a dried leaf from her hair. Stepping back, he looked up into the mountainside.

“We’re there,” he told her. “Unless I miss my guess, your puma is up there. See that patch of lupine?” He pointed it out to her. “Right behind that is a whole series of water erosion caves. I’m going to check them out. You stay here.”

“No!”

“Kendall, get real.” He stopped and followed her line of vision to the rifle strapped to his pack. He sighed. “Okay.” Reaching back he loosened the weapon and placed it carefully on the ground. “I’ll leave it here. Will that make you happy?”

She was tired, and she knew she wasn’t up to an exploratory hike at this point. “Yes,” she said wearily. “Just promise me you won’t hurt her.”

Something flashed across his handsome face. “I won’t hurt her,” he said curtly. And then he was off, climbing quickly through the rocks and scrub brush until he was out of sight.

Kendall felt all her energy drain out, and she sank to the ground. She’d been through a lot already, and the day wasn’t over yet. Her bruises hurt. As time passed, more and more aches were cropping up to nag at her. She didn’t want to complain to Brett about them. She wasn’t sure what was making her more tired, the exhausting hike, or the rampaging emotions.

She wasn’t used to these ups and downs. She’d been living a life determinedly on an even keel for the last few years. Her emotions were reserved for her animals. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to feel anything—even anger—for a man.

People always told her to watch out, that wild animals could hurt her. They didn’t know what “hurt” was. Sure, animals could inflict physical damage. But when it came to real pain, emotional pain, only humans really knew how to turn the knife in a wound.

Now she was stuck up here in the mountains with this macho man, this Brett Carrington. Fate was hardly kind. She’d needed a tracker to help her find Chelsea, but why couldn’t he have turned out to be a little old balding man or one of those dirty, ragged, laconic wilderness types with absolutely no sex appeal. Instead—Brett. He was too darn attractive.

She was pretty sure she could handle that, though. She was cool, calm and collected. She’d decided long ago that passion would never be her downfall. She’d seen how it could destroy people. She’d seen it destroy Gerald. If she’d let it, if she’d really loved her husband the way she’d thought she would when she married him, it might have destroyed her too.

The sound of rocks falling first signaled Brett’s return. By the time Kendall looked up, there he was, his face closed and unreadable.

Kendall sprang to her feet. “Did you find her?”

He nodded. “Yes, I found her.”

Kendall laughed aloud with relief. “Can we signal them now? Will they come get her? How did she look? Was she hurt in any way?”

Brett hesitated, then shrugged out of his pack before he spoke. “Something’s happened, Kendall,” he said quietly. “Chelsea...” He shook his head. “I think you’d better come and see for yourself.”

Kendall’s face fell. She didn’t ask any more questions. “Which way?” was all she said, and then the climb to Chelsea’s cave began.