It took thirty cold, horrifyingly embarrassing minutes for Lacey and her escorts to reach the Martins' house. The deputies spent the entire ride sniggering at her, and it didn’t help matters that Matthew Brady seemed to be ignoring her. The man was making her look like a spurned lover.

He’d deposited her on the Martins’ front porch, then, without a single word—or threat of repercussion—ridden off with his deputies toward Fairhaven and left her on the porch to simmer.

The only thing that kept Lacy from chasing after him was the chill in her bone she still felt from her dunk in the icy lake, and the fear of getting lost in the woods again. So, she stood there, frustrated, and watched him ride off without her.

The front door of the house flew open and Hazel burst out onto the porch. "Oh, my dear!" she shouted. “We’ve been so worried!” She took one look at Lacy and knew something was wrong. “What happened?”

Lacey was surprised to feel tears burn her eyes. “I fell in a lake.”

“Oh, goodness!” Hazel marched forward and pulled Lacey into her arms.

Lacey struggled to hold back a sob. She was clearly still not herself after her ordeal.

“All you all right?” Hazel questioned. She put her arm around Lacey’s shoulders. “Come on in the house and let’s get ya warmed up. Red,” she called to Lacey’s horse, “inta the barn with ya.”

With a faint whinny, the animal ambled off, and Lacey let Hazel lead her across the porch and in through the front door.

* * *

Two hours later, Lacey was fresh out of a hot bath and wearing the red dress Hazel had bought for her at Nettie’s boutique the day before. Warm once again, she sat curled up in the big leather chair by the fire, a quilt bundled around her and a mug of hot coffee in her hands. Hazel was sitting across from her on the sofa knitting socks.

The woman was a matriarchal wonder. She hadn’t asked Lacey a single question about the lake incident, not even to chastise her about trying to ride to Fairhaven on her own. Hazel wasn’t interested in being judgmental, she was interested in being kind. She’d cooed and fussed, determined to make Her guest comfortable, and Lacey couldn’t help but wonder how different her life might have been had someone like Hazel Martin been in it from the very beginning.

With a the hot fire popping in the hearth, Lacey sipped her coffee and watched Hazel work her long knitting needles. “Your children are very lucky people,” Lacey said.

Hazel's head popped up. "What was that, honey?"

“Your children are lucky to have you and George for parents."

"Oh.” Hazel gave her a sad smile. “George and I were never blessed."

Lacey frowned. "You don't have any children?"

"Not a one."

Lacey had assumed the two of them had a horde of kids that had all grown up and moved away.

“We always hoped, but a little miracle never came our way."

This was the epitome of injustice. If any two people were meant to be parents it was George and Hazel Martin. What a tragedy for them—and for the children they might have had. To think, people like Shirley Guarder were popping out babies left and right.

"It used to bother us," Hazel said. "But George and I left all our tears behind when we moved here from Chicago."

“You’re from Chicago?" Lacey repeated. She seemed to remember someone mentioning Chicago to her recently…

"Chicago, Illinois. That's where George and I are from. We came out to Washington Territory in '76 to get a taste of the good life. Fresh mountain air, wide open fields, forests so thick ya can’t see tomorrow. Men were bein’ recruited from all over the country to come out and fell trees for the mills. Somebody was gonna have to feed all those big strappin' lumberjacks, so we figured why not us? We sold our house and restaurant back east and headed west."

Lacey stared at her, astounded. “You left a restaurant in Chicago to start over here?"

Hazel laughed. “Well, here’s a pretty wonderful place. And startin’ over isn’t so hard. It does the heart good to build somethin' out of nothin’. As long as George and I have each other, we can do anything.”

Lacey certainly knew about starting over. She’d been forced to start a new life so many times she’d lost count. And it had never been fun. But then, unlike Hazel, she’d never had anybody to share the adventure with. She’d been alone her entire life, and that had never bothered her…until now.

"You sure you're not hungry?" Hazel asked for the second time in ten minutes.

Lunch had come and gone, but Lacey doubted she could keep anything down but coffee. "I'm fine. Really."

Hazel went back to her knitting, and Lacey sighed and stared into the fire. It had been a crazy morning, and she felt incredibly tired, but every time she closed her eyes Matthew Brady's handsome face appeared, and any hope of sleep she had went south for the winter. The situation between the two of them was becoming problematic.

"Now what's that scowl for?" Hazel asked. “Ya look like the whole world just landed on your shoulders."

"It's nothing," Lacey dismissed.

Hazel laughed. "Nothin’ doesn't cut a crease the size of the Grand Canyon between your eyes.” She paused in her knitting. “Come on. Let's have it, before that dark cloud over your head hits you with a bolt of lightnin’.”

Lacey took a deep breath. “The-marshal-tried-to-kiss-me.” She’d spit it out so fast the sentence had sounded like one word.

Hazel blinked in surprise. "He did?"

"I know. It's ridiculous. Don't ask me why he did it. I think the cold weather affected his brain or some—“

“I know why he did it," Hazel cut in. "I'm just a little surprised by the word ‘tried’. He didn’t succeed?”

Now it was Lacey's turn to blink in surprise. “I stopped him, of course.”

Hazel pursed her lips. “Of course.” She continued knitting.

“It’s strange, right? I mean, how desperate has he gotta be to kiss me?”

"Desperate?” Hazel laughed. “Matthew? What's so strange about a man being attracted to ya?”

Lacey shook her head. “He’s not attracted to me.”

“Then why would he try to kiss ya, dear?”

“Because I was…I mean, at the time we were…well…” She gave up. “Never mind.”

“I’m not sure what kinda stories you’ve been tellin’ yourself, honey, but that man is just as attracted to you as you are to him.”

Lacey’s heart nearly stopped beating. “What makes you think I'm attracted to him?"

“Well, for starters, you're awfully interested in his attraction to you."

“That’s only because I want to understand his motivation…so I can avoid any uncomfortable situations between us in the future.”

"That all sounds very sensible. But sensible won't getcha squat in the game a love."

Without meaning to, Lacey burst out laughing. "Love? Hazel, this has absolutely nothing to do with love.”

Hazel arched a brow. “Maybe not yet.”

Lacey sobered instantly. “No. No, not ever.”

Not only was Lacey unreceptive to the emotion, she was incapable of expressing it. Matthew Brady was, admittedly, attractive, and his robust male charms had certainly thawed out her body, but her heart was a completely different story.

Hazel worked her knitting needles and gave her a knowing look. “I knew from the first moment I saw you two together that there was somethin’ between you.”

"Yeah”—Lacey snorted—“his gun.”

“Any man that insistent on learnin’ everything about a woman is definitely interested."

“Hazel, he was interrogating me. That’s a common habit among lawmen. Believe me,” she muttered.

Hazel dismissed that idea. “Nonsense. The man knew the moment he clapped eyes on ya that ya weren't Lorraine Rawlins—every member of that Rawlins family has dark hair and green eyes. No, he was curious about ya from the get go."

“There’s a big difference between curiosity and suspicion.”

"He saved ya from the lake," Hazel pointed out, as if that proved everything.

“So, he’s a decent human being.”

“Person could freeze to death after an experience like that.” Hazel eyes twinkled. “How ever did ya warm up?"

Based on the look on Hazel’s face, Lacey had a strong suspicion that the woman had already formed her own answer to that question. “Science has proven that shared body heat is the best—”

“So he’s saved your life three times now.”

“Three?"

“He pulled you from the lake. Warmed ya up with…science, did you say? And I recall you bein' ablaze a few nights ago.”

Lacey thought about that for a moment. Matthew Brady had come to her rescue an inordinate number of times in the past few days. She supposed she at least owed him a thank you.

"He admires your strength."

She looked up at Hazel in surprise. “I’m…I’m not that strong.”

“You’ve gone toe to toe with a mule-headed lawman several times, and that kinda gumption is a rare thing to find in a young woman."

“All I do is infuriate him."

“Lacey, men aren't like women. They can't hardly tell one emotion from the next. That heart of theirs starts pumpin', that blood of theirs starts rushin', and—bam! No matter the cause, they’re in love."

Lacey laughed. “So now Matthew Brady is in love with me?"

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”

Lacey instantly sobered. “You’re serious.”

Hazel gave her a smug look and went back to knitting socks.

Astonished, Lacey sank deep into the leather chair. Hazel was crazy. The very idea that Matthew Brady felt anything other than contempt for her was ludicrous, especially after she'd spent the past few days baiting and belittling him. The man hated her. He had to.

She closed her eyes and Matthew’s face came to her instantly, every angle and line. She heard his voice in her head, the low, seductive tone, and a little tingle danced over her skin. Matthew Brady was a strong, powerful man, one that insisted on challenging her every move.

But what if their relationship grew into more than just a passing flirtation? How would she protect herself from the vulnerability that inevitably came with caring?

The very idea sent panic racing through Lacey’s body. No, she could never let any tender feelings grow between the two of them. His anger she could deal with, but Matthew Brady’s love was too frightening to even consider.

* * *

Matthew had never been so frustrated in his life. He'd spent the entire day in Fairhaven and come up with nothing. To top it all off, he was beginning to believe that bringing Lacey Guarder along might have made a difference. Lorraine Rawlins was obviously on the lookout for men asking around about her, but he doubted she’d have paid any attention to a woman doing the same—especially one as crafty as Lacey.

He rode into his barn just before sundown, cold and worn out. What he wanted more than anything was a long, hot bath and his soft, warm bed. A dinner party was certainly the very last thing he needed. But he'd told Amanda he’d take her to the Martins’ for dinner, and, after his previous no-show, he couldn’t run the risk of disappointing her again.

He washed up, changed into some clean clothes, and rode into town.

It was the setting sun, glowing crimson and orange over the tree tops that suddenly brought Lacey to mind. Truthfully, she hadn't been far from his thoughts all day. The woman was nothing but trouble, a walking catastrophe. But it was that very quality that seemed to be drawing him to her like a bear to honey.

Once in town, he headed toward the livery and rented a buggy for the night. He guided the two horses down Main Street to Amanda's house and ambled up the walk. He was tired and distracted, not thinking about his future wife or even capturing Lorraine Rawlins. He had Lacey Guarder on his mind.

She'd felt amazing in his arms—a perfect fit—but getting tangled up with a woman with a questionable background was completely out of the question. He’d come to Tranquility to settle his life, not complicate it more.

He was still thinking about Lacey when he knocked on Amanda's door. The pretty school teacher greeted him with a smile, and a barrel full of guilt came crashing down over his head. He cleared his throat—but couldn’t clear his mind of an enticing woman with copper-colored hair. "Good evening, Matthew.”

"Evening, Amanda. Sorry I’m a little late.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Matthew. I know how hard you work to keep our town safe.”

No matter how much she might be put out, Amanda was always accommodating. That was something Matthew had really liked about her at first, but now he found himself wishing she'd show a little more backbone. Once they were married, he was going to see to it that she contradicted him at least once a day. A man needed that kind of balance in his life to keep his feet on the ground.

He helped her put her coat on.

Lacey Guarder certainly didn’t have any trouble challenging him. And he found it oddly…stimulating.

He led Amanda out into the cold twilight. "Nice evening," he said distractedly.

She frowned up at the dark, threatening sky. "Yes.”

He looked up and saw a sky so full of clouds not a single star shone through. But Amanda had still agreed with him. The tired, irritable side of him toyed with the idea of telling her the moon was the sun, but, not only did he not want to be cruel, part of him was afraid she might agree.

He led her to the buggy, helped her up to the leather seat, and covered her legs with the lap quilt. Then he settled in beside her for the fifteen minute ride to the Martin house.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crunch of the horses' hooves through the snow and the jingle of the bells on their harnesses. Matthew usually preferred quiet over mindless chatter, but tonight thoughts of Lacey Guarder were determined to fill the void.

He cleared his throat. “How was your day?” he asked.

“Busy. The older children are preparing for quarterly tests. What did you do today?”

He’d stupidly set himself up for that question.

The lanterns on the sides of the buggy bounced, casting dancing shadows across the dark road. Matthew kept his eyes focused straight ahead and did his best not to react too strongly to her question.

Despite warnings to his deputies, there was no doubt in his mind that, by morning, news of what had happened between himself and Lacey in the cave would be all over town. His best bet was to tell Amanda about it now while he was still in control of it.

"I had to rescue a woman from Geneva Lake."

Amanda gave him a shocked look. "Good heavens. Who?"

"Lacey Guarder."

"The Martins' houseguest?"

Matthew nodded. "She went riding and fell through the ice."

"She went riding on a lake?"

"The woman's not—” Sane, he wanted to say. “Used to cold climates,” he said instead.

“Is she all right?"

"She was unconscious. Hypothermia set in pretty quick. I took her to the Indian cave. It was closer than Geneva City.”

"That was very smart thinking, Matthew.”

Matthew clenched his jaw at her understanding. Her compliments were the last thing his guilty conscience needed. "I managed to warm her up before she froze to death."

“I’m surprised there was enough dry wood around the cave for a fire?"

The moment of truth. He couldn't lie to her—although he might have tried if there hadn’t been such a big chance of her hearing the story from somebody else. "There wasn't time for a fire. I shared body heat with her.”

Amanda was silent for a moment. Matthew used the time to think up a number of explanations that would hopefully stop her from ending their relationship right then and there.

"It seems that I am constantly being reminded of what a kind and generous person you are, Matthew," she finally said. He looked over and found her smiling at him. "Miss Guarder was very lucky that you came along," she added.

Matthew stared at her, confused. He'd lain naked with another woman and she was smiling at him? Rather than relief, he felt insulted that she wasn’t just a little bit jealous. Maybe Amanda was too innocent to understand. “You do know what sharing body heat means?”

She touched his arm. "It must have been very difficult for you and Miss Guarder.”

That was certainly one way to describe it. The difficult part had been tamping down his desire for Lacey—and here Amanda was commending him for his nobility.

She frowned at him. “She's all right, isn't she?"

“She’s fine.”

Matthew hesitated. To be honest, he hadn't really considered whether or not Lacey might still be in some sort of danger. Colds, flu, pneumonia, none of them were uncommon after experiencing what she had that morning. And he'd just dumped her on the Martins' doorstep without even pausing to see that she’d made it inside all right. He suddenly felt a little sick to his stomach, and gave the horses a light slap with the reins to get them moving faster.

"Is something wrong?"

"The wind's picking up. I don’t want you out in the cold too long.”

Amanda frowned, and looked around them into the darkening night. There wasn’t the slightest breath of a wind, but she didn't contradict him.

Lacey Guarder would have called him on his lie, even such a small harmless one as that, and she would have demanded he tell her what was really bothering him. She would have badgered and provoked him until he'd given in and blurted out the whole truth—that he'd enjoyed lying naked with another woman—and then she would have given him a lambasting like nothing he'd ever heard before. Lacey would demand nothing less than his total faithfulness and complete respect.

Amanda. Lacey. One offered everything she had on a silver platter, no questions asked, and the other made you work for every scrap she was forced to give you. Matthew had always loved a good challenge. He appreciated hard work, felt his best when he was rising to an occasion. And so it followed that firebrand Lacey got his heart pounding and temperate Amanda left him cold.

Frustrated, he settled his eyes back on the road. Amanda Simmons was a gentle, honorable woman, the perfect wife for a man looking to live a respectable life. That had been his goal until Lacey Guarder sashayed into town and gotten him all turned around.

For the sake of his future and the memory of his father he had to put the copper-haired beauty out of his mind. He would focus his undivided attention on Amanda. Once the bank had the money back, and his job was once again secure, he’d ask her to marry him. He had no doubt she’d say yes.

Then Lacey Guarder could take her tawny eyes, flashing smiles, and unending challenges, and go back to wherever she came from and leave him to his quiet, respectable life.