"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"I don't think we can avoid it," he agreed. "Come on. I'll take you home."

That evening, sitting alone on the deck, her conscience nagged at her. It didn't help that Clayton telephoned to tell her about the progress he was making.

"I've won over a new ally," he told her, and mentioned the congressman's name. "How's that for a day's work?!"

"Great!" she said, laughing. "Uh, how's the owl controversy?"

"It's a real hoot," he muttered. "Derrie and I aren't speaking because of it. Here I am a conservation candidate, voting against a little owl and a bunch of old trees just because it will mean new jobs and economic prosperity. She thinks I'm a lunatic."

"Was the moon full?"

"Cut it out. You're my sister. Blood is thicker than water."

"Probably it is, but what does that have to do with anything?"

He scowled. "I can't think of a single thing. How are you? Getting some rest?"

"Enough." She hesitated. "I...met someone."

"Someone? A man? A real, honest to G.o.d man?"

"He looks like one. He's taking me sailing."

"Nikki, I'm delighted! Who is he?"

She crossed her fingers on her lap. "Just an ordinary man," she lied. "He's into...cars."

"Oh. A mechanic? Well, there's nothing wrong with being a mechanic, I guess. Can he sail well enough not to drown you?"

"I think he could do anything he set his mind to," she murmured dreamily.

"Is this really you?" he teased. "You were off men for life, the last time we spoke."

"Oh, I am," she agreed readily. "It's just that this one is so different." She added, "I haven't ever met anyone quite like him."

"Is he a ladies' man?"

"I don't know. Perhaps."

"Nikki," he began, hesitating. She'd had a rough experience at an early age. She was vulnerable. "Listen, suppose I come up for a few days?"

"No!" She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "I mean, there's no need to do that."

"You're worrying me," he said.

"You can't protect me from the world, you know. I have to stand on my own two feet sometime."

"I guess you do," he said, sounding resigned and not too happy. "Okay, sis. Have it your way. But I'm as close as the telephone if you need me. Will you remember that?"

"You can bet on it."

"Then I'll speak to you soon."

When he hung up, Nikki let out the breath she'd been holding. That was all she needed now, to have Clayton come wandering up to the house and run head-on into his worst enemy. Things were getting complicated and she was certain that she needed to cut off the impossible relationship before it began. But she couldn't quite manage it. Already, Kane had gotten close to her heart. She hoped that it wouldn't break completely in the end.

She wondered how Kane was going to keep her in the dark about his wealth. If he took her sailing in a yacht, even a moron would notice that it meant he had money.

The next day he solved the problem adroitly by mentioning that he couldn't rent the sailboat he'd planned to take her out in, so they were going riding in a motorboat instead. It was a very nice motorboat, but nothing like the yacht he usually took onto the ocean.

Nikki smiled to herself and accepted the change of conveyance without noticeable effect.

"I know I said I'd take you out on a sailboat," he explained as he helped her into the boat, "but they're not very safe in high winds. It's pretty windy today."

It was, but she hardly thought a yacht would be very much affected. On the other hand, it wouldn't do for her "ordinary" houseguest to turn up in a million-dollar-plus sailing ship, and he must have realized that.

"Oh, I like motorboats," she said honestly, her eyes lighting up with excitement as Kane eased into the driver's seat and turned the key. The motor started right up and ran like a purring cat.

He glanced at her with a wry smile. "Are you a good sailor?"

"I guess we'll find out together," she returned.

He chuckled and pulled away from the pier.

The boat had a smooth glide on the water's surface, and the engine wasn't overly loud. Nikki put up a hand to her windblown hair, laughing as the faint spray of water teased her nose.

"Aren't you ever gloomy?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Oh, why bother being pessimistic?" she replied. "Life is so short. It's a crime to waste it, when every day is like Christmas, bringing something new."

She loved life. He'd forgotten how. His dark eyes turned toward the distant horizon and he tried not to think about how short life really was, or how tragically he'd learned the lesson.

"Where are we going?" Nikki asked.

"No place in particular," he said. He glanced at her with faint amus.e.m.e.nt. "Unless," he added, "you like to fish."

"I don't mind it. But you hate it!" she laughed.

"Of course I do. But I have to keep my hand in," he added. "So that I don't disgrace the rest of my family. The gear and tackle are under that tarp. I thought we'd ease up the river a bit and settle in a likely spot. I brought an ice chest and lunch."

"You really are full of surprises," she commented.

His dark eyes twinkled. "You don't know the half of it," he murmured, turning his concentration back to navigation.

He found a leafy glade and tied the boat up next to sh.o.r.e. He and Nikki sat lazily on the bank and watched their corks rise and fall and occasionally bob. They ate cold cut sandwiches and potato chips and sipped soft drinks, and Nikki marveled at the tyc.o.o.n who was a great fishing companion. Not since her childhood, when she'd gone fishing with her late grandfather, had she enjoyed anything so much. She'd forgotten how much fun it was to sit on the river with a fishing pole.

"Do you do this often?" she wanted to know.

"With my brothers and my father. Not ever with a woman." His broad shoulders lifted and fell. "Most of them that I know don't care for worms and hooks," he mused. "You're not squeamish, are you?"

"Not really. About some things, maybe," she added quietly. "But unless you're shooting the fish in a barrel, they have a sporting chance. And I do love fried ba.s.s!"

"Can you clean a fish?"

"You bet!"

He chuckled with delight. "In that case, if we catch anything, I'm inviting myself to supper." His eyes narrowed. "If you have no other plans."

"Not for two weeks, I haven't," she said.

He seemed to relax. His powerful legs stretched out in front of him and he tugged on the fishing pole to test the hook. "Nothing's striking at my bait," he grumbled. "I haven't had a bite yet. We'll give it ten more minutes and then we're moving to a better spot."

"The minute we move, a hundred big fish will feel safe to vacation here," she pointed out.

"You're probably right. Some days aren't good ones to fish."

"That depends on what you're fishing for," she said, concentrating on the sudden bob of her cork. "Watch this...!"

She pulled suddenly on the pole, snaring something at the end of the line, and scrambled to her feet. Whatever she'd hooked was giving her a run for her money. She pulled and released, pulled and released, worked the pole, moved up the bank, muttered and clicked her tongue until finally her prey began to tire. She watched Kane watching her and laughed at his dismal expression.

"You're hoping I'll drop him, aren't you?" she challenged. "Well, I won't. Supper, here you come!"

She gave a hard jerk on the line and the fish, a large ba.s.s, flipped up onto the bank. While Kane dealt with it, she baited her hook again. "I've got mine," she told him. "I don't know what you'll eat, of course."

He sat down beside her and picked up his own pole. "We'll just see about that," he returned.

Two hours later, they had three large ba.s.s. Nikki had caught two of them. Kane lifted the garbage and then the cooler with the fish into the boat. Nikki forgave herself for feeling vaguely superior, just for a few minutes.

Kane had forgotten his tragedies, his business dealings, his worries in the carefree morning he was sharing with Nikki. Her company had liberated his one-track mind from the rigors that plagued men of his echelon. He was used to being by himself, to letting business occupy every waking hour. Since the death of his family, he'd subst.i.tuted making money for everything else. Food tasted like cardboard to him. Sleep was infrequent and an irritating necessity. He hadn't taken a vacation or even a day off since the trip he'd taken with his wife and son that had ended so tragically.

Perhaps that very weariness had made him careless and caused his head injury. But looking at Nikki, so relaxed and happy beside him, he couldn't be sorry about it. She was an experience he knew he'd never forget. But, like all the others, he'd taste her delights and put her aside. And in two weeks after he left her, he wouldn't be able to recall her name. The thought made him restless.

Nikki noticed his unease. She wondered if he was as attracted to her emotionally as he seemed to be physically. It had worried her when he'd admitted that he had a lover. Of course, he thought she did, too, and it couldn't have been further from the truth. But it could be, she was forced to admit, remembering the feel of his big arms around her. He could be her lover. She trembled inside at the size and power of his body. Mosby had never been able to bring himself to make love to her at all. He'd only been able to touch her lightly and without pa.s.sion. She hadn't known what it was to be kissed breathless, to be a slave to her body's needs, until this stranger had come along. There were many reasons that would keep her from becoming intimate with him. And the first was the faceless lover who clung to him in the darkness. She didn't know how to compete with another woman, because she'd never had to.

She forced her wandering mind back to the fishing. This had been one of the most carefree days of her life. She was sad to see it end. Kane had agreed to come to supper, but she was losing him now to other concerns. His mind wasn't on the fish, or her. She wondered what errant thought had made him so preoccupied.

"I have to make a telephone call, or I'd help you clean the fish," he said when he left her at the front door of her beach house with the cooler.

"Business?" she asked.

His face showed nothing. "You might call it that." He didn't say anything else. He smiled at her distractedly and left with a careless wave of his hand.

Nikki went in to clean the fish, disturbed by his sudden remoteness. What kind of business could he have meant?

Kane listened patiently while the angry voice at the other end of the telephone ranted and railed at him.

"You promised that we could go to the Waltons' party tonight!" Chris fumed. "How can you do this to me? What sort of deal are you working on that demands a whole evening of your time?"

"That's hardly your concern," he said in a very quiet voice. Her rudeness and lack of compa.s.sion were beginning to irritate him. She was a competent psychologist, and he couldn't fault her intellect. But their mutual need for safe intimacy had been their only common bond. Chris wanted a man she could lead around by the nose in any emotional relationship. Kane wasn't the type to let anyone, man or woman, dictate to him. He'd tired of Chris. Tonight, she was an absolute nuisance.

"When will you phone me, then?" she asked stiffly.

"When I have time. It might be as well if we don't see as much of each other in the future."

There was a hesitation, then a stiff, "Perhaps you're right. You're a wonderful lover, Kane, but I always have the feeling that you're going over cost overruns even when we're together."

"I'm a businessman," he reminded her.

"You're a business," she retorted. "A walking, talking industry, and I still say you should be in therapy. You haven't been the same since..."

He didn't want to hear any more. "I'll phone you. Good night."

He put the receiver down before she could say anything else. He'd had quite enough of her psychoa.n.a.lysis. She did it all the time, even when she was in bed with him; especially when she was in bed with him, he amended. If he was aggressive, she labeled him a repressed m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t. If he was tender, he was pandering to her because he felt superior. Lately, she inhibited him so much that he lost interest very quickly when he was in bed with her, to the point of not being able to consummate lovemaking. That really infuriated her. She decided that his real problem was impotence.

If her barbs hadn't been so painful, they might have been amusing. He'd never been impotent in his life with anyone except Chris. Certainly he was more capable than ever when he just looked at Nikki. But, then, Nikki apparently didn't have any reason to hate and despise men. She was very feminine along with her intelligence, and she didn't tease viciously.

He got up and changed from jeans and jersey into dress slacks and a comfortable yellow knit shirt. Fried fish with Nikki was suddenly much more enticing than a prime rib and c.o.c.ktails with Chris.

He selected a bottle of wine from the supply he'd imported and carried it along with him. He wondered if Nikki knew anything about fine white wine. She was an intelligent girl, but she hadn't the advantages of wealth. Probably she wouldn't know a Chardonnay from a Johannisberg Riesling. That was something he could teach her. He didn't dare think about tutoring her in anything else just yet. She could become even more addicting than alcohol if he let her. Chris was all the trouble he needed for the present.

Nikki had cleaned and fried the fish and was making a fruit salad and a poppyseed dressing to go with it when Kane knocked briefly and let himself into the cottage.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. "Come on in," she invited. She was wearing a frilly floral sundress that left most of her pretty, tanned back bare while it discreetly covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in front. She was barefoot at the kitchen table and Kane felt his body surge at the picture of feminine beauty she presented. How long had it been, he tried to recall, since he'd seen a woman in his own circle of friends wearing anything less masculine than a pin-striped business suit? Nikki dressed the way he liked to see a woman dress, not flaunting her curves but not denying it, either. She dressed as if she had enough confidence in her intellect not to have to hide her womanhood behind it.

"I've just finished the salad and dressing. Want to set the table?" she asked brightly.

He hesitated. He couldn't remember ever doing that in his life. Even as a child, there had always been maids who worked in the kitchen.

"The plates are there," she nodded toward a cupboard with her head. "You'll find utensils in the second drawer. Place mats and napkins are in the third drawer." She noticed his expression and his hesitation with faint amus.e.m.e.nt. "You do know how to set a table?"

"Not really," he admitted.

"Then it's high time you learned," she said. "Someday you may get married, and think how much more desirable you'll be if you know your way around a kitchen."

He didn't react to the teasing with a smile. He stared at her with a curious remoteness and she remembered belatedly the dead wife she wasn't supposed to know about.

"I don't want to marry anyone," he said unexpectedly. "Especially a woman I've only just met," he added without being unkind.

"Well, certainly you don't want to marry me right now," she agreed. "After all, you don't even know me. Sadly, once you discover my worthy traits and my earthy longings, you'll be clamoring to put a ring on my finger. But I'll have to turn you down, you know. I already have a commitment."

His face went hard and his eyes glittered. He turned away from her and began searching in drawers. "Some commitment," he muttered. "The man doesn't even come to check on you. What if a hurricane hit? What if some criminal forced his way in here and raped you, or worse?"

"He phones occasionally," she said demurely.

"What a h.e.l.l of a concession," he returned. "How do you stand all that attention?"

"I really don't need your approval."