"Make love to me, Ethan," she said. "Show me what it means to be a woman."

Ethan tenderly brushed a stray hair back from her face. "Patch, you don't know what you're asking. Nothing in my life is settled. In fact, things are worse than ever. There's a hired gun d.o.g.g.i.ng my footsteps-"

She put her fingertips on his lips to shush him. "I don't want to think about tomorrow. I want to live for today."

Ethan turned his head away to avoid the appeal in her liquid eyes.

"You don't want me?"

His head snapped back around. Feral eyes found hers. "Woman, I'm on fire for you! But I like and respect your father too much to-"

"What about liking and respecting me? What about what I want?"

"You're too young-"

Patch shoved Ethan off her and scrambled to her feet. "If I hear again how young I am, I think I'll scream."

"But you are young!"

Patch screamed.

Ethan caught her and put a hand over her mouth. "That's enough, brat! I get your point!"

When the echo ended, Patch pulled his hand down so she could speak. "I'm old enough to know my own mind, Ethan. I'm old enough to know what I want and go after it. And I want a life with you."

"When you grow up, Patch, you find out that you don't always get what you want," Ethan said bitterly.

Patch bit her lip on further argument. There was time still to wear him down. He wanted her. It was only circ.u.mstances that were keeping them apart. She had to work harder, investigate further, faster. In the secrets of the past lay the hope for her future with Ethan.

"I'm supposed to meet Merielle this afternoon. We're going on a picnic together. Can you join us?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

A muscle jerked in Ethan's cheek. "You know why not. Besides, I've got work to do."

"Then I guess I'll invite Boyd to come along. He's good company."

Patch had been hoping for a jealous reaction from Ethan. She was unprepared for the one she got. Lickety-split he had her pressed up against the stone wall of the cave. He pinned her there with his hips and tangled his fingers in her hair.

"Don't play games with me, Patch. If you choose Boyd, I won't stand in your way. He's a good man. But don't play us off against each other. He won't like it. Neither will I."

"So n.o.ble of you to stand aside for your friend," Patch said with a sneer. "Now get out of my way. I want to leave."

Ethan found the thought of Patch with Boyd unbearable. He wanted to claim her as his own. So he kissed her. And knew right away he had made a mistake, because Patch responded. She always responded. With her heart. With her soul. He took and took with his mouth and gave back what he had no right to give. Somehow he pulled away. He wasn't going to let her goad him into doing something he would be sorry for later.

He was having trouble drawing breath.

So was she. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes dilated, her body quivering with need.

"It isn't going to work, Patch. I'm letting you go."

It was harder than he had thought it was going to be. He was aware of how silky her hair was as his hands slid free. He felt her shudder as he levered himself away from her. Her chin was trembling, and he wanted to pull her back into his arms and hold her tight and be her bulwark against the world.

"d.a.m.n you, Patch," he muttered. "You don't fight fair."

Patch didn't speak again as she shimmied her way out of the cave. Ethan got tired of watching her f.a.n.n.y wriggle like a worm on a hook. He gave her a shove that sent her out through the opening before he ended up taking the bait like some stupid fish.

Patch leaned down and called, "Are you coming, Ethan?"

"I think I'll stay in here for a while."

"Suit yourself!"

He could tell she was angry. And frustrated. So was he.

With any luck she would think of him when she spent the afternoon with Boyd Stuckey.

"Ethan! Come quick!"

Ethan scrambled out of the cave the instant he heard Patch's cry for help, his heart in his throat, his adrenaline pumping. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Once outside the cave he looked where she pointed and saw what had caused her distress. "A fox? You scared the pants off me for a fox?"

"A kit-a baby fox," Patch said, her chin stuck defiantly in the air. "He's stuck in this patch of cactus." She was on her knees beside the mouth of the cave. Her fingertips and the backs of her hands were covered with cactus stickers she had apparently collected while trying to rescue the fox from where it was trapped in the th.o.r.n.y maze.

"How do you suppose it got in there?" Patch asked.

"I don't know. I can't believe you tried getting him out of there without wearing gloves. Give me your hands."

"I need to-"

"Give me your hands!" Ethan snarled.

Patch extended her hands.

He took them in his and turned them over. "Dammit, Patch! Look what you've done to yourself. You're a b.l.o.o.d.y mess. We'd better get these hands taken care of, and fast."

When he tried to draw her to her feet, she wouldn't rise.

"Ethan, please, will you help me get the kit free? It's going to starve if we don't do something."

He didn't know whether to be irritated by her stubbornness or enchanted by the look of appeal on her face. He settled for a quick, hard kiss.

"What was that for?"

"Because ..."

I love you.

He was appalled at the words that leapt to his mind. At least he knew better than to speak them.

"Because you're going to need something else to think about besides your hands when I start pulling out those cactus needles."

"The kit-"

"After I free the kit, of course."

He took her by the shoulders and moved her bodily aside, then pulled on his leather gloves and reached down through the th.o.r.n.y cactus to retrieve the baby fox.

The kit snapped at him, and he jerked back his hand. A bead of red welled through the rawhide.

"Feisty little son of a gun," Ethan murmured.

"Be gentle," Patch admonished.

"I hope you're talking to the fox," Ethan said. "He's the one with the rotten temper."

Patch grinned. "That goes for both of you."

The instant Ethan freed the fox, it took off like a pack of hounds was chasing it.

"Happy now?" Ethan asked.

"Happy." Patch looked down at her hands. "But I think it's time we took care of my hands-and yours."

They walked down to the riverbank and made themselves comfortable while Ethan painstakingly picked the stickers out of Patch's fingertips and the backs of her hands.

They spent the next half hour soaking their wounded hands in the cool river water. Patch took off her shoes and soaked her feet too. She laughed at him when he told her he'd keep his boots on. She looked adorable. Lovable. Kissable. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her.

With the thoughts he was having about Patch, Ethan thought his time would have been better spent soaking his head.

He was jealous, he realized, of his best friend.

"Are you going to invite Boyd on that picnic?" he asked.

She flashed a wary look at him. "Yes."

Ethan's jaw tightened, but he refused to let her provoke him to anger again. He rose abruptly. "We'd better get moving, then, if you're going to have time to get ready."

Ethan tensed as he felt Patch's fingertips on his arm.

"Are you sure you can't come, too?"

He purposely avoided looking at her, afraid he would succ.u.mb to the entreaty he was sure to find in her eyes. He didn't want to spend the afternoon in her company, watching her be charmed by Boyd Stuckey. Because he was liable to end up punching his best friend in the nose.

"I've got work to do," he said in a harsh voice.

He saw her flinch. He was aware of the moment she removed her hand from his arm and drew away from him.

"All right, Ethan," she said. "I understand."

He watched her walk away from him, her back stiffened by that iron rod, reminding him of who and what she was-and why he had no right to claim her for his own.

He held himself rigid to keep from running after her, to keep from pulling her into his arms and holding her close, to keep from laying her down on the cool gra.s.s and loving her as he longed to do.

"d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n," he muttered.

It was time to find the man responsible for Merielle's rape. Therein lay his only hope for a future with the shamelessly saucy lady who was slowly but surely claiming his heart.

Trahern turned a jaundiced eye on the gunfighter sitting across from him in his parlor. "Why isn't Ethan Hawk dead yet?"

"I like to get to know a man before I make my move," Calloway said.

"You've had a week. How long does it take?" Trahern demanded irritably.

Calloway focused wintry gray eyes on the man who had hired him. "I've had my doubts about this job from the day I got here. Your telegram said Ethan Hawk was wanted by the law, but there's no poster on him that I can find."

Trahern flushed guiltily.

"I'll make up my own mind when and where-and whether-I'll handle this job. If you don't like the way I do business, find yourself another man." Calloway stood to leave.

"No need to be hasty," Trahern said, rising to block the door. "You can understand my concern. After all, the man threatened my life."

"Seems to me he had some provocation."

The narrow smile on Calloway's face chilled Trahern to the bone. He sputtered a denial. "It's not the same thing at all. The man raped my daughter!"

"So you said." Calloway started for the door.

Trahern stood to block his way. "So? Are you going to do the job or not?"

Calloway waited for Trahern to move aside and let him pa.s.s. Trahern debated the wisdom of staying where he was. He took a step to the left. "Where can I contact you?"

"You can't." Calloway left the parlor, then turned back to Trahern from the central hallway. "You'll hear from me."

Calloway reached the front door at almost the same time as Merielle reached the foot of the stairs.

"h.e.l.lo," she said. "You must be a friend of Father's."

Calloway tipped his hat. "An acquaintance only, ma'am."

Merielle didn't notice the distinction, but Trahern did. He marveled that his daughter seemed unafraid of the intimidating gunfighter.

Merielle saw only kindness in the face that looked down at her. The tenderness in the gunman's gray eyes for the child-woman would have amazed her father and appalled Calloway, had he realized it was visible.

"Excuse me," he said to Merielle. "I have business that needs tending."