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back, and with a sunny smile that could warm the most dour disposition. She possessed a remarkably steady nature, and Carrie knew that she was just right for her job. “I’m doing really well. Nothing is happening around here, though, and of course it’s dullsville without you! How long are you home?”
    Carrie’s face closed up. “I’m not sure—probably for about a month or so. I’ll just plan things as they come along for a while. The art gallery approved my exhibition and they’re planning for the beginning of August for the hoopla, but other than that, I haven’t any plans.”
    Gail sobered, catching sight of Carrie’s serious face. “Oh-oh. This looks serious. Would you like to get together and talk about it?”
    She hesitated and then smiled, but it wasn’t a very realistic one. “I’d like that,” she said.
    “Tomorrow for coffee?”
    Carrie could see the other girl thinking rapidly as she said this, and she tilted her head wryly. “That’s short notice. Sure you don’t have anything planned?” She could read the answer on Gail’s face, although she tried to hide it. “It can wait until next week some time, when you’re free. Don’t juggle your schedule around me—I’ve all the free time in the world at present.”
    The darker girl sighed. “Oh, all right! I can tell when you don’t want me, just go ahead and say it.”
    They both laughed. “I’ll give you a call, okay? We can go out for coffee, and maybe go shopping or something, next week.”
    “Sounds fine.” Carrie turned around, searching the clusters of conversing people. “And now I think I should go and see if Mother needs my help with anything. I’ll talk to you later.” Waving to Gail, she began to hunt in the crowd for some sign of Janet.
    “Carrie!” Janet’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her, and she turned, searching the people with her eyes. She was really too short and had to stand on tiptoe. “Over here, honey!”
    She located her mother, who was waving, over by one the picnic tables where the drinks were. She looked over and looked again. Then she closed her eyes. It just couldn’t be! But when she opened her eyes again, the man was still there, dark and lean and standing beside her mother, who laid a hand on his arm and was talking quickly. Then he looked over to where Carrie was standing and started to walk her way with Janet’s hand still on his arm.
    It was the man who had driven the dark blue Mercedes.
    Shifting her weight to one leg, Carrie endeavored to keep her chaotic thoughts from showing on her expressive face. She crossed her arms and waited for the two to reach her, mouth pursed and one eyebrow lifted as she was beginning to have a suspicion of just who the fellow might be.
    He looked better than he had on the road. His blue jeans, fitting snugly over muscular thighs, were nicer than the disreputable ones of last week, and he had just recently shaved, although there was a dark shadow on his chin that would never disappear. His shirt was fresh and crisply ironed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and unbuttoned at the throat where dark hairs showed, hinting at more on the broad expanse of his chest. His dark brown hair was smoothly combed this time, but there the differences ended.
    He still had that devilish, white smile. He still exuded an aura of physical power. Although of average height—not quite six foot, she guessed—his was the type of presence that was noticed immediately in a crowd with his broad, muscular shoulders, the arrogant tilt of his head, and the slim lean length of his legs.
    Janet called out to Carrie as they approached her.
    “Sweetheart, I’d like for you to meet Gabe Jackson, the man who’s building the shopping centre near town and who bought the Carroll’s ranch. Gabe, this is my daughter, Carrie. She’s a photographer.”
    The two reached the spot where Carrie stood resisting the impulse to turn and walk away from them (she would not admit her embarrassment!).