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her. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit one before leaning back against the cliff and inhaling deeply. "Oh, sorry." He fumbled for the crumpled pack he had jammed back into his shirt pocket. Would you like one?"
    She shook her head. "I don't smoke." "Would you rather I didn't?" "No, I don't mind people around me smoking. I just can't stand the thought of it myself." She closed her eyes and arched her throat to let the fresh breeze touch her with its sweet freedom. "Disease?"
    She shook her head. "No, it's the dependency. I can't bear the idea of becoming addicted to them. It frightens me."
    "Frightens you?" Daniel's brow arched quizzically. "That's rather strange in a girl who isn't afraid of bears, terrorists, or snakes."
    She opened her eyes. "Is it?" She was suddenly rising to her feet. "Did you say there was a creek nearby?"
    "At the bottom of the hill in that little cluster of tamarisk trees." He could scarcely see her face in the dimness of the dusk, but her shoulders were oddly
     
    rigid and tense. He slowly crushed out his cigarette on the ground. "Wait a minute and I'll show you."
    "No, that's all right. I'll find it." She was already hurrying, almost running down the hill.
    Daniel muttered a low exclamation as he got to his feet and followed more slowly. The woman changed moods from moment to moment. One second she was a frightened little girl, clinging to him in the darkness, the next she was coolly strong and mature. And now she was acting as nervous as that high-strung palomino she had been riding in the photograph. If he had to form an instant obsession with any woman, why couldn't it be with one who wasn't as complicated as that Mah-Jongg game Philip was so fanatic about? He had only known the woman one afternoon and she had already aroused in him an entire gamut of emotions. Desire, tenderness, protectiveness, jealousy. If he hadn't been so jealous of her precious David, he'd have been a hell of a lot more diplomatic about staking his claim. He could tell he had almost scared her to death. Not that he wouldn't have established his possession before he turned her over to Clancy anyway. From the minute he had sat down across from her on the plane he had known. It was like the pieces of a puzzle at last slipping into place. God, it had felt weird.
    He frowned as he crossed the last few yards to the tamarisk grove. Zilah must think he was the weird one: An ex-mercenary with the edges still rough and unpolished, barging into her life, throwing bombs around and telling her that she was going to belong to him whether she liked it or not. It was no wonder she was acting so skittish.
    He would have to curb his impatience and be gentle and civilized. Hell, she was only twenty-one. A college kid who had probably been sheltered from rough bastards like him. What had he been doing
    when he was twenty-one? Nam and then central Africa and then ... He couldn't even remember all the countries, all the wars, all the women he had gone
    through in all those years that separated them. He'd have to be very careful to keep those years and expenences from intruding between them. Yes, he'd be very discreet and cool from now on and maybe . . .
    All thoughts of coolness and discretion fled as he caught sight of her kneeling on the stones that banked the rushing creek. She had taken off her cotton shirt and the straps of her lacy bra were pushed down on her arms as she bathed her face and shoul-ders with a white handkerchief. It was the same handkerchief he had given her on the plane, he realized. Her sunstreaked hair was falling in a straight silky cloak around her. One hand reached up to push the shimmering mass over her shoulder and it rip-pled down her back. She dipped the handkerchief in the water again and wrung out the bit of cotton before running it in slow enjoyment down her arm from shoulder to wrist. Daniel inhaled sharply. He felt as if that leisurely hand was stroking his body, not her own. His