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suit me, although how you’re going to document
every single tribe, I have no idea. The picture would last hundreds
of hours.”
    Martin chose to ignore his assistant’s lack
of gusto and clapped him on the back. “Fine. That’s good. Well,
then, I see you’re all set for dinner. I’d better go upstairs and
change, too.” With another cheery pat on Colin’s back, he headed
toward the door.
    Colin watched, him go, his expression dour.
Brenda decided she might as well let her presence be known,
although she expected Colin wouldn’t approve of having been
eavesdropped upon. Not that she couldn’t soothe his nerves in a
minute or two. She was an expert at manipulating the human
male.
    She stood and laid the book down upon the
table, making sure she made only a very small rustling noise. As
she expected, the rustle attracted Colin, who swiveled his head and
directed his scowl at the corner. He was surprised to see her, so
she gave him one of her more softly luminous smiles
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Peters. It’s improper of me,
I know, but I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the information
you gave to Martin. About Indian abductions, you know.”
    He goggled at her for only a moment. Then
his sour expression altered slightly, until he looked more
irritated than angry. “Were you?”
    “Oh, yes.” She walked up to him, exuding
charm and grace, and held out her hand, which she placed delicately
on his arm. He looked down at it as if it were a rattlesnake poised
to strike. Brenda thought he was cute as a bug. “And if you
wouldn’t be terribly bored, I’d love to hear more about the
subject.”
    “You would?” Clearly he disbelieved her.
    Little did he know. While Brenda could and
did read everything she could get her hands on, she preferred
hearing interesting historical facts imparted verbally. Were she a
wealthy man, she’d have been a scholar, and she’d have haunted the
lecture halls. Since she was a woman, and beautiful, she was
limited in her options.
    This was one option she didn’t aim to let
pass. “Oh, my, yes.” With a discreet flutter of her eyelashes, she
added, “Would you be very bored if I were, to sit with you after
dinner? In one of the smaller parlors, perhaps? I’m truly eager to
learn about the Indians. For the picture.”
    He snorted and then looked embarrassed. “I
beg your pardon, Miss Fitzpatrick.”
    She waved his apology away and purred,
“Brenda, please.”
    Was it her imagination, or did a faint blush
stain his cheeks? Hmmm. Interesting.
    “Yes. Well—well, certainly. I’ll be happy to
talk to you after dinner.” He bowed stiffly. “Now, if you’ll excuse
me . . .”
    Liar. He wouldn’t either be happy to talk to
her. But he would be eventually. She’d see to it.
    “Thank you so much.” If the smile she gave
him in parting didn’t knock him cockeyed, it sure wasn’t her
fault.
     
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    Brenda didn’t succeed in blocking Colin
cockeyed. Although the information might have disappointed her for
moment had she known it, she would have been pleased to learn that
she was right about one thing: It wasn’t her fault.
    Because, while Brenda was extraordinarily
adept in her own behavioral adaptations, so was Colin at his.
Always a quiet person, even as a child, he’d had ample time to
study the care and feeding of human animals, with the majority of
whom he had nothing whatever in common.
    He’d long ago ceased believing that an
attractive, vibrant woman, by some fluke of nature, might be so
desperately attracted to him that she’d spend an entire evening—or
even a meal—hanging on to his every word and gesture. He was not,
however, unaccustomed to pretty women using him as bait as they
trolled for more likely candidates to reel into their creels.
    By this time, in his thirty-first year,
Colin could no longer be crushed by such behavior. He understood
that each species exhibited its own mating customs, and he accepted
this one as part of the