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in neat, straight rows. Their white blooms reminded her of the snow she'd seen as a girl while accompanying her father on a business trip to Nashville.
    Jason sat forward in the saddle, his posture straight and majestic as he surveyed his domain. His spirited stallion tossed its head and snorted as if eager to be moving again. Jason patted it on the neck and murmured softly to soothe the animal.
    When he finally spoke to Caroline, his voice resounded with pride. "Everyone laughed when they learned that I planned to grow coffee so deep in the jungle."
    "Why?" she asked with genuine curiosity. Everything about this enigmatic, passionate man intrigued her. Why did you try to frighten me last night? she wanted to ask.
    Jason shrugged. "The difficulty of getting it to market. They thought I'd be spending all my profits on transportation, if I had any profits."
    "No, I mean why grow coffee so deep in the jungle?"
    "Because no one had done it before," he replied without hesitation.
    "But no one has leaped off a cliff and survived either."
    It seemed a perfectly logical observation to Caroline, but Jason studied her as if she were some strange animal that had crawled out of the jungle and had the nerve to challenge him. Irritation showed plainly on his handsome features.
    "Haven't you ever wanted to do something just to prove you could do it?" he asked, gazing across his domain once again. "I subdued the jungle and planted seeds that took root and became coffee trees. I built a home—"
    "It seems more like a fortress to me," Caroline couldn't help interjecting.
    Jason straightened in his saddle as if preparing to defend his position. "I suppose it is a fortress of sorts. It keeps the jungle out."
    She withdrew a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the perspiration on her face and throat, determined to remain calm despite the growing ire she sensed in her companion. "Are you sure that's all you want to keep out?"
    She studied the kaleidoscope of emotions that moved across his expressive face. Anger showed clearly in the set of his jaw and the fire in those pale slate-blue eyes.
    "You ask too damned many questions." He pointed toward a grove dotted with white blooms, diverting her from the subject at hand. "I grow trees that are a combination of Arabica and Robusta. They bloom like Arabica which grows best in the mountains, but they're stronger like Robusta which can grow anywhere. That's why I decided to develop my own strain. The coffee is uniquely mine in flavor, aroma, and smoothness."
    "I know. Your coffee always demands the highest price on the market," Caroline said admiringly. Not only was Jason's coffee of the finest quality, his consistently high yields had made the Sinclair Coffee Company one of the most successful companies in New Orleans. "This part of the plantation is as flat as Louisiana bottomland."
    Jason studied her, suspicion showing plainly on his handsome face. "It's very similar in composition, too. It's strong but fragile. It's hard to explain. You can't treat it harshly. But if you're kind to the land, it'll be kind to you. It's a simple rule more planters would do well to learn."
    "You couldn't possibly grow pure Arabica here," Caroline said, thinking aloud. "Fungus would take it over. But by combining it with Robusta.... How very interesting."
    "You needn't patronize me, woman," he said sharply, an angry glint in his eyes.
    "My name is Caroline," she told him patiently, as if she were speaking to a child, "and why would you think I'm patronizing you?"
    "Aren't you?"
    "Why, no. I was completely sincere. I've seen what happens to the coffee when it reaches the market in New Orleans. Is it so hard to believe that I might be interested in how it's grown?"
    "There's no need," he assured her, his manner, his expression, cold and remote. "I don't expect it."
    Caroline watched in mute amazement as he spurred his horse into a canter. She considered his words. What had they meant? That she was not allowed a