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affection was something he never gave to Dawson; at least, not visibly. It was as if there was a barrier between them. Her mother had caused the final rift, just by marrying George. Barrie had been caught in the middle and she became Dawson’s scapegoat for the new chaos of his life. George’s remarriage had shut Dawson out of his father’s life for good.
    Barrie had tried to talk to Dawson about his mother once, but he’d verbally slapped her down, hard. After that, she’d made sure personal questions were kept out of their conversation. Even today, he didn’t like them. He was private, secretive, mysterious.
    Rodge took her bags up to her old room on the second floor, and she looked around the hall, past the sliding doors that led to the living room on one side and the study on the other, down to the winding, carpeted staircase. Suspended above the hall was a huge crystal chandelier, its light reflected from a neat black-and-white tile floor. The interior of the house was elegant and faintly unexpected on a ranch.
    “I’d forgotten how big it is,” Barrie mused.
    “We used to do a lot of entertaining,” Corlie reminded her. She glared at Dawson. “Not anymore.”
    “I’ll remember you said that,” he replied. “Perhaps we’ll throw a party for Mrs. Holton when she gets here.”
    “That would make a nice change,” Corlie said. She winked at Barrie. “But I expect she’s going to be something of a nuisance to a newly engaged couple. I’ll help run interference.”
    She smiled and went off to make coffee.
    “Oh, dear,” Barrie murmured, seeing more complications down the road.
    Dawson shoved his hands into his pockets and searched her face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It will all work out.”
    “Will it?” She grimaced. “What if Mrs. Holton sees right through us?”
    He moved a little closer, near enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. “Neither of us is used to touching or being touched,” he remarked when she stiffened. “That may be awkward.”
    She remembered how he’d pushed away the woman at the party in Tucson. Barrie was afraid to come that close, but they were supposed to be engaged and it would look unnatural if they never touched each other.
    “What are we going to do?” she asked miserably.
    He sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. Slowly his hand went out, and he touched her long, wavy dark hair. His fingers were just a little awkward. “Maybe we’ll improve with some practice.”
    She bit her lower lip. “I…hate being touched,” she whispered in a rough whisper.
    He winced.
    She lowered her eyes to his chest. “Didn’t you notice, at the party? I had two men at my feet, but did you see how much distance there was between us? It’s always like that. I don’t even dance anymore…!”
    His hand withdrew from her hair and fell to his side. “God forgive me,” he said miserably. “I don’t think I can ever forgive myself.”
    Her eyes came up, shocked. He’d never admitted guilt, or fault before. Something must have happened to change him. But what?
    “We’ll have to spend some time together before she gets here,” he said slowly. “And get to know each other a little better. We might try holding hands. Just to get used to the feel of each other.”
    Tentative. Like children on a first date.
She wondered why she was being so whimsical, and smiled.
    He smiled back. For the first time in recent memory, it was without malice or mockery.
    “Antonia said that Mrs. Holton was very attractive,” she remarked.
    “She is,” he agreed. “But she’s cold, Barrie. Not physically, but emotionally. She likes to possess men. I don’t think she’s capable of deep feelings, unless it’s for money. She’s very aggressive, single-minded. She’d have made a good corporate executive, except that she’s lazy.”
    “Did her husband leave her well-fixed?” she asked curiously.
    “No. That’s why she’s trying to find a man to keep