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giggling exchange with his young friend from a neighboring ranch.
           Intent upon retrieving her errant charge, Melanie collided with the solid chest of a tall stranger before she could stop her headlong rush. Breath knocked from her, she stumbled backward, only to find herself steadied by a pair of strong hands. Mortified, Melanie raised her flushed face to apologize, but the words froze in her throat as her eyes widened in recognition. “You!”
           Lee's black eyes narrowed to slits as he appraised the luscious little morsel who had just flattened herself against him. She was tiny of stature but very well put together; her sheer mustard silk shirt revealed a full bosom, heaving from her headlong dash. His hands could span her fragile waist. He took in the enticing curves of her hips under the scandalous split leather riding skirt. Expensive clothes but not what he'd allow his wife to wear. As her gasping single word of recognition registered in his ears, his eyes traveled up to her face.
           And an exquisite face it was. Delicately arched brows rose over enormous golden eyes fringed with thick black lashes. Those eyes were slanted, following the arresting lines of her high cheekbones. A generous pink mouth was pursed in shock over a pointy, stubborn chin. Her complexion was flawless, an olive-gold hue that was complemented by masses of gleaming ebony hair spilling down her back and around her shoulders. She knew him, but who was she?
           “Leandro Velasquez, home from your foreign adventures at last. Whatever brings you to our parochial little celebration!” she asked, proud of her regained composure and erudite vocabulary.
           “I'm afraid you have the advantage,” Lee replied, a frown of concentration marring his chiseled features.
           Melanie looked up at the tall man, more muscular and mature than the reed-slim eighteen-year-old boy who had struggled to rescue a humiliated and terrified twelve-year-old from the clutches of a lecherous sailor on the Galveston waterfront. Lee was still wonderfully handsome to her infatuated eyes. And he doesn't even remember me! Smiling over sweetly, she said, “After that brute of a first mate almost squashed you like an insect, I'd think you'd be grateful to the girl with the scissors who saved your life that day on the wharf.”
           “Fleming's daughter,” he choked out. “But you were only a little girl—” He could sense her smirk even before it began to spread across the lovely face. “All right. I suppose that was four years ago, Melanie. You did grow up. Forgive me?” He doffed his wide-brimmed hat, revealing that splendid head of curling black hair. When he smiled, the blinding white slash in his dark face made her heart do a sudden lurch.
           “Well, since you do remember my name, not just my father's, I suppose I forgive you,” she said, returning the smile.
           “But I'd say your scissors did more damage to me than the first mate!” What a hellish week that had been.
           ‘‘Is that why you left as soon as my father arrived, not even saying good-bye?” she half teased, half challenged. How well she could still remember her devastation when she awoke that morning and her papa told her Lee was gone.
           Lee, too, recalled his judicious retreat but was unaware it had caused a young girl's heartbreak. “Let's just say discretion was the better part of valor,” he replied lightly.
           Melanie was saved from an angry retort by her brother's sudden arrival. Remembering his hero from early childhood in San Antonio, Adam catapulted into Lee's arms. “Lee! Aunt Charlee told us you were living in Mexico. I'm so glad you're home. Wait till you see where we live now! Our papa has the biggest ranch in Texas. You gotta come visit us.”
           Smiling, Lee set the boy down and knelt by his side. “Afraid I can't do that just now. Dulcia's