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stilled. Her mind flew to Mark, alone in their room.
    Grabbing a stapler, she pushed the chair back, stood and turned, raising the stapler to her shoulder at the same time.
    “You goin’ to hit me with that thing? Or just staple me to death?” Donovan drawled.
    He had on jeans and nothing else. Dark hair covered his chest. She couldn’t keep her eyes from following it down.
    A real hunk. She felt a shiver of appreciation, the first in a very long time.
    Slumping in relief, she put the stapler back on the desk. “You frightened me.”
    “Sorry. Heard noises. Didn’t know I’d find you. Figured you’d be knocked out.”
    He moved into the room, and though it was large, it seemed small with him in it.
    She gave him another quick glance. He looked good with his hair tousled, and dangerous with his scruffy beard and dark, somber eyes.
    She took a deep breath, grabbed the paper from the printer, and handed it to him. “The list you wanted. Couldn’t sleep until I finished it.”
    He shook his head. “It could’ve waited.”
    Anxiety tore at her. She had to know what to expect. If she had to leave, there were plans to make.
    Looking straight into his eyes, she decided now was as good a time as any. No matter what, she’d keep Mark safe.
    The scene in her house the day they left California whipped through her head and made her hands shake.
    Swallowing hard, she asked the question that would decide her and Mark’s fate. “What are your plans now that you’re back? Will you keep me on? Or will Mark and I have to leave?”

Chapter Four
    Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fright. He’d startled her. But her reaction was too intense for the situation. It seemed to take an effort on her part to smooth away the scare.
    Just who was Phylis Leander?
    She tilted her head expectantly.
    How could he answer her question?
    He looked down at the paper in his hand. It was the kind of list he’d make himself. The big jobs were listed first, the smaller ones last. And it was short. Did that mean there were jobs she hadn’t listed? Or that she didn’t know? No. She’d proven earlier that she knew her way around a cattle ranch, but he still had doubts.
    “Did you hear me?” she asked.
    He looked up from the paper in his hand into large anxiety-filled eyes.
    His plan had been to come home, make sure his mom was well, then leave. Not complicated at all.
    Only it was. Even though he’d expected either she or Dugan would hire someone to tend the ranch, he hadn’t expected it to be a woman. Certainly not one who lived in the house with a kid who acted right at home—and certainly not one who seemed frightened out of her wits at the slightest provocation.
    He cleared his throat. The thing of it was, Mom seemed taken with them and he didn’t have his plans squared away just yet. Truth was, he didn’t have any plans. “Let me get my feet on the ground. Then we’ll see,” he said.
    “Fair enough. Good night, then.” She nodded curtly, grabbed an armload of clothes, and left the room.
    He watched her leave. It was easy to do. In that short robe all he could see were a pair of floor-to-ceiling legs—legs that were definitely worth looking at. Jeez! Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he tried to wipe out the picture. Failed.
    What was there about her? She seemed awfully anxious about her job. The ranch demanded hours of grueling labor. There had to be other things she could do that wouldn’t be so hard on the body or so demanding, something less rigorous. Or was it that she liked ranching?
    The question was still there. If he decided to stay, would it be practical to keep her on?
    The answer was a resounding no.
    He trudged upstairs, passed TJ’s old room where Phyl and her son were making themselves at home. A flick of the switch in his own room revealed the same maple furniture he’d had as a kid. A round multi-colored braided rug his mom had made years ago lay on the floor at the end of the bed. All familiar, yet he felt