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she couldn't deny the passion he drew from her, but that didn't change the fact that Saxon would be a difficult man to live with.
    He would be possessive, arrogantly sure of himself, rigid and unbending when it came to the more frivolous things in life. He worked hard and demanded that others do the same. Devon was convinced that one of the reasons he wanted to marry her was that she'd proved she wasn't afraid of hard work. He wouldn't want a flighty butterfly for a wife. He needed a sturdy, practical, pragmatic, uncomplaining and undemanding farm woman. Someone with whom he could work shoulder to shoulder for the next fifty or sixty years. He didn't need a woman who'd learned to love freedom and silk. He didn't need a woman who'd learned to have fun.
    "What happened to your photography this year, Devon?" Garth asked as he watched her finish dinner preparations. "Back in Hawk Springs you always had some of your photographs hanging on the walls."
    "I've been doing some free-lance work. Not much." No sense explaining that she'd been just beginning to make the free-lance work pay and hoped to eventually make a career out of it.
    He nodded. "You'll be able to get back into it when you return to Hawk Springs. I'm going to need some good portraits of Royal Standard and High Flyer for this year's ads in the horse magazines. I've been waiting until you got back rather than hire a photographer. I did that after you left last year and the photos weren't nearly as good as the ones you did the year before."
    Devon couldn't deny the little wave of pleasure that went through her at the compliment. Royal Standard and High Flyer were two of Garth's prize Arab stallions. They commanded high stud fees. When their equine services were advertised in the horse magazines a photo was usually run along with the full-page color ad that detailed their fancy pedigrees.
    The year before she'd left Hawk Springs Garth had hired Devon to take some shots of his stallions, even though she'd never had a photo published. She'd always thought of her photography as just a hobby. At the time she'd worried that Garth was merely finding a discreet way of giving her money, but she'd been reassured when the response to the ad had been very positive. It had given her the confidence to actually consider trying to make photography pay. Something else for which she owed Garth, Devon thought with an inner wince.
    "I think we're ready to eat," Devon said in a subdued voice as she folded the peanut sauce into the noodles.
    "Good. I've been hungry since I stopped at a fast food restaurant on the Interstate around noon. That junk food doesn't stick with you." Garth ambled over to the kitchen table, eyeing the noodle dish. "What is that, exactly?"
    "Well, it's not beef," she assured him.
    "I can see that. Has it got a name?"
    "Don't look so skeptical. It's just noodles and vegetables in peanut sauce. Close your eyes and pretend it's a chunk of pot roast or a piece of steak." She set the dish down on the table and sorted out the tableware. Garth slid onto the seat across from her.
    "I'm hungry enough to eat anything." He watched her ladle out a hearty serving and set it in front of him. He tried the mixture rather cautiously, chewing reflectively.
    "Well?" Devon demanded.
    "It's not bad. A little strange, but not bad." Garth took a much bigger second bite. "I think I can get through it without having to close my eyes."
    "You don't know how relieved I am," Devon said dryly.
    "Is this the kind of thing you like to cook these days?"
    "Afraid so. I make a heck of a pasta primavera, too."
    "I won't even ask what that is."
    "Smart man," she said with an approving smile. Across the table his gaze met hers, and for a moment a silent, humorous communication took place that left Devon feeling suddenly very nervous. "Garth?"
    "What?" Garth was busy forking up another bite of noodles.
    "Did you have any fun this year?" For the life of her she didn't know what gave her the courage to ask him