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until I buy it back you’ll own
some of the finest fishing rights in the world.”
    She couldn’t believe how crazy it was.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, shooting him a wry glance and lowering
her voice until the tone was serious. “You’re standing in Mr.
Wong’s and casually look around the room until you spot a woman
dressed in diamonds and silk. Suddenly your instincts take over.
You quickly judge her character and decide that there’s a woman
with fishing on her mind. Give me a break.” She threw up her hands
and laughed. This would go down as one of the most ridiculous and
memorable nights she’d ever had.
    Mitch Summers surprised her again by joining
in with a deep laugh of his own. Moisture gathered in the corners
of her eyes as she let the absurdity take her over. Mascara smudged
the white linen napkin she used to wipe her cheeks. She knew she
must look a mess, but she couldn’t stop. Here they sat, laughing in
the dark, alone in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the
islands, with dawn only three hours away.
    Mitch leaned forward and picked up her hand,
rolling it over in his own, his mouth still wrapped around that
crazy grin. “You’re right again, Anna, that’s exactly how it
happened. I’m just glad you turned out to be the same Anna Lange I
was looking for.”
    “I hate to disappoint you, Mitch, but I
wouldn’t know a rod from a reel and have even less interest in
finding out.” She finished wiping her eyes and dropped the napkin
on the table, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
    She liked the feel of his work-roughened
hand caressing hers. It was different from the smooth softness of
the other men she met. He was different. He was masculine without
being aggressive or threatening. He was so naïve she wanted to pat
him on the arm, tell him everything would be okay, kiss his cheek
and reassure him. She gazed at his face, lean and golden and
smiling in the moonlight. Maybe kiss him on the mouth, maybe tangle
her fingers in his sandy-brown hair, maybe run her hands along his
shoulders to feel the strength she knew was there. He was
different. He was sexy and she liked him. It wouldn’t be so bad
owning a piece of property outside of San Francisco. The city was
one of her regular stops.
    “How much is two
percent if I win?” she asked.
    “Twenty
acres.”
    “In cash, boy scout.”
    “About twenty thousand with the cabin on
it.”
    “And how much property are you going to give
me to play with? If I decide to take you on.” She added the last
with a note of warning.
    “A thousand
acres to match the
thousand
Dumonde has.”
    “Just how much property do you own?” she
asked, impressed with the numbers he’d revealed so far.
    “Two thousand
acres
.”
    A cold, sinking feeling invaded her heart.
“You’re going to risk it all?” He was more of a gambler than she’d
given him credit for, and it bothered her.
    “I want it all, Anna. It’s my home. I worked
hard for it, and I’m not about to let some two-bit hustler cheat me
out of it.” He wasn’t laughing anymore. His voice was deadly
serious, and she knew that under any other circumstances Jacques
Dumonde wouldn’t stand a chance against him. But they were talking
poker with a sleight-of-hand master, and Anna felt compelled to
change his mind.
    “That kind of property around San Francisco
must be worth a fortune. Why don’t you mortgage off the rest of the
land and buy out Dumonde?”
    Mitch released her and withdrew to his side
of the table. He swept a broad hand over his face and slumped back
in the chair, momentarily covering his eyes and rubbing his temples
as if the whole sorry mess gave him a headache.
    “I tried that. Dumonde wants more than I can
raise. He’s got the expensive thousand
acres—river front. And the
ranch isn’t in California. It’s near Hot Sulphur Springs,
Colorado.”
    “Hot Sulphur Springs? How . . . uh,
obscure.” Where did they come up with these names? The place
sounded as if it