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the vulnerability of her features. Or the lips that reminded him of a lush, exotic jungle orchid he’d seen in Brazil–cherry red, even now in her present condition. Or perhaps it was her heart-shaped face, or the wide cheekbones that gave her eyes an almost tilted look. A smile eased the taut planes of Slade’s face as he followed the coverlet of freckles from one cheek across her broken nose to the other cheek.
    Slade reached over, lightly tracing the bump on her nose. How did she break such a pretty nose? And when had she broken it? He had so many questions to ask her, so much he didn’t know about her that he wanted to know. “Cat?” he said softly. “Can you hear me? It’s Slade. I’ve come for you. I want you to fight back.” His fingers tightened against hers as he reluctantly straightened up. He blinked. Was he imagining things, or had her lashes fluttered in response to his hushed request?
    * * *
    When Cat awoke, she was clear at once as to where she was. The murmuring of the equipment caught her attention first. Then she forced open her weighted lids. She became aware of the broken snore of a man nearby. And then she felt the warm, callused fingers that enclosed her hand. Despite the pain, Cat turned her head to the right. Her eyes widened. Slade Donovan lay slumped in a chair, snoring, his chin sagging toward his chest and his hand gripping hers. A flood of warmth coursed through her and Cat closed her eyes. She was alive. Slade had dragged her back from the depths of the mine.
    Her voice cracked when she tried to call his name. Cat used what little strength she had in her hand and squeezed Slade’s fingers. She watched him awaken from the heavy sleep. Her heart wrenched as she saw the darkness shadowing his red-rimmed eyes. His face was gaunt and she saw the stress plainly carved on the stubbled, angular planes of his face.
    Slade blinked, his hand tightening on her fingers. “Cat?” He whispered her name unbelievingly. Standing, he leaned over the bed, one hand cupping her cheek as he gazed disbelievingly into her barely opened eyes. “I’ll be damned, you’re awake.”
    She gave him a weak smile. “I-is this a dream?”
    Slade laughed unsurely, his blue eyes burning fiercely with happiness. “If it is, sweetheart, then we’re dreaming together.” He reached over and pressed a buzzer to alert the nurse’s desk. “Hold on, there’s a whole passel of doctors who are anxious to see you awake.”
    Cat was thirsty, her mouth gummy. “What about my family?”
    “They’re here, waiting for you to open those beautiful emerald eyes of yours.” He pressed a kiss to her cool, damp brow. “Welcome back to the world of the living. This calls for one hell of a celebration.”
    * * *
    In the next two days, Slade was absorbed into the Kincaid clan. He ate with the family and shared rooms with them at a local motel. At breakfast on the third morning, Sam Kincaid sat with his family, a frown marring his features.
    “Dr. Scott says Cat will need a place to recuperate. He’s worried about her concussion and thinks she ought to be under some kind of supervision for at least eight weeks.” Sam gave his wife a tender look. “With your hip operation coming up in two weeks, we won’t be able to give Cat the care she needs.”
    Rafe’s mouth twisted. “I’ve got the room; it’s just the timing, Dad. We’ve had these Bureau of Land Mines investigations going on for the past few months, and they’ve thrown off our schedule for a while. Family comes first. I’ll take Cat in; she’s more important. If I made the time for the BLM, I can sure as hell make time for my sister.”
    Slade suddenly brightened. “I can help. I think, under the circumstances, Cat would be better off with me.” The corners of Rafe’s mouth turned down and Slade knew instinctively that Rafe felt this was strictly a family matter; outsiders weren’t needed. Slade directed the remainder of his proposal to Rafe to win his