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something like awe. This was
Clint-Clint, who teased her and tormented her, who was as
much a part of her childhood as the ranch, the horses, Janna. But
it had never been like this, not in all her wild young imaginings.
He was a man, older than she, experienced, confident. And her
inexperience was no match for the hunger she read in his face.
    "And now," he whispered roughly, bending his dark head, "now I'm
going to teach you sensations you never knew you could feel, little innocent. I'm going to show you how to be a
woman…"
    She was trembling, helpless as she waited breathlessly to feel
his hard, chiseled mouth on hers. She started to speak, to
say something, anything, just as the patio door opened and broke
the spell.
    She felt the shudder run through Clint's hard body as he
released her and dove under the water. Brent came running,
his bare feet thudding on the wet concrete, and dove into the water
with a resounding splash.
    Maggie went riding with Brent the next day when she finished
Clint's terse correspondence, which he left for her on the
Dictaphone.
    "I love this place," Brent said with a smile, drinking in the
lush green forest around them. "I spent a lot of my childhood
here."
    She smiled, too. "So did I. Janna and I used to play cowboys and
Indians here, re-member? Once we ambushed you from the top of one of those
pines."
    "And got ticks, both of you," he remembered gleefully.
    She shuddered. "It was awful!"
    "No doubt." He stopped and looked down at her, frowning. "What
got into Clint last night?" he asked suddenly.
    She felt the blush rising, and averted her face. "Bad temper,"
she said flatly, remembering how he'd left the pool without a
backward glance just after Brent's return. He had left the house
not long afterward, and it had been early morning before
Maggie heard the car return. By the time she and Brent got to
the breakfast table, he was already at work. She closed her eyes on
the memory of what he'd been about to do-what she'd almost let him
do. She could still see his hard mouth poised just above hers, feel
his warm, smoky breath mingling with her own. She'd wanted that
kiss so much that it was like being torn apart when Brent had
interrupted them.
    But it was better this way, she reminded herself. Clint had all
the women he needed, that was obvious. He liked to humiliate
her, anyway, so she should have been better armored. Perhaps now
that Brent was here…
    "Where are you?" Brent asked, waving a hand in front of her
eyes.
    She glanced at him with wide eyes. "Mars," she whispered
theatrically, "out there! Exploring strange and exotic places with
my mind!"
    He grinned. "Why not try exploring me with your lips?" he
leered, raising and lowering his eyebrows for effect.
    She burst out laughing and let Melody flow into step beside his
horse. "You're just what I needed. Oh, I'm so glad you came!"
    "I'm glad
you
are," he replied.
    "What do you mean?"
    He glanced at her speculatively. "I mean, Cousin Clint isn't.
Look out, my long-ago leading lady. Clint in action is a force to
behold."
    "I don't understand."
    "He wants you," he told her nonchalantly.
    Her heart stopped, then started again. "He's only playing games,
Brent. Lida ripped at his pride and…"
    "He wants you," he repeated quietly. "I've never seen him look
at a woman exactly that way before, but the intent is all too
familiar. I wouldn't like to see you hurt."
    His concern was comforting. She reached out and touched his thin
arm. "I don't want to see me hurt, either," she said with a smile.
"I've got both eyes wide open. I'm not burying my head in the
sand."
    He shook his head, smiling back. "My sweet, you've been in love
with him most of your life, pseudo-fiances notwithstanding.
He may not see it, but I do."
    She chewed on her bottom lip, staring down at the pommel of her saddle. "I thought Philip
would…"
    "…Compensate?" he finished for her. "You knew better, didn't
you? Maggie, you shouldn't have come here."
    She laughed softly. "It's a