her wildly. What sort of beast had a cry that sounded so… human? And how close by was it? One minute passed, then another. When nothing leaped at her from the shadows, fangs bared, claws outstretched, she slowly began to relax again. At last, she decided that whatever animal had made that noise was far enough away to not be a worry.
Settling back against the trunk of an ancient pine, she again stared down at the ranch house below. The soft, welcoming glow of the lamplight seemed like a golden path laid out for her to follow. Spirals of smoke drifted up from one of the chimneys, carrying the scent of roasting meat and burning wood.
Hannah sniffed the air wistfully, then took a bite of the apple she'd purchased in town. If all went well, she would be in that house tomorrow and she could begin her campaign to win the Mackenzie's heart.
Chapter Three
When the knock on the front door came just as dawn was brushing the sky with soft shades of lavender and rose. Jonas wasn't even surprised.
After all hadn't she warned him she'd be back today?
He crossed the room in a few long steps and threw the door open in time to be met by Hannah's still-raised fist.
Quietly he jerked his head back out of range. She lowered her hand and laughed gently.
"Sorry," she said.
"Somehow," Jonas admitted on a sigh, "I knew it would be you."
She smiled at him, and damned if that smile wasn't even brighter than he'd remembered it to be. He'd been up all night and felt like he'd been dragged behind a running horse through the halls of hell, and she looked fresh as a spring rain.
Her cat mewed suggestively. He looked down in time to watch it sashay past him, pausing only long enough to rub the length of its body against his shins.
He'd forgotten about the blamed cat.
"Good morning," Hannah said and followed her feline inside. He watched her jaw drop as she let her gaze wander around the small, cluttered room. "Oh, my heavens," she whispered as she took a good long look.
He closed the door, turned around, and let himself see the place through her eyes. He understood her soft moan of distress. The dark, smoke-stained walls were split logs with white chinking running like wide stripes between them. A river-stone fireplace took up one whole wall and there were two battered chairs and a short horsehair sofa pulled up in front of it. Four narrow windows let in the growing sunlight through filthy panes of glass and everything from dirty clothes to saddle harnesses were strewn across the hardwood floor.
The cat plopped its behind down in a relatively open spot and immediately started licking its paws in an insult obvious even to Mac.
Rubbing one hand across the back of his neck, he scowled at the mess and wondered how it had gotten so out of hand. Hell, he hardly spent enough time in the room to dirty it, yet somehow it looked as though a tornado had set down square in its center. He bent down to pick up a discarded shirt, then realized it wouldn't make much difference and let it lay.
The cat he ignored.
"It's a… sturdy-looking place," Hannah said.
A tight smile touched his face briefly. Sturdy. Well, it was that, anyway. The roof was sound and he'd made sure the log walls were fit tight to withstand a Wyoming winter. But he knew she'd had to search her mind desperately to find something nice to say.
A curl of shame unwound inside him until he stiffened his spine against the feeling. What did he care that his house was a mess? Or that Hannah Lowell looked as though she wanted to hike her skirts to avoid her dress brushing against the dirty floor? Or that even her blasted animal seemed to be looking down its nose at him?
He hadn't invited them here, had he? And it wasn't as though he had a stream of visitors day in and day out. As busy as he was, he hardly got into town more than once a month, so he damn sure wasn't spending his time socializing with his neighbors… who were just as damned busy as he was anyway.
All he expected out of his
Settling back against the trunk of an ancient pine, she again stared down at the ranch house below. The soft, welcoming glow of the lamplight seemed like a golden path laid out for her to follow. Spirals of smoke drifted up from one of the chimneys, carrying the scent of roasting meat and burning wood.
Hannah sniffed the air wistfully, then took a bite of the apple she'd purchased in town. If all went well, she would be in that house tomorrow and she could begin her campaign to win the Mackenzie's heart.
Chapter Three
When the knock on the front door came just as dawn was brushing the sky with soft shades of lavender and rose. Jonas wasn't even surprised.
After all hadn't she warned him she'd be back today?
He crossed the room in a few long steps and threw the door open in time to be met by Hannah's still-raised fist.
Quietly he jerked his head back out of range. She lowered her hand and laughed gently.
"Sorry," she said.
"Somehow," Jonas admitted on a sigh, "I knew it would be you."
She smiled at him, and damned if that smile wasn't even brighter than he'd remembered it to be. He'd been up all night and felt like he'd been dragged behind a running horse through the halls of hell, and she looked fresh as a spring rain.
Her cat mewed suggestively. He looked down in time to watch it sashay past him, pausing only long enough to rub the length of its body against his shins.
He'd forgotten about the blamed cat.
"Good morning," Hannah said and followed her feline inside. He watched her jaw drop as she let her gaze wander around the small, cluttered room. "Oh, my heavens," she whispered as she took a good long look.
He closed the door, turned around, and let himself see the place through her eyes. He understood her soft moan of distress. The dark, smoke-stained walls were split logs with white chinking running like wide stripes between them. A river-stone fireplace took up one whole wall and there were two battered chairs and a short horsehair sofa pulled up in front of it. Four narrow windows let in the growing sunlight through filthy panes of glass and everything from dirty clothes to saddle harnesses were strewn across the hardwood floor.
The cat plopped its behind down in a relatively open spot and immediately started licking its paws in an insult obvious even to Mac.
Rubbing one hand across the back of his neck, he scowled at the mess and wondered how it had gotten so out of hand. Hell, he hardly spent enough time in the room to dirty it, yet somehow it looked as though a tornado had set down square in its center. He bent down to pick up a discarded shirt, then realized it wouldn't make much difference and let it lay.
The cat he ignored.
"It's a… sturdy-looking place," Hannah said.
A tight smile touched his face briefly. Sturdy. Well, it was that, anyway. The roof was sound and he'd made sure the log walls were fit tight to withstand a Wyoming winter. But he knew she'd had to search her mind desperately to find something nice to say.
A curl of shame unwound inside him until he stiffened his spine against the feeling. What did he care that his house was a mess? Or that Hannah Lowell looked as though she wanted to hike her skirts to avoid her dress brushing against the dirty floor? Or that even her blasted animal seemed to be looking down its nose at him?
He hadn't invited them here, had he? And it wasn't as though he had a stream of visitors day in and day out. As busy as he was, he hardly got into town more than once a month, so he damn sure wasn't spending his time socializing with his neighbors… who were just as damned busy as he was anyway.
All he expected out of his
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