“I'm trying to convince you that it's not too late to fall in love again. Look at them, when they started out, they were older than we are now. They had to be.”

“Yeah…”But he didn't sound convinced. And then he turned his eyes back to her with a pensive expression. “What difference does it make to you if I ever fall in love again?”

“I'd like to know that it's possible.”

“Why? Are you doing research for science?”

“No,” she whispered. “For myself.”

“So that's it.” He ran a hand gently down her pale blond mane, fighting with the pins that held it firmly in the knot at the nape of her neck, and then suddenly he unleashed it and it all came tumbling down her back. “My God, your hair is lovely, Sam… palomino…” He said it ever so softly. “Little palomino… how beautiful you are…” The sun glinted in the window and danced among the gold threads in her hair.

“We should go back now.” She said it gently but firmly.

“Should we?”

“We should.”

“Why?” His lips were kissing her chin and her jawbone and her neck. She wasn't objecting, but she was also not going to let him go any farther than that. “Why should we go back now, Sam? Oh, God, you're so lovely…” She could feel a shiver run through him, and she pulled away slowly with a small shake of her head.

“No, Tate.”

“Why not?” For a moment there was fire in his eyes, and she was almost afraid.

“Because it's not right.”

“For chrissake, I'm a man, you're a woman… we're not children here. What do you want?” He raised his voice in lustful irritation. “The perfect romance, a wedding ring on your finger before you go to bed?”

“What do you want, cowboy? Just a quick roll in the hay?” The force of her words hit him like a bullet, and he looked stunned as slowly he shook his head.

“I'm sorry.” He spoke coldly and then moved to the sink to wash their cups. But when he had finished, she was still standing there, watching him, and she spoke up.

“I'm not sorry. I like you. In fact”-she reached out and put a hand on his arm-“I like you a hell of a lot. But I don't want to get hurt next time.”

“You can't have the kind of guarantees you want, Sam. Not from anyone. And not from me. The only guarantees you'll ever get are lies.” There was some truth in that and she knew it, but it wasn't just the promises she wanted but something real.

“You know what I want?” She looked around at the cabin as she asked the question. “I want this. I want this kind of meshing and blending and loving after more than twenty years.”

“You think they were so sure of that in the beginning? You think they knew then what they do now? Hell no. She owned the ranch and he was a ranch hand. That was all they knew.”

“You think so?” Samantha's eyes exploded sparks at him. “You know what else I'll bet they knew then?”

“What?”

“I'll bet they knew they were in love. And until I find that, until a man loves me and I love him, then I'm not coming out to play again.”

He opened the door and locked it behind them. “Come on.” But she had seen as she walked past him that he wasn't angry. He had understood all that she had told him, and she found herself wondering what he would do now, and what she would do herself. For a moment, just a moment, she had wanted to abandon all restraint and caution, but she had decided not to. Not because she didn't want him, but because she wanted him so much. Tate Jordan was one hell of a man.

“Can we come back here?” She eyed him squarely as he cupped his hands and offered her a leg up to the huge Thoroughbred horse.

“Do you really want to?”

She nodded slowly, and he smiled at her and said nothing. She took the leg up and flew into her saddle. A moment later she had the reins in her hands, her heels in the horse's flanks, and she was flying beside Tate Jordan into the wind.

11

Have a nice ride, dear?” Caroline looked at her benevolently as Samantha strode into the living room, her hair loose, her face flushed, her eyes bright. She looked like a vision of youth and health and beauty, and Caroline couldn't help envying her a little as she watched the young limbs coil into a comfortable chair.

“Very, thanks, Aunt Caro.” She was dying to tell her that she had seen their cabin, but she knew she couldn't. But still the excitement lingered. From that and the kiss she and Tate had shared in Black Beauty's stall. It had been a kiss that seared her very edges and reached into the nether regions of her soul. He was a man different from any other, more powerful and more independent and more alluring than any she had ever known or ever would.

“See anyone this morning?” It was a casual question, born of thirty years of almost communal living on a large ranch. Not a single hour went by that one didn't hang out with someone, talk about something, and hear something about someone else.

Sam had been about to say “No one,” and then decided to tell Caroline the truth. “I saw Tate Jordan.”

“Oh.” It was a very small word without any great emphasis or interest. “How is Santa Claus after last night? The kids sure enjoy him every year.”

Sam was tempted to say “So do I,” but didn't dare say it. “They should. He's a very nice man.”

“You mean you've relented? You don't hate him anymore?”

“I never did.” She tried to look casual as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “We just didn't see eye to eye over my ability to ride your horse.”

“And he's changed his mind?” Samantha nodded with a grin of satisfaction. “No wonder you like him. How heartily we approve of those who approve of us. He's a good man though, no matter what he may have said about your riding Black Beauty. He knows this ranch every bit as well as Bill and I.” Every bit… even the cabin, Samantha found herself thinking and had to take a sip of coffee so as not to smile.

“What are you doing today, Aunt Caro?”

“The books, as usual.”

“On Christmas?” Samantha looked shocked.

Caroline nodded dutifully. “On Christmas.”

“Why don't we have Christmas dinner instead?”

“As I recall,” Caroline said, looking at her with amusement, “we already did that last night.”

“That was different. That was everyone. Why don't you and I cook dinner today for Bill King and Tate?” Caroline eyed her very hard for a moment and then shook her head.

“I don't really think that would work.”

“Why not?”

Caroline sighed softly. “Because they're ranch hands, Samantha, and we're not. There really is a very definite hierarchy on a ranch.”