Matt rubbed his jaw, fighting the urge to say something nasty. Sarah just smiled her little Mona Lisa smile, unaffected by the comment. She knew people generally meant no harm when they said things like that, and taking remarks in stride was simply part of being Amish.

“You don't want to forget this,” Matt said, holding out Mrs. Parkers pearl-handled pistol and ammunition.

“Oh, heavens no! I couldn't leave Li'l Ab-ner!” She smiled at the gun as if it were a favorite pet and tucked it into the depths of her handbag. “Tim gave him to me our first Christmas together.”

Matt stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Isn't that sweet.”

Lisbeth waved a hand and gave them a coy look. “He's like that, the big ol' darlin'. I'd best get on out to the car now before he loses his patience and starts in on that horn. It plays the Texas Aggie fight song. Drives me right out of my mind.”

“Really?” Matt said, eyes alight. He winced as Sarah gave his arm a sharp pinch.

Lisbeth bid them farewell again as she turned and pranced out the front door, fox tails swinging. Matt rubbed his palms together and started after her. “Come on. Well finally get to see if there really is a Tim.”

Sarah grabbed his arm and held him back. “No! It's more fun not knowing.”

Matt was incredulous. “Are you kidding? That woman and her invisible man have been driving me crazy all weekend!”

Laughing, Sarah tugged him into the parlor doorway so he wouldn't be tempted to peek out the window in the front door. She held onto his hand as she leaned back against the wide frame. “The mystery is more fun than the knowing would be.”

“You think so?” Matt let the Parkers slip from his mind as he snuggled closer to Sarah, flanking her legs with his. He settled his hands on her waist, rubbing his thumbs lightly in a circular motion against her. “I don't know. You were a mystery to me, but getting to know you has been a hell of a lot more enjoyable than just wondering.”

Sarah blushed prettily. They had spent a second night together in Matt's bed, but she still felt shy with him. “Such language,' she teased. “My father would wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Would he?” He slid his hands upward, just brushing the heavy underswell of her breasts. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. “What would he do to me for taking liberties with his daughter?”

She didn't answer. With her eyes still squeezed shut, she threw her arms around his neck, raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Matt didn't argue. He couldn't get enough of the taste of her or the feel of her against him. He wrapped his arms around her and returned her kiss, making love to her with his mouth.

“Let's go back to bed,” he whispered, licking her earlobe.

“It's the middle of the afternoon,” Sarah said, but it was more an observation than a protest. Her knees had gone weak at his suggestion.

“It's night somewhere,” Matt muttered, planting kisses along her jaw, working his way back to her mouth. 'I think it's night in England. Well pretend we're in England.”

'I've always wanted to go there,” Sarah whispered, letting her mind clutch at dreams and desires, pushing reality aside.

There was a sudden bang in the front hall and a voice called out cheerily, “I'm ba-ack!”

Matt and Sarah bolted apart, Sarah ducking into the parlor to check her appearance in a mirror. Matt brushed the back of a hand across his mouth then stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers in an effort to hide the fact that he was half-turned-on. Another minute and he might have taken Sarah where they stood. Wouldn't that have been a nifty way to welcome his sister back.

Ingrid dropped her enormous suitcase at the foot of the stairs and gave him a shrewd look. “I see you're up and around.”

Heat crept into his cheeks, but he managed to maintain a poker face. “Yes, I'm feeling much better. Good to see you home, sis.” He bent and dutifully kissed the cheek she presented him. “Is everything all right up in Stillwater now? We weren't expecting you back for another day or two.”

“Dorothy's husband was doing much better than they had first thought he would,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of her oversize red sweater. She stuck a hand into the pocket of her snug black stirrup pants, dug out a note, checked it, nodded, folded it, and put it back all without breaking stride in the conversation. “They sent him home today. We didn't have any guests booked until Thursday, and Dorothy figured by then she would be more than ready to get back to work. So, here I am.”

Ingrid heaved a sigh up into her fashionable tumble of black bangs and planted her hands on her slim hips. Three years older than Matt, she still thought of herself as Big Sister, despite the differences in their size. She was a tiny woman with a pixie's face and big dark eyes, but what she lacked in stature she made up for in energy and determination. Matt had long thought she had enough electricity in her to light up half of St. Paul.

She looked at him now with the critical eye of an art expert, her dark eyes taking in every aspect of his face, then moving down over his blue shirt and tan chinos, all the way to the tips of his sneakers and back up again. When she got back to his face she wore an expression of mingled anxiety and relief.

'It is so good to see you on your feet,” she said, her voice suspiciously thick. “You don't know how afraid I was of losing you.”

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a brotherly hug. “You can't get rid of me that easily.”

“Hello, Ingrid. Welcome back,' Sarah said, emerging from the parlor, cheeks still rosy with a blush, hands fussing with the folds of her black apron. She cast a quick, shy glance at Matt.

“Sarah” Ingrid disengaged from Matt's embrace and immediately hugged her friend and employee. “How did everything go? Lets go into the kitchen and have some tea and you two can tell me all about your adventures. Did anything exciting happen?”

She was already moving toward the kitchen with her brisk efficient stride, snatching up a stack of mail from the desk along the way.

“Just the usual,” Matt said. “A little gunplay, a small fire. Nothing to brag about.”

“Yeah, right,” Ingrid said on a laugh as she shuffled through her mail and pushed the kitchen door open with her hip.

Sarah gave Matt a look. He just shrugged.

Over cookies and tea they told the tale of the Mortons and Lisbeth Parker. Matt offered to pay for the sofa as well as what Ingrid had lost when the Mortons had checked out, but she wouldn't hear of it. She said her insurance would cover the damage to the sofa and as for the Mortons, she could do without the money of people who insulted her friends.

Matt went on to relate all of Blossom s sins. Ingrid listened, smiling benignly, like a mother who was too blind to realize her much-adored child was a monster.

“And to top it off,” Matt said, lifting an accusatory finger, “one of my favorite Loafers is missing. In fact, a number of shoes have disappeared.”

“Really?” Ingrid said, the light of excitement in her eyes. “I wonder if she's making a nest somewhere. She's due to have puppies in a week or so.”

Thunderstruck, Matt stared at his sister. “You mean you're going to have more of them?”

“Of course!” Ingrid leaned down and hefted the unwieldly dog onto her lap. Blossom settled herself, breaking into a big doggy grin Matt thought looked suspiciously smug. Ingrid rubbed the dog's ears and spoke to her in the childish way some adults used with babies. “We just love our Blossom, don't we?”

Blossom let out a little woof.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Jeez, Ingrid, get a life.”

Ingrid ignored him, turning her attention to Sarah. “Sarah, I know it's not a church Sunday, but if you want to go visit your family, please feel free. I can handle the big guy here.”

Matt scowled. Sarah sent him a little smile. She knew she should take Ingrid's suggestion and go to see her parents and siblings, but the truth was she didn't want to spend any time away from Matt. He was staying only for a short while; her family would always be there. “Actually, I thought I would just stick around here today, but I should go out and see to my chores,'

She started for the back door and Matt rose as well. “Ill go out with you.”

“No, Matt,” Ingrid said, her voice pleasant enough, but there was a glint of steel in her gaze that made him frown. “Stay with me. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

He settied back into his chair and watched as Ingrid put Blossom down and casually went to the window to look out at Sarah crossing the yard.

“I had a chat with your local doctor—I use the term loosely,” he said. “I can't believe people actually line up to put their lives in his hands.”

“They don't have a choice,” Ingrid said, returning to her chair. “The next nearest doctor is thirty miles away.”

“That's frightening.”

“You don't know the half of it. Matt, good doctors don't want to locate in rural areas like this and you can well imagine why. The money isn't great, the hours stink, there's no prestige, no fancy country club to join, nothing to aspire to.”

“Who wants to be a general practitioner when he can specialize and pull down twice the bucks.”

“You said it, not me. Consequently, towns like Jesse end up with doctors like Coswell.”

“I wouldn't send Blossom to that guy.”

“Neither would I. Thankfully, since this is prime farm country, our veterinarians are excellent.”

Matt shook his head at the shame of it—a town where the people would have been better off being treated by the horse doctor. He nibbled thoughtfully on a chocolate chip cookie.

“I think you know what I want to talk to you about,” Ingrid said quietly, her manner instantly changing the tone of the conversation. Her fingers toyed with a small envelope, turning it around and around in her hands, but her attention was solely on her brother.

Matt could feel her gaze on him, but he didn't look up. He loved his sister, but he didn't much care for being made to feel like he was twelve all over again. He put his cookie down and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “What?”

“Sarah.”

“What about her?”

“I'm not blind, Matt. She looks at you like you can walk on water.”

He turned toward her then, his gaze calm and clear. “This is none of your business, Ingrid.” His tone was soft and level, but the warning was unmistakable.

“Isn't it?” Ingrid put the envelope down and leaned forward over the table. “Sarah is my friend as well as my employee. I care about what happens to her. I don't want to see her get hurt, Matt.”

“What makes you think I intend to hurt her?”

“I don't think you intend to hurt her, but that's what's going to happen. I know you, Matt. Your head is easily turned. You've been cooped up in this house with only Sarah for company. She's a bright, sweet, pretty girl—”

“She's a woman, Ingrid, not some kid in pigtails,” he interrupted, resenting the implication that he would take advantage of an innocent child, even though innocent was a word he had used himself to describe Sarah.

“Be that as it may,” Ingrid said, not backing down in the least. “She's not the kind of woman you're used to. She's not someone you can just play with, Matt.”

Matt gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “Boy, you certainly have a high opinion of me all of a sudden!”

Ingrid closed her eyes briefly, sighed, then tried again. “I'm not being critical. I know your career comes first with you and that's fine. The women you've been involved with know it too. I just don't think Sarah will understand those kinds of rules.”

“Well maybe I'm not just playing with her. Has that thought occurred to you, Ingrid?” he said in a voice low and rough with emotion. He stared his sister in the eye and made what was probably the biggest confession of his life. “Maybe I'm in love with her.”

Ingrid looked at him long and hard, trying to judge just how serious his “maybe” was. Her look softened, and she reached for his hand. He snatched it away from her and pushed himself out of his chair, going to stare out the back window.

“You've known each other only a matter of days,” she said gently.

“Excuse me. Did I say this made sense?” he asked sardonically, his brows lifting in exaggerated question. “I don't recall saying that, but as long as we're on the subject, how long did you know John before you were certain you wanted to marry him?”