Curious, she walked closer, keeping some distance only because she wasn't entirely sure cows were as friendly as they looked. But when they didn't seem the least concerned with her, she moved closer.

And heard him singing.

"One for the morning glory, two for the early dew, three for the man who stands his ground and four for the love of you..."

Delighted with the sound, Rebecca moved to the doorway and had her first glimpse of a milking parlor.

Whatever she'd imagined, it wasn't this organized, oddly technical environment. There were big, shiny pipes and large chutes, the mechanical hum of a compressor or some other type of machine. A dozen cows stood in stanchions, eating contentedly from individual troughs. Some of them munched on grain as devices that looked like clever octopuses relieved them of their milk.

And Shane, stripped down to one of those undeniably sexy undershirts, a battered cap stuffed onto all that wonderful, wild hair, moved among them, still singing, or dropping into a whistle, as he checked feed or the progress of the milking machines.

"Okay, sweetie, all done."

Caught up in the process, Rebecca stepped closer. "How does that work?"

He swore ripely, bumping the cow hard enough to have her moo in annoyance. The look he aimed at Rebecca was not one of friendly welcome.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. It's noisy." She tried a smile, and forced herself not to take a step in retreat. "I was out walking, and I saw the cows out there, and I wondered what was going on."

"The same thing that goes on around here twice a day, every day." It was an effort for him to readjust himself. He'd planned to avoid her for a few days, but here she was, pretty as a picture with those big, curious eyes, right in his milking parlor.

"But how do you manage it all by yourself? There are so many of them."

"I don't always do it alone. Anyway, it's automated, for the most part." Deftly he removed inflations from udders.

"Where does the milk go? Through the pipes, I imagine."

"That's right." He bit back a sigh. He didn't much feel like giving her a class in Milking 101. He felt like kissipg the breath out of her. "From cow to pipes and into tanks in the milk house." He gestured vaguely. "It keeps it at the proper temperature until the milk truck pumps it out. I have to take these girls back to the loafing shed."

"Loafing shed?"

He did smile now, just a little. "That's where they loaf, before and after."

Rebecca made way, perhaps a bit more than necessary, as he herded the milked cows out. She wondered how he kept them straight, the ones still to be milked, the ones who had been. And when he herded more in, she realized the answer was obvious.

Their bags were huge. She muffled a giggle as he moved them into place. With approval for the efficiency and organization of the system she watched him pull a lever that poured grain from chutes to troughs.

"So they feed and milk at the same time."

"Food's the incentive." He paid little attention to her as he went about his business. "They eat, you milk half of them. You milk the other half while you set up the next group."

Quickly, and with little fuss, he hooked his new stock into their stanchions. "These are inflations. They go over the teats, do the work that used to be done by hand. You can milk a hell of a lot more cows a hell of a lot faster this way than with your fingers and a bucket."

"It must be more sanitary. And you use that solution—some sort of antiseptic, I suppose—on their..."

"Bags, honey. You call them bags." He nodded. "You want grade A milk, you have to meet the standards."

"How is the milk graded?" she began, then stopped herself. "Sorry. Too many questions. I'm in your way."

"Yeah, you are." But, as the machines did their work, he stepped toward her. "What are you doing here, Rebecca?"

"I told you, I was out walking."

He lifted a brow, hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. "And you decided to visit with the cows?"

"I didn't have a plan."

"I think it's safe to say you usually do."

"All right." He was, of course, on target, no matter what she'd told herself when she started through the woods. "I suppose I felt we'd left something unresolved. I don't want things to be difficult with you, since I'm dealing with so much of your family while I'm here."

"Um-hmm..." He wasn't precisely sure which side of her he was dealing with at the moment. "I was pushy. Do you want an apology?"

"Unnecessary."

That made him smile again. He had a growing affection for that cocky tilt to her chin. "Want to try it again? I've got an urge to kiss you right now."

"I'm sure you have an urge to kiss any woman, just about anytime."

"Yeah. But you're here."

"I'll let you know if and when I want you to kiss me." As a means of defense, she turned, wandered, frowned intently at a container labeled Udder Balm. "The problem I have is that as long as we have this..."

"Attraction?" he put in. "Lust?"

"Tension," she snapped back. "It makes it difficult for me to follow through on my plan to work here. I do want to work here," she said, turning to him again. "But I can't if I'm going to have to deflect unsolicited advances."

"Unsolicited advances." Instead of being annoyed, he nearly doubled over with laughter. "Damn, Rebecca, I love the way you talk when you're being snotty. Say something else."

"I'm sure you're more used to women keeling over at your feet,'' she said coldly. ''Or bringing you peach pies. I just want to be certain that you clearly understand the word no."

He didn't find anything amusing about that. She had the fascinating experience of watching his grin turn into a snarl. "You said no last night, didn't you?"

"My point is— "

"I could have had you, right there on my brother's kitchen floor."

The color that temper had brought to her cheeks faded away, but her voice remained steady and cool. "You overestimate your appeal, farm boy."

"Watch your step, Becky," he said quietly. "I've got a mean streak. You want to dissolve some tension so you can get on with your project. I've always found honesty goes a long way to cutting the tension. You wanted me every bit as much as I wanted you. Maybe you were surprised. Maybe I was, too, but that's the fact."

She opened her mouth, but found no suitable lies tripping onto her tongue. "All right. I won't deny I was interested for a moment."

"Honey, what you were was a long way up from interested."

"Don't tell me what I felt, or what I feel. I will tell you that if you think I'm going to be another notch on your bedpost, think again."

"Fine." In casual dismissal, he walked over to check on his cows. 'Wo isn't a word I have any problem understanding. As long as you actually say it, I'll understand it."

Most of her nerves smoothed out. "All right, then, we-"

"But you'd better keep your guard up, Rebecca." He shot her a look that had all the nerves doubling back and sizzling. "Because I don't have any problem understanding a challenge, either. You want to play ghost hunter in my house, you take your chances. Willing to risk it?"

"You don't worry me."

His smile spread, slowly this time. "Yeah, I do. You're standing there right now wondering what in hell to do about me."

"Actually, I was wondering how you manage to walk around upright, when you're weighed down with that ego."

"Practice." Now he grinned. "Same way you manage it with all those heavy thoughts inside that head of yours. I'm just about finished up here. Why don't you go on in, make us some coffee? We can talk about this some more."

"I think we've covered it." She moved just quickly enough to get out ahead of him. "And I don't make coffee."

For a skinny woman, he mused, she looked mighty nice walking away. "Don't you want me to kiss you goodbye, sweetie?"

She tossed a look over her shoulder. "Kiss a cow, farm boy."

He couldn't resist. He was on her in a heartbeat, swinging her up into his arms and around in a dizzying circle while his laughter roared out. "You're the cutest damn thing."

Her breath had been lost somewhere during the first revolution. For an instant, all she could think was that his arms were as hard as rock, and felt absolutely wonderful. "I thought you understood no,"

"I'm not kissing you, am I?" All innocence, Shane's eyes laughed into hers. "Unless you want me to. Just wanted to get a hold of you for a minute. I swear you weigh less than a sack of grain."

"Thank you so much for that poetic compliment. Put me down."

"You've really got to eat more. Why don't you hang around? I'll fix you some dinner."

"No," she said. "No, no, no."

"You only have to say it once." He cocked his head, enjoying the way the pulse in her throat beat like a bird's, just above the open collar of her silky white shirt. "Why are you trembling?"

"I'm angry."

"No, you're not." Intrigued now, he studied her face, and his voice gentled. "Did somebody hurt you?"

"No, of course not. I asked you to put me down."

"I'm going to. If I did what I wanted and carried you inside right now, I'd neglect my cows and break my word. I wouldn't want to do either." So he set her on her feet, but kept his hands on her shoulders. "It seems to me we've got something going here."

"I'd prefer to take my own time deciding that."

"That's fair." Because he was becoming fond of it, he skimmed a finger over her hair, tugged on one of the short, soft tresses. "It occurs to me that I've already decided. I really want you. Not being a psychiatrist or a heavy thinker, I don't have to analyze that or look for hidden meanings. I just feel it."

His eyes, green and dreamy, lowered to hers again, and held. "I want to take you to bed, and I want to make love with you. And I want it more every time I get near you. You can put that into your equation."

"I will." It was a struggle to concentrate when his hands were moving in gentle circles on her shoulders. "But it's not the only factor. Things would be... a lot less convoluted if we could back off from this while I'm getting my project under way."

"Less convoluted," he agreed, amused by the word. "And less fun."

Fun, she thought, feeling herself yearn toward him. It was a novel and interesting concept, when at-. tached to intimacy.

He watched her lips curve just a little, felt her body soften, saw her eyes deepen. A knot of need twisted in him as he drew her closer. "Pretty Rebecca," he murmured, "let me show you—"

He could have committed murder when a sharp blast of a horn shattered the moment.

She stiffened, stepped back, as both of them looked over at the dusty compact that pulled up in front of the house. Rebecca had a clear view of the sulky-mouthed brunette who poked her gorgeous head out of the window.

"Shane, honey, I told you I'd try to drop by."

He lifted a hand in a casual wave, even as he felt the temperature surrounding him drop to the subzero range. "Ah, that's Darla. She's a friend of mine."

"I bet." The chip was back on Rebecca's shoulder, and it was the size of a redwood. She cocked a brow and curved her lips mockingly. He didn't have to know the mockery was for herself. "Don't let me keep you from your...friend, Shane, honey. I'm sure you're a very busy boy."

"Look, damn it—"

Darla called out again, her husky voice a little impatient. Shane saw, with unaccustomed panic, that she was getting out of the car. With anyone else, the meeting would have been easy, even amusing. With Rebecca, he had a feeling it would be deadly. She'd eat Darla for breakfast.

"Listen, I—"

"I don't have time to look, or to listen," Rebecca said, interrupting him, desperately afraid she'd make a fool of herself in front of the stunning woman picking her way over the lawn in thin high heels. "I have work to do. You and Darla have a nice visit."

She strode off, leaving Shane caught between the willing and the wanted.

Chapter Six

During her stay at the inn, Rebecca had established a pattern. She rose early enough to join the other guests for breakfast. It wasn't the food, as marvelous as Cassie's cooking was, that nudged her out of bed and downstairs. She wanted the opportunity to interview her companions under the guise of a breezy morning chat.

It was work for her to keep it casual, not to fall into the habits of analyst or scientist. She'd been rewarded over coffee and waffles that morning by a young couple who both claimed to have felt a presence in the bridal suite during the night.