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Kate Butler was both smart and beautiful. Heath had met a dozen women like her since his return from Europe. He enjoyed her company and her wit, but to this point their meetings had centered on business.

Last week, she'd lingered after a staff meeting with a question Heath was convinced she knew the answer to. It didn't take him long to figure out her
real
question. Was he interested? He decided it wouldn't hurt to find out.

“You taking her to dinner?” his grandmother wanted to know.

He nodded. “Any other advice?”

“Yes,” Lily said, and the fire was back in her eyes, “don't rush her into bed, understand? Things might have turned out differently with Rachel if you hadn't been so eager to step out of your pants.”

Heath couldn't keep from chuckling. His grandmother wasn't about to let him live down his mistake. Unfortunately she hadn't met Kate; otherwise, she'd have known that Kate Butler would welcome him into her arms
and
her bed. She was a woman who not only played the game, she was well aware of the score.

As it turned out, Heath had an enjoyable time with Kate, and felt pleased to discover there was more to her than the obvious. He chose a small, out-of-the-way Italian restaurant in Grand Forks. Later he wondered if his choice had been a subtle way of reminding himself that he was finished wasting time on Rachel.

They shared a bottle of chianti and a plate of fantastic antipasto. They fed each other huge Greek olives and both chose clam linguini. After more wine and conversation, Heath drove Kate back to her apartment.

“Do you want to come up for coffee?” she asked, her pretty blue eyes wide with invitation.

Heath hesitated, then decided why the hell not. “Sure,” he said, turning off the ignition.

On the ride up in the elevator, Kate leaned against the back wall and sighed expressively. “I can't remember when I've enjoyed an evening more.”

“Me, neither,” Heath said. Only he did remember, and that was the problem. He remembered all too well.

Kate led the way into her fifth-floor apartment, tossed her dainty purse onto the sofa and started for the kitchen. Then she paused, facing him. “Are you
sure
you want coffee?”

Talk about a woman with bedroom eyes.

“I was thinking more along the lines of dessert myself,” Kate whispered.

Heath suspected she wasn't talking about spumoni ice cream. “Really?”

“Am I shocking you, Heath?”

“Not at all.” Actually this was what he'd expected. What he'd been counting on, if truth be told.

Her smile was warm. “That's what I thought. We're both people who believe in going after what we want. I've made no attempt to hide the fact that I'm attracted to you.”

The woman didn't talk, she purred.

“Give me a couple of minutes to change into something more comfortable,” Kate suggested. “I promise you the wait will be worth it.”

Heath didn't doubt her for an instant. He loosened his tie and sat down, propping his feet on the ottoman. Now this was more like it! Kate was definitely a woman who knew how a man wanted to be treated. A woman who appreciated his needs and his desires.

Linking his hands behind his head, Heath happily anticipated Kate's return. She'd promised him it would be worth the wait and when she finally sauntered back into the room, he realized she was right.

She'd changed into a sheer, short gown of black-and-brown tigress spots. Her hair was free and reached halfway down the middle of her back. She revealed her long red nails and growled playfully. Oh, yeah, this woman was ready for a night in the jungle.

“Are you Jane?” he asked.

“Only if you're Tarzan.”

But at the moment, Heath felt a lot more like Cheetah than Tarzan. Something was wrong. At any other time in his life, he would have hauled her into his arms and raced toward the bedroom. Instead, he sat there like a lump, wondering why he felt more amused than beguiled. Beautiful as she was, Kate didn't tempt him. Yes, something was very wrong.

“Well,” Kate said, artfully modeling her outfit, “what do you think?”

“What do I think?” he repeated, embarrassed by his lack of response. “I'm not sure I should tell you.”

“Oh, please do.” She leaned forward to offer him a captivating view of her full breasts.

“I'm thinking I don't really know you,” he said, shocking himself once again. He'd changed since he'd come back from Europe—and this proved it. He'd fallen in love a dozen times or more during his years of travel. Returning to North Dakota, he'd buried his brother and taken over responsibility for one of the largest banking institutions in the state. He'd matured. No longer was he the rich playboy living on a whim.

“I'm giving you ample opportunity to know me just as well as you'd like,” Kate assured him.

It was all the answer he needed. He stood and kissed her politely. “I had a wonderful evening, Kate.”

“I did, too.” Her arms still around Heath, she studied him. Watching, waiting.

“But it's time for me to go home.”

Her head reared back. Her eyes were narrowed, her voice dubious. “If that's the way you feel.”

“It is.” He didn't want to be rude, nor was he making a moral judgment, but he found himself comparing Kate with Rachel. He couldn't help it.

 

Despite the December cold, Jeb hesitated before he walked into the house. With the wind chill factored in, the temperatures had hovered at zero for ten days straight. The reason he chose to stand outside his own house, letting the fiercely cold wind beat against him, was Maddy.

He'd faxed in a supply order the night before and knew she'd been by the house earlier that afternoon. It'd been a month since he'd last seen her, five weeks since the blizzard. Other than that one disastrous visit of hers, he hadn't spoken to her, yet she stayed on his mind, refusing to release him.

A gust of wind whipped against him, and still he held back. It wasn't as though Maddy had hidden inside and would leap out the minute he entered the house. She didn't need to be physically present for him to feel her presence. He knew because of what had happened when she'd delivered his grocery order last Thursday.

The instant he'd walked into the house he felt her nearness, smelled her perfume. He'd been shocked by his reaction, the sense of loss that reached out, clawing at his resolve, his need for privacy. The feeling that he'd been punched in the gut had lasted for hours.

Was it going to happen again today?

“This is damned ridiculous,” he muttered half-aloud and stamped up the porch steps.

Walking in, the first thing Jeb did was glance toward the table, hoping she'd left a note. She'd done that early on when she'd first started the delivery service. He'd stayed away from the house then, too, and she'd written him those brief messages. He'd saved each one, carried them in his pocket for weeks until he'd become so disgusted with himself that he'd destroyed them.

She had taken away his contentment, but he knew that was his own fault, not hers. Nothing suited him anymore. He was bored with reading, bored with woodcarving, bored with work. Bored with life. He found himself short-tempered and irritable, barely able to stand his own company. If the phone rang, he let the answering machine pick up. The fact that it was close to Christmas meant there were a few more calls than usual, none of which he'd returned, except for Sarah's.

He'd assured his sister that he would join the family Christmas Day, but last week he'd called and canceled, offering a hastily concocted excuse about a sick calf. To his surprise, Sarah hadn't raised much of an objection, but he suspected his sister had other problems on her mind.

Although he didn't have an appetite, Jeb opened a can of beef hash and fried that up with a couple of eggs for dinner. He was washing the pan and gazing out the kitchen window when he noticed headlights approaching. He didn't get much company, especially at night.

Stepping onto the porch, he recognized his father's truck. Jeb frowned and wondered if something was wrong. His father hardly ever visited the ranch. He was almost as much a homebody as Jeb; at least Jeb could say he'd come by that trait honestly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he opened the door for his father, who carried in a bag of wrapped gifts.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Joshua barked.

“Everything's all right, isn't it?”

“Far as I know. Hope you've got a pot of coffee on—it's colder'n a witch's tit out there.” He set the bag aside, then pulled off his gloves, rubbing his hands vigorously before he removed his jacket.

Despite his mood, Jeb grinned as he reached for a clean mug and filled it for him.

Joshua walked into the living room and made himself comfortable, sinking down in the recliner next to the fireplace. “Sarah said you'd decided not to come over on Christmas Day.”

That explained the bag of gifts. “I've got a sick calf I need to keep my eye on,” he murmured, the excuse sounding even weaker than it had originally.

“No hope of this calf recovering by next week, is there?”

“Doesn't look that way,” Jeb said, uncomfortable with the lie. “But if it means that much to you, I'll make the effort to be there,” he offered.

Joshua mulled that over. “I'd like you to be with your family, but I'd like it a whole lot better if that was where you
wanted
to be.”

It wasn't, and that was what he told his father.

Joshua accepted the news without emotion. “Fine, then. Don't come. I didn't really expect you to. The gifts are from Sarah and Calla, and there's a little something from me.”

“I have your gift and a couple of things for Sarah and Calla to take back with you.”

His father nodded, and there was a silence. Neither seemed to know what else to say.

“I wish you could see the town,” Joshua said after a moment, glancing around Jeb's living room. His look said he'd noticed there was no tree. No lights, no decorations, nothing. “Hassie's got the pharmacy all spiffed up with those icicle lights around the windows. Sarah's shop looks pretty Christmassy, too. She hung a red-and-green quilt in one window and had Calla paint a winter scene in the other. Kid did a good job of it. But the real show is over at Maddy's Grocery.”

“Maddy,” he said, before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, she finally got the sign changed. Everyone was impressed with the Halloween decorations, but she outdid herself this time. She actually has eight reindeer suspended from the ceiling, with a half a sleigh coming out of the wall. It's quite the sight.”

Jeb said nothing, picturing the scene in his mind. When he looked over at his father, he noticed that Joshua was carefully studying him.

“What?” Jeb demanded irritably.

“It's none of my business what happened between you and Maddy during that blizzard—”

“You're right, it isn't.”

“But—”

“There's no buts with this, Dad. What happened is between us and no one else.” The subject of Maddy was closed, as far as Jeb was concerned.

“I had a chance to talk to her recently,” Joshua continued, as if Jeb hadn't spoken. “I liked her,” he said, nodding. “Both the Loomis twins are in love with her.” He paused to chuckle. “Never seen anything like it. They'd walk over a bed of nails if she asked 'em to. Used to be real hellions. Now they're gentle as lambs, especially with Maddy.”

Jeb could well understand that. Not so long ago, he'd fallen under Maddy's spell himself. For a brief time, she'd made him believe in love and family. He'd started dreaming again, thinking about the future, convinced they could make a life together. For a couple of days after she'd returned to town, he'd clung to that idea. But all too soon reality intruded and he'd realized marriage to Maddy was a hopeless fantasy.

“Her mother's coming to spend Christmas with her.”

Jeb kept quiet because he'd wondered if she'd be heading back to Savannah for the holidays. He couldn't blame her if she did. It was bound to be a helluva lot warmer than Buffalo Valley.

“Maddy sounded real pleased about having her mother see the store and all. She's taking her to the school play. You should see it yourself—it'll be even better than last year.”

Jeb nodded and changed the subject. “How are Sarah and Calla?”

His father sipped his coffee and glanced away. “They seem to be all right.”

“Really?”

“Okay, not so good,” Joshua admitted.

“What's the problem?”

Joshua shrugged. “Calla got a letter from her father. I haven't read it, and neither has Sarah, but the kid's had a bad attitude toward Sarah ever since. Worse than her usual sass. Her mother can't do anything right, in Calla's opinion. She's fifteen, going on two. Sarah's tried hard to get Calla to talk to her, but the kid won't.” He hesitated, shaking his head. “Calla's not the only worry Sarah has, either.”