THE RIDING RING WAS ON A SLIGHT INCLINE, THIRTY YARDS TO the right of the stable. It was surrounded by a low, white fence and brightly lit now by huge, new mercury-vapor lights on high poles that shone almost as bright as daylight on the ring and simultaneously cast everything else into shadow.

From her vantage point just outside the stable, Diana watched Spence dismount and begin leading the handsome sorrel around the ring to cool him down. He said something to Corey that made her laugh as she walked along beside him, and Diana smiled with pleasure that Corey's evening was turning out so well.

Instead of having to share him with Doug and Barb Hayward and Doug's father plus one of Spence's innumerable and inevitable girlfriends, as Corey and Diana had expected, Corey had him entirely to herself. The Haywards had at the last minute remembered a relative's birthday party and were attending that, and Spence was by himself.

Diana's evening hadn't turned out badly, either. She'd had Cole entirely to herself. Managing to see him as often as she could without having it seem contrived had been the second hardest thing she'd ever done—second only to keeping her feelings for him a complete secret from him and everyone else.

Nearly all of Barb's friends had wild crushes on him. He was tall, tanned, wide-shouldered, and narrow-hipped. In snug, soft jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, every inch of his muscled body exuded power and raw sex appeal. His complete lack of social standing, his lack of money, and his lowly job at the stable made him off-limits to them. Which made him infinitely more attractive.

He refused to talk about himself to them, which made him mysterious and all the more fascinating.

He was unattainable, which made him even more desirable.

He was immune to their looks, their money, and their ploys. And that made him a challenge.

Since Cole couldn't be coerced or tricked into talking about himself, they spent endless hours speculating about his family and his friends back home and inventing dire experiences that might have made him want to forget or bury his past.

They did everything to get his attention, from trying to flirt with him, to wearing their tightest pants and most revealing tops, to asking him to examine nonexistent ankle sprains and hurt wrists, to pretending to fall against him when they dismounted.

One by one, Diana had watched Cole's reactions to each girl's attempt to flirt with him, and she soon realized that the more blatant the attempt was, the stronger his retaliation. Milder transgressors were treated like children, subjected to his open amusement and spoken to in a condescendingly superior way that made the transgressor squirm. More daring transgressors received a much more unbearable punishment: they were subjected to weeks of cool and distant behavior. Unfortunately, both of his tactics made it necessary to find ways to get back into his good graces, which made him seem even more powerful and desirable.

At one point or another, during the last two years, practically every girl who rode at the Haywards' place had claimed that he'd done or said something to indicate he had some secret interest in her. In April of this year, nine of the girls had each bet ten dollars on who would be the first to kiss him. Diana had abstained, claiming he simply didn't appeal to her, but she volunteered to be the treasurer—and silently prayed she'd never have to hand the booty over to a winner. Earlier that spring, at a sleepover at the Haywards', Barb had claimed she'd won the bet the night before. For a half hour, she provided her girlfriends with dozens of titillating, imaginative, and highly improbable details about the nature of the kissing and the extent of the petting that followed.

Just when Diana thought she would surely throw up if she had to listen to another description of their body positions, Barb had flopped back on the bed and burst out laughing. "April Fools!" she called, and was immediately bombarded with handfuls of popcorn for her joke.

As miserable as Diana had been before Barb admitted to the joke, Diana hadn't betrayed by expression or word how she felt. Not then and not now.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Cole pouring feed into the bucket in the last stall, and she knew he'd come back outside to join her in a minute. She knew a lot more about him than the other girls did, because she alone had spent substantial amounts of time with him.

She knew exactly how sunlight turned his hair to polished ebony; she'd seen the way his sudden white smile could soften the hard planes of his face and turn his eyes to liquid silver, she'd felt his hands at her waist when he came up behind her and jokingly picked her up to lift her out of his way. She'd heard the awful fury in his voice when he dragged outside one of Doug's friends who was smoking in the stable and verbally flayed him for creating a fire hazard for the horses.

She'd also seen him deliver a litter of kittens while he murmured gentle encouragement to the mother, and she'd seen him revive what had appeared to be a stillborn kitten by massaging it with his fingers.

She'd actually experienced some of the fantasies the other girls could only dream of, but there were two enormous differences between Diana and the others: she was smart enough not to try to make her fantasies into reality, and she was wise enough to understand and accept that this casual friendship she shared with him was all there was ever going to be.

She realized that she would never know how it felt to have his mouth cover hers in a kiss, or his arms close around her, or his hands press her tightly against him. She accepted all that with only a little regret. Because she was also smart enough to know that if he ever made up his mind to kiss her, she probably wouldn't be able to handle it or control him.

Cole wouldn't bother with a lot of smooth talk and rehearsed strategies; he'd expect her to be a match for him in every way. But she wasn't, and she knew it. Even if she weren't hopelessly naive compared to him, they were as different as two people could possibly be.

Cole was blunt, reckless, and earthy. Diana was reserved, cautious, and hopelessly proper.

He was motorcycles and blue jeans and battered duffel bags, with a need to blaze his own trails through life.

She was BMWs and prom gowns and matched luggage, with a need to stay on smooth, paved roads.

Despite her philosophical understanding of the situation, Diana sighed as she watched Corey walking beside Spence. Corey was inviting disappointment and unhappiness by chasing Spencer Addison, but she was willing to take all the risks. Diana couldn't and wouldn't.

Cole finished feeding the horses and walked up silently behind her. "I sincerely hope all that sighing you're doing isn't because of Addison," he said dryly.

Diana jumped guiltily, her senses going into instant overload at his nearness. His voice sounded as dark and sultry as the night; he smelled like soap and fresh hay; he seemed to loom over her—as indomitable and rugged as the mountains in the Texas hill country to the west. "What do you mean by that?"

Moving to a position beside her, he braced his foot on the lowest railing of the fence and tipped his head toward the couple coming slowly toward them. "I mean I'd hate to see anything come between you and Corey. The two of you are closer than any natural sisters I've ever known, and it's embarrassingly obvious that Corey wants him for herself."

"Is it that obvious?" Diana asked, peering at him in the darkness, trying not to notice that his shirt sleeve was touching her upper arm.

"Not at first. You have to watch her for thirty seconds or so when he's around to see what's going on in her mind."

Ill at ease with that topic, and unable to think of a different one when he was standing so close, Diana followed his gaze. "Spence is a terrific horseman," she said.

Cole shrugged. "He's not bad."

Diana had known Spence since she was a little girl, and she couldn't let that slur on his ability pass without argument. "He's better than 'not bad'! Everyone says he could become a professional polo player!"

"What a paragon," Cole said in a scoffing tone she'd never heard him use before. "A college football hero, a 'professional' polo player, and an Olympic-class ladies' man."

"What makes you say that last thing?" Diana asked, worried for Corey's sake.

He shot her a sardonic look. "I've never seen him here when he didn't have a beautiful girl along to lavish him with the sort of hero worship he's getting from Corey and you tonight."

"Me?" Diana burst out, gaping at him and on the verge of laughter. "Me?"

Cole surveyed her upturned face. "Evidently not," he admitted with a slow grin. He looked back at Corey and Spence, who were making their slow way toward the stable now. "I hope Corey doesn't get her heart broken. She's got one hell of a crush on Addison. She used up a roll of film on him tonight."

"That doesn't mean anything," Diana fibbed. "You know how serious Corey is about her photography. She's working on action shots now, and since Spence was riding…"

"He hadn't gotten on the horse yet, Diana."

"Oh." Diana bit her lip, and then hesitantly asked, "Do you think Spence notices how she feels?"

Cole knew the answer to that was an emphatic yes, but he didn't want to distress Diana, and now that he knew she wasn't another one of Addison's army of admirers, he felt charitable enough to give the man some credit. "If he does know, he either doesn't find it annoying, or else he's too much of a gentleman to hurt her feelings."

Cole propped both of his elbows on the fence, and he and Diana lapsed into companionable silence for several moments. Finally, Cole said, "If it isn't Addison, then who's the latest guy who makes your heart beat faster?"

"George Sigourney," Diana quipped.

"And is this Sigourney a jock like Addison? Or is he just a rich preppie?"

"Mr. Sigourney happens to be the dean of admissions at Southern Methodist—he signed my college admission letter and made my little heart flutter."

"Diana, that's wonderful!" he interrupted with a heart-stopping smile. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Because when I'm with you, nothing else seems to matter, Diana thought. "I was waiting for the right moment," she said.

He gave her a puzzled look, but he didn't argue. "Have you decided on a major?"

When she shook her head, he adopted the patronizing tone of a wise old adult counseling a mere child. "Don't worry about it. You have plenty of time to decide all that."

"Thank you," Diana returned with a sideways smile. "And what about you? Have you already decided what you're going to be when you grow up?"

He chuckled at her impertinent question. "Yep," he said.

"What?"

"Rich," he replied with absolute conviction.

Diana knew that he was a finance major at college, but the details of his objective were unknown. "Do you have some sort of plan in mind?"

"I have some ideas."

In the riding ring, Spence turned the horse toward the stable, and Corey knew her time with him was coming to an end even before Spence said, "I have to get going." She tried to think of something clever or witty to say, but whenever he was near, Corey could hardly think at all. "I promised Lisa I'd pick her up at nine," he added.

"Oh," she said glumly, her spirits plummeting with this new piece of depressing information. "Lisa."

"Don't you like her?" Spence asked, looking surprised.

Corey marveled at the denseness of the human male. She positively loathed Lisa Murphy, and Lisa returned the feeling.

A month before, Corey's family had attended a charity horse show near San Antonio, and Corey had been surprised and elated to see Spence there. Since she'd brought her camera, she managed to get several excellent candid shots of Spence along with some fine shots of the horses. When Lisa led her horse back into the barn after taking a blue ribbon in the gaited-pleasure-horse class, Spence accompanied her, and Corey naturally followed at a discreet distance, hoping for a few more glimpses of him.

The huge barn was crowded with horses, grooms, trainers, owners, and riders, and Corey felt certain she wouldn't be noticed. Pretending to inspect the horses, she moved slowly down the gangway, pausing now and then as if to talk to some of the riders. She was almost directly across from Lisa's assigned stall when Spence passed her en route to get a Coke for his current flame. Corey turned her back quickly, and he didn't see her, but Lisa did. She marched out of her horse's stall and stormed up behind Corey. "Why do you have to be such a pest!" Lisa exploded in a low, incensed voice. "Can't you see that you're making a fool of yourself by tagging after Spence everywhere he goes? Now, go away and stay away!"

Humiliated and angry, Corey had returned to the arena and joined her family in the bleachers, but she'd kept her camera ready in case she saw Spence again. That turned out to be a very good thing because, although she didn't see Spence, she did see Lisa get thrown from her horse in the next round. As Lisa landed on her rump in the dirt with her hat off and her hair in her face, Corey had gotten that shot and several others. One of them became a favorite of hers, and it was prominently displayed in her room even though Spence wasn't in it.

Since Spence was still waiting for an answer, she shrugged and said mildly, "Lisa isn't my favorite of your girlfriends."

"Why not?"

"You'd probably think it isn't important."

"Let's hear it," he ordered.

"Okay, she's meaner than a two-headed snake!"

He laughed at that, and in a rare gesture of open affection, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. Corey knew it had been a brotherly hug, but she was so ecstatic that she almost overlooked a highly revealing sight: Diana was standing at the fence beside Cole, and his arm was so close to hers that they were nearly touching. What's more, Diana and the Haywards' sexy, uncommunicative stable hand seemed to be completely absorbed in their conversation.

It had seemed incredible to her earlier, but seeing them together that way was enough to convince her that no matter how ill-suited they seemed, or how well Diana had hidden it, she was in love with him. Corey immediately racked her brain for some way to prolong their time together, and in the process she hit upon a possible means to spend a little more time with Spence as well. "Spence," she burst out, "could you give me a ride home?"

He shifted his glance from the couple at the fence to hers. "Isn't Diana going to take you home when she leaves?"

"That was the plan," Corey admitted; then she flashed him a conspiratorial smile and nodded toward her unsuspecting sister. "It's just that I hate to break up their evening."

His gaze narrowed on her face; then it sliced to Diana and Cole, and his expression went from disbelief to amused skepticism. "You aren't actually implying that Diana is interested in Cole Harrison, are you?"

"You don't think it's possible?"

"No, I don't."

"Why, because he works in a stable?" Corey held her breath, hoping her idol wouldn't betray the flaw of snobbery.

"No, that's not it."

"Then why isn't it possible?"

He looked at Diana and shook his head, chuckling. "I can't believe you haven't realized that Diana is the last girl on earth to go for the dark, brooding, earthy type. Among other things, he'd completely intimidate her."

"What makes you so sure?" Corey asked, even though she'd felt exactly the same way earlier that day, when she first suspected how Diana really felt.

"My superior knowledge of women," he said with an outrageous sense of male arrogance, "combined with excellent insight."

"Insight!" she scoffed indignantly, thinking of how Lisa Murphy was getting her claws into him. "How can you talk about insight when you think Lisa Murphy is a cream puff?"

"We're talking about Diana, not Lisa," he reminded her in a pleasant, but firm tone.

Since he obviously wasn't going to believe Diana was romantically interested in Cole, Corey thought madly for some other reason to explain why Diana should stay and Spence should take her home. Diana wanted to spend time with Cole, and Corey uttered the only feasible explanation that came to mind. "Okay, but you're ruining the surprise if you make me tell you more than this: Diana got thrown a couple years ago, and she's been afraid to ride ever since."

"I know that."

Trying very hard to stick to the truth, she said, "And Cole's been urging her to ride, but you know how Diana is—she doesn't like anyone to see that she's really nervous or afraid—"

Understanding dawned and Spence grinned. "Diana's getting some private riding lessons!" he concluded— appropriately, if incorrectly. "That's great!" He nodded toward his white Jeep Cherokee as they neared the couple at the fence. "Get your things together, and I'll drop you off on the way home."

Corey nodded and hurried forward in hopes of preventing Diana from objecting and spoiling Corey's ploy. "Spence said he'd drop me off at home," she said, giving Diana a pleading look that was so obvious that Cole had to bite back a smile. "That way, you can stay here as long as you like."

Diana stared at her in embarrassed dismay. Without Corey as an excuse, she couldn't and wouldn't linger with Cole; yet she wanted Corey to be able to ride home with Spence. "Okay," she said, deciding she'd leave immediately after they did.

While Cole took the reins of the sorrel and led the stable's newest resident back into his stall, Diana watched her sister and Spence get into his car. She waited until the Jeep's taillights vanished around a curve; then she went into the stable to get her purse and car keys. At the end of the long hallway around a corner, Cole was emptying the grocery bag of goodies she'd brought onto the sink counter beside his small refrigerator, and Diana walked back there to say good-bye. "Thanks for the company," she said.

"You can't leave yet," he said, and Diana's heart soared. "If you leave too soon, you'll end up passing them on the way home," he added with a knowing smile. "Which will completely confuse Addison and embarrass the hell out of Corey. Why don't you stay and share some of this food with me?"

It occurred to Diana that she could avoid encountering Corey and Spence simply by taking a circuitous route home, but since that evidently hadn't occurred to Cole, she accepted his invitation with a happy smile. "I've already eaten, but I'll have a cookie for dessert with you."

"We can eat on our laps," he said, ruling out the desk in his bedroom as an unsuitable locale.

"I'll figure something else out," she called, already turning the corner into the corridor.

While the chicken and vegetables were heating, Cole finished unpacking the groceries; then he filled his plate with the delicious leftovers and stepped into the main hall from the small kitchen.

"All set," Diana said, straightening and reaching for the light switch. "But a little less light will make this look a whole lot better, believe me." As she spoke, she turned off the bright corridor lights, and Cole was startled by the effect she'd achieved.

In less than ten minutes, Diana had turned three bales of hay and a piece of plywood into a lamplit table covered with a red, yellow, and orange beach towel from the trunk of her car and a makeshift L-shaped bench. In the center of the table, between two kerosene lamps, was an old stainless steel bowl filled with lush hibiscus leaves and its vivid orange blossoms. "This is very nice," he said.

Diana dismissed that with a smiling shrug. "My mother and grandmother are convinced that atmosphere and presentation are seventy percent of what makes a meal taste good."

"They're probably right," Cole said as he put his meal and a plate of cookies on the makeshift table and slid onto his bale of hay. The entire concept of "presentation" as it applied to dining was completely unknown to him. He had a great deal to learn about the hundreds of little niceties and refinements that went with being wealthy and successful, but he was more concerned right now with acquiring wealth than the social polish he'd need later to go with it. "I'm awed," he added, stretching his long legs out beside the table. She sat down on the bale at his left.

"Why?" she asked, breaking off a small piece of cookie.

"Because you're remarkable." Cole hadn't meant to say that aloud, but it was true. Among other things, she was very bright and very poised. She was soft-spoken and amazingly witty, but her wit was so subtle and her voice so softly musical that her sense of humor either caught him off-guard or almost slid by his notice. But what he liked most about Diana Foster was the democratic impartiality she showed to him, a lowly stable hand.

She spoke to him with a friendly interest that was genuine and yet devoid of any hint of flirtatiousness. In the years he'd worked for the Haywards, nearly all of Barbara's teenage girlfriends had made some sort of romantic overture toward Cole, all of which he wisely and carefully dodged.

Their tactics were often blatant, usually transparent, and frequently amusing. What he found most irritating was that these wealthy, young femme fatales seemed to think they could attempt to seduce an "inferior being" without the slightest risk of repercussions. What they needed, in his opinion, was a sound spanking, though it was too late now for such parental discipline, even if their parents had been so inclined.

In this, as in everything else, Diana Foster was a delightful exception. She had been a constant surprise almost from their very first meeting, and now she surprised him more than ever before, because his honest compliment had made her shy and self-conscious. In what he knew was an attempt to avoid his scrutiny, she called out to one of the kittens she'd helped him deliver, and it bounded over to her.

"Just look how you've grown, Samantha!" she exclaimed as she scooped the tan cat into her arms and gave it a piece of cookie. A short black-and-white dog with long hair and no discernible link to any known pedigree on earth had been at her heels all evening, and she broke off a piece of cookie for him, too. "Sit up, Luke," she ordered, and when the dog eagerly obeyed, she gave him his reward.

"How many dogs and cats of your own do you have?" Cole asked, watching her fingers lovingly stroke the dog's matted fur as if it were sable instead of canine.

"We don't have any of either."

Cole was dumbfounded. When the litter of kittens was born, she'd fussed over them, played with them, and then managed to find homes for all but Samantha, whom she'd persuaded Cole to keep. Last winter, she'd appeared with a scroungy stray dog in her arms and managed to persuade him to keep that at the barn, too. "I'll help you name him," she'd volunteered while Cole was still arguing against keeping the animal. "How about calling him Luke?"

"He looks more like a Rover," Cole had argued. "Or a Fleabag."

"He'll look like a Luke when he's cleaned up."

Cole hadn't been proof against those big green eyes of hers. Taking the dog by the scruff of its neck, he'd held it away from himself and gone in search of flea soap and a metal tub. Naturally, he'd assumed she'd already inflicted the maximum quota of homeless beasts on her own family.

He seized on that subject as a way of getting her over her sudden attack of shyness. "Kitten, didn't anyone ever tell you that charity begins at home?" he asked dryly, using the nickname he'd teasingly begun calling her after she'd persuaded him to take in Luke and Samantha.

She put Samantha on the floor and picked up Luke, cradling him in her lap; then she shot Cole a quizzical glance. "What do you mean?"

"Why did I end up playing surrogate parent to that mangy waif of a dog, instead of you? I naturally assumed you had already done your fair share of providing a 'home to the homeless' before you turned to me."

She curled one tanned leg beneath her and turned sideways, so that Luke and Sam could both enjoy her petting. "My father's terribly allergic to dogs and cats. Otherwise," she told the adoring dog, "I'd have taken you straight home with me! You could have slept in my bed…"

Lucky dog. The words drifted so softly through Cole's mind that he didn't notice at first what direction his thoughts had taken. He watched the lamplight dancing on the wall behind her, casting cheerful shadows to dispel the gloom. Diana had that same ability to brighten and beautify her surroundings simply by being there. She was going to be a very special woman someday… and also a very beautiful one, he decided.

She had hair the color of dark copper and the texture of heavy silk, and soft, dewy skin. Every time he had seen her during this past year, she seemed to have grown prettier, her skin fairer, her eyes greener. She was no more than five feet two inches tall, barely reaching his shoulder, but in yellow knit shorts and a matching V-neck top, she had the figure of a petite goddess, with long shapely legs, full breasts, and a tiny waist. She also had a way of looking at him that made him feel mesmerized by her eyes. His gaze slid from her russet eyelashes to the gentle swell of her breasts, pausing to contemplate the curve of her smooth cheek and the softness of her lips…

Realizing that he was inventorying the feminine assets of an innocent child, Cole diverted them both with a question, but he was furious with himself for what he'd been thinking… and wanting. "It's ridiculous that you keep refusing to ride a horse!" he said brusquely. His voice made the dog, the cat, and the girl all look at him in consternation, but Cole was so angry at himself for thinking like a pervert that his tone remained harsh. "Don't you have any guts?"

Diana couldn't believe he was speaking to her like this. Simultaneously she felt the desire to cry and had the impulse to leap to her feet, put her hands on her waist, and demand an explanation. Instead of doing either, she gave him a long look and said quietly, "I'm not a coward, if that's what you mean."

"I didn't mean that at all," Cole said, feeling like a complete bastard. Inch for inch, Diana Foster was undoubtedly one of the most courageous, kind, independent females he'd ever known. "As a matter of fact, I cried my eyes out the first time I got thrown," he lied to make her feel better.

"I didn't cry," Diana said, helplessly beguiled by the image of a little boy with dark, curly hair crying with his fists pressed to his eyes.

"You didn't?" Cole teased.

"Nope, not me. Not when I broke my wrist and not while Dr. Paltrona was setting it."

"Not even one tear?"

"Not even one."

"Good for you," he said.

"Not really." She sighed. "I fainted instead."

Cole threw back his head and burst out laughing; then he sobered and looked at her with an expression so tender that Diana's heart began to hammer. "Don't change," he said huskily. "Stay just the way you are."

Diana could hardly believe this night was actually happening, that he was really talking to her and looking at her this way. She didn't know what had finally brought it on, but she didn't want it to stop. Not yet. "Is it all right if I get a little taller?" she teased shakily.

She'd tipped her head back, gazing up at him in a way that unconsciously invited him to lower his mouth to her smiling lips, and Cole noticed it. "Yes, but don't change anything else," he said, trying to ignore her provocative pose. "Someday, some lucky guy will come along and realize what a rare treasure you are."

Having him cheerfully predict that another man would win her heart was enough to douse Diana's happy glow. She straightened and put the dog down, but she bore Cole no ill will for his impersonal attitude, and she was genuinely interested in his opinion. "What if I don't feel that way about him?"

"You will"

"It hasn't happened yet. I'm the only girl I know of who isn't madly in love with someone and convinced he's the one I want to marry." Lifting her hand, she began counting off her friends on her fingers. "Corey is in love with Spencer—Haley is in love with Peter Mitchell—Denise is in love with Doug Hayward—Missy is in love with Michael Murchison—" With a disgusted wave of her hand, she finished, "I could go on and on forever."

She sounded so despondent that Cole felt obliged to cheer her up before he could let the topic drop. "Come on, there must be at least one other girl your age with enough sense to look beyond the moment toward the future." Although Cole privately regarded Barbara Hayward as an airhead, Diana hadn't mentioned her name, so he seized on her as a possible illustration of his point. "How about Barb? Who is she hoping to marry?"

Diana rolled her eyes in disgust. "Harrison Ford."

"That figures," Cole said dryly.

"And then there's you," Diana continued, provoked into bringing up Valerie, even though she knew it would distract him completely from herself.

"What about me?"

He looked so bewildered that Diana's heart soared with hope. During their many talks over the last two years, she'd heard all about the beautiful blond from Jeffersonville who went to school at UCLA. She knew they exchanged letters and phone calls several times a month and that he managed to see her occasionally, usually during summer vacations when she was home. "I was referring to Valerie."

"Oh." He nodded with emphasis, but that was uninformative enough to spur Diana's curiosity and hope even higher. "Have you heard from her lately?"

"I saw her a few weeks ago during spring break."

Diana had a vivid and unwanted picture of Cole and Valerie making wild, passionate love together in some scenic glade beneath a starlit sky. Somehow a primitive outdoor setting seemed better suited to his rugged good looks. In a moment of weakness Diana had requested a copy of the UCLA yearbook through Houston's main library. From it, she'd discovered that Valerie was not only active in her sorority, she seemed to be dating the captain of the college's soccer team. Besides that, she was tall and beautiful, as well as older and undoubtedly more worldly than Diana. She had the face and eyes of a Nordic princess and a smile straight out of a toothpaste ad. Diana had to make an effort not to hate her. In fact, the only thing Valerie didn't have was good grades. That at least was something Diana had in common with Cole. He had a 3.9 grade-point average and so did Diana. "How were Valerie's grades at the end of the semester?" she asked, descending to petty competitiveness and hating herself for it.

"She's on scholastic probation."

"That's too bad," Diana murmured. "Does that mean she'll have to go to summer school and you won't be able to see her when you go home?"

"I don't go home unless it's to see her," Cole said.

Diana had assumed as much. Although she knew relatively little about his life before he came to Houston, she'd managed to discover that he was from a town in Texas called Kingdom City and he had no family except a great-uncle and a cousin who was five years older than he. She'd soon learned that any attempt to pry deeper into the details of his past gained her little beyond an offhand answer or a premature end to the camaraderie she treasured.

As he lifted his Coke to his mouth, Diana watched the golden lamplight flicker on the tanned column of his neck and gild the hard contours of his square chin and firm jaw, but the flame was too feeble to pierce the midnight darkness of his thick hair.

She hoped Valerie appreciated Cole's loyalty and devotion; she hoped his girlfriend wasn't going to try to make him into a tame, well-groomed Labrador retriever instead of the panther he resembled. There was something about the girl with the toothpaste smile that made her look all wrong for Cole. It was wrong to covet, but Diana just couldn't help it!

Beside her, Cole lowered his soft drink can an inch and warily studied the ferocious, possessive scowl on Diana's face. "By any chance, am I drinking your Coke?" he asked.

Diana snapped out of her fanciful dreams and quickly shook her head. It was time to leave… long past time to leave, because tonight her common sense, her logic and self-control weren't operating very well. "I'll help you clear all this away," she said, already standing up and gathering plates and silverware.

"I have to study for finals," he said as he blew out the two lamps and picked up the bowl of orange hibiscus, "but I have enough time for a hand of pinochle before you go."

He flipped on the bright corridor lights as he made that offer, and the harsh light banished the last traces of her romantic fantasies. She'd taught him pinochle and hearts last year, during one of those rare and wonderful afternoons when Corey came to help exercise the horses, as she loved to do, and no one else was around. All that was over now, Diana realized. It had to end because she suddenly realized that she was no longer able to keep her fantasies about him in their proper place. They were getting completely out of control. Tonight, if he'd kissed her, she'd have ignored all the dangers and let him. Let him? If he'd given her just a little bit more encouragement, she would have kissed him! Somehow, during the last few weeks, she'd begun to truly risk her whole heart on him, and that made the stakes much too big for a sensible girl who already knew that the odds against her were so high she couldn't possibly win.

"You're too good now," she said with a bright smile over her shoulder.

"Not for a cardshark like you, I'm not."

"I really do have to go."

"I understand." He sounded a little disappointed, and Diana fought against the temptation to stay awhile longer. She was still wavering when he turned and disappeared into his room. By the time he emerged to walk her out to her car, she'd put the dishes in the sink and her friendly, impersonal facade firmly in place. She was congratulating herself for resisting the temptation to stay as he reached out with his right hand to open her car door. "By the way—" he said as she turned to him to say good night, "I heard some of the girls talking about the sweet sixteen party your parents threw for you a couple weeks ago."

Diana was too preoccupied with the inexplicable smile hovering at the corner of his mouth to say anything intelligent. "It was my sixteenth birthday."

"I know," he said with a sudden grin at her flustered answer. "And where I come from it's customary to give a girl something special on her sixteenth birthday—"

A kiss! He was going to kiss her, Diana realized, and all her defenses and fears collapsed beneath the weight of her joy and nervous anticipation. She dropped her gaze from his gleaming silver eyes to his sensual mouth. "What do you give a girl back home," she breathed shakily and closed her eyes, "when she turns sixteen?"

"A present!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he took his left hand from behind his back. Diana's eyes snapped open, and she clutched the car door for balance as she stared in mortified surprise at his outstretched hand. In it was a large, oddly shaped item that he'd obviously wrapped himself in a sheet of newspaper and tied with what looked like a shoelace. Seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil, he held it closer. "Go ahead, open it."

Diana recovered her manners, gave him an overbright smile, and pulled on the end of the broken white shoelace.

"It isn't much," he warned, sounding suddenly uncertain.

The paper fell away to reveal a stuffed toy—a life-size white cat with a pink tongue, green eyes, and a tag around its neck that said, "My name is Pinkerton."

"You've probably had dozens of really exotic stuffed animals," he added uneasily when she didn't immediately react. "In fact, you're probably too old for stuffed animals, period."

He was right on both counts, but none of that mattered to Diana. To save money, he did without all sorts of things, including good food, but he'd actually gone out and gotten her a present. Speechless, she lifted the ordinary, inexpensive toy from his hands as carefully as if it were priceless porcelain; then she held it in front of her to admire it.

Cole looked at the toy and realized how cheap it would look to someone like her. "It's just something I picked up— a token—" he began defensively. He broke off in surprise as Diana shook her head to silence him, then clutched the stuffed animal to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around it.

"Thank you, Cole," she whispered, laying her cheek against its furry head. Smiling, she lifted her glowing gaze to his. "Thank you," she said again.

You're welcome, Cole thought, but the incredible warmth of her reaction seemed to have momentarily melted his ability to speak and his ability to think. In silence he closed the car door after she'd settled into her seat, and in silence he watched her taillights vanish around a curve in the long drive that wound through the trees and along the side of the house.