Lone Wolf. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      Momentarily stunned, she stuck her fork into the pie, trying to gather her wits. A spring ball? An appropriate young man?

      Like Hawk?

      Jenny tried not to panic. No, not like Hawk. She couldn’t ask him to a ball his father had invited her to. Nor could she dance with him. She was barely handling the first few stages of friendship.

      “This would be good business,” Archy said, sensing her apprehension. “You’ll rub elbows with all the right people.”

      People who might hire her for future projects, she realized. Yes, it was good business, but she couldn’t do it.

      “It’s still a month away,” he added. “So you’ve got time to buy a fancy dress and go to the beauty parlor or whatever it is you women do to make men fall at your feet.”

      She managed a weak smile. “I’m flattered by the invitation, but I’m not much for parties.”

      Archy shook his head. “You’re too pretty to be a wallflower.”

      And she was too edgy to date. “I’m still getting settled in. New town. New people. I’m just not ready for a ball.”

      “All right. But if you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

      The pie hit her stomach like a rock. She had the feeling Archy wasn’t going to let this lie. He would continue prompting her for the next few weeks.

      Maybe he thought it was his duty to bring her out of her shell, to introduce her to Texas society.

      The older man had taken her under his wing since the day she’d arrived on the job, guiding her in a paternal fashion.

      And she had been touched by his kindness, by the softness she saw in his eyes.

      But things seemed complicated, now that she’d met his illegitimate son.

      Jenny worked another long day. When she pulled into her driveway, dusk had fallen.

      She sat in her car for a moment, then decided she wouldn’t be able to relax until she told Hawk about her association with his father.

      Although she wasn’t certain that their budding friendship could take the strain, she knew it was the right thing to do.

      She’d promised to form her own opinions of Hawk, not judge him on the basis of hearsay, and he owed her a similar courtesy. She’d met Archy before she even knew Hawk existed. She wasn’t betraying one for the other.

      Jenny knocked on his door, expecting to hear the puppy bark. But when Hawk answered her summons, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, she lost her composure.

      His hair, long and damp, was combed away from his face, making the sharp talons in his ears stand out even more. His chest, broad and bare, exposed a knee-weakening display of muscle. She didn’t dare peek at his stomach.

      “Jenny,” he said. “You look great.”

      “Thank you.” She smoothed her jacket. She wore a professional beige suit, the skirt riding several inches above her wobbling knees. Her blouse and pumps were beige, as well. The only spot of color was a blue silk scarf. She knew it matched her eyes.

      She didn’t comment on how he looked. What did one say to a half-naked man?

      “Come in.” He stepped away from the door, and she entered his house.

      She tried to relax, but couldn’t quite manage it. She hadn’t expected to catch him fresh from the shower.

      “Where’s Muddy?” she asked.

      “Asleep. He tired himself out, chewing half the pillows in the house. I might have to crate him during the day. Or bring him to the barn, I suppose. He’d probably get into less trouble there.” Hawk gestured for her to sit. “Do want you a soda? Or a beer or anything?”

      “No.” She glanced at the couch, but couldn’t bring herself to sit. “If this is an inconvenient time, Hawk, I can stop by tomorrow.” When his hair wasn’t damp. When he wore more clothes. When she could think clearly.

      “I wasn’t doing anything. You’re welcome to stay. I’m just going to grab a beer. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

      “Yes, I’m sure.”

      She sat primly on the edge of the couch, and he returned with a bottle of Mexican beer.

      “Is something wrong?” he asked.

      “No.” She shook her head, then glanced around the room. He’d given the house a cabin-type feel, with rough woods and animal skins. His moccasins were tossed in a corner, and an end table was littered with old newspapers. Masculine clutter, she supposed, although she didn’t have any experience with it. Roy had been fanatical about keeping things tidy.

      She spotted a framed photograph on another small table. The little boy in the picture had to be Hawk, the woman holding him, his mother.

      Rain Dancer.

      The name fit. She was the most exotic-looking woman Jenny had ever seen. One could imagine her dancing in the rain, her jet-black hair glistening beneath the moon.

      No wonder she’d bewitched Archy.

      She was spellbinding.

      Jenny turned to find Hawk watching her. He’d taken a chair near the fireplace. His jaw was set in a tight line, his eyes suddenly more black than brown.

      “Did Mrs. Pritchett say something about me again?” he asked. “Or about my mother?”

      “No. I haven’t seen Mrs. Pritchett. But I spoke to your father today. Archy Wainwright is a business associate of mine.”

      Hawk didn’t move, not one muscle. He didn’t even blink. “A business associate?”

      “Yes.” Jenny folded her hands on her lap. Suddenly the room seemed smaller, the walls more compact. She wished there was a window open, a shift of air. “I’m an interior designer. I came to Mission Creek to work with the architect on the renovation of the new wing at the Lone Star Country Club. And now that it’s complete, I’m redecorating some of the original guest rooms.”

      “And what do you think of good old Archy?” he asked, one corner of his mouth lifting in a cynical smile.

      “I like him,” she answered honestly. “He’s been very kind to me. I landed the Lone Star Country Club contract because of him. He recommended me to the architect.”

      Hawk took a swig of his beer, but his eyes were still dark and unyielding. “How did Archy become familiar with your work?”

      “I was the designer on a chain of steak houses in Utah. Archy is affiliated with the owner.” She continued to keep her hands clasped on her lap. “I won an award for that project. For the authenticity and creativity of the Old West theme.”

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