Her blood had turned into some hot, foreign liquid that made her pulse leap and her heart thud. The rough stubble of his beard scraped her face, and she moaned. From the pain, she assured herself. It couldn’t be from pleasure.

And yet… Her hands were on his shoulders, holding on now rather than pushing away.

He wondered if she knew she packed a bigger kick than her father’s rifle. He’d never known that anything so sweet could be so potent. That anything so delicate could be so strong. She had him by the throat and didn’t even know it. And he wanted more. In a move too desperate to be gentle, he dragged her head back by the hair.

She gasped in the instant he allowed her to breathe, dragging in air, unaware that she’d been stunned into holding her breath. Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue invading, arousing in a way she hadn’t known she could be aroused, weakening in a way she hadn’t believed she could be weakened.

She moaned again, but this time there was no denying the pleasure. Tentatively, then boldly, she answered the new demand. Savoring the hot, salty taste of his lips, she ran her hands along the planes of his face and into his hair. Glorious. No one had ever warned her that a kiss could make the body burn and tremble and yearn. A sound of stunned delight caught in her throat.

The sound lit fires in him that he knew could never be allowed to burn free. She was innocent. Any fool could see that. Arid he…he hadn’t been innocent since he’d drawn his first breath. There were lines he crossed, laws he broke. But this one had to be respected.

He struggled to clear his mind, but she filled it. Her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer, pulling him in. And her mouth… Sweet Lord, her mouth. His heart was hammering in his head, in his loins…all from the taste of her. Honeyed whiskey. A man could drown in it.

Afraid he would, and even more afraid he’d want to, he pushed her away. Her eyes were dark and unfocused the way they’d been last night, when she’d started to come to. It gave him some satisfaction to see it, because he felt as though he’d been knocked cold, himself.

“Like I said, you learn fast, Sarah.” His hand was shaking. Infuriated, he curled it into a fist. He had a flash, an almost painful one, of what it would be like to drag her to the ground and take everything from her. Before he could act, one way or the other, he heard the sound of an approaching wagon. “You got company coming.” He handed her the rifle and walked away.

What had he done to her? Sarah put a hand to her spinning head. He’d…he’d forced himself on her. Forced her until…until he hadn’t had to force her any longer. Until it had felt right to want him. Until wanting him had been all there was.

Just like the dream. But this wasn’t a dream, Sarah told herself, straightening her shoulders. It was more than real, and now he was walking away from her as if it hadn’t mattered to him in the least. Pride was every bit as dangerous an emotion as anger.

“Mr. Redman.”

When he turned, he saw her standing there with the rifle. If the look in her eyes meant anything, she’d have dearly loved to use it.

“Apparently you take chances, too.” She tilted her head. There was challenge in the gesture, as well as a touch of fury and a stab of hurt. “This rifle’s still loaded.”

“That’s right.” He touched the brim of his hat in a salute. “It’s a hell of a lot harder to pull the trigger when you’re aiming at flesh and blood, but go ahead. It’d be hard to miss at this range.”

She wished she could. She wished she had the skill to put a bullet between his feet and watch him jump. Lifting her chin, she walked toward the house. “The difference between you and me, Mr. Redman, is that I still have morals.”

“There’s some truth in that.” He strode easily beside her. “Seeing as you fixed me breakfast and all, why don’t you call me Jake?” He swung up into the saddle as a buggy rumbled into the yard.

“Sarah?” With her hands still on the reins, Liza cast an uncertain glance at her new friend, then at the man in the saddle. She knew she wasn’t supposed to approve of men like Jake Redman. But she found it difficult not to when he looked so attractive and exciting.

“I hope you don’t mind us coming out.” A young boy jumped out of the buggy and began to chase the puppy, who was running in circles.

“Not at all. I’m delighted.” Sarah shaded her eyes with her hand so that she could see Jake clearly. “Mr. Redman was just on his way.”

“Those sure are some pretty guns you got there, mister.” Young John Cody put a hand on the neck of Jake’s gray mustang and peered up at the smooth wooden grip of one of the Colt.45s he carried. He knew who Jake Redman was-he’d heard all the stories but he’d never managed to get this close before.

“Think so?” Ignoring the two women, Jake shifted in his saddle to get a better look at the boy. No more than ten, he figured, with awe in his eyes and a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

“Yessiree. I think that when you slap leather you’re just about the fastest there is, maybe in the whole world.”

“John Cody.” Liza stayed in the buggy, wringing her hands. “You oughtn’t to bother Mr. Redman.”

Jake shot her a quick, amused look. Did she think he’d shoot the kid for talking to him? “No bother, ma’am.” He glanced down at Johnny again. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”

But Johnny figured he knew what was what. “My ma says that since you saved that stage there’s probably some good in you somewhere.”

This time Liza called her brother’s name in a strained, desperate whisper. Jake had to grin. He shifted his attention to Sarah long enough to see that she was standing as stiff as a rod, with one eyebrow arched.

“That’s right kind of her. I’ll tell the sheriff about your trouble…Miss Conway. I reckon he’ll be out to see you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Redman. Good day.”

He tipped his hat to her, then to Liza. “See you around, Johnny.” He turned his horse in a half circle and rode away.

“Yessir,” Johnny shouted after him. “Yessiree.”

“John Cody.” Liza collected herself enough to climb out of the buggy. Johnny just grinned and raced off after the puppy again, firing an imaginary Peacemaker. “That’s my brother.”

“Yes, I imagined it was.”

Liza gave Johnny one last look of sisterly disgust before going to Sarah. “Ma’s tending the store today. She wanted you to have this. It’s a loaf of her cinnamon bread.”

“Oh, how kind of her.” One whiff brought memories of home. “Can you stay?”

Liza gave Sarah the bread and a quick, dimpled smile. “I was hoping I could.”

“Come in, please. I’ll fix us some tea.”

While Sarah busied herself at the stove, Liza looked around the tiny cabin. It was scrubbed clean as a whistle. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” Instantly she lifted a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. Ma always says I talk too much for my own good.”

“That’s all right.” Sarah got out two tin cups and tried not to wish they were china. “I was taken by surprise myself.”

At ease again, Liza sat at the table. “I didn’t expect to run into Jake Redman out here.”

Sarah brought the knife down into the bread with a thwack. “Neither did I.”

“He said you had trouble.”

Unconsciously Sarah lifted a finger to her lips. They were still warm from his, and they tingled as her arms had from the kick of the Henry. She had trouble, all right. Since she couldn’t explain the kiss to herself, she could hardly explain it to Liza. “Someone set fire to my shed last night.”

“Oh, Sarah, no! Who? Why?”

“I don’t know.” She brought the two cups to the table. “Fortunately, Mr. Redman happened to be riding by this way.”

“Do you think he might have done it?”

Sarah’s brow rose as she considered the possibility. She remembered the way he’d bathed her face and tended her hurts. “No, I’m quite certain he didn’t. I believe Mr. Redman takes a more direct approach.” “I guess you’re right about that. I can’t say he’s started any trouble here in Lone Bluff, but he’s finished some.”