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Her eyes clouded. “Then I would never have let you into my house last night,” she whispered. “’Cause I’ve never met a man with more strings tied around him than you’ve got!”

Chase’s head snapped upward but before he could reply, she marched out of the barn and up the short rise to the house. Kicking off her boots, she strode into the kitchen and poured herself a strong cup of coffee. Sitting at the table, she was angrily looking through the window and across the fields when she heard Chase enter.

“There’s coffee in the pot,” she said, glancing at him before looking out the window again.

“Thanks.” He poured a cup, took a long swallow, turned a chair around and straddled it while his eyes were focused on Dani. “I’m sorry,” he said gently.

“Don’t be.”

“I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

“No . . . it’s all right,” she said, thinking how close he’d come to the truth. She had been running from men, avoiding them, afraid of being hurt again. Blake’s betrayal had cut deep. In some ways both she and Cody were still bleeding.

“You want to talk about it?”

She lifted her shoulder and blew across the hot coffee. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe I can help.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. The tears she’d fought all morning formed in her eyes. “I do care about you,” he whispered. “More than I want to. Dani, just believe me: I love you.”

“If only it were that simple,” she said, her voice catching. Brushing aside her tears, she slowly withdrew her hand from his. “How about some breakfast?” she asked, hoping to lighten the thickening atmosphere in the room. “Ham and eggs?”

“Sounds great.” He leaned across the back of the chair and smiled at her, a warm, lazy grin that stretched across his face and stole into her heart. “And I still owe you dinner. How about tonight?”

“Tonight? Cody will be home.”

“He’s welcome, too.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dani said. Finishing her coffee, she got up from the table, took a few things from the refrigerator and pulled a cast-iron skillet from the cupboards. She cut thick slices of ham and slipped them into the fry pan. As she made breakfast, she was aware that Chase was silently sipping his coffee and watching her.

“The newspaper’s in the box,” she offered.

“Later. Right now I’m enjoying the view.”

“That sounds like a line, cowboy,” she remarked, looking over her shoulder but laughing nonetheless.

“It was.”

“At least you’re honest—” she said and dropped the egg she was cracking onto the floor. “Damn!”

“I’ve got it.” Chase got out of his chair, grabbed a wet dishrag and began mopping up the mess. Dani bent down to swipe at the floor with a couple of paper towels. “I try to be, y’know,” Chase said, when most of the broken egg had been placed in Runt’s bowl and the floor was clean again.

“Try to be?”

“Honest.”

“Oh.” Dani avoided his eyes and concentrated on the hash browns and ham and eggs that were still cooking on the stove. How desperately she wanted to believe him. Feeling his arms wrap around her waist and the warmth of his breath brush against her hair, she closed her eyes for a blissful second before opening them again and concentrating on the sizzling eggs.

“Careful,” she admonished gently. “I’d hate to spill this hot grease—”

“Dani . . .”

“What?” She turned in his arms and his lips caught hers, kissing her with a hunger that stole the breath from her lungs and left her weak with longing.

“You can’t deny what we feel for each other.”

“I haven’t. I’m just not sure I want to label passion as love.”

His thick brows lifted. “How much passion have you felt for other men?”

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