Michaela

Grounded By

Leanne Karella Contents Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven

Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter

Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Grounded: Michaela by Leanne Karella Prologue

The Triumvirate of Heaven's most revered archangels had been convened. This was not a good thing. Gabriel looked across the table toward Raphael, the healer, and saw the same concern in his eyes that filled his own soul. Michael, the judge, sat at the head of the table, his brow pulled into a tight frown. "What say you, Gabe?" Michael asked. "After all these two have done, will you still allow them to meddle in mortal life?" Gabriel hated being put on the spot. Especially by Michael. "I see no reason to follow through with His suggestion. That's all it was, a suggestion. You cannot believe that forcing them into mortal form will solve this problem." "Ah, the Angel of Mercy would give forgiveness once again." Michael tapped his finger on the gleaming white table. "Not this time, my friend. These two must be punished for their behavior." "Perhaps," Raphael spoke up tentatively, "this would work. If they see how difficult mortal life is, they would understand that their pranks are only causing harm to the poor creatures." "Michaela has done nothing wrong," Gabriel said with a shake of his head. Oh, how he hated to see that sweet angel sent to earth without her wings. "She is quiet. A follower. She simply picked the wrong angel to follow. It is Electra that must be punished, if there is any punishment to be had." "They go together." Michael's words were final. Harsh. "And what will they do?" Gabriel asked. "They know nothing of mortal life. They have never experienced fear or hunger or pain. They would not survive. And Michaela hasn't spent any time observing mortals. She knows nothing about them except what she's studied in the texts." A flicker of a smile lit Michael's lips. "We shall give them a book. One that will tell them all they need to know to survive as mortals." Gabriel shook his head again. "This is lunacy. Only angels who've made a conscious choice to become human have ever done it. Those that have lived

among them, cared for them. Michaela and Electra are so young. Young and foolish. Do not do this to them." "They have been here for two millennia. Is it not time they grew up?" Michael folded his hands together on the table. "They should have received their papers by now, yet they dawdle." "You cannot give them free will," Gabriel argued. "They would only get into more trouble than they're already in." Raphael spoke up once again. "They are already exhibiting free will. That is why He suggested they be sent to earth. To see what free will can do to the mortals. Without free will, they are safe, sheltered." "No. I cannot go along with this. I cannot see them suffer so." Michael rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "The decision has been made. He has already agreed to it." Gabriel's lips parted in astonishment. "Then why did you call the Triumvirate if the decision has already been made?" "You were called here to…" Michael didn't look so high and mighty now. "Because He wants these angels given a task. That is your job. You two must come up with something for them to do." "I have just the thing," Raphael said, his face lighting with a smile. "There is this small town in North America. I believe its called Unegi. I have a man there in desperate need of salvation." "These women cannot save someone. We're sending them there to save themselves." Raphael scowled at Michael. "I have faith in Michaela. She would be perfect for this man. His soul is dark, he's hurting. With her sweetness, she's sure to melt his hardened heart." "And the other one? The troublemaker?" Michael asked. Raphael tapped his finger on his chin. "What if we had her go somewhere where she saw true human suffering? So that she'd see life at its worst." "They need to stay together," Gabriel added. "If you separate them…" He shook his head once again. "I hate to think how bad it could become if they were truly alone down there." Raphael was thoughtful for several long moments. "I have it," he finally said. "There is a small medical clinic in this Unegi. It would be perfect. Where do you see human suffering more than those that are weak, ill or injured?" Gabriel nodded, liking this idea. "I think this might work." "Fine, fine," Michael said with a wave of his hand. "Set things up for them. Make sure they have the book of information."

"By the way," Gabriel said, "how long is their stay?" Michael raised an eyebrow at Gabriel. "For the rest of their mortal life, of course." "You mean," Raphael asked in horror, "they've been Grounded?"

Chapter One

"There it is," Electra said as she pointed down the long, hot road toward several buildings. Michaela nodded and flipped through the book. They'd been walking for what felt like forever. So far, she'd learned several things. First, mortal form was extremely uncomfortable. She felt…heavy. In the book, it said that gravity keeps the mortals attached to the earth. Gravity. Founded by some guy named Newton. Newton shouldn't have done that. It was much easier to float. "I can't believe they did this to us, can you?" Electra whined. She'd been whining a lot since they landed. Archangel Gabriel had come with them and tried to help them through the transition into their mortal bodies. Electra had simply whined the whole while, begging to be given one more chance. Michaela shrugged. This was their punishment. The next fifty or so earth years. They'd need to make the best of it. Besides, it could be exciting. She'd always wondered what it would be like to be a mortal. She wanted to experience emotions. How many times had she watched them cry or laugh? She wanted to feel whatever it was they felt. Electra's whining was obviously caused by emotion. She'd never done that before. Gabriel had warned them about hunger and pain. Hunger. She flipped through the book. Ah, here it is. An urgent need for food. Michaela frowned. "What do you think food is?" "How should I know what food is? Would you look at this?" Electra stopped walking and dropped the two small bags Gabriel had given them. Each bag had one of their names written in gold on the handles. He said it contained everything they'd need. He warned that the mortals would want identification to prove who they were. Identification. She flipped a few pages. The evidence of identity. She wrinkled her brow. Evidence? "I want my robe back. These…clothes are tight and they scratch my skin. My goodness. I have skin." Electra ran her hand up her arm. "It's very soft. I never would have imagined." Michaela looked down at her body. During angel training, what seemed like an eon ago, they learned a bit about the mortal body. From what she could tell, she was a woman. She had the protrusions from the chest that would

indicate mammary glands. Electra had them too. She didn't understand the clothing, though. Where Electra's clothes looked rather confusing, several pieces put together to look like one, hers were just two pieces. A white top that was fairly loose and felt nice when there was a breeze. On the bottom—she wrinkled her nose—her bottom was hot. The clothing was tight. Dark blue. And ran from her waist to her ankles. On her feet were some strange pointy-toed boots. Electra had pointy-toed shoes, but they made her taller. And she said they hurt. The bottom of Electra's clothing ended above the knees, which should have made her cooler, but then she had something over the shirt that covered her from neck to wrist. "Do you think they really wear this stuff?" Michaela asked as she picked up her small bag and deposited the book inside. Electra folded her arms over her chest. "I think they're playing a prank on us. I think that any minute now, Gabe is going to appear and ask us if we've learned our lesson. I say we just wait." She plopped down on top of her bag. "Besides. This pain thing is ridiculous. We shouldn't have to suffer this much just because we thought it would be funny to get those two people lost in the mountains." "You thought it would be funny," Michaela corrected. She sat down on her bag, too. Ahh, that felt better. She didn't feel quite so weighted down when she sat. "I told you to leave them alone. You never listen. So here we are. And you are just going to have to make the best of it, just as I have to." "Bah! Make the best of this?" Electra waved at her body. "Look at these things. Why would Gabe give us these?" She grabbed the mammary glands and lifted them. They did look rather odd. "And another thing, if they were going to stick us here, they could have at least left us with some of our gifts." "Mortals don't have gifts. They just…live." "How ridiculous." Michaela stood up and opened her bag. Besides the book, there were some papers that had 100 printed on them. She bypassed those and lifted out the other things. A little card that was coated in clear stuff. There was a picture on it. It said Michaela Smith. It also had some other numbers. Across the top it said Arizona. That's where they were, Gabe had told them. In a place called Unegi, Arizona. This must be the identification he'd talked about. There were other papers with numbers and such on them, all that said Michaela Smith. "Do you have these in your bag?" Michaela asked Electra. With a deep sigh, Electra stood up and opened her bag. She pulled out the clear-coated card. "Yes. I do. What is Smith, do you think?" Michaela shrugged. She took the card from Electra, looked at her face, then at her own card. "We look exactly alike."

Electra peeked over her shoulder to look at the cards. "Except your hair is all curly and black, where mine is straight and yellow." "And our eyes. Mine are green, yours are blue." Michaela touched her hair. It was soft and springy. Her lips curled up. A smile? She let it grow and a soft feeling invaded her chest. That must be a smile. She never would have guessed it would make her feel all fuzzy inside. A loud noise cut through the silence of the heat. Turning, they both looked down the road. An automobile. She'd seen them in books many times. It was noisy. White and brown on the side, and there were colorful lights on top. Just a few feet from them, it came to a stop and the noise cut off. The door opened and a man stepped out. He was large. Much larger than she and Electra. Michaela would have never guessed that humans were so big. He wore all brown clothing and had a huge black belt around his middle that held an assortment of…stuff. A gun! She recognized a gun. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. They'd been warned about guns. "Can I help you two ladies?" Oh no. And then, to Michaela's astonishment, the whole colorful world went black. ****

Ty Brock sat on the deep verandah of his ramshackle ranch house, a beer in one hand, a letter from the state parole board in the other. He took a deep swallow of the brew and sighed. It'd been three years since he'd had a beer. Damn, it tasted good. Scanning over the letter for about the tenth time in so many minutes, he expected a feeling of elation, of contentment. The feeling didn't come. He was a free man. He'd served his time— two years in county jail and another year reporting twice a week to a probation officer. So why didn't he feel free? Stryker, his oversized mutt, plopped down at his feet and groaned. "I know how you feel, bud." Ty placed his booted foot on Stryker's side and rubbed him. The dog moaned with pleasure and rolled to his back. Ty sighed. Nothing had changed. He might be legally free, but nothing had changed. He was still an ex-con with a gambling problem. A piece of paper from the state didn't change that. Leaning back in the Adirondack chair, he stared out over his small herd of cattle. A horse whinnied from within the barn. The scent of freshly cut alfalfa floated on the evening breeze. He breathed deeply, taking in the scents of his ranch. There wasn't much left of it, not after he'd finished paying off his gambling debts and lawyer. But what he had was all his. And someday, if he worked hard enough, it'd be bigger and better than what he had before all the trouble started. Time was all he needed.

Time, and a ranch hand to help him out. He'd placed the ad nearly a month ago but so far, no takers. No one wanted to work for a used up, dried up ex-rodeo star who'd done time for cattle thieving. Stryker jumped to his feet, leapt off the porch, and set up a snarling bark. Ty leaned forward in the chair to look down the long drive. Sure enough, a car was approaching. He slowly got to his feet. The last thing he wanted right now was a visitor. He tipped back the beer bottle and drained it, then folded the letter from the parole board and tucked it into his hip pocket. As the car grew closer, a tail of dust blew over the hay field from the road. It was the sheriff's cruiser. "Damn it all to hell," he muttered as he stepped off the porch. Trent Godfrey, Unegi's one and only lawman. A man who had once been his best friend. The man who'd arrested him and sent him to jail. Though he didn't hold the last against the sheriff. He'd only been doing his job. For years their relationship had been nonexistent, but ever since his release, Trent had tried to reestablish their friendship. This was probably another in-person request to join him and his family for a barbeque or something. The cruiser stopped a few feet short of Ty. Trent turned to his passenger and said something before he shut off the engine. The passenger, a woman, peeked out the windshield then nodded. The woman wasn't Trent's wife, Lina. Lina had long golden hair and striking gray eyes. All he could see of this woman was a head full of black curls. Trent opened the door and got out. Stryker's hackles went on end and he growled low in his throat, but never left Ty's side. "Hush, you beast," Ty quietly commanded. Stryker dropped to his haunches but the low rumble continued. "Hey, Ty." Trent came forward and held out his hand. Ty shook his hand. "Trent." Trent's gaze went unerringly to the beer bottle sitting on the porch rail. Ty's temper rose a notch. "Got my letter from the parole board today. I can drink now." Trent nodded. "Good to hear it." Damned if he didn't sound sincere. How could he stay ticked at someone who was simply looking out for him? "So, to what do I owe this visit?" Trent ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, now, that's the odd thing." He glanced back at the car. "Got a woman who's looking for you. She and her sister were sitting on the side of the road this morning just outside of town. The sister—I'm pretty sure they're twins—says she wanted to go to the clinic. She said that Stephen was looking for someone to work in the office. And this one, her name's Michaela, said she needed to find you." Stryker let out a barking snarl. Ty nudged him with his knee. The dog had

no manners whatsoever. "Why would some chick be looking for me?" Trent cast an uneasy glance at the cruiser. "I don't know. This one passed out. I think it might be from the heat. The other one, her name's Electra, said they'd been out there a long time." Trent stepped a bit closer, dropping his voice. "She's a little odd. They both are. I'm going to run them through the computer when I get back. I don't think they're dangerous, they just seem a bit…off." Ty glanced at the car, his interest piqued. "How off?" He really couldn't see anything but pale skin and black hair. "She refused to see a doctor. And…this is the weirdest thing. She has this white book she keeps reading. If I ask her a question, she opens the book and reads something before she answers. I've asked her where they're from, she says far away. I ask her what business she has with you, she says she's here to help. I asked her if she has family, she shrugged like she didn't know." "Did you talk to Stephen about the other one?" "He's dealing with a case of summer flu, and the clinic was packed. He didn't even stop to ask questions, just sat her down at the reception desk and put her to work. This one refused to see him, even though she'd passed out. She just insisted on seeing you. Made it sound like it was a matter of life and death, though she didn't say as much. So I brought her out. Thought maybe you knew her." Ty shrugged. "So, let her out of the car and let's see what she wants." Trent headed for the passenger door. "Better keep that mutt of yours under control. She's an itty bitty thing, probably doesn't weigh any more than the dog." Ty placed his hand on Stryker's collar to hold him in place. Trent opened the passenger door, and the woman stepped out. She wasn't that small, perhaps five-foot-two or so. She wore skintight jeans that showed off nicely shaped hips and long legs. A white blouse pulled tight across ample breasts. Ty's interest was more than piqued. As he studied her face, stunning was the only word he could think of. Her skin was milky white, her eyes a brilliant green. And that hair. My God, there was a lot of it. An endless amount of thick curls fell over her shoulders and down her back. As for her age? He had no idea. She had one of those perfect faces that could be anywhere from eighteen to thirty-five. Not a wrinkle in sight but she didn't look like a youngster either. He racked his brain, trying to remember ever seeing anyone like this before. He'd spent years on the road with the rodeo, and he'd had his share of women, more than his share really. But he was positive if he'd ever met this one, he'd remember her. "Ty Brock?" she asked, running his first and last name together as if it were one word. Her voice was soft, almost musical. A shiver ran down his back.

He nodded. "I'm Ty Brock. What can I do for you?" As she stepped forward, he held out his hand to shake hers. She hesitated for an instant, then thrust her hand out, almost as if mimicking him. "I'm here to help." In her other hand she held what looked like a medical bag, something from a hundred years ago. Releasing Stryker's collar, he took a step toward her and folded her small, soft hand in his. There it was. That feeling of relief he'd expected to find when he read the letter from the parole board. He snatched his hand back. "Help with what?" His voice was a bit gruffer than he intended, but the sensation that'd sprung through him when he touched her unnerved him. She glanced at the front of the house, at the barns across the wide yard, at the cattle pasture. Then her amazing green gaze settled back on him. "You need help. I'm here." Wait just a second. She was here about the job? A soft chuckle came out as he thrust his hands in his jeans pockets. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm looking for a ranch hand. No offence, but I need a man for the job. You're…a bit on the small side." She licked her lips, very full, sensual lips. Not that he was noticing those things. Nope. Women weren't for him any more. He gave those up along with the gambling. They only led to trouble. "I was told to come here and help you." Her brow wrinkled into a pretty little frown. "Who told you to come here?" "Gabriel." Ty shook his head. "I don't know anyone named Gabriel." She glanced around again, this time as if looking for help. "No, I suppose you don't." She returned her gaze to his face. "But I assure you, I need to be here." Ty glanced at Trent who stood behind the woman. Trent shrugged. He wasn't going to be any help. "What is it you're supposed to help me with? Are you from the Phoenix Agri School?" He'd sent them a letter asking about mixing certain breeds of cattle. Perhaps they'd sent one of the students. "No." "Where are you from?" "Far away." Ty let out a long breath. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I just don't think I can use your help at this time. I'm looking for someone to work the ranch with me."

She bit her bottom lip. Her gaze dropped to his side. "A dog," she whispered. Then she fell to her knees and held out her arms to Stryker. And the mangy mutt, who didn't like anyone, practically jumped into her arms, knocking her to the ground. Stryker licked her face, waggled his crooked tail, and whined like a damned puppy as the woman ran her hands over his humungous head and back. Ty grabbed his chest as her sweet laugh sent a physical ache through him. "Hey, buddy," Trent said as he grabbed Ty's arm. "What's wrong?" Ty shut his eyes for a moment, closing out the sight of this weird little woman rolling on the ground with his dog. "You need to go see Doc?" Ty shook his head. "I'm fine." Her laughter rang in his ears. "I'm fine. I think. The beer," he qualified. "I drank that beer. Haven't had a drink in three years." He laughed it off with a nervous chuckle. "Guess I'm officially a lightweight now." Trent let go of him and he sank down onto the porch steps. He took a deep breath. The ache was gone. Whoa. Gotta get this woman outta here, pronto . She was lying on her back in the dirt, seemingly unaware that she was now covered in dust, while Stryker sprawled over her, panting, his head resting on her breasts. The damn mutt looked as content as a kitten. "What do you want me to do with her?" Trent whispered. "I'll take care of her." Ty's eyes widened as he turned toward Trent. Where had that come from? He wanted her off his property. "Maybe I can get her to do some housekeeping or something." He literally bit his tongue before he said anything else. Trent raised his eyebrows. "You sure?" Ty nodded. He hadn't meant to. "If her sister's working for Stephen, then she's going to need a job, too." He buried his face in his hands. Words were coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. Maybe he'd finally gone over the edge. Maybe that beer had done him in. Whatever it was, he had to get Trent to take the woman with him when he left. He raised his head to ask Trent to take her. "Besides, when have you seen Stryker take to anyone like that?" Holy shit! "Yeah, you're right on that. He's acting like a puppy rather than the temperamental beast he usually is." Take her. "She'll be fine." "You're sure? I'll let you know what kind of report comes back on her and her sister. Where will she stay? It's a long way back into town from here." No. Take her. Take her back to her sister. "The ad I placed stated room and board. Lord knows, I've got plenty of room." Ty squeezed his eyes shut. He'd lost his mind.

"Okay, then. I'll be going. Lina's expecting me for supper tonight." Ty nodded. "Lina says to remind you that you're invited out on Saturday night for a barbeque. Jess's birthday. She's turning sixteen." This time Ty's faculties didn't fail him. "Thanks, Trent, but I don't think so." "Come on, Ty. You've got to stop hiding out here. You never come into town." Ty snorted. "No one wants to see my mug in that town. Not after what I've done." "You're wrong, Ty. We worry about you." "You worry about me. No one else does." Trent sighed and headed for his cruiser. "You're wrong. Lina worries, and my mom, too. And Stephen. We want you back." Ty shook his head. "Thanks anyway." "Miss Michaela, I'm leaving now," Trent said to the woman on the ground, the dog pinning her down. She grinned up at Trent. "All right." "You're sure you want to stay here?" Trent glanced at Ty as if he couldn't decide whether or not to leave the woman in his care. Ty opened his mouth again to tell him to take her, but all that came out was, "She'll be fine." "Oh, yes," the woman said. "This is where I belong." She gently nudged Stryker off her and stood up. "Thank you for the ride, Trent Godfrey. I much appreciate it." She'd said Trent Godfrey the way she'd said Ty Brock, like one word. Trent nodded. "Have a good day, then." He pulled a card from his shirt pocket. "My number is on here if you need anything."

Chapter Two

Michaela watched Trent Godfrey pull away then stared at the tiny paper card he'd handed her. His number. How very odd. How was she to use a number if she needed him? Not that she thought she'd need him. She'd found Ty Brock. Now she had to figure out what his problems were and fix them. She sighed. This business of helping people was harder than she thought it would be.

She turned around and found Ty Brock still sitting on the steps. He absently ran his hand over the dog's head and stared at her with a strange expression on his face. Water prickled her forehead and the back of her neck. She looked up at the crystalline blue sky. How could there be water on her forehead when it wasn't raining? She wiped her hand over her brow. Earth was a lot stranger than she would have imagined. When looking at it from up there—she glanced up at the sky again—it was so blue. It wasn't blue here. It was brown and red and green. Only the sky was blue. It was starting to get dark, the sun setting. She'd heard about that. Time, hours passing, day and night, but up there, it didn't get dark. "Want a beer?" Ty Brock asked. A beer. She went to the bag she'd dropped when she played with the dog. She liked the dog. He was friendly. Ty Brock didn't seem especially friendly. She didn't think he liked her much. She pulled her book from the bag and looked up beer. Alcoholic beverage made from grain, brewed by slow fermentation. Hm. Beverage. Drink. Thirst. She put it all together. You drink it. She noticed for the first time that her throat felt a bit scratchy and her tongue wasn't as moist as it once had been. "Yes. A beer. Thank you." She slipped the book back into the bag and picked it up. Ty Brock still sat on the step, his brows pulled into a frown. He had the strangest colored eyes. She'd seen blue, brown and green, and one lady at the clinic where she'd left Electra had gray, but his were an odd shade of brown. Almost a tiny bit red. Like some of the colors in the mountains. Rust, she thought it was called. "Where did you say you were from?" Ty Brock asked. "Far away," she answered, once again. Why did everyone keep asking her that? No one would believe the truth. Gabriel had warned them. But she couldn't exactly lie either. That was against the rules, too. Well, His rules, anyway. She knew that mortals lied a lot. He frowned on it, though it wasn't the worst sin that could be committed. "How far away? California or New York? Europe maybe?" Oh dear, he wasn't going to accept this. Mortals were a curious lot. They always wanted to know how everything worked. She'd spent quite some time reading about these people they call scientists. Trying to figure out how evolution worked. A little noise slipped out of her, startling her. A laugh? That felt kind of good. Anyway, mortals would never figure out evolution. "You probably should come inside, out of the heat. Trent said you passed out earlier." "Yes." She'd fainted. Losing a piece of time was definitely an experience. First she was staring at Trent Godfrey's gun, then she was in his car. Ty Brock stood up. "Come on, then." He walked into the house. The dog followed.

She walked up the steps and through the door. Inside it was cool and dark. Breathing became easier. The dog's tail thumped against her legs. She'd always wanted to touch a dog. Special creatures, they were. Put on earth to be companion to the mortals. Though mortals rarely understood them. A design flaw to be sure, though she didn't know if it was a flaw in the mortals, or the animals. Probably the mortals. "Well, shut the door," Ty Brock said. "No need to cool off the great outdoors." She pushed the door shut and followed him through a big room with sitting furniture. There were books on the table near the big sitting thing. Books. She loved books. You could learn so much from them. Through another door, they were in a white room. The floor, the walls, well, they were actually kind of gray. He opened a door on a rectangular box and pulled out a bottle. "Here. Though, now that I think of it, if you've got heat exhaustion, beer's probably not the best for you." She took the bottle from him. It was cold. She smiled and held it against the skin of her neck. "Oh, that feels lovely." She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation as the bottle cooled her skin. She wished she could be completely surrounded by this coolness. Fingers touched her and she jumped back from surprise. "Easy there," Ty Brock said as he stepped toward her. He touched her forehead again, then her cheek. "I think you've gotten yourself overheated. Maybe you should go take a cool bath." His touch—oh dear, oh dear. She could feel his touch in her stomach. That couldn't be normal. He touched her head, and her stomach tickled. She was sure that was a tickle. She wanted to smile, to laugh, but her face felt like it didn't work. "Are you scared of me?" Ty Brock asked. His forehead did that frown thing again. "I'm not an axe murderer or anything. You're the one who came here looking for work." "No. I'm not scared of you," she said. She wasn't sure what fear felt like, but she was pretty sure she wasn't feeling that right now. She had no idea what she was feeling, but fear—fight or flight—wasn't making her tummy tickle. She took a deep breath, and a smell made her nose flare. She was smelling him. And he smelled very pleasant, not like the cows. She knew that smell. It was their excrement. Or the dog, which smelled earthy. He smelled like…well, Trent Godfrey had smelled kind of the same. But Ty Brock's smell was unique. Then her stomach did something even odder than the tickle. It felt like it was rolling and a horrid sound came from it. She glanced down at herself. It hadn't moved. Oh dear, her mortal body wasn't working properly. A sound came out of Ty Brock and she looked up. He was smiling at her. The skin near his eyes crinkled up. He must be what's called handsome.

"You're hungry. Why don't you go take a bath? I'll throw on some steaks. The bathroom's down the hall." He pointed at the room they'd come through. The one with the books. She nodded, but didn't know what a bathroom was. Or a bath she was supposed to take. "There's a robe on the back of the door,"—he glanced at the black bag she held—"in case you don't have anything to wear." Robe. A piece of clothing she understood. She had the clothes on her, but she had noticed she didn't have any more. She thought mortals changed their clothes every day. She nodded again, then turned away, taking her cold bottle and her bag with her. ****

"Wonder what turnip truck that woman fell off of," Ty muttered as he pulled two steaks from the fridge he'd thawed that day. He scrounged through the vegetable bin and found a couple potatoes that hadn't grown too many eyes. He couldn't figure her out. She'd gone to that book when he asked her if she wanted a beer. Trent was right, she was odd. Well, if she could cook and clean, it wouldn't be too bad having a woman around. She was easy on the eyes, that was for sure. With all that hair and that body. God, she had a great body. He wished he could see this twin sister of hers. Two of them, well, that thought made him grin. He lit the grill on the back porch and closed the lid so it would heat. After scrubbing the potatoes and popping them in the microwave, he took the steaks outside. Just as he was stepping out the door, he realized he hadn't heard the water come on. In this old house, the pipes tended to squeal and rattle. The steaks on the grill, he went down the hall toward the bathroom. The door was open and there she sat, fully clothed still, on the closed toilet lid, flipping through that book of hers. What the hell kind of book was it? The cover was white leather, with absolutely no writing on it. "Something wrong?" he asked. She glanced up at him. "A room containing a bathtub or shower and usually a sink or toilet." She glanced around, then pointed at the tub. "Bathtub." She pointed at the sink. "Sink." She stood up and pointed at the commode. "Toilet." Oh, man, the heat had really fried her brain. "Yes," he answered slowly. "You defecate and urinate in the toilet." She pushed the leaver to flush it. "I figured that one out." Then she turned to the sink, but simply shook her head. "I don't understand this or the bathtub." "Did you live on the moon?" Ty went to the sink and turned the knobs. "Cold. Hot." He pointed to each. The tub is the same. Exasperated, he shook his head. "Are you okay? Are you sure you don't need to go see Doc?"

"Doctor, for helping heal the sick. I'm not sick." She looked up at him with those bright green eyes, frowned, then touched her stomach. "I don't think I am." Trent squeezed his eyes shut. He was in way over his head with this one. She couldn't turn on a sink, how was she supposed to clean the house? She had to go. There was no doubt about it now. He'd let her stay the night, then in the morning he'd call Trent to come get her. "I smell something." Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed. "Damn it!" He ran from the room, down the hall to the back porch. Smoke poured from the grill when he lifted the lid. "Ah, hell." He used the barbeque fork to turn the slabs of meat. One side was burned crispy black. He hated well-done meat. An hour later, as he sat at the kitchen table, Ty wondered if she'd drowned. The water had turned off nearly thirty minutes ago. He wouldn't put it past her. What was her story? Why would she answer an ad she couldn't fill? Then again, she didn't seem to be too bright. She probably didn't have a clue what a ranch hand was. Reaching behind him to the counter, he grabbed the phone and dialed Trent's number. He'd have Trent come out tonight and get her. He couldn't have her in the house. Besides the fact she was missing a few screws, she was just…too damn pretty. He hadn't been around a woman in over three years. Being in close quarters with one, especially one that looked at him with bright green eyes and had a smile that could melt the oldest glacier, was not a good thing at all. "Godfrey," Trent answered the phone. "Hey, it's Ty. About this woman…" Trent cleared his throat. "What about her?" "She's…" Not all there. She couldn't even turn on the tap. She acted as if she'd never flushed a toilet before. "She's pretty amazing." It was happening again. "Really? That's kind of what Stephen said about the sister." Ty struggled to form the words. Please come get her. I can't have her here. I'm worried about my control, though he hated to admit it. She turned him on. Big time. Her virtue was at stake with him. He chuckled. She had to be around thirty. Thirty-year-old women didn't have virtue, did they? "You okay, Ty? You're sounding a little funny." Come get her, please! "Yeah, everything's great. She's a real sweetheart." Oh, great, he'd never called a woman that to another man in his whole life. But come to think of it, she was kind of sweet, in a really flaky, can't-take-care-of-herself kind of way. She probably needed someone to take care of her. Whoa! No way. No thank you. I can barely take care of

myself, I'm not taking on any homeless idiots. She's not an idiot, though. She can read. What the hell is that book of hers? Maybe she's from some foreign country that didn't have plumbing. But she spoke perfect English. "Ty? You still there?" "Did the sister say where they're from?" "Some small island near Iceland. That's what Stephen said she said." "Ah, that would explain it. She'd never seen indoor plumbing before." Feeling much better now, Ty bid Trent a goodnight and hung up the phone. Iceland. He went into the living room and pulled down the world atlas from the bookshelf. He was right. Iceland was an island in the Atlantic. Okay, that explained a lot. He could forgive the confusion over the bathroom. The book must be some sort of Icelandic translation thing. He heard the bathroom door open and he turned toward it. Oh dear God above, he was in trouble. His black terry cloth robe engulfed her diminutive form, but what he could see of her skin was milky white and smooth as a newborn. She'd knotted the belt around her curvaceous middle, but it gaped open at the neck, revealing a great expanse of skin. The top slope of her breasts, all round and gorgeous. And her calves. He'd never seen shapelier, sexier calves in his life. "I think I'm really hungry," she said in that whisper-soft voice. "My stomach feels a little strange." "Right." He shoved the atlas onto the shelf. Here he was ogling her and she was probably starving to death. "Food's ready. I'll just reheat it in the microwave." ****

Michaela followed Ty Brock into the white room again, and he told her to have a seat. She figured that was like taking a bath, she wasn't supposed to take it, just use it. The bath had felt glorious. The cool water had chilled her skin, removing the hot stickiness she'd felt since her arrival. There'd been a green bottle on the edge of the tub, and she'd followed the directions on it. She'd lathered it in her hair and it had foamed and trickled onto her skin. It kind of smelled like Ty Brock. But he had other smells too, ones she couldn't identify yet. She rinsed it out and repeated the process, just like the bottle said to, but she decided to stop at two times or she'd have been in there all night. Ty Brock set a small platter of stuff in front of her, and one on the other side of the table. Steam rose from it, and the scent made her stomach rumble even louder. Her mouth watered. She'd read about this…something about saliva preparing your mouth for food. He went to the white rectangle and pulled out a clear…vase? of something brown. Then he poured it into two smaller vases and set one in front of her. There were silver implements next to the plate. She had no idea what to do

with them. On her plate was a black thing and a brown thing. She reached out and touched the brown lump. She jerked back, her finger hurt. "Careful," Ty Brock said, "it's hot." He sat down across from her, picked up the implement that looked like a little devil's fork, speared it into the black thing, then picked up the other silver thing that was long and flat, and sawed at the black thing. Then he put the black thing into his mouth using the silver thing and chewed. He swallowed, then looked up at her. "I thought you were hungry. Sorry about the steak, it got a little too done on the outside." Michaela picked up the devil's fork and the flat thing and mimicked Ty Brock's motions. It was difficult, but she sawed off a piece of the…he called it steak. It was red inside and her stomach made another weird tug, only this time, she felt her throat try to close. Red juice oozed from where she'd cut it. Blood. She just knew that was blood. She dropped the fork thing and pushed back from the table. "What is it? What's wrong?" Ty Brock asked as he came to his feet and then knelt next to her chair. He touched her cheek again, but she stared at the blood oozing over the platter. "What…" She cleared her throat that felt thick and tight. "What is that?" Ty Brock glanced at her plate. "Oh, great," he said as he sat back on his heels. "I suppose you're one of those vegetarian people, aren't you?" He came to his feet then plopped down in his chair. His face had changed. His eyes didn't look as warm and nice. She could see the muscle of his jaw working as he glared at her. "This is a cattle farm, lady. I raise cow. I eat cow. If you don't like it, you can just leave." "Cow?" she wailed. Hot water dripped from her eyes. Tears, she realized absently, as she stared at Ty Brock. "You're eating a cow?" Her stomach twitched again. "But…but how could you?" She looked out the window at the cows silhouetted against the evening sky. They were big and rather odd-looking creatures, but…but they were alive. ****

Ty watched tears course down her cheeks as she stared out at the cattle in the pasture. He was such an ass. He had to remember she wasn't from here. She couldn't even use the bathroom, for Christ's sake. Maybe they didn't eat meat where she was from. "Please stop crying." His voice was gruff. He cleared his throat. Jeez. Tears from a woman had never made him feel this way before. They cried if you didn't tell them the right words. If you hurt their feelings. If they wanted you to buy them something. He sighed. "Please stop crying," he said again. She swiped a hand over her eyes. "Why?" she asked. Her voice was soft, gentle. "Why would you eat them?" "Because they taste good."

She shuddered. "I can't." "Okay." He picked up her plate, grabbed a clean one from the cupboard, and put her potato on it. "You eat potatoes don't you?" "From the earth?" she asked. She wiped her still tearing eyes. "Yes." He set the potato in front of her. "Do you use butter and sour cream? I've heard that some of you…uh, what is you're called? Vegan? Don't eat anything from animals." She eyed the container of sour cream he held. "There's animal in there?" Dear Lord, give me patience. "No. It's made out of milk from a cow." "Milk." She jumped up from the table and disappeared around the corner. He set the sour cream down and dug into his food. She could eat or not eat, whatever she wanted. He was starving. They had to eat something in Iceland. Probably cabbage. That grows in cold climates, doesn't it? She came back to the table with that book. "Milk is fine." She smiled at him and damn it, his heart did a weird little flip in his chest. She set the book on the floor next to her chair and picked up the sour cream. She glanced at him, then used her fork to scoop out a huge blop on top of the potato. She jabbed the potato with the fork, then cut a slice off it with the knife. Then —jeez this woman had bad manners—she picked up the slice with her fingers and shoved it into her mouth, her eyes squinching tight as if she couldn't stand the thought of eating it. Her eyes popped wide open and she moaned. Actually moaned. His body went on alert, the sound just too damn intoxicating. He watched as she slowly chewed. Her tongue peeked out to lick a bit of sour cream from the corner of her lips. He pushed his chair back and stood up. He couldn't take this. Couldn't. Damned if he didn't want to grab her up and taste her. She licked her lips again as she cut another slice of potato. She slipped it into her mouth and her eyelids lowered as she savored the food. "Oh my goodness. I never would have guessed," she whispered as she cut another slice. "Guessed what?" He dumped his plate in the sink, turning his back on her. He was going to kiss her if he wasn't careful. What the hell was it about this woman? "Guessed that the taste of food would make me feel so good." He turned around and stared at her. She talked as if she'd never tasted food before. "What did you eat where you come from?" She carefully cut another slice of the potato. "Not much." His gaze dropped to her ample breasts. Malnourishment didn't seem to be a problem for her. "Do you want another one?"

She sent him a beautiful smile, her bright green eyes shining. "Oh, yes please."

Chapter Three

Something was wrong with her mortal body. Her eyelids kept falling. She couldn't seem to keep them open. She'd finished her potatoes—my, they tasted good—and Ty Brock taught her how to wash dishes. That's what he called them. The bubbles made her laugh, or maybe it was more of a giggle as they popped on her skin. Ty Brock looked at her strangely every time she laughed. As she stood next to him cleaning their dishes, sometimes his shoulder would brush hers. Her tummy tickled every time it happened. And he smelled so good. She wanted to get closer and see if the scent grew stronger if she could just sniff his skin, but every time she moved toward him, he moved away. She knew that mortals tended to be fickle. They liked some people, disliked others. Perhaps Ty Brock didn't like her. Now she sat on the couch, as he called it, and looked through an amazing book filled with pictures of animals and machines. The words were confusing. She didn't know who John Deere or Angus Beef were, but she liked the pictures. Her eyelids kept falling though, and her mind seemed to not work right. She wondered if the potatoes had made her sick. "You're tired," Ty Brock said. He sat down on a chair next to the couch. "I made up the guest room for you. It's nothing special, but the bed is comfortable." "Bed," she repeated. "Bed," he said carefully. "You sleep in it." He'd been doing that for a while now, speaking to her very slowly. Maybe whatever malady was affecting her eyes was making his speech slow. "Ah, yes, sleep." She'd forgotten about that. Mortals needed to sleep to resupply their energy. "Come on. I'll show you where the bedroom is." A room for a bed. Like a room for a bath? Interesting. These mortals were very unimaginative. She laid the book on the small table and followed him down the hall. He touched a button on the wall and a light came on. He'd done that in the place he called the living room, where the couch was. She examined the button. She pressed it down. The light turned off. She smiled.

"I suppose in Iceland they don't have electricity either?" "Ty Brock, why do you keep saying this thing, Iceland?" She pressed the button up and the light came back on. "Just call me Ty." He ran his hand through his hair. He had pretty hair, brown, but with many shades of brown to it. It looked very soft, and she really wanted to touch it to find out if it was like hers. She especially liked his eyes, though. When he smiled and the skin scrunched up next to them, he… Well, that made her tummy tickle too. "I hate to ask this, but I don't remember your name." "Michaela." She went to the bed, the only sitting furniture in the room, and sat down. It seemed awfully large. "Not Ty Brock?" "Just Ty." His gaze kept roaming around the room. He didn't look at her. He must not like her at all. That made her stomach do another weird thing. It kind of clenched up and hurt a little. She really didn't like this pain thing. Had she done something that made him dislike her? She tried to think over the whole evening, but she was tired, like he said. Maybe it was because of the cows. Could he dislike a person because she didn't want to eat them? "I'll, uh, throw your clothes in the wash. You don't have any more, do you?" "No. They didn't give me any." His gaze zeroed in on her now. His brows did that wrinkle thing again. "Who didn't give you any?" "Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael." "You said Gabriel sent you here. Where are these men?" He stepped closer to her, stood over her. The look in his eyes made her heart beat faster. "They…um…" His hands closed around her upper arms. His hands felt hot through the fluffy robe. "I want to talk to them. Do you have a phone number for them?" Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Not supposed to tell the mortals where she's from. "Michaela, please. I want to help you." She shook her head. "No, I'm here to help you. I don't need help." "What's your sister's name? Can I at least talk to her?" Sister. Sister. A relation. Trent Godfrey thought Electra was her sister. She'd heard him tell Ty that. "Electra. She's at the clinic. She's supposed to work for Stephen Webb. He's a doctor. She has to learn about pain."

His brow wrinkled again. She wondered if it was an affliction he couldn't control. She reached up to touch his forehead, but he stepped back, releasing her arms. The loss of his touch made her sad. Not like when she realized he was eating a cow, but inside she felt…bad. "Okay." He turned toward the door. "Get some sleep. Morning comes early on a ranch." Just past the threshold he turned back. "I take it you don't cook at all." Since she didn't know what cook meant, she shook her head. "Do laundry? Run a vacuum cleaner? Mop a floor?" "No." "What can you do?" He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I can learn," she answered earnestly. He couldn't send her away. She knew about jobs and earning her keep. In order to stay with him, she'd have to make herself useful. Gabriel should have shown her what she needed to know before leaving her here. There's a lot of things Gabriel should have told her. She briefly wondered how Electra was handling things. Michaela couldn't imagine Electra bursting into tears over eating cows. "You can learn. Well, darlin', I sure hope so." He sighed, then turned away and went down the hall. Michaela turned off the light. She rather liked the dark, having never experienced it before. She sat on the edge of the bed, then slowly laid back. "Oh my goodness, that feels nice." ****

Ty stopped a few steps down the hall at Michaela's soft exclamation. His body tightened and sweat popped out on his forehead. It'd been so damn long since there'd been a woman in his house, in his bed. How was he going to handle having one that looked like her around without touching her? He should have told Trent to put her back in the car and take her back into town. Let her be someone else's problem. But he'd tried, he thought as he headed toward the bathroom. He'd opened his mouth to tell Trent to take her back, and the wrong words had come out. Protective instincts he hadn't even known existed inside him had come out. She looked at everything as if it were new to her, and deep inside, he was worried that someone would take advantage of her. Her clothes were scattered around the bathroom. On the towel rack was a lacy pink bra and panties. His heart rate sped a bit more. Her jeans and blouse were on the floor. Socks and boots lay haphazardly against the wall. This was a woman who was going to be his housekeeper? He chuckled. Why did he get the feeling she'd never even cleaned up after herself? That black bag of hers sat on the counter. After only a moment's hesitation, he opened it. If she wasn't going to tell him anything, he'd have to figure it out on his own, even if going through her belongings made him feel a little queasy. He wasn't a snoop by nature. But in point of fact, if Michaela, who

had never said her last name, wouldn't tell him where she was from, he'd have to find out on his own. The bag was practically empty. He pulled out two pieces of identification. An Arizona driver's license which said her last name was Smith and she was thirty-one years old, and a social security card. He studied the driver's license. The address listed on it was…his. A chill zinged through him, and goose bumps popped out on his arms. That was just too odd to comprehend. She'd said she'd been sent to help him by someone named Gabriel. But why would her residential address on her identification be his? He dropped the ID back into the bag and pulled out a banded wad of bills. One hundred dollar bills. He thumbed through them. There had to be five grand there. Feeling tired and even more confused, he put the money back into the bag, gathered up her clothing, and carried everything into the kitchen. He dumped the clothes into the washer, then decided he might as well wash what he was wearing too, and stripped down to his underwear and threw everything in. Spotting Michaela's white book under the chair at the table, he picked it up and opened it. This was even worse. The writing looked like the hieroglyphics up in the cave at Devil's Peak. Squiggles, lines, pictographs. He didn't know anything about Icelandic language, but he was pretty sure they at least had an alphabet. Putting the book in the black bag, he left it on the table. He'd have to pin her down for answers. He didn't want someone living in his house that had secrets. Especially if she was a criminal or something. Just getting off probation, the last thing he wanted was to go back to jail for harboring a fugitive. He made a mental note to call Trent again in the morning. Hopefully he'd have heard something about these women. Stryker scratched at the back door. Ty picked up his boots to take to his room, and then opened the door to let the dog in. Stryker skidded through the door and ran down the hall, right into Michaela's room. "Stryk, you dumb mutt, come here," Ty said in a loud whisper as he headed down the hall. "Oh, you're such a good dog," Michaela was saying as he peered into her room. Stryker was up on the bed snuggled against her. Her arms were around the dog, her head resting on the pillow next to the dog's. "Stryker," he said, a bit more forcefully. The dog's tail thumped against Michaela's leg, but he didn't bother to even look guilty. Ty never let Stryker up on the furniture. Michaela lifted her head and smiled through the darkness. "It's all right, Ty," she whispered. "He can sleep with me, if that's what he wants." Temper flaring, Ty ground his teeth. The dog didn't belong in bed with her,

he did! Whoa. He wasn't going to sleep with this woman. No way, no how. "It's okay, isn't it?" she asked, concern in her voice. What the hell? He shrugged. "You'll smell like dog in the morning." "Oh, it's okay. I'll just take another bath." She laid her head back to the pillow and snuggled up closer to the dog. "He's such a great dog. I've always wanted one." Ty leaned against the doorframe. "Oh yeah? How come you didn't have one?" There was a long pause. "Animals weren't for…um…I wasn't allowed." Frowning, Ty folded his arms, then looked down at himself. Shit. He was standing here in his underwear having a conversation with a woman who made his nerve endings sizzle. "Goodnight," he said quickly, and headed to bed. Alone. He didn't even have his dog. ****

Oh no, oh no, oh no. She'd really done it this time! She lifted yet another white piece of clothing from the laundry basket. How had all of Ty's work clothes turned white? They were blue and red and green and brown when she put them in the washer. Now they were white. All white. She pinned it onto the clothesline. He was going to be so mad. She couldn't do anything right. She'd been there for four days, and she'd ruined everything she touched. Brushing another tear from her eye, she pulled out a pair of his work jeans. White. They used to be blue. He was going to send her away for sure this time. He'd been asking dozens of questions these past few days, all questions she couldn't answer. Mostly about this Iceland place she was supposedly from. He said that Electra told the doctor they were from Iceland. She didn't know where Iceland was, and it didn't sound like a place to live, anyway. Ice land. How horrible. She wouldn't want to live on a land of ice. He asked about her book. He said he'd looked at it, wanted to know what language it was in. She couldn't admit to him that she could read any language. That the book Gabriel gave her was written in the Greater Language. Someday, even mortals would use the Greater Language. When all the mortals came together as one, quit their warring and separation, the Greater Language would finally be the Universal language as it was meant to be. Until then, only non-mortals and a select few prophets could read the Greater Language. And until then, only non-mortals were able to read, write and speak every language known to the mortals. But how could she tell that to

Ty Brock? She couldn't, not without revealing where she was from. And it wasn't from a land made of ice. "What in the hell have you done, woman?" Oh no, oh no, oh no! "I'm sorry, Ty." She held up a shirt. It had once been blue and red checkered. Now it was white with only a hint of the original pattern to it. "I don't know what happened. I put them in and they were colors, but they came out all white." At his silence, she looked up at him. He stood a few feet away, his hands planted on his lean hips, his brow pulled into a frown. And he stared at her head, not the clothes hanging on the line. Oh. "I cut off my hair." "Why would you do something like that?" His gaze roamed over her head, his frown growing worse. She really did hate it when he frowned. And he obviously hated what she'd done to her hair. "It was always getting in my way." "It looks like you used the lawn mower on it." Tears stung her eyes. They did that a lot. She tried to blink them back but they came anyway. Ty Brock hated her. He hated everything about her. She couldn't do anything right, and now he hated her hair. "I used the scissors." "The kitchen shears?" He looked incensed. She nodded. "Gawd almighty, woman, you make me nuts." His hands dropped from his hips. He shook his head and moved toward her. "Don't cry." It sounded like an order, but for the life of her, she couldn't stop the tears. She tried so hard. This mortal stuff was too difficult. She didn't understand most of it. She wanted to go Home. A sob escaped her lips and she turned away, embarrassed. She'd watched television with Ty in the evenings, and she'd learned that crying was a sign of weakness. And boy, was she weak. "Don't cry, Michaela," he said softly. "I'm sorry. It's not that bad." "Yes it is," she wailed. "It's horrible. But it was so hot and it stuck up all over the place. You're wrong, though, the lawn looks better than my head." Ty's hands closed over her shoulders. She thought about pulling away, but his touch felt so good. His hands were so big and gentle. "Hey," he whispered. And then he did the most amazing thing. He turned her around and pulled her against him. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It just surprised me is all." His arms were around her, his big hands splayed open on her back. She could pinpoint each individual finger as his touch was forever branded on her. She wished she wasn't wearing a shirt so she could feel them against

her skin. Tentatively she settled her cheek against his shoulder. His arms went more fully around her and kind of snuggled her close. He felt so good. So hard, yet not hard. His right hand came up and touched her head. His fingers gently pulled through her curls. "Damn, your hair is soft. I'm glad you didn't make it any shorter than this." A weird tingly tug went through her as his hot breath fanned against her forehead and his fingers rubbed her scalp. His breath smelled of mint and coffee. His body smelled of the bottle of spicy stuff in the bathroom. But there was more to his scent than the spice from the bottle. It was warmer. Sweeter. It made her feel a little dizzy. Slowly, she lifted her hands and placed them on his sides. Oh my goodness. He felt so different than she did. Where she was soft, he was firm. Carefully, hoping he wouldn't notice, she trailed her hands around to his back. Oh my goodness! He was so different. And as her body leaned against his, she felt…strange. Like little fireflies were flitting around inside her, lighting her up here and there. Warming her, tickling her. ****

Dangerous ground you're on, Brock, he warned himself. But holy shit, she felt good. And smelled good. He buried his nose in her feather-soft curls and breathed her in. She used his shampoo, but beneath that, she smelled like cinnamon cookies and hot apple pie. He was aroused to the point of pain and was so tempted to throw her down on the grass and take her. Take her like he'd never had another woman. Hard and hungry and hot. So damn hot. He wanted to feel her skin against his. Hear her cry out his name in pleasure. Her hair looked ridiculous. She'd cropped it off just above her shoulders, and she reminded him of a poodle that needed a trim. He'd loved her long hair, but who the hell cared about hair when her breasts were pressed against his chest and he could feel her hard little nipples. When her hands slipped down over his waist and grabbed his ass, though, reality sprang in. He'd sworn off women. Gambling, hard liquor, and women. He gave them up three years ago. Even for this sweet piece of femininity, he wasn't willing to fall off the wagon. He gripped her shoulders and gently pushed her away. "No." Bright green eyes stared up at him. "No?" God help him, she looked… Hell, she looked like a woman who was begging for it. Her eyes were shining, her face flushed, her breasts pressed against her white blouse with every deep breath. And damn it all to hell, she wasn't wearing her bra! "No," he reconfirmed, his voice harsh. "Sorry, sweetheart. Nothing against you." Her brow wrinkled. "I don't understand."

"What's there not to understand?" he said as he let go of her and took a couple of steps back. "I don't want you. I don't need a woman in my life. You're nothing but an addiction, just like the gambling. I gave women up. So don't try this again. Keep your hands to yourself." He could see her nipples through the white blouse. They were hard, dark, begging for his lips. "You touched me first!" His gaze swept up to her face. She was furious. Her eyes blazed and her pretty white teeth were clenched. So were her fists. "You grabbed my ass. I was giving you a hug to apologize for making fun of the hatchet job on your hair." "Some apology." Her fisted hands went to her hips. Her shirt pulled against her breasts. His arousal throbbed even as his temper flared. "Hell. You could have taken the truck into Unegi and had someone cut it that knew what they were doing instead of attacking it with kitchen shears." "Why do you care about my hair? It's on my head. Do I say anything about your hair?" He planted his own fists on his hips. "What's wrong with my hair? Besides, I'm the one that's got to look at you all day." "You've been hiding in the barn for three days. You barely look at me at all." "That's because I don't want you!"

Chapter Four

Gabriel, help me! She didn't know what to say or do. He really hated her. He wanted her gone. And she'd just shouted at him. Oh, this was not a good thing. Tears stung her eyes, and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. Maybe she should leave. What did it really matter, anyway? Ty seemed fine. She didn't know what she was doing here. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with him, except that she made him mad and ruined all his things. She couldn't blame him for wanting her gone. She turned away and picked up the shirt she'd dropped and tried to pin it

on the line, but she couldn't see through the tears. "What the hell did you do to my jeans?" She didn't answer. She didn't know what she'd done to them. They turned white. She put the detergent in the washer, just like he'd showed her, and they came out white. All white. She burst into tears in earnest and dropped the shirt. Her nose ran, her eyes watered, and she hiccupped. "I'm sorry," she wailed. "I didn't mean to." When she heard him move toward her, she ran. "Michaela!" She ignored him and kept running. Stryker barked and took off after her. The dog tackled her half way through the alfalfa field, and she tumbled to the ground. Pinned to the ground by a huge dog, Michaela wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his coarse fur, and cried. She couldn't believe she could actually feel physical pain because of Ty's dislike of her. She didn't want to be mortal anymore. She wanted to go Home. "I'm sorry Gabriel. Please let me come Home." The only answer was Stryker giving her cheek a big wet lick. The tears came even harder. At least Stryker liked her. The dog nuzzled his cold wet nose into her neck and blew out a breath. Michaela hugged him harder. "What should I do?" she asked the dog. "What should I do?" ****

"Michaela." Ty didn't know what he was going to find when he walked into the house. He'd made her cry, damn it. But he needed her help now. He'd taken a tumble off the bronc he was trying to tame, and he had a scrape on his lower back from landing against the fence rail. He couldn't reach it to clean it. "Michaela?" he called again as he went down the hall to her room. She wasn't in there. "Michaela?" He checked the kitchen and his room, the bathroom. The house was utterly still. "Shit." Ty grabbed a towel off the rack in the bathroom and tried twisting around to view his back in the mirror. Blood oozed from the open wound, ran down into the band of his jeans. Good thing he wasn't wearing one of the white ones. Jeez. He chuckled. She'd bleached an entire load of his work clothes. Could she do nothing right? He pressed the towel against the scratch as best he could. She'd tried vacuuming Stryker's bed, sucked the blanket up into the beater bar, and proceeded to burn out the motor. She'd tried washing the toaster by dumping it in the sink full of water. Thank God she'd unplugged it first. Probably because the cord was too short to reach the sink. And now

all his work clothes were snowy white. He burst out laughing. Sinking down onto the toilet lid, he wiped his eyes. How long had it been since he laughed this hard? The woman was nuts. And pretty damn wonderful. She never complained. She'd done the best she could, and it was more than obvious she'd never in her life cleaned a thing. His smile faded. And he'd repaid her by hurting her. He didn't have to be such an ass. It wasn't her fault he wanted to touch her every time he looked at her. She sure as hell didn't try to entice him. Well, except for grabbing his ass. "Damn." Checking his wound again, the bleeding had slowed. He needed to find her. Who knew where she might have gone. "Stryker?" he called when he reached the porch. Great, she'd taken his dog, too. The mutt had been sleeping with her every night, following her around like a sweet little puppy all day long. He headed off toward the alfalfa field where she'd run earlier. What was it with that dog? He didn't like anyone. Since Ty found him six months ago, starving to death on the side of the road, Stryker had hated everybody except him. Now he'd forsaken Ty for Michaela. "Real loyal friend," he muttered. "Stryk!" he called. The dog's head popped up above the two-foot high plants. "Come here, boy." Stryker disappeared again. "Come on, Stryk, we gotta find Michaela. Help me out here." The dog came barreling across the field, tapped Ty on the thigh with his nose, and then took off in the direction he'd come. Ty's heart plummeted to his stomach. Stryker had done that once before, when one of the cows was in distress while giving birth. It had to mean only one thing. Michaela was hurt. ****

"If Michael found out I brought you here, he'd be furious." Michaela sighed with relief. Gabriel had saved her. He'd brought her Home. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much." Gabriel shook his head. "I just brought you here while you were sleeping because you were so upset. You have to go back." "No. Please." Michaela glanced around. She'd never been here before, but she thought it might be the Holding Chamber. The place souls went right after the mortal body died, before they were processed into Heaven. The diffused white light seemed strange. She'd become accustomed to the bright colors and sharp edges of earth. "Please don't send me back there. I can't help Ty Brock. There's nothing wrong with him. And he hates me."

Gabriel sat down in one of the waiting room chairs and patted the seat next to him. "He does not hate you, Michaela. He's confused." "Confused?" She'd never heard that word before. There were so many words she'd never heard before. She'd tried to learn them all, but there were just so many. It all felt hopeless. "Another mortal emotion. He doesn't know what he wants." Gabriel took her hand in his. His skin was cool, not like Ty's touch. Gabriel sighed. "You have to help him. It is your duty to help him." "But how?" she practically wailed. "How do I change his emotions?" "Quiet and listen, child. We don't have much time." Gabe leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. "Raphael told me of this mortal's problems. He believes his life is not worth living." "Suicide?" Michaela asked, her eyes widening. She couldn't let Ty Brock kill himself. "No. There are many ways to give up on life without the taking of his own. He has placed himself on that ranch, cut himself off from his friends." "But why?" "He believes he's hurt too many people, that they don't want him." "What did he do?" "These are things you should hear from him. It is the mortal way to speak their own problems." "He doesn't tell me anything, Gabriel. He just asks a lot of questions. And I'm not supposed to tell him where I'm from. He found the book." She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. "And he does not like me." "Yes, he does. You cause him confusion because he does like you, but he's shut his heart to caring for others. He is hurting and confused. You must help him." "Then tell me why he's done this. How can I help him if I don't understand him?" "He committed sins…er…crimes. He stole. He cheated. He lied." "Then why doesn't he ask for forgiveness and be done with it?" Gabriel let out a heavy sigh. "Not all mortals feel the same way we do. Forgiveness comes to them in many forms. He needs to forgive himself. The other mortals already have, but he doesn't believe it." "So, again, what is it I need to do?" "Teach him to trust." "How?" Michaela stood up and paced in front of Gabriel. "How do you teach a mortal to trust? Especially when I can't tell him any truths?"

"Ah, but I've been watching you. I'm very proud of you. You have never lied to him." Michaela threw up her hands. "Just answer my question. How do I teach him these things?" "That, dear child, is for you to figure out." "But—" "Time for you to return. He's searching for you." Before Michaela could stop him, Gabriel sent her soul back to her mortal body. A sharp pain shot through her middle as she took her first deep breath. ****

"Michaela!" Ty knelt next to her still form. Her face was sun burnt, and sweat dotted her brow. "Michaela. Wake up darlin'." His heart beat so hard it was a physical pain in his chest. "Come on, sweetheart." He touched her cheek, and yet there was no response. Stryker buried his nose against her neck and whined pitifully. Ty felt like doing the same. He visually checked her for injury, running his hand over her limbs, but found nothing out of place. "Come on, baby." She gasped and groaned. Relief washed through him, and he lifted her onto his lap and hugged her close. "Thank God." "Ty?" she said softly as she placed her hand on his bare shoulder and pushed herself away. "Ty, what's wrong?" Her green eyes were clouded with concern, and swollen and red from crying. It nearly tore him apart. "I thought…" He pulled her back to his chest and held her tight. He couldn't say what he thought. He couldn't fathom the idea of her being hurt or sick. "I fell asleep." She wrapped her arms around his neck and settled her cheek against his chest. Her skin nearly scorched his. "We've got to get you inside. Your face is burned." He lifted her with him as he stood and headed across the field toward the house. "You shouldn't sleep outside. Your skin is too fair. It's not healthy." She didn't answer, but she snuggled even closer, tucking her head under his chin. "Why'd you run off like that?" he asked, his temper returning now that he knew she was safe. "That was a stupid thing to do. The temperature is hanging around one hundred. In this heat you can get burned or dehydrated too quickly." Still she said nothing.

"Answer me, damn it." He pushed the door open and took her straight to the bathroom. He set her down on the toilet lid and turned away to draw her a cool bath. "Oh no, oh no, oh no." He flipped on the water before turning back to her. "What?" Tears sparkled in her eyes as she stood up. "Your back," she whispered. "You're hurt." She reached for him. He took a step back out of her reach. "It's just a scratch." "There's blood." "I fell off a horse. I'm fine." She took another step toward him. He backed himself into the wall. He did not want her touching him right now. His insides were twisted into a knot. Anger, lust, fear. Her fingers touched his side. He sucked in his breath at the butterfly-soft contact. "Don't." "You carried me in here, and you're hurt," she said. "Turn around and let me see. Let me help you." He would swear he could drown in her eyes. So gentle. So sweet. So damn caring. "Trust me," she whispered. His gut clenched. "I don't trust me." He pushed past her out the door. As he walked down the hall, away from her, he said, "Take a cool bath. I have some cream to put on your face when you're done." He had to get her out of his house. Get her out, but make sure she was safe. Safer than with him. He wanted her body. He hadn't been with a woman in three years. Michaela was too tempting. He sank down in his chair on the porch, and Stryker sat down at his feet, propping his head on Ty's boot. "Sure. Now you act like my dog. When she's shut up in the bathroom." Ty shook his head. "She's awfully irresistible, isn't she?" Stryker whined. Ty's back burned. He did need Michaela to look at it, to make sure there weren't any splinters in it. And then he'd drive her into Unegi—the thought of stepping foot in town after three years made his stomach hurt—and drop her off with her sister. Trent would look out for her. Seeing Trent was very happily married, that thought wasn't too repugnant. Stryker whined again.

"You're no help," Ty informed the dog. "She's going. Today." ****

Michaela bit her lip. He was going to send her away. Today. She had to think of some way to stop him. If she failed… Well, she had no idea what happened if she failed. Gabriel already told her and Electra they were stuck on earth for the term of their mortal body's life. So why was it so important to help this man? What was the punishment if she didn't? This mortal body seemed like the biggest punishment that could be placed on her. She peered at him through the small crack he'd left the door open. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. And a huge red scratch across his lower back. How could she not help him? He was the only mortal she knew. He'd been so patient with her while she tried to learn how to clean his house. He cooked her vegetables and didn't make her eat cow. He made her smile sometimes, too. And when he smiled at her and his eyes crinkled, when he rolled his amazingly beautiful eyes and smirked at something she'd done or said… "I don't have anyplace to go," she blurted out. "Please. Give me one more chance." She pushed through the door and knelt on the floor next to his chair. Gripping his forearm, she begged, "I promise I won't break anything else. I promise I'll…I won't…please. Please, Ty. Don't make me go. I'll do anything for you, if you'll just let me stay here." "Why can't you stay with your sister? Trent said she's got the apartment above his office." He pulled his arm from her grasp and stood up, moving to the other side of the porch. "You're not made for ranch work. Not even the housekeeping. There's got to be something out there better for you." She shook her head. "Ty Brock, if you send me away…" "What?" She swallowed. She had nothing to say. Nothing she could tell him, anyway. Then it came to her. Something she saw on the television. Ty had called it a soap opera, though she still couldn't figure out what that meant. "If you send me away, I'll never forgive you." Ty crossed his arms over his wide, bare chest. My, oh, my. She loved the way his muscles bunched under his skin. And when he'd lifted her from the field and she laid her head against him and breathed in his incredible scent, she'd never wanted to leave his arms. Being held by him made her feel tingly, soft, excited and relaxed all at the same time. "You'll never forgive me, huh?" She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. Cinnamon. That's what the color of his eyes were. Like the color of a spice he had in the cabinet called cinnamon. Shaking her head, she came to her feet. She straightened the robe around her, then crossed her own arms over her chest. "That's right. I never will." His lips twitched. His shoulders began to shake. Michaela wondered if he

was having some kind of fit. And then he threw his head back and laughed. He practically howled with laughter. Michaela glanced down at Stryker who stared at Ty with a cocked head and pricked ears. "Ty?" "You are something else, Michaela." Ty wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. "Damn, woman, what am I going to do with you?" She could think of one thing she'd really like, but she supposed asking for another hug wasn't a smart idea, since he'd gotten so upset the last time. "Can I stay?" He took a deep breath. Still smiling, he shook his head. "I just don't think it's a good idea." "I know you don't like me much, and I understand. I do. But please, this is very important to me." In two big steps, Ty was standing in front of her. He gripped her upper arms in his big hands. His gaze took in her face, dipped to her neck, and then lower. She'd noticed he liked looking at her mammary glands a lot. She still didn't understand that. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to ask him about it, though. "Why do you think I don't like you, Michaela?" She frowned up at him. "You don't want me here. You told me earlier, 'I don't want you.' I know you don't like me, and I understand. If I were you, I wouldn't like me much, either. I can't do anything right. I ruin—" His mouth touched hers. In that instant, she couldn't think at all. ****

Stop! But he couldn't. She tasted even better than she smelled. She was so sweet. When she gasped in surprise, he dipped his tongue between her lips. He brought his hands to her cheeks and gently tilted her head for deeper access. He groaned. Took a step closer to her until her breasts touched his chest, her thighs rubbed against his. Her belly pressed against his painful arousal. Her fingernails bit into his arms, but she gripped him, didn't push him away. She was as needy for this as he was. Maybe. Maybe he should take her and be done with it. Get her out of his system. Once the ache was appeased, he could think clearly. He backed her up against the rough wood wall and pressed against her softness. Oh, yes. He needed her. Now. He pushed the top of the robe open, dropped his mouth to her jaw, her neck, suckled the candy-sweet skin at the base of her throat. She whimpered and spread her fingers through his hair, pulling his head against

her. The robe's belt gave way with a gentle tug, and he spread the lapels. Glory be, she was gorgeous. Carefully, with reverence, he brought his hands up her sides and gently brushed his thumbs against the underside of her breasts. Her dark rosy nipples puckered tight, begging for his lips. She whimpered, her hands fisted in his hair. He cupped her breasts in his hands, the milky whiteness of her flesh against his tanned skin made him near blind with lust. When he flicked his thumbs over her nipples she cried out and tugged him even closer. Oh, yeah, he thought again. She wanted this as much as he did. He sucked her right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue. "Ty!" she cried, and her knees began to buckle. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the house, capturing her lips in another mind-numbing kiss as he made his way down the hall to his bedroom. "I need you, Michaela," he whispered as he set her on the bed and came down on top of her. "I need you." "That's why I'm here." Her breathing was labored, her skin flushed pink. "I'm here to help." "Yes. Help me." He delved his tongue between her lips and pressed himself against the heated juncture of her thighs. "Help me." "Ty," she said on a breath. "Ty, what are these feelings? Tell me what to call them." "Lust, honey. Pure animal lust." He reached for the button of his jeans. "What is this thing with the mouths?" She kissed his shoulder, his neck. "It feels so good." She sucked his skin. "I've never felt such a thing before." His zipper halfway down, he stopped cold. "What?" Her hot little hands roamed over his shoulders. "This." She stuck her tongue in his mouth, slowly drew it out. "What is it?" "A kiss." His hands shook. "A kiss." She smiled up at him. "It is wonderful." "Oh, God. No." He rolled off the bed to his feet. "Don't…don't tell me this." She sat up, frowned. The robe fell away from her shoulders leaving her beautifully bare in the middle of his bed. "Don't tell you what?" "You've never been kissed before, have you?" She shook her head. "Is that bad?"

Ty fumbled with his button, refastening it. "You're a virgin!" How could he not have realized that? She kissed like a virgin for crying out loud. How stupid could he be? Michaela's shrugged. "I don't know." Ty forked his fingers through his hair, gripped two handfuls, and pulled as hard as he could. Anything to take his thoughts away from what he'd almost done. He turned his back on her and grabbed the doorknob. "Get dressed, Michaela. I'm not about to take your virginity. I might be an ex-con bastard, but I'm no spoiler of innocent women."

Chapter Five

"Kiss," Michaela muttered as she flipped through her book. She knew now what a virgin was, and yes, she was one. She was an unmarried woman. Why would Ty ask that? Wasn't it obvious she was unmarried? She was here with him, wasn't she? If she were married, she'd be somewhere else with her husband. "Here it is. Kiss. To touch with lips as a sign of affection." She rolled over onto her stomach. The bed was so comfortable, sometimes she didn't want to leave it. Last night her mind had been so jumbled over what had happened between her and Ty she hadn't thought to look everything up. He'd been silent during dinner, then stayed out in the barn until very late. She'd had strange dreams last night, dreams that made her wake up with visions of Ty's naked, broad chest dancing in her head. Dreams that made her tingle all over just like his kisses did. She looked up "affection." A moderate feeling or emotion. Tender attraction. Fondness. She sighed. This was getting her nowhere. This book was so…stupid. She needed more explanation than this. Flipping to emotion, she laughed aloud. Disturbance or Excitement. She definitely could agree to those. When Ty touched her and kissed her, she became excited and disturbed. Emotion is the psychic and physical reaction experienced as strong feeling. Physiologically involving changes that prepare the body for immediate vigorous action. Vigorous action. The way his hands had run over her bare skin, the way he'd kissed and nipped at her skin, that could be vigorous action, couldn't it? She truly wished he hadn't stopped. She knew what feeling was, but she flipped the pages anyway. Perhaps there was more explanation there. A sensation experienced through the senses: Touch. An emotional state or reaction. That just brought her back to emotion! Groaning, Michaela tried one more thing. She'd never heard the word Fondness before. Tender affection. Foolishness. Folly.

Michaela threw the book on the floor and growled. Foolishness? Whatever this kissing thing was, it wasn't foolishness. It was wonderful! She truly needed to speak to someone about this. But not Ty. He hadn't spoken to her since he'd walked out of his room, leaving her on his huge bed, tingling and aching and confused. Electra. She'd go talk to Electra. Maybe she'd learned something since she'd been around a lot more mortals since they arrived. Hopping off the bed, Michaela pulled on her boots and headed out to the barn. This morning she'd managed to wash the dishes and the kitchen floor without breaking or ruining one thing. She was pretty proud of herself, but Ty hadn't been around since before sunup, so he didn't know this. He was in the paddock with the bronc that had thrown him yesterday. Ty sat on the horse's back, arm muscles bunched as he tried to stay on the huge black beast. Her heart sped up. Sweat prickled her brow. She tingled in odd places in her belly and between her thighs. Just the sight of his bare chest made her feel so strange. Suddenly the horse stopped the jerking motions and raised its head. Its ears went forward and it blew out a loud breath. Ty spoke softly to the horse and patted its neck. Then the horse turned and came straight toward her. Michaela's eyes widened as it came to the fence and stuck a huge black nose through the rails. "Oh my goodness, aren't you pretty?" Michaela reached out. "No! Don't! He bites." Ty tried pulling its head up with the leather straps that came from the sides of the horses face, but the head didn't move. Michaela smiled up at Ty. "He won't bite me." She touched her fingertips to the soft nose. "We have a special bond with animals." "Who's we?" Michaela leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against the horses nose. So soft. It made her smile. "My…people," she answered carefully. Angels were created in such a way that they couldn't frighten animals. Scared beasties were difficult to be around if angels were trying to help the mortals. "And just who are your people?" His voice was harsh. He was angry. She sighed. "You know, people like me." He snorted, sounding a lot like the horse when it blew out its breath. She almost giggled, except she knew he was angry, and laughing when he was angry would not help the situation. "Icelanders?" Shutting her eyes, she shook her head. She would not start lying about this. She'd gotten away without a lie until now because she'd never had to actually confirm or deny anything about Iceland.

"Maybe you could be some help," he said softly. "I've been fighting with Buster here for three weeks. You come over and he's as tame as a kitten." "He doesn't like to be ridden." When Ty didn't say anything, she looked up at him. He stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. She swallowed hard. She'd said too much. Way too much. How could a mortal know if an animal was happy or sad? They didn't have the same connection. Oh dear, oh dear. Ty cleared his throat, then threw his leg over Buster's back and slid to the ground. "So," he said carefully as he crossed his arms over the top rail of the fence, "what would make him happy?" Michaela looked up into his eyes. He was serious. Oh dear, oh dear. What do I do now? "Why doesn't he want to be ridden? I've never hurt him." "Someone else did. He's scared." He ran her fingers up the horses nose to scratch between his ears. He liked that. Ty nodded. "He's got some pretty bad scars on his flanks, probably from being whipped. But he's fine around me, until I try to mount him." She nodded. "He's afraid you will hurt him." "How do I convince him I won't?" Buster would never be comfortable with a rider. His fears were ingrained too deeply. "He wants to be left alone." Ty didn't say anything for a long time. She finally looked at him, worried what she might see in his eyes. He already didn't like her, now he'd think she was crazy, too. Sure enough, he frowned down at her. She couldn't do anything right. "I need to go into Unegi and see Electra." Ty nodded once and dug into his pocket. He withdrew a ring with two metal things dangling from it and held it out to her. "Take the truck. The gas is full." She took the metal things. She knew the truck was an automobile. A big one. But she didn't know what the metal things were for. She shrugged. She'd figure it all out. "Thank you," she said, and headed across the yard to the shiny black truck parked in front of the house. ****

A half hour later, Ty had let Buster loose in the pasture to graze, and headed back to the house. The truck was parked in front of the house. Michaela had sure made a quick trip of it. He shook his head. What had that been all about? Buster was afraid of being ridden? Could a woman really know what a horse was feeling? He had to admit, he never would

have believed that the temperamental bronc would walk right up to someone and let them pet him. And then there was Stryker. He hated everyone, yet he'd taken to Michaela from the start. She said her people had a special connection with animals. Was she from some sort of spiritual cult that communicated with them? Ty was just pulling the door open when Michaela called to him. She was sitting in the driver's seat of the truck. Oh, for Christ's sake. He walked over to the driver's door and folded his arms over the open window. "You don't know how to drive, do you?" She shook her head. Her cheeks were flushed pink, the butcher cut hair fluffed around her head. Her eyes sparkled. Damn, she was gorgeous. "You have a driver's license, yet you don't know how to drive. Explain that to me. It's an automatic, so that's not an excuse." Michaela's gaze roamed over the steering wheel and dashboard. "I can't explain it. Until Trent Godfrey picked us up, I'd never been in an automobile before." He mulled that over in his mind. It didn't make sense. Trent said he'd picked them up on the side of the road just outside Unegi. So, they got from Iceland to here somehow. And the only way to get to Unegi was by car or bus. Unegi was centered right between Tucson and Phoenix, just off I-10. "Could you please take me to see Electra? It's very important." His gut clenched. That meant going into Unegi. He hadn't set foot in town since the day Trent hauled him off to jail for cattle rustling. "Please, Ty." She laid her soft hand on his arm. When he met her eyes, he could see just how important this was to her. He took a deep breath. "Can't you call her?" Michaela rolled her lips inward, her eyes pleading with him. "Okay. I'll take you. Give me a couple of minutes." A smile that rivaled the sunshine split her face. "Thank you, Ty." "Yeah." He headed into the house to grab a shirt and a hat. He was actually going to go into Unegi because a sweet little homeless woman begged him to. What was happening to him? He'd never let a woman talk him into something he absolutely didn't want to do. He definitely did not want to go into town right now. ****

"The letter on the door says the doctor is attending a party at the sheriff's house. Do you know where that is?" "Shit." Ty hadn't even realized it was Saturday. Today was Trent's

daughter's birthday party. The whole town would be there. "Shit?" Michaela asked as she slammed the truck door after she climbed in. "What does excrement have to do with a party?" A harsh laugh burst out of him. "I'd rather be mucking excrement from the barn," he muttered. "Look, Michaela, can't this wait until tomorrow?" She shook her head, and then grabbed her flyaway hair and bunched it in her fist. "I must speak with Electra." Curly black locks slipped from her fingers and fluttered along her cheeks. She growled and tried again. Chuckling, he reached behind and grabbed a baseball cap from the back seat. "Come here." Scooting closer to him, she frowned. "What?" He pulled her hands away from her head and bunched her silky hair in his fist. He pulled the puffy ponytail through the back of the cap, then pulled it down over her forehead. He tucked the loose hairs under the sides. "Better?" She reached up to feel the cap then sent him one of those heart wrenchingly sweet smiles. "Thank you. I know I look silly." "No, sweetheart, you don't look silly," he said seriously. "You look gorgeous. Maybe on Monday we'll drive down to Placer and go to the salon there." "Gorgeous?" He shook his head and smiled. "Beautiful." "Salon?" He chuckled. "A place where women get their hair cut and styled by someone who knows what they're doing." "You think I'm beautiful? Truly?" She looked so damn serious with that question, as if no one had ever told her that before. "Truly." "I think you're beautiful too," she whispered. Her gaze roamed over his chest. "Especially when you don't have a shirt on." Ty nearly groaned aloud. She'd be the death of him. Unable to stop himself, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss against her lips. Even sweeter than he remembered. "Do you like to kiss me?" she asked against his lips. "Michaela," he sighed, and sat back in his seat. "Yes, I like kissing you, but it leads to trouble, so I shouldn't." "Trouble?"

"Grrrr." He pulled his Stetson off his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, here it is. I want you. A lot. But I will not have sex with you. You're a virgin, and I have never in my life slept with a virgin. It goes against everything I believe in. A woman's first time needs to be special, not with someone like me." "Someone like you," she repeated softly. When Ty met her eyes, she looked stricken. "Sweetheart…" She shook her head. "You think you're a bad person." "I know I'm a bad person." "Oh." Her lips rolled in. "No. No, you're not. I know you're not." "You don't know shit." He slammed his hat back on his head and started the truck. "Hey! Ty!" Ty glanced out the window to see Bob Cummings, proprietor of Bob's Mercantile coming out onto the street. Shit, shit, shit. He didn't need this now. "I thought that was your truck." Bob locked the door of his shop and ambled toward Ty's truck. "Long time no see, son. How've you been? Trent said you were living in the original homestead on your spread and starting your own herd. How's it going?" Ty swallowed. "Fine, sir." Bob had been old when Ty was in short pants. The man looked ancient now. "You headin' to Trent's?" Bob rested his hand on the open window. "Can you believe little Jess is sixteen? Gawd, I remember when she was born. You ain't never seen a prouder papa than Trent." "Yes, sir." Ty's gut clenched so hard he thought he might be sick. His hands fisted on the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. Bob peered into the truck. "Who you got there? I didn't know you found yourself a little lady." He grinned; his white dentures gleamed in the sun, matching his crop of snow-white hair. "Ohh, you must be Electra's sister. You sure do look like her." Bob chuckled. "Now that's one interesting girl, Electra. Never met myself anyone like her before." Ty glanced at Michaela, and she smiled back at Bob. Ty cleared his throat. "Bob, this is Michaela Smith, Electra's sister. Michaela, this is Bob Cummings, owner of the mercantile." "Nice to meet you, little lady. So," Bob said, focusing back on Ty, "you heading over to Trent's?" "Yes," Michaela answered for him. "They're having a party." She grinned. Ty's teeth hurt from clenching them so hard. "Great. See you in a few." Bob ambled off down the street toward his car. A vintage 1960 ragtop Cadillac he'd purchased when it was brand new. Ty had always loved that car.

****

Michaela watched as Ty angrily jammed the gearshift and pressed down on the accelerator. He'd told her all the parts of the truck that made it run. She didn't care about the automobile right now. She was worried about the look in Ty's eyes, his clenched jaw, his thinned lips. Remembering what Gabriel had told her just yesterday, she knew that this was her test, as well as Ty's. He needed to see that the people of Unegi didn't hate him. That they didn't think he was a bad person. That they'd forgiven him for what he'd done. If she was able to get him to go to the party, it might work. He didn't look like he wanted to be at a party though, he looked like he wanted to go straight home and never leave the ranch again. He stopped in front of a red house, put the truck in park, but didn't shut off the engine. "Everyone will be in the back. I'll wait here. Please try to hurry." Oh no. He was going to hide here in the truck. Think quickly. "I…um…you have to come with me." He shook his head and stared out the open window. Michaela nibbled her bottom lip. What would make Ty go with her? She knew that acting angry wouldn't do it. He'd just get angry back. He didn't like her to cry. But how do you make yourself cry? She thought about eating cows. No tears. She thought about pain. It really hurt, and she'd cried when she slammed the kitchen cabinet on her finger. No tears. She thought about what it felt like when he told her he didn't want her. Her eyes prickled. He said she had to leave the ranch. A fat tear rolled down her cheek. She almost smiled at her accomplishment, but that wouldn't do. "Ty," she whispered, hoping he'd look at her. She took a deep breath, blinked in order to force more tears from her eyes, and then did the one thing she swore she'd never do. She told a lie. "I can't go in there by myself. I'm scared. I don't know any of these mort—uh—people." His head whipped around. "Ah, hell, don't cry on me." She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. It was working. "I need you to go with me." Ty slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't do that. I can't go in there. My stomach hurts just thinking about it." Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. He was hurting. She didn't want him to hurt. But if he'd go in, his hurting might stop, because then he'd know the truth. The people didn't hate him. She reached out and put her hand on his bare forearm. His skin was warm, his muscles bunched under her touch. "Please?" She could see the anguish in his beautiful eyes. He was so frightened to face these people. How could she make him see the truth? He was a wonderful, wonderful man. She ached in her chest at the thought of him hurting and afraid.

"I hurt these people. I broke their trust. I treated them like dirt. I don't belong here, Michaela, can't you see that? Can't you understand?" She wanted to tell him it didn't matter, that they'd forgiven him, but then, how could she explain that she knew these things? "I heard Trent Godfrey invite you to the party. He wanted you here. He said someone named Lina wanted you here. Who's Lina?" "Trent's wife." He turned his head again, looked out over the vast barren land of the desert across the street. "I even treated her badly. I've hurt everyone I've ever come across. Did you know that Trent and I were best friends growing up? His mother was like my own, better than my own. And I was so damn jealous that he'd found a beautiful wife, had a pretty little daughter of his own that I…" "You what?" "I did something awful, hurt him, hurt his little girl. For ten years I…" He swiped his hand over his face. "It doesn't matter now." "It does matter," Michaela argued. "It matters because you are the one still hurting. You have to forgive yourself." He snorted. That sound he made when he thought she was crazy. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Please come in with me." He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her away. His eyes blazed with fury. "Haven't you been listening to anything I said?" "Yes. I listened to all of it," she answered through a tight throat, the tears ready to come in earnest this time. She hated when he pushed her away. "And I need you to come with me. It will just be a few moments. I need to talk to Electra, and then we can leave. Don't make me go in there alone." She hoped that some lies were all right to tell if they were meant to help someone else. "Damn you," he growled. She clenched her teeth together to keep from sobbing and tears ran down her cheeks. She knew what those words meant. He really did hate her. Turning, she fumbled for the door handle. She gave up. She couldn't help him. How could she help someone who didn't even want her around? "Michaela," he said, his voice gruff. She got the latch open and jumped out of the truck. Slamming the door as hard as she could, she headed for the side of the house where she could hear voices and laughter. "Michaela, wait," Ty called. She heard the other door to the truck slam, then the crunch of his boots on the gravel as he came after her. "Michaela." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She turned on him, pressed her hands to his chest and pushed him back. "Yes you did. You meant it. You told me yesterday you didn't like me. Well,

I give up." "I never said I didn't like you." "Yes, you did. You keep saying it. You don't want me." Then she shook her head in confusion. In the truck, he'd said he did want her. "Stop crying. God, please, stop." Even though she tried pushing him away, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her against his hard chest. "I like you, Michaela. I like you too damn much." His big hand smoothed up and down her back. "I just don't want to hurt you, too." She wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at once. Didn't he know that every time he told her to go away he hurt her? Didn't he know that the only place that felt right was here, in his arms? It was the only time she didn't feel a little scared and confused of the big world that was all so new to her. No, he couldn't understand that. Because he didn't feel the same way. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Please forgive me." "I forgive you." Of course she did. She'd forgive him everything if he'd just never let her go. He squeezed her tight and rocked her back and forth a little bit. She thought it might be that he needed the comfort too. He was such a gentle man. He just didn't know he was. She wound her arms around his waist, rested her cheek against his shoulder, and sighed. "Everything will be all right." He stopped rocking her. "What?" She tilted her head and kissed his chin. She liked kissing him. Even the little kisses that didn't make her tingle so much. The book said it was a sign of affection. She definitely felt affection toward him. A lot of affection. "Everything will be all right." "What everything?" She shrugged. "Just…everything." "Does this have to do with your communing with animals?" She giggled. "Are you an animal, Ty Brock?" Through a chuckle, he said, "Yeah, a beast." She raised her hand to his shoulder and stroked his strong muscles. "Then perhaps I can tame you." "Many women have tried and failed." She heard the teasing in his tone and smiled. "But I'm not like most women." My goodness, if he ever knew the truth of that statement. "I know you're not, sweetheart. You're very special." The teasing gone from his voice, she pulled back a bit to see into his eyes.

"You're special too, Ty Brock." A shadow of pain flickered in his eyes before he dropped his eyelids over them. He leaned down and placed the softest, most tender kiss on her cheek. "Thank you." She opened her mouth to ask why he'd thanked her, but he released her. He straightened his hat, reached into his shirt pocket for his sunglasses, and put them on. They were so dark she couldn't see his eyes through them. Then he held out his hand to her. "Come on, let's get this over with quickly."

Chapter Six

Ty waited for his left arm to go numb. Wasn't that the next sign of a heart attack? His heart pounded so furiously in his chest, he didn't know how he survived. Gripping Michaela's hand tight, he wondered why she didn't complain, but he needed her right now. As much as it pained him to admit it, she gave him strength. Just before they reached the corner of the house, he stopped. He couldn't do this. He could hear Trent's voice, Lina's too. And a whole lot of other people's. "It's all right," Michaela whispered and squeezed his hand. "I'm right here with you." Why that made him feel better, he didn't know. But it did. Still, his feet refused to move. "Ty, my boy!" Ty swung around, nearly knocking Michaela over. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and met Willy Davis's dark brown eyes over her head. Willy Davis, Unegi's one and only mechanic. Married to Trent's mother. Ty swallowed back a vile curse. "I'm so glad you came by today," Willy said as he held out his hand for Ty. "Long time no see." Ty took the man's hard, callused hand in his. "Thank you, sir." Willy chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. "What's with the sir garbage? Come on, the ribs are just about done. Trent's been slaving over them all day, making sure they grill just right." He turned to Michaela and smiled. "And you must be Electra's sister. Well, I'll be. You two sure do look alike. Been hearing a lot about you, but we weren't sure you really existed." Michaela smiled at Willy before he ambled off around the corner. "See, he doesn't hate you," Michaela whispered. She took his hand in hers

again and tugged him toward the back yard. "He was just being nice," Ty growled and pulled her to a stop. "Michaela I— " "Ten minutes, Ty." She squeezed his hand again, stepped closer to him. "Just ten minutes so I can talk to Electra, and then we can go. I promise." She went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Another thing he shouldn't like so damn much. To think a couple of days ago she didn't even know what a kiss was, now she kept doing it. And it made him feel good. So good, he was tempted to press her against the side of the house and kiss her hard and deep, with all the pent-up lust he'd been desperately trying to keep under control since the moment he saw her laying on his bed, naked and perfect. He let out a tight breath. He wouldn't touch her again. Not like he had. God, to think he'd almost taken her, and she was a thirty-one year old virgin! He shook his head. No way. Any woman keeps herself from a man that long, no way was he going to be the one to take it away from her. He didn't deserve anything that precious. "What? Why are you shaking your head?" Michaela still held his hand, and she put her other hand against his chest. "Don't back out now," she said softly. "Be brave." "Bravery has nothing to do with this. I go back there, I'm liable to get lynched." "Lynched?" She'd obviously left her book at home. "Lynched. Mobbed. Drawn and quartered." She scowled at him, her forehead puckered up cute. "Killed." She gasped and grabbed his arm, started dragging him back toward the truck. He chuckled. "Michaela." He pulled her to a halt once again. "I'm not going to take you where they will kill you!" Her eye were wide, terror written all over her face. She pulled on him again. "Sweetheart." He laughed, he couldn't help it. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "I was exaggerating. They're not going to kill me." He breathed in her warm apple pie scent and his body came alive. "Ah, honey, you're just too precious." "Exaggerating. You are lying to me?" she all but shouted as she pushed at his shoulders. He didn't release her. "It's not really a lie. Oh, hell," he muttered at her utterly confused expression, the fear in her eyes. "They're not going to kill me, and I didn't lie. An exaggeration is just…" He laughed. Hell, it was a lie, wasn't it, in the most literal use of the word? "Okay." He pulled her head to his chest and gave her another hug. "I promise not to exaggerate again." "They won't hurt you?" His humor fled as fast as it'd come. They wouldn't hurt him physically, but

he didn't know what kind of emotional shape he'd be in after he left here. The only people he'd seen since returning to Unegi a year ago, after spending two years in jail, had been Trent and Lina. They dropped by every once in a while. Lina would just happen to make too many brownies, or cupcakes, or pie, and bring him the leftovers. Trent was less subtle. He'd come by just to check up on him, let him know why he was there. The rest of the town, though… Maybe it was time to face his demons. He'd been attending Gamblers Anonymous since getting out of jail, but he hadn't really done any of the things he was supposed to do, like face those he'd wronged. "Let's go." He snatched up Michaela's hand and charged on. He'd get this over and done with. He rounded the corner of the house into the huge backyard filled with at least two dozen people, not including the children and various animals that ran, squealed, and barked around and through the adults. ****

Worry for Ty compelled Michaela to not leave his side. The poor man. She could feel his hand shaking in hers. He was absolutely terrified. "Hey, Ty and Michaela made it!" A pretty blonde woman with gray eyes came toward them. "Hi Michaela," she said. "I'm Lina Godfrey, Trent's wife." The woman hugged her. Michaela didn't know what to do, so she stood there gripping Ty's hand. Lina released Michaela and hugged Ty next. Michaela couldn't see Ty's eyes behind the glasses, but he stood as stiff as one of his fence posts. His jaw was clenched hard, his cheekbones even seemed to be more pronounced. "So glad you could make it. We're just getting ready to eat." "We're not staying long," Ty said through clenched teeth, but Michaela could tell he was trying to sound normal. His hand was beginning to sweat. "Michaela just wanted to see Electra, and then we've got to go." Lina's bottom lip stuck out a bit. "Come on, Ty," she said softly. "Everything's okay. You wouldn't want to deprive Michaela of her first Unegi get-together, would you?" "Hello, Ty." Michaela turned at the woman's voice. Oh my goodness. The woman's mammary glands were humongous! Michaela wondered if they were difficult to hold up. The woman's hair, so blonde it was almost white, was piled up on her head, and Michaela wondered how she could possibly have put those clothes on. For that matter, they were so tight, she wondered how she was able to move in them. "Carrie," Ty said, with a small nod of his head. "Long time no see. Where you been hidin' yourself?" Ty released Michaela's hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"Carrie, this is Michaela. Michaela, Carrie." The Carrie woman stuck two fingers into her front pants pocket. "Nice ta meet'cha. You're the woman who's living with Ty now?" Her laugh was strange, deep, like she was forcing it. Michaela didn't really care for this woman. Didn't like the way she kept looking at Ty. Like he was food and she was starving. "Michaela is working for me and living on the ranch, yes." Carrie raised her eyebrow. Reached out and touched the top button of Ty's shirt. "Shoulda offered me the job." A new emotion burned through Michaela. She couldn't identify it, didn't like it, but she had the urge to slap the silly-haired woman. How dare she touch her Ty. "Excuse us, Carrie," Ty said as he started walking away, Michaela still tucked under his arm. Michaela's hands shook and she tucked them in her jeans pockets. "Who was that woman? Why did she look at you that way? She's not very nice." Ty looked down at her, one dark brown eyebrow raised above the rim of his glasses. "Are you jealous?" "Jealous?" He laughed and pulled her even closer against his side. "I'm not sure that I've ever had a woman jealous over me before." "What is this jealous thing?" she asked. Still chuckling, he brushed a kiss over her cheekbone. "Look it up in your book when we get home." "Hmph." "So," he glanced around at the people, "where's your sister?" "My sister?" His head tilted toward her again. "Electra?" "Oh, yes, well…" They were supposed to be sisters, Michaela reminded herself. "I don't see her," she said as she looked around. Trent Godfrey approached them, a big smile on his face. "Glad you came, Ty." He handed Ty a brown bottle. "Would you care for something to drink?" he asked Michaela. Michaela shook her head. She needed to see Electra and get Ty out of there. Maybe he was afraid of the Carrie woman. She seemed rather scary. "Do you know where Electra is?" Trent glanced around. "Haven't seen her or Stephen for a while, but the way those two can't keep their hands off each other, that's not surprising." He

chuckled. "Looks like you two might have the same problem." He winked. Ty dropped his arm from around her, even took a small step away. Michaela looked at him, but he was staring off to the side. Trent cleared his throat. "Well, come on, the ribs are done." "Michaela's a vegetarian." "Hey there, Ty." An older man with gray hair came up and clapped Ty on the shoulder, shook his hand. "Listen, I got this gelding I just can't do nothin' with. I was wonderin', since I saw your ad up on the wall at the Placer Feed and Seed that you're doin' some breakin' if you'd come out to my place and take a look at him, let me know if he's anything more than dog food." "Well, I…" "I been meanin' to call you, but things at the ranch been real busy. Glad I caught you here. So anyway, he's a three year old…" Trent touched Michaela's arm, pulling her away from the conversation between Ty and the man. "How have things been out there?" Michaela shrugged. "Sometimes good, sometimes not." "You talked him into coming here, didn't you?" Trent led her toward a table laden with big bowls of colorful food. Everything smelled wonderful. Even the ribs, which she assumed was a form of meat from Ty's comment. "Yes, I asked him to bring me. I need to talk to Electra. Ty was…afraid." Trent handed her a plate. "He hasn't set foot in Unegi for over three years." She nodded. "He said he hurt you." Trent shook his head. "Load up, there's lots of food." He ran his hand through his hair. "I hurt myself. He didn't do it. I thought we'd gotten past all that garbage." She took a little bit of everything on the table. She didn't know what most of it was, but it all looked so good. "He said he did lots of bad things and was afraid that the people of Unegi wouldn't forgive him for it. He said he thought he'd be lynched." Trent chuckled. "Look." He nodded his head toward a group of men. Right in the middle of them was Ty, talking and laughing. "I think he's going to be all right." "Thank goodness," Michaela said, a sigh of relief washing through her. "So, what have you been doing out there? I was sure you'd be coming into town sooner than this." Now that she had a plate mounded with food, she looked for a place to sit. Trent pointed to a bench where a few other women were seated. "Go on, join the ladies, I'll talk to you later." Trent winked again, then ambled off toward the huge barbeque grill.

Lina moved over and patted a seat next to her. Michaela sat down and sent Lina a smile. "This is my mother-in-law, Abby," Lina said, pointing to an older woman. Then she went around the table, introducing her to the wives of the men who still stood to one side of the grassy yard talking with Ty. "I'm not sure where Jess ran off to. I think she went to check on Crystal." "Jess is your daughter?" Michaela asked. She took a bite of something from her plate. "Mmm. This is good." "That's Abby's potato salad. Both Jess and Crystal are our daughters. Jess is sixteen today, Crystal is just a little over two." Michaela nodded, tried something else on her plate, a flat crispy thing. There was a lot of salt on it, she recognized salt, but oh my, these were good. Talking went on around her. The women were obviously good friends, but Michaela concentrated on her food. Something with strange colored and shaped noodles, another thing that had cucumbers, but in a white, spicy sauce. "Hi, Michaela." She looked up from her plate to see Electra and the doctor standing behind her. She smiled, relieved. "I need to talk to you," she said as she stood up. The other women at the table didn't seem to notice. "Doctor, nice to see you again." "You're looking well, Michaela. How have you been feeling?" Michaela smiled. He was a nice man. A handsome man. A little taller than Ty, but not as muscled. His hair was light colored, like Lina's. "What did you do to your hair? It's purple!" She grabbed Electra's arm and pulled her off to the side, away from all the people. "What happened to you? Are you ill? Did something bad happen? How did it turn purple?" Electra laughed. "You like it? I thought it was pretty cool." "Cool? What does temperature have to do with your hair?" "Cool is an expression." Electra shook her head. "Haven't you learned anything since we got here? I love it." Her gaze wandered back to Stephen Webb. "Isn't he wonderful?" "I've learned that I can't clean a house without breaking something, and that bleach isn't used while washing clothes that aren't supposed to be white, and you can't clean a dog bed with a vacuum without wrecking it." "Cleaning? That's what you do at Ty's house? I thought for sure you'd be doing something with the animals, the way you always went on about them. All I do is sit at a desk and answer the phone. And hand out papers for people to fill out." "Phone?" "Jeez, girl, where have you been living? On the moon?" Michaela bit her lip. Electra was talking like these mortals. She couldn't worry about that right now though. Maybe Electra had learned enough to

answer her questions. "I have a problem." "Yeah, I can see that. If you don't like living on a ranch, why don't you move into town with me? I miss you. I have my very own apartment, with a TV and everything. And have you seen how yummy Stephen is?" She grinned. "Really yummy." "Yummy." Michaela shook her head. "I need to know about kissing. Um…stuff that men and women do." Michaela tried to remember the word he'd used earlier in the truck. "Sex." "Isn't it wonderful? Stephen is the best." Electra sent Stephen Webb a big smile. "The kissing and making love… I can't imagine anything better. He makes me feel so much. I had no idea that mortals experienced so many wonderful sensations and…"—she laid her hand over her chest—"I can't imagine not being with Stephen." Michaela stared at Electra as Electra gazed off toward Stephen. She positively…glowed. Her cheeks were pink, her smile huge and happy. Other than the strange clothes that were exceptionally tight, kind of like that Carrie woman's, she looked wonderful. Michaela's stomach twisted. Electra had found her place. Michaela could tell from her soft expression that Electra would spend the rest of her mortal life here, in Unegi, with Stephen Webb. And, Michaela thought as she turned to see Stephen, the gentle smile on his face as he gazed back at Electra, he felt the same way. Why that made Michaela sad, she didn't understand. She should be happy for Electra. And she supposed she was, but she kind of hurt inside too. "You kiss him?" Michaela asked. "Oh yeah, I do." Electra slowly brought focused back on Michaela. "And it's amazing. Do you kiss Ty?" Michaela nodded. "But what about…" Michaela bit her lip. "Sex," she whispered. "You haven't made love with him?" "Made love. I don't understand. How do you make love?" "Sex." Michaela shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean, I know I haven't. He said he didn't want a virgin, but I just don't understand because why would he want a married woman… It's all so confusing." "A virgin isn't an unmarried woman, it's a woman who's never made love before. Stephen was very surprised that I was one, too. Mortal men seem to have a problem with that, but I don't understand it. I would think that a man would want a woman that hadn't made love before. Besides, I can't imagine doing it with another man. I only want to be with Stephen." "Could you tell me about it? How did you get him to do it? Ty kisses me but he says he won't have sex with me no matter how much he wants me. I don't understand this."

Electra threw her head back and laughed, her purple hair glittered in the sunshine. Glittered. That couldn't be normal. Could a mortal disease turn your hair purple? "I've got a better idea. Come on." Electra held out her hand and led her back around the house to the front. She stopped walking next to a funny two-wheeled automobile. She reached into a bag on the back and pulled out two books. "Here. Read these. They'll explain everything." Michaela read the covers. "Lost Lady. Eternal Conquest. What are these about?" "This, dear girl, is what mortal women read to learn how to turn their men on." She grinned. "And man oh man, do they ever work. Mortal men are very confusing. I wouldn't have guessed it, but they are. I always thought mortals were rather simple, you know, because they weren't like us, but I was so wrong." "Turn them on? I don't understand. I didn't know he was off." Electra rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Just read the books. You'll understand. These explain how the men think, and why they act all weird sometimes. And it also talks a lot about making love and kissing and touching." She hugged her arms around herself. "The touching is sooo good. And afterwards, we lay together, he holds me in his arms, and talk for a long time. He tells me about everything." "I do like it when Ty holds me in his arms. It feels very good, like I never want to leave." "Yeah." Ready to change the subject, Michaela looked at the weird automobile. "What is this?" "It's called a motorcycle. Pretty cool, huh?" "Cool again. I don't know." Electra straddled the thing and pressed a button, it roared like a regular automobile. "It's so fun," Electra said. "I'll take you for a ride." Michaela wasn't sure about that. She didn't mind the truck, because it was all enclosed. She didn't think she'd want to ride on top of an automobile. "Maybe some other time. I have to get back to Ty." "I haven't seen you in days. Come on, tell me what it's like living out there on a ranch. Do you get to eat all the hamburgers you want? I just love mortal food, don't you?" "Hamburger." Michaela's stomach dipped. "I don't eat the cows. How can you eat the cows? They're so…pretty." Electra scowled. "I don't care what they look like, they taste wonderful." Michaela shook her head. "I have to go." She turned away. "I have to make sure Ty is all right." Electra followed her toward the back of the house. "Are you falling in love?" Electra asked.

"Love," Michaela thought aloud. She wasn't sure what love was supposed to feel like, so she couldn't say for sure if that's what she felt for him. Maybe these books would tell her. She glanced down at the shiny covers. She smiled. Love. What a pleasant idea. Falling in love, making love. It was so confusing, though. Would she ever understand it all? "Would it be horrible if I did fall in love? I feel something strong for him. He says he doesn't dislike me. Besides, what am I supposed to do when I'm done with him? Gabriel never told me that. Where am I supposed to go when my job is finished?" Electra shrugged, but her brow puckered. "You could come live with me, like I said. And I wouldn't make you clean anything, either." They rounded the corner into the backyard. Ty sat on a bench eating a rib. At least she was getting used to the sight of him consuming meat. Her stomach didn't get all bad feeling anymore. Trent sat down next to Ty. He elbowed Ty and Ty smiled. It was good to see him smile. He'd even taken off the sunglasses. He looked up and caught sight of her, sent her a big grin that made his eyes crinkle in that way that made her feel all tingly inside. "You are in love with him," Electra declared. "Maybe," Michaela agreed.

Chapter Seven

Ty watched Michaela interact with the other women. She didn't seem very nervous, and he seriously wondered if she'd put on some kind of act to get him to the party. He should be furious with her for the deception, but he wasn't. Coming here had been a good thing. A great thing. His heart was so light right now he wondered why he wasn't floating. He was accepted. He never thought that would happen. Even Abby, Trent's mother, had come up to him and given him a hug. Abby had always cared for him as a child, even though he'd been a bit of a troublemaker, talking Trent and Stephen, his two best friends, into joining him in mischief. As an adult, she thought he'd betrayed Trent. Everyone thought he'd betrayed Trent because he let them believe it. And then he'd been arrested and put in jail for cattle rustling, a mortal sin in a place like Unegi where ranching was a way of life for over half the population. Michaela turned from her conversation with Lina and sent him a bright smile. He sent her a wink. Her face flushed a bit before she turned away. What was he to do with her? A thirty-one year old virgin. A woman who knew nothing about anything, it seemed.

He couldn't imagine what she'd spent her life eating. Food in general was new to her. When she'd had a slice of Jess's chocolate birthday cake—he chuckled—he had no idea that food could be orgasmic to a person, but he'd swear Michaela had just about climaxed at her first bite. "So,"—Trent handed him a beer and sat down next to him—"how's she working out?" Ty set the beer aside without taking a sip. The last thing he wanted was to get muddle-brained before he had to take Michaela home. "Okay, I guess." A slow grin spread over his lips. "I'll have to buy a new vacuum, new work clothes, and soon, a new set of dishes. She's a klutz of the first degree." Trent chuckled. "Stephen said something similar about Electra." "Did you find anything about them when you ran the police check?" Ty shifted on the lawn chair, pulling his gaze away from Michaela's shapely backside to focus on Trent. "Not a thing. In fact, it's strange. I can't find anything about them. Did you know their addresses are your place and Stephen's clinic? I don't know where they were born or where they lived before they came here. I've questioned Electra about it, but she's evasive. All I can get out of her is that she's from some island off the coast of Iceland, but I… Well, hell." Trent ran his hand through his hair. "She's lying, but I don't feel she's dangerous. Either of them." He shook his head, his gaze moving off toward Electra who stood in the circle of Stephen's arms, and then toward Michaela who sat at the picnic table with Lina and Jess. "As long as you don't talk about their pasts, they're very open people." Ty chewed on the comments, agreeing with Trent's assessment. Michaela wasn't dangerous, except perhaps to his sanity. "You know that book she looks everything up in?" Trent nodded. "It's not in English. It's not in any normal language. It's made up of signs and symbols, and looks something like the cave drawings up at Devil's Peak." Trent looked as perplexed as he'd been. "She looks at everything through a child's eyes. Like she doesn't know anything. And you're right, whenever I question her about where she's from, she's very evasive." "Any ideas?" Trent asked. Ty shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't know." Stephen laughed aloud at something Electra said. Trent leaned back and took a swig of his beer. "I've never seen Stephen quite so animated. Ever since he moved back to Unegi after he got his degrees, he's stayed to himself. I doubt he's dated anyone. Electra seems to make him very happy." Ty could only nod. He had to admit, he'd never really noticed. He'd been so caught up in his life for so many years, he'd turned his back on everyone and everything that'd once mattered to him. He'd been the local star, the cowboy with the bad boy reputation. The Don Juan of Unegi.

"Trent," he started hesitantly, his stomach twisting in a nauseous knot, "I uh, just wanted you to know…"—he cleared his throat—"all that crap I did before…" Trent leaned over and slapped his arm in a way they had communicated as teens. "It's over and done with. All of it. We're older now," he chuckled, "hopefully a lot wiser." Ty eased out a slow breath, the tension releasing. "Yeah. Hopefully." "Besides, it looks like everything's worked out for the best." Trent nodded toward the women. Ty's stomach clenched painfully once again, and his heart thudded too hard a couple times. Michaela sat on the picnic table bench holding Crystal, Trent's baby girl. The child curled her hands into Michaela's wild hair—she'd taken off the hat he'd given her—and giggled. Michaela was laughing with the child, looking so…motherly. ****

Something went soft and squishy inside Michaela as the little girl twisted her chubby fingers in Michaela's hair and giggled. Her heart felt full, her eyes teared up, and she had the urge to just hug the child until she squished. These feelings were very confusing. "I'll be damned," Lina said. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at her daughter. "Crystal doesn't take to anyone. You must be very special, Michaela." Michaela laughed. What else could she do? The same gift she had with animals extended to children, as well. But she didn't get these gentle feelings when she tussled with Stryker or pet the horses. This tenderness was something new, something wonderful. "Fuffy," Crystal proclaimed as she patted Michaela's hair. Jess laughed. "No, not Fluffy. Michaela," she said to Crystal. "Fluffy's one of the cats," she added to Michaela. Michaela laughed and cuddled the child closer. She wondered, now that she was mortal, if she could have a child of her own. She'd have to look into that. She wasn't exactly sure how you got one, other than you needed to be married. "Come on, Jess. Let's get this stuff cleaned up, and then you can go for your sleepover at Beth's." Lina started gathering up bowls of leftover food. "You mind watching Crystal for a few minutes?" "Not at all," Michaela answered, her throat a little tight. She did not understand these new emotions. All she knew was she wished she never had to give Crystal back. Trent and Ty came to the table and began carting away bowls and platters along with Jess and Lina. "Hey, Stephen," Trent called to Stephen who sat in a lawn chair cuddling Electra against his chest. "Why don't you build a

fire in the pit?" "Sure thing." Stephen extracted himself from Electra, went to a pile of wood stacked near the side of the house, and grabbed a few small logs. He put them in a small area surrounded by big rocks. A campfire, Michaela thought, just like on television. How special. She grinned and hugged Crystal. ****

Trent took a sleepy little Crystal from Michaela's arms and headed inside to put the child to bed. Stephen and Electra were snuggled on a lawn lounger near the fire. Michaela stood up and wandered toward the fire, carefully seating herself on another of the loungers Stephen had put near the fire. There were only three of the chairs. Ty let out a slow breath. He wanted her in his arms. To wrap his arms around her and hold her close as they stared into the dancing fire. He feared his body's reaction to her though. She enflamed him, made him burn like no woman ever had. The fear that she was nothing but another forbidden addiction arrowed through him. Just for tonight. Here, around people he knew and loved. There was safety in numbers. He could hold her and there wouldn't be any consequences. Slowly rounding the fire pit, he stopped next to her chair. Michaela looked up at him, the firelight dancing in her green eyes. "Mind if I sit with you?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. He felt like a young buck, randy and ready, yet shy and terrified all at the same time. Michaela scooted to the side of the lounger, as if his big frame would only take up half the chair. He chuckled and leaned down, scooping her negligent weight into his arms, and settled her on his lap. She didn't say anything, just laid her head against his shoulder and snuggled a little closer. His body jumped to life, his erection instantaneous and painful with her sitting on top of it. Then she wiggled around, as if getting more comfortable. He gritted his teeth and stifled the moan tearing at his throat. Unbidden flashes of memory spiked through his mind of her naked body, pale and perfect, sprawled out in the center of his bed. Clasping his hands at her waist, he held her still. She settled against him once again, her cheek against his shoulder, her hand laying on his chest, her warm, chocolaty-scented breath teasing the skin of his throat. This was dangerous, he thought, even as he wrapped his arms around her and turned his face into her hair, breathing in her apple pie scent. God, she always smelled so good. Just to the left of them, Electra and Stephen whispered playfully, giggling like teenagers. Michaela sighed against his throat. "You didn't seem to have any real problem meeting everyone today," he commented. She shook her head, her soft hair tickling his chin. "I enjoyed it." She raised her head to meet his eyes. "Did you?"

He couldn't stop the small smile that curved his lips. She had tricked him. The little brat. He chuckled. "Yes, Michaela,"—he even loved the sound of her name—"I had a good time." He paused. "Thank you," he whispered. A smile broke through her serious expression before she lowered her head back to his shoulder. "You're welcome." Lina and Trent came out the back door and took up their position in the last lounger near the fire. Lina snuggled against Trent and both of them sighed as if perfectly content with the world. Only the sound of the crackling fire and the soft chirp of crickets disturbed the quiet darkness. Trent's voice was deep and lazy, laced with humor, as he asked, "Remember the last time the three of us sat around a campfire snuggled up with women?" "The Vanderhaus sisters," Stephen replied, followed by a little chuckle. "Graduation night, up at Devil's Peak." The feeling of lightness returned to Ty, and he smiled at the fond memory from their younger days. Long ago when he, Trent, and Stephen had been referred to as The Three Musketeers of Unegi. "Bridget, Francine and Monique," he supplied. "Ahh, Monique," Trent said on a sigh. "Hey!" He chuckled and grabbed Lina's elbow before she could land another blow to his gut. "It was twenty-some odd years ago, give a guy a break." Everyone, including the women, laughed. Michaela turned herself in his arms until her back lay against his front, her thighs draped over his, her butt cuddling his hard sex. Ty wanted to press against her, to ease the ache. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his chin on top of her head. Embers popped in the fire. Michaela jumped a bit, startled by the noise. He held her closer. She laid her hands over his and sighed, as if she was perfectly content with the world, too. "Always wondered what happened to the sisters," Trent commented, then kissed Lina's cheek as if placating her. Lina was a spitfire of the first degree. And obviously jealous of Trent's past conquests. Ty remembered the burning ire in Michaela's eyes as Carrie had flirted with him. Admittedly, jealousy from a woman was kind of a turn on. He glanced back at Trent and Lina and wondered if Trent didn't intentionally provoke his firecracker of a wife. "I get emails from Francine once in a while," Stephen said, even as he lifted Electra's hand to his lips. "She became an orthopedic surgeon, lives in San Diego with her husband and four kids." At everyone's silence, he added, "We met up at a medical conference in Seattle a few years back." "Ah," Lina said as she stroked Trent's arm as he held her. "And what of Monique?" There was no mistaking the humor behind her voice.

Stephen chuckled. "She's the wife of some state senator in Montana. Francine says she has a couple kids, too. And Bridget is somewhere in Africa, trying to find homes for orphans. They've all done very well for themselves." Ty glanced between Trent and Stephen. They'd done pretty well for themselves, too. Trent the local law, Stephen, Unegi's only doctor. And here he sat, just a year out of jail, the same age as his friends, nearing forty-five, and struggling to get a small cattle ranch out of the red. He swallowed. He definitely had turned out to be the loser of the bunch. Michaela leaned to the side, turned her head, and met his gaze. "Don't," she whispered, for his ears only. She reached up and touched his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Please be happy." She made him happy, he realized with instantaneous clarity. Nothing had ever made feel as comfortable and…needed as Michaela did. Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward just a bit and grazed his lips over hers. "Weren't you planning to ask Bridget to marry you?" Trent asked. "Hell no!" Michaela jumped at his exclamation. He laughed and snuggled her close again. "I was headed off to the circuit, I never thought about getting married. Hell, we were only seventeen." "That's not what I heard," Trent teased. "I heard she broke your heart when, two days after graduation, she dumped your ass for Joey Parker." "Joey Parker, the little punk," Ty said, without heat. Stephen and Trent laughed. Silence reigned once more. The fire was sputtering, dying down. The crickets had quieted. A big black cat leapt onto Lina's lap, and she snuggled it close against her and Trent. "Besides," Ty said lightly, "you were the only fool to run off and get married." "True," Trent admitted. He rubbed Lina's arm. "But the second time around was for keeps." "I keep telling him he should have just waited for me," Lina said. She kissed Trent's chin. "I almost got married once," Stephen said softly. Surprised, Ty turned to look at him. Electra had sat up and was staring at Stephen, too. "When?" Electra asked. "When I was in college." Stephen sounded infinitely sad. He shrugged, his motion just barely visible in the dying firelight. "It didn't…work out." "Oh, you poor baby," Electra said and put her arms around Stephen's neck.

Ty frowned. How odd that his current girlfriend would say something like that about an almost marriage when she didn't know the details. In fact, Ty was curious, himself. "Did you ever almost get married?" Michaela asked softly, her fingertips tickling the hairs on his arm. "Nope." "Not our local playboy," Trent said, then oomphed when Lina elbowed him again. "What's a playboy?" Michaela asked in her inquisitive way. Lina spoke up this time. "It's a guy who dates a lot of women. But Ty's…changed these past few years." Lina's steel gray eyes dared Ty to argue. He couldn't of course, because he had changed. Now he avoided women like the plague instead of trying to bed every one he came across. He'd even tried for Lina when she first came to Unegi, but she'd had eyes for only one person, the town sheriff. He chuckled, remembering her threats to his body parts if he so much as looked at her the wrong way. "Yes, ma'am. I've changed." "All for the better," Lina said with an air of authority, then laughed. "I actually like you now." Ty chuckled. "Thanks." But she could never know just how much that simple comment meant to him. Being liked had never been foremost in his list of things to need. At least not until he'd spent two years in a lonely jail cell, the only person to visit him the man who'd put him there, the man who'd been his buddy since childhood. ****

Michaela had fallen asleep on Ty's lap listening to the smooth sound of his deep voice as he talked to his friends about days long past. He'd tried not to wake her as he picked her up and carried her to the truck, but Electra had come running after them, nearly shouting that Michaela couldn't forget the books Electra had loaned her. Now her head lay back against the seat of the truck, and she watched the saguaro cacti and sagebrush rush past the windows in the bright glow of the full moon. "So,"—Ty's voice broke through the low rumble of the truck's quiet purr— "you read romance novels, huh?" Romance. Hm, another of the many words she'd have to look up she'd heard today. She assumed he referred to the instructional manuals Electra had given her. She fingered the books that lay on her lap and gave a noncommittal sound. "I guess I pictured you as more of a scientific journal type." He chuckled.

"With your curiosity about everything in general. A scientific journal sounded interesting. Something that might teach her more about earth and the things living and breathing on the planet. "Are you still awake?" "Mmhmm," she answered, loving the sound of his voice, but missing the warmth of his body she'd felt when he held her. "Do you have any scientific journals I could read?" His low rumbling laugh sent warm shivers dancing along her arms. "Sorry, sweetheart, the only scientific anything I read is on breeding cattle." Breeding, making babies. She could possibly learn something from those, too. "There's a library in Placer I could take you to. They should have some books that would interest you." She didn't know what a library was, but she did so love to read. "That would be nice." "How long do you plan to stay around here?" Ty asked, his voice dropping even lower. Michaela turned her head to see him. The green glow from the dashboard made his cheekbones stand out, his eyes a strange shade of darkness. "I have nowhere else to go," she answered simply. She would stay as long as…as he wanted her to, she supposed. "You have no other family besides Electra?" he asked. She shook her head. "None." "How long have you two been on your own?" Her chest tightened. He was asking those questions again, the ones that she would have to form untruths to answer if she couldn't sway him from the topic. "Do you have family?" He shook his head. "My parents died when I was eighteen. I was an only child. What about your parents, Michaela?" He wouldn't be deterred. She clasped her hands around the books on her lap. "No, I have no parents. Just…Electra." Which, she supposed was true. Electra was as close to a family as she possessed here. Angels didn't have siblings or parents, they just…were. She recalled the look of love in Trent and Lina's eyes as they played with Crystal. If she couldn't be on the receiving end of that kind of connection, she wanted to experience it from the parent's point of view. "Do you want children, Ty?" she asked. He started coughing, as if he'd swallowed something distasteful. "Uh," he said and then cleared his throat again. "I really hadn't thought about it

much. I'm kinda old to start now, don't you think?" "Trent is your age, isn't he? And he has a baby." Silence filled the truck for a long while, and Michaela studied Ty's face. He looked sad, again. She truly had to start thinking before she spoke. "Can you not have children?" Her voice was soft. She didn't want to hurt him. He sent her a quick glance before he turned onto the rough dirt road leading to the ranch. "I'm sure I could, if I tried. I've just never thought of myself as father material. I didn't exactly have a role model to learn from. My father was a mean drunk. He died, taking my mother with him, while driving home under the influence from the bar late one night." "Oh." She didn't understand half his words, but his tone held all the meaning she needed. He didn't think he was good enough to be a father. Just like he hadn't thought he was good enough to be accepted back among his friends. He stopped the truck near the front porch of the ranch house, shut off the engine, then turned toward her in the darkness. She could barely make out his shape, couldn't see his eyes at all. "Look, Michaela, I'm not someone for you to…uh…set your sights on. I'm not…I can't…" She saw the shadow of his hand raise and rake through his hair. "I'm not the settle down, start a family type, okay?" She thought it wasn't okay, not at all, that he was underestimating himself again. The edges of the books dug into the pads of her fingers. Perhaps they'd give her a better idea how to convince him he was wrong. He turned away and opened the door. "Come on, it's late." He climbed out, then came around and lifted her down from her side. His hand lingered on her waist, and her breath came out in a soft whoosh when her breasts— Jess had referred to the mammary glands as such—brushed against Ty's chest. She heard him swallow. In the moonlight, she gazed up at him. The look in his eyes made her think he was going to kiss her again. She leaned toward him ever so slightly. His fingers flexed against her body and sharp, wonderful sensations radiated along her skin from his touch. Ty cleared his throat. "Would you want to come work with me tomorrow? With the animals? I was wondering if you could do that little calming trick with a couple of cows I need to give an injection to. They set up an awful fuss whenever I get close to them." He let go of her and stepped away. Another emotion—disappointment—flooded her senses. "Sure," she answered, not really knowing what he asked. "Great." He turned toward the house, his boots crunching on the rocky path. Stryker let out a deep woof and met them at the top step of the porch. "Hey, old boy," Ty said as he ruffled his fingers through Stryker's fur. "You keep the raccoons at bay tonight?" Stryker let out a little whine and thumped his tail against the floor.

If Ty could be gentle with a strange, temperamental old dog, she thought as she followed them into the house, he could be gentle and loving to a baby. Stryker followed her into her room and hopped up on the bed, circled twice, plopped down, and heaved a heavy sigh. Yes, she thought as she began unbuttoning her shirt, she'd start reading the books tomorrow. With any luck, they would tell her what she needed to know to convince Ty he was the sweet, wonderful man she knew he was.

Chapter Eight

Two nights later, Michaela sat on the bed, Stryker snuggled next to her, and finished the first of the two books Electra had given her. She'd come to realize it was more of a proverb than an actual instructional manual. The man in the book was just like Ty. Ty didn't think he was worthy of the love that his friends gave him, and that she herself, now fully convinced that it was love she felt for him, wanted to give him. Michaela sighed and set the book on the nightstand, turned off the bedside lamp, and rolled over, wrapping her arm around Stryker. How could she convince Ty that he should accept her love? How could she get him to profess to her, as the man had to the woman in the book, that he needed her and wanted her in his life? Stryker snored lightly, his front paws jerking spasmodically. Ty said he was dreaming when he did that. Michaela smoothed her hand down the dog's side and whispered soothing words to him. Stryker let out a tiny whine, then lay still. At least she understood what sex was now. The book explained all about lust and love, physical and emotional. Just reading about it had made Michaela tingle all over and long for Ty to do those things to her, the things he'd started to do the other day. Kissing and touching. A tingle raced through her, and an ache deep inside her intensified. Oh, how she wanted him to do those things again. But for the two days since he'd held her while they sat near the fire pit, he hadn't so much as touched her. She'd worked by his side with the cattle and horses. He told her he admired the way she was able to calm them. He watched her. She could see in his expression that he wanted to kiss her, but every time she stood too close to him, he moved away. Closing her eyes, she moved even closer to Stryker's warm body. He was no substitute for Ty, but she enjoyed the dog's loyalty to her, even though Ty seemed a bit upset by it. She smiled. Ty was jealous of a dog. A little giggle slipped out of her. Someday, it would be Ty lying here with her, not the dog, and then everything would be perfect.

****

The low rumble of thunder woke Ty around three a.m. Glancing out the bedroom window, he saw the faraway flashes of lightning. He ran a mental check on the animals. The cattle in the fields would be fine, but he should run out to the barn and check to see that the horses all got inside. He rolled off the bed, pulled on his jeans, and shoved his feet into his boots. Chances were, the rain wouldn't even reach the ranch. Unegi hadn't seen any rain in close to three months. It would be nice to get a good healthy dousing, for the alfalfa, if nothing else. Rain would save him a couple of days worth of the diesel fuel that ran the irrigation through the field. Heading out the front door, he thought he should probably give Michaela a paycheck. She'd been on the ranch over a week, and he hadn't even thought of paying her. Ginger and Elmer, his two cow ponies, were in the paddock, along with the two half-wild broncs he'd been trying to break. He glanced up at the sky as the flashes of lightning grew brighter and the thunder became louder. Maybe they would get some rain tonight. He headed toward the barn. He'd throw the back door open so the horses could come in of their own will if they wanted out of the rain. They'd never discussed pay, come to think of it. Then he chuckled to himself. With the broken vacuum and the bleached clothes, it would take a few paychecks to replace those items. But he wouldn't try to punish her. These past two days watching her with the animals—he shook his head— she was amazing. Whatever magic she wielded was something to watch. She could walk right up to a scared cow, reach out and touch the animal, and instantly the beast calmed. The only problem he had was with her insistence that the two broncs did not wish to be ridden. The biggest surprise, though, was that she claimed to never have ridden a horse, yet he put her up on Ginger and she was a natural. And she works, he thought as he threw open the door between the barn and the paddock. That woman was right there by his side for a solid twelve hours while they rode fence lines, gave the cows their injections, and she even pitched in with repairing a few downed fences. He should keep her out of the house and away from washing machines and vacuums. Ginger came trotting over to him and nudged his bare chest with her velvet nose. "Sorry girl, no apples tonight." He scratched her forehead. Ginger wuffled over his chest, then at his jeans pockets, looking for her treat. Then she stopped and looked over his shoulder, as if waiting for Michaela to appear. "Sorry, Gin, she's not coming out to play tonight. She's still asleep." Ginger blew out a breath and turned away from him, rejoining Elmer at the fence. "Just like Stryker," he mumbled as he headed for the hose on the side of the building to refill the watering trough. "You're all turning your backs on me because you've fallen in love with Michaela."

With thoughts of loving Michaela in his mind, he nearly tripped over the hose in the dark. Just thinking about her got him hot and hard. The past couple of days working with her and keeping his hands to himself had been torture. He wasn't sure how much longer he could do it. He couldn't have her. There was no way in hell he was going to take her virginity. Yet having her around… He dropped the end of the hose into the trough and turned on the spigot set against the side of the barn. Suddenly the wind shifted direction and the temperature dropped. Where it had been pleasantly warm, now a chill raced over him. He turned off the spigot. It was going to rain, no need to fill the trough. A blinding flash of lightning lit the sky and was immediately followed by a rolling, crashing round of thunder. The yard lights went out. The first icy drops of rain hit his bare skin as he jumped over the paddock fence and dashed across the wide yard for the front of the house. ****

Michaela sat up in the bed, her heart thudding too hard in her chest, a scream trapped in her throat. Bright flashes of light lit the bedroom, followed by a horrible rumbling noise that shook the bed. Stryker jumped from the bed and let out a low woof before he ran from the room. The windows rattled and the floor shook as Michaela grabbed her robe and pulled it on. What is happening? She hurried across the hall to Ty's bedroom. The bright white light flashed again and she could see his bed was empty. She ran down the hall to the kitchen and reached for the light switch. Nothing happened. The house was still dark except for the frightening light flashing through the windows. Another sound started, as if rocks were pelting the house. She leaned against the wall, pulled her robe tight around her, and called for Ty. No reply. Stryker yipped and barked at the door. She wouldn't let Stryker outside. It sounded as if the house was going to be torn apart. The floors shook with each of the rumbling-booming noises. The flashes were coming faster. Michaela's stomach turned over, and she clamped her hand over her mouth. Where was Ty? Tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked fast to keep them from falling. Had something happened to him? "Ty!" she cried as she sank to the floor. Pulling her knees to her chin, she huddled by the wall. Her stomach hurt, and she buried her face against her knees to block out the painfully bright lights coming in through the windows. Sobs tore from her throat. "Ty," she whispered. "What's happened to Ty?" ****

The front door crashed open and Ty fought the wind to slam it shut. He laughed as Stryker jumped up on him and yipped like a puppy. "You'd get carried away by that wind, ol' boy." He ruffled the dog's ears.

Stryker dashed away, then returned, nudged Ty's leg and then ran toward the kitchen again. Ty's heart stuttered. "Michaela!" he called as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, following Stryker. He nearly tripped over her. She sat on the floor, her knees drawn up, her arms folded over her head as if she was protecting it. "Michaela." He knelt next to her. "Hey, sweetheart." He reached out and touched her shoulder. She jumped and raised her head so fast it thudded against the wall. "Hey." "Ty!" She launched herself against him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and sobbed into his shoulder. "You…were…gone…" Convulsing shivers coursed through her, chattering her teeth as if she'd been the one out in the rain. Her hot tears scalded his chilled skin. "The noise…what…is it?" "It's just a summer storm, baby." He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. The poor woman was terrified. "I went to open the barn so the horses could come inside." "They'll be so scared," she said, pulling away. "I have to go see them." He caught her hand just as she tried standing up. "Sweetie, the horses will be fine. You're the only one who's scared right now." He got to his feet, pulled her up, and led her across the hall to the living room. "Come sit with me. We'll watch the lightning from here." Michaela tried pulling her hand from his. Her skin was cold, her palms a bit damp. He tugged her along and sat down on the couch facing the big picture window. When she stood like a statue next to the couch, mesmerized by the lighting through the window, he pulled her down on his lap. "Everything's fine, Michaela," he promised as he snuggled her close. Her body still shook. Every once in a while a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and tracked down her cheek. "Are you always afraid of storms?" She shook her head against his chest, then buried her face against his shoulder. "Never seen one." Her words were muffled against his skin. Her breath was hot, and as a cold drip of water trickled down his spine, he realized he was still drenched. "There's no thunderstorms where you're from?" he asked. She shook her head, bumping his chin. He'd heard of places that didn't get many, like way up north. But to be thirty years old and never have experienced one before? Another crash of thunder sounded. Michaela whimpered and clung to him so hard she nearly choked him. Hell, he loved storms. The power behind them, the beauty. "Sweetie," he whispered, a smile on his lips. She felt so good in his arms. And it felt good to be needed. "Babe, turn around and watch. I promise, in here you're safe and warm. It can't hurt you." She shook her head again.

Reaching up, he grasped her hands and slowly brought them down between them. "Turn around," he whispered. "I'm right here. I won't let you go. You've just got to see. It's beautiful." After a few long seconds, he felt her heave out a breath, and then she slowly leaned away from him. "That's my girl," he whispered, then placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "You're perfectly safe. It can't hurt you in here." "It could hurt me out there?" "It's possible. It's usually a good thing to be inside where it's nice and dry instead of standing out there in the middle of it." He grinned. "You're wet." "It's raining hard." "You could have been hurt." Her breath hitched. "Don't get hurt." Another tear trailed down her cheek. "Shh. I won't." Leaning forward just a bit, he brushed his lips over hers. "Everything's fine." He couldn't stop himself. These past two days had been pure hell keeping his distance from her. When she leaned into him, he took her mouth as he wanted to, needed to, with fierce possession. Her apples and cinnamon taste was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. Like an addiction. He broke the kiss, his gut clenching in fear. He couldn't let himself do this. Not now. Not ever. She leaned into him, her face upturned, her lips slightly swollen. Her skin so damn pale in the quick flashes of lightning. "Michaela." Voice gruff, he swallowed. "Don't." "It's okay, Ty," she said in the softest whisper as she pulled one hand from his. Touching his cheek with feather-light caresses, she said, "I'll never hurt you." "I'm the one who'll hurt you, Michaela. I will," he said more forcefully when she started to shake her head at him. "I'm no good, babe. I'm not. I hurt everyone I touch. I can't…not you. You're too special." Her forehead thumped against his shoulder. "You're stupid." Instantly indignant, he speared his hands through her hair and lifted her head. "What do you mean, I'm stupid? You're the stupid one if you think that I'm going to take your virginity and not hurt you. I am no good, Michaela. Get that through your head! All I want from you is sex, that's all I've ever wanted from a woman. You're too good for that. Do you hear me? Do you?" Stryker barked and jumped up on the couch, sticking his face between Ty and Michaela's. He curled his lip at Ty, and let out a low grumbly growl.

"Shit." Ty eased his hands out of Michaela's hair. "I'm sorry." She looked at him with an expression of pity in her eyes, as if he hadn't just attacked her and yelled at her. She felt sorry for him. Stryker licked Ty's cheek, then jumped off the couch. Embarrassed for having lost his temper, he smoothed his fingers down Michaela's cheek. "I'm very sorry." She had no reason to feel pity for him. He was who he was. He couldn't change that. And he sure as hell wouldn't ruin Michaela because he was horny. She deserved so much more. More than he could ever give her. "Stop looking at me like that, Michaela." Her tongue peeked out, licking her bottom lip. "Like what?" "Like I'm a goddamned bug and you're a scientist. Don't try to figure me out, okay? I can't even figure myself out. You sure won't be able to." "Oh," she said as she settled against his chest, turning her head to look out the window, "I've already figured you out, Ty Brock. And soon, you will too." ****

"Ty." He heard Michaela's voice from somewhere far away. He grabbed his pillow and pulled it over his head, not ready to face her yet. Feeling as though he'd just fallen asleep after sitting with her through the storm, he needed more sleep. "Ty. I made you breakfast. And some coffee, too." He groaned. Michaela in the kitchen was a dangerous thing. Last time she tried cooking, she'd ruined a cast iron pan. He hadn't known it was possible to ruin cast iron, but she'd succeeded. The pungent scent of coffee snaked its way to him, and he inhaled deeply. It did smell delicious. "Come on, Ty, we have to go check the cattle, make sure they made it through the storm all right." That got him moving. He threw the pillow off and sat up. He wasn't in his bed. He was still on the couch. His shoulders and neck twinged painfully, reminding him he was too damn old to sleep anywhere but a bed. Michaela sat on her knees in front of him holding a steaming mug of coffee. "Thank you," he said in a gruff voice as he took the mug. It was stronger than he preferred, but he gave her an A for effort. "Did you sleep all right?" she asked, her tone light, conversational. He grunted and rubbed his neck. "What time is it?" "Almost eleven." She stood up and left the living room. Eleven. Last time he'd checked it'd been about five a.m. and Michaela had fallen asleep in his arms. He'd taken advantage of the situation and lay

down with her, holding her close, knowing that was about as close to sleeping with her as he was ever going to get. Nothing had felt so perfect, so right, as having her warm body sprawled over his. "Stupid sonofabitch," he grumbled as he drained the coffee mug. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." Michaela giggled from the hallway. "Breakfast is ready." His face flamed with embarrassment that she'd heard him, especially after she'd called him stupid just a few hours earlier. As he stood up, he realized his jeans were still damp. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, the soggy material chafing his waist and thighs. He stumbled into the kitchen, still groggy and completely out of sorts, and sank down into his chair. "You look horrible," Michaela announced cheerily as she laid a plate in front of him. He examined the food and couldn't believe what he saw. A cheesy omelet cooked to perfection, with crisp strips of bacon on the side and perfectly toasted bread slathered with butter. "How?" was all he could think to say. Just a few days ago she'd tried to simply fry eggs and…they'd been inedible. She laughed and sat down across the table with her toast and jam, looking too damn good for how he felt. "I found a book of cooking on the shelf in the living room this morning. It gives instructions." She poured another cup of coffee for him from the carafe sitting on the table. "You don't like omelets?" Slicing off a chunk of the omelet with the edge of his fork, he took a tentative bite. It practically melted in his mouth. "Oh, this is good. Better than Abby's." From across the table, Michaela beamed a megawatt smile at him. "There's lots of different meals in that book. I can't wait to make them for you. There's this stuff called stew that sounds wonderful, well, except for the meat, but I could eat the vegetables in it." "Recipes," he said absently as he took another bite. "They're called recipes, and if I knew you'd be able to do this with a cookbook, I'd have given it to you days ago. Wow, it's good. But how did you make the toast?" She'd drowned the toaster over a week ago. "In the oven, the old fashioned way. At least, that's what the book says." She sipped her coffee. "You're sure the food is good?" Shutting his eyes to savor the egg and cheese, he nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure." ****

Three hours later, Ty slogged into the thigh-deep mud hole to pull out a calf who'd gotten himself stuck. The humidity was high from the rain the

night before, and the sun beat down on his shoulders, baking him through his work shirt. Sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes, making them sting. Michaela stopped at the edge of the mud and watched him. She looked so damn cool and collected. Her hair was pulled up under a straw cowboy hat he'd loaned her, her white shirt still pristine even though she'd been riding through the heat right along with him. She even still smelled good, he'd noticed as he walked past her. Her apple pie scent was teasing him, testing him, making him ache and making him want to throw her down, right on the soggy ground and sink deep inside her. Damn the consequences. The calf bawled miserably as he approached. "You see the mama coming, you holler, got it?" "Of course," Michaela answered in the cheery tone she'd been using all day. He ground his teeth in annoyance and closed the distance between him and the six-month-old calf, holding out a rope to loop over its neck. The calf tried moving away, its big brown eyes rolling fearfully. The mud was getting deeper, nearly to his waist. His lip curled in disgust as it sucked at his legs—cold, slimy dampness seeping through his jeans. "You better be worth this," he muttered to the calf as he looped the rope over its head. "You're not much for brains, though, are you?" The calf jerked against the rope, crying its misery. "You should have let me go in after him. I could have talked him out." Ty turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Michaela. "Give me a break. You can't talk an animal out of a mud hole." Michaela's lips twitched, and her green eyes glittered with laughter. Ty's temper skyrocketed. She whispered something in a language he'd never heard before, and the calf stopped bawling. Ty glanced at the calf, then back at Michaela. More foreign words came out of her. The calf calmly nudged past Ty, the mud making sucking noises as it freed itself. Michaela laughed, then continued speaking, holding her hand out to the calf. "Son of a friggin' bitch," Ty muttered as he watched the calf walk right out of the mud hole and up to Michaela, holding its nose out to her. Michaela dug a piece of carrot she kept for Ginger from her pocket, and fed it to the calf. "That's a good baby," she muttered and pet the beast as if it were a big puppy. "Go find your mother now." The calf turned and trotted away. Ty started the twenty-foot trip back to solid ground, his back teeth grinding in agitation. "You could have said something sooner. You could have kept me from slogging through this crap." His chest heaved with the exertion of fighting his way through three feet of sticky mud. "Damn it, Michaela. Would you explain how the hell you did that?"

His foot slipped. He went down, face-first into the mud, his arms sinking up to the shoulders in the goo. That does it! He'd had enough. Enough of Michaela's Dr. Dolittle act. He fought his way to his feet and swiped his muddy face with an equally muddy hand. And now she was laughing at him. She'd probably been laughing the whole time she'd been living with him. Crying over steak. He struggled toward the edge of the mud, swiping his hands down his slickly coated arms. Bleaching his clothes. He slipped again, but caught himself before he took a nosedive. "You think this is funny?" Michaela was doubled over with laugher. He ignored the tiny warming of his heart at the happy sound. He was pissed, and he planned on staying that way, damn it. She laughed so hard she snorted. His lips twitched, a smile trying to escape. The hat had fallen from her head, and shoulder length curls surrounded her face, making her look like a madwoman. With a few more near slips, he climbed out of the mud. "You're going to pay for this." "I know!" She launched herself at him. Unprepared for her action, he fell backwards with a splat, right into the mud, with little Ms. Dolittle sprawled on top of him.

Chapter Nine

Her laughter turned into sputtering as mud flew everywhere. Ty grunted from the impact of her body. She hadn't hurt him, had she? Trying to blink the mess from her eyes, she stared at his shocked expression. "I'm…uh…" She tried to push herself off him but the soft, cool mud oozed through her fingers. "Oh…my goodness." She had no idea it would feel so wonderful. "What the hell is wrong with you, woman?" She scooped up two handfuls of the mud and rubbed it between her hands. She grinned. "Why didn't you tell me what it was like?" She let the mound of mud plop down on Ty's chest. "It's like the chocolate frosting from Jess's cake." "Yeah, well." Ty tried sitting up, but she still lay over him and she didn't want to move. She liked touching him, and the cool mud felt so good against her hot skin. He struggled for a moment then flopped back, throwing his hands out to the sides. "Don't eat it." He let out a long sigh and gave her the look that said he didn't know what to think about her. A look she was quite familiar with by now. He was probably trying to understand how she'd never felt mud before. He closed his eyes and sighed again. "You can get off me now, Michaela.

You've made your point." Then he muttered, "Whatever the hell point you were trying to make, I'm sure you made it." Michaela giggled. "I don't think I have." She picked up another handful of the silky mud and plopped it right on his forehead. His eyes flew open. "What the hell? You are totally nuts!" He grabbed her arms with his mud-slicked hands as she burst out laughing again. His indignant glare sent her into near hysterics. He tried to pretend he was such a big, bad man, but she knew better. "What are you gonna do to me now?" she taunted, recalling the teasing the kids had done to each other at Jess's party. Ty growled and rolled over. Michaela's entire body sank into the squishy mud. Only her head remained above the brown goo. And that Ty cupped with his hand to make sure it didn't go under. Even when he looked so mad, he made sure nothing happened to her. She grinned up at him, lifted her arms, and wrapped them around his neck. Splats of mud landed on her cheeks, and she giggled. "I see why the calf came in here. It feels so good." "Crazy lady," Ty growled as he wiggled his way to his knees, pulling Michaela up with him. "You know your shirt will never be white again, don't you?" How could she get him to smile? To laugh? All morning he'd been scowling and grumpy. She shrugged. "I know how to use bleach." He pursed his lips and fought his way to his feet. The mud sucked and glopped around him, and the sound sent her into another fit of giggles. She had no idea what was wrong with her, but she couldn't stop laughing. "Ha, ha, very funny. Do you have any idea what it's going to be like getting this mud out of your hair?" He held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "Ty?" "What?" He'd just turned away to climb out of the mud and was pulling his shirt over his head, not bothering with the snaps. There was no mistaking the hostility in his voice. She'd angered him. No matter how many times she saw his bare body, she was never prepared for the way her own body reacted to it. His back was smooth, with rippling muscles in his shoulders and back. His arms were long, and all she could think about was how they felt wrapped around her last night, taking away her fear. She wanted to rub her hands, mud and all, over his skin. Shivering, she imagined what it would feel like to have the cool mud rubbed on her bare skin by his big, rough hands. "What?" he said again as he turned her way. "Don't tell me you're stuck now." He dropped his shirt on the ground and came back toward her. She shook her head. "I'm not stuck." Taking a few tentative steps, pushing

her feet through the heavy weight of the slick mud, she moved toward the dry ground. Ty grabbed her wrist and hauled her the rest of the way out. She stumbled and landed against his chest, her face pressed against his shoulder. He sucked in his breath and firmly caught her by the shoulders. "You'll be the death of me, Michaela." When she looked up into his beautiful cinnamon eyes, she didn't see anger there. She saw anguish. That pain came back to her chest, the one she always felt when he was sad. She didn't want to be his death. She wanted to be his salvation. But he didn't want her. No, that wasn't correct. He wanted her. He just wouldn't let himself believe he was good enough to have her. But she knew with all her soul he was good enough. She couldn't imagine her mortal life without him. She took a deep breath, then forced a smile to her lips. "I don't think that rolling in a mud hole will kill you, Ty." Stepping out of his tender grasp, she turned toward Ginger. He let out one of those sighs he was so fond of when he didn't know what to think of her. "We better get back to the house before this all dries. You're going to find out just how cold the water is coming out of the hose. No way you're going to walk through my house dripping mud." She giggled. He was back to blustering, acting like he was still mad. "Yes," she said as she pulled herself up into Ginger's saddle, nearly slipping off the opposite side because of her slimy jeans. She laughed as Ty lunged over to grab her waist before she gained her balance. "I wouldn't want to walk through the house like this because I'm the one who would have to clean it up afterwards. And the vacuum is still broken." She reined Ginger around. "Don't forget your hat," she threw out as she spurred Ginger away from Ty. "It's still in the mud!" ****

That evening, Michaela finished the second of the two books Electra had given her, and she had the perfect idea for seduction. She smiled to herself. She liked that word. Seduction. Too bad she hadn't had the idea earlier when they'd come home all muddy and needed showers. She grinned as she set the book on the nightstand. Tomorrow morning would be the perfect time, though. Ty took a shower every morning before he even had his first cup of coffee. She heard the front door open and close, then Stryker came bounding into her room, jumped up on the bed, and licked her chin before she could push his nose away from her. "Yeah, it's bed time, you old mutt," Michaela said as she scratched his ears and rubbed his chin. The dog yawned big, making a squeaky sound like the rusty hinges of the barn door. Michaela laughed. "Hey." Michaela looked up at Ty standing in the doorway to her bedroom. "Hi." She

tried holding back her smile, but remembering her plans for the morning, it was nearly impossible. He held up a piece of paper between two fingers. "Here's your first week's pay." "Pay?" His eyes closed for a moment, his jaw flexed. He'd been agitated and grumpy all day. Michaela knew she was the source of his discomfort, but she truly didn't know why. "Pay. Salary. Money for working here. Your paycheck." He dropped it on top of the chest of drawers near the door. "Money." She brightened. "Does that mean I could go into Unegi and buy some new clothes?" Electra had told her all about shopping and clothing. Though she couldn't imagine wearing anything like what Electra had been wearing, the idea of having a couple more shirts so she didn't have to do the laundry every night was very appealing. Ty pressed two fingers against his forehead. He looked like he might be in pain. "You have money in that black bag of yours. Why haven't you mentioned shopping before now? I thought maybe you were saving it for something more important than clothes." "I have money in my bag?" She scooted off the bed and went to the black leather bag that sat on a chair under the window. "Where?" She pulled out the little cards—her identification, her white book, and a stack of funny looking paper. None of it looked like the piece of paper he'd been holding. Ty's boots struck the floor hard as he came toward her. He grabbed the stack of paper from her hand and flipped it near her nose. "This is money," he growled. "Probably close to five grand." "Is that a lot?" "Would you like to explain to me how you have it and don't even know what the hell it is?" His eyes, they looked very…hard…right now. Michaela took a step back. "Answer me, Michaela. Why don't you know anything?" "I…" "At first I thought you were faking it, but you're not, are you?" He threw the paper back into the bag. "Where did you grow up? Who took care of you as a child? Were you in some strange foreign convent where men weren't allowed? No electricity, no running water? But even that doesn't explain mud. Mud, for Christ's sake. Everyone in the world knows what mud is." He stalked toward her as she backed up until she bumped into the wall. He wouldn't harm me, she reminded herself, even as fear ran a cold finger down her spine. Ty Brock looked very capable of hurting her right now. His hands came up on each side of her head, caging her against the wall.

"I'm waiting for an answer." "I have no answer." His hands slid from the wall, curling around her shoulders. "Yes you do. Tell me." His voice was so unfeeling, so angry. Tears rushed to her eyes. "I can't. It's against the rules." He shook her once, not hard. "Whose rules?" Stryker barked, but Ty ignored the dog. "Gabriel's." "Who the hell is this Gabriel person?" He shook her again. "And why did he send you here?" The dog began a low growl. "I can't…" The tears started to fall then, she couldn't hold them back. She wanted to tell him. Needed to. But it was forbidden. "I can't tell you." He was relentless. "What language were you speaking when you talked to that calf today?" His hands tightened on her upper arms almost painfully. Stryker's growl turned into more of a snarl, and Michaela feared he'd hurt Ty. She twisted away from his grasp and shoved against his chest, moving him only far enough so she could step away from the wall. Laying her hand on the dog's head, she could feel his body shaking with agitation, much the way Ty's was. She swiped the tears from her eyes, angry at herself for not being a stronger mortal. "It's called the Greater Language. And I do know things. I know many things. I can read and write any language on earth. I can learn, Ty Brock. I have tried my best to learn everything I can about the mor—way of ranch life." She blew out a breath. "But you ask questions I cannot answer. What difference does it make where I'm from? If I am not satisfactory to you, then send me away." Her stomach clenched at the thought, but if he could not accept her, then what was the use of staying with him? She feared life without him, but she did have Electra. She wouldn't be completely alone. Ty's hands fisted at his sides. "Why can't you answer? Were you in jail? Are you a criminal?" He shook his head. "Trent couldn't find anything about you. Nothing. You just appeared one day. Is Michaela Smith even your real name?" Michaela sunk her fingers into Stryker's course, shaggy fur at the scruff of his neck. "I'm not a bad person, Ty. I've done nothing wrong in my life." If only he knew that her entire life consisted of the days she'd lived in his house. "I come from far away, a place very different than here."

"Where?" he asked, tipping his head back and scrubbing his hands over his face. "Where?" He brought his eyes back to her. "And don't give me some nonsense about Iceland." She thought about the pictures she'd found in one of his magazines of Antarctica. Blue and white. That was more like where she was from. Pale blue and white. No bright sunshine, no dark night. No colors. A land of ice, only not cold. Not warm. There was nothing there. Space. A place where time meant nothing. Even if she was allowed to explain, how could she? "A land of ice," she whispered, not even realizing the words had come out. How could an angel's soul be so empty? Until experiencing emotions, she had no idea how empty her existence had been…up there. "A land of ice," Ty repeated. She looked up at him, saw something new in his eyes. They'd turned gentle, warmed. He stepped toward her and wrapped her in his embrace, holding her loosely against his wide, solid chest. "You've been hurt, haven't you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against her ear. She tried shaking her head against him, but his hand cupped the back of her head and held her still. "It's okay, baby. I didn't understand." Michaela let out a heavy sigh. He still didn't. He was doing that mortal thing again, jumping to conclusions. She learned a lot about that while reading the romance manuals. Mortals really needed to take things at face value instead of seeing what they wanted to see in them. She felt his lips against her head. "It's okay. Tomorrow we'll go talk to Trent and get this straightened out. Whoever you're running from, we'll take care of it." She felt like growling the way Stryker did when he was unhappy. How could she make this man understand without telling him everything? She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn't running from anyone, but snapped her teeth together before any sound came out. He wasn't questioning her any longer. And he was holding her again. Her lips curled into a smile. This was exactly what she'd wanted. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she leaned against him, soaked in the warmth of his body through her robe, inhaled the spicy scent of his skin. Tomorrow, she'd use the shower trick to distract him from going to talk to Trent about some danger that didn't exist. ****

Ty rolled out of bed at four-thirty the next morning. What was the point of lying in bed if sleep wasn't happening? After his confrontation with Michaela the night before about her past, he'd lain in bed all night, tossing and turning. Worrying. If she and Electra were hiding from someone, how dangerous might this person be? He recalled horror stories of parents locking their children in

basements and closets their whole lives, keeping them from any contact with the outside world. That could explain her lack of knowledge of anything commonplace, like a washing machine. He pulled on his boxers and made his way to the bathroom. A hot shower, and then he'd head out to the barn for a couple hours worth of manual labor before breakfast. Maybe by then he'd be able to deal with Michaela without his emotions running on the jagged edge. He turned the tub tap on and stepped out of his underwear. Last night he hadn't known if he wanted to strangle her or make love to her. Hell, he thought as he stepped under the stinging spray, all he'd wanted to do since the moment he first saw her was make love to her. Even now, when he knew he couldn't have her the way he wanted, his body didn't listen. Leaning against the cold tiled wall, he let the hot water beat at his shoulders and neck. The relaxation techniques he'd taught himself while in jail hadn't worked last night. They weren't working now. No amount of slow breathing and finding his place of serenity was going to get rid of his erection. Giving in to his aching need for release, he curled his hand around himself, nearly groaning. He wanted it to be Michaela's hand that touched him. Imagining her hands on him, he closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against the wall, and slowly stroked himself. ****

Michaela's eyes flew open at the sound of the shower. She rolled over and checked the clock on the nightstand. The lighted numbers said 4:37. He was up too early. She scooted out of bed and picked up her robe off the end. Stryker still slept soundly, his head on the other pillow. Heart pounding furiously in her throat, she moved out of her room to the next door, the bathroom door. She raised her hand to knock, but stopped herself. The women in the books didn't knock. No, they just…went in. She needed to catch Ty off guard, fall naked into his arms so he had no choice but to return her kisses. Once he saw her naked, he wouldn't be able to control his lust and he'd finally make love to her. A shiver of excitement raced down her arms, made her fingers tingle. And then he'd tell her he loved her, that he couldn't live without her. Silently, she turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. Steam rolled out of the tiny bathroom into the hallway. Even better, she thought with a smile as she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. He wouldn't see her until she was in the bathtub with him. She opened her robe and slipped it off. She heard Ty moan, as if he were in pain. Little flutters set up in her stomach as she tucked the robe onto the towel rack. "Yes, baby," Ty groaned. Her pulse raced. Did he know she was there? Did he know what she'd

planned? Careful not to alert him to her presence, she silently pulled the cloth curtain back and peeked into the shower. He stood with his back to her, his head bowed forward, one hand braced on the wall and the other… Excitement coursed through her, making her feel weak and powerful at the same time. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! It looked so much more interesting than she'd imagined from the books. And he was touching himself, just the way she wanted to. Stepping into the tub, she didn't bother pulling the curtain back into place. She just wanted to touch him. Oh my goodness, he was muscled all over. Even his posterior looked firm and so…she couldn't think of a word to describe him. Almost giggling at the thought that came to her, she thought he looked yummy. Better than the chocolate cake she'd had at the party. She had an overwhelming urge to nibble him, to find out what his firm flesh would feel like between her teeth. He groaned again. Rubbed himself faster. "Yes baby, yes baby, yes baby," he said in a hoarse whisper that made Michaela's flesh tingle. Taking the two small steps that separated her breasts from his back, she pressed against him, wrapped her arms around him and laid her hands over his. "Michaela!" He growled, throwing his head back as his entire body tensed and shook. His hot, slicked back sent shocks of intense pleasure from her breasts to her stomach. He took two gulping breaths, the motion sending more spiking heat racing through her body. A little moan escaped her lips before she could stifle it. She opened her lips over his shoulder blade, let her teeth graze his taut skin. Then it seemed he quit breathing altogether. She moved her hands from his, wanting to touch more of him, his arms, his chest, his buttocks. He jerked his hand off the wall and grabbed both her wrists, holding them away from his flesh. "Do you not know the meaning of the word no?"

Chapter Ten

"No?" Michaela asked, stunned at the angry tone in his voice. "But you kept saying yes, yes, yes!" His grip on her wrists tightened before he released her, folded his arms on the wall, and laid his head against them. "Get out." "But—"

"Out! Get the fuck out." "Ty." She laid her hands on his back. Oh, he felt good. His skin was so hot, his muscles so hard beneath. He tensed. Her eyes were drawn to his firm buttocks, how the muscles scrunched up. She licked her lips, the urge to take that bite so strong she had to look away. "Why are you doing this to me?" he groaned. "Would you please just go away and leave me alone?" "I don't want to go away, Ty Brock. I want you to make love to me." She ran her hands down his sides, over his hips, reveling in his sleek body so different from hers. He turned so fast she nearly lost her balance. He grabbed her by the upper arms and lifted her from the tub. "No." She got one look at the front of him, but something was wrong. Something had happened. Where did his penis go? It'd shrunk! "Ty," she whispered, unable to look away. "Ty, what…" He grabbed her chin, lifting her head so she met his dark, angry eyes. "No," he growled. "Not now, not ever. No. No. No. If you don't know what it means, go look it up in that damn book of yours. I won't take your goddamned virginity!" He released her, grabbed a towel off the rack, and draped it around his hips. Then he shoved her robe at her. "Put it on." This hadn't worked like it was supposed to. Seeing her naked was supposed to send him into a frenzy of lust and longing. He wanted her to cover up and go away. Was there something wrong with her body? She glanced down at herself. She looked like every other woman she'd seen at Jess's party, so why was he glaring at her as if she were something disgusting on the bottom of his cowboy boots? She poked her arms into the robe's sleeves and crossed the lapels, covering her body from his view. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe the reason wasn't that he didn't feel worthy, it was just that he didn't want her. She frowned up at him. Nothing made sense. He'd said he wanted her. "I don't understand any of this," she admitted. "You don't understand what?" he growled and placed his hands on his hips. He was doing a lot of that lately, the growling thing. Kind of like Stryker. "Isn't making love a good thing when you want to be closer to someone? I want to be close to you, Ty." She willed him to understand. But, it was true, she didn't understand it all herself. His eyes shut for a moment, his head dropping forward. "You need to make love with a man who is going to pledge his life to you, his love. Why can't you understand that I am not that man?"

Oh. He didn't love her. And he was one of those honorable men the romance manual spoke of, a man who wouldn't have sex with a woman unless he loved her. She couldn't fault him for that, she supposed. She folded her arms around herself, feeling a big empty hole in her chest. Why couldn't he love her? She turned and grabbed the doorknob. "I'm sorry, Ty. I didn't know." She rushed from the steamy bathroom before the tears could fall. ****

Ty slammed the posthole digger into the still damp earth, twisted it, and jerked out a chunk of dirt. The sun was nearly below the horizon and the air was finally cooling. He'd avoided Michaela like the plague all day. She hadn't set foot outside the house, thank God, and he hadn't had the nerve to go inside. His stomach rumbled with hunger but he ignored it. He had no idea what to say when he did face her. He'd hurt her so badly this morning. When he passed her door on his way outside, he'd heard her crying. The urge to go to her, hold her, make love to her as she'd asked him to, was so strong he'd practically run out the front door. Manual labor hadn't tempered the fire burning in him. He wanted her. Wanted her as he'd never wanted any other woman he'd ever known. And damn it, he thought as he thrust the digger into the ground, he didn't just want her body. He wanted her love. Wanted to hold her not for just one night, but forever. What stopped him was that she didn't have a clue what love was. He was sure she didn't even know why she was feeling the things she was feeling. From the expression on her face, the heat simmering in her beautiful green eyes, she was experiencing plain old lust. Throwing the digger on the ground, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and swiped his sweaty forehead, cheeks and arms. His T-shirt was stuck to his back with sweat. He'd cleaned the entire barn, rode the north fence line, and dug two-dozen postholes so he could expand his paddock for the horses he hoped he'd soon be boarding. With the ranchers he'd spoken to at Jess's party, within two weeks, he was going to have at least three more horses to break. "If Michaela doesn't tell me they don't want to be ridden," he muttered as he stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. "Ty." Ty whipped around at Michaela's soft voice. "What?" She winced. "Supper is ready," she said in little more than a whisper. She was wearing one of his work shirts. It was too big on her, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the ends tied in a knot at her waist. It looked sexy as hell. "You haven't eaten all day."

"Thank you." He picked up the digger and headed for the barn. His stomach grumbled at him, feeling as if it were eating a hole through itself. By the time he reached the house, the smell of beef stew and fresh baked bread wafted to him, making his mouth water. He hurried to the bathroom for a shower, locking the door behind him. ****

Michaela set the table just like the picture in the cookbook. She'd found a white candle in one of the kitchen drawers and put it in a small glass. She'd picked a few sprigs of the sweet smelling clover from behind the house and put that in another small glass—she couldn't find any vases in the house. The napkins were folded to look like a bird, and the silverware was lined up just right. She'd made a pot of beef stew and a loaf of heavy flat bread—Ty didn't have any yeast, so she had to make a recipe without it. The prettiest bowl Ty had held the stew in the center of the table. The bread was sliced, and a tall glass of milk sat beside his plate. Now she waited for him, her stomach twisted in a hard knot, as he took his evening shower before dinner. She didn't know what to say to him. She'd apologized this morning, and saying it again would seem foolish. He hadn't come in the house all day, which she assumed meant he hadn't wanted to see her. It was impossible for her to understand how badly she'd misinterpreted him. She'd been so sure he truly had love feelings for her. "It smells great," he said as he slid into the seat opposite her, his freshly showered scent of soap and shaving cream made her ache inside. "I haven't had stew in ages." Her lips trembled when she tried to smile, so she gave up and just nodded, unable to raise her gaze to his. She watched him scoop out meat, vegetables, and the thick sauce, then he picked up a fat slice of bread and slathered it with butter. He dipped the bread into the stew sauce and took a huge bite. "Mmmm. This is so good," he said around the bite. "Aren't you going to eat?" "I…um…" She picked up a slice of the bread and put a bit of butter on it, then set it on her plate when her stomach twisted in on itself. "I'm not very hungry." Ty threw his bread down on his plate and swiped the napkin off the table, not even noticing that she'd folded it special for him. Tears gathered in her eyes. That had been happening all day. At the least thought, she wanted to start crying again. "I can't do this." He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. She glanced at his face. She thought he'd still look angry, instead he looked sad again. She didn't understand him. When she tried to pull her hand from his, he held her tight. She jerked her hand away and stood up. "Can't do

what? I don't know what…" She bit her lip. "You want me to go away, don't you?" She picked up her napkin bird and held it toward him. "I thought this was enough to say I'm sorry. I told you this morning I was sorry. I just—" Dropping the napkin on her plate and struggled not to cry. She sucked in a deep breath. "I don't understand anything. My books don't tell me how to deal with mortal emotions. Not when the man doesn't do what he's supposed to." "Mortal?" He came out of the chair and stepped toward her. Holding her hands up, she backed away, hoping he wouldn't touch her. Right now, if he touched her, she was sure she'd burst into tears. He stopped. "What do you mean, 'mortal'?" Oh no, oh no, oh no. Now she'd done it! "Goodnight, Ty Brock," she said hurriedly and rushed from the room, into her bedroom, and closed the door. "Gabriel," she whispered fiercely, looking up toward the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do?" ****

Ty shook his head and sat back down at the table. What the hell was she talking about? Mortal. She thought she wasn't mortal? What the hell kind of life had she lived? Who'd messed with her head? He set into his stew with gusto, needing the sustenance after too many hours without food. Halfway through his second helping the phone rang. He leaned back in his chair and grabbed the phone off the wall. "Brock," he said around a bite of the remarkable bread Michaela had baked. For him. Hoping it was enough to say she was sorry. God, he was such an ass. "Ty. It's Ben. This is the second meeting in a row you've missed." "Ah, shit." He swiped the napkin over his mouth. Benny was his GA sponsor, and Ty hadn't even thought about meeting night. "Benny, things have been…" "What's going on? You've been doing so well. Today was supposed to be your one-year chip. Did you slip up?" "No! No, nothing like that. Truth is, I've been so busy around here I didn't even think of the meeting." "Well," Benny chuckled, "I suppose that's a good thing." Ty swiped his hand down his face. "A good thing," he muttered. He hadn't done a good thing since Michaela arrived on his doorstep almost two weeks ago. "What's going on with you, man? You sound upset. If it's not gambling, it's got to be a woman." Ty chuckled. "Yeah, you got that right, Benny." "Why don't you head on down here? I'll buy you a cup of coffee and we can

talk." Benny's cheery voice lightened Ty's mood a little. "Take some advice on women from an old married guy." Ty figured Michaela wasn't going to come out of her room as long as he was in the house. She needed to eat. She didn't eat enough, as far as he was concerned. When she did eat, it was mostly vegetables. He wasn't sure how healthy that was. Didn't a body need protein? "Your wife have any vegetarian cookbooks?" Ty asked without thinking. Benny's hysterical laughter came over the phone line. "Vegetarian? Oh, Lord! If you're going vegetarian, she must be really somethin'." "For Christ's sake, Benny, it's not for me." Scowling with disgust at his friend, Ty noticed the candle burning in the center of the table. A candle? And flowers. And the napkin sitting on her plate… He reached over and picked it up. Shaped like a bird. Shit, he was a bastard. "Well, no, Sally's not a vegetarian and I doubt she has any books on it either." Ty swallowed, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. He'd gone and hurt Michaela. Again. This time because he hadn't noticed what she'd done. That's what she meant by she thought it was enough to say she was sorry. "Hey, Benny, I gotta get out of this house for a while. I'll take you up on that coffee." "Great. See you at Moe's in about a half hour?" "Make it forty-five minutes. I gotta…put some stuff away." "See you then," Benny said, then disconnected the call. Ty hung up the phone and started clearing the table. How was he supposed to apologize for this? How could he make her understand that it wasn't her fault? None of this was her fault. If he hadn't kissed her that first time, she wouldn't be so confused right now. If he'd been able to keep his hands to himself… He was an idiot of the first order. He did not want her to leave. He loved having her around. Seeing things through her eyes helped him view the world differently. She took in the landscape as if it were spectacular instead of…brown and hot. He shook his head in disbelief as he put plastic wrap over the big bowl of stew and stored it in the fridge. She even found mud interesting. But how could he ask her to stay when all he did was hurt her feelings and make her cry? Bastard. Idiot. Screw up. He couldn't think of enough bad words to call himself. Selfish. That was the worst of them all. He was selfish to want to keep her close.

The table clean, Ty went to the door and whistled for Stryker. The dog came running from the side of the house, bounded up the porch steps, pushed passed Ty and went straight to Michaela's door. "Traitor," Ty mumbled to the dog. After pulling on his boots, Ty realized Michaela hadn't let Stryker into her room. He went to her door and knocked. No answer. "Hey, Michaela, Stryker wants to come in." She gave some sort of muffled reply, so he eased the door open. Stryker pushed through the opening and leapt up on the bed. In the darkened room, all Ty could see was the shape of her body on the bed, and a pillow pulled over her head. "I'm heading into Placer to meet a friend for coffee." "Okay," came her mumbled replay through the pillow. "I put the food away in the refrigerator, but I think you should eat something." "I can take care of myself, Ty Brock." "Yes, ma'am," he said softly. "Goodnight then." He backed out of the doorway and closed the door. "I'm sorry," he whispered. ****

"Greetings, Michaela." Just drifting off to sleep, Michaela sat bolt upright and blinked. "Gabriel?" The angel nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "Yes, it is I." Relief washed through her and she sagged back on the pillows. "Oh, Gabriel, what am I supposed to do now?" Stryker crawled across the bed and nudged his nose against Gabriel's leg. The angel laid his hand on the dog's head and scratched his ear. Stryker gave a groan of contentment. "We've been watching you, Michaela." Michaela's heart lurched. Had she done something wrong? He sounded so…serious. "You've accomplished your goal. Ty Brock has come to realize that he's not the misfit he believed he was. He's realized that he's accepted by the community and by his friends." She sighed with relief. "Thank you." Gabriel cocked his head to the side and met her gaze full on. "Michael has softened in his view of you. He will allow you to return Home, if you wish to do so."

"Return?" Michaela sat up again, hugging the blanket to her chest. "But I thought I was here to live out my mortal existence." "Well, yes, that was the original plan." He moved to scratching Stryker's belly when the dog rolled over. "But Raphael and I have been talking with Michael, and he realizes the punishment was too harsh for you. Electra must stay. She's become too mortal for her to return, but you have yet to…" "Yet to what?" "You have not yet eaten of the forbidden fruit." Michaela squeezed her eyes shut, more confused than ever. "Ty does not have any fruit trees." Gabriel was silent for so long, Michaela opened her eyes. His brow was puckered in a frown. She'd never seen Gabriel frown before. Then again, she'd never seen him in mortal form, either. "Think back to your earliest lessons, Michaela. Do you remember why Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden?" Michaela thought and thought. The ancient texts were required reading for all angels, a lesson in the way mortals viewed Heaven and Earth. "The tree of knowledge?" she asked, her eyes going wide. "You mean…oh, my goodness. You mean that was what the scrolls were talking about? Sex?" Gabriel nodded once, then frowned again. "Do you wish to return Home?" Michaela's heart tightened in her chest. "I don't know." She didn't want to leave Ty. She loved him. But he obviously didn't love her. Was there something she could do to make him love her? Joining him in the shower hadn't done it. Making him a pretty dinner with a candle and flowers hadn't done it. Gabriel gave Stryker one more good scratch before standing up. "Whenever you decide, Michaela, I'll be listening." He began to fade away. "Wait!" His body solidified. "What is it?" "I want to tell him the truth about me. It's the one thing he keeps asking. He wants to know where I'm from. You told us not to tell because no one would believe us, but I have to tell him. I have to be honest with him." Gabriel's dark blue eyes looked sad. "He won't believe you." He reached out and touched her cheek with cool, soft fingers. "I know you have fallen in love with this mortal, Michaela, and for that I am sorry. Raphael and I did not see foresee this." "I have to try, Gabriel. Can you understand? I like the mortal world. I like living on earth. I…I do love Ty Brock, and I'd like to have the kind of life I've read about, with children and family. Since I'm here, I want to experience it all. But Ty will never accept me unless he knows who I am, why I'm the way I am."

Gabriel gave a slight nod. "Very well, Michaela. You may tell him. I will be here when you need me." She clasped his hand between hers. She'd never touched the archangel before. In human form, he was…beautiful, his voice gentle. "Thank you." His smile was sad. "Farewell for now." And then he faded into a soft mist. ****

"Okay," Benny said from across the booth, his craggy face splitting in a huge grin. "You're telling me this woman ruined half of your appliances and your clothes. She talks to the cattle…and they seem to understand her?" "Yes." "So instead of kicking her out, you let her live with you for two weeks." He took a swig of coffee. "And in that time, she's cooked you a candlelight dinner, asked you to make love to her, and tried seducing you in the shower?" Ty nodded. It sounded so ridiculous when laid out like that. "Is she really ugly or something?" "Christ, no." Ty scrubbed his hand down his face. "She's stunning." "Then what the hell is your problem? You gone monk or something?" He laughed at his own joke. "You know what I've done." Ty had told Benny of his past escapades with women. He leaned over the table and whispered, "She's a virgin." Benny's squinty eyes widened. "You said she's over thirty!" Ty nodded. "And she's offering? I really don't get it, man. You'll never have that kind of offer on the table again." Ty sat back and lifted his mug to his lips. How could he make Benny understand? "That's just it. I'm trying to do the right thing here. She's special. She deserves to have a good life with someone better than a gambling ex-con. But selfish bastard that I am, all I can think about is why I want to keep her. I don't want her to go, but I've got to. If she stays, what kind of life is that?" "You got it bad, man." Ty frowned. "I know. I've got to let her go, but I don't want to hurt her just to get her to leave. You should see her when she cries. Tears your heart to shreds." Benny sat back in the booth and toyed with his spoon. "What?" Ty asked, hating it when Benny got that serious look on his face.

"You want my opinion?" "Shit, Ben, why the hell do you think I'm here?" Benny chuckled. "Ever been in love before, my boy?" Ty snorted. "Hell, no." "You sure about that?"

Chapter Eleven

Stryker's cold, wet nose nudging against Michaela's neck brought her awake. Squinting against the sun filtering in through the window blinds, she rolled over and glanced at the clock. Nine a.m. She'd been awake until nearly five when exhaustion won over her worry that Ty hadn't returned. Stryker let out a pitiful whine and jumped off the bed, did a little dance, then barked once. Michaela sat up. "Need to go outside, Stryk?" He barked again and spun in a circle, then nudged her bare leg with that cold nose. Michaela laughed and scratched his ears. "Okay, boy." She picked up her robe and slipped it on. Stryker barked again and dashed to the door. Michaela opened the bedroom door, and he made a run for the front door. Once she let him out, she took a quick trip to the bathroom, then peeked in Ty's open bedroom door. The room was empty. She wandered into the kitchen. Nothing had been moved since she'd washed the dishes sometime around midnight. Peering out the window, she saw that Ty's truck wasn't in the driveway. She nibbled on her lower lip for a moment, trying to decide what to do. She knew worrying was silly. He didn't need her to look after him, but she couldn't help it. What if something had happened to him? What would she do? What should she do? "Make coffee," she told herself, pulling away from the window and moving to the counter. He'd want some coffee when he returned. If he returned. "Don't be silly, Michaela. Of course he'll return." But where was he? She filled the coffee pot and poured it into the maker then scooped in the coffee stuff and turned it on. Now what? She sat down at the table and gazed at the wilted clover, the candle still sitting in the center of the table. Sadness swamped her and she felt the tears forming behind her eyes.

Jumping up, she grabbed the candle and flung it back into the drawer where she'd found it. The flowers went into the garbage under the sink. She was not going to be some weepy little woman like on television. Nope, she needed to be like the women in the romance manuals. They were strong. They didn't start crying just because the men they loved didn't appreciate a nice dinner. She'd get dressed, check on the horses to make sure they had enough food and water, and then she'd go into Unegi and talk to Electra, get some more advice from her about dealing with Ty Brock. She slumped into the chair. How was she going to get to Unegi? She couldn't drive. Even though Ty had showed her the basics, she feared trying to do it by herself. Besides, Ty had the truck. Didn't Trent Godfrey say to call if she needed something? Going into her bedroom, she found the little paper card he'd given her that first day. Somehow, the numbers on the card must be used with the telephone thing in the kitchen she'd seen Ty use. With a triumphant smile, she headed for Ty's closet to find another shirt to wear. She hadn't felt like doing laundry last night. Just as she was buttoning the light blue shirt she'd pilfered from Ty's closet, she heard Stryker set up a barking frenzy outside. She rushed to the kitchen window and peeked out. Ty was home. She grinned with relief that he was all right. Her smile faded as she remembered her goal for this morning. She was going to sit him down and tell him all about where she was from. Her stomach instantly knotted into a tight ball. This wasn't going to be easy. How could she make a mortal believe her? Especially when Gabriel had warned her that he wouldn't? She poured a cup of coffee for Ty and set it on the table, then went to the fridge and pulled out eggs and bacon. Maybe if he was eating, he wouldn't have time to argue with her and would listen. The front door opened, and Ty's boots thumped on the wooden floors. "Michaela!" "In the kitchen," she called. He rounded the corner, his arms piled with paper bags. "Hi baby." He smiled at her. Not just any smile, a big, face-splitting grin. And his eyes seemed to sparkle. "Hi," she said, uneasily. What had happened to him? After the way he'd left last night, she expected angry Ty, or hurt Ty. Not happy Ty. He dumped the bunch of bags on the table, almost upsetting the coffee cup she'd set there. "I got you some things." He turned toward her, took the one big step separating them, cupped her face between his hands, and kissed her. Her breath stopped. His lips were so very warm and moist, his tongue

swept into her mouth and she had to grab on to his arms to steady herself. Her heart thudded, as it always did when he kissed her like this. Tingles raced down her arms, her breasts began to ache. "Damn, you taste good," he muttered against her lips, then captured her mouth in another deep, hard kiss. When he broke the kiss, he grinned at her again, his cinnamon gaze moving over her face as if he were memorizing her. "And you're so beautiful. So beautiful," he whispered. "Ty, I need to tell—" "Hold that thought." He let go of her so fast she had to grab hold of the edge of the counter to keep from falling over. "I want you to see what I got you." He went to the bags and started pulling things from them. "First, I got you some vegetarian cookbooks." He turned toward her and handed her a stack of big, colorful, hard covered books. "They're international. I don't know what you really like, so I got you regular, Mexican, Italian, I think there's even a German one in there. I hate how you only eat vegetables. That can't be healthy. Beans." He turned to the bags and pulled out some cans. "Beans are a protein, and I think you should eat more. Protein, I mean." Michaela could only stare. He was talking so fast, not really making any sense. As he pulled more things from the bags, his words seem to get even faster. She began to wonder if something bad had happened to him. Should she call Trent Godfrey now and ask him to come over and check on Ty? He held out another stack of books to her. She had to put the cookbooks on the counter before taking the others. They were more romance manuals. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Was he trying to tell her she needed to read more because she was doing it all wrong? "I don't know what kind you like," he was saying as he turned back to the bags, "so I got you one of everything. Well, one of everything on those racks by the counter at the store. I hope they're all right. You could probably exchange them for others if they're not what you want to read. Here they are." In his hands he held a variety of brightly wrapped…something. Blue and orange and red paper with words she couldn't read because his hands were in the way. "Chocolate," he announced. "I know how much you love it, and I should have thought of it before. Again, I didn't know which ones you'd like, so I kind of got you all of them." He dumped them in a smaller sack and set the bag on top of the books she still held. "There's clothes too. I got you clothes. I hope they fit. I'm such an idiot. I should have taken you shopping sooner. See." He pulled folded clothing from another bag. "Pink and blue, red and purple. I don't know much about women's clothing, but I think all these bright colors will look stunning on you." He turned to her then and kissed her quickly. "Be right back." Then he disappeared out the door. Michaela let out a slow breath and set the romance manuals on the counter. She reached into the sack of chocolate and pulled out a flat package wrapped in blue. Turning it over in her hands a few times, she

decided to open it. She did like chocolate. She broke off a piece of the dark brown bar and slipped it into her mouth. "Ohh, my goodness," she whispered as it melted on her tongue. So good. Now, she needed to understand what was happening with Ty. Why was he giving her all these things? She understood the cookbooks. Kind of. Maybe he didn't really like what she'd cooked for him the past few days. He wanted something different. And the romance manuals, well, that was obvious. He wasn't happy with the attempts she'd made to show him she loved him. But the clothes? She shook her head. She'd asked him to take her shopping with the money in her bag. She went to the table and peeked into the other bags. Lots of clothing. Ty burst through the doorway. "Here." He grinned and held out a bunch of red flowers. Roses, she thought they were called. "I'm so sorry about last night. And…and for everything I've done to make you sad. I'm a stupid man. I should have paid more attention when I came in. I didn't realize… I was just so damn hungry and the food smelled so good, I didn't notice the flowers and the candle and the fancy napkins." He did notice! She smiled at him and took the flowers from his hand. A lovely sweet scent wafted to her nose and she stuck her face against them and inhaled. "Thank you," she whispered. "They're nice." "Nice," he said, his tone dropping. She glanced up at him. Some of the sparkle had left his eyes. "Very nice," she added. "Thank you." She didn't know what else to say. They were nice. "I made some coffee. Why don't you sit down and I'll make you breakfast." He sat down in his normal chair. "No more coffee. My nerves are wiggling all over the place. I drank coffee all night waiting for the stores to open." He grabbed her hand and pulled her between his knees. "I spent all night thinking about you. About us. I've been such a blasted fool, Michaela. I hope you can forgive me." He pulled her down to sit on his lap. "I talked to my friend, Benny. He's…" Ty sighed. "I have some problems I'm still working on. I have an addiction to gambling and Benny's my sponsor. He helps me out when I get an urge to gamble." Michaela had no idea what gambling was, or what a sponsor was, but she understood that he felt whatever he was telling her was very important. His arms slid around her and pulled her snug against him. "I'm telling you this because you need to know what you're getting yourself into. I'm not a good man. I've done terrible, terrible things—" "No, Ty." "—in my life. I've hurt so many people. And I realized I was hurting you, too. I wanted you to leave so I couldn't hurt you anymore, but I don't want you to leave because I…I…" He puffed out a harsh breath. "I think I need you."

Michaela's heart went all soft. Kind of like it had when she held baby Crystal…but different. He hadn't said it like he had before, like the kind of need that came from sexual attraction. He said it softly, like he really wanted her, maybe even for the rest of her mortal life. "Ty, I have something to tell you." She smiled as she met his eyes. They held such warmth today, not the cold anger she'd seen yesterday. Surely now he'd understand and accept the truth. Now that he didn't want her to leave. He gave her a short nod, then kissed her softly. "Tell me, sweetheart. Say the words. I need to hear them." "I was an angel." He kissed her again. "God, don't I know it." Another tender kiss. "You put up with so much shit from me." Another kiss, longer, even more gentle. "My angel. Come to save me from myself. To change my life in so many ways." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "I knew you'd understand!" "What?" "You understand that I was an angel." She sat back and smiled at him. "I did things I wasn't supposed to do, too. I got sent down here to Earth as punishment, but it hasn't been punishment. It's been wonderful because I met you." His arms went slack around her. The happy smile slowly left his mouth. His eyes—oh no, oh no, oh no—his eyes weren't sparkling any longer. ****

The agony of betrayal wrenched Ty's insides. How could she do this to him? "What the hell are you talking about, Michaela?" She scooted off his lap and stood up. Twisting the tails of her shirt—no, his shirt—between her fingers she glanced at the table, the floor, then back at him. "You said…" She moved around the table and sat down, as if her legs wouldn't hold her up. "You said you believed that I was an angel." Ty licked his lips. His body hummed from way too much caffeine. He wasn't thinking straight. He'd come home to tell Michaela he'd been an idiot and had overlooked the fact that he was falling in love with her and just maybe he'd been wrong and maybe she loved him too. He'd talked this over with Benny until the early hours of the morning. Then he'd driven into Tucson and sat in another all-night diner waiting for the stores to open. When he'd thought for sure she'd tell him she loved him, she goes and lays this on him. He rubbed his eyes. "Michaela. Where did you live before you came to Unegi? And don't try to tell me Iceland, I don't believe that." "In Heaven."

"Fuck." He came to his feet and paced the kitchen. "You're impossible, you know that?" Angels. Angels, for crying out loud! "Why are you doing this? I thought—" He flung his hands in the air. "It doesn't matter what I thought. But this is downright stupid. How long did it take you to concoct this story?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at her. "If this is some sick joke, you better come clean right now." "Joke?" She looked up at him with innocent wide eyes. Innocent my ass! "Yes. Joke." He stormed out of the kitchen and into her room, grabbed that damned white book out of her bag and brought it to her. "Joke. Look it up, sweetheart." Michaela took her book and began flipping through it. Damn she was good. She played it all real swell, didn't she? He grabbed the book from her hands. "What is this? What language is this?" Michaela's voice was soft, her eyes cast to the floor when she answered. "I told you before. It's called the Greater Language." "Who taught you to understand it? You told me you could read and write all languages. That's impossible. There's hundreds of languages, possibly thousands." "It's part of the training," she whispered, her head hanging. "What training? The CIA? FBI? Hell, are you some kind of spy in hiding? My God!" He slammed his hands down on the table and stuck his face in hers. " Where are you from?" "Heaven," she repeated. "When we get our certificates, we work with mortals. I haven't—had not received mine yet. Electra did something bad and I was with her. Michael sent us here as punishment. Gabriel…" She took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she raised her head and met his eyes. "Gabriel said you wouldn't believe me. I thought you would." Ty pushed away from the table and leaned against the counter. His breathing too rapid, his heart was about to pump its way right out of his chest. A raging headache had set up between his eyes. "So we're back to this Gabriel person, are we? Give me his phone number. Address. Something. I want to talk to him. Now." He folded his arms over his chest. "Archangel Gabriel. There are no telephones in Heaven." She looked up toward the ceiling. "He's watching, though. He said he would." She lowered her gaze and met his. "But there's nothing I can say to make you believe me, is there?" Tears welled in her eyes, her lower lip trembled. Holy shit, she really expected him to believe this manure. "No. I'm not going to believe you're some angel from Heaven. I think you need some serious psychological help." He headed for the doorway. "I'm exhausted. When I get up, I'm going to call someone who might be able to help you. Or at least point you in the right direction."

Shaking his head, he went down the hall to his room. An angel. He stripped down to his shorts and collapsed on the bed. An angel for God's sake. ****

Michaela watched Ty's back as he left the kitchen. He thought she needed psychological help. She wasn't crazy, she thought. She wasn't. But he'd never believe that. It was time to go. Go Home. Her chest felt empty. Like her heart, her very soul was missing. Perhaps it was. Maybe she wasn't truly mortal. Never would be. There must be something missing inside her that other mortal women had. All she wanted was to feel Ty's love. She thought she'd glimpsed it when he'd come in and kissed her, his eyes so bright and happy. But then she'd opened her mouth, told him the truth, and it was gone. Michaela went into her bedroom and gathered her few belongings. Her bag, the papers inside, and Trent Godfrey's paper. She straightened the covers on the bed, hung the bathrobe up in the bathroom where it had been when she arrived, and peeked into Ty's room. He lay on his stomach, softly snoring. Fighting the urge to go to him, lie down with him, beg him to hold her in his arms just one last time, she turned away and went back to the kitchen. She put her white book in her black bag and set it on the counter next to the cookbooks and romance manuals he'd given her that morning. She let out a shaky breath and swore she wouldn't shed one more tear. Not one. Not ever. Angels didn't cry. And in a little while she'd be back in Heaven, right where she belonged. She picked up the phone and stared at the numbers on the paper, then started pushing the numbers on the phone, hoping she was doing it right. There were strange sounds, then different sounds. She waited. "Unegi Sheriff's Department, Godfrey speaking." "Trent Godfrey?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am. That you, Miss Michaela?" "Yes. This is Michaela. You said I should call you if I ever need anything." He chuckled. "Here to serve. What can I do for you?" "I am asking for a ride into Unegi. I need to see Electra." "Of course," he said. "Not a problem. But why can't Ty drive you?" "He's sleeping." She remembered that the horses hadn't been checked this morning. She'd do that before Trent Godfrey arrived.

"Sleeping? Is he sick?" "Sick? No, I don't think so. He stayed out all night." "Sonofabitch. He wasn't gambling was he?" Michaela frowned. That word again; gambling. "I don't believe so, Trent Godfrey. He said he was drinking coffee." There was a long pause of silence before he spoke again. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Are you sure you're all right?" "Yes. I am all right." "Okay. See you in a bit." There was a clicking sound, then nothing. Michaela replaced the phone on the wall hanger and picked up her bag. She took one of the brightly wrapped chocolates out of the paper sack Ty had given her and slipped it into her bag. She couldn't take it with her to Heaven—angels didn't eat— but she could enjoy it before she left. She headed for the front door, but at the last moment went back into the kitchen, dug a piece of paper and a pencil from the drawer under the phone. With tears blurring her vision, she wrote Ty a short note. She hung it on the refrigerator with a magnet, then headed to the barn to check on the horses. ****

"Are you sure everything is all right with you?" Trent Godfrey asked as he pulled the automobile to a stop in front of the Unegi Health and Wellness Clinic. She nodded. "Thank you for the ride, Trent Godfrey. It was very nice of you to come get me." "You can call me Trent." She nodded. This was the last time she was going to see him. She wouldn't need to call him anything after today. "Michaela." He turned slightly in his seat to look at her. "I hate to ask this, but did Ty hurt you in any way?" "No." Only her heart. But that wasn't really Ty's fault. He couldn't help who he was, how his mind worked. "Are you going to be needing a ride back to his place later?" She shook her head. "No. Thank you for offering, but I won't be going back there." "Shit." She frowned. She never understood why the men seemed to say 'shit' when they looked upset.

"He was out with another woman last night, wasn't he?" "I don't believe so." "Then what happened? If he's not gambling or cheating on you… I'm sorry, I know it's none of my business, I just thought that you two were so perfect for one another. You'd seemed so happy together at Jess's party." Michaela laid her hand on Trent's arm and gave it a little squeeze. "He did nothing wrong. I am the one who… I made a mistake. It's time for me to go." She opened the car door before Trent could get out. "Thank you again for bringing me to Unegi." She shut the automobile door and went into the cool interior of the clinic. "Michaela!" Electra screeched from behind the tall desk across the lobby. "I'm so happy to see you." She rounded the desk and came forward, wrapped her arms around Michaela in a hard hug. Michaela stepped away from her and frowned. She didn't enjoy hugs from anyone except Ty. Not even Electra. "I have to talk to you Electra. I'm going Home." Electra's eyes widened. Her hair was blue today, with parts of it pink. And it sparkled again. "What do you mean? Home, Home?" Electra looked upward. "Home?" Michaela nodded. "Gabriel said I could go back. I just wanted to come and tell you I was leaving." "No." Electra grabbed her by the arm and hauled her through a door, down a short hallway and into a small room with a strange looking bed and lots of shiny silver stuff. "You can't go." "I have to. I can't stay here. I…I told Ty the truth, and he wouldn't believe me. He thinks I've got a mental defect." Electra shook her head, her blue hair waving around her shoulders. "You don't have a mental defect. What possessed you to tell him the truth? You know we weren't supposed to." "Gabriel said I could. I thought…" She sighed. "I thought he'd love me if I was honest with him." "He loves you already." It was Michaela's turn to shake her head. "No. He doesn't. I did everything I was supposed to from the romance manuals. Nothing worked." Electra sputtered. "Romance manuals? Oh, no. Michaela, those weren't manuals, they were stories. It's called fiction. Made up. Some woman made the stories up. It's not real." Confused, Michaela leaned against the bed, clutching her bag. "No. You said it would instruct me on how to turn a man on. I did everything that I

was supposed to. It didn't work. So when Gabe said I could tell him, I thought that's what I should do because he's always asking for the truth about where I'm from." Electra's shoulders slumped. "You still can't leave. Come live with me. You can share my apartment." When Michaela just shook her head, Electra pleaded. "Please?" "I can't. I don't want to ever see Ty Brock again. It hurts too much." She clutched her hand over her heart. "I want to go Home where I won't have these feelings anymore." "Okay," Electra said softly. "Okay. I don't want you to hurt." Michaela nodded and followed her out of the room. When they got to the front door, Michaela hugged her. This time she clung to her just a little bit. She'd never feel the contact of a mortal again. Tears rushed to her eyes. "I have to go now." She sniffled and wiped her watering eyes. Forcing a smile she said, "Try to stay out of too much trouble." With that, she pushed the door open and stood on the hot, dusty sidewalk, taking one last look at the little town of Unegi. "All right, Gabriel. I'm ready to come Home."

Chapter Twelve

The clock read four in the afternoon when Ty finally rolled out of bed. Still groggy and lethargic, he stumbled into the bathroom and splashed icy cold water on his face. He needed a shave. "The hell with it," he muttered as he went back into his room and pulled on jeans and a clean shirt. First things first. He needed to get out to the barn and check on the horses. Then he was going to set up an appointment with Benny's wife, a therapist in a women's clinic, to talk to Michaela. He shook his head as he searched for a pair of socks. No way in hell was he going to confess to falling in love with her if she was delusional. If she wasn't delusional, she had even bigger problems than he was ready to tackle. He didn't know what he'd do if she was a compulsive liar. After pulling on his boots, he went to find Michaela. She wasn't in her room. The kitchen looked like a dry goods store exploded in it. Still no Michaela. He opened the front door. Stryker was lying there across the top step looking decidedly…sad. "Hell," Ty muttered as he headed for the barn after stepping over the dog, who didn't move. Now he was thinking his dog was depressed. Too much psychobabble between him and Benny last night. Michaela wasn't in the barn, but the horses had fresh water and grain. He frowned. Where the hell was she hiding? "Stryk!" he called as he stepped back into the hot afternoon sunshine.

Stryker didn't move anything but his eyes. He glanced at Ty, then went back to staring down the road. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." He jogged back to the house. "She left, didn't she?" he asked the dog, who of course didn't answer, just laid there looking dejected. He checked her bedroom again. Her black bag was gone. The bed was made. He went into the kitchen. He couldn't see that anything had been moved since that morning, though he'd been a bit out of it, so he couldn't be sure. The white book wasn't on the table. As he turned to leave, a piece of paper fluttered off the fridge to the floor. He picked it up. She'd obviously left it for him but it was unintelligible, written in whatever language the stuff in that book she always read was written in. He tossed the note on the table and headed out the door. He had to find her. ****

"Where is she?" Ty demanded as he threw open the door to the clinic and stormed up to the desk where Electra sat. Electra glanced up from some papers, her eyes wide. "Who?" "Who. Michaela, that's who. I know she'd come see you, and since she wasn't on the road from my place to here, she's already been here." Electra visibly swallowed. "She's gone." "Gone where?" "Home." Ty ground his teeth. "Where…is…home?" Electra didn't answer, just stared at him. "So help me, if you don't start talking—" "What's going on, Ty?" Stephen asked as he came from the back of the clinic. "Have you seen Michaela today?" Stephen shook his head. "No. But Electra said she was here earlier." "I knew it. So where is she?" "She went home." Electra shuffled some papers and stood up. Ty's blood pressure skyrocketed, his heart thudded in his ears. "Give me a phone number, an address, something to go on." Electra shook her head. "You know where she is?" Stephen asked Electra. Electra nodded.

"Why won't you tell Ty?" "He knows where she is." "For the love of— I wouldn't be standing here right now if I knew where she was! So for the last time, where the hell is she?" Stephen put a protective arm around Electra. "I think you need to calm down, Ty." Calm down. Calm down? Michaela thought she was some ethereal being. How could he be expected to calm down? Didn't they have a clue how much trouble she could get herself in if someone wasn't looking out for her? "She tried telling you," Electra said softly. "She said you didn't believe her. That's why she left. She said it hurt too much." Ty's gut clenched. No. No damn way. "Do you think…are you living in the same little dream world she is?" "That's about enough out of you." Stephen released Electra and rounded the desk toward him. "You've been drinking, haven't you?" "No I haven't been drinking. Has Electra told you what—" "Ty," Electra said, laying a restraining hand on Stephen's arm before he could physically remove Ty from the clinic. "Listen to me. She's gone. She won't be returning. It would be best for you to forget her." Stephen turned surprised eyes on Electra. "What are you talking about? Where did she go?" "She went home." "Back to Iceland?" Stephen asked. Ty growled. Electra held his gaze, ignoring Stephen. "You know the truth, Ty. It is up to you to choose to believe it or not." "For crying out loud." Ty spun on his heel and slammed through the door. Across the street Trent was locking the door to the sheriff's office. "Trent! Hold up!" He jogged across the road. "Have you seen Michaela today?" Trent, standing by the police cruiser, gave him one brisk nod. "Do you know where she is?" Trent shook his head. "She called me this morning about ten. Asked me to come out to your place and pick her up. I brought her to the clinic and haven't seen her since." Ty's legs nearly buckled. He leaned against the cruiser. "Oh, God." She really was gone. "You wanna tell me what happened out there?" Ty shook his head. "I don't have any idea. She started telling me these

things, crazy things. I'd been up all night, stoked on caffeine. I said some things…" He rubbed his hand over his face. "I went to bed. When I got up she was gone. Electra said she went home." "Back to Iceland?" Ty glowered at Trent. "She's not from Iceland." "Where's she from?" "Hell if I know." ****

Forget her. The words echoed in his head all the way home. Forget her. Forget her. Like hell. She was the only woman he'd ever loved. Ever wanted to love. She was sweet and strange, thoroughly intriguing. Why had she come up with this ludicrous story of being an angel? Had he treated her so badly? Yes. He'd treated her like crap. At every turn he'd pushed her away. Even when he couldn't keep his hands off her, he'd turned around and shoved her out of his heart. Or at least he'd tried as hard as he could to do just that. But it hadn't worked. She'd burrowed in and wouldn't move. Right there, he thought as he rubbed the aching spot on his chest. Right in his heart. Ty pulled up outside his house and sat there for a few minutes staring at the old, semi-dilapidated building. It still needed a lot of work. He'd spent the last year, in the spare time he had when not chasing cattle or breaking horses, fixing the inside. The outside still looked like a run-down shack. Michaela had never complained about it, though. Not one word about the fact that the refrigerator was close to forty years old, or that the stove only had one working burner. He clamped his teeth together and shoved open the truck door. The hell with it, he decided. She was gone. She wasn't coming back. Forget her. Christ, he'd try. ****

Michaela stood in the library staring up at the walls of books. Her favorite place to be. A place of knowledge. It held no appeal to her now. "Hello, Michaela." She turned and nodded at Jacob, one of the many angels she took lessons with. "Hello." "Have you seen the new tome about mortal genetic engineering?" Michaela shook her head.

Jacob handed her a thick text. "It's very interesting. They are beginning to believe they can scientifically reproduce." He shook his head. "They are such silly creatures." Michaela looked down at the book. Mortal science had always fascinated her, how they thought they could pinpoint the origins of the mysteries of life. She didn't care anymore. She handed the book back to Jacob. "Thank you, but I'm not in the mood to read right now." "Mood?" Jacob asked. She shrugged. She couldn't explain. She'd been gone from Heaven for two full mortal weeks, and she'd adopted the mortal way of speech. But in Heaven, her absence hadn't even been felt. Time was irrelevant. Nonexistent. She didn't even know how long, in earth time, she'd been back. All she knew is that if she were mortal, she'd call herself miserable. "Michaela." She turned to see Gabriel gliding toward her. "Come with me, child," he said as he walked past her and faded through the stacks. Michaela nodded a farewell to Jacob and followed Gabriel. They were whisked into a room she'd never seen before. There were no seats or tables, just a gold stand with a large crystal orb hovering over it. "Things have not gone well on earth since you left. Look." He waved his hand over the crystal. She stepped up, peering into it. She saw Ty's ranch. His house, the barn, the horses. Even Stryker sitting in the shade under the one lone tree in the backyard. Ty leaned against the side of the barn, his arms folded over his chest, staring out over the land and cattle he so loved. He looked tired. The lines bracketing his mouth were deeper, his eyes troubled. "Tell me what you see," Gabriel said in his soft, even voice. "He works too hard." Gabriel sighed. "He's sad." Reluctantly, Michaela turned her gaze from her beloved Ty to Gabriel. "I tried." Gabriel shook his head. "He misses you, Michaela." "I don't understand." "It's been two months since you left. Everything has changed. He's secluding himself from his friends again. He attended Electra and Stephen's wedding, but even then, he left early. He won't answer Trent's calls, avoids him whenever possible. He's worse off now than he was before you went there." She desperately wanted to cry. To feel. This existence was not an existence at all. She'd even welcome the ache she felt when she left Unegi.

"What do you want me to do?" "That, Michaela, must be your decision." "I do not understand, Gabriel. Please, tell me what to do to make him better. He shouldn't be hurting because of me. That's wrong. I was supposed to help him, not make him worse." "Watch," Gabriel whispered, motioning toward the sphere. "Then tell me what you decide." ****

Ty pushed away from the wall of the barn. Fall was coming, so the calendar said, but you couldn't tell by the heat consuming the entire state. After putting the tack away he'd used on Killer, one of the five horses he'd been hired to train, he headed toward the house. The sun was starting to set. He went in, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, a scrap of paper off the table, and went back to his chair on the porch. Stryker ambled around the corner of the house, slowly climbed the steps, and flopped down on his feet. The dog hadn't been the same since Michaela left. He didn't even bark at strangers anymore. Stupid dog. Ty twisted the cap off the beer and took a deep swig. He needed to call Benny. He was going to miss another meeting tonight, but he just didn't have it in him to drive into Placer. He'd do it later. Stryker whined pitiably and nudged Ty's leg with his nose. "Yeah, I know," he murmured as he leaned over and scratched the dog's ear. "I miss her too." Ty unfolded the paper he held and examined the lines, squiggles and markings he'd memorized over the past couple of months. He still didn't know what it meant, but it was the only tangible thing he had left of Michaela. If it wasn't for the paper, she might not even have existed. He'd tried in vain to get Electra to tell him where she was, but the woman was stubborn, answering him with the same words every time. "You know where she is. It's your choice to believe it or not." Stephen had married Electra two weeks ago. When Ty had questioned him about his knowledge of Michaela's whereabouts, he'd been as cryptic as his wife, saying only, "Listen to your heart." "Okay," Ty said, looking up toward the evening sky. A few stars were bright enough to be seen even though dusk wasn't complete. "Okay." He pinpointed one star, remembering his childhood and some silly rhyme to wish on a star. "I'm listening to my heart." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Baby, if you're somewhere you can hear me…" He swallowed, feeling infinitely stupid. "If you can hear me…" He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the back of the chair. "I love you, Michaela. Whoever, wherever, you are."

"I love you too, Ty Brock." His head whipped up so fast, it took a few seconds to realize it had grown dark. "Michaela?" Stryker let out a shrill whine, leapt off the porch, and pounced on the woman standing at the base of the porch steps. Michaela's laughter rang through the quiet evening. Dear God, she was here. She was back. She was… He stood up. "You're real," he said on a breath. Michaela pushed Stryker off and got to her feet. God, she was gorgeous. Her hair…it was long again. Her clothes…they were the same clothes she'd arrived in the first time. She even carried the little black bag. He took a deep breath and stepped back, nearly tripping over the chair before he landed on it hard. He was dreaming. She couldn't be here. Couldn't be real. Not looking exactly as she had several months ago. Stryker barked and ran circles around her, yipping like an excited puppy. "I am real." He shook his head. He was drunk. He had to be. Somehow. Shit, he'd only had one beer tonight. He hadn't been drunk in over three years. What was making him hallucinate? She slowly came up the three steps, moving closer to him. She smiled. God, he'd missed that smile. Her bright green eyes sparkled. Her hair was so pretty he wouldn't let her chop it off again. He shook his head. What was he thinking? She wasn't really here. He closed his eyes and willed the apparition away. "Gabriel said you missed me," she said, her voice the softest of whispers. His gut clenched. His heart was about to jump out of his chest. Squeezing his eyes closed even harder still, he shook his head in denial. "I heard you. You said you loved me." She's not real. You're dreaming. You're sitting here in your chair, asleep, passed out from sheer exhaustion. When you open your eyes she'll be gone. She was still there. Just inches from him. Her smile so sweet, so tender. He ached for her. Ached to hold her, to kiss her, to make her his for all time. "I love you too, Ty Brock." "Oh, God," he groaned. She giggled. "Yes, He had a little bit to do with this." She knelt down in front of him and slowly leaned forward, placing her hands on his thighs. "I'm real, Ty. I'm real, and I'm here because you want me to be." At her touch, his world tilted a bit. His breath sucked in, but the greatest

sense of calm settled over him. His heart slowed, the knot in his stomach loosened. "You're here." "I'm here," she whispered, a soft, Mona Lisa smile curving her beautiful, lush lips. The scent of hot apple pie came to him on the warm evening breeze. He searched her eyes. And that's when he realized he'd never met a more honest, loving, caring person in his life. And she loved him. "Oh, sweetheart." He reached for her at the same time she launched herself into his arms. Their lips came together in a hot, deep, wet melding of lips that sent his blood pounding. "Baby. Baby, I missed you," he said between kisses. Her hands gripped his hair, her tongue delved into his mouth. Lust shot through him hard and heavy. "I need you." Standing up with her in his arms, his mouth still fastened on hers, he pushed through the front door, not stopping until they were sprawled on his bed. Her hands were eager, ripping at clothing, running over his body as if she couldn't touch enough of him. In seconds he had her shirt open, her pants off, and her full, sweet breast in his mouth. She cried out his name. His erection throbbed in his tight jeans. She clasped his head between her hands, her fingers pulling at his hair. "Ty!" she screamed. "Yes, baby." If this was a dream— "Please!" He tore open the buttons of his jeans, shoved his underwear out of the way. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he slid into the most perfect warmth he'd ever experienced. She cried out and he stilled. Virgin! "Baby, baby, I'm—" She grabbed his butt and raised her hips, her mouth seeking his. "More," she demanded, his bottom lip caught between her teeth. His chuckle turned into a moan as he sank deep inside her. She thrust her hot little tongue into his mouth and moaned. He rocked against her hips. She met his every motion with her own. Her fingernails scratched his back, his sides, his butt. Faster and faster he thrust into her until he thought he'd die of the sweet torment. Her breaths grew as ragged as his, each exhale tipped with the most erotic sound he'd ever heard. Faster, harder, until her eyes opened and snared him. "I love you, Ty Brock," she moaned. Her muscles tightened around him. She cried out his name again, and then he was lost in oblivion. ****

She couldn't breathe. He'd taken every ounce of life from her. And now he

was squashing her to death. She pushed at his shoulder. "Ty," she grunted. He rolled off her, but didn't release her. His arms snaked around her back and he pulled her flush against his chest. "Sorry." He didn't sound sorry, she thought. She let out a long sigh and grinned. What they'd just done was more incredible than she could have ever imagined. "Are you really…" His voice trailed off as his fingers softly combed through her hair. "Yes. Well…not anymore." She laughed and looked up at him. "I've eaten of the forbidden fruit. I'm stuck on earth for the rest of my mortal life now." "Good." He kissed her. Gentle, yet there was fierceness behind it. A possessiveness. "Because you can't leave me again." "I came back for you, Ty." She kissed his cheek and inhaled his spicy scent. "Only for you." "We're getting married, you know that, don't you?" She giggled. "I had hoped so." "I'd like a child before I'm too old." "Just one?" He nuzzled her neck with his lips. "One to start." She laughed as his whiskers tickled her throat. "Yes. To start." "One question, baby," he said as pressed her into the bed and laid over her, this time holding himself so she could breathe. "What did the note say?" She looked into his sparkling eyes, reached up, and touched his cheek. "My Ty, my love. Keep my heart safe. It belongs to only you." "Oh, sweetheart." He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly over hers. "And mine belongs to you." He nibbled her bottom lip. "Welcome home."

THE END