a sedate mother."
"Kids as well as kittens tend to do that to mothers," she said.
"Not all mothers," he told her with wicked suggestiveness threading through his words. "No way would I describe you as sedate."
"Remember, I'm on vacation," she said defensively, secretly thrilled with his insinuation that he'd enjoyed the wild moments they'd shared. He couldn't know he was the only man who'd ever tempted her into forgetting everything but him.
"We'd all enjoy ourselves more if we could think of living as a life-long vacation."
"Fat chance. The necessity to earn a living is no vacation, even if you like what you do." She sighed. "Actually my job's okay, it's just that I hate to--" She broke off, not wanting to reveal any more of her feelings than she already had.
"Why don't you and Davis spend tomorrow night at my place?" Bram said. "There's plenty of room and I know he'll want to pick out his kitten."
Damn the man--he'd set that up so she couldn't refuse. Instead of answering, she said, "Are you really up to the trouble of shipping the kitten to him when it's old enough?"
"I keep my promises." He sounded offended.
"Well, in that case, we accept your kind offer of shelter." She deliberately brought Davis into her answer, letting Bram know she was on to his manipulative ways.
Not that she didn't want to spend the extra time with him, but she feared it would make leaving all the more difficult.
"Are you disappointed there was no Apache gold at the end of the trail?" he asked.
She thought about what she'd found instead. Not the pictographs, awesome though they were. She had discovered something, after all, she'd learned that not all men were like Neal. Bram, at least, treated love-making as the wonder it could be. He was tender and passionate and he made her feel as desirable as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.
He'd given her back her sexuality. Not that it would do her much good, since, unfortunately, she didn't want to make love with any other man except Bram. There were no other men like Bram.
Careful, girl, she warned herself, you sound like a woman in love.
A moment later, she caught her breath as a realization struck her. She was in love with him. With Bram. She made an inarticulate sound of disbelief and anger. How had she let that happen?
"What's the matter?" he asked. "You okay?"
No, she wasn't okay, she doubted if she ever would be again. "The truth hurts," she muttered.
"Been known to happen," he agreed. "Care to share this particular truth with me?"
"No!" she snapped.
She certainly had no intention of embarrassing them both by blurting out she was in love with him. He'd more or less told her his preference was for brief affairs, no strings attached. Love certainly hadn't entered his mind and, for her own peace of mind, she shouldn't have allowed it room in hers.
"You still owe me a story," he said after a long silence.
"I what?"
"Davis told a story, I told a story--it's your turn. And you don't get off the hook by saying you don't know any."
"I already told you it would have to be the three goats and the troll or nothing."
"I don't buy that. I'm willing to bet you have a storehouse of family stories. Think about it. Was the gold ring tale the only one your Grandmother Ella ever told you?"
"You wouldn't be interested in family stuff."
"Try me."
"Well, now that I think about it, there is something. My grandmother had a sister named Letty, who was older. I wasn't meant to know about this at all, it's an overheard tale. And I wasn't eavesdropping, I was a kid playing with my little cars underneath the dining room table where it was like a cave with the tablecloth hanging down all around me."
"Little cars?" he asked. "You played with cars?"
"They were left over from when my father was a boy. He gave them to me and I loved them. Anyway, the dining room was an ell off the living room where my mother and grandmother were sitting and talking. They had no idea I was under the table when my mother asked why no one ever mentioned Aunt Letty."
"At the time, I didn't even know there was a Letty in the family, so I perked up my ears and began listening. At first my grandmother didn't seem inclined to tell her but my mother persisted."
"'She may have been my own sister," Grandmother said,