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“Hey! What’s going on here?”an angry voice called over the rising wind.“You leave that horse alone!”

Gypsy Wind shied from the noise and Brig whirled around to face Rebecca’s brother striding meaningfully toward him. When Brig’s cold gray eyes clashed with Dean’s watery blue gaze, a moment’s hesitation held them apart. A shadow of fear darkened Dean’s eyes but quickly disappeared and was replaced with false bravado.

“You’re just about the last person I expected to see,” Dean announced as he climbed over the fence and reached for Gypsy Wind’s halter. She rolled her eyes and paced backward, always just a few feet out of Dean’s reach.

“This trip was a spur of the moment decision,” Brig responded. Dean managed to catch the horse and snapped on the lead rein, giving it a vicious tug.

“Plan on staying long?” Dean asked. He led the filly into the barn and instructed a groom to take care of her.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Dean shrugged as if it made no difference to him one way or the other, but his eyes remained cold. “Was Becca expecting you?” he inquired cautiously.

“No.”

“Well, you may as well come up to the house and dry off. She and Ian are in town. They should be home any time.”

“They left you in charge?” Brig asked pointedly.

Dean’s jaw hardened and he slid a furtive glance in Brig’s direction. The man had always made him uneasy. Brig Chambers was in a different league than was Dean Peters. Whereas Dean was only comfortable in faded jeans, Chambers was a man who looked at ease in jeans or a tuxedo. Even now, though he was drenched from the sudden downpour, Brig looked as if he owned the world in his tan corduroy pants, dark blue sweater, and tweed sports coat. Easy for him, Dean thought to himself, he did own the world . . . practically. Chambers Oil was worth a fortune! Dean didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice. “Every once in a while, when Ian and Becca have to do something together, they let me run the place.”

“I see,” Brig stated as if he didn’t and added silently to himself,and you pay them back by leaving Rebecca’s prized Thoroughbred unattended in the rain.

* * *

Dean wasn’t easily fooled. He could see that Brig was unhappy; it was evidenced in the dark shade of his unfriendly eyes. Dean also realized that it was a bad break having Brig find Gypsy Wind in the rain, but it couldn’t have been helped. The forecast had been for sunshine and Dean had gotten wrapped up in the 49ers game on television. He had a lot of money riding on the outcome of the game. The last thing he needed was Brig Chambers nosing around here. Dean couldn’t trust Chambers as far as he could throw him and Becca always went a little crazy whenever she was with Brig.Why the hell had Brig come to the ranch now?Dean’s throat went dry as he considered the note. Maybe Chambers had changed his mind. Maybe he wanted his loan repaid on the spot! How in the world would Becca put her hands on fifty grand?

Dean stopped at the gate near the front of the farmhouse. “You know your way around, let yourself in, make yourself comfortable.” He stood on one side of the broken gate, Brig was on the other. “The 49ers are playing on channel seven.”

Brig’s smile was polite, but it made Dean uncomfortable. There was a barely concealed trace of contempt in Brig’s eyes. “I think I’ll dry off and then check on the horse.”

Dean raised his reddish brows. “Suit yourself,” he said while pulling his jacket more tightly around him. “But take my word for it, the Gypsy will be fine. Garth knows how to handle her.” With his final remark, Dean turned toward the stables and headed back to the warm office over the tack room where the final quarter of the 49ers game and a welcome can of beer waited for him.

* * *

Brig walked into the farmhouse and smiled at the familiar sight. Some of the furniture had been replaced, other pieces rearranged, but for the most part, the interior seemed the same as it was six years ago. He didn’t bother with the lights, though the storm outside shadowed the rooms ominously. Mounting the worn steps slowly, he let his fingers slide along the polished surface of the railing. There was no hesitation in his stride when he reached the second floor; he moved directly toward Rebecca’s room. At the open door he paused.

A torrent of long-denied memories flooded his senses. He remembered vivid images of a distant past: the smell of violets faintly scenting the air, a blue silk dress slipping noiselessly to the floor, the moonlight reflecting silver light in Rebecca’s soft green eyes, and the powerful feeling of harmony he had found when he had taken her body with his. The reflection had an overpowering effect on him. He braced his shoulder against the doorjamb and plunged his fists deep into his pockets while he stared vacantly into the room. He had been a fool to let Rebecca slip away from him, a damned fool too blinded with self-righteousness to see the truth.

After letting the bittersweet memories take their toll on him, he went into the bathroom and towel-dried his hair. He tossed on his jacket and ran back to the barns, his head bent against the wind. Garth had indeed seen to the horse. Once Brig was satisfied that Gypsy Wind was comfortable, he headed back to the house.

Headlights winding up the long drive warned him that Rebecca was returning. An ancient pickup with a trailer in tow ground to a stop against the wet gravel of the parking lot and the driver killed the rumbling engine.

Rebecca emerged from the cab of the truck, wearing a smile and a radiant gleam in her eye when she recognized Brig huddling against the wind. She couldn’t hide the happiness she felt just at the sight of him.

“What are you doing in this part of the country?” she asked, linking her arm through his and leading him toward the house.

Her good mood was infectious. “Looking for you.”

She winked at him and wiped a raindrop off her nose. “You always know exactly what to say to me, don’t you?”

“Are you telling me that I haven’t lost my touch?”

“If you had, it would make my whole life a lot easier.”

“Is that right?” He took her hand in his and stuffed it into the warmth of his jacket pocket.

She hesitated just a moment as they climbed the porch stairs. “I’ve thought about the last time I saw you . . .”