Across the River of Yesterday

Two

The service at the table was provided by a slim, dark-skinned young man and was both quiet and unobtrusive. The crystal and china were exquisite, the food was a gourmet's delight. Serena was scarcely aware of any of it. She was conscious only of Gideon's gaze fixed on her with an intensity that caused the surroundings to fade.

Ross attempted the difficult task of keeping the conversational ball in the air, but received only monosyllabic replies from Gideon and Serena. When the meal was over he pushed back his chair, sighed in relief, and said, "Coffee in the study, I think. I hope you both realize I'm planning on nominating myself for a medal. I deserve it after submitting my sensitive psyche to the flak the two of you have been mentally tossing at each other."

"Flak?" Gideon raised an eyebrow. "That's a poor choice of words. I'm not feeling in the least warlike." He threw his napkin on the table and rose to his feet. "Though I admit my thoughts were definitely incendiary."

"I think it's a very fitting word," Serena said coolly. "I'm feeling extremely militant at the moment."

Gideon smiled. "Eleanor into the fray?" he asked softly. "I can hardly wait."

Serena found her gaze clinging to his as if she were mesmerized. She didn't know how many seconds passed before she was able to tear her glance away. She drew a deep breath and tried wildly to think of something to say to destroy the electricity charging the atmosphere between them. "I'm no Eleanor, and you'll wait a long time, Gideon."

"I already have." He grinned. "But at least I'm halfway home."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"That night at Concepcion's." His gaze teasingly lingered on her breasts. "It chafes my possessive instincts to know I wasn't the only one to be so privileged, but that memory has furnished me with a number of fantasies through the years."

The color flooded her cheeks as the memory of gentle hands pulling the white satin bodice up to cover her bare breast suddenly came back to her. "I forgot about that," she whispered.

His smile faded. "I think you tried to forget everything about me, didn't you? I wonder why you felt the need. We're going to have to discuss quite a few things, Serena. Do you remember the bushwhackers we talked about? I have an idea one of them got to you after you left me."

She suddenly felt unutterably weary. "Quite a few of them got to me, but I fought them off the only way I could." She smiled with an effort. "And in the end I came out on top."

"Not entirely," he said slowly. "You let them take a few things away from you. I guess I'm going to have to see what I can do about getting that booty back."

Ross suddenly coughed. "Look, I'm still in the room," he said mildly. "I just thought I'd point it out, in case I'd become an invisible man."

Serena smiled vaguely at him and turned her attention back to Gideon. "The only thing I want you to get back for me is Dane."

"In time." Gideon's eyes narrowed. "I told you what my terms are. All you have to do is to agree, and I'll put the wheels in motion. Lord knows I want to give you whatever you want. Just give me my chance to-" He suddenly broke off as the slim, white-garbed young man who had served dinner appeared at his elbow. The boy murmured something in a low tone and then disappeared as quietly as he had come.

Gideon's expression was abstracted as he turned away. "Something's come up," he said tersely. "Take care of her, Ross." Then he was striding out of the room without giving Serena another glance.

"I gather I've become visible again," Ross said. "Coffee, Serena?"

"No." Her tone was also abstracted. It shouldn't have bothered her that Gideon was constantly relegating her to second place in his scheme of things. It shouldn't, but it did. She had felt as if she had been flicked with the stinging tip of a lash when he'd walked out the door. "I thought I'd go to my room. I'm sorry I was rude, Ross." She suddenly realized she was apologizing to Gideon's partner in crime, and scowled. "Though you both deserved a hell of a lot more than rudeness. Burning at the stake would be most appropriate."

"Whew, how fierce we are," he murmured. "I can't help it if Gideon was forced to opt out of the fireworks. Spare me your wrath, Queen Eleanor."

"And that joke is getting very old." She turned away. "I want to talk to Dane tonight before I go to bed. Will you give me the number at the hotel?"

He nodded, took out a business card and scrawled a number on the back. "Just ask for the Royal Suite." He grinned. "I told you we were taking good care of him."

Serena realized that was a gross understatement when she hung up the phone in her room an hour later. Dane was not only unconcerned about having to stay in Mariba for a good deal longer. He actually sounded reluctant to leave Castellano. She supposed she should be grateful that he wasn't depressed, but she was experiencing only frustration and exasperation. She could have used a little company worrying about their situation, dammit.

She stood up and strode across the room to the closet. She would shower and go to sleep and forget all about Dane and Gideon and the tangle she had to uncomb before she could return to her calm, controlled existence. She pulled her loose gray silk robe from the hanger and started to close the door. She froze.

It couldn't be. She reached into the back of the closet and brought out the white satin nightgown she had tossed carelessly on the cane chair ten years ago. It shimmered, as pristine as if it were new.

She slowly hung the nightgown back on the rod and closed the door. The gown had brought back too many memories, not of Antonio and the horror of that night, but of Gideon and the way she had felt about him. She closed her eyes as she remembered the pain she had felt as she walked down the stairs and out of his life. Lord, she didn't want to recall the moment. Was that why he had left the blasted gown in the closet? It was a clever move and she was beginning to realize Gideon was a very clever man beneath his lazy cowboy facade. She opened her eyes, turned, and moved resolutely toward the door of the bathroom.

An hour later she had showered, had washed and blow-dried her hair, and felt a good deal more in control. She drew back the spread on the bed, plumped the pillows and then moved briskly to the window to open it wider.

Gideon was on the patio.

Serena froze. He was sitting on the rim of the mosaic-tiled fountain. He had discarded his jacket and tie and the sleeves of his ruffled dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. The moonlight touched his hair with flecks of silver and gave his face a stark grimness. He was staring straight ahead, but she didn't believe he was seeing anything but the pictures flashing through his mind. What was he thinking to make him look like that? What emotions were…

He lifted his head.

Serena inhaled sharply as she saw his expression. Sadness. Terrible sadness and an aching loneliness. No, he shouldn't feel…

She turned impulsively and ran from the room and down the stairs. She had to do something. Gideon was hurting and she had to stop the pain. She had to stop him from hurting. It wasn't until she was standing only a few feet away from him on the patio that she realized how instinctive had been her action. Then all objective thought was gone again as he looked up and saw her.

His dark eyes were glittering in the moonlight. "Hello. I'm sony I had to leave you tonight. Things just don't seem to be working out."

She took a step closer. "What's wrong, Gideon?"

"Death," he said simply. "I guess that's about the biggest wrong of all, isn't it? It's the one thing you can't fix, no matter how hard you try."

Serena felt an aching sympathy. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was Frank. I keep telling myself he was old and sick, that he'd lived a good life these last years at least. None of it does any good."

"Frank," she murmured. "I guess I assumed you'd found a home for him with someone else. Ross said you did that at times."

He shook his head. "I kept him with me wherever I went after we left Castellano. I… loved him."

Tears burned her eyes. "I think perhaps I loved him too. He helped me so much that night."

"Did you ever get a dog after you left me? I always wondered if you had."

"No. Like you, I moved around a lot. It wouldn't have been fair to a pet. I kept my friend Elizabeth's dog for a while. He reminded me a little of Frank." She took a step closer. "Were you with Frank earlier this evening too?"

He nodded. "The vet thought he was out of danger, but he had a relapse. He didn't last more than an hour after I got back to him." He swallowed. "It hurt to watch him die."

"But you stayed with him."

He looked up in surprise. "Of course. Death is lonely. I think it must help to have a friend there."

She reached out and gently touched his cheek. "Anything is better, if you have a friend there."

He went still. "Is that an invitation?"

"I'd like to be your friend," she said simply. "In a way, I think we're already friends, Gideon. I can't give you what you seem to want from me, but I can give you this. Let me help you." She stepped into his arms as naturally as if she'd never left them one night long ago. She could feel him stiffen and then slowly relax against her.

"I'd be a fool to turn down your offer, wouldn't I?" His arms tightened around her and his cheek pressed against her temple. "Lord, I'm hurting, Serena. You know, old Frank was a little like me. I guess that was why I grew to love him so damn much. We were both wanderers and had been through the mill. We both had our scars."

Serena could feel a moistness on her temple and she instinctively tightened her arms about him.

"There were times when I was lonely or things weren't going right but he was always there. He was happy and affectionate and-" His voice broke. "-and loving."

"You told me that once," Serena said huskily. "You said he had toughened up, but kept the loving."

"Yes." He was silent a moment, just holding her. Then his arms dropped away from her and he stepped back. He reached into his back pocket and drew out his handkerchief. "I didn't mean to drown you." He dabbed at her temple, dampened by his tears, and then unashamedly wiped his own eyes. "But Frank deserved tears." He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. "Thank you."

"For what?" She smiled at him. "I didn't even lend you my shirt or make you an omelet. We're still not even."

"This is no contest," Gideon said gravely. "Friendship makes no comparisons. It's just giving and taking. Thank you for giving."

"Thank you for taking. It was good to be needed. I don't think anyone has ever needed me before." She made a face. "Except Dane, and the only help he ever needs is rescue."

"No one?" Gideon asked. "Not even your husband?"

Her expression was suddenly shuttered. "No, Antonio never needed me." She stepped back. "I think it's time I went to my room. Why don't you go to bed, too?"

"Another invitation?" He held up his hand, a faint smile touching his lips. "No, I know comfort only extends so far and no further. I was joking." He wearily rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I will go to bed. One way and another, it's been a hell of a day."

"You could have eliminated one source of strain, if you hadn't practically kidnapped me," she said lightly. She was actually teasing about his treatment of her, she realized with astonishment. At some time on this patio tonight, anger and resentment had fled, and she wasn't sure she could ever summon them again to use against Gideon Brandt. She wasn't sure she even wanted to summon them. Being at peace with Gideon was filling her with a golden tranquility and warmth.

"I did what I had to do." His gaze was running over her. "I like that silvery robe. It makes you look like a moon maiden."

She laughed. "I thought moon maidens were probably made of green cheese too."

He tilted his head as if he were listening to music. "Lord, that's pretty. I've never heard you laugh before. I'm going to have to work on giving you more to laugh about." He laced his fingers through hers and started across the patio toward the front door. "Maybe I could hire a resident clown, or send for a joke book or-" He broke off. "But I'll need time to do all that." He gazed intently at her. "Am I going to get that time, Serena? Am I going to get my week?"

How could she refuse a man who would postpone initiating a plan he'd held for ten years to comfort a dying animal? A strong man who was not ashamed to show either tears or need. How was it possible to refuse Gideon Brandt?

"I'm very much afraid you are," she said huskily. "It's a mistake, but I'll give you your week. I don't know why. You've been completely autocratic and-"

"It's no mistake." A radiant smile lit his face. "I'll make sure it's the best decision you've ever made." His hand tightened around her own. "Damn, I'm glad."

She had made him happy. The knowledge sent a heady burst of exhilaration through her. He had been sad and she had given him happiness. What difference did a week make? Dane was completely happy where he was, and she had no commitments for the next few weeks. She owed Gideon far more for his past support than he had asked of her. "I'm not promising you anything more than friendship. I still think this is crazy and-"

"Hush, don't spoil it." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm lingeringly. She felt a warm tingle begin to spread from her palm into her veins and then into every part of her body. "Let me be happy."

"All right." Her voice was breathless. The night was suddenly crackling with the same electricity that had charged the dining room earlier in the evening. She could feel her heart start to pound and the temperature seemed ten degrees warmer than it had only a moment ago.

His clasp tightened around her wrist, and she knew he had felt her betraying leap of response. "For me?" he murmured. "Let's see what else I can…" His tongue gently stroked her palm, his thumb on her wrist monitoring her reaction. "You like that?"

She felt as if she had been jolted by lightning.

The lightest of intimacies, and yet she was trembling. "I think I'd better go upstairs now."

"In a minute." He moved his lips to the delicate blue veins of her wrist. His tongue moved lazily, teasingly on her flesh. "I can feel your heartbeat going crazy. You're very easy to arouse, love. I'm so lucky." He nipped her wrist with his teeth and she felt a jolt of heat flood her. "We're going to be so good together."

She hadn't expected this, she thought wildly. One moment she was only wanting to comfort, and the next she was experiencing a sensual pull stronger than any she had ever known before. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"No, don't start backpedaling. You made me a promise." He was smiling again, and warmth melted the panic starting to rise within her. "And I'm holding you to it. We'll leave for Santa Isabella tomorrow morning."

"Santa Isabella? I thought we were going to stay here."

He shook his head. "Santa Isbella is as much of a home as I've ever had. I want you to get to know it." His lips twisted. "Besides, the atmosphere in Castellano right now isn't conducive to relaxation and I want you mellow. Very mellow." He tugged at a lock of her hair. "I want to hear you laugh again." He bent quickly and placed a sun-warm kiss on her lips and then straightened. "That wasn't so bad, was it? I'll guarantee we'll get better at it," He took her hand again and they covered the remaining yards to the front door in silence.

It was only when they were going up the stairs that he spoke again. "You're barefoot. I didn't notice on the patio." He grinned. "Do you have a violent aversion to wearing shoes? Not that I object, you understand. You have very pretty feet and I like to look at them."

"I forgot about them. I saw you on the patio and-"

"You wanted to help me," he finished softly, his eyes very warm. "So you scurried to the rescue, bare feet and all."

There had been a moment on the patio when she would have walked barefoot on hot coals, if it could have taken away a portion of Gideon's pain. "As I said, I'm new at having someone need me. I reacted without thinking."

"Instinct," he said thoughtfully. "You came to me instinctively. Think about that tonight. You might learn something about yourself and about us, too, perhaps. I believe in instinct." They had reached the top of the stairs and he paused to look down at her. "Instinct made me know you belonged to me that night." He touched her cheek with a fingertip. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning, love."

She hesitated. "Will you be all right?"

He nodded, then smiled. "You could leave your door ajar in case I get ambushed. I like the idea of your being available to hold me like you did out there by the fountain."

"I don't think you'll need me. I'm not as experienced as you at shooting bushwhackers out of the saddle." She turned away. "Goodnight."

She could feel his gaze on her back as she walked quickly down the hall and opened the door to her room. A moment later she was in bed, her head awhirl with a wild confusion of thoughts. Why had she committed herself? It was crazy. She was crazy. She had been swayed like a tree in the wind by sympathy, remembrance, and the sensuality he had evoked so effortlessly. She knew he'd had no intention of arousing her to this extent. He had just been himself, Gideon, and that had been enough. Even now, lying here in an emotional turmoil she was conscious of a nagging anxiety. Was he lying in his room across the hall unhappy and lonely again? Surely he had been joking about the possibility that he might need her to help him get through this time. Still, he hadn't closed his door on her, when there had been a chance she might need him.

She lay there for many minutes staring into the darkness, trying to make a decision. Then she abandoned all reasoning as totally useless. She had half known what she was going to do from the beginning anyway. Maybe Gideon was right, and following instincts was best.

She slipped out of bed and ran across the room. She opened the door and left it ajar in unspoken welcome, a gesture of friendship and support. Then she ran back across the room, jumped into bed, and pulled up the covers. It was done, and she felt immeasurably better. She closed her eyes and was asleep a short time later.

Gideon had left his own door open and was lying in bed, waiting. It was only a chance. It was really too soon for her to offer him that kind of trust, but maybe…

Then he heard the soft click of Serena's door opening and the slight rustle of the mattress as she returned to bed.

Gideon smiled into the darkness, turned over on his side, and shut his eyes. There was still a faint smile on his lips when he, too, fell deeply asleep.

"Somehow, I didn't expect a coffee plantation," Serena said as the driver of the limousine negotiated the gravel road leading to the large stone house on the top of the hill. "Ross said your largest hotel property was here on Santa Isabella and I guess I thought you'd live near your base of operations."

"I have a penthouse suite at the hotel and I stay there most of the time." Gideon waved to a khaki- clad man in one of the fields bordering the road. The dark-skinned man waved back, a brilliant white smile lighting his face. "That's Henry Delgado, my foreman. He runs the plantation for fifty percent of the profits, leaving me to be the gentleman farmer. It suits us both." He leaned back on the blue velour seat and stretched out his legs. "I was going to sell off the land and just keep the house and a few surrounding acres, but that could have disrupted the lives of the farmers who live on the property. So Henry and I came to our agreement."

"How long have you had the plantation?"

"Two years."

Her gaze flew back to his face.

He nodded slowly. "I decided I'd better try to have a home ready for you," he said softly. "The hotel is plush and modern, but it isn't a home. The detective's report said you preferred your lakeside cottage to an apartment in New York so I thought this would do as well." His eyes twinkled. "I even made sure it had a lake on the property fed by a real waterfall. It's completely private and I've ruled it out of bounds for anyone on the plantation. I'll show it to you this afternoon, if you like."

"That would be very nice," she murmured.

He frowned. "Now you've got to stop freezing up on me when I mention things like that. I bought this house for us, and I'm not going to pretend anything else."

"I don't know what to say. I can't imagine any man doing all this on the gamble that a woman he'd scarcely met might be the woman."

"You are the woman," he said simply. "It was no gamble."

She shook her head. "You're utterly impossible, do you know that?"

He grinned. "It's been mentioned a few times."

"I can imagine."

"You'll get accustomed to me." His voice lowered to a velvet softness. "I'll give you every opportunity to further your knowledge in every way possible."

Serena felt the heat ignite in her veins like tiny licking flames and she quickly looked away from him. The sensual emphasis was clear, but not presented aggressively. There was no reason for her sudden breathlessness. Gideon managed to keep her constantly off guard. There had been no hint of sexuality in his manner either this morning at breakfast or on the short flight from

Castellano to Santa Isbella. He had been charming, humorous, considerate, and almost avuncular. Yet now he was smiling at her with a sensuality that was as frank and bold as a red flag waving in the breeze. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "I try to keep it down, but it slips out sometimes." He grimaced. "I know my wanting you makes you uneasy. I had no idea the brother-protector image I built to make you feel safe that night long ago would be reinforced every time you thought of me for the next ten years." His gaze slowly traveled over her from yellow silk blouse to white linen skirt, returning to linger on the thrust of her breasts against the silk of her blouse. He spoke very deliberately, in a tone too low for the driver to hear. "I'm still your protector, but not your brother. If I were your brother, my thoughts couldn't be more incestuous. At the moment, I'd like nothing better than to unbutton your blouse and take your breasts in my hands. I want to taste every part of your body. I want my fingers on you, around you. and in you. Every time I look at you my stomach knots and I get so aroused I'm hurting. If I weren't afraid you'd panic, I'd tell Ricardo to pull over and find a place in the bushes and do everything I've wanted to do to you for an eternity or so." He drew a harsh breath. "Do we understand each other now?"

She was staring at him, stunned by both the barrage of eroticism and its explosive effect on her. Heat was tingling in every vein, and her breasts, beneath his gaze, were swelling as if they were being stroked. She hurriedly glanced out the window. "Oh, yes, I understand."

She felt the warm solid weight of his hand on her knee and she inhaled sharply. She was trembling. She couldn't think, but was having no trouble feeling. Every nerve in her body seemed aflame and her muscles were turning as insubstantial as water. She kept her eyes fixed blindly on the passing scene outside the window as his hand gently rubbed her knee and then slowly pushed her skirt higher to skillfully massage her inner thigh with gentle fingertips. "No stockings," he murmured. "I thoroughly approve."

"It was hot." The words were barely audible and her gaze clung desperately to the passing coffee fields. She should stop him, but she didn't want to stop him. She wanted to sit here and let him touch her and be bathed in this sensual sorcery that was already bewitching her.

"Heat can be a terrible thing." He was widening her legs gently, and she suddenly felt terribly vulnerable. "It can rob you of breath." His fingers trailed further up her thigh. "It can make your muscles knot." His hand suddenly moved up to the apex of her thighs and settled there. She shuddered. She could feel the warm heaviness as if the scrap of material didn't exist. "It can cause you to hurt." He rubbed gently. "Can't it, Serena?"

He didn't wait for an answer. His hand was suddenly gone and he was pulling down her skirt. "Remember, every time I look at you I'm feeling that same heat." He added softly, "Just like you. You want me. Thank God for that."

"I'm a woman and I have the usual responses," Serena said. "You're a very attractive man."

"You're quibbling." His voice was impatient. "Look at me, dammit." His fingers were beneath her chin, forcing her to face him. "Now, tell me. You want me, right? Not just any attractive man. Me."

His gaze was holding her own with irresistible force. "Why should I-" She broke off and answered him honestly. "Yes."

He expelled his breath in a long sigh of relief. "Whew, you had me scared for a minute."

"You certainly didn't show it," she said tartly. "I feel as if I've been run over by a steamroller."

He chuckled and released her chin. "I guess I can be a little aggressive on occasion. Just shrug it off and tell me to go to hell. That's what Ross does."

"Not very often, I bet."

"Now that I think about it, he hasn't done it for a long time."

"I imagine he gets tired of being flattened."

For an instant Gideon appeared uncertain, then thoughtful. "I suppose I'll have to see what I can do about that."

Serena threw back her head and laughed. "Here we go again."

His expression was indignant. "Why are you laughing?"

"I can just see you plumping and pumping to unflatten Ross. I think he'd prefer you to let him stay flattened."

"The easy way isn't always the best way and if

Ross needs-" His lips quirked. "You think I'm too pushy?"

"It has occurred to me."

"I'll try to tone it down." He added half beneath his breath, "On the unimportant things."

Serena chuckled and shook her head. "Hopeless."

The limousine had pulled up to the front porch of the two-story stone house and Gideon opened the door and got out. He helped her from the car and whispered in her ear, "Never. There's no one more hopeful than I am."

A hot shiver chased down her spine and she looked away from him to the wide stone porch that fronted the house. "This house looks very old. When was it built?"

"The turn of the century." His glance flew to her face. "You don't mind old houses? I had this one thoroughly restored, and installed all the modern conveniences. I just think old houses have a special ambience."

"I think so too. My friend, Elizabeth, owns an old mill that has a wonderfully warm atmosphere."

"Do you want it?" Gideon asked. "Shall I buy it for you?"

She looked at him in surprise. "She'd never sell it. It's her home."

"I'll find a way."

He probably would find one, if she didn't get him off the track. "Back off, steamroller, perhaps you didn't hear me. She's my friend, and you don't bulldoze friends into the ground." She sighed with exasperation. "Why are we even discussing this? We're talking as if we're going to be together for the next fifty years."

Gideon smiled with satisfaction. "We are, aren't we?" He took her elbow and they climbed the stone steps. "I like that."

"Well, I don't. One week, remember?"

"I remember," he murmured. "Do you like the leaded-glass casement windows? They didn't come with the original house but I thought they fit."

"I think they're beautiful."

A brilliant smile lit his face. "Good. You can change anything that doesn't appeal to you, but I think you'll like most of it." He looked over his shoulder at the driver. "Put the baggage upstairs, Ricardo. Then you can go back to the hotel." He turned to Serena. "I have a maid who comes in every day to clean and cook, but I told her to stay away while you were here. I didn't want her getting in our way, and I figured we could take care of ourselves for a week." He smiled. "There are always omelets. I even had the phone disconnected." He opened the front door. "Welcome home, love."

For Serena, "home" had always been a place to come back to after the frenetic pace of the fashion world, or one of Dane's wild adventures. She had thought she preferred that concept to one of roots and permanency. During the short tour of the house, it became clear that wasn't Gideon's idea of home at all. This was a house in which to grow and change, a house in which to have children, a house to absorb the joys and sorrows of the people who lived within its walls.

Though the furniture was light and airy as befitted the tropical climate, it breathed comfort and color and homeyness. The floors throughout the house were polished to a warm, earthy luster, and even the huge family kitchen combined microwave efficiency with old-world charm. The bedrooms on the second floor were equally charming: canopy beds, delicately tinted Aubusson rugs scattered over gleaming hardwood floors, copper-based lamps, and vases holding fresh flowers. Everything about the house spoke of loving care and comfort.

"It's lovely. I don't wonder you bought it," Serena said sincerely as she looked out the leaded- glass casement windows in the master bedroom at an incredibly beautiful view of the sea in the distance. "It's absolutely perfect."

Gideon smiled delightedly. "That's a relief." He opened the door to the hall with a touch of boyish impatience. "I hate to lure you away from any bedroom just on general principles, but there's still one room you haven't seen yet. Come on, it's right down the hall."

There was a touch of maternal indulgence in her smile as she followed Gideon. Her smile faded as he threw open the door of the room at the end of the hall. "A studio?" She stepped slowly into the room. An artist's studio, completely furnished with everything she could possibly need. Floor-to- ceiling windows allowed sunlight to flood in, and an easel and paints stood in the center of the small room.

"It's been waiting for you, Serena," Gideon said quietly.

She swallowed. "I told you I didn't paint much anymore. Just sketches for my work."

"That doesn't mean you can't begin again. It's all here waiting for you. There are some wonderful views from this hill. The sea can be a thousand different colors at sunset and that lake I mentioned looks like something out of a science fiction novel, wreathed in morning mist. You could start some sketches this evening and-"

"You want me to work during the week I'm here?" Her eyes had widened in surprise. "Aren't you defeating your own purpose?"

"Maybe." His lips twisted. "But it's the perfect opportunity for you to start again. I told you I didn't like the idea of your being robbed of any of your dreams, and I'll be damned if I'll let it go on."

Serena felt the tears sting her eyes. What a touching thing to do. "One week won't help much," she said huskily. "I'm terribly rusty. I haven't actually painted since the first year of my marriage."

"It would be a start." He grinned. "I bet I get you hooked again."

There was no question he was going to try, and Serena felt a sudden thrill of fear. Painting had always been a heady addiction. That was the reason she had stopped when she'd been forced to take up designing to earn a living for Dane and herself. It was a passion that could dominate her life, and blow her present career to bits. "I don't think I'd better… There's not enough time to make it worthwhile."

Gideon's smile vanished. "You're frightened, aren't you? Grabbing onto a dream can be as scary as hell. It's much easier just to drift along with the current." He paused. "But you have to be all you can be, Serena. You have to grab every brass ring and try every road." He crossed the few steps between them to look gravely down into her eyes. His own eyes were deep and glowing and his voice took on tones of velvet persuasion. "This will be good for you, baby. Trust me."

She pulled her gaze away and laughed shakily. "This is not a glass of orange juice. You're steam- rolling again."

"This is one of the important things." He took her chin in his fingers and brought her gaze back to him. "Remember, you promised me a picture. You never painted that picture for me, Serena."

He was wrong. She had painted a dozen pictures for him the first year after she had left him. It had been her only relief during that hellish period. "Do you want me to do a mural for the living room wall?" she asked flippantly.

"No, just one picture, but I want my choice, so you'll have to provide me with a wide selection." He brushed the tip of her nose with his lips. "Landscapes, portraits…"He leered clowningly. "Nudes. I want it all." Something hot and smoky flickered in the depths of his eyes. "All."

"You're not going to let me out of this, are you?"

"Not on your life."

She stepped back, already experiencing the beginning of the creative excitement she had thought she had forgotten. A blank canvas, paints, a beautifully lush tropical countryside… Oh, Lord, she shouldn't give in to him. It was a mistake, but one she knew she was going to make anyway. In fact, she could scarcely wait to start. "You may be soriy. There's something you should know about me. Ross once told me that one of your primary characteristics was determination. Well, one of mine is total single-mindedness. Once I focus on something, I become obsessive and can't let go." She tried to smile. "Even if it rips me apart, I still can't let go."

He nodded resignedly, his gaze on the eagerness lighting her face. "I'll learn to live with it. The sketch books and pencils are on the shelf beneath that work table across the room. Why don't you grab what you need and take it to your room and change? I'd like to take you on a tour of the grounds before it gets dark, and you might want to make a few sketches, if something catches your eye."

"I'll do that." The excitement was growing as she moved quickly across the room to the table. She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. "Thank you, Gideon."

"It's my pleasure." His smile held a touch of self-mockery as he turned away. "I hope. I'll knock on your door in fifteen minutes. Okay?"

"Uhhmm." She was examining the sketch books and pencils.

His smile deepened. "Ill make it forty-five minutes." He quietly closed the door, leaving her alone in the sunlit studio.