“Yeah. We came back yesterday because I remembered I had a soccer game and she had an inspiration and couldn’t do anything with it in Phoenix with all the kids running around like monkeys.”

“I see.” And though he did, perfectly, Lee was left floundering in the dark. “Go ahead, then, we’ll be right along.”

“Okay. Come on, Santanas.” Then she shot Lee a quick grin. “He looks pretty ferocious, but he doesn’t bite.” As the girl darted away, Lee wondered if she’d been speaking of the dog or her father. When she was once again alone with Hunter, Lee remained still and silent.

“I’ll apologize for the rudeness of my family, if you’d like.”

Family. The word struck her, a dose of reality that flung her out of the dream. Rising, Lee meticulously dusted off her jeans. “There’s no need.” Her voice was cool, almost chill. Her muscles were wire-taut. “Since the game’s over, I’d like you to drive me into Sedona so I can arrange for transportation back to L.A.”

“Game?” In one long, easy motion, he came to his feet, then took her hand, stopping its nervous movement. It was a gesture that had become so much of a habit, neither of them noticed. “There’s no game, Lenore.”

“Oh, you played it very well.” The hurt she wouldn’t permit in her voice showed clearly in her eyes. Her hand remained cold and rigid in his. “So well, in fact, I completely forgot we were playing.”

Patience deserted him abruptly and without warning. Anger he could handle, with more anger or with amusement. But hurt left him with no defense, no attack. “Don’t be an idiot. Whatever game there was ended a few nights ago in the tent.”

“Ended.” Tears sprang to her eyes, stunning her. Furiously she blinked them back, filled with self-disgust, but not before he’d seen them. “No, it never ended. You’re an excellent strategist, Hunter. You seemed to be so open with me that I didn’t think you were holding anything back.” She jerked her hand from his, longing for the luxury of dissolving into those hot, cleansing tears. “How could you?” she demanded. “How could you touch me that way and lie?”

“I never lied to you.” His voice was as calm as hers, his eyes were as full of passion.

“You have a child.” Something snapped inside her, so that she had to grip her hands together to prevent herself from wringing them. “You have a half-grown daughter you never mentioned to me. You told me you’d never been married.”

“I haven’t been,” he said simply, and waited for the inevitable questions.