“How’d you know about the creek and guess we’d be coming here?” Harlan asked, more amused than ever by her earlier grudging comparison of the creek to the ocean.

“Cody showed me,” she said, shrugging, her expression all innocence. “He said it was your favorite place. When you invited Mom to go riding, I knew you’d end up here.”

That explained the swimsuit and her earlier derisive reaction. The creek had probably looked much more interesting when she’d been here with Cody, Harlan decided. It also explained her determination to come along today. She hadn’t wanted her mother alone with him in such a romantic setting.

“Can I go in the water, Mom?”

“Not right after lunch,” Janet said at once.

“She’ll be fine,” Harlan said. “The creek’s only waist high at its deepest.”

Janet still seemed uneasy—about the swim or being left alone with him, it was hard to tell—but she gave permission.

“You could go in, too,” Harlan said when Jenny had run off.

“I didn’t wear my suit,” she said.

“That’s not a problem. Strip down over behind those trees. I won’t peek. Cross my heart.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, amusement making her eyes sparkle.

Harlan’s pulse bucked like a bronco. She looked ten years younger all of a sudden. That was the way of flirting, he decided. It lifted spirits and drained away problems, at least for a moment in time. It brought back that starry-eyed anticipation that regrettably seemed to fade once youth had passed by.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay right here, where it’s safe,” she said.

“Darlin’, if you think it’s safe here with me, your judgment has more problems than that old car of yours.”

To his surprise, she grinned. “But you’re an honorable man and you’ve already promised that absolutely nothing will happen as long as Jenny is around.”

“That promise didn’t allow for the temptation factor. You keep taunting me and I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Then by all means, let’s change the subject. Tell me about White Pines.”

He leaned back against the tree and linked his hands behind his head just to keep himself from reaching for her.

“It’s been in my family since the time of the Civil War,” he said, thinking back to all the history that Mary had loved so deeply. She’d been far more fascinated by the Adams legacy than he had been. He’d just loved the land and ranching. It was as deeply ingrained in his blood as whatever DNA there was to identify him.