"What do you have against him?"

"He thinks women are one endless roll of toilet paper created solely to wipe his butt."

"Sounds like his granddaddy."

"Why is it that the worst breed true and the best die young?"

"You figure that out and you'll be the next TV guru."

The wind blew hard, as it had on and off all night. The adobe part of the house didn't tremble with the weight of the shifting wind, but the broken window let in a lot of cold air. Carly rubbed her arms again.

"Is it okay if I start a fire in the hearth?" she asked.

"The woodpile is outside."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"The temperature dropped again. It's freezing out there. I'll get the wood while you put water on to boil for coffee."

Her eyes gleamed and she sighed. "Coffee. What are you waiting for?"

"You to leave so I can get dressed. Or," he said, reaching for the blankets covering his lap, "you can stick around and we'll warm up the old-fashioned way."

"Bundling?" she asked, all but fanning her eyelashes.

The blankets started rising.

Carly turned her back and ran for the kitchen, grinning every step of the way. It was fun to tease Dan, to watch the grim lines of his face shift into a smile. She didn't know what he'd done before he came back to Taos, but she knew it hadn't been easy.

And he was way too comfortable with a gun.

By the time she put together coffee, heated tortillas, and scrambled eggs, the fire was snapping and dancing over chunks of frozen pinon. The heat was on, too, but its surly electric fire didn't make a dent in the cold, wind-driven air rushing through from the living room. She shivered, handed Dan his coffee and breakfast, and went to stand beside the fire.

"Tell me again why you rented this place," she muttered.

"The cottonwood tree." Then, "I thought you loved history."

"I hate getting up to a cold floor."

"That's okay. You made up for whining by cooking breakfast along with the coffee."

"I didn't whine."

"You shrieked."

She waved her hand. "Different thing entirely."

"Then you whimpered until your feet went numb."

"Your point is?"

He smiled at her. "Damned if I know."

She gave him an eye-roll and smiled into her coffee. Even with icy feet, it was fun to wake up with Dan nearby. The fact that she'd spent a lot of restless time last night wishing nearby had been a lot closer was her problem. She'd been sending out I-don't-think-I'm-ready signals, and he'd respected them. The fact that he didn't push, shove, crowd, demand, nag, or sulk told her more than a night of wild jungle sex with him could have.

And the thought of that kind of sex with Dan stopped her breath.

"When are you leaving?" he asked.

"Leaving? You want me to go to a motel?"

"No, I want you to go home, where it's safe."

"The deputy and I had this conversation last night. That's when I pointed out his office wasn't exactly sweating over my safety so why should I?"

Dan looked at her stubborn expression and knew he wasn't going to have any better luck than the deputy.

"Besides," Carly added, "when you think about it, it's been all show and no go."

"Sound and fury signifying nothing?"

"Exactly. No harm, no foul." She forced a casual shrug. "Anyway, running was never my best sport."

"What could I say to make you change your mind?"

She thought about it. "Nothing. But if you want to get away from the fallout zone, I completely understand. I'll pay for replacing the window and-"

"Are you trying to make me mad?" Dan cut in.

She looked at his face, swallowed too much hot coffee, and winced. "No. I'm trying not to back you in a corner. This is my problem, not yours."

"Bullshit."

"Well, that's an adult argument."

"Were we arguing?"

"Dan, you don't have to do this. You don't know me and-"

"You are trying to piss me off." He leaned over, pulled her close, kissed her cross-eyed, and lifted his head. "It won't work, Carolina May. I know everything I need to about you, except how good we'll be together in bed. Sooner or later, I'll know that, too." He smiled at her, his mother's smile, the one that could light up winter.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Very."

"Not about the sex. The rest of it."

"Yes."

She blew out a long breath. "Okay. But if you get hurt because of me, I'm going to wring your neck."

"Sounds kinky."

"You're such a guy." Carly pushed back from the table and looked away before she grabbed him and did interesting things to his body. "I'm going to work on the stereographs."

Dan's expression said he'd rather she worked on him. "I printed out the list of things you wanted from the archives," he said, pouring himself more coffee.

"Thanks. Leave them by my purse and-"

"No," he cut in easily, "we'll do it together, after I call my mother. But I thought we described the stereographs last night, or was I hallucinating from lack of sleep?"

"We did everything but try to date by the type of card itself. Shape, color, that sort of thing. If that agrees with the costume and the guesses someone wrote on the back of the stereographs, then we can be reasonably certain we have the correct date."

Dan glanced at his watch. His mother should be home now, unless she had extra tutoring. "You want to shower first, second, or conservatively?"

"Conservatively?"

"Together." His green eyes gleamed at her.

"Doesn't sound conservative to me."

"When it comes to saving water, it is."

"Go take a liberal shower."

He laughed and walked to the bedroom. She listened to the intimate, intriguing sounds of Dan showering and told herself she was doing the right thing staying dry. She wasn't sure she believed it, but she was certain that sex with him wouldn't be casual.

That was what was holding her back.

She didn't know if she was ready for something that could break her heart.

With a sigh Carly pulled on white cotton gloves and reached for the stack of stereographs on Dan's bedside table. Although photo albums had been available since the 1880s, apparently no one in the Quintrell family had caught on to the idea until the 1910s. After that there were several albums. Sometime in the 1940s, someone in the family had made one or several attempts to identify the people in the ancestral collection.

At the back of her mind she heard the shower turn off, then the low murmur of Dan's voice talking to someone.

She dragged her attention back to the stereographs. Nothing had improved. Whoever had been trying to do the family history had relied as much on guesswork as fact, leaving a tangle for Carly to sort out along with the cramped yet flowing handwriting of the mysterious wannabe historian.

"You're frowning."

Startled, she looked up. Dan was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, freshly shaved, shirtless, barefoot. The fact that he was decently covered by old jeans didn't keep her pulse from skipping, then jumping into double time. While she stared, he pulled on a T-shirt that was as faded as the jeans. As the last of the tempting male landscape vanished, she swallowed hard and tried to ignore the humming in her blood, in her body.

"Bad family historians are worse than none," she said huskily.

He looked at the stack of card photos in her hands. "Our elusive spider woman, she of the shaky script?"

"I can live with the handwriting. It's the foolish dates that get to me."

"Go shower," he said. "It's nice and warm."

And she was hot.

Carly set aside the cards and turned a tablet on the small cardboard table so he could see it. "These are rough categories for dating stereographs. Use tissue to hold them while you sort. I won't be long."

Dan nodded absently. He was already reading the neat printing on the tablet. Forcing himself to concentrate. Telling himself he couldn't hear her strip off his sweatshirt. He'd sunk pretty low when he envied a sweatshirt that was old enough to vote.