If You Believe

"Sell by color?"

"No. "

"Then why separate? No other fruit farmer Ive worked for does that. And Ive picked apples from coast to coast. "

Mariah stiffened at the question. Irritation thinned her lips. "I dont care what other farms do, Mr. Stone. I have always harvested the fruit here, and thats how / do it. If you think that will present a problem—"

He laughed and stood up. "Naw, I can do it. I just wondered why I should, but I got my answer. "

She eyed him warily. "You did?"

"Sure. Because you like things neat and tidy. " He looped his thumbs in the baggy waistband of his jean pants and sauntered toward her. Just in front of her, he stopped, smiling broadly. "No wonder you have such a problem with me. "

She tried to back away from him, but the sink held her in place. "Believe me, I have no problem with you, Mr. Stone. "

He smiled and leaned closer. So close, he could see the smattering of freckles that dusted her nose like specks of cinnamon. So close, he could see the reddish gold flecks that lightened her brown eyes. "Good, then we should get along just fine. "

She didnt move, just stood there, toe to toe with him. "Thats where youre wrong, Mr. Stone. We wont get along at all. "

Chapter Five The tree blocked out the warm, early morning sun. Light streamed through the fluttering leaves and dappled the apple-littered grass.

Mad Dog watched Mariah work. She was standing on the bottom rung of a wooden ladder, checking apples for ripeness with the focused intensity of a general on the front line.

There was something about her right now that piqued his interest. Even on that silly, wobbly ladder, she stood as stiff as a marble statue, her chin cocked at a ninety-degree angle.

Restraint, he decided; thats what caught his attention. Hed never known anyone—especially himself—to show any restraint at all. Everyone he knew, male and female, drank too much, moved too often, and died too young.

Not Mariah Throckmorton. Shed probably never danced or drunk or screwed in her whole life. And she was no spring chicken. She was so damned . . . fenced in. So controlled. And yet, even with all her rigid discipline, there was sometimes a softness to her that surprised and intrigued him. Like the other night, when hed seen her staring out the kitchen window at the darkened farm. Shed looked . . . different. For a second there, hed wondered about her, wondered what kind of woman lay beneath the schoolmarms drab brown dresses. Shed looked—absurdly—like a woman whod had trouble in her life.

He studied her, wondering what she was really like. Could she be the kind of woman with a secret past? Or was she exactly what she appeared to be: a judgmental, iron-hard spinster who didnt like her routine upset.

The question alone grabbed him. For some strange, illogical reason, she beckoned him. Not with the usual come-hither glances and welcoming breasts of most of the women he knew, but with something more subtle . . . and infinitely more intriguing.

She was a mystery and a challenge.

He couldnt help wanting to break through that shield, just once, and see how human she was beneath it. If for no other reason than to see if he could.

Quietly, knowing how much it would irritate Miss Pay-Attention Throckmorton, he laughed.

She turned on him and crossed her arms. "And what, precisely, do you find so amusing, Mr. Stone?"

"I just love watching a woman work, Miss Throckmorton. "

She gave him an uppity sniff. "No doubt its the novelty of watching anyone work at all, Mr. Stone. "

He gave her a slow, lazy smile. She was rising to the bait. She didnt want to; he could see it in the stiffening of her back, in the way she leaned slightly away from him. But she was responding anyway. "I expect youre right. "

"Now, as I was saying, theres a chance this tree is ready to be picked. " She frowned a bit. "For storage, of course. "

"Of course. "

She turned, gave him a knowing nod. "Some apples are best when stored for a while. "

He gave her a pointed once-over. "Thats true of women, too. "

She didnt flinch, but her gaze hardened. "A fascinating observation, Mr. Stone.

Now I must turn your attention to the work at hand. " She peered down at him from her elevated position on the ladder. "You did catch that word, didnt you?