Was it possible he didn't know? How much had he been told? She froze for a second with the whip in the air. What if Dad hadn't sent him? What if he was stalking her? Or was Clara right? Was it possible that he was personally interested? She ground her teeth. Not according to Denton. Again she wondered about her previous suitors. Of course, she hadn't been interested in them either - not seriously, anyway. And yet she found Keaton strangely intriguing. If only she could believe that Keaton was genuinely interested in her. But Denton had destroyed that notion. Would she ever be certain of a suitor's intent again?

She brought the whip down with such force that it whistled through the air. Like an angry golfer, she sent a huge divot into the air. The sod arched into the air and fell, targeting Keaton.

He dodged the spray of dry earth and stared at the clump that fell at his feet. He whistled softly through his teeth.

"Forget I asked. I was only making idle conversation anyway. Your personal life is none of my business."

An uncomfortable warmth surged up her neck, flooding her cheeks. She was letting her imagination work overtime again. He was merely a friendly neighbor practicing southern hospitality. It was purely coincidental that he was on the same flight out of Los Angeles, and that he happened to work down the road from the house she rented. What was so strange about a man dropping in to welcome a new neighbor - one visitor to another - a man welcoming a person who lived several miles away? A man who worked on a chicken farm in a white T-shirt and clean white sneakers...a migrant handyman with no calluses and a golfer's swing? Was she crazy? Of course he had been sent by Dad. He certainly hadn't driven this far to gaze in awe at her beauty.

And yet, there was no reason to be upset with him. After all, he was merely doing his job - playing out a part that probably meant a lot to his career. She straightened shoulders that had unconsciously slumped. At any rate, nothing could be gained by feeling sorry for herself. She hefted the whip and started working on another area of tall grass. From the corner of her eye she saw Keaton select a rock from the drive and throw it into the woods. It arched high and came down with a clatter. Even in the dense underbrush, it had found another rock.

He glanced at the cabin. "Are you starting to get bored yet, or did you pack a TV?"




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