Edna made a face. “He’s a good man, Mr. Coleman,” she said, pulling out pans to start supper. “I hate to see him married to someone like that. Wants his money, maybe, and not him, as well, but had to take the one to get the other.”

“He said she was beautiful.”

“Beautiful isn’t as important as kind,” Edna replied.

“That’s what I think, too.”

“Pity you aren’t older, my girl,” Edna said with a sigh.

“Why?” Niki asked, smiling.

Edna forgot sometimes how unworldly the younger woman was. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “I was just talking to myself. How about mincing some onion for me, and I’ll get this casserole going!”

“I’d be happy to help.”

* * *

BLAIR WASN’T DOING WELL. Niki managed to get into his room the next day while her father was out talking to his foreman and Edna went shopping.

His chest was bare, although the covers were pulled up to his diaphragm. He had a magnificent chest, she thought with helpless longing, broad and covered with thick, curling hair. Muscular and manly.

He opened bloodshot, feverish eyes to look at her as she touched his forehead. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said in a gentle tone. “I might be contagious.”

“I’m not worried. Well, not about me. You should be better by now. When an antibiotic starts working, you can feel the difference.”

He drew in a raspy breath and grimaced. “He gave me penicillin. It usually does the trick.”

“Maybe not this time. I’m calling him right now.”

She went out the door and phoned the doctor.

He was perturbed that she was trying to nurse Blair. “Listen, if you get it again, it might go into pleurisy,” he argued.

“Now, Doctor Fred,” she teased softly, “you know I’ve just finished a course of antibiotics. I’m not likely to pick anything up. Besides, there’s nobody else to do this. Edna has her hands full just with meals, and Daddy’s in the middle of a business deal. Not that he’s a nursely sort of person,” she laughed.

He sighed. “I see your point. Isn’t Coleman married? Where’s his wife? Did you call her?”

“There’s a ball someplace in Europe where she has to go dancing,” she said, the contempt in her voice unmistakable.

“I see.” His tone was noncommittal. “Well, I’ll phone in another prescription, something stronger, and a stronger cough syrup, as well. Try to get some fluids into him. And I don’t want to have you wind up in my office...”

“I’ll be very careful, Doctor,” she promised, thanked him quickly and hung up.

* * *

LATER, SHE SENT one of the ranch’s cowboys into town to get the new medicines, which she’d coaxed out of the poor, harried pharmacist, a friend from high school.

Blair grumbled when she came in with more medicine. “Niki, you’re going to come down with this damned stuff,” he complained.

“Just be quiet and take the nice tablet,” she interrupted, handing him a glass of orange juice with crushed ice.

He frowned. “How did you know I like this?” he wondered.

She laughed. “I didn’t. But I do now. Come on, Blair. Take the pill.” She coaxed his mouth open and dropped the large tablet in.

“Bully,” he muttered in his deep voice.

She only grinned.

He sipped the juice and swallowed. He winced.

“Oh, gosh, it’s acidic. I’m sorry. I’ll get you something less abrasive. Gatorade?” she suggested.

“I’d rather have the juice, honestly. I do wish I had—”

“Some cough drops?” she finished, digging in the prescription bag. “How fortunate that I asked Tex to bring some. And you can have the cough syrup, too.”

She pulled a spoon from her pocket and poured out a dose of the powerful cough syrup the doctor had prescribed.

He took it, his dark eyes amused and affectionate as they met hers. “Your father’s going to raise hell if he catches you in here.”

She made a face at him. “Edna asked me earlier if you’d like something light for dinner. An omelet? She makes them with fresh herbs.”

He hesitated. “I’m not really hungry,” he said, not wanting to hurt Edna’s feelings. He hated eggs.

“I like eggs. We have fresh ones most of the year, when our hens aren’t molting.” She paused, her eyes narrow on his broad, handsome face. “You don’t like eggs, but you don’t want to trouble anyone,” she blurted out. “How about chicken noodle soup instead?”

He laughed. “Damn. How did you figure that out?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

“I’d really rather have the soup, if it’s not too much trouble,” he confessed. “I hate eggs.”

She grinned. “I’ll tell Edna.”

He studied her soft face with narrow, thoughtful eyes. “When do you start classes again?”

“January,” she replied. “I’ve already decided what I’ll take.”

“How do you get back and forth when the snows come?” he wondered.

She laughed. “Dad has one of the boys drive me back and forth. We have a cowboy who grew up in northern Montana. He can drive through anything.”

“It might be more sensible to get you an apartment near campus,” he said.

“I don’t like being on my own,” she said quietly.

He reached out a big hand and tangled her fingers in it. “All men aren’t animals, Niki.”

She shrugged. “I suppose not. I keep thinking what would have happened if you hadn’t been here that night.”

His face tensed. So did he. She was so fragile. Like a hothouse orchid. It bothered him that she was in here risking her own health to nurse him while his wife was off having a wild time in Europe and couldn’t be bothered to call him, let alone look in on him.

He’d never told Niki why he’d really married Elise. It had less to do with who she was than who she resembled. He’d just lost his mother, whom he’d adored, and Elise looked just like her. She’d come up to him at a party while he was grieving, and he’d fallen for her at first sight. Elise looked like his mother, but without her compassion and soul. Niki, oddly, reminded him more of her even than Elise, although Niki’s coloring was very different. Elise had the compassion of a hungry shark.

“You’re very quiet,” she commented.

He smiled gently. “You’re a nice child,” he said softly.

“I’m almost twenty-one,” she protested.

“Honey, I’m almost thirty-seven,” he said, his voice deep with tenderness.

“Really?” She was studying him with those wide, soft gray eyes that were silvery in the soft light of the bedside lamp. She smiled. “You don’t look it. You don’t even have gray hair. Don’t tell me,” she mused wickedly. “You have it colored, don’t you?”

He burst out laughing and then coughed.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” she said at once, wincing. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth!”

He caught his breath. “Niki, you’re a breath of spring,” he said. “No, I don’t color it,” he added. “My father was from Greece. His hair was still black when he died, and he was in his sixties.” He didn’t tell her that his real father was from Greece. He didn’t know or care where his stepfather, the man who’d raised him, came from.

“I remember my grandfather...”

“What in the blazes are you doing in here?” Todd ground out when he saw Niki sitting on the bed beside Blair.

“Well, darn, caught in the act,” Niki groaned.

CHAPTER TWO

“I DID TRY to chase her out,” Blair told his friend ruefully. “She wouldn’t go.”

“I called Doctor Fred,” Niki told her dad. “Blair wasn’t getting better. By the second day, I’m usually bouncing off the walls. Doctor Fred called in some new meds, and I had Tex go pick them up in town.”

“You’ll get sick again,” her father said solemnly.

“I will not,” Niki replied. “I’m just off antibiotics myself. And it isn’t as if I’m kissing him or anything,” she added indignantly. “I’m only pouring medicine into him. Well, that and orange juice,” she added. She grinned at her father.

Blair, looking up at her, had a sudden stark urge to drag her down into his arms and see if her mouth was as soft and sweet as it looked. That shocked him into letting go of her hand. He must be losing his mind. Well, he was sick. If that was an excuse.

“I’m sorry to stick you with an invalid over the holidays,” Blair began.

Todd cut him off, chuckling. “Niki’s almost always sick at Christmas,” he replied. “We’re used to it.”

He frowned. “At Christmas?”

“Yes,” Todd said with a sigh. “Last year we made sure she wasn’t around anyone who had a cold. She got pneumonia anyway.”

Blair’s dark eyes narrowed. “You have a live fir tree downstairs.”

“Yes. We always do,” Niki said, smiling. “I love live trees. It’s in a ball, so that we can plant it after...”

“A live tree,” Blair persisted. “Some people are allergic to them.”

Niki and her father looked at each other in confusion.

“We had artificial trees until about three years ago,” Todd said. “You wanted a live tree like your girlfriend had at her home.”

Niki grimaced. “I started getting sick at Christmas three years ago. I never connected it.”

“I’ll have Tex come and take the live tree out,” Todd said. “We’ll get a pretty artificial one from the hardware store in town, and you can decorate it again.”

Niki laughed. “I guess I’ll have to.” She glanced at Blair. “Leave it to you to see the obvious, when both of us miss it.”

“Good for me,” he mused.

“I’ll go talk to Edna about that soup,” Niki said. She put the bottle of cough syrup on the bedside table and picked up the spoon. “Want some more juice?” she added.

He shook his head. “I’m fine. Thanks, Niki.”

She grinned and left the men to talk.

“I couldn’t stop her,” Blair said quietly. “She’s formidable when she makes up her mind. I didn’t encourage her to come in here.”

“I know that.” Todd dropped into the chair beside the bed. “Her mother, Martha, was just like that,” he told the younger man. “She’d go out of her way to help sick people. Niki worries.”

“Yes.”

Todd’s eyes narrowed. “I called Elise.”

Blair’s face closed up. “She can’t bear illness.”

Todd didn’t say a word. But his expression was eloquent.

Blair just shrugged.

“She reminded you of Bernice, didn’t she?” Todd asked, because he and Blair had been friends for a long time. He’d been the one they’d called when Blair was going out of his mind after the accident that left his mother first paralyzed, and soon after, dead.

Blair’s face grew hard. “Yes.”

Todd didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I. But I’ll make the best of it,” he added. “No woman is going to be perfect.”

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, Blair was feeling better. He sat up in bed to eat the food on the tray Edna brought him, and he was smiling when Niki peered in to check on him.

“I’m not going to die anytime soon,” he assured her with a grin.

She grinned back. “Okay. Nice to see that you’re better. I won’t have to worry Doctor Fred again.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “I don’t think I’m going to catch whatever you’ve got. I don’t even have a sore throat.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” he said. “I don’t want to be responsible for putting you back in bed again.”

“Thanks. But I’m good. Want some more orange juice?”

“Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

* * *

SHE SAT WITH Blair from time to time while he recovered. Once, she brought in her iPad and presented him with a graphic novel from the Alien vs. Predator series, one they both enjoyed.

“This is cool,” he chuckled. “You can carry graphic novels around without having to lug a suitcase full of them.”

“I thought so, too. I’ve got a Calvin and Hobbes collection on there, as well. It’s one of my favorites.”

He nodded. “Mine, too. Thanks, Niki.”

“No problem.” She got up. “I have to help Edna and the two temporary cooks with the breads. We have a huge spread for Christmas dinner.”

“That’s on Thursday,” he pointed out.

“Yes, and today is Tuesday. We start baking breads today for the dressing, and cooking giblets for the gravy and making pies and cakes. It takes a while. We set the big fancy table in the dining room, and we have the cowboys and their wives come by, in shifts, to share it with us. That’s a tradition that dates back to my grandfather’s time here.”

“It seems like a nice one,” he commented.

She smiled. “They work very hard for us all year. It’s little enough to do. We have presents for them, and their children, under the tree. It’s usually a madhouse here on Christmas Day. I hope you’ll be up to it,” she added with a grin.

“I’ve never been involved in Christmas celebrations,” he commented.

“Not even when you were a child?” she asked, surprised.

“My...father was an agnostic,” he said, hating the memory of his stepfather. “We didn’t celebrate Christmas.”

She hesitated. “Was your mother like that, too?”

His face was hard. “She did what he told her to do. It was a different generation, honey. He was old-school. God bless her, she put up with a lot from him. But she missed him when he died.”

“I’m sure you did, too.”

“In my way.”

Eager to lighten the atmosphere, because his face was painfully somber, she said, “We have eggnog on Christmas Eve. I make it from scratch.”

He made a face.

She grimaced. “I see. You don’t like eggs, so you won’t like eggnog, right?”

“Right. I’ll just have my whiskey neat instead of polluting it with eggs,” he said, tongue in cheek.

She sighed. “Are you always such a demanding dinner guest?” she despaired.

He chuckled. His black eyes twinkled at her. “I like pretty much anything except things with egg in them. Just don’t forget the whiskey.”

She sighed. He was very handsome. She loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She loved the strong, chiseled lines of his wide mouth, the high cheekbones, the thick black wavy hair around his leonine face. His chest was a work of art in itself. She had to force herself not to look at it too much. It was broad and muscular, under a thick mat of curling black hair that ran down to the waistband of his silk pajamas. Apparently, he didn’t like jackets, because he never wore one with the bottoms. His arms were muscular, without being overly so. He would have delighted an artist.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” he wondered aloud.

“That an artist would love painting you,” she blurted out, and then flushed then cleared her throat. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

He lifted both eyebrows. “Miss Ashton,” he scoffed, “you aren’t by any chance flirting with me, are you?”

“Mr. Coleman, the thought never crossed my mind!”

“Don’t obsess over me,” he said firmly, but his eyes were still twinkling. “I’m a married man.”

She sighed. “Yes, thank goodness.”

His eyebrows lifted in a silent question.

“Well, if you weren’t married, I’d probably disgrace myself. Imagine, trying to ravish a sick man in bed because I’m obsessing over the way he looks without a shirt!”

He burst out laughing. “Go away, you bad girl.”

Her own eyes twinkled. “I’ll banish myself to the kitchen and make lovely things for you to eat.”

“I’ll look forward to that.”

She smiled and left him.

He looked after her with conflicting emotions. He had a wife. Sadly, one who was a disappointment in almost every way; a cold woman who took and took without a thought of giving anything back. He’d married her thinking she was the image of his mother. Elise had seemed very different while they were dating. But the minute the ring was on her finger, she was off on her travels, spending more and more of his money, linking up with old friends whom she paid to travel with her. She was never home. In fact, she made a point of avoiding her husband as much as possible.

This really was the last straw, though, ignoring him when he was ill. It had cut him to the quick to have Todd and Niki see the emptiness of their relationship. He wasn’t that sick. It was the principle of the thing. Well, he had some thinking to do when he left the Ashtons, didn’t he?

* * *

CHRISTMAS DAY WAS BOISTEROUS. Niki and Edna and three other women took turns putting food on the table for an unending succession of people who worked for the Ashtons. Most were cowboys, but several were executives from Todd’s oil corporation.

Niki liked them all, but she was especially fond of their children. She dreamed of having a child of her own one day. She spent hours in department stores, ogling the baby things.

She got down on the carpet with the children around the Christmas tree, oohing and aahing over the presents as they opened them. One little girl who was six years old got a Barbie doll with a holiday theme. The child cried when she opened the gaily wrapped package.

“Lisa, what’s wrong, baby?” Niki cooed, drawing her into her lap.

“Daddy never buys me dolls, and I love dolls so much, Niki,” she whispered. “Thank you!” She kissed Niki and held on tight.

“You should tell him that you like dolls, sweetheart,” Niki said, hugging her close.

“I did. He bought me a big yellow truck.”

“A what?”

“A truck, Niki,” the child said with a very grown-up sigh. “He wanted a little boy. He said so.”

Niki looked as indignant as she felt. But she forced herself to smile at the child. “I think little girls are very sweet,” she said softly, brushing back the pretty dark hair.

“So do I,” Blair said, kneeling down beside them. He smiled at the child, too. “I wish I had a little girl.”

“You do? Honest?” Lisa asked, wide-eyed.

“Honest.”

She got up from Niki’s lap and hugged the big man. “You’re nice.”

He hugged her back. It surprised him, how much he wanted a child. He drew back, the smile still on his face. “So are you, precious.”

“I’m going to show Mama my doll,” she said. “Thanks, Niki!”

“You’re very welcome.”

The little girl ran into the dining room, where the adults were finishing dessert.

“Poor thing,” Niki said under her breath. “Even if he thinks it, he shouldn’t have told her.”

“She’s a nice child,” he said, getting to his feet. He looked down at Niki. “You’re a nice child, yourself.”

She made a face at him. “Thanks. I think.”

His dark eyes held an expression she’d never seen before. They fell to her waistline and jerked back up. He turned away. “Any more coffee going? I’m sure mine’s cold.”

“Edna will have made a new pot by now,” she said. His attitude disconcerted her. Why had he looked at her that way? Her eyes followed him as he strode back into the dining room, towering over most of the other men. The little girl smiled up at him, and he ruffled her hair.

He wanted children. She could see it. But apparently his wife didn’t. What a waste, she thought. What a wife he had. She felt sorry for him. He’d said when he was engaged that he was crazy about Elise. Why didn’t she care enough to come when he was ill?

“It’s not my business,” she told herself firmly.

It wasn’t. But she felt very sorry for him just the same. If he’d married her, they’d have a houseful of children. She’d take care of him and love him and nurse him when he was sick... She pulled herself up short. He was a married man. She shouldn’t be thinking such things.

* * *

SHE’D BOUGHT PRESENTS online for her father and Edna and Blair. She was careful to get Blair something impersonal. She didn’t want his wife to think she was chasing him or anything. She picked out a tie tac, a fleur de lis made of solid gold. She couldn’t understand why she’d chosen such a thing. He had Greek ancestry, as far as she knew, not French. It had been an impulse.

Her father had gone to answer the phone, a call from a business associate who wanted to wish him happy holidays, leaving Blair and Niki alone in the living room by the tree. She felt like an idiot for making the purchase.

Now Blair was opening the gift, and she ground her teeth together when he took the lid off the box and stared at it with wide, stunned eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she began self-consciously. “The sales slip is in there,” she added. “You can exchange it if...”

He looked at her. His expression stopped her tirade midsentence. “My mother was French,” he said quietly. “How did you know?”

She faltered. She couldn’t manage words. “I didn’t. It was an impulse.”

His big fingers smoothed over the tie tac. “In fact, I had one just like it that she bought me when I graduated from college.” He swallowed. Hard. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.”

His dark eyes pinned hers. “Open yours now.”

She fumbled with the small box he’d had hidden in his suitcase until this morning. She tore off the ribbons and opened it. Inside was the most beautiful brooch she’d ever seen. It was a golden orchid on an ivory background. The orchid was purple with a yellow center, made of delicate amethyst and topaz and gold.

She looked at him with wide, soft eyes. “It’s so beautiful...”

He smiled with real affection. “It reminded me of you, when I saw it in the jewelry store,” he lied, because he’d had it commissioned by a noted jewelry craftsman, just for her. “Little hothouse orchid,” he teased.

She flushed. She took the delicate brooch out of its box and pinned it to the bodice of her black velvet dress. “I’ve never had anything so lovely,” she faltered. “Thank you.”

He stood up and drew her close to him. “Thank you, Niki.” He bent and started to brush her mouth with his, but forced himself to deflect the kiss to her soft cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

She felt the embrace to the nails of her toes. He smelled of expensive cologne and soap, and the feel of that powerful body so close to hers made her vibrate inside. She was flustered by the contact, and uneasy because he was married.

She laughed, moving away. “I’ll wear it to church every Sunday,” she promised without really looking at him.

He cleared his throat. The contact had affected him, too. “I’ll wear mine to board meetings, for a lucky charm,” he teased gently. “To ward off hostile takeovers.”

“I promise it will do the job,” she replied, and grinned.

Her father came back to the living room, and the sudden, tense silence was broken. Conversation turned to politics and the weather, and Niki joined in with forced cheerfulness.

But she couldn’t stop touching the orchid brooch she’d pinned to her dress.

* * *

TIME PASSED. BLAIR’S VISITS to the ranch had slowed until they were almost nonexistent. Her father said Blair was trying to make his marriage work. Niki thought, privately, that it would take a miracle to turn fun-loving Elise into a housewife. But she forced herself not to dwell on it. Blair was married. Period. She did try to go out more with her friends, but never on a blind date again. The experience with Harvey had affected her more than she’d realized.

Graduation day came all too soon. Niki had enjoyed college. The daily commute was a grind, especially in the harsh winter, but thanks to Tex, who could drive in snow and ice, it was never a problem. Her grade point average was good enough for a magna cum laude award. And she’d already purchased her class ring months before.

“Is Blair coming with Elise, do you think?” Niki asked her father as they parted inside the auditorium just before the graduation ceremony.

He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think so,” he said. “They’ve had some sort of blowup,” he added. “Blair’s butler, Jameson, called me last night. He said Blair locked himself in his study and won’t come out.”

“Oh, dear,” Niki said, worried. “Can’t he find a key and get in?”

“I’ll suggest that,” he promised. He forced a smile. “Go graduate. You’ve worked hard for this.”

She smiled. “Yes, I have. Now all I have to do is decide if I want to go on to graduate school or get a job.”

“A job?” he scoffed. “As if you’ll ever need to work.”

“You’re rich,” she pointed out. “I’m not.”

“You’re rich, too,” he argued. He bent and kissed her cheek, a little uncomfortably. He wasn’t a demonstrative man. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“Thanks, Daddy!”

“Don’t forget to turn the tassel to the other side when the president hands you your diploma.”

“I won’t forget.”

* * *

THE CEREMONY WAS LONG, and the speaker was tedious. By the time he finished, the audience was restless, and Niki just wanted it over with.

She was third in line to get her diploma. She thanked the dean, whipped her tassel to the other side as she walked offstage and grinned to herself, imagining her father’s pleased expression.

It took a long time for all the graduates to get through the line, but at last it was over, and Niki was outside with her father, congratulating classmates and working her way to the parking lot.

She noted, when they were inside the car, that her father was frowning.

“I turned my tassel,” she reminded him.

He sighed. “Sorry, honey. I was thinking about Blair.”

Her heart jumped. “Did you call Jameson?”

“Yes. He finally admitted that Blair hasn’t been sober for three days. Apparently, the divorce is final, and Blair found out some unsavory things about his wife.”

“Oh, dear.” She tried not to feel pleasure that Blair was free. He’d said often enough that he thought of Niki as a child. “What sort of things?”

“I can’t tell you, honey. It’s very private stuff.”

She drew in a long breath. “We should go get him and bring him to the ranch,” she said firmly. “He shouldn’t be on his own in that sort of mood.”

He smiled softly. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing. Call Dave and have them get the Learjet over here. You can come with me if you like.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “I might need the help,” he mused. “Blair gets a little dangerous when he drinks, but he’d never hit a woman,” he added.

She nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

BLAIR DIDN’T RESPOND to her father’s voice asking him to open the door. Muffled curses came through the wood, along with sounds of a big body bumping furniture.

“Let me try,” Niki said softly. She rapped on the door. “Blair?” she called.

There was silence, followed by the sound of footsteps coming closer. “Niki?” came a deep, slurred voice.

“Yes, it’s me.”

He unlocked the door and opened it. He looked terrible. His face was flushed from too much alcohol. His black, wavy hair was ruffled. His blue shirt, unbuttoned and untucked, looked as if he’d slept in it. So did his black pants. He was a little unsteady on his feet. His eyes roved over Niki’s face with warm affection.

She reached out and caught his big hand in both of hers. “You’re coming home with us,” she said gently. “Come on, now.”

“Okay,” he said, without a single protest.

Jameson, standing to one side, out of sight, sighed with relief. He grinned at her father.

Blair drew in a long breath. “I’m pretty drunk.”

“That’s okay,” Niki said, still holding tight to his hand. “We won’t let you drive.”

He burst out laughing. “Damned little brat,” he muttered.

She grinned at him.

“You dressed up to come visit me?” he asked, looking from her to her father.

“It was my graduation today,” Niki said.

Blair grimaced. “Damn! I meant to come. I really did. I even got you a present.” He patted his pockets. “Oh, hell, it’s in my desk. Just a minute.”

He managed to stagger over to the desk without falling. He dredged out a small wrapped gift. “But you can’t open it until I’m sober,” he said, putting it in her hands.

“Oh. Well, okay,” she said. She cocked her head. “Are you planning to have to run me down when I open it, then?”

His eyes twinkled. “Who knows?”

“We’d better go before he changes his mind,” her father said blithely.

“I won’t,” Blair promised. “There’s too damned much available liquor here. You only keep cognac and Scotch whiskey,” he reminded his friend.

“I’ve had Edna hide the bottles, though,” her father assured him.

“I’ve had enough anyway.”

“Yes, you have. Come on,” Niki said, grabbing Blair’s big hand in hers.

He followed her like a lamb, not even complaining at her assertiveness. He didn’t notice that Todd and Jameson were both smiling with pure amusement.

* * *

WHEN THEY GOT back to Catelow, and the Ashton ranch, Niki led Blair up to the guest room and set him down on the big bed.

“Sleep,” she said, “is the best thing for you.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “I haven’t slept for days,” he confessed. “I’m so tired, Niki.”

She smoothed back his thick, cool black hair. “You’ll get past this,” she said with a wisdom far beyond her years. “It only needs time. It’s fresh, like a raw wound. You have to heal until it stops hurting so much.”

He was enjoying her soft hand in his hair. Too much. He let out a long sigh. “Some days I feel my age.”

“You think you’re old?” she chided. “We’ve got a cowhand, Mike, who just turned seventy. Know what he did yesterday? He learned to ride a bicycle.”

His eyebrows arched. “Are you making a point?”

“Yes. Age is only in the mind.”

He smiled sardonically. “My mind is old, too.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have had children,” she lied, and felt guilty that she was glad about it. “Sometimes they make a marriage work.”

“Sometimes they end it,” he retorted.

“Fifty-fifty chance.”

“Elise would never have risked her figure to have a child,” he said coldly. “She even said so.” He grimaced. “We had a hell of a fight after the Christmas I spent here. It disgusted me that she’d go to some party with her friends and not even bother to call to see how I was. She actually said to me the money was nice. It was a pity I came with it.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said with genuine sympathy. “I can’t imagine the sort of woman who’d marry a man for what he had. I couldn’t do that, even if I was dirt poor.”

He looked up into soft, pretty gray eyes. “No,” he agreed. “You’re the sort who’d get down in the mud with your husband and do anything you had to do to help him. Rare, Niki. Like that hothouse orchid pin I gave you for Christmas.”