The Enemy's Daughter. Linda Turner

      Far from offended, he just laughed, and that only irritated Lise all over again. There was nothing so frustrating as a man who refused to be insulted. Damn the man, why did he have to be so likable? Couldn’t he tell she wanted nothing to do with him?

      Yeah, right, a sarcastic voice drawled in her head. When was he supposed to realize that? Before or after you told him your life story?

      Clamping her teeth on an oath, she swore she wasn’t going to say another word the rest of the way to town, and she was acutely aware that Steve seemed to enjoy watching her struggle to keep that promise to herself. Openly studying her, he made no attempt to hide his grin when a kangaroo bounced across the road a hundred yards in front of them and she had to press her lips tightly together to keep from making a comment.

      Damn, she was something! he thought in growing admiration. Strong and sassy and spunky. He liked that in a woman. She stood up for herself and didn’t take garbage from a man. She had no idea how that appealed to him. Delighted, he almost told her this wasn’t the way to discourage him, but where was the fun in that? Settling back to enjoy himself, he let the silence stretch between them and wondered how long it would be before she broke it.

      He didn’t have to wait long.

      The wind suddenly picked up speed, and in the time it took to blink, they found themselves driving through the middle of a small dust storm. Swearing, Lise immediately lifted her foot from the accelerator, turned on her lights and slowed to a crawl. “I hope another roo doesn’t jump out in front of us,” she muttered, peering through the dust that surrounded them like fog. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

      “I guess you have a lot of dust storms out here,” he said casually, his eyes dancing with amusement as he glanced at his watch to see how long it took her to realize she’d broken her silence. “There’s nothing to block the wind.”

      “It’s something you learn to live with,” she retorted. “When I was a kid, we got hit with a bad one one year when we were on roundup. It was awful. We ate dust for three days afterward.”

      “You were out in the bush when it hit? What’d you do?”

      “There’s nothing you can do but keep your head down and your face covered and try to get to shelter. The trick is not to get turned around in the storm. Sometimes it’s better to just hunker down and wait it out right where you are.”

      “Sounds like a blizzard, only in reverse. I bet that blowing sand can hurt like hell.”

      “It feels like you’ve been rubbed raw with a piece of sandpaper,” she replied, grimacing. “It gets between your teeth and in places you don’t want to th—” Apparently realizing just how personal the conversation had grown again, she snapped her teeth shut.

      Glancing at his watch, Steve chuckled. Three minutes. And Roo Springs was still eighty miles away. If she kept not talking to him at this rate, he’d know everything there was to know about the lady by the time they reached town.

      Roo Springs might have been classified a town by outback standards, but it was really little more than a wide spot in the road collecting dust. There were no springs, no pond, not even a water tower to justify the place’s name. There was a grocery store, a hardware and station supply store, as well as a vet who worked out of his home. A small bank and post office shared the only brick building in town, and a gas station and restaurant made up the rest of the business district, if you could call it that. With a dozen or more houses huddled in the dirt, it looked hot, weather-beaten and miserable.

      Steve hadn’t seen much to recommend the place when he’d hitchhiked through there on his way to the Pear Tree Station, and a second visit did little to change his mind. If there’d just been something besides a few dusty gum trees to add a little more color, he might have found it more appealing, but there was nothing. No greenery, no flowers, no color. Baking in the late morning sun, the entire town was nothing but a dull reddish-brown blob.

      In spite of that, however, it was a booming little metropolis, and it was easy to see why. Gas stations were few and far between in that region of the outback, and cars and pickups were lined up halfway down the street, waiting for their chance to fill up. And those who didn’t need gas were stocking up on groceries and ranch and household supplies.

      When just about everyone they passed recognized Lise and threw up a hand in greeting as she drove past, Steve was surprised. She was over a hundred miles from home! But when he thought about it, he realized it only made sense. When you lived out in the middle of nowhere, you had to go where the stores were for supplies. Lise had probably been coming to town with Cookie for groceries since she was a little girl—and so had the rest of her neighbors.

      “Looks like you’re pretty popular around here,” he told her as he opened the door to the station supply store for her. Following her inside, he arched a brow at the sight of the man across the store from them. “Who’s the tall skinny dude at the counter? He’s so happy to see you, he looks like he could kiss you.”

      Apparently surprised that he’d opened the door for her, she glanced up and nearly burst out laughing when she saw who he was talking about. “Fred kiss me? I don’t think so! He’s just happy to see me because he knows I’m going to spend a lot of money in here.”

      Far from amused, he frowned. “Don’t sell yourself short. Why wouldn’t he want to kiss you? Is he married?” When she shook her head, he growled, “Then what’s his problem? You’re a damn attractive woman. Is he blind or what?”

      He made no effort to keep his voice down, and he didn’t care if everyone in the store heard him.

      Color stinging her cheeks, she looked as if she wanted to sink right through the floor. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “Around here, I’m just one of the guys.”

      Steve could already see that for himself. And he didn’t like it one little bit. As Lise walked up and down the aisles collecting the supplies she would need for the roundup, none of the men who greeted her even tipped their hats at her or showed her the least courtesy. When he’d opened the door for her, at least two more men could have done the same thing before he caught up with her, but they let it slam shut behind them without even offering to hold it partially open for her. Steve had never seen anything like it in his life. What the hell was wrong with Australian men?

      Irritation glinting in his gray eyes, he almost asked her, but he never got the chance. Their cart filled with the smaller items on her list, they stopped in the fencing department to see about getting metal fence posts and wiring brought to the loading dock so they could transfer it to the truck. Before they could find a clerk, however, they found their path blocked by a group of cowboys telling jokes.

      Greeting Lise with a broad smile, a lean, bronzed man who looked as tough as boot leather said, “Hey, Lise, did you hear the one about the chicken farmer and the sex education teacher? The teacher had this thing about feathers….”

      Encouraged by wide, expectant grins and masculine chuckles, he began to tell a joke that should have never made its way outside a locker room. Outraged, Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Was the jackass raised in a barn, or what?

      Not caring that he was sticking his nose where some people might think it didn’t belong, he growled, “Hey, buddy, watch your mouth. There’s a lady present.”

      That should have been enough to shut the other man up. Instead, he looked around and said, “Where?”

      The loser wasn’t joking, Steve thought incredulously. The man didn’t even look at Lise, but instead glanced around to see if another woman had walked up while he wasn’t looking.

      Infuriated, Steve wanted to tear him apart. “What do you mean, where?” he thundered. “I was talking about Lise, you bastard!”

      To his credit, the other man suddenly realized what he’d said and had the grace to cringe with embarrassment. “Oh, God, Lise, I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking of—”

      “It’s okay, Gene,”