Terminal Guidance. Don Pendleton

the sort of man I want for you.”

      “What sort is that?”

      “A West Point graduate. Impeccable family name. You know I want only the best for my daughter.” Henry snatched a tomato wedge from Mrs. Olstad’s drain board. “I don’t want you to let this opportunity pass by. Living with your aunt has given you the idea that you can be happy as a spinster for the rest of your life.”

      “I don’t want to be a spinster, Papa. Really.” She could be as stubborn as he could be. After all, she was his daughter.

      Marie spotted a covered pitcher on the drain board and reached for it.

      “Leave that to Mrs. Olstad, Marie. We can’t leave our guest waiting.”

      “You go in alone, you old schemer.” Marie couldn’t summon up enough resentment to be truly angry. “I’m not going to marry him.”

      “You don’t know that for certain. No one knows where love will take root. Or how it will grow.” Henry stole another tomato wedge from the worktable. “Don’t be long, Marie. For me.”

      She began to protest but stopped at the sudden look of sadness in his eyes. It was a kind of sadness that she knew well. They hadn’t been close since she was a little girl. Could it be possible that he shared this same loneliness? This hurting ache for the bonds of family?

      There was a limp to his step as he marched from the room. The sunlight slanting through the window burnished the gray in his hair.

      Yes, it was time for a change between them. As long as he stopped trying to marry her to every West Point graduate he met.

      A movement through the window caught her attention. A huge black dog slipped out of her sight on the other side of the picket fence. Night Hawk’s dog.

      Night Hawk couldn’t be far. Her pulse soared. Her sadness drained away. Thinking of him and knowing he could be near sent a thrill through her that was brighter than the sun.

      No one knows where love will take root. Or how it will grow, Henry had said. And he was right.

      She dashed out the back door. The wind tangled her hair, and she wrestled it out of her eyes so she could see. Breathless with anticipation, she tripped down the steps and raced along the path to the gate.

      But the lane was empty. There were no shadows, no dog and no dream man.

      He had passed this way. She could feel it in a way she couldn’t explain. Seeing him again was only a matter of time.

      Where was his will of steel? Night Hawk cursed himself as he drove the sickle through the waist-high grass. For the better part of two weeks, he’d thought of her. Every time he visited the fort to check on Devil’s injury. Each time Kammeo caught his gaze in the field. He hadn’t started working with the animal yet.

      He was afraid that would make him dream of the woman more.

      Fragrant stalks dropped to the mowed ground, and he swung again, taking down more grass. Sweat flew off his brow as he cut his way to the edge of the field. Winded, he leaned the blade against the fence and reached for the jug he’d left in the shade.

      Cool water poured down his throat and he swallowed until it was gone. More sweat ran down his face and chest. He’d been up since three this morning making hay while the good weather held.

      Meka’s low bark cut through the afternoon’s serenity. Night Hawk squinted into the sun and saw a figure crowning a low rise where earth and sun made illusion. There was a suggestion of a woman’s dark wavy hair and soft curves—Marie Lafayette.

      Night Hawk cursed. Not even twelve straight hours of hard work could drive the colonel’s daughter from his mind. He grabbed his shirt off the fence’s top rail and slung it over his shoulder.

      When he looked up, the illusion remained, with her long hair rippling, her green skirts swirling around her soft woman’s body—a body made for a man’s pleasure.

      Want drummed in his blood.

      Then Marie moved, dream became reality. She was breezing closer, bringing the sunlight with her. Meka barked again, and only a sharp command kept the dog from bounding over to greet their unwelcome guest.

      Night Hawk hardened his heart. He had to send her back to the fort. It was the right thing to do—no, it was the only thing to do.

      “I came to see Kammeo.” She stepped out of the sunbeams and offered him a shy smile. “Would you let me watch while you train her sometime?”

      Night Hawk pulled on his shirt and drew it down over his sun-bronzed chest. “What are you doing out here on your own? It’s dangerous.”

      “The bear was caught this morning. I’m perfectly safe.” She held out her hand to let the dog scent her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”

      “You didn’t.” He snared the empty jug and then whistled to his dog, ordering Meka to heel. “Come, we’ll take you home.”

      “I came to visit my mare. I didn’t see her in the pasture.” She lifted her skirts and breezed after him, her dainty feet hardly touching the ground. “I came through the woods along the lakeshore. I’ve never taken such a beautiful walk.”

      Every step she took beat through him. Why? Why was his physical reaction to this woman so turbulent?

      “The sunlight sparkled on the lake,” she continued, “and the woods were enchanting, like something out of a fairy tale. I’ve never been in such a wild place.”

      She was beauty, the finest he’d ever seen and far more enchanting than this tiny piece of the world. “You’re not afraid of the wilderness?”

      “Afraid? It’s amazing. Except for the meadows and the lake, and the farmers’ fields of course, the trees go on forever. I’ve never been serenaded to sleep by wolves.”

      “Wait until you hear the cougars.”

      “They’re musical, too?”

      “Let’s just say the sound might make you miss the quiet back home.” Merriment twinkled a little in his dark eyes.

      “Between the birds that hunt at night, the bugs that chirp and sound like they’re the size of bears in the dark and the wolves braying, I’m sleeping blissfully.”

      “I bet you are.” Night Hawk unlatched the wooden gate and stood there, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. “It’s quieter in the city.”

      “Astonishingly.”

      He held the gate open for her. Her skin tingled as she swept past him. Maybe it was because she remembered seeing his bronzed chest, bare and glistening at the sun’s touch. Or maybe it was the man.

      While he latched the gate, the big black dog bounded toward her, tongue lolling and sharp teeth bared in a doggy smile.

      “Meka! Sit,” Night Hawk ordered.

      The dog launched into the air and placed his front paws on Marie’s shoulders. His tongue swiped across her chin in a friendly greeting, and delight filled her. She couldn’t resist hugging him. “I never had a dog when I was growing up.”

      “Down, Meka.” Night Hawk snapped his fingers and strode close enough to cast her in his shadow.

      The dog swiped his tongue across her knuckles and then obeyed. “He’s a ferocious one, I can tell.”

      “And he doesn’t like strangers.” Night Hawk quirked one dark brow and his mouth narrowed as if he were trying not to laugh. “Especially women.”

      “I can tell. He’s also the smallest dog I’ve ever seen.”

      “If you compare him to a bear. Meka, sit.” Night Hawk snapped his fingers and the huge dog sank to his haunches, tongue hanging out, a sparkle in his eye, imploring to be stroked.

      Marie couldn’t resist