"So where are we, exactly?" she asked.

"A deserted stretch of land." Mackenzie land, but Mac didn't think she was ready to hear his secrets just yet. "It goes for miles in either direction."

Squinting into the bright glare of the sun, she shaded her eyes with her hands. "And that large hotel in the distance?" She rolled onto her side for a better view.

"A place called The Resort."

"You're kidding."

"No, why?"

Her shoulders rose and fell. "It's where I'll be going for my conference," she murmured in a voice he had to strain to hear. A voice that told him how much she disliked the prospect.

That pleased him. The location of her conference was another story. The jig was up. Mac had never been into absentee management, and she'd know within an hour of check-in that he owned the place.

He pondered the unexpected news in silence, deciding how to use her conference location to his advantage. At the very least, now he could set the stage and tell her in his own setting, on his own terms. Once he'd thought things through, he couldn't believe his luck.

When she walked out of The Hungry Bear, she wouldn't be leaving him after all. As owner, he had access to all the guest registration cards. He knew exactly where to find her, and he had no intention of letting her get away.

"The conference you mentioned. It's at The Resort?"

"Yes." She settled herself more comfortably on the heavy woven blanket and eased herself backward, until she snuggled into him.

Her small backside wedged against his stomach and groin. He swallowed a groan, suppressing desire in favor of the information he wanted her to reveal. He had a number of business conferences scheduled for later in the week and he tried to recount the possibilities.

"Let me guess," he said. "You're an insurance salesman."

Her throaty laugh rumbled against his chest. "Funny, Mac. You already know I'm a financial planner. I'm attending workshops on financial gain and risk management."

"I knew there was a brain in that gorgeous head. So are you meeting clients or superiors there?"

"Both. The mornings and afternoons are filled with seminars that'll help me make wiser and safer investments for my clients. Then I'll take some clients to lunch, and my… boss will take me and some of the firm's larger clients to dinner."

He smoothed her long strands of hair out of his face, then rested his chin on her shoulder. "So tell me. When you were a little girl, did you dream of being a financial planner?"

She laughed at the deliberate absurdity of the question. "I dreamed of being a ballerina, then when I turned out to be uncoordinated, I dreamed of being married. Love, a fairytale wedding and happily ever after."

"And the financial thing?"

"Came about when I realized a savvy woman doesn't rely on a man to support her. And because my college grades showed I had an uncanny ability with numbers. I invested some money my father had put in my name when I was young. I made a nice, tidy sum. Turns out I was good at taking risks, too."

He grinned, thinking how much they had in common. He'd taken a risk investing all the family money in turning the small bed-and-breakfast into a first-class resort and spa. He could have lost everything.

Samantha's biggest risk seemed to be letting herself get close to him. He glanced over. At least she'd begun to open up. Now that he knew he could surprise her at The Resort and tell her everything there, he'd bought himself more time.

His gut told him he had her heart, but he had yet to win her trust.

"So tell me. What are your dreams, Mac?"

"I didn't think you wanted to know."

"I've shared mine, so fair is fair. Besides, what are dreams but fantasies, and we've already shared those."

Had they ever. Just the memory made him hard. He wanted to be inside her again, but the timing was wrong. If he broke off their conversation now, he'd lose Samantha for good. "Okay."

He'd never shared his dreams with anyone before and found it hard to know where to begin. When he'd sold off acres of his father's land to expand the hotel, he'd also kept in mind a promise he'd made. "I'd like to build a house on a wide-open stretch of land," he told her. This land.

"I can see why."

His father had wanted surplus acres kept in the family for future generations of Mackenzies. Mac had complied with that request, and though his sister still owned her land, she couldn't live there now. As for Mac, there'd been no reason to build a house for one person, and lately he'd begun doubting he'd contribute to the continuation of the Mackenzie name. Then a bedraggled female had stumbled into a bar and given him cause to rethink his future.

"A large house?" she asked.

At least she was interested. "As big as you want," he said.

"Mmm. Ranch-style," she murmured obviously getting into the fantasy. "Children?"

"One or two." With black hair and violet eyes.

"Two. No, make that three. Being an only child is lonely. Two boys and maybe a girl running through a real home decorated in beige, white and cocoa brown."

"My favorite colors," he said, glad she couldn't see his grin.

"Stylish," she continued. "But comfortable enough to live in without feeling stifled. Like you'll break something if you let loose and feel free."

"Is that the kind of place you grew up in?" he asked.

She stiffened. As if his question shattered the fantasy and reminded her she'd gone too far.

"I…"

His hand stroked up and down her arm. "Keep going," he whispered.

"I… I grew up in a beautiful home, but the house was full of things meant to be viewed, not touched. My mother loved fine things, my father loved indulging her."

She laughed, but the sound was strained. "Let me rephrase that. He loved her. Period. There wasn't much room left for me."

His grip on her arm tightened, as if he could reassure her with a touch, or infuse her with the love she'd been lacking up until now. "I'm sure your parents loved you," he said. How could they not?

"Of course they did. But it was just leftover affection, like whatever they could spare when they weren't together."

He thought about his sister and the fun, the laughter and pranks they'd played on each other. He recalled his parents' frustration with their children, but he also recalled their love. Love that included their kids as well as each other.

"Their loss." He didn't know what else to say, but he intended to make sure she never felt as lonely and vulnerable again.

"I know that… now."

"And you really want three kids?" he asked lightly, beginning a rhythmic lulling motion of his hand, encouraging her to answer.

"Yes." She rolled and he expected her to move away. Instead, she turned so she was facing him and brought her body flush against his. Her hands rose to cup his cheeks. "Do we have to talk anymore?" she asked.

He'd pushed her far enough. If he'd needed a sign that she wasn't ready to hear his secret, she'd just provided it. She'd given him enough for one day.

"No. There's too many other things we can do."

"I like the sound of that," she murmured.

He locked their hands together and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing the ring he'd bought that first day. Such a simple ring for people with such complicated lives, he thought. But it was that simple twisted band that made Samantha happy.

He pondered the irony of finding a woman content with sentiment instead of show and wondered how she'd react when he told her he could afford much more than the small ring that had captured her heart.

He'd tell her. After the rest of the week had passed and once he was back on his own turf. A woman who desired the fundamental things in life would surely understand why he'd omitted mentioning his wealth before getting to know her first.

One thing he knew for certain. She cared more for him than anything he could buy her.

Rolling onto his back, he brought her with him, so her body fit tight against his. His erection settled between her thighs.

"Ever make love in the great outdoors?" Her eyes glittered in the afternoon sun.

He laughed. "Does a balcony count?"

She shook her head. "Afraid not."

"Then the answer is no."

"I could rectify that." She shifted so his erection sat poised for entry, the only barrier between them their clothes.

Her sensual moan shook his common sense, but he managed to swallow a groan of assent. She smelled like his Samantha, a scent that aroused him beyond reason. Her hands shook in his and he knew she felt the same. Her body, hot and wanting, ground against him. For a woman filled with embarrassment in the beginning, she'd grown comfortable around him fast.

His gut told him this maneuver was meant to dodge emotional intimacy. His body, near to bursting, asked him who the hell cared. From somewhere, and he had to dig pretty damn deep, he found a remnant of self-control. "It's tempting, but I have to say no."

"Because we don't have protection? There are other ways to enjoy ourselves."

Because no matter how much he wanted her, he refused to let her hide her feelings and emotions behind sex. Again. "There's something I'd rather do," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow in eager expectation. "And that is?"

"Hold you." With a jerk of his hips, he dislodged her from her perch and rolled so he could capture her in his arms again. She squealed her displeasure, but he ignored her protest. Grasping her slender hips, he pulled her against him, her back solid against his erection.

"At least I know you want me," she whispered.

"Wanting isn't the issue."

"What is?"

"Being with you in the time we have left." Silence greeted him. Well, what had he expected? An undying declaration of love? An admission that she didn't want to leave? The honesty they'd shared today had been enough of a start.