She slid the window open and he did the same. “I don’t want to take your parking place,” she said. Because the rest of the garage was filled with bicycles and kayaks and other sports paraphernalia, there was room for only one car.

“You’re the one who has to get up early. It’s supposed to rain in the morning and I want you to be warm and dry for your trip.”

That was really sweet of him. Since she’d had enough of cold and wet for this century, she accepted his offer.

She opened her door to find Nero right there, waiting excitedly for her to exit the car. The dog did seem to like her, though she couldn’t imagine why. She hadn’t given him one bit of encouragement.

“Nero,” Russ said sternly, “back off and let the lady move.”

Sydney looked into the hound’s sad, bloodshot eyes and she saw something there she’d never seen before. Nero suddenly had an identity, a personality. He was no longer merely a dog, to be lumped generically with all dogs. He was Nero, Russ’s dog, the first dog to ever like her.

She reached out one tentative hand and patted the top of his head. His fur was warm and soft. He seemed to enjoy the attention.

“I guess he’s not such a bad dog,” Sydney said.

Russ looked as pleased as she’d ever seen him, which was saying a lot.

His house was no less impressive on the inside. The focal point was a great room with a fireplace in the center that heated both a den area and a dining room. A large kitchen opened out to both areas. A wall of glass looked out onto the deck and ultimately out to the lake. Everywhere were the earthy tones of wood and stone-the floors, the high-beamed cathedral ceiling, the walls. It was almost as if the house had spring directly from the earth without human intervention.

Russ took her on a brief tour while Nero followed them around, his toenails clicking against the wood floors.

“This is amazing.”

“Thanks. I built a lot of it myself, though I had an architect friend refine my plans. Bert and a couple of the guys from town helped with some of the major stuff.”

Sydney turned slowly, taking it all in. The furniture had a slightly worn, comfortable look, as did the rugs. The place didn’t have the appearance of a professional decorator, but it all worked.

“Why don’t you sit down and put your feet up?” Russ suggested. “I’ll get us some wine and a snack. Our reservation isn’t until eight-thirty, so we have time.”

How civilized. A late dinner. So not everyone in Linhart opted for the early-bird special and went to bed with the chickens.

Russ showed Sydney to the most comfortable-looking chair in the den. She sat down with a sigh and put her feet on the footstool. Ah, heaven. She hadn’t realized how much her ankle had been hurting until she got off it.

It took only a moment for Russ to get a fire going, with the help of a gas starter.

“Now, that’s my kind of fireplace,” Sydney said. “I think even I could start this fire. No kindling, no newspaper, no using a zillion matches.”

“It’s nice,” Russ agreed. “It rarely gets cold enough down here that a fire makes sense. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She heard him going into the kitchen and rustling around. It sounded like maybe he was giving Nero food and water. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a wine bottle being uncorked. He returned with two glasses filled with white wine and handed her one.

“Authentic Texas wine,” he announced.

She eyed it dubiously. “No kidding?” It looked like normal wine. “What shall we toast to?”

Russ raised his glass. “To…civilization. Much as I love roughing it in the woods, I don’t mind creature comforts, either.”

“To civilization,” Sydney agreed. They touched glasses and each took a sip of the wine. It was cold and dry and exactly what she needed. “Mmm, not half bad.”

Russ sat on one end of the sofa. “I happened to look out the window at the store earlier and saw you coming out of Rose’s dress shop. What did you think?”

Had he just “happened” to be looking? Or had he been watching for her? It pleased her enormously to think he’d been anxious for her to return.

“It’s a very nice shop,” she said. “Rose is a lovely lady and she helped me pick out the perfect dress for tonight, on sale.”

“It must have taken you quite a while to find what you wanted,” Russ said. “Either that, or it took you forever to get packed up and check out of the Periwinkle. I was starting to think you’d driven back to Austin after all.”

“Oh, I didn’t spend all that time shopping. I had my nails done.” She wiggled her red nails at him.

Russ went very still. “You did?”

“Yes, and don’t look like a scared rabbit. I met your mother and she’s absolutely delightful. I did not breathe a word about money or Sammy Oberlin or anything like that. I’m afraid she got it into her head that I’m your new girlfriend and I didn’t disabuse her of the notion. I thought it would be simpler for her to believe that. And it’s a little bit true. I mean, we are going out on a date.”

Russ relaxed. “So what did you talk about?”

“About the latest hairstyles and fashion and what it was like living in New York and the fact that she’d like grandbabies.”

Russ pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re kidding.”

“Has she not mentioned that to you?” Sydney asked innocently.

“Actually, no, she hasn’t. I had no idea she’d ever be interested in being a grandmother. I thought the idea would horrify her if it ever happened.”

“Oh, I expect it’ll happen,” Sydney said. “Some lucky girl will snag you and fill this house with little boys and girls. You can take them camping and teach them how to fish and canoe and survive on nothing but acorns and a book of matches.”

Russ laughed.

Sydney wanted to cry.

The picture she’d painted was more than slightly appealing. She could easily see Russ with a little boy, one with his same gold-streaked hair, their heads bent over a fishing line as Russ taught his son how to bait a hook. What really hurt was imagining a little girl with her own features-something she knew could never be.

She felt an unexpected ache in her chest, which surprised her. She’d never felt a particular affinity for children and figured she simply wasn’t born with a lot of maternal instincts. But for the first time in her life she knew she wanted to have children someday. She wanted to share that bond of parenthood with a good man, someone who would provide the nurturing and companionship that Russ himself had lacked as a child.

“Oh, I have some cheese and crackers to tide us over,” Russ said suddenly. He set his wine down and jumped up, as if someone had lit his fuse. She wondered if the talk of children had made him feel any disquieting thoughts. He seemed the type of guy who would like kids, but maybe he wasn’t.

She heard more rustling in the kitchen, but this time when he came back to the den he had a cutting board loaded up with some squares of cheddar cheese, a pile of wheat crackers and an apple sliced into thin wedges.

Sydney’s stomach grumbled. The improvised lunch they’d shared on the trail-a couple of hastily chewed granola bars and some nuts and raisins-had been many hours ago, and she’d expended a lot of calories since then. She tried not to fall on the snack like a ravenous wolf.

“Be sure and save room for dinner,” Rush cautioned her.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll find room for a good steak. Three days of camping food and I’m ready to go out and rustle up my own cow and eat it whole.”

Sydney was feeling marginally human again. Her foot had stopped throbbing, too. But if they had dinner reservations at eight-thirty, she should get moving; she had some work ahead of her to get presentable.

Russ showed her to the master suite. The bath was five times the size of the tiny bathroom at the cabin. It was all done in navy blue tile with chrome accents, and the shower was definitely big enough for two. She thought briefly of inviting Russ to join her, but if she did they’d never make it to dinner. Maybe later.

Later? She was running out of later. She could spend many more days exploring Russ Klein, his body, his mind, his soul. A few hours weren’t going to do it.

“You don’t by any chance have a blow-dryer, do you?” she asked, looking at her bird’s nest of a hairdo in the mirror. If she didn’t make a concerted effort to straighten it, it went into a wild array of out-of-control curls.

“Actually, I do.” He opened several drawers in the vanity until he came up with it.

“Hmm, what girlfriend left that behind?”

“How do you know it’s not mine?”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on. You’re just not the blow-dryed type.”

“Actually, her name was Deirdre. But she left it at my old place-she never stayed here. She was long gone by the time I moved in here.”

Sydney felt a surge of jealousy that some other woman had enjoyed sleepovers with Russ. He’d been right, he was painfully honest. Most men wouldn’t willingly reveal information about an old girlfriend.

But that unwelcome and inappropriate feeling quickly dissipated. That woman wasn’t here now. She was. And she wasn’t going to let her few remaining hours with Russ be wasted with petty jealousy.

Once she had the bathroom to herself, she washed the trail grime from her body, scrubbing until she was pink. She shampooed her hair again, even though it had been washed just that morning.

Thank God for Deirdre, Syndey thought with a smile as she dried her hair until it was smooth and almost straight.

She primped as much as she could with her travel makeup case from her purse. She slipped into the new dress and put on some understated gold jewelry. New stockings and her comfortable brown pumps completed her outfit. With one light spritz of perfume, she exited the bedroom suite and went looking for her man. Hers for the evening, anyway.