First Impressions

murmured, and Donna’s eyes sharpened. “They’re his until he’s ready to tell me about them.”
    “Shane . . .” Donna’s fingers tightened on hers. “Be careful, please.”
    A little surprised by the tone, Shane smiled. “I will. Don’t worry. Maybe I am more trusting than most, but I have my defenses. I’m not going to make a fool of myself.” Unconsciously, she glanced out the window again, seeing the path to his house in her mind’s eye. “He’s not a simple man, Donna, but he is a good one. That much I’m sure of.”
    “All right,” Donna agreed. Silently, she vowed to keep a close eye on Vance Banning.
    For a long time after Donna left, Shane sat in the kitchen. The rain continued to pound. The steady drip from the ceiling plopped musically into the pan. She was aware of how reckless her words to Donna had been, yet she felt better having said them out loud.
    No, she wasn’t as blindly confident as she appeared. Inside, she was terrified by the knowledge that she loved so irrationally. She was trusting, yes, but not naive. She understood there was a price to pay for trust, and that often it was a dear one. Yet she knew her choice had already been made—or perhaps she’d never had one.
    Rising, Shane switched off the lights and began to wander through the darkened house. She knew its every twist and turn, every board that creaked. It was everything familiar and comforting to her. She loved it. She knew none of Vance’s twists and turns, none of his secret corners. He was everything strange and disturbing. She loved him.
    If it had been a quiet, gentle love, she could have accepted it easily. But there was nothing quiet in the storm churning inside her. For all her energy and love of adventure, Shane had grown up in a slow, peaceful world where excitement was a run through the woods or a ride on the back of a tractor at haymaking. To fall suddenly in love with a stranger might seem romantic and wonderful in a story, but when it happened in real life, it was simply terrifying.
    Shane walked upstairs, habitually avoiding the steps that creaked or groaned. The rain was a hollow, drumming sound all around her, whipped up occasionally by the wind to fly at the windows. Her bare feet met bare wood with a quiet patter. A small bucket caught the drip in the center of the hall. Expertly, she skirted around it.
    Who was she to think all she had to do was to sit patiently by until Vance fell in love with her? she asked herself. After flipping on the light in her room, she went to stare at herself in the mirror. Was she beautiful? Shane asked her reflection. Alluring? With a half laugh, she rested her elbows on the dresser to look closer.
    She saw the dash of freckles, the large dark eyes and cap of hair. She didn’t see the stunning vitality, the temptingly smooth skin, the surprisingly sensual mouth.
    Was that a face to send a man into raptures? she asked herself. The thought amused her so, that the reflection grinned back with quick good humor. Hardly, Shane decided, but she wouldn’t want a man who looked only for a perfect face. No, she hadn’t the face or figure to lure a man into love had she wanted to. She had only herself and the love in her heart.
    Shane flashed the mirror a smile before she turned away to prepare for bed. She’d always thought love the ultimate adventure.

Chapter 6
    Weak sunlight filtered through the bad-tempered clouds. The creek was swollen from the rainfall so that it ran its course noisily, hissing and complaining as it rounded the bend at the side of Shane’s house. Shane was doing some complaining of her own.
    The day before, she had moved her car out of the narrow driveway so that the delivery truck could have easy access to the back porch. Not wanting to ruin the grass, she had parked in the small square of dirt her grandmother had used as a vegetable garden. Once the car had been moved, Shane had become involved with the unloading of lumber and had promptly forgotten it. Now, it was sunk deep in mud, firmly resisting all efforts to get it out.
    She pressed the gas lightly, tried forward, then reverse. She gunned the engine and swore. Slamming out of the driver’s side, Shane sloshed ankle-deep in mire as she stomped back to the rear tire. She gave it an accusing stare, then kicked it.
    “That’s not going to help,” Vance commented. He had been watching her for the last few minutes, torn somewhere between amusement and exasperation. And pleasure. There