First Impressions

over the last couple of years. He understood pressure, success, duty, but the meaning of simple enjoyment had become lost somewhere beneath the rest.
    Let the vice president of Riverton Construction, Inc., run the show for a few months, he mused. He was on vacation. And let the little blonde with her puppy-dog eyes keep on her own land, he added, pounding in another nail. He didn’t want any part of the good-neighbor policy.
    When he heard leaves rustling underfoot, Vance turned. Seeing Shane striding back up the path, he muttered a long stream of curses in a low voice. With the exaggerated care of a man greatly aggravated, he set down his hammer.
    “Well?” He aimed cold blue eyes and waited.
    Shane didn’t pause until she had reached the foot of the steps. She was through being intimidated. “I realize you’re
extremely
busy,” she began, matching his coolness ice for ice, “but I thought you might be interested in knowing there’s a nest of copperheads very close to the footpath. On
your
edge of the property,” she added.
    Vance gave her a narrowed glance, weighing the possibility of her fabricating the snakes to annoy him. She didn’t budge under the scrutiny, but paused just long enough to let the silence hang before she turned. She’d gone no more than two more yards when Vance let out an impatient breath and called her back.
    “Just a minute. You’ll have to show me.”
    “I don’t
have
to do anything,” Shane began, but found herself impotently talking to the swinging screen door. Briefly, she wished that she’d never seen the nest, or had simply ignored it and continued down the path to her own home. Then, of course, if he’d been bitten, she would have blamed herself.
    Well, you’ll do your good deed, she told herself, and that will be that. She kicked a rock with the toe of her shoe and thought how simple it would have been if she’d stayed home that morning.
    The screen door shut with a bang. Looking up, Shane watched Vance come down the steps with a well-oiled rifle in his hands. The sleek, elegant weapon suited him. “Let’s go,” he said shortly, starting off without her. Gritting her teeth, Shane followed.
    The light dappled over them once they moved under the cover of trees. The scent of earth and sun-warmed leaves warred with the gun oil. Without a word, Shane skirted around him to take the lead. Pausing, she pointed to a pile of rocks and brown, dried leaves.
    “There.”
    After taking a step closer, Vance spotted the hourglass-shaped crossbands on the snakes. If she hadn’t shown him the exact spot, he never would have noticed the nest . . . unless, of course, he’d stepped right on it. An unpleasant thought, he mused, calculating its proximity to the footpath. Shane said nothing, watching as he found a thick stick and overturned the rocks. Immediately the hissing sounded.
    With her eyes trained on the angry snakes, she didn’t see Vance heft the rifle to his shoulder. The first shot jolted her. Her heart hammered during the ensuing four, her eyes riveted to the scene.
    “That should do it,” Vance muttered, lowering the gun. After switching on the safety, he turned to Shane. She’d turned a light shade of green. “What’s the matter?”
    “You might have warned me,” she said shakily. “I wish I’d looked away.”
    Vance glanced back to the gruesome mess on the side of the path. That, he told himself grimly, had been incredibly stupid. Silently, he cursed her, then himself, before he took her arm.
    “Come back and sit down.”
    “I’ll be all right in a minute.” Embarrassed and annoyed, Shane tried to pull away. “I don’t want your gracious hospitality.”
    “I don’t want you fainting on my land,” he returned, drawing her into the clearing. “You didn’t have to stay once you’d shown me the nest.”
    “Oh, you’re very welcome,” she managed as she placed a hand on her rolling stomach. “You are the most ill-mannered, unfriendly man I’ve ever met.”
    “And I thought I was on my best behavior,” he murmured, opening the screen door. After pulling Shane inside, Vance led her through the huge empty room toward the kitchen.
    After a glance at the dingy walls and uncovered floor, Shane sent him what passed as a smile. “You must give me the name of your decorator.”
    She thought he laughed, but she could have been mistaken.
    The kitchen, in direct contrast to the rest of the house, was bright and clean. The walls had been papered, the