„Are you vacationing business executives always so condescending to the local peasantry?“

There was an edge on the darkly timbered voice that made Kalinda wonder if her new acquaintance might not appreciate knowing he was merely a means of getting through a difficult evening.

„You seem to eat rather well for a peasant,“ she murmured, glancing pointedly at the sizzling trout „Off the land, as it were.“

He grinned, a slashing, faintly predatory expression which sent a trickle of unease through her. Kalinda deliberately banished the unwelcome sensation. Rand Alastair was no threat to her and certainly not her chief concern.

„The trout may be free, but how do you know I didn’t spend my last cent on the wine in a desperate effort to impress you?“

„Did you?“

„Not quite,“ he admitted, casting a rueful look at the bottle of Chardonnay chilling nearby.

„I didn’t think so. That little gallery you run in town appears to be bringing in enough to keep you from starving to death,“ Kalinda commented.

„You sound as if you don’t understand how that’s possible,“ he retorted, examining the trout with a critical eye and giving the pan a gentle shake.

„Well, your hours do seem a bit erratic. And even if they were regular there doesn’t seem to be a lot of potential customers up here.“

„During the winter we get a very well-to-do ski crowd.“

„Ah. I understand. It’s a seasonal business.“

„The gallery? A bit Not that I let it affect my erratic business practices unduly. I get in my share of skiing!“

Kalinda shook her head. „Well, each to his own. You seem to live a very relaxed sort of lifestyle.“

„Exactly. Just as you’re supposed to do when you come up here. But you’re not, are you?“

„Relaxed? At the moment I’m very comfortable,“ she countered firmly, taking another sip of the icy highball and preparing to parry his probing questions.

„Oh, you look the part, all right Very cool and elegantly casual. But there’s something about you that doesn’t seem really relaxed. You’re not nervous of me, by any chance?“ he demanded interestedly.

„Of course not!“ Her light laughter was genuine.

„You don’t have to be so emphatic about it!“ he growled wryly.

„Sorry,“ she mocked contritely. „I forgot about the ever-present male ego.“

Rand shot her a quick, perusing glance as he hefted the pepper mill. „Tell me the truth,“ he grumbled humorously, „did you accept my offer of dinner because I represent a change of pace from your usual run of admirers?“

„Isn’t that what a vacation is for? A change of pace?“ she chuckled, enjoying the banter.

„I knew it,“ he groaned dramatically. „I’m fated to be a vacation fling!“

„Don’t worry,“ Kalinda smiled. „Giving me dinner doesn’t exactly put you into the category of a fling!“

„Good,“ he said smoothly. „Because we artistic types prefer to think in terms of affairs, not flings!“

Kalinda’s gray eyes went a little cold. „I’m afraid having dinner is not a prelude to an affair, either,“ she informed him quite firmly.

He watched her curiously for a moment, raising his own golden drink for a sip. „You don’t like the idea of being the mistress of an artist-fisherman?“

„Not particularly!“ The haughty tone was cool and definite.

„But all artists have mistresses. It’s part of the mystique,“ he explained helpfully.

She let her budding annoyance show in her voice as Rand turned back to the trout. „Perhaps you can consider our association as a change of pace for yourself, then,“ she suggested deliberately.

„Yes, ma’am,“ he agreed humbly. Once again Kalinda felt a moment of unease. She had been quite certain since meeting Rand Alastair that she, knew exactly what she was dealing with. But little things kept taking her by surprise. It was unsettling.

„Think of it as a case of two ships passing in the night,“ she advised blandly.

„A pity. I’ve been weaving artistic fantasies since I looked up and saw you scowling at me in the door of the shop,“ he grinned, reaching for plates on which to dish up the fish.

„Are you an artist?“ she questioned, deciding it was time to switch conversational topics. „Or do you just run the gallery?“

„I dabble,“ he admitted, setting the food on the redwood table and lifting the wine out of the chiller.

„In what?“ she asked, getting out of the lounger and coming across to join him at the table. The combination of crisp salad, fresh trout, and grilled corn was whetting her appetite as no restaurant meal could have done.

„Pottery,“ he replied succinctly, taking his seat „I did the piece you bought this afternoon.“

„You did! Why didn’t you say something? It’s lovely! I adore art that serves a purpose,“ she confided. „I know that’s not a proper approach, but I was born with this depressingly practical streak. I like things to be both functional and beautiful. Fm going to get a lot of use out of that bowl.“

„Good,“ he said cheerfully. „I fee! exactly the same way. Perhaps I’m more properly described as a crafts-person than an artist?“

„A meaningless distinction,“ Kalinda declared regally, going to work delicately on the trout „Why should useful art be downgraded to a ‘craft’?“

„My sentiments exactly,“ he smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. „I’ll show you some of the other pieces I’ve done after dinner. That is, if you’d like to see them?“

She met his encouraging glance and smiled warmly. „Of course, I would.“

A short, potent silence hung between them for an instant as they looked at each other. Kalinda found herself swallowing with a new twinge of uncertainty. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t interested in this man except as a casual dinner date. Why this new restlessness which had begun to temporarily replace the nervousness she’d been experiencing? This new sensation had nothing at all to do with her plans for the coming weekend. The confrontation with David Hut-ton still awaited her. It should be the uppermost concern in her mind. Yet here she was being subtly overtaken by an altogether different mood.

Irritably she gave a mental shrug and made a deliberate effort to pull back from the spell she sensed her host was trying to weave. They were exactly what she’d described a few minutes earlier, two strangers who happened to encounter each other briefly but who shared nothing lasting or binding. A casual dinner engagement.

„I’ll bet you’re telling yourself I’m not your type,“ Rand murmured easily, taking a bite off the corn cob. He didn’t appear concerned by his accurate guess.

„Why not?“ she countered breezily. „If you’re honest with yourself, you’d be saying the same thing. We are two very different kinds of people, aren’t we, Rand?“ Firmly she tried to make him acknowledge that basic fact.

„Who can say? We’ve hardly gotten to know each- other. Even if that were so, would it matter?“

„Oh, yes, it matters,“ she nodded.

„Meaning that you’re much too practical to risk getting involved with a man who doesn’t fit readily into your lifestyle?“

Kalinda decided it was time to take charge of the situation. Taking charge was something she did instinctively and well. „How long have you worked with pottery, Rand?“

He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether or not to let her change the topic. And then he lifted one smoothly muscled shoulder as if it wasn’t all that important, after all.

„Nearly two years. I have a kiln in my workshop over there.“ He indicated a small building behind the house. „Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk about us?“

„Very sure,“ she smiled coolly.

„What can a host do except defer to the wishes of his guest?“ he whispered gallantly.

„Thank you,“ Kalinda retorted with the self-possession that comes from regularly having her wishes deferred to by others. „The trout is delicious.“

They lingered over dinner as the waning summer sun settled behind the mountain, casting the lake and its environs into shadows. The tall pine and fir among which the house nestled rustled lightly in the faint breeze and the bottle of Chardonnay slowly emptied. It was turning into a very pleasant evening, Kalinda decided, wondering how that could be when she had so much on her mind. But tonight Rand Alastair was making it possible for her to put her doubts and worries about the weekend aside for a while. She was grateful to him for it.

He displayed his pottery with an unaffected pleasure later after Kalinda had helped him clear the table and carry the dishes into the modern, compact kitchen. She went from piece to piece, genuinely admiring the warm colors, rich glazes, and original design.

„You’re very talented,“ she remarked, carefully setting down the small pot she was holding and wondering privately how he could possibly make a living off the pottery and the gallery. She knew a lot about business, even if she didn’t know a great deal about the specific business of running a small art and craft store.

„It’s a hobby,“ he murmured as she turned around to face him. He was standing very close behind her, much closer than she had realized and Kalinda found herself swinging softly against his chest His arms were around her even as she opened her Bps to apologize. The impact sent a small shock through her and her gray eyes widened.

„I'm sorry,“ she managed, suddenly, fiercely aware of the warmth and strength in his lean, hard body. „I didn’t realize you were standing so near…“

„My fault entirely,“ he assured her, his arms tightening around her, pulling her closer with a forcefulness she would have said earlier wasn’t in character. „I've been looking for an excuse to kiss you all evening…“