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  Adam set Jeremy down, and the little boy skirted the edges of the kitchen, staying as far from Paige as possible. In the dining room he pointed to a chair, and Paige, who had followed him at a discreet distance, nodded. "Thank you."

  Adam came around behind her and pulled out her chair. She let him seat her; then he took his place beside her. Jeremy was on her left, perched on the far edge of his chair like a sparrow about to take flight.

  With a knife as wickedly sharp as a machete, Adam began to carve the roast lamb, while Mihi passed a platter of steamed carrots, parsnips and whole new potatoes. Then came a divided dish with a variety of salads. When Paige finally had the courage to look down at her plate, she saw a week's worth of calories.

  "I haven't seen so much food in one place since I left the States." She picked up her fork when she realized everyone else was already eating. "This looks and smells wonderful."

  "How have you been cooking?" Mihi asked, a frown distorting her forehead. "Have you discovered the secrets of Jane's old stove?"

  "No. I got just far enough to figure out that it was a stove." Paige tackled the lamb to find that it was as mildly flavored as the finest veal.

  "If you're not using the stove, what are you using?" Adam asked.

  "A can opener," she said wryly, "and the tearoom in town when I really get hungry."

  Mihi clucked disparagingly. "You could almost boil water on the steam radiators in that house. Use them to heat food for yourself."

  "That's something else I haven't figured how to work," Paige admitted.

  "You don't have any heat?"

  "It's supposed to be spring. And I hadn't planned to stay very long."

  Adam raised an eyebrow. "City girl," he said sweetly.

  Paige felt a peculiar rush of warmth at his words. He was teasing her, and the moment, free from cynicism and distrust, was very nice. "I freely admit it," she said, aiming her smile at him.

  Adam felt the smile like a punch in his stomach. Already he knew enough about Paige to know that smiles that unaffected were rare. She was relaxed, and she was enjoying herself. Considering her background, he wouldn't have thought it possible.

  "Adam will show you how to operate the heat and the stove," Mihi said firmly.

  "Will you show me how to cook, too?" she asked him.

  Mihi was incredulous. "You don't cook? Ann's daughter doesn't cook?"

  "Ann doesn't cook," Paige said, defending herself. "I've never seen Mother do anything more complicated than spread pate on a cracker."

  "Ah, once she was the finest cook in Waimauri. Her mother taught her, and her mother could take the toughest cut of mutton and make it tender enough to put on the queen's table."

  Paige tried to imagine such a thing. "Apparently she's been hiding her talents."

  "You really don't cook?" Adam asked.

  "I really don't. Do you?" Paige lifted her gaze from her plate to meet his. "Or don't Kiwi men stoop that low?"

  The smile he shot her would have been a nine on the Richter scale. Paige was almost bowled over. "I cook," he said. "Maybe one day I'll cook for you."

  The meal continued, with Jeremy sitting as far from Paige as possible and Mihi asking questions about Paige's reactions to New Zealand. It was only after they had all finished that Paige realized she still hadn't thanked Mihi for the sweater.

  Mihi giggled when she did, a lilting, girlish sound that momentarily transformed her into the Maori maiden she must once have been. "I'm glad you like it, and I hope it keeps you warm."

  "I'm wearing it now. In fact, I've hardly taken it off."

  Mihi waved aside her praise. "Will you call me Granny like Adam and Jeremy do?"

  Paige realized Adam was watching her intently, and, in her own way, Mihi was watching her, too. "I'd like that."

  Mihi dropped her napkin on the table and stood. "Good. Now I want to see you."

  Paige stood, too, unsure how this miracle was going to be accomplished. Hesitantly she followed Mihi into a large, comfortable room furnished with upholstered furniture supplemented by more of the antiques she had noticed earlier. Mini settled herself on the sofa, then patted the seat beside her.

  Paige sat, and Mini put her hands on her shoulders. Then she stroked her fingertips up Paige's neck to her face. Very slowly she began to explore her features. "There are only so many things I can tell from your voice," she murmured. "I want to be sure I know you." She laughed. "Ah, that worries you, does it? You don't like to have people know you. In that way, too, you're very like your mother. And like Adam."

  Paige tried not to stiffen, but she knew Mihi was picking up her tension. She wasn't comfortable being touched this way. Even at the rare moments of real intimacy in her life, she had resisted this kind of petting.

  "You have your mother's eyes and your father's nose. The mouth is your grandmother's." Mihi laughed again. "The chin is your own, child, unless it comes from your father's family."

  Paige realized Mihi was full of surprises. "You knew my father?"

  Mihi shook her head. "I saw him once, before I lost my sight. Life hasn't been simple for you, has it?"

  "It's not supposed to be, is it?"

  "Once it was simpler. People knew where they belonged—and to whom." Mihi lifted her hands to Paige's hair. "Lovely," she said admiringly. "Black."

  Paige wondered how she had known. "Yes."

  "And your eyes are dark, too."

  Paige nodded. She looked up and saw Adam, arms folded across his chest, leaning on the doorjamb watching them. Jeremy was peeking out from behind him.

  "Ko Hine-titama koe, matawai ana te whatu i te tirohanga."

  Paige was sure her confusion showed on her face because Mihi laughed, and Adam explained. "She said you are like the Dawn Maid. The eye glistens when gazing upon you. Granny enjoys keeping the old Maori proverbs alive."

  "She's as lovely as you said." Mihi turned in Adam's direction. "Now take her home and show her how to heat her house." Her hands fluttered to her side.

  "Thank you for everything." Paige felt disconnected from something important, but she didn't know what. On a whim she leaned over and kissed the old woman's cheek. "I'm very glad to know you."

  "Granny."

  "Granny." Paige stood.

  "Come back soon."

  "I'm going to leave Jeremy here." Adam pushed himself away from the doorjamb. "He could do with a nap."

  "No," the little boy wailed.

  "Yes," his father answered calmly. "I'll be back, e tama. I always come back."

  Jeremy wrapped his arms around his father's leg.

  "You know, Adam, I've been doing fine without heat. And I bought an electric blanket today, so I'll be comfortable at night." Paige eyed Jeremy's defiant little face and wished that it were some other woman who was going to take his father away.

  "He'll be fine." Adam bent over and pried Jeremy's fingers loose. "Jeremy, go to your room. Granny will tuck you in for your nap, and I'll be back by the time you wake up."

  Two crystalline teardrops spilled down the little boy's cheeks, but Adam ignored them. "I always come back," he repeated.

  Without another word, Jeremy fled the room.

  "Are you sure you should leave?"

  Paige's question was softly spoken, but Adam heard the distress behind it. He grimaced, knowing that at some point he was going to have to explain Jeremy's behavior. Irrationally he was angry at her for making it necessary. "If you're ready, we can go," he said, and he knew he sounded as irritated as he felt.

  Her chin lifted an inch. "I'm ready."

  * * *

  "You drive as though you're used to this side of the road."

  Paige spared Adam a quick glance before she focused on the road in front of her again. "I was educated in Switzerland. I learned to drive from an English count, the brother of a schoolmate, on one of my holidays. When I got back to the States, I had to be taught all over again. To this day I feel more at home with the steering wheel over here."

  Adam
shifted, his legs cramped. "You've seen a lot of the world, then."

  "Europe and some of Asia. This is my first trip to the Southern Hemisphere."

  Adam could have disputed that, but he didn't.

  "Have you traveled much?" Paige asked in return.

  "I've seen most of Europe, and I've spent holidays in Australia and Colorado."

  "Colorado?"

  "On a sheep ranch. Comparing techniques."

  Paige wondered how many American sheep ranchers were so well traveled. She was learning that people from this part of the world dealt with their relative isolation by taking long and varied holidays. They had a richness of experience and an appreciation for variety because of it.

  "Well, I think we're here." She pulled the little rental car to one side of the gravel drive and turned off the engine.

  Adam stared out the windshield at the small clapboard bungalow. "Are you finding the house comfortable, other than the temperature?"

  "Comfortable enough after I gave it a good cleaning."

  "You've cleaned it, you've bought an electric blanket. Are you planning to stay a while?"

  "I wasn't at first." Paige opened her door and stepped out into the sunshine. She finished explaining as they walked toward the house. "I didn't realize just how large the thermals were, or how potentially profitable. I thought I'd just look them over, relax a few days, then head back home."

  "Potentially profitable?"

  Paige thought about Hamish's offer for the first time since she had driven up to Adam's house. "Land is valuable, Adam." She realized she had used his given name, but somehow it seemed appropriate now. "My father always says its the only thing they're not making more of, though when I watch the way developers dredge our coasts, I wonder about that, too."

  "And you think the thermals might be valuable?"

  "Might be." Paige pushed the door open. There was no lock, no key to the little bungalow. She couldn't shake the feeling that she would walk in one day and find everything gone, but when she'd questioned someone in town about security, they had laughed and walked away muttering.

  "And what if they're not? What if you can only get a pittance for all your trouble? Will your trip here have been a waste of time?"

  "You know, when you ask a question, I always feel like you're really asking another." She hugged herself, suddenly chilly now that she was out of the sun. "Do you do that to disconcert me? I don't disconcert easily."

  "I ask questions to get answers. Isn't that the usual reason?"

  "Why don't you like me, Adam? Is it because I'm an American? I can't help that, any more than I can help the fact that a relative of my mother's died and left her this property."

  "There are things you can help."

  Now she was truly puzzled. It bothered her to be treated so abruptly. She had no reason to want his respect or affection, but she did anyway. She wondered what loneliness was doing to her good sense. "What things can I help?" she asked, poker-faced.

  "You can be sure the land's not exploited."

  Paige relaxed a little. She had been through enough discussions of this ilk to know what was coming. "Duvall Development has a policy of cooperating as fully as possible on any environmental concerns. We have an ecologist on our staff who does nothing except study the environmental impact of all our developments."

  "But you're not going to develop the thermals yourselves, are you?"

  "We take into consideration the reputation of any company we sell property to. And there must be laws in New Zealand like there are in most countries protecting the land."

  "Are there laws protecting legends, Miss Duvall?"

  She stared at him, thrown off guard. "Legends?"

  Adam took a deep breath. "I think you'd better show me your radiators, and I'll get started fixing them."

  She struggled to make sense of their conversation. "You ask questions under questions and expound in riddles. You're a frustrating man, Adam, and I really wish you'd stop calling me Miss Duvall."

  He was sure he didn't feel like smiling, but the familiar tightening of his mouth was unmistakable.

  "You're smiling at me," she warned. "You're going to ruin your image."

  Despite everything, he knew she was a very easy woman to smile at. That thought was enough to wipe the smile right off his face. "Your radiators?"

  Paige realized they were still standing in the hallway. She smothered a frustrated sigh. "There's one in the bedroom and one in the living room. But they're both turned on. I don't think that's where the trouble is."

  The trouble, it turned out, was in the complicated set of valves and dials on the back porch. Adam made a few adjustments, and the radiators began to hiss. "The heat comes from the thermals," he explained. "Years ago somebody sunk a bore nearby and piped the steam. You're heating your house for free."

  Paige thought about her conversation with Hamish. "I've been told that most of the energy in Rotorua is supplied that way."

  "Were you also told that in the last thirty years they've gone from 130 geysers down to six, and that dozens of natural springs and mud pools have disappeared? Some physicists believe that all the geysers are destined to stop in the next four years."

  Paige gave a low whistle. "What a shame that would be."

  "Wouldn't it?" Adam said cynically.

  "All that because they've harnessed the steam?"

  "That's the theory."

  "I can see why you might be worried about the thermals here," Paige conceded.

  "No you can't."

  She felt a surge of anger, something she rarely allowed herself. She had discovered a long time ago that anger gave other people power, and that was something she couldn't afford.

  She hesitated just long enough to get herself under careful control. "I appreciate your help," she said coldly. "I'd like to pay you for your time."

  "Would you?" Adam straightened and turned to her. "And would you like to pay me for guiding you back from the thermals, and for the jumper, and perhaps even for the meal we shared?"

  "If it would wipe that supercilious, holier-than-thou expression off your face, I certainly would."

  Adam's eyes narrowed, and Paige felt a flicker of alarm. Abruptly she remembered what a powerfully built man he was. Adam didn't move, however. Instead his mouth twitched, and then, unbelievably, he smiled again. "Holier than thou?"

  "I'm sorry," she murmured, no apology in her voice.

  "For what?"

  He was still smiling, and despite herself, Paige smiled, too. "For not adding that you're the most difficult, contrary man I've ever had the pleasure to know."

  "Pleasure?" He moved a little closer. "Has it been a pleasure...Paige?"

  "Not yet, but I have the most ridiculous feeling that if you let us, we might be friends."

  "Granny would certainly approve of that."

  "Well, what do you think? Shall we try to share more than sarcastic retorts, or are we both so jaded that it's not going to be worth the effort?"

  Unwillingly he felt himself being drawn to her. He wanted to put her in the category of rich American, out-to-own-the-world, but he couldn't. Beneath her aloof, elegant exterior there was a fragile woman who needed friendship and warmth and the security of the roots that had been denied her. Defeated, he rested his hands on her shoulders and drew her near. Then his nose and forehead touched hers. He could feel her stiffen, then relax, as if she had forced her muscles to respond. She smelled like spring flowers, and in the instant before he drew away, he knew the smooth, melting warmth of her skin.

  "Friends help each other because they need help," he said, his hands dropping to his sides.

  Paige tried to still her response to the hongi. She was lonely; Adam was a very attractive man. Her feelings were natural. "I appreciate your fixing the heat. Please let me know if I can return the favor."

  "You may have that chance."

  She tried to fathom his fathomless eyes. "When? How?"

  "It's too soon to say yet. But I may be c
oming to you with a proposition." He smiled lazily at the slight change in her expression. "A business proposition," he added. "If you'd do me the courtesy of listening, I'd consider it a favor returned."

  "I always listen to business."

  "Good." Adam stepped back. "Jeremy's waiting. I need to get home."

  "He won't be asleep."

  "What do you mean?"

  She was surprised that her thoughts had been said out loud. "Only that I remember being Jeremy's age, waiting for my parents to come home. Even if it was early morning before they got in, I'd stay awake until I heard them come down the hall. Then I'd finally shut my eyes." She wondered why she had shared that small piece of her childhood. She shrugged. "As worried as Jeremy was, he'll be awake when you get there."

  "Even when I'm there he rarely sleeps."

  Paige didn't know what to say, but Adam didn't seem to want to respond anyway. He started toward the door. "If you have any more trouble with the heat, I'll be glad to look at it again."

  He was gone before she even thought to offer him a ride home.

  Chapter 4

  No one could say that the Kiwis cut corners on phone booths. Paige stood in a wood-and-glass model, circa early twentieth century, and wondered if she ought to give a cocktail party while she was waiting for her call home to go through. The booth was large enough; in fact, she could almost envision a grand piano in the corner.

  She needed that kind of a lift. She wasn't looking forward to this discussion with her father. Carter Duvall was not a man who liked to be crossed, and Carter had said he didn't want her coming to New Zealand. "Let somebody else handle this one, Paige," he had told her somewhere between his desk and office door when she had brought it up. "I need you on more important business." Then he had neglected to tell her what that more important business might be.

  She hadn't intended to pursue the Waimauri property, not until her vacation with Granger in Honolulu had fallen through, anyway. Then she had needed to take her mind off her personal disappointment, and somehow, New Zealand had seemed like the answer. Her secretary had been instructed to inform Carter--when and if he seemed to be in a good mood. Paige hoped Lucy had found an opportunity by now.