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family." He stared down the empty highway. "Where
the hell is that tow truck?"

----
    Chapter
2

    « ^ »
    K atherine felt like an
idiot. She should have known better than to
confide in someone she didn't know. In
Los
Angeles
she wouldn't have dreamed of talking to a
strange man on the side of the road. But she'd felt like a different person
ever since she'd stepped off the plane in
Louisville
.
    The man next to her leaned against the side of the car
and crossed his arms in front of his chest. She struck a similar pose, wishing
the tow truck would arrive sooner rather than later.
    The minutes slowly ticked by, the silence broken only
by the sound of the birds, the breeze blowing through the trees, and the hum of
a distant tractor. Katherine tried to distract herself by counting the number
of planks in the endless white fence that ran along the side of the road. But
she couldn't concentrate on anything but the man by her side. Tall, lean
muscles in a dark silent package, he completely unnerved her.
    She wasn't used to quiet men. Most of the males she
knew moved in perpetual motion and talked more than anyone cared to listen. But
not this man. Now that he'd finished yelling at her about his precious horse,
he'd completely stopped talking.
    And he was so rough. He had calluses on his hands; she'd
felt them when he'd grabbed her arms. His face didn't look like it had seen a
razor that morning, or his hair a comb for that matter. He was rugged and wild
and his body seemed poised for action even when he was at rest. She could feel
the tension—or maybe it was her tension. He was the sexiest, most physical male
she'd come across in a long time. The worst thing was that he didn't seem to be
anywhere near as affected by her.
    After a few more minutes of restless internal
debating, she slanted a sideways glance at the man beside her and considered
her options. He'd made it clear he wasn't interested in helping her. And a week
ago, make that a day ago, she probably would have just kept quiet until the tow
truck came along. But she was on a quest. She couldn't let one stubborn male
stop her in her tracks without at least trying to push back. She would need
help to find her father, and if this man had lived here a long time… Oh, heck, what did she have to lose?
    "I think my father lived here in 1972," she
said in a rush.
    The man slowly turned his head, his mouth tilting
downward in a frown. "I can't help you."
    "I don't know his name, but I have an initial."
    "That's it?"
    "I have other clues, a letter, match covers,
cocktail napkins from Golden's Grill, a cuff link. I know it sounds silly,
probably a wild-goose chase, but it's something I have to do." She didn't
know if he thought she was a lunatic or a fool. Probably both, she decided. "You
see, I don't think my father knew about me. I don't believe my mother told him.
That's what made me stop wishing for the impossible and decide to actually do
something about it. I figure my father has a right to know he has a daughter."
    "What if he doesn't want to know?"
    "Why wouldn't he?"
    "I can think of a lot of reasons." He shook
his head. "You're going to stir up a hornet's nest of trouble, aren't you?"
    "I hope not."
    "I'm glad I'm not old enough to be your father.
What's your name anyway? I trust you have more than an initial."
    "Katherine Whitfield."
    "You look like a Kat." Zach's gaze drifted
down her body. "Sleek, sassy, stubborn, and argumentative. You get your
back up awfully easily."
    "You've only known me for five minutes."
    "In which time you almost ran me over, killed my
horse, and told me you were coming to town to dig up somebody's grave."
    "My father isn't dead. At least, I don't think he
is." She paused. It had never occurred to her that her father might be
dead. "I suppose he could be dead," she said finally, "but don't
you think I should know whether or not he's even alive?"
    "Don't ask me."
    "And I am not argumentative. I always listen and
compromise and work with people.