Green Fire by Stephanie James

vision. The sun had warmed the day to a pleasant temperature, and Flint's chest had already grown damp with perspiration. He worked hard, Rani told herself, tapping the end of her pen against the table where she sat. You had to say that much for the man. Whatever else he did, he didn't shirk the rough work his job required. The Andersons were getting their money's worth.
    Rani sat staring thoughtfully out the window after Flint had passed. She had never pictured herself as the Lady Chatterley type. She didn't intend to fall for a handyman-gardener. A woman had to take enough risks with men in the world as it was. There was no point deliberately compounding those risks by getting involved with a man who had no clear-cut past and an even less well-defined future.
    On the other hand, she thought, I'm only going to be here for another three weeks. That wasn't long enough to get truly involved if one was careful, was it? A real relationship took time and effort. She intended putting neither into her association with Flint Cottrell.
    Involved relationship or net, three weeks is long enough to find yourself in bed with him if you aren't careful, she warned herself grimly. But if she were cautious, she might be able to walk the fine line between friendship and an affair. And a part of her wanted to be friends with Cottrell, even though he could easily annoy her. It was a matter of maintaining control of the situation, Rani decided as she got to her feet. She could do it.
    "Flint?" She stepped outside into the sunlight and looked around for him. When he didn't answer, she shoved her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans and walked to the side of the cottage where the broken brick path was. Flint was on his knees in the dirt, prying loose a brick. There was a stack of old dirt-covered red bricks beside him. Rani looked down, noticing how the light disappeared into the depths of his thick, dark hair. "What are you doing?"
    "What does it look like I'm doing?"
    "Handymen aren't supposed to be flippant with their betters," she drawled. "You're going to have to work on the proper attitude of meek deference."
    He looked up at that, green eyes narrowing against the sun. "Deference?"
    "Yes, deference. Know what it means?"
    "I'll look it up this evening."
    "You do that. I came out here to ask you if you wanted to go boating with me tomorrow afternoon."
    He rocked back on his haunches, dusting off his hands. "Does this mean I'm forgiven for playing the heavy-handed lover last night?"
    "The role isn't yours to play, is it?" she retorted.
    "I'd like to go boating with you," he answered, paying no attention to her comment. "What are we going to do for a boat?"
    "They rent rowboats and outboards down by the lake."
    His mouth curved faintly. "Can you row?"
    "The reason I'm inviting you along is so that you can do that part," she answered sweetly. "You're the handyman around here."
    "Yes, ma'am. I'd be pleased to row my lady's boat." He tugged at an imaginary cap and smiled ingratiatingly.
    Rani groaned. "I don't think you're ever going to be any good at it."
    "Deference?"
    "Yes, deference. And here I was going to pack a picnic lunch and everything."
    "I promise to get real good at exhibiting deference if you promise to pack a picnic lunch. I can't even remember the last time I had a picnic lunch. Ants and all?"
    "I was hoping to skip the ants." She smiled down at him, and Flint grinned back.
    "It's a deal."
    She nodded, pleased. "I called Dewhurst this morning," Rani added on a softer note.
    "Dewhurst?"
    "The man who originally appraised this ring for me." She held out her hand. "He reassured me that it was definitely fake."
    Flint shrugged, looking unconcerned. "It's a little large to be real, I suppose."
    "He also said the setting isn't more than a hundred years old, if that. So there goes your theory of this being the ring that belongs in your legend."
    "He's wrong about that." Flint went back to work on the brick path. "Ambrose was sure of