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distant part of her mind, but she knew better. A smile was an indication of friendliness or affection. He felt neither of those things for her.
    “You always did look nice in shorts,” he said. “But then you’ve got the kind of body that shows off clothes to their best advantage. Still, I always liked you better without—”
    “Shut up, Richard.”
    He bounded up the steps into the gazebo. Before she had time to prepare herself, he was beside her. Suddenly she felt trapped, as if there were no place for her to run. In fact, all she had to do was step around him and leave. She started to, but the sudden softness of his voice stopped her.
    “Relax, Liana. Words can’t hurt, you know. Not unless the person at whom they’re directed cares, and you certainly don’t.” He waited a heartbeat, then asked in an even softer voice, “Do you?”
    “No, of course not. ”
    “No, I didn’t think so. ” His gaze dropped to the bandage wrapped around her knee. “How is it?” “Fine.”
    “Have you applied more antibiotic cream and changed the bandage as the doctor told you to?” “Not yet.”
    “But you will, won’t you?”
    “Of course.”
    He threw a quick glance around the gazebo. “What are you doing here?”
    She had been on the verge of leaving again, but this time it was the puzzlement in his voice that stopped her. “You mean at SwanSea?”
    “No. What are you doing here in the gazebo? You’re all alone. The sun is about to set; it will be dark soon, not to mention cooler.” He waved his hand toward her. “And all you’re wearing is that skimpy outfit.”
    There were reasons for everything he mentioned, but she chose to tell him only one. “I love the sea. I have ever since the first time I saw it.”
    He drew closer. “When was that?”
    She took a step away. “I guess the first time was when my father took my mother and me on a vacation to California.” As always when she thought of her father, conflicting emotions besieged her. Unconsciously she stiffened her spine. “At any rate, I don’t suppose it’s so unusual for a girl who grew up in Des Moines, Iowa, to love the sea.” “No, I don’t suppose it’s so unusual.”
    His stare was analytical, his voice low-key, yet the friction in the air was palpable. She had the feeling that if she threw a match into the air between them, it would burst into flame spontaneously.
    “It was always hard for me to picture you being from Des Moines,” he said after a moment. “You’re much too exotic.”
    “Des Moines was a wonderful place to grow up,” she said, automatically defensive, though not directly answering him.
    “But you left.”
    She shrugged. “I couldn’t have gotten as far as I have in modeling if I’d stayed there. Pictures and spreads from my local modeling went to New York. Then my portfolio appealed to several designers in Paris. As luck would have it, one of the designers chose me for a runway show before any New York clients could line me up. The job in Paris was a gold-plated opportunity, and I took it. ” She’d had to. She’d been desperate for the money.
    “I guess that pretty much must be the story of your life, right? Taking opportunities—no matter who gets hurt.” He paused. “Or was I the only one you stepped on as you climbed your way to the top?”
    “I have to go.”
    His hand encircled her arm as she moved past him. It was the contact of his hand on her skin more them his grip that halted her in her tracks. She gasped at the heat, at the hurt.
    He released her immediately. “I didn’t grab you that hard.”
    Silently, with an instinctive need to soothe, she rubbed her arm where he had touched.
    Frowning, he moved a few steps away. After another puzzled glance at her, he fixed his gaze on the horizon. “So what’s it like to have the world’s greatest designers create one-of-a-kind gowns for you?"
    “The gowns weren’t designed for me,” she said, happier about speaking of something that didn’t