attention on the girls as she spread the blankets where Emma had indicated. Giggling and frolicking about, they stripped to their shifts and made a bee- line for the water. The resulting splash sent droplets of water raining down on Jenny and Trace.
“That feels good,” she said, smiling as she wiped the wetness from her cheeks.
“Yeah. It’s hot enough to wither a fence post, all right. I imagine you’ll get to wishing you’d brought that swimming costume of yours after all.”
Jenny shrugged and reached for her parasol. She wasn’t about to try and explain why the idea of an innocent swim with the McBride family sounded so wicked. “I’m content to be away from town, Mr. McBride. The herd fording the Trinity today is extra large, and I can’t say that’s my favorite time to be in Fort Worth. The noise, the dust.”
“The smell.”
“Yes, there is that.” She grinned ruefully and added, “Although the ride out here wasn’t exactly a perfumer’s delight.”
Trace nodded as he settled himself on one of the blankets, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “They did stink something fierce. I still can’t figure how Mari managed to get that mess behind her ears. You were a good sport about it, Miss Fortune, and I appreciate it. I’m afraid I couldn’t see making them go through the effort of bathing when we were headed toward the swimming hole.”
Jenny smiled, and because she needed something to do, artfully arranged her skirts. She put up a valiant struggle to ignore the way his clothing outlined the rugged length of his body as he reached down to tug off his boots, but in the end, she failed.
That annoyed her. It was all her mother’s fault. She’d never noticed Trace McBride until her mother had mentioned lust. Liar , her conscience declared.
All right, so she’d noticed him. Quite a lot, in fact. But not near as much as now. Now she couldn’t seem to stop noticing him.
He called out cautious instructions to his daughters, then looked at her and said, “Don’t be shy about getting your feet wet, Miss Fortune. I wouldn’t want you to get overheated.” He yanked off his socks and wiggled his toes, then proceeded to roll up the bottoms of his trousers to midcalf.
Jenny thought the temperature must have gone up ten degrees again. She dug in her bag for her fan, flipped it open, and waved it in front of her face. “I knew I shouldn’t have come,” she grumbled beneath her breath.
He must have the hearing of an owl, because he looked at her and remarked, “You didn’t stand a chance against them, you know. Once those girls decided they wanted you at Emmie’s birthday do, they were willing to do anything and everything to make certain you’d accept.”
Exasperation filled Jenny at his words. “They shouldn’t have that power. I shouldn’t have allowed them to manipulate me that way. For that matter, neither should you. At risk of treading on a sensitive subject yet again, I fear I must advise you to teach your daughters a modicum of control.”
“Modicum of control,” he repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “I do like the sound of that. Tell me, Miss Fortune. How do you propose I go about it?”
Just then, Katrina’s feet slipped out from under her, and she fell hard against the creek bottom. Jenny started forward immediately, but Trace laid a hand against her arm. “You all right, Katie-cat?”
She sat in no more than a foot of water. “I can’t decide if I should cry or not.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really.”
“Then why would you want to cry?”
‘“Cause I want you to come play with me, and I know you will if I cry.”
“You know I’ll come play with you anyway. I always do, don’t I?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So what’s the fuss?”
“I want Miss Fortune to come play, too. I don’t know about her. Would it be better if I cry?”
Trace turned to Jenny. “Modicum of control, right? No more manipulation. I’d love a demonstration, Miss