Freezing at the command, one foot above the other on the metal steps of the combine ladder, Dusty McPherson stopped breathing.

An ominous click shattered the silence, and he knew without a doubt that the woman had a shotgun in her hands, cocked and ready. Breathing again, but careful not to startle her, he didn't question her as he eased back down the ladder. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, even though the late May Oklahoma morning sun hadn't begun to heat the day. A woman with a gun could be dangerous.

"Okay, that's good. Now turn around, but don't make any sudden moves," she said when he reached the ground. "And keep your hands up."

Dusty made his turn slow and smooth, his nerves taut and ready in case she had an itchy trigger finger. Knowing he could meet his maker in the blink of an eye, he faced his opponent. His eyes zeroed in on the tip of the steel barrel pointed directly at a spot any man would protect. He could only hope he'd be quick enough if there was any indication he'd be shot. He might want to be a daddy someday.

Slowly raising his gaze to her face, Dusty found himself staring into eyes the color of a clear blue mountain lake. It was all he could do to keep from sucking in air at the sight, but he managed to control himself.

The blue eyes widened for an instant, but just as quickly narrowed, hard as granite. "Just what do you think you're doing, cowboy?"

The urge to check out the rest of her was strong, but tempered by the fact that it could be the end of him if he did. Not wanting to spook her