but I can tell you for sure

but I can tell you for sure that you chop them into a bunch

of pieces, all you get is chopped-up worms."

"I can see where that would be a problem," Luke said

when he could control his laughter enough to speak.

"But the basic idea really was good," Cat said, and for

some reason that set him off again.

God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed

like this. It had been years. It was a shame he couldn't take

her up on her insane suggestion that he marry her instead

of Devon. He was willing to her that Cat would make a

much more interesting wife.

"So tell me why you'd want to marry me." He hadn't

planned on bringing the subject up again, but the words

were out before he could stop them. With a shrug, he

decided to go with it. "What's in it for you?"

She looked at him, and there was something in those big

green eyes that he couldn't read. Some emotion that was

there and gone before he could figure out what it had been.

Her gaze slid away from his for a moment, and when she

looked at him again, there was nothing there but a cautious

sort of hope.

"Well, Devon said you guys had a business arrangement,

and she mentioned something about a settlement."

Money. Luke felt a surge of cynical satisfaction mixed

with a completely illogical twinge of disappointment. In the

end, most things came down to money. She and Devon

might not be related by blood, but apparently they had

quite a bit in common after all.

"How much?"

"What?" The pretty confusion was very well done, he

thought cynically. She wasn't as good at it as Devon had

been, but the blank surprise was quite effective in its way.

"How much did you have in mind?" He took a swallow of

brandy, letting the smoky heat burn the bad taste out of his

mouth.

"I...didn't have any particular amount in mind." Cat's

forehead puckered in a slight frown. "Are you very rich?"

The naive question startled him into swallowing too

quickly, and the brandy burned all the way down.

"I'm not poor," he rasped, fighting the urge to cough.

"I know that, but I mean, are you rich? Devon said you

were, but she sometimes gets her facts mixed up. Are you

rich, rich?"

"I'm rich, rich, rich," Luke told her, amused despite

himself.

"Oh, that must be nice," she said, sounding more wistful

than envious.

"I've always thought so."

The room was starting to get dark as the sun went down,

and he got up, switching on two lamps and drawing the

curtains closed against the darkness. The big room

immediately took on a greater air of intimacy, warm and

cozy, despite its size. When Luke returned to the seating

area, he didn't sit down again but chose to stand near the

fireplace, leaning back against the mantel as he studied

Cat.

"So how much did you have in mind?"

"Are you really thinking about this or just amusing

yourself?" she asked shrewdly.

It was a good question. Luke looked at her while he

debated with himself. Was he actually considering it? It was

crazy. Women weren't like carburetors. You couldn't just

swap one for the other―except, in this case, he actually

could. It would solve his immediate problem, anyway. His

grandfather had given him until his thirty-sixth birthday to

get married or he would sell Maiden's Morning to

developers. All those acres of carefully tended grapes, all

that history and pride, turned into tidy little ranchettes for

yuppies commuting to the city. He had to hand it to Nick

Quintain. He was a wily old bastard. He'd known just where

to apply the thumbscrews. Maiden's Morning was the only