"You're going like that? In trousers?" Lily nodded. "They're much handier for riding than a skirt," she informed him, though she privately thought any idiot would have been able to figure out such an obvious thing on his own. "You'll be arrested," Caleb fretted, climbing down from the framework of his house to stand on the ground facing Lily. "I don't believe it's against the law for a woman to wear trousers, Caleb." "Don't be too sure of that. If they can throw you in the hoosegow for wearing lip paint--and they can--I figure trousers probably won't endear you to them either." He paused, grinning, to turn Lily around once, and then back to face him. "They do look pretty good on you, though." Lily glared at Caleb, but not out of any real ire. If she didn't keep him at a distance, he'd soon have her sprawled on the bed or bent over a sawhorse, and she'd be carrying on fit to shame Jezebel herself. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Caleb Halliday," she said. He laughed and caught his hands under her bottom, lifting her against him. "If you're going to strut around in pants, sodbuster, you have to be prepared to face up to the consequences." Lily hated herself for the way her blood was heating and her heartbeat quickening. "Put me down, Caleb," she fussed. She was mildly disappointed when he did. "All right," he agreed. "But if you're going to town, change your clothes first." Lily started to speak, then closed her mouth. She went into her house and closed the door. When"