Читать книгу Expecting The Rancher's Child - Sara Orwig - Страница 8
ОглавлениеOn a windy March afternoon, Blake watched Sierra Benson step out of the limo. She wore deep blue slacks and a matching shirt, her hair tied back by a blue scarf.
Taking a deep breath, Blake walked over and extended his hand. He wanted to find out if he had the same sensual reaction he’d had when he first met her, or if that had been his imagination. The moment his hand enveloped hers, he had his answer.
He felt the same sparks, and he saw the same surprise flicker in her big, blue eyes.
He never dated anyone he worked with, and she was not the type of woman he would be friends with. Even as he thought of the reasons he should keep his relationship with Sierra impersonal and professional, he was caught in those blue eyes and didn’t want to look away. Far from it. When his gaze lowered to her full red lips, he inhaled, trying to ignore a flash of curiosity. What would it be like to kiss her?
With a mental shake, he tried to get a grip on his thoughts. For all he knew she was engaged, deeply in love with someone at home and totally off limits.
“Welcome to my ranch,” he said with a smile. “Come inside, and I’ll have someone bring in your things while I show you around.”
“Thanks,” she said, slipping her hand out of his and falling into step beside him. “You have a beautiful home. It looks very big already, even without adding a wing to make it larger.”
“It’s home—a haven for me. I wanted a larger bedroom suite, something in a contemporary style, and there are three more large suites in the new wing. I wanted an entertainment room, an exercise room and a casual living area—so I’ll have all that in the new wing, too.”
“It’s a huge place for one man.”
He smiled. “I have a staff to take care of it and relatives on Mom’s side of the family. They’re scattered across the country, and she likes to have them here during Christmas—they’ll fill both wings. I have three half brothers who visit and one of them, Nate, is married with a baby girl. Cade and Gabe—heaven knows if and when they’ll marry. I have friends who come to fish or hunt or for a party or just to visit. I don’t intend to rattle around alone. Would your family fill the space?”
Her eyes widened. “We could fill a lot of the bedrooms. Growing up, we always had kids sleeping on air mattresses and sofas because of the company we brought home.”
He saw her looking at the heavy crystal-and-brass chandelier hanging over the circular entryway filled with potted palms. There were also oil paintings on the walls. The entryway ceiling was two stories high, and on both sides of the hallway the rooms were open, with Corinthian columns instead of walls on the side facing the circular hallway.
“I have an office you can use on the second floor. It’s next to your suite.” He motioned toward a sweeping staircase with iron railings.
On the second floor he directed her down a wide hallway. They passed a bedroom and then stepped into a living area. “This suite will be yours. If you need anything, just let me know.” He saw amusement curve her mouth slightly. Tempting lips that looked soft and enticing.
Mildly exasperated that she stirred unexpected feelings in him, he shifted his thoughts to the present. “What’s amusing you?” he asked.
“How could I possibly want anything in all this luxury?” she asked. “You’ve seen my office.”
“Yes, I have. I suspect you didn’t do the decor for it.”
She smiled, and a warm feeling filled him. Her smile was contagious, as inviting as sunshine. “No, there is no decor in my office. Very plain vanilla, and we have buckets for rainy days.”
“You should have enough money from my check to fix the roof.”
“Probably, unless things come up that are more urgent.”
Surprised, he glanced at her, realizing again that he didn’t have any acquaintances like her. Neither his friends nor his family would put a charity project over repairing a leaky roof. She was a marvelous interior decorator, but he couldn’t fathom her views of the world, her preferences. Again, he wondered how long this career would last for her. She would discover the reality of human nature and return to her old career. She would change, he had no doubts, but until then, her rosy view fascinated and confused him.
Hot chemistry or not, she was definitely not his type, and he knew with absolute certainty he wasn’t hers. He needed to stop thinking about her lips.
“You have an adjoining bedroom and bath, and if you’ll come with me, next door is the office.”
She laughed softly. “It’s bigger and better equipped, and far nicer than mine at the nonprofit. I might not go home.” He saw the twinkle in her eyes and smiled at her.
“Nice office or not, I suspect you’ll be ready to go when the time comes. Some who have a city background don’t like the ranch after a few days. Or sooner—it’s too quiet and isolated for them. Wear boots or take care when you’re outside—we have rattlesnakes.”
He waved his hand. “You have four computers with extra-large monitors, a copy machine, scanner, fax, a laptop, an iPad, a drawing board. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“I think that covers what I might need, and I brought my own iPad.” She turned to face him. “Blake, I want to look at the rooms we’re talking about so I have an idea what I’ll be dealing with. I’ve hired two talented people. When I unpack I’ll give you their cards and a brochure about their agencies. Right now, they’ll work out of New York, but they’ll fly out here as we get to the later stages. That will mean they will need to stay nearby—”
“They can stay right here. There is plenty of room in this house and there are two guest houses. If you need or want anything, just tell me, or if I’m not here, tell Wendell.”
A man knocked lightly on the door. He wore a black shirt, jeans and Western boots as he entered with her carry-on and a small bag.
“Perfect timing, Wendell. Sierra, this is Wendell Strong, who keeps the house running. Wendell, meet Ms. Benson, our decorator for the new wing.”
After they exchanged greetings, Wendell set down her things. As he did, Blake added, “Wendell does a lot of jobs—butler and valet, but basically he’s my house manager. With the exception of the cook, he manages my house staff and the gardener. His wife, Etta, is my cook.”
“I’m glad to meet you, and thank you, Wendell, for getting my bags,” Sierra said, smiling at him as he nodded and left.
“Have dinner here with me tonight,” Blake said. “Etta has cooked all afternoon, so I hope when the time comes, you’re hungry. I thought you might want to settle in now and catch your breath after the flight and drive. If you’ll come down about six, we can have a drink and relax a bit before dinner. After dinner I’ll show you the new wing.”
“Sounds good, Blake,” she replied. “One other thing—we have a big picnic at home Saturday, so I’m flying back to Kansas City on Friday afternoon.”
“Sure. I’ll take care of the flight arrangements for you.” He walked to the door and managed not to turn around and take one last look.
* * *
As Sierra unpacked her few belongings, she couldn’t keep from comparing the ranch house to her condo, which was large enough to be comfortable for her, but not too big, and she thought about the home where she grew up with her five siblings.
Her family’s two-story house had been large enough for her big family, kid friendly and nothing fancy. Always a place any of them could bring their friends, their house was usually filled with company. Many meals had included twelve to fifteen around their table.
Now, because of her work with Brigmore, she interacted daily with people who needed help, and helping them seemed so much more important than jobs like this one for Blake. They were good people who had had misfortune—illness or just bad luck. He was cynical, yet ironically, his money would be such a help. Most people would appreciate the help, and use it to make their lives better, something Blake didn’t seem to believe.
She needed to get this job done and get back to Kansas City. She was attracted to Blake to a degree she had never been attracted to another man before. He hadn’t done one thing to cause the attraction other than be himself, but she knew he felt it as much as she did.
His handsome looks and sexy appeal took her breath. While he seemed laid-back and easygoing, his air of supreme confidence was so strong it was almost tangible. He was sure of himself, accustomed to getting what he wanted, and it showed in his attitude, his demeanor and his walk. His assurance was obvious when he entered a room.
To her relief, he had been impersonal, businesslike, since her arrival. She hoped that didn’t change. She appreciated him not flirting or trying to charm her. She hoped she could stay businesslike, too.
Yes, she’d agreed to dinner tonight, but after this getting-to-know you session, she hoped to spend as little time around him as possible. When she thought of the enormous check he had given her to get her to take this job, a staggering amount, she had to wonder what was behind that offer. Why had he wanted her that badly? She might have once been good at interior decorating, but so were others.
Feeling suspicious about his motives, she hoped he had paid that much for purely business reasons. She couldn’t keep from thinking about the CEO she’d worked for previously. She had been an executive ready to move up when he had propositioned her, promising to make her a vice president if she would become his mistress. She hadn’t seen that coming from him and he had held no sexual appeal.
His startling offer had shaken her judgment in men and angered her. Unlike with her CEO, a physical attraction had existed between her and Blake from the first second they had met.
She would have dinner with him tonight, get the layout of the new wing and find out what he wanted and then, hopefully, he would go on about his business. He didn’t look the type to hover.
She showered and changed, dressing in a skirt, a matching red silk shirt and high-heeled pumps. She tied her hair behind her head with another silk scarf and went downstairs to meet him at six.
As she walked down the curving stairs, she saw him stop at the foot to wait. And watch her.
His dark gaze made her tingle. Taking him in at a glance, she smiled at him. He had changed, too. He wore jeans, boots and a different short-sleeve shirt that emphasized his dark, handsome looks.
“You don’t look as if you’ve traveled most of the day. You look as fresh as the proverbial daisy,” he said.
“Traveling in your private jet and a limo was not difficult or tiring. Both were about as comfortable as one can get,” she said, falling into step beside him.
“Want to look around a little, or wait until later?” he asked.
“Now’s fine so I’ll have some idea where things are located and what kind of house you have.”
“Let’s go to the formal living area. It’s rarely used, but I felt I needed it, and I know my mother would have been unhappy if we didn’t have it.”
“Does she entertain here?”
“Never on her own, but she’s been hostess for me a few times. More in the past, when I first moved out here. This is it,” he said, and she walked through double doors into a room with a marble floor, elegant furniture and chairs upholstered in deep blue antique satin and brocade. Ornate, gilt mirrors and original oils of landscapes hung on the walls. The vaulted ceiling was two stories high, and floor-to-ceiling glass comprised a wall of windows overlooking the front drive.
“This is beautiful, Blake.”
“Thanks. The formal dining room adjoins this room,” he said, motioning toward more wide double doors that were open. They entered a room with a large ornate crystal chandelier centered over a gleaming fruitwood dining table that could easily seat two dozen people.
Silver candelabra sat on a buffet with a sterling tea set. The stone fireplace and hearth were flanked by paintings of hunting scenes.
“This is another beautiful room.”
“This one has been used more than that front room. I seem to have more dinner parties, although most of them are casual, the patio and backyard type. Much easier for everyone, and the food is still Etta’s cooking.”
“I think the cooking is what everyone remembers,” she said.
They moved through a study, a library filled with books that he had not read, and she laughed with him over his plans to read them someday. He showed her a downstairs bedroom that had more ancient, beautiful furniture—old-fashioned, heavy pieces, hand carved and made of mahogany, including a four-poster bed.
“This is absolutely gorgeous, Blake.”
“I think it’s time for a drink, and later we can continue the tour. I have three more bedrooms on this floor, an office on the ground floor and another smaller one adjoining my bedroom upstairs. Let’s go to the sitting room across the back. There’s a bar and it’s more comfortable.”
She walked beside him into a room filled with light thanks to more floor-to-ceiling glass. It overlooked a patio, a garden and a kidney-shaped swimming pool of crystal blue water with a waterfall.
When he crossed to the bar, she scooted onto a stool across the counter from him.
“This is quite a contrast to your Dallas life,” she said, gazing outside and seeing unending fields beyond his fenced yard.
“I love this place, and I need the ranch life. You’ve switched from New York City to Kansas City—still cities, but that’s a switch.”
“It’s quieter, and I love my work now far more than what I was doing.”
“I don’t see how you can. You could have opened your own design firm, but now all your energy goes to people who won’t thank you for it. You’ll see. These people you help will just want more help again—no one really changes. This,” he said, motioning to the expanse of his ranch home, “is where you can do something that will really last and be appreciated. You seem to have deep beliefs about how good people are—I’m sorry to say, you’ll be disillusioned eventually.”
“Blake, you’re a cynical man. Look for the goodness in people. Believe in it, and you’ll find it.”
He smiled at her indulgently.
“You’re looking at me as if you’re going to pat me on the head and try to set me straight on what people are really like.”
“That’s a thought.” He laughed.
She watched his hands as he poured drinks. He had fine, strong hands, which were probably good for ranch work. Maybe the isolation of this spread was what he preferred because he had a warped view of the world and a poor opinion of people in general.
When he held out a glass of pale white wine, she reached to take it, her fingers touching his lightly. He looked up, his gaze meeting hers. “Thanks,” she said, taking her drink and sliding off the bar stool to cross the room and look at his pool. But she didn’t see the water as questions swirled in her thoughts. Why did she have this intense reaction to him? Worse, why did he feel the chemistry, too?
“Running away from me?” he asked in a deeper tone as he joined her.
Startled, she met his probing gaze and wondered how long this reaction to him would continue. She didn’t want to try to guess what he was thinking at the moment. It was impossible to miss the blatant look of desire in the depths of his brown eyes.
“We better stick to talking about business,” she replied, wishing she didn’t sound so breathless. How could she have this reaction to him when he wasn’t doing anything to cause it, and when they held such opposing views of the world?
“Blake, we’re not going there,” she whispered.
Suddenly, he looked mildly amused, which shattered the intensity of the moment. “Not going where, Sierra?” Exasperation pricked her.
“You know where. I don’t know why we have this chemistry between us, but we need to ignore it, avoid it and hope it will go away because I’m sure you don’t want to feel it any more than I do.”
“I’m hurt,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “I didn’t know I was such an ogre that you don’t want to find me attractive.”
“Right now, you’re moving into an area where neither of us should go,” she snapped, losing her usual good nature and patience. She was on edge because of her reaction to him, and his sudden flirting was only adding fuel to the fire.
He laughed softly. “Relax, Sierra. I know our relationship is a professional one, but while you’re living here, we might as well indulge in some unbusinesslike moments.”
With an effort, she smiled and tried to bank her impatience with him. He had made light of that intense moment, and she was certain it had meant nothing to him. She wanted him to feel that it meant nothing to her, too. She had no intention of letting him know the extent of the edgy, sharp physical awareness she had of him as a sexy, attractive male.
She suspected a man like Blake did not need any coaxing to entice him into a physical relationship. She was certain he had attracted females from a young age and was fully aware of the effect he had on women.
“If that big check you gave me included anything besides the design work you described in my office, then the deal’s off.”
Instantly the amusement left his expression. “Hey, Sierra. Absolutely not. My teasing was in fun and meant nothing.”
She realized her reaction had been too strong. Her past biased her. She tried to relax, getting them back on a casual, friendly footing. “I don’t know you well at all. Just making sure we understand each other,” she said, smiling at him.
“Good. Have a seat. Etta is in the kitchen, and Wendell is helping her get dinner on the table. I’ll introduce you to her. She’s a fantastic cook, which always makes it easy to come home.”
“You think of the ranch as home,” she said a few moments later, after they’d stepped outside and were sitting in chairs facing his patio.
“I told you that I love it here. This is my haven. I can come out here and enjoy the total silence. Sometimes you hear the wind, and sometimes you don’t even hear that. For a few minutes I can imagine the whole world is at peace. Even if it’s not, my little corner of it is.” He grinned. “Obviously, I like the ranch and I’m happiest here.”
“You’re fortunate. Far luckier than you give much thought to. I work with people daily who don’t have a haven, not even a tiny one. Then, there are those who surprise me—one would think they couldn’t possibly feel at peace because they own nothing, but they have an inner sense of a haven. That’s resilience, and it’s amazing.”
“You really like working with those people, don’t you?” he asked, looking more intently at her. He sounded surprised.
“More than anything. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world to help someone, or rescue an animal and find it a loving home, or make someone’s life easier. That’s the best possible reward.”
“That’s commendable, but in my experience people don’t change. You can work your fingers to the bone and not make a difference. With the career you had, there were some very tangible financial rewards and lasting legacies. You could have built your own business instead of working with people who will disappoint and deceive you.”
“You have a cynical view of the world. Expect more from people, Blake. There’s a deep-rooted goodness in most people. Look for that and believe in it.”
“I’m just puzzled. You’ve tossed over a spectacular, successful career, a fabulous reputation and a hefty income for something that will take infinite patience, probably have low financial returns and be a lot of hard work that sometimes goes unappreciated and unrewarded.”
“Wow, Blake. That’s strong. You’re only looking at the downside of what I do.”
“Just looking at it honestly because I can’t understand your great faith in the goodness of human nature.”
“I don’t know what you’ve experienced, but I have seen that people are good and can live up to high expectations, or occasionally exceed them. Look at you. You don’t need money, yet you work hard to build your hotel business.”
He looked away and was silent a moment. She noticed a muscle flex in his jaw and wondered why her question caused him to tense up.
“I want to know that I can be a success in the business world as well as in the ranching world. We all have our goals.”
Wendell appeared, wearing a white apron over his jeans. “Dinner is served.”
“Thank you.” Blake stood. “Leave your wine. There will be some poured at the table.”
She walked with him toward the front of the house, and then they turned into the wide hall. In minutes Wendell directed them to a kitchen that was big enough to hold her Kansas City apartment, but the tempting smell of beef assailed her before she ever stepped inside. Doors stood open to reveal stainless steel appliances and state-of-the-art cookware that, when not in use, would be out of sight behind the elegant dark wood. A tall, slender woman with her brown hair clipped at the back of her head, smiled. Etta wore a white apron over a black uniform.
“Sierra, this is Etta Strong, my cook. Etta, this is Ms. Benson, who is here to plan the decor for our new wing.”
“So what’s for dinner tonight?” he asked as soon as the women had greeted each other.
“Tossed salad with chunks of lobster, slices of avocado on the side and French dressing. Prime rib, asparagus hollandaise, mashed potatoes and gravy and buttermilk biscuits. With homemade peach ice cream,” Etta answered.
“That sounds like a fabulous banquet,” Sierra remarked.
“When you’re seated, I’ll get you started.”
As Sierra walked with Blake to the adjoining informal dining area, she had another view of gardens and his irrigated yard, and marveled at the luxury of his lifestyle. She was thankful again for his check, and after their earlier conversation, she knew he needed to see some of the good his money would do.
They sat at a table that could easily seat ten. Wendell came with a bottle of red wine and one of white. He asked Sierra her choice and tipped red into her glass before pouring Blake’s.
Etta set the prime rib in front of Blake for him to carve. She returned with a bowl of steaming asparagus that she served.
After the first bite of prime rib, Sierra sipped her wine and smiled at Blake. “I have to agree—you have a fabulous cook. This is delicious.”
“Wait until you try her homemade ice cream. Wendell helps her with that.”
“No wonder you like the ranch so much.”
He smiled. “The food is the best, but there’s more than food. Have you ever been to a rodeo?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Actually, one of the best is in New York City, the Professional Bull Riders at Madison Square Garden,” he explained.
“Do you ever participate locally?”
“Sometimes—not as much now as I used to. I have ridden bulls a couple of times, but not seriously. That’s a bit rougher than I’m up for.”
“Aw, shucks,” she said, smiling. “So I won’t see someone I actually know in a rodeo. The pictures I’ve seen look wild.”
“That’s the thrill of it,” he said, and she laughed.
Through dinner, he was charming, keeping the same professional manner as if they were at a business dinner in Kansas City. Even so, there was an undercurrent of sensual awareness, and every minute spent in his company drew her closer to him and heightened his appeal.
As Wendell removed her dinner plate, she smiled. “My compliments to the chef. That was one of the most delicious dinners I’ve ever eaten. I don’t know which was best—that prime rib or those fantastic biscuits.”
“Thank you,” Wendell said, smiling as he started toward the kitchen. “I’ll tell Etta.”
Sierra looked at Blake. “I meant every word of that. What a marvelous cook you have.”
“I do everything I can to hang on to both of them. Etta has a reputation throughout the county—and probably farther than that. If she decided to leave, she would have so many offers, I don’t know how she would decide.”
The peach ice cream was served with white chocolate chip cookies, and they lingered over coffee, which Sierra barely touched. Once again, she thought about the homeless people at the shelter and how they often lived with hunger. Blake’s check would provide food for so many, and again, she felt enormous gratitude for his donation.
“Etta should open a restaurant—talk about natural talent for a job.”
“Don’t put ideas in her head,” he teased.
“Did she cook for your family before cooking for you?” she asked. For a fleeting second, she saw a hard look cross his features. It was gone so quickly, she thought she must have imagined it.
“No. The family she cooked for decided to move to South Texas and sell their ranch. I was friends with her son growing up. We’re the same age and went through school together. He’s a great guy. After graduation from high school, he went to the Air Force Academy and now flies fighter jets. He’s stationed in Europe. They have four other kids who are scattered except for an older, married daughter who has four kids. She lives in Dallas, and the grandkids come out here a lot and stay with Etta and Wendell. They’re cute kids, and we have horses for them—except the little one, who’s too young to turn loose yet.”
“That’s great. Were you born and raised in Dallas?” she asked. This time she had no doubt about the shuttered look she received.
“Yes. My father divorced my mother before I was a year old. He severed all ties with us, so I grew up without knowing him. He has never been a part of my life. If he’s ever spoken to me, it was before I was old enough to remember. I don’t know why, but my mother has never remarried.”
He spoke in a flat voice, and she realized she had touched on a sensitive area. “I’m sorry, Blake,” she said, meaning it, unable to imagine how devastating it would be if her father had rejected her. She thought about her generous, loving dad who had always been a big part of all his children’s lives.
Blake’s voice dropped, and she heard a note of amusement. “Sierra, don’t ever play poker. You look like you’ll start crying over me any minute. Of course, if you want to hold me close and try to console me for being abandoned—”
“Forget it, Blake,” she interrupted, laughing at him. “I see you survived and grew up quite well.”
“I’m friends with my father’s other sons, my half brothers, now because the oldest one and I went to school together. He’s a little younger, but we played football together in high school. Enough said on that subject. Where are you from? New York?”
Still thinking about his abandonment by his father before the age of one, she shook her head. “No. I’m from Kansas. That’s why I came back to work in Kansas City. My dad’s a minister, and I have a big family with a lot of contacts in the city. My mother is a retired teacher, and most of my family is involved in charity projects related to my job. Mom and two of my sisters volunteer at our animal rescue shelter. Dad runs some programs to help people from the shelter get to church. He has free breakfasts at his church every morning... I could keep going. There are six kids in my family, fourteen grandkids and a foster grandchild—soon to be adopted. I’m the one with no kids.”
“That’s a big family. It’s a very different lifestyle from my background, where I grew up with just two of us at home—Mom and me.”
“We were always free to bring our friends home with us, so we constantly had a house filled with kids,” she said, unable to imagine a home of just two.
“Don’t look at me like I was left by myself on the street,” he said with a grin. “I’m not one of your charity projects, although that might be interesting.”
She smiled in return. “There is no way I could see you as a charity project at any point in time. I suspect your mother showered you with love, and you had friends galore.”
“I always thought so,” he answered easily. “Let’s move and let Etta and Wendell clean up and go home.”
“Sure. I want to step into the kitchen and tell Etta how wonderful dinner was. I can’t imagine having someone like that cook for you all the time.”
“It is another draw the ranch holds, although if I had to live in Dallas year round, I’d try to get her to move with me. Wendell, too, of course.”
Blake waited while she went to the kitchen to tell Etta and Wendell again how wonderful dinner had been. She returned to find him leaning one shoulder against a door jamb and looking at her legs. His gaze flew up to meet hers, and there was no mistaking the blatant sexual speculation in his expression.
Trying to ignore the unguarded moment, she crossed the room to join him, and they walked into the big living area overlooking the patio and pool.
“Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll show you the new wing. We can take a quick look tonight and go over the rooms in detail tomorrow—or we can skip anything related to work tonight and let you relax.”
“I can relax while I work. If you care to, you can show me around tonight. I don’t mind at all.”
“Come on and we’ll look,” he said and they headed for the stairs. “Tomorrow I’ll give you blueprints and pictures, so you’ll know what I want. The workmen aren’t completely finished with construction, but they’re far enough along that they’ll finish this week. By the time you’re ready for the actual work, they’ll be gone.
“I told you about the additions earlier. Also, I had an elevator put in because my grandmother visits, and she is getting less enthusiastic about stairs. Mom has her own one-story house on the property, but she rarely spends time there. She’s in Patagonia, sightseeing with friends now, or I would have had her join us for dinner. Here we are—we’ll walk through, and then if you have questions, fire away.”
As they strolled down a wide hall, she was more aware of the tall man beside her than of her surroundings. Their footsteps in the empty, unfinished wing created a hollow sound. When they entered the first suite, she saw that the rooms would be light because of the abundant windows.
She could smell sawdust and new lumber. She was equally aware of the faint scent of Blake’s aftershave, the scrape of his boot heels on the new hardwood floors, of his nearness when he opened doors for her and stepped back to hold them.
Thankful she wouldn’t be working with him on a daily basis, she couldn’t shake the acute awareness of him. As they stood in the large living area of the suite, he turned to her. “Downstairs in the older part of the house I showed you some of the rooms. They all have formal French-style furniture, European antiques, plus one suite holds two-hundred-year-old furniture I bought at an estate sale in New Orleans.”
“The rosewood furniture that’s ornate and elegant. It’s beautiful, Blake,” she said.
“Thanks. I think so. I did that mostly for my mom because she loves that kind of furniture, and she was influential in the selection of the earlier furnishings. Up here, I’d like a change in decor. I’d like these suites to be contemporary with sleek lines, open spaces. That’s more my style.”
“That’s popular now, and there are some beautiful furniture designs available,” she said, walking through the empty rooms while he followed. “You’ll have plenty to choose from.”
“Whoa,” he said. “Sierra, I’m turning this project over to you. I want you to make the decisions about the decor—that’s your field, and I trust you totally. From here on, you take charge. Do your stuff, get it lined up and then show me. I do not want to be too involved.”
“Suppose you don’t like it?” she asked. “People usually want to see some of the early planning. You had people who checked on what I was doing at your hotel.”
“That’s because you’d never worked for us before. Now the early stages will be your deal. I’ve told you contemporary, and we’ll set an upper limit for the cost. I don’t want to be consulted until you’ve made some selections and have sketches showing how it’ll look.”
“That’s flattering, and you’re the boss,” she said. “At least you know what you want.”
“Damn straight,” he said quietly, his voice acquiring that husky note that indicated furniture was no longer on his mind. “I know exactly what I want,” he said.
“All right, Blake. I’ll see if I can please you,” she flung back at him. Her pulse raced as she turned to walk away. When she did, her back tingled, and she felt his gaze on her. Telling herself that it was probably her imagination, she had no intention of turning to see if he was studying her.
The suites in the new wing were roomy, each unique, one with arched, wide windows giving a panoramic view of his lighted pool.
As she turned, she once again caught Blake gazing at her with a lustful look. She met his gaze and the moment intensified, her surroundings disappearing, leaving only the tall, handsome man facing her.
Her heart pounded as she left the room. “I’ll move on,” she said over her shoulder without glancing back.
They had only started looking and had the rest of the wing to finish. She drew a deep breath, determined to keep her mind on business. Not so easy when she was beside him or when she caught him looking at her with unmistakable desire.
Again, she was grateful that he didn’t live on the ranch full-time.
They looked at suites with large rooms, lots of glass and open spaces, big walk-in closets and bathrooms large enough to hold several pieces of furniture besides the usual bathroom equipment. She could envision some beautiful suites.
“You’ll have a hotel when you finish,” she said, amused. “This would even be big for my family.”
He smiled. “I like plenty of room. I do have company, and I have family now, thanks to Cade and my other half brothers. When they come to visit they need their own space. I told you before, Nate is married. He’s two years younger than Cade. He has a beautiful wife and a beautiful little baby daughter who is about two months old. They are back east right now, visiting her parents.”
“Is Cade the one close to your age?”
“Yes. Cade is the Callahan I know best. He’s the oldest of the three. Gabe is the youngest.”
While they talked, she gazed into his dark brown eyes. She was aware of how close he stood, and she considered initiating conversations only when standing across the room from him. This intense reaction was unique, disturbing and something she couldn’t understand. She turned to walk away, reminding herself to keep a professional distance between them.
“That’s it,” he said finally when they finished. “It’s early. Let’s go downstairs and talk for a while. You’ll live and work in my house temporarily, so we might as well get to know each other.”
She knew now was the moment to politely decline, but looking into his midnight eyes, she couldn’t. “For a while,” she said, unable to resist accepting his invitation. What was it about him that held so much forbidden appeal?
As they walked downstairs, he asked, “Want anything to eat or drink? We have desserts, more ice cream and an after-dinner liqueur. What would you like?”
“Just a glass of ice water, please,” she said.
They went to the sitting room at the back of the house, and he stepped behind the bar to get ice water for her and a beer for himself.
As she sat in a straight wingback chair, he sank down on a large brown leather chair facing her, sipped his beer and set it on a table. “Do you plan to stay with the nonprofit, or will you go back to decorating someday?”
“I plan to stay where I am. A project I have dreamed about is finding foster parents for homeless kids—now with the funds you provided, maybe we’ll be able to start that program. You would have room to take one,” she teased.
He gave her a startled look and then smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting a fraction. “That’s commendable, but a little kid right now wouldn’t fit in with my lifestyle.”
“Nonsense. You can hire nannies, maids and tutors, whomever you need.”
