Fortune Finds Florist. Arlene James

of it is.”

      “It should stay that way.”

      “But you pay interest on borrowed money.”

      “And you make interest on invested money, which you use as a kind of collateral to secure your loans.”

      “Tell that to the bankers,” Sierra retorted. “They won’t loan me money.”

      “Well, that doesn’t make any sense.”

      She glanced around her uneasily and admitted, “It’s this house.”

      He hooked an elbow over the back of his chair and looked around. “It’s quite a house, but I don’t see the problem unless you owe more against it than it’s worth.”

      “That’s the thing,” she said warily. “I don’t owe anything against this house, and I absolutely refuse to use it as collateral.”

      He stared at her for a moment. “You actually paid cash for this house?”

      She lifted her chin defiantly. “Yes. A quarter of a million dollars. And I’d do it again.”

      He just shook his head. “Women!”

      “I beg your pardon.”

      “Don’t get your shorts in a twist, er, panties.” He waved that away, too. “What I mean is that women seem to have a peculiar anxiety about the security of their homes. My mom was the same way.”

      At the mention of his mother, his voice became wistful. It completely destroyed whatever resentment his earlier exclamation had dealt Sierra.

      “What happened to your mother was a truly awful thing, Sam.”

      His light green eyes met hers. “She stayed married to him because she was afraid to be without a home and, I guess, because he convinced her that she deserved what he dished out.” He looked away, and a muscle flexed in the hollow of his jaw. “Nothing I could say or do seemed to make any difference.”

      She reached out instinctively and curled her fingers around his. “I’m so sorry, Sam. That’s such a tough thing you and your sisters have had to go through.”

      He gripped her hand and smiled thinly. “The only good thing my father ever did in his whole miserable life was give us those girls.” His grin broadened, and the light of genuine affection and pride lit his eyes with a warmth she hadn’t seen before. “Seeing them happy, it makes up for so much.”

      Sierra thought of Tyree and said, “I know what you mean.” The problem was that Tyree didn’t seem happy anymore.

      “I see so much of Mom in them,” Sam was saying, “and no matter how screwed up her head was about Jonah, she protected them with her very life.”

      “Oh, Sam,” Sierra heard herself saying even as she watched her hand rise and settle gently against the curve of his jaw. Their eyes met again. And held. Awareness flared in those fascinating green eyes, like miniature sunbursts, and Sierra realized with jolting certainty that this was no boy sitting here next to her. This was a man, very much a man, and a rare one at that.

      As amazing at it seemed, she may have picked the right man at the right time. For once.

      Chapter Three

      Sam sat back, aware that he’d nearly made a very bad mistake. He’d actually thought about kissing her. Even in the best of circumstances, Sierra Carlton was not the sort of woman with whom he could afford to fool around. She was his business partner. Business and romance never mixed well. The repercussions could be fatal, at least to the enterprise. Only a fool would jeopardize a financial setup this good, even if she hadn’t been so smart with her money in the past.

      Quickly retreating to the safety of business, Sam said, “We’re burning daylight here. I’d better get out and take a good look at those fields.”

      Sierra set down her coffee cup as she rose from her chair. “Finish your coffee while I grab my coat, and we’ll take off.”

      He gulped. “You don’t have to go.”

      “Oh, I want to. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

      He tried not to sound panicked when he asked, “What about your daughter?”

      “She’s taken care of. I had Chelsea Grouper stay over last night.”

      Sam smiled weakly as she spun out of the room, then hunkered down over his cup. What was wrong with him? He knew how a man had to behave in a business situation. The fact that his partner was a woman shouldn’t make any difference.

      Maybe he should start paying some attention to his social life. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Shoot, he’d never been with a woman. He’d been with his share of grownup girls, but not in some time, and he’d never been with a real woman, at least not one the caliber of Sierra Carlton. Somehow, she had a way of making him supremely aware of that fact. He rubbed his brow and chugged back the remaining brew in his cup.

      Sierra reappeared wearing a bright yellow down jacket over her long-sleeved knit top and jeans. She was a woman who looked as good in jeans and boots and a fat, bushy ponytail as designer suits and more elaborate hairstyles. He wondered if she permed her hair and suppressed the urge to wrap a corkscrew curl at the nape of her neck around his finger as he followed her to the back door. They stepped down into a three-car garage that was empty except for her expensive sedan.

      “We should take my truck,” he pointed out belatedly.

      “Oh. Right. Should’ve thought of that. This way, then.” She led him through a side door and around the house to the front, where he’d parked his truck at the top of the graveled, circular drive.

      He hadn’t bothered to lock up, and she was inside before he even had the chance to go for her door, which irked him mildly, though he told himself that equals didn’t bother opening doors for one another, even if one of them was female.

      “Where’s the gate?” he asked, settling behind the wheel.

      “Gate? The property’s only fenced on two sides. Is that a problem?”

      “Naw, not really. Barbed wire will only keep the big critters out, anyway. We may want to string some chicken wire, though.”

      “I’m beginning to realize how much I don’t know,” she muttered, reaching for her safety belt.

      “That’s what I’m here for.”

      He slid the key into the ignition and started the truck, but before he could put the transmission into gear, she reached across and clapped a hand over his forearm.

      “Put on your seat belt first.”

      The admonition flew through him. Before he could think, certainly before he could reason, he had shaken off her hand and snapped, “You may be my partner, but you aren’t my mother!”

      Her mouth dropped open, and matching ire flashed in her blue-green eyes. “I’m not trying to be!”

      “Aren’t you?”

      “No! You’re in the car, you put a belt on.”

      “You have to get over this age thing, Sierra, or we just can’t work together.”

      “What has this got to do with age?” She threw up her hands. “You’ve spent the morning proving how invaluable you are. Is it so surprising that I don’t want you taking unnecessary chances with your personal safety?”

      “We aren’t going to drive on the interstate.”

      “If your sisters were in this truck, wouldn’t you expect them to buckle up?”

      That set him back. If the girls had been in the truck, he’d have buckled his seat belt without even thinking about it, because he always did when they were with him and because he always insisted