The Inherited Twins. Cathy Thacker Gillen

up in each arm.

      “Read to us!” Heidi tried to give him the book, and ended up thunking him in the chin.

      Claire sent them a distressed look. “Kids…!”

      The door to the office opened. Mae Lefman, babysitter and part-time ranch employee, walked in.

      Claire’s spine relaxed in relief.

      “I got here as soon as I could,” Mae said, with a smile.

      “They’re all ready for bed,” Claire told her. She crossed over to the children, and one by one, removed them from Heath’s arms, kissing and hugging them before setting them down next to Mae.

      “I have work to do.” Claire knelt and faced Heidi and Henry, meeting them on their level. “SoMrs. Lefman is going to put you to bed and stay there with you until I’m finished.”

      “Can Mr. Fearsome read us a story with voices?”

      “No, honey, not tonight.But Mrs. Lefman will read to you.”

      “How about Curious George books?” Mae suggested, holding out a hand to each twin. “They’re lots of fun.”

      Wistfully, Heath watched the children walk across the yard to the ranch house. It shouldn’t matter to him who read the kids a bedtime story. But somehow it did…

      Which probably meant he was getting way too involved.

      “So how about it?” T.S. asked, drawing Heath back to the present. “Either of you interested in doing the voice-overs?”

      “Thanks for the invitation, but Heath and I already have plans,” Ginger interjected. “I promised to show him some real-estate listings this evening so we can start looking at properties tomorrow. Maybe we can help some other time?”

      “Don’t worry about it.” Claire looked at Ginger with the patience of a saint, given the agent’s rather snotty attitude. “But thank you for the offer.”

      “If you need a voice-over,” Heath interjected, “or any other help, count me in. I don’t know a lot about putting together a video, but I’m a quick study.”

      “Thanks. But I think we’ve got it covered. Y’all should stick to your original plans.”

      She was jealous, Heath realized with surprise. And there was no reason for her to be. Now was not the time to clear that up, however. That was a discussion best had without an audience. “Well, if you think of anything I can do, let me know,” he volunteered. “I’ll be back later.”

      Claire nodded and turned back to the computer screen in front of her.

      Clearly resenting anything that got in the way of her making a sale, Ginger touched Heath’s elbow and escorted him toward the door. “The house I want to show you hasn’t come on the market just yet,” she said, loudly enough for everyone else to hear. “But it’s renovated and move-in ready. If you like it, we can make a preemptive bid,” she added, ignoring the fact he’d told her he did not want to purchase anything until his old home had sold. “You could be moved into your new place before the Thanksgiving holiday…”

      And not so coincidentally, Heath thought, off the Red Sage. Away from Claire and the kids…

      “PUSHY, ISN’T SHE?” T.S. murmured, after the two had left.

      Struggling not to feel resentful, Claire shrugged, “Ginger’s just doing her job.”

      “She’s after Heath,” Mrs. Finglestein stated.

      So what if she was? It wasn’t Claire’s business. One kiss did not make her and Heath a couple, or anywhere close to it. They hadn’t even gone on a date. Nor were they likely to, given their complicated business relationship. “He’s single,” she said stiffly.

      Mr. Finglestein studied her. “You should make a play for him,” he announced.

      Claire flushed. Deep down, she’d had much the same thought. “Why do you say that?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

      “Because you’d make a cute couple!” his wife exclaimed.

      “Not everyone needs to be married.” T.S. turned to Claire with a wink. “But a little romance is always nice.”

      Claire’s face was now fire-engine red. “He’s a guest!” she declared, as if that settled it.

      “And you’re a woman and he’s a man,” Mrs. Finglestein quipped. “Seriously. You’re both available. We all saw the way Heath was looking at you just now. You should think about pursuing the attraction.”

      “What’s the harm in generating a few sparks?” T.S. teased.

      None, Claire thought. Unless her plan to make the guest ranch a success sputtered and failed, and Heath was forced—by virtue of his own responsibilities—to end her family’s dreams.

       Chapter Four

      Figuring he should take advantage of the trails everyone had been raving about, Heath set his alarm, grabbed a flashlight and went for a predawn run. The morning was crisp and clear and the air felt good in his lungs. Coming back to the ranch house afterward, he noticed that the lights were on.

      Through the windows, Heath could see Claire moving around the kitchen.

      He wondered if she was still ticked off at him, and even more curious as to why it mattered so much. After all, the two of them had just met.

      He exhaled.

      It all came down to the kiss they’d shared. His response to her, hers to him. There was definitely something there. Some special chemistry he could not ignore. He paused to stretch out his muscles, drew a few more deep, cooling breaths, then sauntered in.

      Claire took a pan of freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the oven and set them on the counter to cool.

      “Everything okay?” he asked.

      She gave the pot of oatmeal a stir. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

      Damn, but she looked gorgeous in a long denim skirt, a chestnut-hued sweater and the stack-heeled boots she wore around the ranch. Her honey-blond curls had a mussed, casual look that suited her perfectly. Heath edged closer. “You were up awfully late last night.”

      Bypassing the coffee simmering on the warmer, she poured him a tall glass of ice water from the pitcher on the counter. “How do you know?”

      Heath chugged the liquid gratefully. “I saw the lights.”

      Her expression closed, she didn’t comment.

      Okay, so she was ticked off at him. “Did you get your video finished?” he pressed.

      “Yes.” Seeing he’d finished his water, she poured him some coffee with the impersonal politeness of a restaurant hostess.

      Heath studied the pink color in her cheeks. “What’s the plan?”

      Claire avoided his eyes as she mixed confectioner’s sugar, vanilla and milk. “Why are you asking?”

      He matched her contentious tone. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

      She raised her chin, resentment simmering in her amber eyes. “Perhaps because you don’t approve and you don’t even know what I’m doing,” she blurted.

      Heath took a sip of coffee, finding it as delicious as everything else she cooked, which somehow rankled even more. “I didn’t say that,” he stated evenly.

      She released a short, bitter laugh. “Didn’t have to. I could see the little cash register in your brain going when you heard I bartered a night’s rent in exchange for help making the video.”

      Heath exhaled. “You have to admit that’s