Expecting The Rancher's Child. Sara Orwig

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.