The Wedding Wager. Sara Orwig

      “Megan,” he said in a deep voice, “I’m glad you were here last night. It’s good to see you and be with you again. Better than ever,” he said, thinking about their kisses and her eager response. If she reacted that much in anger, what would it be like if he could melt those hurdles she kept between them?

      “It was meaningless, Jared. The result of my not dating enough and a turbulent night. And you know you hold a certain charm for me, whether I like it or not.”

      “I think there may have been a left-handed compliment somewhere in there. I certainly hope so,” he said.

      She shook her head and he held the door, assessing her long, shapely legs as she climbed into the SUV. He closed her door and hurried to his pickup. As he got in he caught her watching him. Once again, he had the feeling that he was missing something with her and he couldn’t fathom what.

      Passing her, he worried about the safety of the bridge.

      He topped the rise and looked at the muddy, rushing water that was tumbling and flowing as rapidly as the night before, sending rivulets over the bridge. It was standing, but the force of the water could have taken a big toll on it. He slowed and saw she was only a short distance behind him. Stopping, she waited while he proceeded.

      As soon as they had crossed, he stopped and walked over to talk to her through her open window. Leaning closer, he pushed his hat to the back of his head. “Would you like to go to dinner tonight?”

      She shook her head. “No, Jared. Business between us is finished. There’s no reason for us to get together again. I meant no sale. And it’s good-bye.”

      He slid his hand behind her head, leaned down and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, aware of her soft hair tangled in his fingers and spilling over his hand.

      He’d caught her by surprise, but she kissed him back, arousing him instantly. He was tempted to open the SUV door, slide inside and take things further, but he knew that would end the kiss.

      She pulled away. She was breathless, her eyes filled with longing, her mouth red from his kiss. “Good-bye, Jared,” she whispered, but her inviting expression contradicted the farewell.

      He stepped back. “Call if you change your mind. Otherwise, I’ll see you soon,” he said, knowing he was annoying her.

      Without a word she drove away and he watched, standing in the road with his hands on his hips, until her beige SUV disappeared from sight.

      She was more beautiful than when she’d been eighteen. More poised, infinitely more sexy. He wanted her and didn’t intend for her to go out of his life until he had seduced her.

      He suspected that might take awhile, but he wasn’t a marrying man and he wasn’t the green twenty-four-year-old that he had been.

      And he still expected to buy her ranch. It would be ridiculous to refuse to sell to him because of old hurts. He didn’t see how she could possibly mean no.

      He climbed into his pickup to cross the river and drive back to the house, lost in thoughts about Megan, about making love to her when she’d been eighteen, naked and passionate. He stirred uncomfortably. He wanted her in his arms in his bed. With a groan he tried to get the erotic images out of mind.

      If he could get past her smoldering anger, she could be seduced. Even as she burned with indignation, she hadn’t rejected his touch and his kisses. Attraction was still alive between them. It was only a matter of time, he felt certain, until seduction. Everything in her cried out to him.

      The future didn’t hinge on Megan selling the ranch to him. He could move on to the next lucrative deal. This had looked like an easy one that could have been handled quickly, made him some easy money and cinched the bet.

      A jingle interrupted his thoughts. He answered his cell phone again, to hear his cousin’s voice.

      “Hey, Matt here. Chase said you’re in South Dakota. I wanted to see if you’ve been washed away. The rain is making national news.”

      “Thanks for call,” Jared replied. “I’m fine. Bridge was underwater last night, but we have sunshine today and the water’s receded.”

      “That’s good news. I hear you’re buying the Sorenson place—that’s sweet payback!”

      “The old man died, but it’s still sweet payback with Megan,” Jared said, thinking about her refusal and feeling certain he’d get his way eventually.

      “Good luck with it. It doesn’t matter, though, I still intend to win our bet.”

      “Wishful thinking. Thanks for your call,” Jared said, smiling and remembering a pugnacious look Matt often had when he wanted something that was difficult to acquire. Beneath the curly black hair was a brain that clicked constantly.

      “Go back to work. You’ll need to do all you can,” Matt teased, and was gone. Jared chuckled over the good-natured teasing and the competitiveness that had been present since as far back as he could remember. He glanced at his calendar, Matt’s call fading from his attention.

      Monday morning, he was scheduled to see his attorney in Sioux Falls before he headed home to Dallas and now he had a lunch appointment with his real estate agent. As Megan invaded his thoughts again, he forgot about a schedule.

      Monday, the eighth of June, he dressed in a charcoal suit and tie and drove himself, leaving behind his bodyguard and chauffeur, feeling secure in South Dakota.

      In Sioux Falls, he drove downtown to his attorney’s office. It was another sunny June day.

      As soon as lunch was finished, he parted with the real estate agent and headed to his car, his thoughts already turning from South Dakota, as he mentally ran through projects for the week. He paused to call his pilot to be certain his plane would be ready. As he talked, he glanced up the wide main street and saw an unmistakable dark head of hair.

      His pulse speeded—it had to be Megan. She stood in front of a restaurant talking to two people with a boy beside her. He had his back to Jared and wore a ball cap.

      Jared recognized her aunt and uncle and guessed that Megan had her son with her.

      Impulsively, he crossed the street in long strides. Megan was dressed in red slacks and a red, short-sleeved cotton shirt and her back was to him. Her hair was caught up in a clip high on her head.

      It had been years since he had seen Olga or Thomas Sorenson, the older half-brother of Megan’s father, Edlund.

      “Hello, there, Megan,” he said cheerfully. They all turned to face him, and once again Megan’s face drained of color.

      “It’s been years,” he said, extending a hand to Thomas Sorenson, who hesitated a few seconds and then reached out. In that first moment, her uncle and aunt had looked as shaken as Megan.

      Under Thomas’s solemn, half-angry gaze, Jared realized something was amiss. Tall and graying, Thomas Sorenson gave him the barest possible handshake. Jared smiled at Olga Sorenson, Thomas’s diminutive blond wife, who merely nodded with tight lips. His sudden departure seven years ago resonated badly with all three adults even today. Jared turned to Megan who was frowning at him.

      “Sorry, if I interrupted you folks, but I saw you and thought I’d say hello. I didn’t intend to intrude,” he said.

      When his pleasant comment was met by awkward silence, his curiosity grew. He glanced at the boy, who was looking at a bright red toy rocket he held in his hands. “This must be your son, Ethan,” Jared said, holding out his hand in greeting. “Ethan, I’m Jared Dalton.”

      The boy looked up and shook hands with Jared.

      “I’m glad to—” Jared’s words died, as if he had been punched in the stomach. With midnight eyes, a cleft in his chin and black curls escaping from his cap, the boy staring back at him was his own image, a face that would match childhood pictures of Jared himself.

      His