Do You Take This Enemy?. Sara Orwig

besides, he doesn’t want my body. Like you said, he just wants my land.”

      “Don’t do this, Ashley. I hate the thought of you going out with him,” Quinn grumbled. “I can take care of myself and this ranch. We’ve just had a little setback. Marry him! The man has nerve. I’d like to take my shotgun and run him off the place and forget it.”

      “I don’t think that would be good for your blood pressure,” Ashley responded dryly. “I wish you wouldn’t even think about it.”

      “I think it would make me feel immensely better to run him off our ranch. I don’t want you to go out with him.”

      “And I don’t want to go, but I think I should hear him out. His offer may hold possibilities,” she reminded him, feeling as if she were arguing with herself instead of her father.

      “Ashley, to be caught up in a marriage—any marriage—would still be hellish. That means dealing every day with someone you can’t stand to be around.”

      “I might manage to stand to be around him,” she answered quietly, thinking how sparks flew between them when they were together.

      Her father swore softly and she felt torn between conflicting needs. “I can’t stop you,” he admitted.

      “It’s just a dinner. Only a few hours and I’ll be back home.”

      Her father stared beyond her and shook his head. He tossed down his napkin. “I have to get outside and walk around while I think about this.”

      “Please don’t worry. Forty-eight hours from now the time with him will be history.”

      As Quinn left the room, Ashley rubbed her pounding head. She was half tempted to cancel the dinner date, but then she thought about her dad’s health, the debt that was accumulating, and she knew she had to go out with Gabe.

      After breakfast the next morning she went to her room and looked at her clothes. She waded through her dresses and finally decided on a dark blue, high-waisted sheath dress. Something simple and dark. She wanted to wear a hood over her head. The world grew smaller daily and the chances of running into someone they knew loomed large to her.

      She was on edge most of the day, and her nerves still jangled when she finally went to her bedroom to get ready for her date. Closing the door behind her, she looked at the room where she had grown up. It still held her maple four-poster bed, maple furniture with a rocker covered in blue cushions. An oriental rug covered the floor. As a girl, how many nights had she slept in that bed and dreamed of Gabe Brant, fantasizing about a date with him? Well, she finally was going on that date.

      He had lost his parents and wife all within the past few years. She knew he had to hurt over those losses. Whether he grieved or not, Gabe was tough and ruthless.

      She kept thinking about Julian. The little boy was adorable. Marry the father and she would have a son. She drew a deep breath. She shouldn’t marry him because of his little boy.

      Was she setting herself up, too, for another heartache like Lars? Trusting a man again when she shouldn’t?

      She bathed and pulled on the simple, dark-blue sleeveless cotton dress. With care she pinned her hair behind her head. She put on her diamond stud earrings and watch. She studied herself in the mirror, turning first one way and then another. She was seven months pregnant and that was that. She couldn’t change her shape.

      With one last glance at the mirror, she prayed to herself that her father didn’t come home until after she was gone. He had argued with her about the dinner date, but had finally accepted that she wanted to go.

      To her dismay, when she entered the family room, her father sat in his leather recliner, reading a magazine. She saw he had cleaned up for the occasion. He wore a fresh blue shirt and jeans. His hair was damp and recently combed and he scowled slightly as he read. When she stepped into the room, he looked up.

      “Don’t you look nice,” he said.

      “I look big.”

      “Well, that’s the way you should be and you really aren’t very big to be ready to deliver in two months,” he said reassuringly. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind about tonight? I can go out and run Brant off when he gets here.”

      “I want to hear what he has to say. You know I’m not going to do anything to hurt the ranch or you.”

      “That’s what’s worrying me. I think you’re doing this for me and for the ranch. All the wrong reasons.”

      The doorbell interrupted their conversation. “He’s at the front door,” she said. “I’ll bring him in and introduce you.”

      “We’ve met. I’d still like to get my shotgun and run him off.”

      “Just hang on to your temper.” She headed to the door, feeling butterflies in her stomach that didn’t have a thing to do with her pregnancy or her father’s anger.

      She swung open the door to face Gabe Brant.