One Texas Night.... Sara Orwig

I’m not engaged,” she replied, catching a flicker in the depths of his green eyes. She was amused and annoyed slightly with her brother, but not surprised. Attempting to focus on their conversation, she tried to ignore the warmth of Jared’s hand, his thumb lightly brushing back and forth over her knuckles. A faint touch, yet scalding. She had all the compelling reactions to him that she’d had that first night, now more disturbing because of the hours of passion with him. “Sloan is still protective even though I’m twenty-four and capable of taking care of myself.”

      “I think I’m the one Sloan is trying to manipulate here,” Jared replied. “He still wants me to keep away.”

      “He said you’re almost engaged.”

      Jared’s perfect white teeth flashed in a grin, while he shook his head. “Your rascal brother. No, I’m not about to become engaged. Not even close.”

      “I should have guessed,” she said. She knew she should get them back to a professional discussion, but she was too tempted to flirt with him as she had that magical night. She forced herself to withdraw her hand from Jared’s. “This mansion is filled with treasures.”

      “Take a break and let’s get a cool drink and talk about what I would like your company to do.”

      Was there a streak of disappointment that he was also being professional? “Of course,” she said as she nodded. She would get directions, and then he could stay out of her way. She would tag the things to sell and get ready to list them in a brochure for their clients. With her father doing the research, she should be able to get a complete inventory in two to three weeks at a maximum.

      “Sure. It’s better I hear the directions from you rather than from my dad secondhand.”

      “You could have called me,” he said lightly, startling her for an instant until she realized he was referring to the directions.

      “I figured I would see you here and could get the info. Why did you hire my dad when you have your own company now?” she asked bluntly.

      “Your dad is the best. I’m happy to have my own company, and it’s good, but your dad is the best I’ve ever worked with.”

      “Thank you. I think so, too,” she replied coolly, thinking about Jared’s desire to buy her father’s company. “Dad loves the business, and he intends to keep running it as long as his health holds.”

      “That’s great. So what’s happened in the years between?” he asked again as they strolled down a wide hall filled with statues and oil paintings in ornate frames. The mansion was beautiful, but silent and empty of life, reminding her of a museum.

      “I graduated from college, did an internship at a museum and then was hired by a different museum. After a year I went to work with Dad, and last year he had a heart attack. He was told to sell the business, something he didn’t want to do in spite of your offer. So I took over the fieldwork and let Dad stay in the office.”

      “Sorry to hear all that. Your dad is good at what he does. I liked working with him.”

      “It’s mutual. And so far, it’s working out well,” she said, aware of Jared close beside her as they descended the wide front stairs to the main hall. “What have you done in the intervening years?”

      “More of the same—what I was doing when we met. I have Weston Energy that I took over after my dad died and a few other smaller businesses that I’ve bought. Plus I follow my interests.”

      “Sorry about you losing your dad. He would be very proud of you now, because Weston Energy has become a lot larger since you took over,” she said, knowing the company had been small all the years his dad had ran it, but when Jared had stepped in at his father’s death, it had grown swiftly into a huge conglomerate. “With your dad gone, that leaves you alone, doesn’t it?”

      “I have three aunts. Mom died two years before Dad. She had a heart problem. Otherwise I’m it now.”

      “So you inherited this mansion from the Delaney family.”

      “Yes. My father and Argus Delaney started out together as roughnecks in the oil patch. Both were successful. Dad died before Argus, but Argus already had him in his will. He was always grateful to my dad. I heard Mr. Delaney tell the story a dozen times about how my father saved his life in a well fire. This mansion was to go to my dad, but since he is deceased, it’s mine now.”

      “The whole place is filled with beautiful things, very old, I imagine some very rare,” she said, following the conversation but still more conscious of him beside her, close enough she could detect a hint of his aftershave. The work would be easy once he departed, but being near him was even more disturbing than she had thought it would be.

      “I don’t want them all. Some I like and will keep. As for the others—I don’t know which are valuable and which are merely nice, but of little lasting worth. That’s partially why you’re here,” he said.

      “Dad and I will inventory the contents. I’m taking pictures of everything for the catalog that will show what you want to sell. You’ll see it first, of course, and you can let me know what you want to keep.”

      “I have a better idea,” he said, leading her to a terrace where he motioned her to an outdoor kitchen and dining area. “I’ll go around the place with you and we can talk about what I like, what’s extremely old and valuable, that sort of thing.”

      “That may make this inventory process take longer,” she said, contemplating the hazards of working constantly with him.

      One dark eyebrow arched. “You can’t do that?”

      “Of course I can. I’m just telling you,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact despite her alarming pulse rate. The thought of having him beside her constantly for the next two weeks or more was way too appealing.

      His gaze became intense. “You don’t want to work with me?”

      “We can work together. I’m just telling you the job may take a little longer that way.”

      “That’s all right. If I’m here to tell you what I like, we won’t have misunderstandings. Now we’ve got that settled, what would you like? Iced tea? Coffee? Soda pop?”

      “Tea is fine,” she said, perching on a bar stool to watch him get two tall glasses of iced tea. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to keep this palatial mansion. Do the Delaney heirs mind that you inherited it?”

      “I’m closest with Ryan Delaney, and he’s assured me that they don’t at all. They inherited enough themselves that they’re happy, and Ryan said none of them ever spent time at this place, so it holds no sentimental value for them. His dad got this mansion in a business deal. The previous owners settled a debt by deeding him this place. I’m the fortunate one,” he said, his thickly lashed green eyes making it difficult to pay attention to what he was telling her.

      “There are some things I like, and some I’m uncertain about. I’ll show you pictures of my two houses, and you tell me what you think will fit in and look nice. Otherwise I want to sell the mansion and everything inside it. I’ve told the Delaneys to come get what they want first, but they’ve all indicated they’ll pass.”

      “Then they really don’t want any of this,” she said.

      “No, Ryan said they don’t. I plan to sell the furnishings and art separately from the mansion because I think you and your dad can get me a better deal.”

      “I’m glad you made that decision,” she said lightly.

      “I like some of the old furniture, like the beds in your room and mine.”

      “I haven’t seen yours, but the one in my suite is solid oak and so well preserved. I’m guessing eighteenth-century France,” she said. “I’ve done most of the bedrooms, but I still have four to go.”

      “I’ll show you mine anytime you want to see it,” he said with a faint