Bargaining for King's Baby / The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition. Maureen Child

had felt the darkness, too, so she couldn’t really argue the point. But she’d known Adam and his brothers all of her life. And she’d always wanted to be the one to ease the darkness back for him.

      Stupid, she supposed. What is it with women that we all want to be the one to “save” a guy? she wondered.

      She was still standing there, watching after Adam, even though he’d already gone into the ranch house for his meeting with her father. And finally, Gina felt her mother watching her. “What?”

      “I see something in your eyes, Gina,” her mother whispered, worry tightening her mouth and flashing in her gaze.

      Gina immediately turned away and started walking toward the horses in the meadow. She still felt a little shaky so she made sure her steps were long and steady. Lifting her chin, she whipped her hair back out of her eyes and said, “I don’t know what you mean, Mom.”

      Teresa wasn’t so easily put off, however. She hurried after her daughter, took hold of Gina’s arm and dragged her to a stop. Looking into her eyes, Teresa said, “You cannot fool me. There is something there in you for Adam King. And you must not surrender to it.”

      Surprised, Gina laughed. “Excuse me? This from the woman who not five minutes ago was telling me to get married and start having babies?”

      “Not with him,” Teresa said. “Adam King is the one man I do not want for you.”

      Unfortunate.

      Since Adam King was the only man Gina wanted.

      Two

      Adam knocked on the front door, waited impatiently and then jerked to attention when a shorter, older man opened it and smiled out at him.

      “Adam,” Sal Torino said, stepping back and waving him inside. “Right on time, as always.”

      “Sal. Thanks for seeing me.” Adam stepped into the house and glanced around. It had been a long time since he was last here, but he noticed that the place hadn’t changed much.

      The entryway was wide and lit from above by a skylight that spilled sunshine in a wash of gold across the gleaming pine floors. The hall leading to the back of the house was covered in framed family photos of smiling kids and proud parents. The high, arched doorway that led into the living room where Sal gestured for Adam to follow had been unchanged, as well. The walls were still a soft, warm yellow, the furniture was oversize and comfortable, and a stone hearth, cold now, held a copper urn filled with fresh flowers. Sal took a seat on the sofa and reached for a coffeepot sitting on a tray atop a wide, scarred pine table.

      While Sal poured coffee Adam didn’t want, he wandered the room and stopped at the curved bay window. The glass gleamed in the morning light and provided a sweeping view of the neatly trimmed lawn ringed by ancient oak trees. Adam hardly noticed, though. His mind was already focused on the task at hand: How he would convince Sal to sell him the land he needed.

      “So, what brings Adam King to my house first thing in the morning?”

      Adam turned around to look at his neighbor. Sal stood about five foot eight, had thick black hair streaked with gray, skin as weathered and tanned as old leather and sharp brown eyes.

      He walked over to take the coffee cup Sal offered him and then had a sip just to be polite. Sitting down opposite the other man, Adam cupped the heavy mug between his palms and said, “I want to talk to you about that twenty-acre parcel in your north pasture, Sal.”

      The older man’s face split in an understanding smile as he leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Ah.”

      It wasn’t good business to let your opponent know how badly you wanted something. But Sal Torino was no dummy. The King family had made offers for that land several times over the last couple of decades and Sal had always turned them down flat. So, he already knew how important this was to Adam. No point in trying to pretend otherwise.

      “I want that land, Sal, and I’m willing to make you a deal that’ll give you a hell of a profit on it.”

      Shaking his head Sal took a gulp of coffee, swallowed and sighed. “Adam…”

      “Hear me out.” Adam leaned forward, set his coffee cup down on the tray and sat back again, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “You don’t use that piece of land for grazing or pasture. It’s just sitting there.”

      Sal smiled and shook his head again. Fine. He was stubborn. Adam could appreciate that. He bit down on the impatience scratching at his insides and forced a congenial tone to his voice. “Think about this, Sal. I’m willing to make you another substantial offer for the property.”

      “Why is this so important to you?”

      Now we play the game. Adam wished this were all somehow easier. Sal knew damn well about Adam’s quest to make the King ranch whole again, but clearly he was going to have to spell it all out.

      “It’s the last piece of the original King family holdings,” Adam said tightly. “Which you already know.”

      Sal smiled again and Adam thought the older man sort of looked like a benevolent elf. Too bad he didn’t look like an elf who wanted to sell. “So let’s get down to business here. You don’t need the land. I want the land. Simple as that. So what do you say?”

      “Adam,” Sal started, pausing for another sip of coffee, “I don’t like selling land. What’s mine is mine. You know that. You feel the same way I do.”

      “Yes, and that parcel is mine, Sal. Or it should be. It started out King land. It should be King land again.”

      “But it isn’t.”

      Adam quietly seethed with frustration.

      “I don’t need your money.” Sal sat forward, set his coffee cup down and then stood up to wander the room. “You know that, and yet, you come to me anyway, thinking to sway me with an argument for profit margins.”

      “Making a profit’s not a sin, Sal,” Adam countered.

      “Money is not the only thing a man thinks about, though.”

      Sal stopped at the hearth, leaned one arm on the heavily carved mantel and looked down at Adam.

      Adam wasn’t used to being the one on the defensive in a negotiation. And looking up at Sal from the comfort of a too-soft chair made him feel at a disadvantage, so he stood up, too. Shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans, he watched the older man and wondered what Sal was up to.

      “I hear an implied ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Adam said. “So why don’t you just tell me what you’ve got in mind and we can decide if we’re going to be able to make a deal.”

      “Ah,” Sal said. “So impatient. You should learn to enjoy life more, Adam. It’s not good to build a life solely on business.”

      “Works for me.”

      Adam wasn’t interested in listening to advice. He didn’t want to hear about “enjoying” life. All he wanted was that last piece of land.

      “There was a time when you didn’t feel that way,” Sal mused and the smile slipped off his features even as his dark eyes went soft and sympathetic.

      Adam stiffened perceptibly. The worst part of living in a small town was having everyone for miles around knowing your personal business. Sal, he knew, was trying to be nice, so he kept a lid on the simmering knot of something ugly inside him. People thought they knew him. Thought they could understand what he was feeling, thinking. But they were wrong.

      He wasn’t interested in sympathy any more than he was looking for advice. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. Adam’s life was just as he wanted it.

      Except for owning that damned piece of land.

      “Look, Sal,” Adam said slowly, quietly, “I’m not here to talk about my life.