The Cowboy's Lullaby. Judy Duarte

      “I take pride in my work,” she said. “And it’s no trouble at all.”

      The warm aroma of cinnamon and spice drifted in from the kitchen, and his stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d only had an espresso earlier. “Something sure smells good.”

      Mrs. Davies beamed. “It’s the zucchini muffins in the oven. Desiree told me you liked them. And they’re almost ready.”

      How would Desiree have known that? he wondered. Had he mentioned it to her once? If so, it was odd that she’d remember. And that she’d pass that tidbit of information along.

      On the other hand, he didn’t have a clue as to what kind of things Desiree had liked. He’d never noticed, never cared. And although it hadn’t bothered him before, he felt a bit remiss right now.

      “I’ve made a lemon meringue pie, too,” the housekeeper added.

      Another favorite of Jake’s.

      It was as though Desiree was trying hard to make him feel welcomed, yet instead her efforts—or rather her predeath orders—only made him…uneasy. And undeserving.

      “It’s pretty quiet in here,” he said, trying his best to shrug off his discomfort.

      “Everyone else is still asleep.”

      He glanced at his watch—10:07 a.m. Apparently, Chloe was a night owl. A lot of prima donnas were. He hoped that kind of attitude didn’t rub off on his little sister.

      “How’s Brianna doing?” he asked.

      “Last night was a bit rough. She had a crying spell, then had a difficult time falling asleep. Chloe read to her until at least eleven, which is when I finally turned in.”

      Okay, so maybe he’d been wrong about the prima donna thing—at least, last night.

      At the sound of footsteps padding along the hallway, Jake spotted Chloe entering the living room wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and low-riding sweatpants.

      She yawned, then ran a hand through her tousled hair, an acrylic nail snagging on a rumpled red curl.

      Seeing her like that, fresh out of bed, was more arousing that he cared to admit. And even though she was fairly well covered, she looked as sexy as hell, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

      He wanted to suggest she go back and put on a robe, but wouldn’t. No need for her to suspect the kind of effect she had on him.

      “Good morning,” the housekeeper said, her voice as tight as the rubber band in a cocked and primed slingshot. “Now that you’re up, I’ll put on a pot of coffee and whip up some breakfast.”

      “Thank you,” Chloe said. “I’m not much of an eater in the morning, but I’d love a cup of coffee.”

      When they were alone, Jake set his bags on the floor and crossed his arms. It was time to lay it on the line, to find out what Chloe’s thoughts were about all of this and what he was up against. “I imagine that you aren’t any happier about things than I am.”

      Chloe met his stare, lifting her chin a little. “You’re right.” She wasn’t at all pleased about leaving her dance studio and relying on someone else to look after her rental properties. And she wasn’t especially comfortable living in someone else’s house and having a live-in housekeeper/cook, either.

      Mrs. Davies was nice enough, but she had an innate way of lifting her nose and arching a brow whenever Chloe did or said anything she considered unconventional. And since Chloe never paid much attention to social mores, the older woman’s nose and brow seemed to be in constant motion.

      Then, to make matters worse, she had to deal with a man who was too conservative for his own good, a man she suspected would try to control her every chance he got.

      She strode toward the cream-colored leather sofa and sat on the armrest. “But do you know what? If I had asked Desiree to make a sacrifice for me, she wouldn’t have thought twice about doing so.”

      Jake didn’t respond.

      “And whether you believe it or not,” Chloe added, “Desiree would have done the same for you.”

      “We weren’t that close,” he said.

      “I know. And I’m sorry for your loss. It was huge.”

      He studied her for a moment with those baby-blue eyes that suggested a softness she doubted he had. “You’re probably right about that.”

      His agreement took her aback, and she tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

      “What did she tell you about me?” he asked, watching her intently. Too intently.

      “Not much. Just that you reminded her of your father, a man she adored. And that she’d give anything to make you feel comfortable enough to visit the ranch more often.”

      “I was busy.”

      “She’d said that, too.”

      He shifted his weight to one foot. “I made it for Christmas and holidays. It’s not like I was a complete stranger.”

      Token visits, Desiree had told Chloe. And if she’d ever had any regrets about her marriage to Gerald Braddock, it was the fact that she’d unintentionally caused a rift of sorts between father and son.

      “What else?” Jake asked.

      “Actually, we didn’t discuss you all that much. I’d heard you were driven. And stubborn. But that you were handsome, too. Is that what you meant?”

      He squirmed a bit at the physical description, which she couldn’t help spouting, even though it hadn’t really come up. But since Desiree had said he looked like his father, and Gerald Braddock was a gorgeous older man, Chloe had put two and two together.

      However, her addition had come up short. She hadn’t realized just how attractive Jake was. How appealing she might find him. Or how she might, under different circumstances, be tempted to…well, maybe not pursue him romantically. But flirting was always fun.

      She’d learned early on that men like him weren’t the kind to pin her heart on. Of course, she wasn’t sure just what type of man was the kind she could trust for the long haul.

      “For what it’s worth,” Jake said, “I don’t know what negative things Desiree may have said about me, but I’m not a bad guy.”

      Not entirely, Chloe supposed, but Desiree must have had a good reason not to give him full custody of Brianna.

      “You don’t believe me?” he asked.

      “Sure I do.” She tried to force sincerity into her smile, yet a veil of skepticism slid over his angular face.

      He didn’t object, which she appreciated. She wasn’t up for a confrontation until after she’d had her morning coffee.

      Still, her temporary housemate could be considered eye candy, with dark curly hair that brushed his collar, a complexion that suggested some Latin blood and eyes the color of Mission Bay.

      Too bad he was so stuffy.

      A rebellious spirit she sometimes used as a defensive ploy swept over her, and she decided to flirt and make him squirm—a game she’d played for years. Of course, she’d only mess with him like that when Brianna wasn’t around.

      Before she could conjure a teasing remark, Barbara entered the room. “Coffee’s ready.”

      “Good.” Chloe slid from her seat on the armrest and followed the housekeeper back to the kitchen.

      She’d have to put the flirting on hold for the time being and take care of her morning caffeine addiction.

      Yet, in spite of her craving for a hot cup of java, she glanced over her shoulder, only to find Jake rooted to the spot in which she’d left him, eyes locked on her. Or rather