Expecting The Rancher's Child

“You think of the ranch as home,” she said a few moments later, after they’d stepped outside and were sitting in chairs facing his patio.

“I told you that I love it here. This is my haven. I can come out here and enjoy the total silence. Sometimes you hear the wind, and sometimes you don’t even hear that. For a few minutes I can imagine the whole world is at peace. Even if it’s not, my little corner of it is.” He grinned. “Obviously, I like the ranch and I’m happiest here.”

“You’re fortunate. Far luckier than you give much thought to. I work with people daily who don’t have a haven, not even a tiny one. Then, there are those who surprise me—one would think they couldn’t possibly feel at peace because they own nothing, but they have an inner sense of a haven. That’s resilience, and it’s amazing.”

“You really like working with those people, don’t you?” he asked, looking more intently at her. He sounded surprised.

“More than anything. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world to help someone, or rescue an animal and find it a loving home, or make someone’s life easier. That’s the best possible reward.”

“That’s commendable, but in my experience people don’t change. You can work your fingers to the bone and not make a difference. With the career you had, there were some very tangible financial rewards and lasting legacies. You could have built your own business instead of working with people who will disappoint and deceive you.”

“You have a cynical view of the world. Expect more from people, Blake. There’s a deep-rooted goodness in most people. Look for that and believe in it.”

“I’m just puzzled. You’ve tossed over a spectacular, successful career, a fabulous reputation and a hefty income for something that will take infinite patience, probably have low financial returns and be a lot of hard work that sometimes goes unappreciated and unrewarded.”

“Wow, Blake. That’s strong. You’re only looking at the downside of what I do.”

“Just looking at it honestly because I can’t understand your great faith in the goodness of human nature.”

“I don’t know what you’ve experienced, but I have seen that people are good and can live up to high expectations, or occasionally exceed them. Look at you. You don’t need money, yet you work hard to build your hotel business.”

He looked away and was silent a moment. She noticed a muscle flex in his jaw and wondered why her question caused him to tense up.

“I want to know that I can be a success in the business world as well as in the ranching world. We all have our goals.”

Wendell appeared, wearing a white apron over his jeans. “Dinner is served.”

“Thank you.” Blake stood. “Leave your wine. There will be some poured at the table.”

She walked with him toward the front of the house, and then they turned into the wide hall. In minutes Wendell directed them to a kitchen that was big enough to hold her Kansas City apartment, but the tempting smell of beef assailed her before she ever stepped inside. Doors stood open to reveal stainless steel appliances and state-of-the-art cookware that, when not in use, would be out of sight behind the elegant dark wood. A tall, slender woman with her brown hair clipped at the back of her head, smiled. Etta wore a white apron over a black uniform.

“Sierra, this is Etta Strong, my cook. Etta, this is Ms. Benson, who is here to plan the decor for our new wing.”

“So what’s for dinner tonight?” he asked as soon as the women had greeted each other.

“Tossed salad with chunks of lobster, slices of avocado on the side and French dressing. Prime rib, asparagus hollandaise, mashed potatoes and gravy and buttermilk biscuits. With homemade peach ice cream,” Etta answered.

“That sounds like a fabulous banquet,” Sierra remarked.

“When you’re seated, I’ll get you started.”

As Sierra walked with Blake to the adjoining informal dining area, she had another view of gardens and his irrigated yard, and marveled at the luxury of his lifestyle. She was thankful again for his check, and after their earlier conversation, she knew he needed to see some of the good his money would do.

They sat at a table that could easily seat ten. Wendell came with a bottle of red wine and one of white. He asked Sierra her choice and tipped red into her glass before pouring Blake’s.

Etta set the prime rib in front of Blake for him to carve. She returned with a bowl of steaming asparagus that she served.

After the first bite of prime rib, Sierra sipped her wine and smiled at Blake. “I have to agree—you have a fabulous cook. This is delicious.”

“Wait until you try her homemade ice cream. Wendell helps her with that.”

“No wonder you like the ranch so much.”

He smiled. “The food is the best, but there’s more than food. Have you ever been to a rodeo?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Actually, one of the best is in New York City, the Professional Bull Riders at Madison Square Garden,” he explained.

“Do you ever participate locally?”

“Sometimes—not as much now as I used to. I have ridden bulls a couple of times, but not seriously. That’s a bit rougher than I’m up for.”

“Aw, shucks,” she said, smiling. “So I won’t see someone I actually know in a rodeo. The pictures I’ve seen look wild.”

“That’s the thrill of it,” he said, and she laughed.

Through dinner, he was charming, keeping the same professional manner as if they were at a business dinner in Kansas City. Even so, there was an undercurrent of sensual awareness, and every minute spent in his company drew her closer to him and heightened his appeal.

As Wendell removed her dinner plate, she smiled. “My compliments to the chef. That was one of the most delicious dinners I’ve ever eaten. I don’t know which was best—that prime rib or those fantastic biscuits.”

“Thank you,” Wendell said, smiling as he started toward the kitchen. “I’ll tell Etta.”

Sierra looked at Blake. “I meant every word of that. What a marvelous cook you have.”

“I do everything I can to hang on to both of them. Etta has a reputation throughout the county—and probably farther than that. If she decided to leave, she would have so many offers, I don’t know how she would decide.”

The peach ice cream was served with white chocolate chip cookies, and they lingered over coffee, which Sierra barely touched. Once again, she thought about the homeless people at the shelter and how they often lived with hunger. Blake’s check would provide food for so many, and again, she felt enormous gratitude for his donation.

“Etta should open a restaurant—talk about natural talent for a job.”

“Don’t put ideas in her head,” he teased.

“Did she cook for your family before cooking for you?” she asked. For a fleeting second, she saw a hard look cross his features. It was gone so quickly, she thought she must have imagined it.

“No. The family she cooked for decided to move to South Texas and sell their ranch. I was friends with her son growing up. We’re the same age and went through school together. He’s a great guy. After graduation from high school, he went to the Air Force Academy and now flies fighter jets. He’s stationed in Europe. They have four other kids who are scattered except for an older, married daughter who has four kids. She lives in Dallas, and the grandkids come out here a lot and stay with Etta and Wendell. They’re cute kids, and we have horses for them—except the little one, who’s too young to turn loose yet.”

“That’s great. Were you born and raised in Dallas?” she asked. This time she had no doubt about the shuttered look she received.

“Yes. My father divorced my mother before I was a year old. He severed all ties with us, so I grew up without knowing him. He has never been a part of my life. If he’s ever spoken to me, it was before I was old enough to remember. I don’t know why, but my mother has never remarried.”

He spoke in a flat voice, and she realized she had touched on a sensitive area. “I’m sorry, Blake,” she said, meaning it, unable to imagine how devastating it would be if her father had rejected her. She thought about her generous, loving dad who had always been a big part of all his children’s lives.

Blake’s voice dropped, and she heard a note of amusement. “Sierra, don’t ever play poker. You look like you’ll start crying over me any minute. Of course, if you want to hold me close and try to console me for being abandoned—”

“Forget it, Blake,” she interrupted, laughing at him. “I see you survived and grew up quite well.”

“I’m friends with my father’s other sons, my half brothers, now because the oldest one and I went to school together. He’s a little younger, but we played football together in high school. Enough said on that subject. Where are you from? New York?”

Still thinking about his abandonment by his father before the age of one, she shook her head. “No. I’m from Kansas. That’s why I came back to work in Kansas City. My dad’s a minister, and I have a big family with a lot of contacts in the city. My mother is a retired teacher, and most of my family is involved in charity projects related to my job. Mom and two of my sisters volunteer at our animal rescue shelter. Dad runs some programs to help people from the shelter get to church. He has free breakfasts at his church every morning... I could keep going. There are six kids in my family, fourteen grandkids and a foster grandchild—soon to be adopted. I’m the one with no kids.”

“That’s a big family. It’s a very different lifestyle from my background, where I grew up with just two of us at home—Mom and me.”

“We were always free to bring our friends home with us, so we constantly had a house filled with kids,” she said, unable to imagine a home of just two.

“Don’t look at me like I was left by myself on the street,” he said with a grin. “I’m not one of your charity projects, although that might be interesting.”

She smiled in return. “There is no way I could see you as a charity project at any point in time. I suspect your mother showered you with love, and you had friends galore.”

“I always thought so,” he answered easily. “Let’s move and let Etta and Wendell clean up and go home.”

“Sure. I want to step into the kitchen and tell Etta how wonderful dinner was. I can’t imagine having someone like that cook for you all the time.”

“It is another draw the ranch holds, although if I had to live in Dallas year round, I’d try to get her to move with me. Wendell, too, of course.”

Blake waited while she went to the kitchen to tell Etta and Wendell again how wonderful dinner had been. She returned to find him leaning one shoulder against a door jamb and looking at her legs. His gaze flew up to meet hers, and there was no mistaking the blatant sexual speculation in his expression.

Trying to ignore the unguarded moment, she crossed the room to join him, and they walked into the big living area overlooking the patio and pool.

“Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll show you the new wing. We can take a quick look tonight and go over the rooms in detail tomorrow—or we can skip anything related to work tonight and let you relax.”

“I can relax while I work. If you care to, you can show me around tonight. I don’t mind at all.”

“Come on and we’ll look,” he said and they headed for the stairs. “Tomorrow I’ll give you blueprints and pictures, so you’ll know what I want. The workmen aren’t completely finished with construction, but they’re far enough along that they’ll finish this week. By the time you’re ready for the actual work, they’ll be gone.

“I told you about the additions earlier. Also, I had an elevator put in because my grandmother visits, and she is getting less enthusiastic about stairs. Mom has her own one-story house on the property, but she rarely spends time there. She’s in Patagonia, sightseeing with friends now, or I would have had her join us for dinner. Here we are—we’ll walk through, and then if you have questions, fire away.”

As they strolled down a wide hall, she was more aware of the tall man beside her than of her surroundings. Their footsteps in the empty, unfinished wing created a hollow sound. When they entered the first suite, she saw that the rooms would be light because of the abundant windows.

She could smell sawdust and new lumber. She was equally aware of the faint scent of Blake’s aftershave, the scrape of his boot heels on the new hardwood floors, of his nearness when he opened doors for her and stepped back to hold them.

Thankful she wouldn’t be working with him on a daily basis, she couldn’t shake the acute awareness of him. As they stood in the large living area of the suite, he turned to her. “Downstairs in the older part of the house I showed you some of the rooms. They all have formal French-style furniture, European antiques, plus one suite holds two-hundred-year-old furniture I bought at an estate sale in New Orleans.”

“The rosewood furniture that’s ornate and elegant. It’s beautiful, Blake,” she said.

“Thanks. I think so. I did that mostly for my mom because she loves that kind of furniture, and she was influential in the selection of the earlier furnishings. Up here, I’d like a change in decor. I’d like these suites to be contemporary with sleek lines, open spaces. That’s more my style.”

“That’s popular now, and there are some beautiful furniture designs available,” she said, walking through the empty rooms while he followed. “You’ll have plenty to choose from.”

“Whoa,” he said. “Sierra, I’m turning this project over to you. I want you to make the decisions about the decor—that’s your field, and I trust you totally. From here on, you take charge. Do your stuff, get it lined up and then show me. I do not want to be too involved.”

“Suppose you don’t like it?” she asked. “People usually want to see some of the early planning. You had people who checked on what I was doing at your hotel.”

“That’s because you’d never worked for us before. Now the early stages will be your deal. I’ve told you contemporary, and we’ll set an upper limit for the cost. I don’t want to be consulted until you’ve made some selections and have sketches showing how it’ll look.”

“That’s flattering, and you’re the boss,” she said. “At least you know what you want.”

“Damn straight,” he said quietly, his voice acquiring that husky note that indicated furniture was no longer on his mind. “I know exactly what I want,” he said.

“All right, Blake. I’ll see if I can please you,” she flung back at him. Her pulse raced as she turned to walk away. When she did, her back tingled, and she felt his gaze on her. Telling herself that it was probably her imagination, she had no intention of turning to see if he was studying her.

The suites in the new wing were roomy, each unique, one with arched, wide windows giving a panoramic view of his lighted pool.

As she turned, she once again caught Blake gazing at her with a lustful look. She met his gaze and the moment intensified, her surroundings disappearing, leaving only the tall, handsome man facing her.

Her heart pounded as she left the room. “I’ll move on,” she said over her shoulder without glancing back.

They had only started looking and had the rest of the wing to finish. She drew a deep breath, determined to keep her mind on business. Not so easy when she was beside him or when she caught him looking at her with unmistakable desire.

Again, she was grateful that he didn’t live on the ranch full-time.

They looked at suites with large rooms, lots of glass and open spaces, big walk-in closets and bathrooms large enough to hold several pieces of furniture besides the usual bathroom equipment. She could envision some beautiful suites.

“You’ll have a hotel when you finish,” she said, amused. “This would even be big for my family.”

He smiled. “I like plenty of room. I do have company, and I have family now, thanks to Cade and my other half brothers. When they come to visit they need their own space. I told you before, Nate is married. He’s two years younger than Cade. He has a beautiful wife and a beautiful little baby daughter who is about two months old. They are back east right now, visiting her parents.”

“Is Cade the one close to your age?”

“Yes. Cade is the Callahan I know best. He’s the oldest of the three. Gabe is the youngest.”

While they talked, she gazed into his dark brown eyes. She was aware of how close he stood, and she considered initiating conversations only when standing across the room from him. This intense reaction was unique, disturbing and something she couldn’t understand. She turned to walk away, reminding herself to keep a professional distance between them.

“That’s it,” he said finally when they finished. “It’s early. Let’s go downstairs and talk for a while. You’ll live and work in my house temporarily, so we might as well get to know each other.”

She knew now was the moment to politely decline, but looking into his midnight eyes, she couldn’t. “For a while,” she said, unable to resist accepting his invitation. What was it about him that held so much forbidden appeal?

As they walked downstairs, he asked, “Want anything to eat or drink? We have desserts, more ice cream and an after-dinner liqueur. What would you like?”

“Just a glass of ice water, please,” she said.

They went to the sitting room at the back of the house, and he stepped behind the bar to get ice water for her and a beer for himself.

As she sat in a straight wingback chair, he sank down on a large brown leather chair facing her, sipped his beer and set it on a table. “Do you plan to stay with the nonprofit, or will you go back to decorating someday?”

“I plan to stay where I am. A project I have dreamed about is finding foster parents for homeless kids—now with the funds you provided, maybe we’ll be able to start that program. You would have room to take one,” she teased.

He gave her a startled look and then smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting a fraction. “That’s commendable, but a little kid right now wouldn’t fit in with my lifestyle.”

“Nonsense. You can hire nannies, maids and tutors, whomever you need.”

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