Hart's Baby

“You’re not going to like everything in there,” she told him in a whisper, repeating the words he’d already told himself. Then she added, “I didn’t.”

He knew Chad wasn’t perfect. Hell, thankfully none of the Hart brothers had that heavy burden to bear. But they did know their obligations.

He skimmed the first report. Pertinent details leaped out, details that incriminated Chad.

Chad had been dating Jeanie. She’d been seen leaving his hotel room, a seedy little place off the highway in Montana, at seven o’clock in the morning. Chad’s team-roping partner called Chad’s room one night and the phone had been answered by a sleepy-sounding Jeanie.

“Well?”

Zach’s hope that Chad, and the Harts, would be completely cleared had vanished. Zach felt backed into a corner.

He despised corners.

Still, there was no proof. Circumstantial evidence didn’t hold much weight. And he clung to that.

Zach looked at Cassandra, his nostrils pinched. She appeared so expectant, so damn hopeful, it stuck in his craw. Everything and everyone seemed to recede, except them and their problem. “This report proves nothing.”

“Proves—” her hands fisted “—nothing?”

“Chad may have had some involvement with your sister, but apparently he wasn’t the only man she showed an interest in.”

Cassandra’s eyes lost some of their spark, and he hated himself for being the one to extinguish it. Still, if she caused any pain to his mother, he’d hate himself even worse. He wouldn’t back down, would do what he had to do. “The report states she was a rodeo groupie, that—”

“I’m well aware of every word in there.”

“In that case...” Zach saw his checkbook where he’d left it on the table, already open and waiting.

“You’re disturbing the baby,” Margaret reprimanded. “Go into your office, Zachary. I’ll baby-sit.”

The tone of his mother’s voice brooked no argument. With a tight nod, he said, “My office, Ms. Morrison.”

“But...”

“Young William will be all right with his granny,” Margaret assured Cassie.

Zach’s hold on his temper frayed at the edges. “My office. Now.”

“Maybe we can just—”

“Now.”

“Go on,” Margaret said. “His bark is worse than his bite. He’s harmless.” Looking at her son, she warned, “Zachary, behave yourself, young man.”

He held open the door for Cassandra, indicating she should leave the room. He led the way through the entryway and down the hall and she followed, her reluctance seeming to disappear as they drew closer to his office. When she brushed by him, her shoulders were squared in confrontation and not a single ounce of capitulation.

His pulse quickened. He looked forward to the challenge... and especially the triumph.

Two

“Have a seat,” Zach said, sliding into the leather chair behind his desk.

Fear and frustration warred within Cassie. This was his office, his territory, and she was the interloper. Control and power hung in the air, as if the walls bore his stamp of authority.

Was it too late to change her mind, say she didn’t want a private conversation in a room so vividly marked by his masculinity?

A few pictures dominated the walls, mostly of racehorses he’d raised. Several framed photos sat on his desk, the backs toward her. She’d learned that pictures revealed a lot about their owners. What story did Zach’s tell? That he cherished his family, a girlfriend, or a wife?

She hadn’t noticed a ring on his hand, but having grown up in a rural community, the absence didn’t seem remarkable. A lot of men refused to wear rings in case they got caught in farm equipment.

“Ms. Morrison?” he prompted.

Cassie slipped into the chair, then realized it hadn’t been designed for comfort. The leather depths swallowed her whole. Sitting there in front of him, she felt small and defenseless, just the way, she imagined, he wanted her to feel.

But she wasn’t defenseless, nor was she small. Stiffening her spine, she resolved to prove that to him, along with the fact she was right about her sister and he was wrong about his brother. Calling on fortitude, she scooted to the edge of the seat and perched there.

He’d obviously found a comfortable position, leaning back with one ankle perched atop the opposite knee. He waited silently, studying her intently. His hands were steepled, his fingers resting near his mouth. He looked every inch an enemy...her enemy.

This definitely wasn’t the way she’d hoped the meeting would go. She’d dreamed of Billy being welcomed like a long-lost relative, brought into the protective fold of familial relationships. She and Billy had made the long, hot trek from Nebraska to Wyoming, and she’d kept that vision clearly in mind the whole way. Margaret had been all Cassie could hope for. But Zach...he was a law unto himself.

Closing her eyes for a second, she offered a silent thanks that Margaret had answered the door rather than him. If it had been Zach who’d turned the handle, Cassie knew she would have been tossed on her rear, the threat of a lawsuit nipping at her resolve.

When she opened her eyes, it was to find the same expression of infinite patience on his face. She easily imagined him in a tough negotiation to buy land or horses. He would never flinch, she knew. He’d remain calm until the deal was cut to his advantage.

“Mr. Hart, I understand, and more, I respect your need for caution.”

He inclined his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. The unruly hair made him seem less perfect, not vulnerable, but human. She wondered if looks truly were deceiving.

Judiciously she chose her next words. “Your mother mentioned you have reason to distrust women.”

“Did she?” He forced his shoulders back a fraction of an inch, farther into the soft and supple leather. “And what else did my mother share while you two were enjoying a cozy chat?”

“That’s all she told me,” Cassandra assured him, recognizing she’d already said too much. In the oppressive quiet, she twisted her hands in her lap, then abruptly stopped fidgeting when she realized he’d neatly noted her every movement.

She promised herself she’d push on, even though she realized he wouldn’t provide anything but a hindrance. And the sooner this was all over, the better.

She hated disagreements of any kind and would have preferred to spend her summer vacation at home, tutoring the kids who counted on her during the summer. Instead, she was in a man’s office who at best distrusted her, at worst thought she wanted a piece of his heritage. But the things she’d been through left her no choice. She was Billy’s only hope. She wouldn’t forget that. “I’m not the woman who hurt you. I’m not out to get you or your family.”

His brow arched, a dark motion of skepticism.

“I’ll prove it,” she said rashly, wondering how she’d ever keep her promise. “Let’s work together.” Leaning forward, she met his gaze. Right now, his blue eyes were frosted over, reminding her of clouds gathering across the sky. “We both want the same thing.”

“Do we, Ms. Morrison?” He emphasized the Ms., as if the title were worthy of nothing but derision.

Her sense of justice prickled.

“I assume it’s not Mrs. or Miss?”

She preferred to be addressed by her first name, and her students called her Miss Cassie. Still, she didn’t want Zach to have any ammunition to encourage intimacy. Intimacy with Zachary Hart was the last thing she wanted, especially since her long-neglected feminine instincts had already started cataloging him as a handsome man.