Your Ranch...Or Mine?

“The office is just down the hall and to your...”

“I know where it is,” she snapped, cutting him off. To have a rank stranger try to direct her through a house that held the happiest memories of her childhood irritated her as little else could.

Her heart ached with unshed tears when she walked into her grandfather’s office. How could everything look the same and yet be entirely different from the last time she was here?

“Please have a seat, Ms....”

“My name is Taylor Scott,” she answered automatically.

Nodding, Donaldson motioned toward one of the two big leather armchairs in front of the desk. “Would you like something to drink, Taylor?”

The sound of his deep baritone saying her name caused an interesting little flutter in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium and lowered herself onto the chair. “N-no, thank you.”

He placed his hat on the credenza, then walked around the desk to sit in the high-backed chair. “What is it that you wanted to discuss with me?”

Maybe if she waited to reveal her identity she could get him to incriminate himself as having cheated her grandfather. “I’d like to know what you intend to do with your interest in the Lucky Ace,” she stated, meeting his dark brown gaze head on.

She wasn’t surprised when his expression remained unreadable. After all, he was a professional poker player and well practiced at keeping his emotions concealed.

“I’m not in the habit of discussing something of this nature with a stranger,” he said as if choosing his words carefully.

“I understand you won half of the ranch from Ben Cunningham.” When he nodded, she went on. “I’m here to make you an offer for your share.”

He slowly shook his head. “It’s not for sale.”

“Are you sure, Donaldson? The offer I’m willing to make is quite generous.”

“Please, call me Lane,” he said, giving her a smile that caused her heart to skip a beat. Several of Hollywood’s leading men were among her clients. They’d spent thousands of dollars on dental and cosmetic surgery and still couldn’t come close to having his perfect smile.

Giving herself a mental shake, she decided to focus on the fact that he was a swindler and ignore his good looks, as well as his request to call him by his first name. That was more personal than she cared to get with the man.

“I’m prepared to pay you well above market value if you can vacate the property within a week,” she pressed.

“I’m quite happy here, and even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t consider selling my share of the Lucky Ace without consulting my partner first, and he’s currently in California.” He silently stared at her, as if analyzing the situation, before he spoke again. “Why do you think you want my share of the ranch?”

“I don’t think I want the ranch. I know I want it,” she said impatiently.

“Why?” he demanded. She could tell she was getting to him when he sat forward, showing the first signs that he was becoming irritated with the situation.

Confident that she was gaining the upper hand, she couldn’t help but smile. “Before we get into that, could I ask you a couple of questions, Donaldson?”

He stared at her for a moment before he answered. “You can ask, but I’m not guaranteeing that I’ll give you the answers you want to hear.”

“How did you manage to get Ben Cunningham to wager any part of this ranch in that poker game last fall?” she queried.

“Why do you think it was my idea that he use the Lucky Ace to cover his bet?” he asked, slowly leaning back in the desk chair.

“Are you saying he voluntarily put it up?” she shot back.

“Why do you think otherwise, Taylor?” he asked, sounding irritatingly calm.

She had heard that he was a licensed psychologist, and it seemed that the rumor was true. Instead of answers, he followed every one of her questions with one of his own—like any good therapist would do. Taylor decided right then and there that if he asked her how she felt about the situation, she was going to reach across the desk and bop him a good one.

“I happen to know that he wouldn’t have wagered the ranch unless he was certain he had the winning hand,” she stated flatly.

“So you know Mr. Cunningham?” he asked, his expression still as bland as dry toast.

“Yes, I know him quite well. But we’ll get to that later.” She was getting nowhere fast and it infuriated her no end that Donaldson remained calm and collected when she was filled with nothing but frustration and anger. She was ready for a verbal battle, but he wasn’t taking the bait. “What I’d like to know is why you’re living here in his house.”

“That’s none of your business, Ms. Scott.” Addressing her in a more formal way was the only outward indication he was losing patience.

“You’ve won several of the larger poker tournaments and I would think that with your wealth you would prefer something a bit more urban than a ranch house in the middle of nowhere,” she said, hoping he would give her an indication of why he had taken up residence in her grandfather’s home.

“Nice try, Taylor.” To her surprise, a slow smile curved his mouth. “Now, why don’t we start over and you tell me what you’ve been dancing around since we came in here?”

Deciding that he wasn’t going to divulge anything without her telling him who she was, she took a deep breath. “I’m Ben Cunningham’s granddaughter and I want to know how you got him to bet half of the ranch in that poker game, why you’re staying here and what it will take to get you to sell your interest and get off the Lucky Ace for good.”

“Since you’re here grilling me, I take it that Ben hasn’t supplied you with the answers to your questions?” he asked, raising one black eyebrow.

“No.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons for not telling you, and I’m not going to betray his trust.” He shook his head. “But I can tell you that he suggested I move into the house to watch over the place while he was in California visiting with you and your parents.”

“What about getting him to bet half of the ranch?” she demanded, not at all satisfied with his unwillingness to tell her what she wanted to know. “How did you manage that?”

“I had nothing to do with him putting up any part of the ranch. It was his idea and his alone,” Donaldson answered.

“I have a hard time believing that, Donaldson.” Unable to sit still any longer, Taylor rose to her feet to pace back and forth in front of the desk. “He bought this land sixty years ago with his first poker winnings. It was his pride and joy and when he and my grandmother married, they built this house and raised my mother here. In all that time, he never once considered risking any part of it. Why would he suddenly change his mind last fall?”

“You’ll have to ask Ben.” He smiled. “I haven’t heard from him in a couple of months. How is your grandfather? Is he enjoying his time in sunny California? Has he mentioned when he’ll be coming back to the ranch?”

Taylor stopped pacing and turned to face him. Her eyes burning with tears she refused to allow her nemesis to see, she took a deep, steadying breath. “Grandpa passed away about three weeks ago.”

Donaldson’s smile immediately disappeared. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Ben was a good man and the best poker player I’ve ever had the privilege to know. You have my deepest sympathy.”

“T-thank you,” she said, sinking into the armchair. Talking about her grandfather, knowing he was gone and that she had been powerless to stop the inevitable, was overwhelming.

“Here, drink this,” he said, handing her a glass tumbler as he lowered himself into the armchair beside her.

Lost in her misery, she hadn’t been aware that he’d risen from the chair behind the desk. “What is it?” she asked, looking at the clear liquid in the glass.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s just water.”

“Oh.”

“How did Ben die?” he asked softly.

“He had a massive heart attack,” she said woodenly. “He’d apparently known about his heart condition for quite some time, but didn’t tell anyone. When I learned about it, I insisted that he see the top cardiologist in Los Angeles. But it was too late. He went into cardiac arrest the day before he was scheduled for open-heart surgery.”