Your Ranch...Or Mine?

“Are you sure?” Was that relief she detected in his deep baritone? Had he felt the tension surrounding them as well?

Forcing a smile, she nodded. “I won’t be long.”

When he turned and walked down the hall toward the front of the house, Taylor placed her forearms on the sink and sagged against it. How could one man exude so much sex appeal? And why on earth wasn’t she impervious to it?

Lane Donaldson was the intruder—the enemy—and the very last man she should find appealing. But as she finished wiping off the counters, she had to admit that beyond his devastating good looks, there was a certain charm about him that any woman would find hard to resist. How many men still had the manners to hold a chair for a woman when she sat down at the table? Or insist on retrieving her bag from the car and carrying it upstairs, especially after she had accused him of stealing part of her grandfather’s ranch?

She did feel a bit guilty about that. But at the time she had been angry and certain that her grandfather had been victimized by Donaldson. But now?

She still wasn’t sure that he hadn’t exploited her grandfather. But there was one thing she was certain of—he wasn’t going to take advantage of her.

“All finished in the kitchen?” Donaldson asked over his shoulder when she pushed the screen door open and walked out onto the porch a few minutes later. He was sitting on the steps with his forearms propped on his knees, staring out at the sun sinking low in the western sky.

“There wasn’t really much left to do,” she answered, walking over to sit in the porch swing.

They were both silent for several long minutes before he finally spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about our situation,” he said slowly. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve come up with a solution.”

“Are you going to sell me your share of the ranch?” she asked. As far as she was concerned, that was the only acceptable answer.

His deep chuckle sent a shiver streaking up her spine. “No. And I’m betting you aren’t willing to sell me yours.”

“Not a chance,” she shot back.

“I figured as much.” He got to his feet and walked over to lean one shoulder against the porch support post in front of her. “But I think the one thing we do agree on is the fact that the way things are now is unacceptable.”

She nodded. “You’re right about that. There’s nothing about this that I find even remotely acceptable.”

“Before I tell you what I have in mind, I’d like to ask that you hear me out before you give me your answer,” he said, folding his arms across his wide chest. “Do you think you can do that, Taylor?”

His deep baritone voice saying her name caused her to catch her breath. “A-all right. What have you come up with?”

“I want us to play poker,” he said, meeting her questioning gaze. “If you win, I’ll sell you my share of the Lucky Ace and you’ll be rid of me for good.”

Taylor’s heart sank. Her grandfather might have been a world-class poker player, but she had never taken an interest in the game and didn’t have a clue about how to play. What chance would she have against someone like Donaldson?

Besides, she wasn’t entirely certain she could trust that he would play honestly. And even if he did, he was a professional and in the same elite category as her grandfather had been. She wouldn’t have a prayer of winning against him.

“And if you should happen to win?” she asked, knowing she wasn’t going to like his answer.

He smiled. “If I win, you go back to California and I stay right here.”

“Absolutely not,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not taking a chance of losing my share—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “You promised to hear me out.”

Glaring at him, she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “All right,” she conceded. “Continue.”

“I didn’t mention anything about you losing your interest in the ranch,” he said calmly. “If I win, you would retain your half of the place, go back to California and be content with occasional visits. And I’m sure we can come to an agreement on how often you want to receive reports and dividend checks, as well as sign documents stating that if either of us ever decide we want to sell our share, we’ll give the other the first right of purchase.”

Suspicious, she asked, “Why are you willing to be so generous? You told me that if I won, you would sell me your half. Doesn’t that work both ways? Wouldn’t you want my share if I lost?”

“It’s true that I’d like to own the entire property,” he admitted. “But I know this land belonged to your grandfather and that you have a sentimental attachment to it. I respect that and wouldn’t ask you to give it up if it means that much to you.”

“Why do you want it?” she demanded. There had to be a reason behind his stubbornness about not selling his part of the ranch and she was determined to find out what it was. “You don’t have the same ties to it that I do.”

He paused for a moment as he stared down at his boots. When he looked up, he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I finished growing up on a place a lot like this one and until I moved here last fall, I didn’t realize how much I missed living on a ranch.”

“Surely there are other places you could buy,” she said, hoping he would see reason. “Texas isn’t the only state with ranch property. I’m sure you could find something suitable somewhere else. And you wouldn’t have a business partner. You would be the sole owner.”