“Not really.” Pushing the asparagus spears around her plate with her fork, she tried to put into words how she felt whenever she was around the man. “I know it’s probably just my imagination, but he seems to watch every move I make.” Looking up, she added, “You know, like those paintings with eyes that follow you around the room.” She couldn’t keep from shuddering. “He’s that kind of creepy.”
“I’ll try to make sure he stays away from the house,” Donaldson said, taking a bite of his prime rib. Swallowing the tender beef, he smiled. “This is really good.”
“Thank you,” she answered, hoping her cooking worked its magic and put him in a good mood. “I’m glad you like it.”
They fell into an awkward silence for the rest of the meal and by the time they finished dessert, Taylor’s nerves felt ready to snap. Yesterday she had tried talking him into selling his share of the ranch to her and that hadn’t worked. Hopefully there was something to the old adage that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Only in this case, she was hoping to appeal to his sense of justice. The Lucky Ace had been in her family for years and her grandfather had known just how much the place meant to her. He’d always told her that one day he wanted it to be hers and not once had he mentioned that he intended for her to share it with someone else.
“After we get the kitchen cleaned up, I’d like to discuss something with you,” Donaldson said, interrupting her troubled thoughts.
“About the ranch?” she asked, afraid to hope that he had changed his mind and was going to be reasonable about it.
He nodded as he rose to his feet and reached for her empty ramekin. “It’s a nice evening. I thought we could go out on the front porch and watch the sun go down while we talk.”
Getting up from the table, she walked over and began rinsing their dishes to put into the dishwasher while he put the leftover prime rib in a plastic storage container and placed it in the refrigerator. As they worked side by side to clean the kitchen, Taylor’s nervousness increased tenfold, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with their upcoming discussion about the ranch.
Why did she have to notice how handsome Donaldson looked in his black shirt and jeans? And why did he have to smell so darned good? There was something about the combination of expensive leather and the scent of clean male skin that was just plain sexy.
Their fingers touched as he handed her their wineglasses and Taylor felt a streak of longing course straight through her. She came dangerously close to dropping one of the delicate crystal goblets.
“It won’t take me more than a few minutes to finish up here.” She cleared her throat and hoped her voice didn’t sound as husky to him as it did to her. “Why don’t you go on out to the porch?”
“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.”