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Twice Garrett had been on the verge of confessing his identity.

“What about you and marriage?” Sophia asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“I’m a workaholic, I suppose,” he said. “I haven’t ever been deeply in love, and I don’t feel ready for marriage.”

As he gazed into her eyes, he wondered what it would be like to come home to her every night—to make love to her night and day. His thoughts surprised him.

He hated not telling her about the Delaneys, yet he had heard the bitterness in her voice when she spoke of her father, felt her anger smoldering.

He realized she was staring at him with a quizzical smile. “What?” he asked.

“You haven’t heard one word I’ve been saying, Garrett. What are you thinking about?”

He focused on her lips before looking into her eyes again while desire consumed him.

He didn’t want to admit the truth yet and the burden of guilt was becoming unbearable, but one way to avoid both was to stop her questions with kisses.

Dear Reader,

This second story in the LONE STAR LEGACY series involves the celebration of two people falling in love in spite of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Love and romance are wonderful, breathtaking, sometimes overwhelming. The road to romance is a fascinating journey.

Set in glittering Dallas and the snow-covered Rockies, The Reluctant Heiress shows how the Delaney brothers discover a half-sister who has to be brought into the family. To achieve this goal, the brothers turn to a trusted friend and valued employee, Garrett Cantrell.

The first meeting between the handsome Garrett and striking Sophia Rivers ignites fires in each of them. Sophia cannot resist Garrett even though she knows she should. Trust is fundamental, and forgiveness is a part of Sophia’s and Garrett’s story.

Some of the most exciting moments in life happen when two people fall in love. Romance is universal, sought after and just plain fun. Come enjoy Garrett’s and Sophia’s story.

Thank you for choosing this book.

Sara Orwig

About the Author

SARA ORWIG lives in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.

The Reluctant Heiress
Sara Orwig

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Many thanks to Stacy Boyd and

Maureen Walters.

Prologue

“I don’t have a clue why I’m here,” Garrett Cantrell, company CFO, said at the family gathering in the Dallas office of Delaney Enterprises.

“Because Sophia Rivers is our father’s child. She’s as stubborn as Dad ever was,” Will Delaney stated, combing his fingers through his black hair.

“We won’t give up. There’s too much at stake,” Ryan Delaney added, resting one booted foot on his knee. “We can be as stubborn as she is. There has to be a way to reach her.”

“We need to outsmart her instead of the other way around,” Zach Delaney grumbled.

“Right,” said Will. “That’s why I asked Garrett to join us.”

“I’m sure finding out you have a half sister at the reading of your dad’s will was a shock,” Garrett said, “but you should face the fact that she doesn’t want to meet any of you. I’d say give it up.”

“If we don’t get her on the board of the Delaney Foundation, we can kiss our inheritances goodbye,” Zach snapped. “Also, she’s family. We have a sister—all these years.”

“I agree,” Will added. “She’s part of our family and we’d all like to know her.”

“Even if she doesn’t want to know you?” Garrett asked.

“I think that’s because of Dad and not anything we’ve done. We just want to unite this family and we don’t stand a chance if she won’t speak to us,” Will said. “Each of us has tried and failed to make contact with her. I think the next thing is to send someone neutral.”

Garrett straightened in his chair, his good humor vanishing. “Go through your dad’s lawyer. She communicates with Grady.”

“Her attorney communicates with Grady,” Will replied drily. “Grady has never met the lady.”

“The bottom line is, we want our inheritances,” Ryan stated. “She’s costing each of us four billion dollars. Too much to blow off.”

As Garrett looked at the Delaneys, he reflected on how his life had been tied to theirs from the day he was born. His father’s life had been closely linked with the family patriarch, Argus Delaney. Besides ties of work and family, Will Delaney, the Delaney CEO, was Garrett’s best friend. Garrett had been raised to feel indebted to the Delaneys, just as his dad had felt obligated. As he thought about what they were about to ask of him, his dread grew exponentially. “I suggest the three of you try again to meet her,” Garrett said.

“C’mon, Garrett. You can contact her because your name isn’t Delaney. Spend time with her, get to know her, find out why she’s resisting, and we’ll take it from there,” Will said. “Just open the door for us. Go to Houston. You have a family business and a house there. It’s a perfect plan.”

“I own the property management business in Houston—I don’t work there. Give it up, guys. Don’t ask me to do what you can’t do.”

“We think you can do this,” Will argued. “You’ve been our spokesperson many times. We’ll make it worthwhile for you. Help us get her on the board and it’s another five hundred million for you.”

Garrett was already wealthy— He didn’t care about the money. But he couldn’t turn down the brothers because his obligation to the Delaneys ran deep. He sighed as Will handed him a manila folder.

Garrett looked at a picture of a raven-haired, brown-eyed beauty. Maybe their request isn’t so bad after all, he thought.

“If she cooperates, she will inherit three billion dollars. It’s not like you’re trying to cause her trouble,” Ryan pointed out.

“How can she turn down that kind of money?” Zach asked, shaking his head.

“She must be angry as hell,” Garrett remarked. “That kind of anger isn’t going to change easily.”

“We have to try,” Will stated. “Will you do it?”

Garrett glanced at the picture again. He had just inherited three billion from their father. Will was his closest friend. How could he refuse to help them now?

“Garrett, we’re desperate. And we have a time limit,” Ryan said.

“All right,” Garrett replied reluctantly. “I can’t say no to any of you.”

There were thanks from all and a high five from Will, who grinned. “Everything’s going for you. You’re not a Delaney.”

“I might as well be one,” Garrett grumbled. “I don’t think your half sister will be one degree happier with me than she was with any of you.” Garrett shook his head. “Meeting Sophia Rivers is doomed from the start.”

One

Sophia Rivers sipped champagne and gazed beyond the circle of friends surrounding her. Her small Houston gallery was filled with guests viewing her art and helping her celebrate the second anniversary of her gallery’s opening. The crowd was the perfect size, and she was completely satisfied with the turnout.

“Sophia, I have a question.”

She turned to see Edgar Hollingworth, a father to her and a mentor, as well as a man whom she and her mother had been friends with before she ever moved into the art world. “Excuse me,” she said to the group around her, and stepped away.

“Edgar, what can I do for you?” she said to the tall, thin man.

“You looked as if you needed rescuing,” he said quietly. “You also look ravishing. The black and white is striking on you, Sophia.”

“Thank you,” she replied, shaking her long black hair away from her face.

“Shall we at least act as if I’ve asked you about a painting?” Edgar motioned toward the opposite side of the room and she smiled as she strolled with him. “You have a sizable crowd tonight. I’m glad you were able to make it. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I hadn’t planned to come until about three hours ago. I’ve been in New Mexico, painting. Who’s the couple ahead to our right?” she asked.

“The Winstons. They’re probably on your guest list because they bought a painting recently.”

“Now how do you know that?”

“I sold it to them,” he said, smiling at her, causing creases to fan from the corners of his blue eyes. “I still think you should move your gallery nearer mine. Our galleries would complement each other.”

Sophia smiled at the familiar conversation that always ended with her saying no. “I do appreciate your gallery carrying my art. You were the first and I’ll always be indebted to you for that.”

“You would have been in a gallery anyway whether it was my place or another’s. You have a fine talent.”

“Thank you, Edgar,” she said.

Sophia glanced around the room again and was slightly surprised when she saw another unfamiliar face. Except this one took her breath away.

Perhaps the tallest man in the room, he stood in profile. His brown hair had an unruly wave to it and his hawk nose and rugged looks made her think instantly that he would be an interesting subject to paint. He held a champagne flute in his hand as he looked at a painting.

“There’s someone else I don’t know,” she said.

“His name is Garrett Cantrell. We talked awhile. He has a property management business here and he’s a financial adviser. He, too, bought one of your paintings last week. Another satisfied customer.”

A woman approached Edgar, who excused himself, leaving Sophia to contemplate the tall, brown-haired stranger, strolling slowly around the gallery. She suddenly found herself crossing the room to stand near him.

“I hope you like it,” she said.

“I do,” he replied, turning to look at her with thickly lashed eyes the color of smoke. Her breath caught. Up close he was even more fascinating—handsome in a craggy way—and his gray eyes were unforgettable.

“That’s good,” she replied, smiling and extending her hand while still held in his compelling gaze. “Because I’m the artist. I’m Sophia Rivers.”

“Garrett Cantrell,” he said, shaking her hand. His warm fingers wrapped around hers and an uncustomary tingle ran to her toes. She gazed into his smoke-colored eyes and couldn’t get her breath. Her gaze slipped lower to his mouth. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. The temperature in the room rose. She knew she should look away, yet she didn’t want to stop studying him.

“The artist herself. And even more beautiful than your paintings,” he said as he released her hand. “You’ve caught the atmosphere of the West.”

“It’s New Mexico, around Taos. And thank you,” she added. Her pulse jumped at his compliment and she was keenly aware of him as they moved to view another painting.

“You’re very good at what you do. I look at these and feel as if I’m there instead of standing in a steamy metropolitan city.”

“That’s what I hope to achieve. So this is the first time you’ve been to my gallery.”

“Yes, but I own one of your pictures,” he said, moving to the next painting. “You must spend a lot of time in New Mexico. I assume you have a gallery there?”

“Actually, I don’t. I intend to open one early next year, but I haven’t launched into that yet. It will take time away from painting.”

“I understand.” He sipped champagne and moved to another painting. “Ah, I really like this one,” he said and she looked at a familiar work. It was an aged cart in front of a brown adobe house with bright hollyhocks growing around it. A small mesquite tree stood at one corner of the house.

He looked at the next series of paintings. “These are my favorites. The Native American ones,” he said, indicating a man with a long black braid standing beside a horse in an open stretch of ground dotted with mesquite. Overhead, white clouds billowed against a blue sky and a large hawk sailed with widespread wings.

“That’s a great painting,” he said. “The light and shadows are an interesting contrast.” Happy with his compliment, she smiled. “I’ll take this one. Any chance the artist will help me decide where to hang it? A dinner is in the offering.”

Again, she had a flutter in her heartbeat. “We’re strangers, Mr. Cantrell.”

“It’s Garrett. We can fix the ‘strangers’ part. When you can get away tonight, why don’t we go around the corner to the hotel bar and have a drink? Tomorrow evening we’ll hang my painting and then I’ll take you to dinner.”

“You don’t waste time. I’d be delighted to have a drink tonight. I should be through here in another hour.”

“Excellent,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“I’ll get one of my staff to wrap your painting and we can deliver it tomorrow if you’d like.”

“That will be fine. The delivery person can leave it with my gatekeeper.”

She smiled and left to find one of her employees. “Barry, would you help Mr. Cantrell? He wants number 32. Please take care of the sale and get the delivery information.”

She had to resist the temptation to glance over her shoulder at Garrett.

Instead, she strolled around, speaking to customers and friends, meeting Edgar again.

“I see Cantrell bought a painting.”

“Yes. I’m having a drink with him after this.”

“That was quick,” he said, glancing across the room. “Seemed nice enough. Wealthy enough, too. Last week he bought your painting from me without hesitation. Now, a week later, he’s buying another one. The man knows what he likes.”

“I see the Santerros. I have to speak to them.”

“Have fun this evening,” Edgar said as she left him.

“I intend to,” she stated softly. “Garrett Cantrell,” she repeated, glancing back to see him at the desk, handing a business card to Barry. Her gaze drifted over his long legs while her heartbeat quickened. Dressed in a navy suit with a snowy dress shirt and gold cuff links, the handsome man was a standout even in the well-dressed crowd.

She spent the next hour all too aware of where Garrett stood.

When she saw him talking to a couple she recognized, she waited until he moved away, then worked her way around to them.

“How are the Trents tonight?” she asked.

“Fine,” Jason Trent answered.

“We love your new paintings,” Meg Trent said. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“Thank you for attending. I saw you talking to Garrett Cantrell. I just met him, but it looked as if you two already know him.”

“We do,” Jason replied. “I lease a building from his company. He keeps up with whether everything is going smoothly, which it is. Good bunch to work with.”

“We’re getting one of your watercolors for the family room,” Meg said. “It’s the one with the little boy and the burro.”

“I’m glad you like that one. I hope you enjoy having it in your home.”

“You’re a prolific painter,” Jason remarked.

“I enjoy it.”

“More than the financial world,” he said, smiling.

“I have no regrets about changing careers.”

“That’s what I keep trying to talk Meg into doing—She’d love to have a dress shop.”

“Accounting seems to hold fewer risks. You’re established now, but weren’t you nervous when you started?” Meg asked.

“I suppose, but it was absolutely worth it,” Sophia said. “It was nice to see you both,” she added, moving on, aware of Garrett across the gallery talking to two people. She wondered whether he knew them, too.

She stopped at the desk to look at his card. “Cantrell Properties Inc.” It was a plain card with a downtown address, logo and phone number, but little else. She returned it to the drawer.

Garrett appeared at her side. “Can you leave? You still have quite a few people here.”

“I can leave. My staff can manage quite well. They weren’t expecting me to be here tonight anyway.”

“I’m glad you are,” he said.

“We can go out the back way and it’ll be less noticeable.” She led him through a door, down a hallway that opened onto offices, a mailroom and a studio and out the back into a parking lot where five cars were parked. Four tall lampposts illuminated the area as brightly as if it were day. A security guard sat in a cubicle watching a small television. He stepped to the door.

“Good night, Miss Rivers.”

“I’ll be back after a while to get my car, Teddy.”

“Sure thing. Evening, sir,” he said, nodding at Garrett who greeted him in return.

“My car is in front,” Garrett said, taking her arm.

“It’s a nice night. We can walk if you want,” she said, pleasantly aware of his height because she was taller than some men she knew and as tall as many.

“I saw you talking to Meg and Jason Trent. Jason said he leased property from you.”

“Yes, he’s a good tenant,” he said. “They like your art.”

“I’ve had a gratifying response from people,” she said.

They entered the bright hotel lobby, then the darkened bar where a pianist played a ballad for couples who were dancing.

Garrett got a booth with a small lamp at the end of the table. It spilled a golden glow over his fascinating features, highlighting his prominent cheekbones and leaving the planes of his cheeks in dark shadows. She felt breathless again, a steady hum of excitement that she couldn’t explain.

They ordered drinks—a cold beer for him and an iced soda for her. When they came, he raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to a new friendship. May it grow.”

“A toast to friendship,” she repeated, touching his cold bottle lightly. She sipped her soda and set the glass down.

He reached across the table to take her hand, his warm fingers enveloping hers. Again, a current streaked through her like lightning. “Shall we dance?”

As she stood, he shed his coat and tie, folding them once on the seat of the booth.

Sophia followed him to the small dance floor and stepped into his embrace. Her hand was in his, her other hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him through the fine cotton shirt. She enjoyed dancing around the floor, aware of how well they moved together. He was agile, light on his feet.

“I’ve been waiting all evening for this moment,” he said, setting her heart fluttering again. She had never had such an instant and intense reaction to a man. “I’m glad I decided to come tonight. I didn’t expect to see the artist, but I knew I would enjoy looking at your art. Now, the whole world has changed.”

She smiled. “I don’t think it’s been a world-changing night,” she said, though she actually agreed with him. She wasn’t sure things would ever be the same after having met Garrett Cantrell.

“The night isn’t over yet,” he reminded her, obviously flirting.

She slanted him a look. “Perhaps you’ll change my mind.”

“That’s a challenge I’ll gladly take.”

The ballad ended and a faster number began. Garrett released her and she put a little distance between them. The man had sexy moves that set her pulse at a faster pace. She was unable to tear her gaze from his until she forced herself to turn and the spell was broken.

By the time the music finished, she needed to catch her breath.

Garrett took her hand. “Shall we go back to our drinks?”

They returned to the booth. He loosened the top buttons of his shirt. The temperature climbed a notch and her desire revved with it.

Her cell phone chimed. She looked down, reading a brief text from Edgar.

How is your evening with G.C.? Call me when you get home. I promised Mom.

She had to laugh. “I have a text from my friend Edgar. You bought a painting of mine from him.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“He once promised my mom that he would look out for me and he’s been like the proverbial mother hen ever since. He’s checking on when I’ll get home.”

Garrett flashed a breathtakingly handsome smile. “Is he jealous?”

Shaking her head, she laughed. “Definitely not. Edgar always loved my mother. They dated some, but for Mom it was a good friend sort of thing. Then as my interest in art developed, Mom told Edgar. He became a friend and mentor, helping me in so many ways.”

She sent a text back.

Go to bed, Edgar. I’m fine and he’s fun.

“I let him know that I’m okay and we’re having a pleasant time.”

“A pleasant time. I’ll have to try harder if I want to move that into the ‘world-changing’ arena.”

She smiled as she put away her cell phone. “So tell me about yourself,” she said.

“I grew up with the proverbial silver spoon. Well, my dad began to make big bucks when I was about seven years old. Life was easy in some ways.”

“What wasn’t easy?”

“My mom died when I was fifteen. My dad and I were close. I lost him this past summer.”

“Sorry. It hurts. My mom died a couple of years ago.”

“Your dad?”

“I never knew him,” she said, her eyes becoming frosty as she answered him.

“I’m glad you and your mom were close. So how did you get into art?”

“It’s my first love. I went to college, got a degree in accounting, got a good job, moved up. I began to invest my own money and did so well, I finally took over managing my mother’s finances, which was far more than I had. Finance became my field, but art was—and is—my love. We have something else in common—our financial backgrounds.”

“So we do.”

“The difference is, you love it and pursue it. I wanted something else.”

“Sometimes I think about something else, but I’m locked into where I am.”

“What else do you think about doing?” she asked.

“Nothing serious. I’m where I should be, doing what I’ve been trained to do and have a knack for doing.”

“There’s something else you like,” she persisted, tilting her head to study him. “I don’t think it’s art. I’ll bet it’s far removed from the world of property management.”

“Yes, it is. It’s not that big a deal for you to even try to guess. Someday when I retire, I’ll make furniture. I like working with my hands.”

“It’s getting a little scary how alike we are,” she said, noticing how his thick lashes heightened the striking effect of his gray eyes.

“Perhaps it’s an omen indicating we will get along well.”

“Usually, it’s the other way around. Opposites attract.”

“Well, I’ll see where we’re opposite—one thing, you’re living your dream. I won’t leave the business world.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged a broad shoulder. “I was raised to do this. When Dad was alive, I wouldn’t have changed for anything because it would have hurt him terribly. He hasn’t been gone long and I just can’t think about changing when I know how badly he wanted me to do what I’m doing. There are other reasons, too, but that’s the biggest.”

She nodded. “We’re different there, all right. My mom was okay with the change I made. I’m sorry she didn’t live to see the success I’ve been lucky enough to have, especially since she’s the one who told me to chase my dream.”

“Be thankful. I’ve been told the opposite all my life.”

“I am thankful,” she said, wondering about his life as the topic of conversation shifted. As she looked at him, desire smoldered, a steady flame. She knew he would kiss her tonight and she wanted him to.

“So there are no other men in your life?” he asked, tilting his head.

“No, no other men and you’re not exactly in it either since I’ve known you all of a few hours.”

“I’m in it now,” he said in a tone of voice that stirred sparks. “So Mr. Right has not come along. And there’s no one vying for that title.”

“I’m definitely not looking for Mr. Right. The past few years I’ve been incredibly busy and my social life has suffered.”

“I can understand about incredibly busy. And I’ll see what I can do to remedy that a little for both of us.”

“And what about the women in your life? You can’t convince me there are none.”

“There isn’t anyone special, or even anyone really ‘in’ my life at this point. I’m free as a bird, as they say.”

“Workaholic?”

“I’m not arguing that one.”

When her phone chimed again with a text that the gallery was cleaned and closed, she noticed the late hour. “I didn’t know the time. I should go home.”

As they walked back to the gallery, Garrett stopped her. “Why don’t I take you home? I’ll pick you up for breakfast and bring you back to the gallery to get your car.”

“That seems a lot of trouble for you.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, unlocking the door of a black sports car.

After a moment, she climbed in, gave Garrett her address and watched him drive, studying his hands with neatly trimmed nails. A gold cuff link glinted in the reflection of the dash lights.

They drove through a gated area and up the front drive of her sprawling house. He parked and came around to open the door for her. They crossed the porch and she unlocked the door before turning to face him.

“You have a nice home.”

“Thanks. As you said, it’s comfortable. It’s too late to invite you in but I had a great time tonight.”

“It’s too early to exchange goodbyes,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist to draw her close.

Sophia’s heart raced as she looked up at him. His lower lip was full, sensual. She leaned slightly closer, pressing against him and closing her eyes as his mouth covered hers lightly, then firmly, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. A wave of longing rippled, tearing at her while she felt as if she were in free fall. Her breathing altered, heat pooled low in her. His kiss was demanding, enticing and she returned it. She moaned softly, the sound taken by his mouth on hers.

Her heart pounded so violently she was certain he could feel it. When she pressed against his lean, hard length, his arm tightened around her. Leaning over her, holding her tightly, he didn’t let up. She was lost, consumed in kisses that were magical, that set her on fire.

One hand slipped down her back, a light caress, and the other was warm on the nape of her neck. His kisses were earth-shattering, rocking her world. She had never been kissed this way. She wanted to stay in his arms for hours.

Finally she leaned away to look at him. “Garrett, slow down,” she whispered, caution and wisdom fighting to gain control over desire. All she wanted was to kiss him endlessly.

As he gazed at her intently, she realized that his ragged breathing matched her own.

“Sophia,” he said, her name a hoarse whisper. “I want you.” The words—stark, honest and direct—set her pulse galloping.

“We have to say good-night,” she declared. She had just met him and barely knew him. She should not fall into his arms instantly and lose all control.

Locks of his dark, unruly hair had tumbled on his forehead, escaping the neatly combed style he’d worn when she first saw him. She ached to run her hands through them.

Instead, she took a deep breath and stepped back. “We have to say good-night,” she repeated. “I had a wonderful time.”

“It was world-changing for me,” he whispered, his voice still only a rasp. He framed her face with his hands. “I mean it. Tonight was a special night that I never, ever expected. I’d hoped to meet you but I never once thought I’d have an evening like this.” As he spoke, his fingers combed lightly through her hair. His words carried a sincerity that made her heartbeat quicken again, his smoky, intense gaze consuming her.

“I didn’t expect anything like this either,” she whispered, wanting him with an urgency that shook her.

“When I walked into your gallery, I wanted to meet you for one reason. After meeting you, I want to be with you for an entirely different reason,” he said.

He leaned down to kiss her again, passionately. When he released her, he stepped away, but his hand stayed on her shoulder as if he didn’t want to break the physical contact with her.

“I’ll see you in the morning. How’s seven?”

She nodded, and he turned and strode away. She stared at him—broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, thick brown hair, handsome. The man took her breath and set her heart pounding.

“Good night, Garrett,” she said softly. She closed the door and switched on lights while her lips tingled. Desire was a scorching flame. Garrett Cantrell. She would be with him again in just hours and yet she couldn’t wait.

Her cell phone’s tune signaled a call. She looked at the number with curiosity as she answered. Her heart missed a beat when she heard Garrett’s deep voice.

She laughed. “You do know that we just parted?”

“We did. It now seems like a serious mistake. Tell me more about growing up, your dreams, your day tomorrow.”

Smiling, she sat in a rocker in her bedroom, gazing at her shelves of familiar books and pictures. “I grew up in Houston. I’ve always dreamed of painting and having my own gallery. Tomorrow—”

“Wait a minute. Back up. You grew up in Houston. House? Apartment? Best friends through your school years or did you move a lot? Tell me about your life, Sophia.”

When he said her name in his deep drawl, her pulse beat faster. “It can’t possibly be that fascinating. I grew up in one house, went to neighborhood elementary schools and then private schools later. I had the same close friends through elementary and then new friends in the private school. See? All very routine and ordinary.”

“There is absolutely nothing ordinary about you,” he said, stirring another thrilling physical reaction in her that threw her completely off base. She wasn’t used to feeling like this because of a man.

“What about you? You said you had it easy growing up?” she asked.

“I always went to private schools. I’ve had the same best friend all my life since I was too young to remember. Our fathers were best friends. I’ve had the same family home my whole life. I’m an only child.”

“We’re so much alike, I’m surprised we can stand each other, Garrett.” When he laughed, she felt her stomach drop, like she was in free fall. He was turning her inside out with just the sound of his voice.

“You’re already living your dream. Do you feel fulfilled, complete?” he asked.

“I think people always want more and keep striving. I am very happy with my life, though, and what I do.”

“Surely there’s something else you want.”

“Another successful gallery in Taos. I’d like to live in Santa Fe. But I already have a home and studio, and I have a cabin in the mountains near Questa, where I go for solitude to paint.”

“The Questa cabin sounds isolated.”

“No cell phone reception whatsoever, which is a plus. I have a caretaker. He and his family have a cabin close to mine, so there are people nearby. He has four dogs. Two take up with me when I’m there, so that’s a bit of company. It’s a good place to work with no interference—a good place to improve my skills as a painter.”

“I’d say you can settle for how well you paint right now.”

“No, I can definitely improve. So tell me about you, Garrett. Do you really dream of building furniture someday?”

“It’s pushed to a burner so far back, it will take years to get to it.”

As they talked, she moved to the window, switching off a lamp and gazing outside at the full moon. By the time she glanced at the clock, she was shocked to see it was half past three.

“Garrett, we have to get off the phone. It’s after three a.m., and you’re picking me up at seven.”

“All right. Sophia, you’re a remarkable woman,” he said in a solemn tone. She suddenly had a funny feeling that he had expected something different from her.

“And you are a remarkable man,” she replied softly. “Good night, Garrett. I will see you soon—very soon.”

“Night, Sophia,” he said, and was gone.

She turned off her phone and crawled into bed, Garrett dominating her thoughts completely. “Garrett,” she whispered, enjoying saying his name while she thought about his magical kisses. She had never expected to meet someone like him tonight. This wasn’t a time in her career to be distracted, yet he made her feel things she had never felt before. Morning couldn’t come quickly enough. She was already anxious to be with him again.

Two

Setting aside his phone to strip to his briefs, Garrett replayed the night, thinking of the first moment he had seen Sophia at the gallery. In high heels, she had to be six feet tall. Her midnight hair was straight and fell freely over her shoulders in a black cascade.

A dramatic black-and-white dress left one tan shoulder bare. The slit in the straight skirt revealed long, shapely legs with each step. Her mother’s Native American blood had given her smooth, olive skin, beautiful raven hair and her prominent cheekbones, yet she bore a striking resemblance to Will and reminded Garrett of Zach in her forthright, practical manner.

From the first moment she had captivated him. Dancing with her had fanned his desire until he ached to kiss her.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

While he hadn’t lied to her, he had still deceived her by not mentioning his ties to the Delaneys and his mission in Houston. At the moment she could be at her computer, looking him up and discovering he was an executive with Delaney Enterprises. A chill slithered through Garrett, turning him to ice. By breakfast time, she might already know the truth.

He didn’t want her to find out that way. He wanted to tell her about his relationship with the Delaneys himself. But if he did, he wouldn’t see her again, and neither the Delaneys nor she would get their inheritances.

His thoughts drifted to her soft, lush curves, her silky, midnight hair and her large, dark brown eyes …

After twenty more minutes of tossing and turning, he went to his indoor pool and swam laps, trying to stop thinking about Sophia yet wanting morning to come so he could see her again.

What if he did tell her about the Delaneys at breakfast? Maybe they already had enough of a connection that she’d agree to meet them.

Who was he kidding? Anyone who felt strongly enough to turn down billions wouldn’t change her mind because of a few kisses and one exciting night.

Glumly, he executed a flip-turn and mulled it over as he swam another lap. Three billion dollars—no one could turn down money like that, yet she had. Why? Was her anger at Argus Delaney that deep?

From what the P.I. had unearthed, Argus had continued seeing her mother until she died. At the end of her life, he had done everything to keep her comfortable, taking care of her medical bills and seeing that she had the best care possible. Why was Sophia so bitter? She didn’t seem a bitter, grudge-holding type. Sophisticated, intelligent, an inner core of steel, obviously hardworking, optimistic—all were qualities that he would use to describe her. It seemed difficult to imagine that she would have enough anger and hate to give up a three-billion-dollar inheritance.

He had to confess or risk Sophia discovering on her own the deception that grew larger with every passing hour.

Yet if he told her now, it was the end of what they’d only just started. And the termination of hope for the Delaneys.

Trying to shut off his nagging thoughts, he swore and swam harder.

It was another half hour before he was dry, sitting in his bedroom and staring out the window. Sleep eluded him. Worse, he was no closer to a decision about what he would do in a few hours when he saw her. Either way—tell her or wait—their relationship was doomed.

In spite of his disturbed sleep, the next morning he was eager to see Sophia again. His uncustomary inability to reach a decision about her added to his restlessness. Before he left to pick her up, Garrett phoned Will and gave him an update.

“Fantastic. So she can be civil and you like her,” Will said. “That’s promising.”

“Will, for her to cut all of you off and lose her inheritance, her anger must run really deep. I can’t imagine being able to persuade her to change her mind.”

“We’re counting on you to work a miracle. You’re already getting close to her.”

“Not that close,” Garrett snapped and then curbed his impatience. “I wanted you to know that I’ll be with her tonight so don’t call.”

“I’ll wait until you call me. You’re doing great—I knew you would.”

“Will, stop being the ultimate optimist. She doesn’t have a clue yet about my connections. Everything will change when she learns the truth.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Thank heavens women can’t resist you.”

Garrett had to laugh. “Oh, hell. Goodbye, Will. I’ll call when I can.”

Garrett ended the call and tried to get Will out of his thoughts and stop worrying about him. As he headed to his car, he focused on Sophia, his thoughts heating him to a torrid level.

When Sophia opened the door, her heart missed beats. Dressed in a charcoal suit and matching tie, Garrett looked as handsome as he had the night before.

His warm gaze roamed over her and he smiled. “You look gorgeous,” he said.

“Thank you,” she replied, thinking about all the different outfits she had tried on before settling on a plain red linen suit. Her hair was tied behind her head with a matching red scarf and he gave it a faint tug.

“Very pretty, but if we were going out for the evening, I would untie that scarf and let your hair free, which is the way I like it.”

“But I won’t,” she replied lightly, locking up and walking to his car with him. “I have to go to the gallery and it needs to be tied and out of my way.”

As he held the car door, she noticed he watched her legs when she climbed in. He closed the door and went around to slide behind the wheel. “So how did you sleep?” he asked.

“Great.”

“I must be slipping if my kisses didn’t keep you awake a little.”

“You think I would tell you if I had stayed awake all night?”

As they both smiled, she felt the sparks between them, that electrifying current that had sizzled the whole time they were together last night. She hoped he never realized what a strong impact he had on her. She had a busy life and a time-consuming career. Garrett had come into her life at a time when she was trying to make a name in the art world. She didn’t want him to realize how he affected her. She didn’t want to lose control of her emotions.

At the restaurant, they were seated on an outdoor patio—the breezes were cool, the sun bright. As soon as they had ordered and were alone, Garrett smiled. “So when will my painting be delivered?”

“This afternoon.”

“Excellent. Let me pick you up, we’ll go to my house to hang the painting and then I’ll take you out.”

Her heartbeat quickened yet again. “You really don’t waste time, do you,” she replied.

“I’ll pick you up around seven. So how much time do you spend in New Mexico?” he asked.

“Most of the summer. It’s cool at night and I enjoy being there part of the year. Do you have a home anywhere else?”

“My home is in Dallas and I have a condo in Colorado because I like to ski. I also have a place in Switzerland.”

“Nice.”

“Painting is a reclusive occupation. Do you get out much in Santa Fe?”

“Sure, when I want to. But I enjoy the quiet and solitude. Chalk that up to being an only child.” As Sophia talked, she couldn’t help but study Garrett. His brown hair had been neatly combed, but the breeze soon shifted the locks and they tumbled over his forehead. His rough handsomeness—his hawk nose and firm jaw—and his spellbinding gray eyes fascinated her. When he began to speak, her gaze lowered to his mouth and she recalled his kisses, not hearing what he was saying as heat suffused her and the temperature of the cool morning changed.

He touched her chin with his fingers. “I don’t believe you’re hearing a word I’m saying. What could you possibly be thinking about?” he asked in a husky voice as if he guessed exactly why she hadn’t heard a word he had said.

“My mind drifted, sorry,” she said, embarrassed, looking into his knowing gaze. She felt the heat flush her cheeks and couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“So, Sophia, where did it drift? What were you thinking?”

She gave up because he knew full well what she had been thinking about.

“I don’t think you need me to tell you that, do you, Garrett?” He gave her a slight smile as she changed the subject. “Do you travel much with your job?”

To her relief he moved on with the conversation and the moment passed. But she suspected it had not been forgotten.

After breakfast Garrett took her to the gallery and parked beside her car. As he walked her to the door, he said, “We’re early. May I come inside with you in case your building is empty?”

“Actually, people should start arriving in about ten minutes, and there is a guard outside.”

“I’d rather stay until someone does arrive.”

“Garrett, it’s safe, and I’ll lock the door once I’m inside.” She turned to unlock the door and reached inside to switch off the alarm. When it became clear that he had no intention of leaving, she headed down the hall and said over her shoulder, “I’ll show you my office.”

She stepped into her office and he followed, taking in the beige room with bright splashes of color from her paintings. He studied the paintings for a moment, and then turned to her, making her pulse skip. “I expect people any minute now.”

“I’ll wait and be certain. Why don’t you give me the key and I’ll unlock the front and switch on lights.”

She handed him the key and he caught her wrist, drawing her to him. Her “no” died on her lips before she ever uttered a sound. His arm banded her waist and he looked down at her. “I didn’t sleep well and I suspect you didn’t either. This is what I’ve wanted since I woke up this morning.” His mouth covered hers, his lips warm and firm as he kissed her.

Her heart thudded while heat made the room a furnace. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she combed her fingers through his thick hair while their kiss turned to fire. Forgetting her surroundings, she held him tightly.

She never heard the car but Garrett raised his head and stepped away. “I hear one of your employees.”

Garrett’s erratic breathing matched hers. She felt disoriented, trying to ignore her desire and get her focus off Garrett and back to the real world.

He left to unlock the front for her just as she heard a car door slam. One of her male employees came in the back door, and Sophia introduced him to Garrett when he returned to the office.

“I’ll pick you up at home tonight. How’s six? Too early?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she said, still slightly dazed, thinking six o’clock sounded eons away. “Thanks again for breakfast.” He gave her an incredible smile, said goodbye and closed the door behind him. Sophia felt like she was in a daze until her phone rang.

“You were out late last night,” Edgar said.

“Hello to you, too, Edgar,” she said, amused. “I can’t recall having a curfew. I don’t think this is what Mom had in mind when she asked you to look out for me.”

“I think it’s exactly what she had in mind. You didn’t answer the text I sent you this morning.”

“Sorry, Edgar. I went out for breakfast.”

“Uh-huh. With the Cantrell fellow?”

She laughed. “Yes, with the Cantrell fellow—Garrett, to be exact.”

“Oh, dear,” Edgar said, sighing audibly. “I suppose I will have to remember his name. So you’re seeing him again?”

“Correct. Am I going to have to check in, Mom 2?”

He chuckled. “No. I’ll keep tabs. Just answer your text messages.”

“Yes, Edgar.”

“Last night seemed a huge success.”

“I’ll hear shortly when everyone arrives at work.”

“I’m certain I’m right. Have lunch with me and we’ll celebrate your success.”

“Thanks. That’ll be nice.” She made arrangements with him and a minute later, her assistant appeared to show her the receipts from the gallery.

Last night had indeed been a success—in more ways than one.

Sophia pulled on a blue wool-and-crepe sweater with a deep V-neck, a straight, short skirt and matching pumps. She put her hair up in a French twist. She was nervous, anxious, excited.

Get a grip, she silently lectured herself.

It wasn’t easy. Garrett captivated her more than any other man she had known. He was exciting, handsome, interested in her life. If she let herself think of kissing him, she could get lost in memories of the previous night. But she didn’t want that to happen. She needed to stay in control.

When she was ready, she studied herself thoroughly to make certain she was at her best for the evening.

When she opened the door to face him, her heart raced, despite all her commands to the contrary. In a navy suit, he looked breathtakingly handsome and commanding. His smile warmed her as his gaze drifted slowly over her.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said in a husky voice that was like a caress. She smiled, glad for the effort she had taken to get ready. “You have a nice home,” he said.

“Sometime you’ll get a tour, but right now, we’re headed for your house.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Shall we go?”

Nodding, she closed the door behind her, hearing the lock click in place. Garrett took her arm to escort her to a waiting limo where the driver held the door while she climbed inside. She was surprised Garrett wasn’t driving. Did he always travel in limos? Was she seeing another facet of his life? Garrett sat facing her.

“How were the gallery showings?”

“Very good. I’m gratified. I’ll paint whether people buy my work or not, but when my paintings sell, I feel good about it. I keep the ones I don’t want to sell. Some are just for me and they’re not going to a gallery.” As she talked, she was intensely aware of Garrett’s smoky gaze on her. His fascinating gray eyes and knowledge of what his kisses could do kept her tingling with anticipation.

“If it suits you, we’ll go out to my house to hang the painting. When we’re through, we’ll have dinner.”

“Sounds like a great evening.”

In a short time they drove through an exclusive residential area with acres of tall pines and estates set back out of sight. Black wrought-iron gates swung open to allow them entrance.

She was curious about his home, interested in finding out more about him. When the trees cleared, she saw the sprawling, three-story stone mansion.

“Garrett, your home is beautiful.” A long narrow pool was centered in the formal gardens in the front yard. Various fountains held splashing water and sunlight spilled an orange glow over the house. Tall, symmetrical Italian pines stood at opposite ends of the wide porch that led to massive double doors.

The limo halted and the driver held the door as they exited. The door opened before they reached it and Garrett introduced her. “Sophia, meet Terrence, who is my right-hand man. He’s butler and house manager and keeps things running smoothly here. Terrence, this is Ms. Rivers.”

“Welcome, Ms. Rivers,” Terrence said, stepping back and holding the door wide.

Garrett took her arm as they entered.

“Somehow this surprises me. I imagined you in a different type of home,” she said, realizing Garrett had far more wealth than she had thought.

“Maybe I better not ask what kind.”

“Something less formal, maybe more Western. Although this mansion has enough rooms to have all types of decor.”

“I’ll show you my shop and then we’ll find the perfect spot for your painting.”

He led her down the wide, elegant hall with potted palms and oils in ornate frames hanging on the walls. They entered another wing of the mansion and finally turned into a large paneled room that smelled of sawdust. The terrazzo floor was rust-colored with dark brown stones. Beautiful pieces of furniture in various stages were scattered throughout the room. The framework for an ornate credenza stood on a worktable, above which tools hung. One wall held handcrafted cabinets containing more tools.

She walked around the room, inhaling the sawdust smell, taking in the furniture in progress, lumber, power saws, a stack of sawhorses. “This is what you love, isn’t it?”

He stood watching her and nodded. “You’re the first woman who has ever been down here.”

“I’m honored,” she said.

“Sophia,” he said and stopped. He stared at her intently.

“Yes?”

“I just wondered what you think about all this. Although I suppose I need to show you a finished product before I ask you that,” he replied.

She had the feeling that he had been about to say something else, and she wondered what it was. The slight frown on his face made her curiosity deepen but she was certain if she asked, she would not get the answer.

She walked to a table to run her finger along the smooth finish. “This is beautiful, Garrett.”

“That still needs a lot of work. It’s intended to be a reproduction of a French walnut refectory table. I also enjoy history.”

“So do you do this when you can’t sleep?” she asked.

“Do you paint when you can’t sleep?” he said, by way of answering.

She smiled at him.

“C’mon. I’ll show you some finished pieces.”

As they made their way out into the hall, she still felt as if he towered over her—a unique sensation and one she enjoyed.

They paused by an elegant reproduction of a 19th-century French sofa with embroidered rosebuds in beige damask upholstery. “Here’s a finished piece,” he said.

She had expected his work to be nice, but this was beyond nice. “Garrett, this looks like a well-preserved antique. It looks like the real thing.” She ran her fingers over the smooth wood. “This is truly beautiful,” she said, impressed. “You could make another fortune from your craft.”

He smiled. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received,” he said. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You do look stunning, Sophia. Do you mind?” he said while he reached up and pulled a pin out of her hair. Locks spilled on her shoulders as she gazed up at him.

He stood close, removing pins, causing a gentle tingling sensation on her scalp. She looked at his mouth and her heart drummed. She wanted him to kiss her right now and was tempted to pull him to her.

Instead, she kept quiet while Garrett finished and her hair cascaded across her shoulders. She moved her head slightly, shaking out her hair and letting it swirl across her shoulders. She still watched him while he gazed into her eyes. His attention shifted to her mouth.

“Garrett, show me more of your work,” she said, her voice breathless. She wanted his kisses, yet she felt she should resist and have some control. Garrett had come into her life like a whirlwind and she needed to show some resistance before he totally uprooted her career and schedules. Deep down, she had an instinctive feeling that Garrett was more than just an appealing man who excited her.

“Better yet, come with me and I’ll show you where I want to hang your painting. There are two possible rooms—one is the billiard room, the other is a large living area. I entertain there and it’s not as formal as some of the other rooms.”

She followed him down the wide hall. “You really need a map for this mansion.”

He smiled. “Your place wasn’t small either.”

“I’m so accustomed to it, I don’t give a thought to the size.”

“Nor do I.” He motioned toward open double doors. She entered a large room that had two glass walls. One end of the room bowed out in a sweeping glass curve, giving the room light and a sensation of being outdoors. The other end featured a massive brick fireplace. Leather furniture and dark fruitwood lent a masculine touch.

“This is a livable room. Very comfortable,” he said. “I’m in here a lot.” He led her across the room and she saw a familiar painting she had done a year earlier.

“I like it there,” she said, looking at her painting on his wall with others in a grouping. “A prominent spot in a room you like and live in. Now you can think of me when you see it,” she added lightly, teasing him.

“I’ll always think of you when I see it,” he said, his solemn tone giving a deeper meaning to his words.

“Sure you will,” she said, laughing. “Is this the room where you’d like to hang the other painting?”

“Yes, possibly. Where do you think it should go?”

Aware of his attention on her, she strolled around the room, selecting and then rejecting spots until she stopped. “I think this is a good place.”

“It is. One other possibility you should consider is over the hearth. It’s a sizable painting. I think it fits this room.”

“That would be the most prominent spot in the room,” she said, surprised and pleased.

“I think it would look good there.” He shed his coat. “Let me hold it up and see what you think.”

She watched as he picked up the painting and held it in place.

She smiled at him. “It looks great there. Are you sure?”

He grinned. “I’ll get tools and hang it.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Let’s have a drink and you can supervise the hanging.”

“I can get the drinks,” she said, moving to the bar in the corner of the room. “What would you like?”

“I think I’ll have beer.”

“And I’ll have red wine,” she stated. While she got a wineglass and opened a bottle, he disappeared. By the time he returned, she was on a leather couch in front of the fireplace with the drinks on a table. He placed an armload of tools on a chair and pulled off his tie. He twisted free the top buttons of his shirt—something so ordinary and simple yet it filled her with heat and she longed to get up and unbutton the rest for him. He picked up his beer, raising the bottle high.

“Here’s to improving the looks of my house by adding a Sophia Rivers painting.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, standing and picking up her drink to touch his cold bottle. Again, when she looked into his eyes, her heart skipped a beat. Each time they almost kissed, her longing intensified. How soon would they be in each other’s arms?

Sipping her red wine, she stepped back. His gaze remained locked on hers. Watching her, he sipped his beer and then turned away, breaking the spell.

He picked up the painting. “I’ll hold this and you tell me when I have it in exactly the right spot.” He held the painting high, and then set it down. “Just a minute. I can put myself back together later,” he said as he took off his gold cuff links and folded back his immaculate cuffs. “Now, let’s try this again.”

Slightly disheveled, he looked sexy, appealing. She tried to focus on the painting, but was having a difficult time keeping her attention off the man.

“To the right and slightly higher,” she said. After several adjustments, she nodded. “That’s perfect.”

He leaned back to look while he held the picture. Setting it down, he picked up chalk to mark a place on the bricks before pulling the tape measure out.

She sipped her wine while he worked. In an amazingly short time he had her painting hanging in place and he stepped away.

“Let’s look at it.”

He took her arm and they walked across the large room to study the result of his work. She was aware of the warmth of him beside her. He looked at his watch. “Shall we go eat now, or should I just throw some steaks on the grill?”

“If we eat here, it’s fine with me.”

He leaned down to look directly into her eyes. “Are you certain you don’t mind my cooking?”

“Now I’m curious,” she said. “I’ll view it as an adventure.”

“Steaks at home it is.” He draped his arm across her shoulders. “It’s a nice evening. We’ll eat on the terrace.”

They carried their drinks outside, and Sophia was again surprised by the house.

“This isn’t a terrace, Garrett—it’s another kitchen, plus a terrace, plus a living area, plus a pool.”

“With Houston’s weather, it works well through the fall and winter,” he replied, crossing to a stainless-steel gas grill built into a stone wall. In minutes he had the grill fired up and he sat with her on comfortable chairs in the outdoor living room.

“So where are you going, Sophia? What do you want out of life?”

“To pursue painting. To do charity work. I’d like to help with literacy. Also, try to do something to aid in getting more opportunities in school for children to take art and learn art appreciation. I want to open a gallery in New Mexico.”

“Marriage and family?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think about that. I’m accustomed to being on my own. I don’t ever want to be in the situation my mother was in—in love with my dad who never returned that love fully.”

“Your dad—you knew him?”

“What I told you last night wasn’t completely accurate. He was around off and on all my life,” she said, feeling a stab of pain and anger that had never left her. “My dad wouldn’t marry my mother. He practically ignored me except for financial support.”

“You said he was married?” Garrett said.

“Not by the time I was a teenager, but he didn’t want to get tied down again. Whenever he came to visit, it tore her up each time he left. She would cry for several days. He was the only man she ever loved,” Sophia stated bitterly. “He had a family—boys. He would go home to them. I couldn’t do anything to help her or stop her tears. When I was little, we both cried. I cried for her and she cried over him.”

“That’s tough,” Garrett said. “He ignored you?”

“In his way he provided for me. But looking back, I don’t think he knew how to deal with a little girl. He brought me all kinds of presents. I can remember reaching an age where I smashed some of them to bits. Mom just started giving them to charities. I didn’t want anything from him.”

“How old were you then?”

“Probably about eight or nine. He was polite to me and Mom saw to it that I was polite to him, but we weren’t together a whole lot. He never talked to me other than hello and goodbye. I rarely heard him say my name. When I was little I wondered whether he knew it. Often, I would be sent to my grandmother’s, which I loved, or out with my nanny when he was coming. Worked fine for me. I didn’t want to see him.”

“Yet your mother always loved him.”

“She did. And I don’t ever want to fall into that trap. The best way to avoid it is to keep relationships from becoming too deep.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t base everything on the actions of your father.”

“That’s the legacy he left me—a deep fear of any relationship that isn’t totally committed.”

“Sorry, Sophia,” Garrett said with a somber note.

“How’d we get on this?” she asked, wanting to avoid thinking and talking about her blood father. She wanted him out of her life and thoughts as much as humanly possible.

“I’m interested in your life and finding out about you. Did he ever try to make it up to you?”

She thought of the inheritance Argus Delaney had left her. “He always showered Mom with money. Money was his solution for everything. He paid her medical bills, but by the time the end of her life came, we had enough money to manage on our own. No matter what happened, she always loved him. And I’ve always hated him,” she said.

“At least he was good to her,” Garrett said gently. “And generous.”

“I suppose I should be grateful, but I can’t be. He left money when he died—money I don’t want one penny of,” she said.

“He’s gone. He’ll never know whether you take his money or refuse it. Why not take it and enjoy it? It should be yours.”

She shook her head, feeling the familiar current of fury that she had lived with as long as she could remember.

“I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“You could do a lot with your inheritance.”

“I’ll never touch it,” she said, trying to shift her focus off the past and onto Garrett, thinking he would be fascinating to paint. His rugged features gave him a distinctive individualism and his unique gray eyes were unforgettable. Desire stirred and once again, she struggled to pay attention to their conversation.

He was studying her intently. “Sophia—” He paused, his eyes holding secrets. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What? What were you going to say?”

He looked away. “I’ll check on the steaks.” She watched him stride to the cooker and she wondered for the second time this evening what it was he’d been about to say to her. Probably more advice about taking her inheritance, which she’d already heard enough of from Edgar.

“The steaks are ready.”

She stood, going with him to help get tossed salads, potatoes and water on the table. Soon they sat on the terrace to eat thick, juicy steaks.

“It’s a wonder you ever travel for pleasure. It’s gorgeous here and you have every convenience.”

“I like it here, but I like my other places, too.”

“I guess I can understand since I enjoy Santa Fe and Taos and even the cabin in the mountains as much as living in Houston.” She took a bite of her steak. “You’re a very good cook. The steak is delicious,” she said, surprised because he’d seemed to pay little attention to his cooking.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I should have watched you more closely. I invariably burn them.”

“You can watch me as closely as you want,” he replied with a twinkle.

“I opened the door for that one,” she said, smiling at him. “So how did you get into property management?” she asked, picking up her water glass to take a sip. A faint breeze caught his hair, blowing it gently. His hair was thick, and she thought about how it felt to run her fingers through it.

“My dad had the business,” he was saying. “He was into property management and finance. I was raised to follow in his footsteps and groomed to take over his businesses.”

“Businesses? There are others?”

“Yes, but I’m not directly involved in most of them. Hardly involved at all. They’re investments.”

“And that leaves you free to play around,” she said. “So what do you actually do?” she asked, flirting with him while trying to satisfy her curiosity about him and his life.

He smiled at her. “More than play around, although I hope to do that tonight. Dinner—get to know you—kiss you. That’s what I want to do in the next few hours,” he said, his voice deepening and making her tingle.

“I don’t really know you. Do you work, Garrett, or does the playboy lifestyle fit you?”

“I work, but not tonight, so we can get away from that subject. You aren’t eating, and I’ve lost my appetite for this steak. Let’s sit where it’s more comfortable to talk. We can take our drinks with us.”

She was leaving a half-eaten steak, yet she couldn’t resist his suggestion. Her interest in food had disappeared with Garrett’s flirting. He took her hand and she stood, going with him, her insides tingling the moment he touched her.

Garrett sat close on the couch. Her perfume was an exotic fragrance and he liked the faint scent. Her long hair was silky in his fingers as he twisted and toyed with the strands. She was stunning and he couldn’t get enough of her. And yet, he was racked with guilt.

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