“I’ve had time to reconsider my position,” Sam said.

“You’re tall, but not too tall, and have nice curves, so you’ll be a stunner pregnant.”

“Ugh,” Seton said, “don’t talk about it.”

“Why?” Sam looked at her. “I just meant that you’d be very beautiful carrying a baby, Seton. And I’m willing to make that happen.”

“How?” she asked. “Didn’t you say that our marriage would be in name only?”

“I’m flexible.” Sam grinned at her, and Seton’s heart jumped.

“Flexible?”

“Sure. See how hard I’m trying to make this agreement work?”

“I wasn’t aware we were negotiating.”

Dear Reader,

As the youngest, and the Callahan brother who “came later”, after their parents had disappeared, Sam Callahan always knew he was different. Little did he know just how much he would stand out among his brothers—as an instant father to four adorable babies! Seton McKinley dishes out one surprise after another for the rascal cowboy, but Sam’s going to do what he has to do to keep her for his own … and keep his new family together!

I hope you enjoy the fifth book in the Callahan Cowboys series. There’s nothing better than watching a goodhearted man win the woman he loves. And as spring begins to melt away winter in most parts of the world, it’s my fond wish that Sam and Seton’s story will warm your heart.

All my best,

Tina Leonard

www.tinaleonard.com

www.facebook.com/tinaleonardbooks

Cowboy Sam’s Quadruplets

Tina Leonard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Chapter One

“Sam came later.”

—Jonas Callahan, remembering the arrival of a baby brother after their parents had “gone to heaven.”

“I have a proposition for you,” Sam Callahan said as he sat down in Seton McKinley’s office in the Diablo, New Mexico, courthouse. “A proposal, actually.”

Seton looked at Sam as he lounged in the brand-new leather chair she had situated in front of her brand-new pine desk. It hadn’t been an easy decision to return to Diablo and hang out her shingle. Private investigator work in Washington, D.C., had been lucrative.

She didn’t expect to make a whole lot of money in Diablo, but that wasn’t the primary reason she’d returned. The primary reason was across from her, hunky and completely unaware of how he made her heart race.

At the word proposition, Seton’s senses had gone on full alert. “Are you aware that the Callahans have quite the reputation for your propositions, proposals and plots? And I wouldn’t necessarily call it a good one.”

The handsome cowboy smiled at her, unperturbed. Their relationship over the past couple of years had been what Seton thought of as “friendly adversarial,” with a touch of romantic longing on her side, though she hadn’t breathed a word to anyone about her crush on the cowboy.

“Reputation isn’t something that concerns me,” Sam said, his tone easy.

Seton wasn’t surprised. “Before you share your proposal, be warned that I won’t do any work for you that involves Bode Jenkins. Or the Jenkins family in general.”

Sam’s grin widened the deep clefts around his mouth. “I’m not worried about Jenkins these days. He’s been pretty quiet since my brother married his daughter, Julie.”

“I spend quite a bit of time with Mr. Jenkins. I’m fond of him,” Seton said, just to let Sam know she felt his comment bordered on disrespectful to the Jenkins family.

He shrugged. “Your problem, not mine, beautiful.”

She frowned, studying the cowboy, from his dark, wavy hair to his slanted cheekbones. He looked like a Native American in a chalk portrait she’d seen in an art gallery. Lawyers shouldn’t be so handsome, she thought. It masks the devil in them, fools the eye like a mirage.

If there was one thing she’d learned from spending time at Rancho Diablo, it was that the Callahans played for their own team, and everyone else could get bent.

“I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes,” Seton said. “Why are you here, Sam?”

He gazed at her in silence for a moment, during which Seton felt as if he was trying to decide if he could trust her. Or thinking how he might manipulate her into doing whatever it was he had on his mind. She waited, tapping a pencil on the notepad in front of her with some impatience.

“I don’t really know who I am,” Sam said, his voice soft and husky.

Seton blinked. “Most people feel that way sometimes, don’t you think?”

He shook his head. “No, I really don’t know who I am.”

She put the pencil down and leaned back. Potential clients sat in the leather chairs, the only expensive elements in her new office. She had a wooden swivel chair, which was hard and kept her uncomfortable enough to focus. She looked into Sam’s navy blue eyes and saw that he was serious.

Very strange for him, because he had a tendency to be the footloose charmer of the family. “You’re Sam Callahan. Last of six brothers. Family lawyer and head of the legal team hired to defend Rancho Diablo from a takeover by the state of New Mexico.”

“By Bode Jenkins,” Sam said.

“It’s New Mexico v. Callahan,” Seton reminded him. “You have four married brothers, and one older brother who calls my sister, Sabrina, occasionally. I’m not sure why. She’s not, either. Jonas seems to be quite the chatterer since she moved to D.C.”

“Jonas likes to keep tabs on everyone. He’s weird that way.”

“Anyway, that’s who you are.” Seton folded her hands on the desk. “Your aunt Fiona and uncle Burke moved back to Ireland last year. You have one of the largest ranches in all New Mexico. You rarely date, although the ladies in town would love to show you a good time. And you claim to be lazy.”

“I am.” Sam brightened. “That’s my favorite trait. I would describe myself as having a laid-back personality. It’s very important for a man to be relaxed when he’s only twenty-eight. I was twenty-six when the whole lawsuit thing started.”

Seton sighed. “I don’t have a couch for you to lie on if you’re looking for a therapy session, Sam. And I’m not really interested in learning more of your history than I already know.” She cast an eye over him, realizing he probably wasn’t completely aware of his physical attributes. A dark brown cowboy hat had been thrown on the chair next to the one he occupied. His jeans weren’t dress, but standard Wranglers. Under a black leather jacket, a black T-shirt stretched across his chest—a T-shirt that appeared to be inside out. If he took off his jacket, she’d be able to tell.

“So?” she pressed.

“My laziness is probably a good place to start.” His dark blue eyes twinkled. “I’d like to hire you in the spirit of laziness.”

She shook her head. “I can already tell I should refuse.”

“You haven’t even heard what I want to hire you for,” Sam said. “There’s no conflict, I swear.”

“There’s a conflict anytime a Callahan is involved.” Seton sat up. “I wouldn’t be comfortable working for you, considering my relationship to the Jenkinses.”

“An unfortunate relationship, considering that Bode is a slimy dog,” Sam said. “But I can overlook some of your flaws.”

Seton stared at him. “I don’t want to work for you.”

He waved a hand, dismissing her objection. “At least hear me out. You might like what I’m offering you.”

“I doubt it.” She sighed, then leaned back. “But go on. Five minutes.”

“Back to not knowing who I am,” Sam continued. “I think it’s important for children to know these things.”

“You want me to look up information on your parents?” Seton asked. “Won’t your aunt Fiona tell you everything you want to know? She was your guardian since you and your brothers were very young, right?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not so worried about me at the moment,” he said. “I’ll figure myself out one day.”

“Okay,” Seton said. “What do you want me to do then?”

Sam’s expression turned serious, which made him look even more handsome, if possible. It was annoying. “I’d like to hire you to be my wife,” he stated. “Although not in the traditional sense.”

Seton held back a gasp. “I’m sorry. Not that I expected anything about this conversation to be normal or usual—”

“I’m sure you’re aware,” Sam interrupted—just like a Callahan, “that my aunt has the ranch divided among the six of us. We get our portions when we marry.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of Fiona’s wild plan to put enough wives and babies on Rancho Diablo to keep it from being taken over.” Seton frowned. “It’s unorthodox.”

“Maybe,” Sam said, “but it’s working.”

She looked at him. “The only thing that’s kept the ranch in your family is your legal expertise.” Seton reconsidered her words. “Some call it your legal maneuvers. I’ve even heard it referenced as shystering and sleight of hand.”

“That Bode,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He’s such a die-hard fan of mine.”

“Anyway,” she said, “was that your proposal? Because I have no intention of being involved in one of the famous Callahan plots.” She glanced at her watch. “My next appointment should be here any moment.”

“We’ll worry about that when your victim arrives,” Sam said. “I’m offering you the chance to marry into one of the greatest families around. We’re all really nice, contrary to what you hear from ol’ Toady Stinkens. But here’s the catch, which may be a problem for you. You won’t have a shot at becoming a mother, which is probably important at your age.” He winked at her. “I don’t want children. I don’t even want the ranch, honestly. I could make that confession to my family, but they wouldn’t believe it, nor accept it, anyway.” Sam shrugged. “I’ve spent years fighting for it, because they asked me to. At one time I even let my brothers talk me into being the fall guy for ownership of the ranch, which I would have then turned over to them. I would have been a puppet owner,” Sam said, sounding pretty happy about being the figurehead winner of Fiona’s race-to-marriage-and-munchkins.

After a deep breath, he continued. “But control isn’t my thing. I’d rather slide away from the responsibility, if you know what I mean. A wife like you would make everyone think I was falling in with the plan. Except I wouldn’t be.” His eyes glinted mischievously. “After a while, when the lawsuit is settled and my brothers are in full lockdown mode at the ranch, you and I will quietly divorce. I plan to take off to Alaska and do some fly-fishing. Then again, I’ve got a yen to see the Amazon rain forest. There’s so much I want to do,” Sam said, his voice thoughtful, “and none of it involves a wife, and definitely not children. As I say, that may be a problem for you, since your biological clock is probably set on high alert.”

Seton debated taking off her black patent high heeled pump and stabbing the crazy cowboy with it, deciding it wasn’t worth ruining the only pair of pretty shoes she had. “I’ll pass. And I think the shameful way you refer to Mr. Jenkins hardly speaks well of your maturity. Toady Stinkens, indeed.”

Sam laughed, clearly amused. “Think about it,” he said, rising. He grinned and put his hat on. “Of course, we would draw up a contract negotiating the assets you’d receive from such a transaction. Our marriage would be, after all, merely a business agreement.”

Seton stared at him, astounded. All the other Callahan brothers had romanced their women like princes of yore. They’d practically thrown themselves at their lady of choice, not content until they’d won her over with great fanfare and a wedding at Rancho Diablo. The brides had all worn the infamous and stunning magic wedding dress, and the wives still glowed, as if marriage to a Callahan was the best thing next to breathing air and drinking water.

“Are you insane? Certifiably insane?” she demanded, reconsidering using her high heel to deliver his just deserts.

“No,” Sam said, “just lazy, like I said.” He grinned the famous Callahan smile that made ladies swoon. “Think about it, Nancy Drew. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Seton said. “You can bet your boots on that, Counselor.”

“It’s a good offer. Probably the best one you’ll ever get.” He winked again.

“Like the offer you made Mr. Jenkins recently? That if he dropped the lawsuit you wouldn’t sue him for his land and every last dime he had?”

“Aw,” Sam said, walking to the door, “I was trying to go easy on the old dog. I’d considered bringing up charges for bribery, misuse of taxpayer funds, et cetera, et cetera. There were about twenty charges I could have brought, none of them frivolous, and some with certain jail time attached. But at the end of the day, I decided to give the old fart a break.” Sam tipped his hat to her. “I have a kind and generous soul.”

He walked out, whistling as he went down the hall. Seton moved to the window, watching him amble across the street to Banger’s Bait and Tackle. Several bachelor-ettes accosted him, and Sam put his arm around them all. They moved as a group into the restaurant, like an amoeba that grew as it moved.

“The most annoying man on the planet,” Seton muttered. She locked her office door—there was no appointment, of course; she didn’t have any scheduled for the entire week—and took an aspirin. Then she sank into her wooden chair, looked around her bare office and wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake returning to Diablo to see if there was anything between Sam and her.

“Take off to Alaska,” Seton said, disgusted, and closed her eyes. “More like slither off.”

If that was the famous Callahan idea of romance, she wanted no part of it.

“YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND the Callahans,” Corinne Abernathy said two hours later, when Seton had sufficiently gotten over her desire to go after Sam and tell him what he could do with his stupid “proposal.” “Sam especially is an unusual case, because he came last. Youngest children are always different. He didn’t mean to offend you, Seton. In his mind, and with a man’s limited scope, he was being efficient.”

Seton sat ramrod-straight on her aunt’s flowered sofa and tried not to get steamed all over again. “He’s a male chauvinist, and maybe odd.”

Corinne laughed, her blue eyes serene behind her polka-dotted spectacles. “One might say that about all the Callahans. They’re wired differently, I suppose.”

“That’s no excuse.” Seton gratefully accepted a cup of tea from her aunt. “What am I supposed to do with a proposal like that? I was so surprised I couldn’t even throw him out on his ear, as I would have if I’d been thinking more clearly.”

“Well,” Corinne said, sitting on the divan across from her and putting a tray of tiny cookies on the coffee table. “I’d call his bluff.”

Seton stared at her. “You don’t mean accept his lunatic offer?”

She shrugged. “He’s a renegade lawyer, Seton, and coincidentally, a very good man from a very good family. And you’re in love with him. What do you have to lose by playing along?”

“I never said I was in love with Sam. I said—”

Her aunt waved a hand. “Seton, I may not know you as well as I know my own daughter, but I do know what a woman in love looks like. And I knew you loved Sam Callahan when you came back to Diablo. Why else would a woman return to a one-stoplight town to open up a gumshoe office?”

“I don’t know. But I do intend to find out.” She looked at her aunt, who was nibbling at a pink-frosted cookie. “He wasn’t the only reason I came home. I like spending time with you, too.”

“Oh, I know.” Corinne’s eyes sparkled. “It’s just gravy that’s there’s an adorable man here you’ve got your eye on.”

“I should have resisted my curiosity.”

Her aunt sipped her tea. “Have you ever thought that it’s a bit strange he made his offer to you? There are lots of ladies in Diablo who’d jump at the chance to say I do to Sam.”

Seton looked at her. “I simply figured I was the new face in town. Sam strikes me as being somewhat opportunistic.”

Corinne laughed. “He’s testing you, Seton.”

“For what?”

“Your interest level,” her aunt said calmly. “Play it out awhile. See what happens. What have you got to lose? You’ll find out if you’re actually in love with Sam, and he’ll get what he’s hoping for, which is to convince himself he’s not going to fall in love.”

Seton blinked. “Why would he want that?”

“Because he doesn’t think he belongs,” Corinne said. “He said as much to you with the whole ‘I don’t know who I am’ thing. It was sort of a confession—and a glimpse into his tortured soul.”

“Really?” She wrinkled her nose. “I just thought he was being dramatic so I’d feel sorry for him.”

Corinne smiled. “He wasn’t asking for your pity, he was asking for a snap wedding.”

“Well, he’s not going to get what he wants.”

Her aunt’s brows rose. “Don’t you want to get married?”

“Yes, but not now. And probably not to him.” Seton thought about children and wondered why Sam Callahan didn’t want any. She did—just as he’d said. “You have to remember I’ve been married before, Aunt Corinne. It fell apart when I had an ectopic pregnancy and lost a fallopian tube. When I have another life partner, I’d like him to be committed to having children. Sam made it plain that he isn’t in father mode. And I still think he might be odd.”

“They’re all a little different, as I say. But in a good way, Seton, if you have the courage to walk a different path. I’ve known their aunt for many years, ever since she and Burke came to Diablo, and I can honestly say that family is salt of the earth. If you think you might be in love with Sam, you could do worse, honey.”

“I don’t know.” Seton shook her head and stood. “Thanks for letting me stay here until I find a place, Aunt Corinne.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you. You go upstairs and think over your options, dear. I’m sure the just-right solution will come to you.”

Seton went upstairs to call her sister, who had once lived with the Callahans. Sabrina would certainly tell her to stay clear of Sam, which any sane woman would surely do.

Except for the single women in town who’d been hanging all over him as he’d gone into Banger’s today. Seton frowned and picked up the phone.

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT,” Jonas Callahan told his youngest brother. “Seton is never going to go for a dumb proposal like that.” He laughed, throwing his head back, then flipped the burgers on the grill. “When you said you weren’t going to be a sap and fall all over a woman like our brothers did, you went so far the other way it’ll be a miracle if Seton ever speaks to you again. Ha, ha, ha.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sucked on his longneck beer without much interest. “Well, she didn’t exactly run screaming from the idea.” Seton hadn’t looked thrilled, either. Maybe more murderous than anything. “She’s such a professional I figured the professional approach was best.”

“You were protecting your own hide.” Jonas grinned at him. “Your own emotions. That woman is so radioactively hot and major-league intelligent that she doesn’t have to put up with a bozo marriage proposal.” He waved the metal spatula. “Good money says she never speaks to you again.”

Sam nodded and took another swig. “Probably not,” he said cheerfully.

His brother eyed him. “Wait a minute. That’s why you did it, you loser.”

He raised a brow. “Did what?”

“Went the marriage-proposal-for-dummies route. You wanted her to turn you down! Then you could go on wheezing about all the existential loose ends in your life.”

Sam sniffed. “Have another beer, Jonas. One of us isn’t tight enough.”

“I’m serious. You wanted Seton to think you’re an idiot, which you are, but you wanted her good and convinced. So she’d turn down your proposal. And then you’d be off the hook with the only woman you’ve had eyes for in two years!” Jonas crowed. “You big chicken!”

Sam scratched his neck, leaned back against the picnic table and looked up at the evening sky. “It’s a beautiful March night. You shouldn’t keep howling at the moon, Jonas. Only crazy people do that.”

His brother snorted. “I’m not crazy. You are.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam emptied his beer and tossed the bottle in the trash before grabbing another one out of the cooler. “What will you do when it’s your turn to propose to a woman? At least I did it. You, I notice, make calls to a Washington, D.C., number and somehow never get off the mark.”

“I’m just keeping up with Sabrina.” Jonas slapped a burger down in front of Sam. “I told Corinne I’d check on her niece from time to time.”

“You didn’t check on her sister, Seton.”

“Well,” Jonas said, “I was under the misapprehension that you also knew how to dial a phone, bro.”

Sam bit into the burger, noting that it was done, as always, to perfection. “I don’t think we need to hire a cook, Jonas. You cook acceptably. I’m not complaining.” He ladled on some salsa and some avocado and kept eating, happy to needle his brother between bites.

“Back to Seton,” Jonas said, “you might want to sweeten your offer. No woman consents to a hands-off marriage, so you’re going to have to force yourself to be a little romantic, as much as it hurts you. Or she’s going to think you’re plain weird. Which you are, but right now, she’s wondering if you’re weird or just a hard-hearted lawyer. Neither scenario is good for your chances.”

Sam licked his fingers. “Seton’s independent enough to appreciate the clinical, no-strings-attached approach. And it doesn’t matter, because either way, I’d be off the hook with the marriage thing. No harm, no foul, is what I say. We’re not in love, no hearts will be broken, and Seton will get a nice payday. By the looks of her office, she could use a financial lotto.”

“Sure,” Jonas said, “let me know how it works out, bro. And I’ll keep your secret, only because it’s so crazy no one would believe me if I told them what you’ve done.” He sat down to eat his own burger, after shooting his brother one last incredulous glance.

“I expect Seton will give me her answer very soon. And then you’ll be the last one left, Jonas. The last bachelor at Rancho Diablo.”

Sam almost felt sorry for his eldest brother. Jonas wasn’t getting any younger—or smarter.

At least I know what I’m doing.

He had a plan, and he was sticking to it.

Chapter Two

A week later, Sam decided Seton was the slowest woman ever when it came to accepting a marriage proposal. So he invited himself into her office and gave her his most winning grin, the one he reserved for sticky judges.

She glared at him. “No.”

Her reluctance surprised him. “Did you even consider it?”

Seton shook her head. Today her blond hair was twisted up on her head in a businesslike braid thing, and while he thought it looked good on her, he liked her hair best loose and straight. She wore a blue suit and a continual frown, so he relaxed in the chair and pondered his next angle.

“I didn’t consider your proposal,” Seton said. “I figured you’d be over it once the crazy wore off.”

“I never have crazy moments.” Sam crossed a boot over his knee and pressed his fingertips together. “My offer was based entirely on careful planning and sound logic. You need me and I need you.”

Her light brown brows winged together. “How do I need you?”

“Don’t you want to get married?” Sam couldn’t help doubting her happy-spinster stance.

“I’ve been married.” Seton got up and shoved some manila folders into a nearby filing cabinet. He admired her long legs and delicate feet, tucked into navy blue pumps, and the curve of her fanny under the knee-length skirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his attention completely shot as he tore his gaze from Seton’s delectable rear view. “Did you say you’d been married?”

“Mmm.” She sat back down and stared at him, her eyes clear and matter-of-fact. “It’s not an experience I’m pining to repeat, to be honest.” She picked up a lone file folder on her desk, consulted it for a moment, then tapped for a few moments on the keys of her open laptop. “But after your business offer—”

“Proposal.”

She looked at him again. “One can’t really call that a proposal, Sam. It was all about business. Your business. The only thing you forgot was something for the other party. Negotiations tend to be short-lived when one party wants something and the other wants nothing.”

“I mentioned there would be financial compensation, Seton,” Sam said.

“Which sounds unethical.”

“Oh,” he said. “I see where you’re coming from.”

“I doubt it.” Her tone was cool as she returned her gaze to the computer screen. “But in the spirit of friendship, and I suppose we’ll have to have some kind of friendship since we’re both living in Diablo, I did a little searching for you.”

“I don’t need you to search out a wife for me,” Sam said, feeling crusty. “I’m not going to make my offer to just any woman. Thanks.”

“About your parents,” Seton said, shooting him a glare. “Forget about the marriage bit—that horse isn’t going to run. Let’s focus on the real problem you have, which is that you said you didn’t know who you are.”

He raised a hand. “I’m not in a hurry to find out.”

“It seemed like that was your big hang-up when you were in here the other day. Your real reason for wanting a wife. An anchor, if you will.”

Sam shrugged. “Wrong theory, Miss Marple. Anyway, you’re going out of order. I came here to talk about marriage. Not myself.”

“I’m not accepting your proposal.”

Well, wasn’t she just the most stubborn little thing? It was almost cute. There was something between them, even if she didn’t care to notice it. Sam supposed a woman didn’t decide to become a detective without some good ol’ ornery in her makeup. Seton was so no-nonsense she probably scared most men.

Sam liked a challenge, and the more pretzel-like the chase, the better. He figured he’d be a pretty poor lawyer if he didn’t crave a good knuckle-cracking challenge. He leaned his chin on his fingertips and tried to think where he was going wrong here. It was really important that Seton say yes. Marriage would solve everything for him. He wouldn’t be the last one on the range. What man wanted to cross the finish line last? He sure as hell didn’t. Jonas would be much better at being the family wallflower. Frankly, things were awkward now at family gatherings. There were all his brothers, their wives, their children—and him and Jonas. Like a date, or an old pair of doting uncles who couldn’t measure up to what a woman needed in life. He hated being Sam the Single Callahan.

Besides, he had a yen for Seton.

He sighed. “So what did you find, Snoopy?”

“Snoopy?”

“Did I ask you to snoop around in my life? I asked you to marry me, not go on a hunt for clues.” Sam couldn’t help the grieved tone in his voice. “I guess that would come with the territory, though.”

“What territory?” Seton shot him an annoyed glance of her own.

“Marrying a private investigator. You’d always be digging around, looking for stuff. Frankly, I don’t have that many fossils to unearth.” He spread his hands wide. “I’m a pretty simple guy, actually. I just want a companion. I want to get married so Fiona won’t fix me up.”

“She’s in Ireland.”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that matters,” Sam said darkly. “Fiona would send over a mail-order bride if she could find one who could finesse me to the altar.”

“Maybe she should,” Seton said sweetly. “Since all you want is a name on a piece of paper.”

He looked at her. “All right. I get that you’re not impressed. But what would you do in my place? Just think about it for a moment.”

Seton shook her head. “Maybe this will help you. There are no records of your parents in Diablo. Not their births, obviously. But there are no records of their deaths.”

“Did I ask?” Sam snapped.

She narrowed her gaze on him. “If you don’t want to know what I found, I certainly won’t reveal it, Sam.”

“I’m not paying for it.” He leaned back again, noting that his gut was all churned up.

She shrugged. “I didn’t ask you for anything.”

This was true. He chafed at the reminder that only he seemed to want something. He admired her independence, even while it annoyed him. “I don’t appreciate you being nosy,” he said.

She turned off her computer. “I apologize.”

“You were trying to help me find myself,” Sam said, “but see, I don’t want to be found.”

She looked at him. Confronted with knowing that his past was a very empty one made him irritable. If there were no death records in this county, then his parents had died somewhere else. Fiona had never been clear on that. They’d always known they should have asked her, but Sam more than anyone didn’t want to know. Because once he asked, he was going to find out that his parents weren’t the same as his brothers’. There was no other reason for Jonas to remember that Sam had come “later”—after their parents had died.

He stood. “You’re right. We wouldn’t suit. I’m looking for a simplifier in my life. You wouldn’t be simple.”

She blinked. “Sam, I apologize for offending you. I just searched public records. It wasn’t like it took me more than five minutes to look through records that are open to anyone—”

He shoved his hat on his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Thanks, though.”

He departed, and Seton thought she’d never seen Sam move so quickly. She sighed. It was going to be awkward now every time they ran into each other in town. He hadn’t wanted to know anything about his life—had run from learning anything at all.

How did a woman accept a man’s offer when he claimed he didn’t know who he was?

Seton turned back to the case she’d accepted yesterday, involving a woman who thought her sister was siphoning off her funds by using her identity. Identity theft wasn’t as interesting as missing persons work, but Sam didn’t want to be found, and this job paid, so Seton sent Sam out of her mind.

She had to stop thinking about how very much she’d actually considered saying yes to his outrageous proposal.

“MAYBE AUNT CORINNE HAD a point,” Sabrina said when Seton called her that night. “Maybe you should have played it out awhile, at least until you’d figured out what he really wanted. The Callahans are crazy, but they’re crazy like foxes. There’s a method to their madness. And I think Sam wasn’t being honest with you or himself about his true motivation.”

Seton shifted on her hard wooden chair in her office. “He’ll have to find someone else to fill the check box on his life list.”

“Maybe that’s not all Sam wants.”

“It’s all he thinks he wants,” Seton pointed out.

Sabrina laughed. “I don’t remember any of the Callahan brothers going down easily.”

“We have nothing in common,” Seton assured her older sister, “and I don’t want a second failed marriage.” She idly rearranged the pencils and pens in her desk. “What would you do if Jonas came to you with the same proposition?”

“Why do you bring up Jonas?”

Seton heard the sudden tension in her sister’s voice. “Sam seems to think Jonas is calling you for a reason.”

“Probably. The Callahans do very little without a reason. It’s usually nothing that reveals itself to a serene mind, though. And I aim for serenity, as you know. So I don’t think about why he calls. I just chat with him for a minute or two until he gets it out of his system, and then I make an excuse to get off the phone.”

Seton wrinkled her nose. “Still, what would you do if Jonas offered you what Sam offered me?”

There was silence for a few moments. “Well,” Sabrina said, “since I’m pregnant, I’d very likely say yes.”

“What?” Seton was so flustered she didn’t know what to say. It was impossible to imagine her sister being pregnant. Sabrina hadn’t had a boyfriend in—”Is it Jonas’s?”

“Yes. But you can’t tell him.”

“Wait.” Seton leaned back in the chair, stretching her feet out in front of her and slipping off her pumps. Her head ached, her feet ached and her whole world seemed to be spinning on a twisted axis since she’d returned to Diablo. “When you did you two have a thing?”

“A fling,” Sabrina said, “and it happened when I was living upstairs at the Callahans.”

Seton frowned. “You two were certainly quiet about it. No one seems to know that you and Jonas were even interested in each other.”

“We’re not. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean it was a serious relationship. In spite of my best efforts and my diaphragm, I seem to have fallen under the Callahan charm.”

“Congratulations,” Seton said. “What do you mean, you’re not going to tell him? You’re planning to, right?”

She waited with some alarm for her sister’s answer. Which turned out to be exactly what she’d feared.

“No, I’m not. Jonas doesn’t want children, and he doesn’t want to get married. He was having a grand time watching his brothers rush to the altar, and planned on being the sole Callahan bachelor. He’s already bought his own piece of property, Dark Diablo. I’m not sure anyone knows he’s actually made the purchase. I can’t tell you how many times Jonas told me that Fiona might run his brothers around with her Grand Plan, but he’d figured out the best way to avoid the whole thing altogether.”

“I can’t believe this,” Seton murmured. “I’m going to be an aunt.”

“Not if you give away my secret,” her sister said. “I’ll revoke aunt privileges.”

Seton frowned. “I think your pregnancy will be obvious when you come back to Diablo, Sabrina.”

“I don’t plan on coming back. Ever.”

“You have to tell him sometime.” Seton felt as if the tables had been turned between the older sister and the younger, and now she was in charge of the scolding. “It’s not fair to the baby not to know his father.”

“That comes later,” Sabrina said. “Trust me, I have a plan. After the baby is born, I’ll tell him.”

Seton frowned again. “Why after?”

“Because all the Callahans have managed to get married before their babies were born, as I recall, or very shortly thereafter. I don’t want Jonas suffering a similar attack of conscience.”

“That’s terrible,” Seton said. “What about the poor child?”

“The poor child will be fine. I’m sure that he or she will later appreciate that I didn’t try to tie Dad down.”

“I don’t know,” Seton murmured slowly, and Sabrina said, “Back to your question.”

“What question?”

“About Sam’s proposal.”

“Actually, the question that got us here was what would you say if Jonas offered you the same proposal. You said you’d accept!” Seton exclaimed with delight. “Therefore, it only makes sense for you to tell him.”

“The proposal under consideration,” Sabrina reminded her, “is ‘marry me, Seton, and it’ll be a name-only thing, just to satisfy the family requirements.’ I would take that deal. But I’m not being offered anything by Jonas.”

“But you might be!” Seton felt compelled to fight for her niece or nephew’s sake. After all, aunts were meant to be advocates, weren’t they? “If you’d tell him!”

“The difference is, your deal is that there’ll be no babies, no sex,” Sabrina pointed out. “I can assure you that Jonas and I could never strike that bargain. Obviously, we’ve already had sex, and if we got within a mile of each other, we probably would again. But you and Sam—”

“Never would,” Seton said, somewhat morosely. “He made that pretty clear.”

“Exactly. So you’re in a stronger position.”

“Why?” Seton flexed her feet and shoved them back into her pumps. Her head was spinning, and she was ready to head out into the already dark street of Diablo. “You’re having a baby. I want a baby, and won’t get one from Sam.”

“I’ll leave you to figure out those details,” Sabrina said.

Seton flipped off her office lights and locked the door, stuffing her keys into her briefcase as she walked down the hall, cell phone to her ear. “Don’t you want to wear the magic wedding gown? It’s yours, Sabrina, after all.”

“No, I don’t. It was Mom’s, Seton. It’s only magic because it was Mom’s. I had nothing to do with that. I’ve been thrilled for other women to wear it and know their true love. Me? I’m just happy I’m going to be a mother, to be honest.”

Seton headed out into the brisk night air and glanced up at the stars. “I miss you. I can’t bear that you won’t ever come back to Diablo. Why didn’t you tell me that when I was in D.C. with you?”

“Because I had a strong feeling there was someplace else you belonged. And I’ve really gotten into this animal activist stuff,” Sabrina said. “That undercover investigation we did with the circus really fired me up. There’s a whole lot I can do, Seton. Next week, I get to speak before a committee on animal abuse. I like it here in D.C. And it’ll be a great place to raise a child.”

“Sure,” Seton said, not convinced. “Thanks for the chat, sis.”

“No problem. Go get him, is my advice.”

“I don’t want—” Seton began, but Sabrina had already hung up. “I don’t want him,” she murmured, walking to her car, not noticing the figure leaning against the door.

“Working late?” Sam asked, and Seton gasped.

“Sam!” She tossed her cell into her briefcase, feeling a little guilty about talking about him. She hoped he hadn’t heard anything she’d said. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting on you. How about we discuss things over a drink at Banger’s?”

Seton looked at Sam, thinking about her sister’s pregnancy. She couldn’t have a drink with Sam. If she did, she might start talking and unload Sabrina’s secret. It weighed so heavily on her now. “I don’t think so.”

“C’mon,” Sam said, “you look like you could use a chardonnay.”

“I could,” Seton said, “but I think Aunt Corinne is waiting on me with tea and cookies.”

“Nah. She’s playing bingo. I just saw her at the Books’n’Bingo with the blue-haired crowd. That means,” Sam said, with his trademark Callahan smile, “that I’m all yours for the evening, doll.”

Chapter Three

“I owe you an apology for my behavior earlier,” Sam said. Seton rattled him more easily than anyone he could remember, and that included judges and fellow lawyers.

“No need to apologize. I shouldn’t have looked for your family records.”

“You were trying to help. I appreciate that. Like you said, anyone could have found the same information,” Sam stated, ignoring her reluctance to accompany him by placing a hand under her elbow and guiding her toward Banger’s. “However, I need a wife more than a P.I. now.”

Seton pulled her arm away from his grasp and gave him a stern look. “I absolutely refuse to discuss weddings, marriage or proposals of any kind.”

“Suit yourself, doll,” Sam said as he led her into Banger’s. “Let me take that suitcase from you. It looks so heavy for such a delicate lady.”

She snatched her briefcase away. “Don’t patronize me, you ape. Or you’ll be sipping chardonnay with someone else tonight.”

He grinned. “I like a woman with spirit. I’m sure that’s obvious.”

“Well, I don’t like you,” she returned as she slid into a booth. “So don’t push your luck.”

Sam grinned and told himself that if he took things real slow with Seton, maybe, just maybe, he’d end up with her in his bed eventually. Of course, that would throw off the marriage-in-name-only angle. He studied her more carefully, and wondered if marriage-in-bed-only was more his game, anyway.

SETON FELT AS IF a wolf was watching her all night long. Okay, maybe she and Sam had been at Banger’s for only two hours, but she felt as if he was waiting to pounce on her. He watched her every move. She drank her wine faster, and didn’t decline when he ordered taquitos and Southwestern wraps. And more wine.

Somewhere along the way, she found herself having fun. “I’ve had enough,” Seton finally said, waving away the waiter with the liberal hand at pouring. “No more for me or I’m going to sprout grapevines.”

“The night’s still young.”

Young enough to get in trouble. “I’d better be going, Sam.” But she didn’t move. It was cozy in Banger’s, and the booth they’d been given was private and lit by candles. Seton told herself to relax; Sam wasn’t going to spring on her. And the fact that her sister was pregnant by his brother shouldn’t make her uneasy.

Of course, it did. She was worried for Sabrina, and Jonas, and the baby. The situation gnawed at her. Seton sipped at her wine, reminding herself that her sister’s life was her own.

“Jonas is driving me nuts,” Sam said. “He spends all his time hanging around the ranch. He won’t go out. He’s about as much fun as wet socks. I don’t know what his problem is.”

Seton shook her head. “Ask him.”

“He grunts by way of pleasantries these days.” Sam gazed at her. “How’s Sabrina, anyway?”

“Enjoying what she’s doing, I think.” Seton stared at Sam’s mouth and fleetingly wished they were kissing and not talking as if they were just friends.

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t suppose she’ll be coming back to Diablo anytime soon.”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s too bad. A little female companionship might be good for Jonas.”

Sam seemed genuinely worried about his brother. Seton had nothing to say that would relieve either of them, so she shrugged. “Thank you for a lovely meal, but I—”

He put a hand over hers as she clutched her purse. “Don’t go just yet.”

“Sam.” The temptation was too strong. His warm fingers on hers sent waves of longing through her. She didn’t want to acknowledge any feelings she might have for him at this point. Those feelings she’d had before—the questions that had brought her back to Diablo—simply couldn’t exist any longer. Even if everything else could be waved away with a magic wand—such as his reluctance to have children and her strong wish for a baby—Seton couldn’t date Sam in good conscience, knowing that Sabrina was pregnant with Jonas’s child. “I really have to go.”

She stood, surprised when Sam pressed her hand to his lips.

“Thank you for spending this evening with me,” he said, his tone agreeable and a little wistful. “I really didn’t want to go back to the ranch to look at Jonas’s sour puss another night.” Sam laid money on the table and put his hand against the curve of her back to guide her from the restaurant.

As they walked out, he waved to people he knew, and Seton was uncomfortably aware of the interested glances following them, especially from women. She wished Sam didn’t have his palm against her back; it felt so possessive. Yet wasn’t this why she’d returned to Diablo? To see if there could be anything between them?

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

Sam and Seton headed that way, crisp March breezes making them hurry faster than she would have liked. The thought made her feel a little guilty. She liked spending time with Sam, more than she should.

Sam waited while she unlocked her car. “Good night,” he said. “Thanks again for having dinner with me.”

Seton hesitated. “Sam, I really am sorry about digging into your family history.”

He looked at her. “I think you were meant to do it,” he said. “Why else would I decide I needed Nancy Drew in my life?”

Seton gazed back at him. “You mean all that proposal stuff was a ruse to get me checking into your family past?”

“No,” Sam said, “the offer’s still on the table. What I meant was that there are a ton of other single ladies around. I had to pick the one with a nose for solving mysteries. Maybe it was my subconscious directing me.”

Seton let herself sink into the driver’s seat. “Glad you weren’t attracted to me or anything.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “physical attraction usually has a short shelf life.”

“What would you have done if I’d said yes?” she asked, curious in spite of herself. “Given that you’re not attracted to me for anything except my curiosity.”

“Well,” Sam said, “first, I would have married you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “And then?”

“We would have stayed married until you got sick of ranch life, or decided that the long hours working as a lawyer got on your nerves.” He shrugged. “But you didn’t say yes, so you’re off the hook, lady.”

“Good thing, that,” Seton said, thinking about Sabrina.

“I guess that means you don’t plan to change your mind.”

She thought he actually looked hopeful that she might. “No,” Seton said softly. “I won’t.”

He grinned at her. “Too bad. I would probably have shown you a good time.”

She raised an eyebrow. “After we were married? Why not before? You have such a strange way of going about things.”

“That’s what makes me a successful lawyer,” Sam said cheerfully. “I never do what the opposition expects.”

“Nice to know. Good night, Sam.” Seton closed the car door and pulled out of the parking lot, somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t tried to kiss her good-night. He hadn’t even looked as if he wanted to.

Maybe he really wasn’t attracted to her. Could his proposal about a marriage-in-name-only have been sincere?

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself. The Callahans were already adding another baby to the clan—they just didn’t know it.

Even if she’d wanted to accept Sam’s proposal, she couldn’t have done it while keeping Sabrina’s secret.

A small part of Seton regretted that she and Sam could never be anything at all to each other. That secret would always be between them.

“HOW’S THE MARRIAGE proposal going?” Jonas asked when Sam made it back to the ranch. Since it was just the two of them, they’d taken to living in the main house now, giving up the bunkhouse almost for good. Sam missed the days when Fiona and Burke had been living upstairs, taking care of the massive, seven-chimneyed house. He missed them in general. Now he just had Jonas to look at.

“Slowly,” Sam said, “but not as slowly as your proposal is going.”

His brother waved a hand expansively as he sat in front of the fireplace, where he was reading the New York Times. “I’m not getting married. I tried it, remember? Got to the altar and everything went south. I’m not doing that again. It’s not as easy as it looks, bro.”

Sam thought his older brother was being a wienie. Despite the years between them, he felt he was the mature one, and Jonas the lagging runt. “You and Nancy were a hundred years ago. She’s been married with kids for the last ten, and you haven’t mentioned that old flame in five. Are you planning to sit here for the rest of your life reading newspapers on your iPad?”

Jonas nodded, his expression serene. “Yep.”

Sam sighed. “I’m going to bed. I have to be in court tomorrow.”

Jonas glanced up, removing his gaze from his stupid screen long enough to regard Sam with something like interest. “Anything about the ranch?”

“Bode’s lawyers want another continuance. At the rate they’re going, surely Bode’ll be in his grave before this lawsuit is over. Either that or I will.”

“You know,” Jonas said, his tone reflective, “I would have thought once Rafe caught Bode’s daughter and dragged her to the altar, the old coot would have seen that his granddaughters are going to get part of this joint, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “He’s pretty much disowned Julie, though.”

“He’s a fool.” Jonas shrugged and went back to his virtual newspaper.

Sam started to say that Bode wasn’t the only fool in Diablo, then decided he didn’t care if Jonas turned into a pile of salt. If his brother wanted to sit in front of that fireplace like a doddering old man, that was his problem, not Sam’s.

“Not me,” he muttered. “There’s got to be something more than a court case and Jonas in my world.”

“Did you say something?” his brother yelled after him.

“No!” Sam went on up the stairs and wondered if he could talk Seton into having dinner with him again tomorrow night.

Anything to keep him from ending up like the Odd Couple with his brother.

“DINNER TONIGHT?” Sam asked, poking his head into Seton’s office at five o’clock Monday afternoon.

She closed up her briefcase and shook her head. “It’s probably not a good idea, Sam.”

“I’m in the mood for Chinese,” he said. “Surely you can’t resist that?”

She looked at him, tempted in spite of herself. “I really must resist.” You and the Chinese food.

“Can’t is such a funny word,” Sam said. “It means you want to, but are making the conscious decision to decline your better judgment. You pick the restaurant. I’m easy.” He flung himself into one of the leather chairs facing her desk and shook his head. “Please say yes. It saves me from having to look at Jonas. I’ve had a long day in court, and trust me, I’d rather look at you than him.”

Seton shook her head. “Poor Jonas.”

“Poor Jonas nothing. He’s calcifying in front of the fireplace. It’s not a pretty sight.”

Seton wondered if it was possible—even remotely—that Jonas was hankering for Sabrina. “That doesn’t sound like the Jonas I remember.”

“Yeah, he’s a butthead.” Sam glanced around her office. “You need some pictures on the walls.”

“Decorating isn’t my strong suit.” Seton walked to her office door.

“Good to know. I nearly married you.”

She laughed. “No, you didn’t. I never came close to accepting your proposal. So forget about it.”

“All right.” Sam stood and joined her in the doorway. “Maybe we should try to fix Jonas and Sabrina up. Get them together somehow.”

Seton stared up at Sam. “I don’t think so. I did all the meddling I’m going to do when I dug around for information on you. I’ve given up on it.”

“You’re a P.I. Being nosy is your game.”

“But meddling isn’t.” She snapped off the lights and locked the door.

“He’s never going after her,” Sam said, and Seton glanced up at him, her heart suddenly lurching.

“No?”

Sam shook his head. “Nope. He’s too, I don’t know, mature or something. At least he thinks he is.”

“Oh.” She was conscious that Sam had taken her elbow while she wondered about Sabrina and Jonas. What if Jonas did go see her sister? What if—

She’d promised Sabrina to keep her secret. “My sister certainly won’t come back to Diablo.”

They walked into the local Chinese restaurant and Seton felt herself relaxing in the soothing atmosphere.

“What did Jonas do to her? I’ll pound him, I promise. He’s had it coming to him for a while.”

Seton started, not relaxed anymore. “Why would you think he’d done something to Sabrina?”

“If she won’t come back here, and he won’t go there, although he calls her often, then he’s done something. Trust me, I know Jonas. He’s a great heart surgeon, but that’s all he knows about matters concerning the heart. Want to go all-out on a pupu platter?”

“That actually sounds delicious.” Seton’s mind was spinning about Jonas and Sabrina. She eyed Sam as he studied the menu, thinking that it was a shame the two of them had such opposite life goals.

“I suppose we wouldn’t have to get married to satisfy my needs,” Sam said, and Seton said, “What needs?”

“Marital needs,” he said, not looking up from the menu. “My desire to have a wife, stability and peace and quiet.”

“You may be the only man who equates marriage with peace and quiet,” Seton observed, and sipped her sake.

“What if we got engaged,” Sam said thoughtfully, his gaze no longer on the menu but on her, which set her heart pounding as she realized he was working on a Callahan plot. “Just engaged, a really long-term engagement?”

“Your point?” she asked.

“I’d be as good as married, and you wouldn’t be afraid of getting tied down. Best of all, Sabrina would probably come home to our engagement party.”

Seton stared at him. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

Sam blinked. “Which part?”

“All of it. Order the pupu platter. I can’t plot on an empty stomach.”

He asked for a pupu platter and veggie egg rolls and maybe some dim sum—she wasn’t paying attention to anything but Sam’s face as he ordered—and then looked at her earnestly. “This could work.”

“I’m not following,” she said cautiously.

“They just need to be brought together,” Sam explained. “Then they could both move on with their lives, for better or worse.”

Seton had forgotten to ask how far along her sister was. She’d been too shocked to do so. She counted back how long it had been since Sabrina and she had left for D.C. It had been around four months.

Sabrina should definitely be showing.

“I don’t think she’d come back even to an engagement party,” Seton said. “Not that I’m considering a fake engagement to you, anyway.”

“You should,” Sam said. “There would be many pluses to being my fiancée.”

“I can’t think of a single one.” She dragged a crispy noodle through some sauce and munched it happily. “Besides, if Sabrina wouldn’t come back to Diablo, we’d be engaged for nothing. Then we’d have to break it, which would be a mess, and—”

“What if I told you,” Sam said slowly, thoughtfully, quietly, in a tone she’d never heard from him before, “that I wasn’t entirely opposed to having a baby?”

Seton blinked, nearly choking on her sake, which made her eyes water. She coughed and shook her head. “You’re so manipulative it’s scary. Or impressive. I can’t decide.”

“I’m serious,” Sam said. “I could tell as soon as I proposed that a baby was going to be your sticking point. As you said, both parties have to get something in an agreement. I’d get a wife and you’d get a baby. Stick that coin in your baby meter and see if it registers.”

She gave him a stern look and dabbed at her eyes with the white dinner napkin. “Sam, parenthood shouldn’t be negotiated. Babies aren’t bargaining chips.”

“No, they’re more like time bombs. Trust me, there’s several of them ticking away around the ranch, and something’s always going off.” He looked pretty cheerful about his observation. “One more would just add to the energy.”

He was already having one more Callahan. Seton shook her head. Their pupu platter arrived, along with more goodies Sam had ordered, and Seton dug in, hoping he would eat, too, and forget all about his newest idea. “This is delicious.”

“I know. This restaurant is great. They’ll deliver out to the ranch, too, which makes all of us very happy.” Sam frowned. “Jonas has quit cooking, and it’s really a pain.”

“Can’t you warm up a burger for yourself? Open a bag of Bertolli?” Seton looked at him curiously as she bit into an egg roll and moaned with joy. “I’ve never had egg rolls as good as they serve here. I literally craved them when I was in D.C.”

“Another reason you should never have left.” Sam waved his at her before dipping it in mustard and plum sauces. “When your aunt told me you were returning, I knew you belonged in Diablo. ‘That’s my girl,’ I told your aunt, and later, I realized that’s exactly what I meant.”

Seton put down her egg roll. “What, exactly, did you realize you meant?”

“That you were my girl. Or you should be. How many times do I have to tell you I need a wife?” Sam gazed at her. “Your aunt warned me that you might be a little stubborn. I told her I could handle it.” He started on the dim sum with gusto.

“Maybe I don’t want to be your girl,” Seton said with some heat. “You know, in some places, in a lot of places, this domineering attitude of yours could be construed as chauvinism.”

“Nope. Desire.” Sam closed his eyes as he licked his fingers. “This is so good I could eat it for breakfast.”

Seton sighed and joined him in eating the dim sum. “Sam, you were quite certain you didn’t want children.”

“But I’ve had time to reconsider my position,” he said, “and you’d be cute pregnant. You’re tall, but not too tall, and have nice curves, so you’ll be a stunner. Sabrina’s short and has that bright red hair, so she’d probably look like a plump, cute—”

“Ugh,” Seton said, “don’t talk about it.”

“Why?” Sam looked at her. “I just meant that you’d be very beautiful carrying a baby, Seton. And I’m willing to make that happen.”

“How?” she asked, with some acerbity. “Didn’t you say that our fakey thing would be in name only?”

“I’m flexible.” Sam grinned at her, and Seton’s heart jumped.

“Flexible.”

“Sure. See how hard I’m trying to make this agreement work?”

“I wasn’t aware we were negotiating.”

“Aren’t we?” Sam poured some more sake into her cup.

“I don’t think so.” Seton stared at him, wondering what it was he really wanted. Corinne and Sabrina had both said that there was more to Sam’s offer than it seemed. Seton wondered if they were right.

“We have to get those two back together somehow,” Sam said. “All parties benefit.”

“I thought you weren’t attracted to me.”

Surprise crossed Sam’s face. “Did I say that?”

“You said something like it.”

Sam laughed out loud. “Give me a chance, angel face.”

“This is so crazy,” Seton said under her breath. “You’re absolutely nutty.”

“Probably,” Sam said cheerfully. “But I can tell you like me, even if you don’t know why.”

Her lips twisted. “My, what a big ego you have, wolfie.”

“Needs a good woman to keep it in check.” Sam didn’t seem too bothered by that. “Think of how much fun we could have trying to start a baby. Practice makes perfect, I hear.”

She stared at him. “I doubt it.”

“Well, we’d know in nine months,” Sam said. “We probably shouldn’t waste any time finding out.”

Seton eased back, so full that she felt stuffed, and so annoyed with Sam she didn’t know what to think.

“I understand that you need a guarantee,” he continued. “I wouldn’t buy a horse without checking it out thoroughly, either. We could give it a few months, see if the stork has room in his calendar for us, and then announce our engagement. Or marriage, whichever you’re in the mood for at that time. Then Sabrina would come home for your baby shower—”

Seton narrowed her eyes. “You seem very determined to get my sister back to Diablo. What’s with that?”

“My brother’s suffering,” Sam said. “You’d pity him if you saw him. He’s practically wasting away.”

“Not over Sabrina.” Seton wondered exactly what had transpired between Sabrina and Jonas that she hadn’t noticed. A pregnancy, for one thing.

But how much else? Was her sister in love?

Maybe Seton owed it to her future niece or nephew to find out.

“Think it over,” Sam said. “Very little downside for you. If you were a gambling woman—”

“I’m not,” she snapped. “I see the odds as being very long that any of this works out.”

“Tell you what.” He leaned forward, his voice soft enough for only her to hear. “If we find ourselves with a baby, I’ll sign over my portion of the ranch to the child.”

Seton blinked. “Why?”

“It’d be theirs in due time, anyway,” Sam said, eternally optimistic, “and you’d have a better place for your office than that dingy building you’re in now.”

“I like my office,” Seton said. “It’s my own private space.”

“You’d like the ranch better,” Sam told her. “Office and nursery in one.”

She wasn’t going to succumb to the lure he presented. For Sabrina, maybe. But it was a long shot. Seton didn’t know if her sister even liked Jonas.

She’d liked him well enough to make love with him.

“This is terrible,” Seton groaned. “You have no idea the dilemma I’m in.”

“It’s hard pushing the upper end of your ovarian best-by date,” Sam said sympathetically.

“I’m twenty-six, thank you very much,” she retorted. “And that’s not what I meant, anyway. I can’t even imagine myself in bed with you, Sam.”

He grinned. “That’s funny, because I can see myself in bed with you—and liking it. A lot.”

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