Your Ranch...Or Mine?. Kathie DeNosky
Donaldson was a scheming, cheating snake in jeans. Villains in the old Western movies her grandfather used to watch always wore black hats and, quite appropriately, Donaldson’s wide-brimmed Resistol was as black as his heart. But the one thing she hadn’t counted on was how darned good-looking he would be.
Watching him bid farewell to an extremely pregnant woman and her husband, Taylor couldn’t help but notice how tall he was, how physically fit. From his impossibly wide shoulders to his trim waist, long, muscular legs and big, booted feet, he had the body of a man who spent his days doing manual labor. Not the look she’d expected of someone who sat for endless hours at a poker table. But what had really thrown her off guard was the warmth and sincerity she’d detected in his chocolate-brown eyes. Framed with lashes as black as his hair, they were the kind of eyes a woman could feel safe getting lost in.
Taylor gave herself a mental shake. Donaldson might be Mr. Tall, Dark and Drop-Dead Gorgeous, but he wasn’t a man who could be trusted any farther than she could pick him up and throw him. He was a con man, a swindler—a conniving thief. There was no way he could have won half of the Lucky Ace Ranch in a card game with her grandfather if he hadn’t cheated. For over sixty years her grandfather had been considered one of the best players in the world of high-stakes professional poker, and he would never have risked any part of his ranch if he hadn’t been certain he could beat the man.
“Let’s go inside,” Donaldson said when he reached the table where she was sitting.
“Why?”
She hadn’t been inside her grandfather’s home in several years and she worried her emotions would get the better of her when she walked into the house without him being there. That was something she would rather die than allow Donaldson to see.
He pointed to the catering staff as they cleaned up. “I thought my office might be a little more private.” He shrugged. “But it’s up to you how much privacy you think we need.”
Grinding her back teeth over the fact that he’d called her grandfather’s office his, Taylor pushed her chair back. She could deal with her feelings later—after she’d ousted the interloper.
“The office is fine,” she said, rising to her feet. “I doubt that you’ll want anyone to hear what I have to say anyway.”
He stared at her for several long seconds before he nodded and stepped back so she could lead the way across the yard.
Taylor felt his gaze on her back as she walked up the steps and crossed the porch, but she ignored the little shiver of awareness that streaked up her spine. She had come to Texas for one reason. She was going to confront the man who had stolen part of her grandfather’s ranch, buy it back, then take great pleasure in ordering him off the property.
But when she entered the kitchen, she forgot all about Donaldson and his disturbing gaze as emotion threatened to swamp her. Being in her grandfather’s ranch house, knowing that he wasn’t there and never would be again, was almost more than she could bear.
“The office is just down the hall and to your...”
“I know where it is,” she snapped, cutting him off. To have a rank stranger try to direct her through a house that held the happiest memories of her childhood irritated her as little else could.
Her heart ached with unshed tears when she walked into her grandfather’s office. How could everything look the same and yet be entirely different from the last time she was here?
“Please have a seat, Ms....”
“My name is Taylor Scott,” she answered automatically.
Nodding, Donaldson motioned toward one of the two big leather armchairs in front of the desk. “Would you like something to drink, Taylor?”
The sound of his deep baritone saying her name caused an interesting little flutter in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium and lowered herself onto the chair. “N-no, thank you.”
He placed his hat on the credenza, then walked around the desk to sit in the high-backed chair. “What is it that you wanted to discuss with me?”
Maybe if she waited to reveal her identity she could get him to incriminate himself as having cheated her grandfather. “I’d like to know what you intend to do with your interest in the Lucky Ace,” she stated, meeting his dark brown gaze head on.
She wasn’t surprised when his expression remained unreadable. After all, he was a professional poker player and well practiced at keeping his emotions concealed.
“I’m not in the habit of discussing something of this nature with a stranger,” he said as if choosing his words carefully.
“I understand you won half of the ranch from Ben Cunningham.” When he nodded, she went on. “I’m here to make you an offer for your share.”
He slowly shook his head. “It’s not for sale.”
“Are you sure, Donaldson? The offer I’m willing to make is quite generous.”
“Please, call me Lane,” he said, giving her a smile that caused her heart to skip a beat. Several of Hollywood’s leading men were among her clients. They’d spent thousands of dollars on dental and cosmetic surgery and still couldn’t come close to having his perfect smile.
Giving herself a mental shake, she decided to focus on the fact that he was a swindler and ignore his good looks, as well as his request to call him by his first name. That was more personal than she cared to get with the man.
“I’m prepared to pay you well above market value if you can vacate the property within a week,” she pressed.
“I’m quite happy here, and even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t consider selling my share of the Lucky Ace without consulting my partner first, and he’s currently in California.” He silently stared at her, as if analyzing the situation, before he spoke again. “Why do you think you want my share of the ranch?”
“I don’t think I want the ranch. I know I want it,” she said impatiently.
“Why?” he demanded. She could tell she was getting to him when he sat forward, showing the first signs that he was becoming irritated with the situation.
Confident that she was gaining the upper hand, she couldn’t help but smile. “Before we get into that, could I ask you a couple of questions, Donaldson?”
He stared at her for a moment before he answered. “You can ask, but I’m not guaranteeing that I’ll give you the answers you want to hear.”
“How did you manage to get Ben Cunningham to wager any part of this ranch in that poker game last fall?” she queried.
“Why do you think it was my idea that he use the Lucky Ace to cover his bet?” he asked, slowly leaning back in the desk chair.
“Are you saying he voluntarily put it up?” she shot back.
“Why do you think otherwise, Taylor?” he asked, sounding irritatingly calm.
She had heard that he was a licensed psychologist, and it seemed that the rumor was true. Instead of answers, he followed every one of her questions with one of his own—like any good therapist would do. Taylor decided right then and there that if he asked her how she felt about the situation, she was going to reach across the desk and bop him a good one.
“I happen to know that he wouldn’t have wagered the ranch unless he was certain he had the winning hand,” she stated flatly.
“So you know Mr. Cunningham?” he asked, his expression still as bland as dry toast.
“Yes, I know him quite well. But we’ll get to that later.” She was getting nowhere fast and it infuriated her no end that Donaldson remained calm and collected when she was filled with nothing but frustration and anger. She was ready for a verbal battle, but he wasn’t taking the bait. “What I’d like to know is why you’re living here in his house.”
“That’s