Luke's Proposal. Lois Dyer Faye
didn’t blink under his stare. Luke considered her for a moment, then he lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward to pull the chair away from the table. She accepted his silent invitation and sat, her back ramrod-straight, ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap, her expression one of resolution.
Luke crossed one ankle over his opposite knee and eyed her, waiting.
Rachel had thought long and hard before approaching Luke McCloud. She knew asking for his help was a long shot, but she was desperate and he was her last hope. Determined though she was, she’d almost turned around and walked out of the tavern when she’d looked across the room and seen him. Stiffening her resolve, she’d forced her feet to carry her across the bar.
But the closer she drew, the more nervous she became.
She’d forgotten how big he was—over six feet tall and heavily muscled, his body honed daily by strenuous ranch work. He sat alone, his long, jeans-clad legs stretched out, ankles crossed, feet resting on the seat of an empty chair. His boots were scuffed and scarred, the black leather showing the unmistakable wear marks of spur straps and metal. His white cotton shirt was fastened up the front with pearl snaps, the long sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows, the tails tucked into the waistband of faded Levi’s. His gaze was remote, and she’d seen no flicker of expression cross his face as he’d watched her walk toward him.
His features gave no hint as to what he was thinking, but Rachel doubted his thoughts were friendly ones. She’d planned this conversation with painstaking detail and tried to anticipate every possible reaction from anger, curses or having him walk out of the bar.
No matter what he did, she was determined to follow him and keep talking until he listened. “I have a business proposition,” she repeated, “and I hope you’ll hear me out before refusing.”
He raised an eyebrow, his skepticism obvious, before he nodded.
“I’m sure you’ve heard my grandfather left a will that was…” She paused, searching for the right word before deciding to opt for frankness. “Let’s just say it might be called unusual.”
“I heard,” he acknowledged. His deep drawl sent shivers of nerves up her spine.
“It’s no secret Granddad split the ranch and left specific portions to each of us, nor that the inheritance taxes assessed after his death are staggering. Mother and I can’t pay our share of the tax owed and we’re on the verge of bankruptcy.” He barely reacted to her blunt words; she would have missed the faint narrowing of his eyes if she hadn’t been intent on watching him.
“All of you? Or only you and your mother?”
“Only me and my mother. And maybe Zach.” Before he could ask why her uncle Harlan and his son Lonnie weren’t affected, Rachel continued. “Our only asset capable of paying the tax debt on the land is a three-year-old stud colt out of Misty Morning by Ransom’s Regret.” The brief flare of interest in his face was quickly erased, but it was enough encouragement for Rachel to continue. “I want to hire you to train him. And to race him.” She stopped speaking, holding her breath for his answer, nerves sending her pulse pounding.
“No.”
She wasn’t surprised. She’d expected a flat refusal, at first. But he hadn’t heard the terms. “We don’t have cash to pay your fees. But we have the deed to the north section of the ranch.”
For a long moment he only looked at her. “You’re offering me the deed to the original McCloud homestead instead of cash?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Two
“Our families have fought over ownership of the homestead for more than eighty years. Now you’re volunteering to sign over 2500 acres of prime land to a McCloud?” Skepticism tinged his deep voice.
“Yes.”
He studied her, his gaze fastened on hers as he lifted the bottle and drank, the muscles of his throat moving rhythmically. Rachel refused to look away, despite the instant, vivid memory of that sensual, hard mouth on hers. If she was to have any hope of convincing him to agree to a business relationship, she couldn’t let him know he still made her knees weak. She’d never been able to forget the kiss they’d shared when she was seventeen. She’d avoided him ever since. She’d been kissed by other men since. Why hadn’t she forgotten the taste and feel of his mouth on hers?
He lowered the bottle. “I can’t believe your uncle knows you’re doing this.”
“He doesn’t,” Rachel said flatly. “And though he’s bound to find out sooner or later, I’d prefer to delay that moment as long as possible.”
“If he doesn’t know, how can he sign off on the deed?”
“My mother will sign. She has control of the property.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed over her, his expression sharpening. “Your grandfather left the McCloud homestead to his dead son’s widow and not to Harlan?”
“Yes.” Rachel refused to elaborate further.
“Your mother moved away from the ranch years ago. I thought she and Marcus were estranged.”
His blue stare was unreadable. Rachel had the uneasy feeling he was weighing each word she said. She was an intensely private person, as was her mother, and they’d agreed to keep the difficulties and disagreements they’d had with Marcus, Harlan and Lonnie within the family. How much did she have to tell Luke to convince him that her mother had the authority to sign the deed and give him the land?
“My mother wanted my brother and me to grow up on the ranch, but when Zach was gone and I left for college, she moved into the house in town she inherited from her parents. She’s involved in many community projects and it’s more convenient for her to live in Wolf Creek rather than twenty miles away on the ranch.”
Rachel knew he wasn’t completely satisfied with her carefully worded explanation. She felt her face heat as he studied her.
“Why don’t you just sell the land to me outright? It might take a few weeks for me to get the cash, but the money would be a sure thing. No matter how good your horse is, racing quarter horses is always a gamble.”
“We considered that,” she admitted, pausing to glance over her shoulder at the bar, buying time to steady her nerves. The waitress looked distinctly unfriendly, but Rachel lifted her hand to beckon her anyway. The woman ignored her, purposely turning her attention to a cowboy seated on a bar stool, and Rachel turned back to Luke. She’d anticipated this question. But, the necessity of telling him a half-truth went against every principle she held dear. The whole truth, however, that the will had said her mother could only accept one dollar from him in return for the property deed, would destroy any hope of his agreeing to train Ransom’s Mist. And Luke and Ransom’s Mist were the only chance she had to guarantee that the inheritance left to her mother, Zach and herself wasn’t lost forever.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, glancing past her to the waitress.
“No. I’ve changed my mind.” She drew a deep breath, calmer now, and continued. “Mom and I don’t want to give up any more acres than are absolutely necessary. We want to hold the sections that Granddad left us individually and combine them with the land he left to my brother, Zach. He loves ranching and he loves the land.”
“Then why isn’t he the one talking to me?”
“Because we can’t reach him.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, tucking the long fall behind her ear. “He’s overseas at the moment.”
“Hmm.” Luke’s eyes narrowed. The nervous gesture was the first indication she was anything other than cool and in control. She hadn’t once mentioned her cousin Lonnie. Smart woman, he thought. This conversation would have been over if she’d told him Lonnie was the family member she wanted to join forces with. “I had a cousin in the