The Nanny and the CEO. Rebecca Winters
deepened.
For another woman, that would have been coy and flirtatious. But Rena Lambert was neither of those. She was aloof—painfully aloof—and quiet in a way that fairly shouted proof that her father frequently berated her.
It was no secret that the old man was an SOB, and that he treated his only child like dirt. Ford wondered why she took it. Did she think she deserved it or had Abner undermined her so much that she was afraid to go out into the world on her own?
Ford had only tolerated Abner’s visit yesterday because Rena intrigued him. He’d learned nothing that truly satisfied his curiosity, but he’d been shocked by what Abner Lambert meant to do to his daughter. The injustice of that was far sharper for Ford than the personal insult of having a crazy old man use a piece of land to buy a husband for his daughter.
And why the hell would he need to? Rena was beautiful. Her dark, glossy hair came down just past her collar, but it was thick and lustrous and straight. Her face was an intriguing mix of high cheekboned beauty and common symmetry. Her nose was fine and straight and her mouth had a vulnerability to it that asked a man to go slow.
Combined with a close-up view of the rest of her, Rena Lambert was a pleasure to look at. The lustful feelings he’d felt toward her in the past impacted him more deeply and forcefully than ever now. The notion that he might have to marry her wasn’t exactly distasteful.
But instinct warned him to conceal that. She was already here to put a stop to her father’s scheme. Any hint of personal interest from him would scare her away, and he wasn’t yet certain what he truly wanted, other than a parcel of land.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight,” he said, unable to take his eyes from her.
Her blue gaze shifted to his when he spoke, but dropped away almost instantly.
“I can’t…have supper with you. I—” She cut herself off as the two ranch hands from the stud barn arrived to collect the stallion.
Rena’s nerves were jumping painfully high now that the moment had come to speak to Ford Harlow. She was tall for a woman, but Ford made her feel petite and feminine. He wasn’t peacock handsome, but he was rugged and compelling. So compelling that she felt the power of his dark gaze on her every second.
The long-repressed femininity she rarely acknowledged was clamoring at his nearness. Men didn’t normally affect her, but something about Ford’s masculinity pulled at her.
A peculiar feeling that was half excitement, half fear sparkled sweetly through her and she tried desperately to suppress it. She was terrified her reaction to him would show, because something in his nearly black gaze hinted at unerring perception. She wasn’t used to men like him. The men she worked with every day accepted her presence, but nothing in their manner or in the way they spoke to her had ever seemed personal.
Every look Ford gave her, every word he spoke, somehow seemed intensely personal, as if he meant to catch her notice, as if he was either probing for something or trying to coax it out of her. It was terrifying, it was flattering, it was profoundly confusing.
It dawned on her then that she’d let several moments go by without finishing the sentence she’d cut off when Ford’s men had led the stallion away. Her gaze shot back to see the calmness in his. He was waiting for her, watching her steadily and the peculiar feeling of excitement and fear soared higher.
“Pardon me,” she said hastily to apologize for the brief wait, then struggled to keep from fidgeting as she went on, determined to get it out. “My father just told me about…”
Her heart quailed with dread. She glanced away from him, seeking relief from the sharp search his dark eyes made of hers.
“About what my father asked, I had nothing to do with that,” she told him. “I refuse to let him…”
The frustration of wanting to declare her intentions without saying too much about her true relationship with her father made it difficult. Her gaze shifted back to Ford’s just in time to see him step toward her and reach for her arm.
“Let’s go to the house, Miz Lambert, get something cool to drink. We can talk there.”
Rena froze that second before his strong fingers closed warmly around her arm. She tried not to flinch, but she couldn’t seem to control that. She couldn’t control the sudden, baffling weakness of her legs as she turned with him to start through the stable to go to the house.
She’d had no fear of the runaway stallion, no worries about standing her ground and catching his lead to calm him down, but she was terrified of this, so terrified. And the grimness about Ford now further unsettled her.
Could he feel the small earthquake his touch set off? The pleasure-fear of his warm grip surged so strongly that the moment they were through the stable, she pulled her arm away. Horrified that the awkward movement suggested she couldn’t bear his touch another moment, she faltered to a halt. So did he, and his calm gaze fastened on hers.
Her mouth went dry with bad nerves and it was a struggle to get the words out.
“I mean no offense to you, Mr. Harlow. What my father suggested…I won’t be part of that. Good day.”
She cringed inwardly at the stiff way it had come out, particularly the clumsy formality of that last. Good day. Fake-sounding and pretentious in a way that sent heat to her face and a sick feeling to her stomach. And she’d meant to say it then walk to her pickup and leave, but her legs were trembling and she couldn’t seem to move.
The sick feeling deepened as Ford’s expression went grim. Her worked up emotions felt the shock of the sudden change all the way to her feet.
“The drought’s getting worse, Ms. Lambert. I need the water on that west section.”
The drought of the past two years had depleted water resources in that part of Texas. Lambert Ranch had also been affected, but it was still water rich. Enough so that her father could let that west section go to Ford Harlow and still have plenty.
“Make my father an offer, but ask to lease the land. He’s cutting back on stock, so the cash will come in handy.”
It was a confidential bit of information that caused her a strong pang of guilt, but the truth was Abner was growing more difficult to work with, and he now had trouble keeping good ranch hands. Hence the cutback in livestock.
Ford’s stern expression hardened even more and for the first time, Rena got a clear glimpse of harshness and implacability. The kindness she’d seen in him before suddenly seemed as much a rippling mist above hard pavement as any other mirage.
She realized then that her secret fantasies about this man had been just as foolish and naive as her hope that her father would at last approve of her. She should have guessed that Ford Harlow was a harsh, implacable man. He was successful and he ruled his own small Texas empire. There could be no true softness in him, no sign of anything that wasn’t domineering and driven for him to be able to rule over so much and several other business interests as well. She’d always been intimidated by him, but she’d not thought it was due to more than his rugged good looks or his terse, no-nonsense manner.
She’d been wrong. Particularly after what she’d grown up with, she should have been able to see Ford Harlow for what he was: a man like her father. Not emotionally twisted like Abner—at least she hoped not—but hard and driven to have the world bow down at a finger snap. A man who felt entitled to get his way however it affected lesser mortals.
Nothing changed on Ford’s stern face, so she added more. “Ask him to lease you the land. He’ll will Lambert Ranch to Frank Casey, and Frank will likely need to sell off that section to pay inheritance taxes. There’s no reason for…” Her voice choked to a whisper and she felt her face heat. “No reason for you—”
She cut herself off and glanced away to finish it. “People don’t do that kind of thing anymore. At least, not where it’s civilized.”
The silence between them thundered in her