Cathy Thacker - The Texas Rancher's Family

However, he hadn’t expected to hear about the most difficult times of Erin’s life. Or to have dinner in such a warm and homey atmosphere. Or to see his own little girl, who was so often lonely, fit right in with Erin’s boys.

It all made him want to keep coming back to the Triple Canyon Ranch.

And not on business.

Which was why he should head back to town. Now.

“That’s very kind of you to offer,” he told Erin. “But you really don’t have to put us up for the night.”

She gave him a wry once-over, letting him know what a gringo she deemed him to be. Mac found himself grinning back. Chemistry sizzled between them, more electric than the supercharged air outside. Wanting her, Mac knew, would be a lot more dangerous to him than a simple thunderstorm.

“Texas hospitality kind of says I do,” Erin quipped. “After all, it wouldn’t be neighborly of me to turn you and your daughter out in this.”

Mac looked away from the softness of her lips. He needed to be a gentleman here. “I appreciate your concern, Erin, but I assure you, I’ve driven in storms before. And before you point out that the country roads can be confusing around here, I’d like to remind you that I found my way to the ranch. I can find my way back to town.” Mostly, Mac thought, because his smartphone had GPS. Had he relied only on road signs—which were few and far between—and the directions she had given him, he’d have been up a creek.

The power flickered briefly as Erin led the way back into the house. The kids had moved from the kitchen table to a jigsaw puzzle set up on the game table in the family room.

“The point is, you don’t have to. We have plenty of room here. And...” Erin cast another look at his daughter, who was sitting with her head propped up on her hand “Heather looks exhausted.”

Mac couldn’t argue that point. She did appear tired. Barely able to keep her eyes open.

Lightning zigzagged across the sky, followed by a house-rattling clap of thunder. “How about I show you the guest quarters before you make up your mind?”

Reminding himself that he was doing this for his daughter, Mac nodded and followed Erin up the stairs.

Once again it had been a mistake to let her go first. All he could see when he glanced up was the graceful sway of her hips as she climbed the steps. The sexy spill of her hair, brushing across her shoulders. The hem of her T-shirt caressing her slender waist. Lower still were long, sleek thighs encased in the sky-blue jeans, and sexy calves disappearing into the tops of her custom peacock-blue boots.

Damn, but she was one attractive woman.

Oblivious to his admiring glance, Erin turned at the newel post and led the way down a long hallway. They passed what must be her sons’ rooms, and then paused in the doorway of a third.

It was sparsely decorated and painted a pale pink.

Mac had a feeling he knew whose room this had been, so he kept a respectful distance as Erin pulled out a trundle bed that was half the height of the other mattress. “You’ll be able to sleep right next to Heather,” she said, patting the crisp sheets. “Whether on the lower or higher bed is up to you. And the boys’ rooms are right next door, so I imagine that will comfort Heather.”

Erin was right—it would. Mac studied her expression as the power flickered briefly once again.

Thunder rumbled closer.

“You’re sure it’s okay?” he rasped, wishing she would give him some reason not to want her.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t,” she murmured, her eyes telling him she was as affected by his presence as he was by hers.

They exchanged glances, and an intimacy Mac hadn’t expected welled up between them. Decision made, he ignored the punch of desire in his gut. Just because he felt it didn’t mean he had to act on it.

He nodded agreeably. “Then we’ll bunk here for the night.”

Chapter Four

Erin was curled up in a corner of the living room sofa, sketch pad on her lap, when Mac finally came back downstairs nearly an hour later. His hair was rumpled, his shirttail out, shoes off, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbow. The sleepy look in his eyes indicated he might have briefly nodded off, too, after tucking Heather into bed. Erin smiled, appreciating the fact that he’d cared enough to stay with his daughter until she fell asleep.

“Nicholas get home okay?” he asked in a low, husky voice that warmed her inside and out.

Telling herself they were just being nice to each other because they were stuck here together for the duration of the storm, Erin nodded. “He’s upstairs doing homework.” She gazed up at Mac. “Can I get you anything?”

A sexy glimmer shone briefly in his eyes, as if he had an answer to that. One she wouldn’t want to hear. “I’m good. Thanks.” His glance trailed over the red-white-and-blue lady’s boot, emblazoned with stars and stripes, that she’d been designing. “What’s this?”

“A limited edition woman’s boot that will be prototyped in time for Independence Day.”

“Nice.” Mac sat down beside her on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “How many copies will you make?”

Damn, but he smelled good. Like soap and man and an ever-so-faint hint of expensive cologne.

Erin tried not to think about what it would be like to kiss him, which would have been a whole lot easier if he wasn’t giving off so many pheromones and didn’t have such erotically sculpted lips. Not that she was noticing... “We’ll stop at two hundred.”

“How long will it take to sell out?”

How long would it take for her to squelch the desire she hadn’t felt since she couldn’t remember when? “Once I put a pair up on the website and in the store? About a week.”

He continued to study the design. “I like it,” he murmured. “It’s...”

“Patriotic?”

“Very,” he drawled as he settled more comfortably beside her, his elbow briefly brushing hers. “And speaking of boots, when do you want to finish the order for mine?”

Erin put her sketchbook aside. “No time like the present.”

“Great!” He beamed.

Determined to resist the disarming smile he sent her way, she rose and strode purposefully toward the armoire. Maybe it was best they keep their mind on business, rather than anything personal. Heaven knew they had shared enough earlier in the evening.

“Ready to get started?” she asked, returning with an array of samples and a book of color photos.

He nodded. “You really love this, don’t you?”

Erin replied with a shrug, “I love the design work, helping customers figure out what they want and turning their wishes into reality.”

“Do you actually make the boot, too?” His voice was low and gravelly and sexy as hell.

Erin sat down beside him. “Sometimes I do.” She’d probably make Mac’s, because of the time constraints. “But for the most part, the four artists Monroe’s employs make the lasts and do the actual cutting and sewing and buffing in their home studios.” Erin opened up her satchel. “Any idea what color boot you want?”

“Dark brown.”

No surprise there. She fanned out a bunch of samples.

Mac stared at them, as flummoxed as most men when confronted with all those choices. “I had no idea there were so many different shades of dark brown.”

She pointed out the undertones in several of the shades. “There’s also a difference in texture. Crocodile or lizard skin is bumpy.” She placed his hand over the hide, so he could feel it, then moved it to the next. “Kangaroo is a little softer. Cowhide is more durable.”

“Which would you suggest?”

Erin shrugged. “Depends on whether you plan to use them for outdoor activity or the boardroom.”