Cathy Thacker - The Inherited Twins

Claire flushed. Deep down, she’d had much the same thought. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Because you’d make a cute couple!” his wife exclaimed.

“Not everyone needs to be married.” T.S. turned to Claire with a wink. “But a little romance is always nice.”

Claire’s face was now fire-engine red. “He’s a guest!” she declared, as if that settled it.

“And you’re a woman and he’s a man,” Mrs. Finglestein quipped. “Seriously. You’re both available. We all saw the way Heath was looking at you just now. You should think about pursuing the attraction.”

“What’s the harm in generating a few sparks?” T.S. teased.

None, Claire thought. Unless her plan to make the guest ranch a success sputtered and failed, and Heath was forced—by virtue of his own responsibilities—to end her family’s dreams.

Figuring he should take advantage of the trails everyone had been raving about, Heath set his alarm, grabbed a flashlight and went for a predawn run. The morning was crisp and clear and the air felt good in his lungs. Coming back to the ranch house afterward, he noticed that the lights were on.

Through the windows, Heath could see Claire moving around the kitchen.

He wondered if she was still ticked off at him, and even more curious as to why it mattered so much. After all, the two of them had just met.

He exhaled.

It all came down to the kiss they’d shared. His response to her, hers to him. There was definitely something there. Some special chemistry he could not ignore. He paused to stretch out his muscles, drew a few more deep, cooling breaths, then sauntered in.

Claire took a pan of freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the oven and set them on the counter to cool.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She gave the pot of oatmeal a stir. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Damn, but she looked gorgeous in a long denim skirt, a chestnut-hued sweater and the stack-heeled boots she wore around the ranch. Her honey-blond curls had a mussed, casual look that suited her perfectly. Heath edged closer. “You were up awfully late last night.”

Bypassing the coffee simmering on the warmer, she poured him a tall glass of ice water from the pitcher on the counter. “How do you know?”

Heath chugged the liquid gratefully. “I saw the lights.”

Her expression closed, she didn’t comment.

Okay, so she was ticked off at him. “Did you get your video finished?” he pressed.

“Yes.” Seeing he’d finished his water, she poured him some coffee with the impersonal politeness of a restaurant hostess.

Heath studied the pink color in her cheeks. “What’s the plan?”

Claire avoided his eyes as she mixed confectioner’s sugar, vanilla and milk. “Why are you asking?”

He matched her contentious tone. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

She raised her chin, resentment simmering in her amber eyes. “Perhaps because you don’t approve and you don’t even know what I’m doing,” she blurted.

Heath took a sip of coffee, finding it as delicious as everything else she cooked, which somehow rankled even more. “I didn’t say that,” he stated evenly.

She released a short, bitter laugh. “Didn’t have to. I could see the little cash register in your brain going when you heard I bartered a night’s rent in exchange for help making the video.”

Heath exhaled. “You have to admit that’s not going to improve your cash flow.”

“We’ll see,” she said shortly.

He finished his coffee in silence and set his mug down on the counter. “You don’t want to tell me anything more about it?”

She reached for the decanter and refilled his mug. “Nope.”

Another silence fell, until Heath finally cleared his throat. “About Ginger…”

Claire tasted the frosting she was making and added a bit more vanilla. She hit the switch on the mixer, keeping her eyes on the concoction swirling around in the bowl. “I really don’t want to talk about Ginger, either,” she said tightly.

Resisting the urge to forgo all conversation and simply pull her close and kiss her again, he said, “I know how she made it sound last night.”

“Really.” Claire turned off the mixer and planted a hand on her hip. “And how was that?”

“Like she and I are getting closer than we are.”

Claire’s brow lifted. “Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with her?”

“I don’t have to—Ginger knows where she and I stand. Ours is a business relationship, period.”

“Yeah, well—” Claire’s lower lip shot out “—so is ours, and you kissed me.”

Heath tore his gaze from her mouth. “That kiss had nothing to do with business,” he told her gruffly.

“I agree.” Her eyes glimmered with emotion. “Which is why it shouldn’t happen again, given the fact that you and I have a business relationship.”

“Actually, we don’t have a business relationship,” Heath corrected, aware that, ethically, there was a fine line, and he was walking it. “My business arrangement is with your niece and nephew.”

Claire began icing the rolls. “You represent the fiduciary interests of the kids. And I’m their guardian.”

“Which puts us on the same team, because you want what is best for them, too.”

The buzzer went off. She slipped on heat-proof gloves and removed a casserole from the oven. “I’m just not sure we agree what that is going to be.”

Heath wasn’t, either. “I want you to succeed,” he said finally.

Noting him eyeing the egg, sausage, cheese and potatoe medley, she went ahead and cut him a square. It was piping hot and delicious, and only helped make her case that she knew what she was doing here…

“Then do whatever you have to with the bank and the trust to give me more time,” she pleaded, in a way that made it very hard to resist.

Heath reminded himself to stay in business mode. “I’d like to help you in any way I can.”

“But you’re not going to, right?” Claire twisted her lips as the phone rang, then reached over and picked it up. “Red Sage Guest Ranch, Claire Olander speaking…Your parents and their friends stayed at the ranch last summer? I’m sorry. I don’t remember, but we were…I don’t normally rent to anyone under twenty-one. I see.” She paused. “You understand it’s a dry county and we don’t allow drinking on the ranch?”

Heath cleaned his plate as the phone conversation continued. Claire gestured for him to help himself to more. She grabbed a piece of paper and pen and began jotting down names and numbers.

“Right now, we have seven cabins available. Three are two bedroom, with a sofa bed in the living room, so they can sleep a maximum of six adults. If you want to do that, I’m going to have to charge you per adult. Tonight? Sure. I can have everything ready by seven-thirty. Cash is fine. Thank you. Yes. See you then.”

Heath lifted a brow. It was easy to see something good had happened, from the excited gleam in her eyes.

“We’ve got twenty-eight college kids checking in tonight,” she reported.

The number sounded good. The type of guest did not. “There goes the peace and quiet.”

Heath expected her to be insulted. Instead she laughed and went back to icing rolls. “You are old.”

Heath could not understand why she wasn’t concerned. “They’ll be up all night,” he predicted. Not to mention the damage to the property that might be done.

Claire regarded him confidently. “I don’t think so.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Then you’re naive.”

She continued to smile as if she’d won the million-dollar lottery. “Are we done calling names here?”