Was it too late to change her mind, say she didn’t want a private conversation in a room so vividly marked by his masculinity?
A few pictures dominated the walls, mostly of racehorses he’d raised. Several framed photos sat on his desk, the backs toward her. She’d learned that pictures revealed a lot about their owners. What story did Zach’s tell? That he cherished his family, a girlfriend, or a wife?
She hadn’t noticed a ring on his hand, but having grown up in a rural community, the absence didn’t seem remarkable. A lot of men refused to wear rings in case they got caught in farm equipment.
“Ms. Morrison?” he prompted.
Cassie slipped into the chair, then realized it hadn’t been designed for comfort. The leather depths swallowed her whole. Sitting there in front of him, she felt small and defenseless, just the way, she imagined, he wanted her to feel.
But she wasn’t defenseless, nor was she small. Stiffening her spine, she resolved to prove that to him, along with the fact she was right about her sister and he was wrong about his brother. Calling on fortitude, she scooted to the edge of the seat and perched there.
He’d obviously found a comfortable position, leaning back with one ankle perched atop the opposite knee. He waited silently, studying her intently. His hands were steepled, his fingers resting near his mouth. He looked every inch an enemy...her enemy.
This definitely wasn’t the way she’d hoped the meeting would go. She’d dreamed of Billy being welcomed like a long-lost relative, brought into the protective fold of familial relationships. She and Billy had made the long, hot trek from Nebraska to Wyoming, and she’d kept that vision clearly in mind the whole way. Margaret had been all Cassie could hope for. But Zach...he was a law unto himself.
Closing her eyes for a second, she offered a silent thanks that Margaret had answered the door rather than him. If it had been Zach who’d turned the handle, Cassie knew she would have been tossed on her rear, the threat of a lawsuit nipping at her resolve.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find the same expression of infinite patience on his face. She easily imagined him in a tough negotiation to buy land or horses. He would never flinch, she knew. He’d remain calm until the deal was cut to his advantage.
“Mr. Hart, I understand, and more, I respect your need for caution.”
He inclined his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. The unruly hair made him seem less perfect, not vulnerable, but human. She wondered if looks truly were deceiving.
Judiciously she chose her next words. “Your mother mentioned you have reason to distrust women.”
“Did she?” He forced his shoulders back a fraction of an inch, farther into the soft and supple leather. “And what else did my mother share while you two were enjoying a cozy chat?”
“That’s all she told me,” Cassandra assured him, recognizing she’d already said too much. In the oppressive quiet, she twisted her hands in her lap, then abruptly stopped fidgeting when she realized he’d neatly noted her every movement.
She promised herself she’d push on, even though she realized he wouldn’t provide anything but a hindrance. And the sooner this was all over, the better.
She hated disagreements of any kind and would have preferred to spend her summer vacation at home, tutoring the kids who counted on her during the summer. Instead, she was in a man’s office who at best distrusted her, at worst thought she wanted a piece of his heritage. But the things she’d been through left her no choice. She was Billy’s only hope. She wouldn’t forget that. “I’m not the woman who hurt you. I’m not out to get you or your family.”
His brow arched, a dark motion of skepticism.
“I’ll prove it,” she said rashly, wondering how she’d ever keep her promise. “Let’s work together.” Leaning forward, she met his gaze. Right now, his blue eyes were frosted over, reminding her of clouds gathering across the sky. “We both want the same thing.”
“Do we, Ms. Morrison?” He emphasized the Ms., as if the title were worthy of nothing but derision.
Her sense of justice prickled.
“I assume it’s not Mrs. or Miss?”
She preferred to be addressed by her first name, and her students called her Miss Cassie. Still, she didn’t want Zach to have any ammunition to encourage intimacy. Intimacy with Zachary Hart was the last thing she wanted, especially since her long-neglected feminine instincts had already started cataloging him as a handsome man.
But handsome didn’t mean anything. Good looks didn’t disguise a deceptive soul, as Steven, her ex-fiancé, had painfully taught her. Tamping down the ache that always accompanied the thought of the man she’d nearly married, she reached out toward Zach, hoping against hope that he’d give her a chance. “I’ll ask for nothing, make no demands, until you find your brother.”
Zach tapped his index fingers together.
“Maybe Chad doesn’t even know about the baby,” she offered.
“Maybe your sister doesn’t know who the father really is,” he countered.
As if slapped, she recoiled. After everything she’d been through, the knot she’d made at the end of the rope in a desperate attempt to hold on, this was too much. “She knew all right.”
Raw determination seized her and she leaped to her feet, smacking her hands on the wooden desk and leaning toward him. She’d been willing to give his family the benefit of the doubt, making the assumption that Chad hadn’t abandoned Jeanie. But Cassie was rapidly approaching her tolerance level with arrogant males—Zach Hart topping the list. “I’ve had enough of your insinuations about my sister’s character when it’s your brother we’re discussing.”
Zach stood then and braced his palms on top of the desk, bringing them face-to-face. “Are you implying my brother is a bad person?” His words were whisper soft and delivered with the stinging intensity of electricity slashing the sky.
. Civility had just been a front, she realized. She forced herself to breathe, but couldn’t take in more than a quick gasp. Carefully she considered her next move. Margaret’s feelings notwithstanding, Zach wanted her out of his life. But Cassie couldn’t, wouldn’t, give him the chance to get rid of her and deny Billy the chance to know his father. “I’m not making any accusations, Mr. Hart,” she said, fighting for control. “I don’t personally know your younger brother.”
“Then?”
He had leaned so close she inhaled the scent of undisguised resolve. A thick shadow shaded his face, not a polite day’s growth, but more the beginnings of a beard. His hunter green Western shirt had lost its starch, if it had ever seen any. The material conformed to the breadth of his shoulders and tapered into faded gray jeans. The top two buttons of his shirt hung open and for a horrifying moment, she wondered what lay beneath.
The reckless thoughts threw off her concentration, and she regretted her words the moment she said them. “I’m wondering if any of the Hart men are willing to face their obligations.”
Fury blazed. She saw it in his eyes. She realized her mistake too late.
Before her muddled senses formed an apology, he’d rounded the desk and grabbed her shoulders.
“For my mother’s sake, I was attempting to be a gentleman.”
His fingers bit into her flesh, searing her with his heat. “Your accusation nullified that need.”
She inhaled sharply, vainly fighting fear to find solid ground
“I promise you, lady,” he said, words dangerously clipped and as cold as his icy gaze, “there hasn’t been a Hart yet who’s walked away from responsibility.