He gestured for her to open the glass storm door that still stood between them. With a sigh, she flipped the lock and pushed it open a crack. He took the handle and pulled it the rest of the way until it caught and held wide.
“Mary Hofstetter?” He had a voice to match his looks. Deep and manly. Smooth as melted butterscotch.
She drew her shoulders back and forced a smile. “Yes?”
“I’m Gabe. Gabe Bravo.” Well. Darned if they hadn’t sent a real Bravo this time. He took out a card and handed it over.
Without giving it so much as a glance, she stuck the card in the back pocket of her jeans and got right down to the business of getting rid of him. “I’d invite you in, but I’ve got work that won’t wait. And there’s really no point in us talking, anyway. I’ll only be telling you what I’ve told the others you sent. I don’t care what the offer is, I’m not selling. So you have a nice day.” She granted him a nod, parsed out a tight smile and started to shut the door.
“Mary.” He spoke softly, but with clear command. His tone made her hesitate with the door half-closed. Sky-blue eyes reproached her—and somehow managed to gleam with wry humor at the same time. “You haven’t even heard what I’ve come to say.”
“I’ve heard enough from those other men you sent.”
“But since then, we’ve rethought the offer. There’s more now.”
“Doesn’t make a bit of difference.”
He put on a hurt look. “How can you say that?”
Mary looked at him straight on. “Easily.”
“You’re making a big mistake. You don’t know yet what we’re willing to do to come to a satisfying solution to this problem.”
“But, Gabe, I don’t need to know. For me, there is no problem. I’m already satisfied.”
“Come on.” He wrapped his hand around the door frame, a supremely casual move. “Let me surprise you.” His eyes were alight with humor, as if he dared her to shut the door now—and crush his tanned fingers with their buffed-smooth nails. “Please.”
She stared into those gorgeous eyes and found herself thinking that maybe a surprise wouldn’t be half-bad—and then she blinked and shook her head. “Seriously. I’ve already decided. I don’t want to sell. Now, I really do have to—”
“You’ll never be sure unless you hear me out.” He slanted her a sideways look, mouth curved in a hint of a smile, as if they shared a secret, just the two of them.
She knew the guy was working her, knew she should simply say “no thank you,” ask him to move his hand and shut the door the rest of the way. But she didn’t. Nervously, she guided a few stray strands of hair away from her eyes, tucking them behind her ear. “No, really. I’m sorry you drove out here for nothing. But I just.. .don’t have time right now.”
He refused to give up. “I promise you,” he coaxed. “It won’t take long. Don’t make me go back to my board of directors without being sure I’ve done all I can to change your mind.” Another smile, a hopeful one.
Mary couldn’t stop herself from smiling in return. What was it about him? She’d allowed the first guy they’d sent into the house. It had seemed only right to hear the offer before giving her answer. Once was enough, though. She hadn’t let the other two past her front door.
But this guy…well, he did have a way about him. All smooth and sociable. Too good-looking to be real, much too slick—and yet somehow, he still managed to come across as down-to-earth. As if the two of them were longtime friends and he was just stopping by to see how she was getting along.
“I could make a pot of coffee, I guess…” The words came out almost of their own accord at the same time as she found herself stepping backward, opening the door wide.
“Mary.” He granted her another of those I’m-your-bestfriend smiles. “I think you must have read my mind.”
Chapter Two
Gabe followed the Hofstetter widow through her living room, taking it all in—the worn, mismatched furniture, the scuffed hardwood floor, the scraggly-looking mutt sleeping in the corner, the cluttered desk and ancient PC. And the widow herself, in baggy jeans, red Keds and a white shirt shaped like a tent that billowed out over the giant bulge of her belly.
The floor plan was a simple one. An alcove near the front door held a narrow stairway and a half bath. The living room opened onto the single dining area, with a small U-shaped kitchen to the right of a square table. As he reached the table, he saw that a door opposite the kitchen led into a shadowed bedroom. He could see a rocking chair with a red bag hooked over the backrest, a pine night table and a section of a bed with a pine headboard.
“Have a seat.” She gestured at the table as she turned to the kitchen nook.
Gabe took the straight-back chair she offered and watched her as she loaded up a coffee filter with grounds from a can and filled the reservoir with tap water. Her giant stomach pressed the tiled counter as she worked. And her brown hair needed a cut. She had it tied back in a sloppy ponytail from which limp strands escaped along her nape and around her face.
Once she had the coffeemaker going, she lumbered on over and took the chair opposite him, lowering herself into it with a soft grunt of effort. “All right,” she told him once she was seated. “Coffee’ll be ready in a minute.”
“Thanks, Mary.” He made his voice sincere and respectful, with just the right easy touch of warmth. Gabe was a master at reading people, at gauging how they saw themselves and how they wanted to be treated. It was part of his job as the family lawyer and so-called “fixer,” the one they sent in when things weren’t going as planned. Most women, whatever their age or marital status, liked a little harmless flirting from a man. They liked to be noticed and appreciated.
Not this woman. She preferred her interactions simple and direct and she didn’t flirt with strangers. Gabe had known that at the door, the moment he gazed into those big brown eyes with the weary dark circles beneath them.
“You might as well go ahead and…” She stopped in mid-sentence. Wincing, she laid her hand on the side of her giant stomach.
Alarm had him sitting up straighter. “What is it, Mary?” Was she going to drop the kid right there at the table? “Is something wrong?”
She let out a long breath and patted the air between them with her palm. “No. It’s fine. It’s nothing. A cramp. Please. Can we get on with this?”
“Absolutely.” He preferred to start out with at least a few minutes of conversation, to establish a better tone—less dry and rushed, more casual. And friendly. Most people found it hard to say no to a friend. But she wanted him to move it along. So he pretended to do that. He got out his laptop. “This’ll just take a minute…” He aimed the back of the screen her way and punched a few keys, to make it look like he was setting things up.
She said, sounding really tired, “You know, you can stall all you want to, trying to figure out the most effective way to come at me, but it won’t do you any good.” She had leaned back in the chair and rested her hand on the swell of her stomach. Her eyes were closed and she spoke with the drowsy voice of someone seriously in need of a long nap. “I meant what I said to you at the door. And what I said to those three other guys you sent before. It makes no difference how much you offer me, I will never sell the Lazy H.”
Never say never, Mary. “Why not?”
She opened her eyes and frowned at him. “It doesn’t matter why not—except to me.”
He studied