“This is a desperate effort to talk to you. I haven’t been able to get past the secretaries and your attorneys.”
His curiosity returned. With an effort he stopped staring at her, focusing instead on who she was. For all he knew, she could be a threat, although at the moment, he would relish a physical struggle with her because he would like to touch her.
An intriguing scent tempted him.
“All right, you want to talk. We can sit here on the porch and have a discussion,” he said, motioning toward chairs. He was reluctant to invite her into his house. It crossed his mind that she might be armed. “First though, I’ll admit, I don’t know who you are.”
He received another flicker of amusement. “Caitlin Santerre.”
The name was a knife stab. As if ice water had poured over him, he cooled toward her while he stared at her, reconciling his memory of Caitlin Santerre with the beautiful woman standing before him.
“Son-of-a-gun,” he said beneath his breath, for once not hiding his reaction to a shock. “You grew up. What the hell do you want with me?”
“You actually don’t even know, do you?” she asked, anger creeping into her tone. “You own our land. I want to buy part of it back.”
“You get to the point. Yes, I own it. It’s my land since your brother sold it. I was surprised he was willing to sell it to me.”
“Will loves money more than maintaining an old family feud, remaining loyal to the family and keeping the home place. All Will wants is to take care of Will,” she said.
“I have to agree, but I’m biased. You should have told him to not sell,” Jake said, trying to remember the age difference. He had never paid attention to her as a child when he saw her in town. She had seemed years younger and he hadn’t given her a thought then or since.
“My brother and I aren’t close. We never have been.”
“That I can understand,” Jake said, a cynical note creeping into his voice when he thought about Will Santerre whom he despised. The litany ran through his thoughts—the first Benton to settle in Texas in the mid-1800s, killing the first Santerre who was trying to divert water. The retaliations followed, which included killing cattle, poisoning water. In the next generation a Santerre son burned the Benton house and barn. The feud continued until his father put Caitlin’s father in the hospital after a fistfight. Finally, his generation with the ultimate and most personal clash, made Jake feel the old hurts like a scar. He would always be certain Will Santerre had killed his older sister, Brittany. Will was tried and found not guilty. Will had sworn it was Brittany who caused the car crash, but Jake would never be convinced. His family was guilty of doing things to the Santerres, but his family had always felt justified. While Jake had hated it, Brittany had been in love with Will. Brittany had been Football Queen, Class President, beautiful, popular—Will loved the girls and went after her. Maybe out of both revenge and really wanting her. Maybe just because he had thought she would be a conquest that would make him look good. Jake could never believe anyone as selfish as Will could love another person. As far as he was concerned, Will loved himself more than anybody else. Jake looked at Caitlin. Her beauty now was tempered by the knowledge of her lineage.
The first huge drops of rain fell, slanting to hit along the edge of the porch. “This rain was a twenty-percent chance—most unlikely from the morning weather report. I’ll make this short,” she said.
“Let me call my foreman about your vehicle—what did you drive? “
She flashed a smile that made Jake forget his hostility again. Her white teeth were even and her smile was a warm invitation as if she were on the verge of sharing a delightful secret. “There’s no vehicle. And there’s no road,” she answered, jerking her head toward the trees. “I came from the west on horseback. He jumped your fence. You might want to tell your foreman I have a tethered horse. I would appreciate getting my horse out of the weather.”
“Ah, now I know why no one spotted you. I have men who drive the boundaries, but they can’t cover this big ranch all the time. The likelihood of anyone coming across the ranch from any direction other than the highway is minimal to nonexistent. I’m not here most of the time, keep a low profile when I am home, and it’s peaceful out here. I don’t have enemies—or at least not many,” he said, thinking of his former neighbors. Jake glanced at the trees again. “I’ll tell someone to bring your horse in so it’s sheltered.”
“Thanks.”
As Jake made his call, more drops fell. He put away his phone. “My foreman will put your horse in the stable closest to the house.”
“Thanks.”
“This may only be a fall shower. Let’s go inside where we can talk in more comfortable surroundings,” Jake suggested, intrigued by her in spite of his burning hatred of her half brother. “Since our grandfathers’ days, we haven’t had to worry much about trespassers.”
“I guess our fathers were less into tearing down fences and stealing livestock from each other than the generations before them. The feud between our families began with the first two men who settled here.”
“It may be less violent, but it hasn’t ever ended,” Jake said, thinking again of Will.
“Where is Will now?”
“He won’t ever be back. He’s bought a home in San Francisco and also owns a home in Paris. He’s into investments. Beyond that, I know little about him. We have virtually no contact.”
Knowing they were getting on a bad topic, Jake held the door for her. “This is a turn in the feud—you’re the first Santerre to be invited in.”
She barely looked at her surroundings as they walked down the wide hall. “So this is where you grew up.”
“Yes. The original part of this house is as old as the house where you grew up. I know your dad’s house was built later.”
“My dad’s house no longer exists,” she said sharply. “Your crew began demolition last week. It doesn’t take long to destroy a structure. Fortunately, Grandmother’s house is the one that dates back to the beginning.”
Holding back a retort, Jake directed her into a room. “Let’s sit in the study,” he said.
They entered one of Jake’s favorite places, spacious with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on two walls while the remaining walls were glass. French doors opened onto the wraparound porch and patio, which had been remodeled with an extended roof and comfortable living areas. Beyond the patio, steps led down to a pool with a waterfall, a cabana, chairs and chaise longues. Tropical plants added an appealing touch.
“Have a seat,” Jake said. He turned as she sat in a leather wingback chair. In a sweeping glance he took in her blue Western shirt that clung to lush curves and tucked into her snug jeans. Her belt circled a waist that was as small as he had guessed at his first glimpse. The little Santerre kid he had always ignored had turned into a stunning woman. He sat in another leather chair that faced her across a low mahogany table.
She crossed her long legs and he wondered how she would look in a dress. The image made his blood heat. She looked poised, comfortable, unlike someone desperate to get him to agree to something. She also looked desirable. Even though she was a Santerre, there was a red-hot chemistry about her that tempted him to forget who she was.
When he looked up from her legs, his eyes met hers and he was again ensnared. Attraction was tangible. She had to feel it because she held his gaze as invisible sparks heated him. He wanted to know her better. At the same time, the lifelong hatred of all Santerres coated the magnetism with bitterness. Caitlin was as forbidden as poison, yet he wanted to place his lips on her to taste and kiss.
Taking a deep breath he tore his gaze away