“No, no, no,” Max amplified, looking impatient with the interruption. “This is my brother’s baby.”
“Oh.” C.J. looked surprised. “I didn’t know Gino had a baby.”
They stared at her.
“You knew Gino?” Max demanded.
“Sure.” She smiled, looking pleased that the attention was back where—in her mind—it belonged. “I met him when he was here last year.”
Max looked incredulous. “Gino was here? What for?”
She shrugged. “Pretty much the same thing you’re here for,” she noted, giving him a sly look. “He wanted to buy the ranch.”
Max’s head went back. This was news to him. He and his brother had been close in many ways, including the family real estate development business they had taken over from their father and ran together. Why would Gino have come to Texas without telling him? It didn’t make a lot of sense. Unless he’d been as intent on doing something to make their mother happy as he was himself.
“You know that he recently died in a plane crash, don’t you?” he asked her, grimacing at the effort it took to talk casually about him when the pain was still so raw.
“Yes, I know, and I’m so sorry about that.” She nodded her sympathy and actually looked as though she meant it. “He seemed like a great guy. Though I didn’t care much for the woman he had with him.”
“Sheila?” Max frowned.
“Yes, I think that was her name.” C.J. made a face. “Shifty looking.” Then her face changed as though she’d just remembered something. “Actually, funny thing. I heard from her the other day. She was on my answering machine. I didn’t call her back. She said she was here in town, and I could tell she was going to be asking for money.”
“You were probably right. She’s been doing a lot of that lately.” Max was staring at her hard, as though he was seeing something new in her, something that gave him pause. “So Gino couldn’t talk you into selling,” he said softly.
“Of course not.” Her chin came up and her huge green eyes were glittering with resolve. “I’m not selling the ranch. Ever. It’s my heritage. It’s all I’ve got now that all my family is gone.”
Max’s dark eyes narrowed speculatively as he gazed at the woman, but the server arrived with the drinks before he could make a comment on what she’d said.
“We should go get ourselves a table, honey,” C.J. said to him, raising an eyebrow for emphasis.
He looked around as though surprised to find they weren’t where they belonged. Then he decided to do something about it. “There’s plenty of room at this table,” he said. “Let’s eat here.”
“What?” the other three cried, staring at him.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, looking from person to person. There was no sense of give to his attitude, and the others were the ones to back down. One by one, each reluctantly shook his or her head, as he looked at them.
“No. Of course not.”
“Well, then.” He shrugged and looked at the server. “I’ll have a Scotch, neat. And you?” He nodded toward C.J.
C.J. ordered, but Cari wasn’t listening any longer. This evening was turning out almost as surreal as the last one had been. If only Mara had left well enough alone in the first place, she would be home right now with some soft music playing and a nice novel in her hand. If only!
As they ordered their meals and the first course came, Randy and C.J. seemed to be doing all the talking. They were bantering back and forth about things they’d done the night before and what it was like to have been dumped by their respective blind dates. They’d started out using it as a way to tweak Cari and Max, but as things went along, they seemed to be wrapped up in their own little joke, leaving the other two behind.
Not that she cared. Her attention was full of the man beside her and didn’t have much room left for the other two at the table. Max was quiet, almost morose, as though he were pondering life and all its unpleasant pitfalls and annoying blind alleys, and feeling glum about the prospects for happiness in general.
And Cari felt some sympathy for that point of view. She was wondering how she could have chosen the right path at her mythical fork in the road and yet have wound up on the wrong leg of the journey, anyway. Surely there had to be a shortcut to sanity somewhere. She had to get back where she belonged. But every minute she spent in the company of this man only made things worse. Just sitting here in his presence seemed to solidify the extraordinary attraction she felt for him. There was no getting around it—he was hot!
And that was bad. Sexual attraction was an illusion that clouded the mind and made you do stupid things. She had to guard against it. Experience suggested she was susceptible to the influence of strong men, and she had to fight the temptation to succumb. It wasn’t easy.
Every time his gaze accidentally met hers, every time his hand brushed her arm, every time he spoke and his voice seemed to resonate in her soul, all she could think about was the way that full, luscious mouth had felt on hers the night before. This was making her nervous. It took all her control to keep from shaking like a leaf.
At one point, she almost knocked over her wineglass and Max reached out to steady it for her, leaning in close to do it. His crisp, clean scent filled her head, and the sense of his pure masculinity swept over her like a tantalizing breeze.
“Stop it,” she thought to herself, feeling a bit desperate. “Just stop doing that.”
“Stop what?” he murmured as he drew back, looking at her in that heavy-lidded way that caught at the breath in her throat. “I’m not doing anything.”
She stared at him, aghast. She’d only thought the words, surely. How could he have heard her? Had she actually said them aloud—or was she going crazy?
Okay, the votes were in. She was going crazy. Here she was, sitting beside a man who could never be for her, but could ruin her for all the other men in the world if she didn’t watch her step. And what was she doing? Gulping down wine like it was high noon in the Gobi Desert.
Smart, Cari, my dear. Very smart.
Ooops. She looked up quickly, wondering if she’d said that aloud, too. But no one was paying any attention to her. What a relief. Putting her head down, she began to eat automatically. If she cleaned her plate, maybe she would be allowed to go home to that book.
Max was pushing the food around on his own plate. Eating was the last thing he felt like doing right now. His usual calm sense of confidence seemed to be fraying a bit around the edges tonight. Things weren’t going his way. In the first place he was disturbed by C.J.’s attitude. Her bony little feet seemed to be encased in concrete, where holding on to the ranch was concerned. He could tell she thought she was going to scam him. She was just as set on her path as he was on his. He hated to think what that might mean for his long-term prospects of success.
But most of all, he was worried about the baby. What did he know from babies? He was desperately determined to do right by this one, but doubts kept nagging at him. He looked at his watch, wondering how soon he would be able to bid C.J. adieu so he could go back and make sure Mrs. Turner hadn’t fallen asleep in the comfortable chair, leaving Jamie to cry his little heart out.
He looked at Cari, wishing she’d agreed to let him hire her for the job. Instinctively he knew he could trust her with the baby. He’d already seen her in action on that score.
She was acting very jumpy at the moment. Every time he caught her eye, she looked away quickly, as though she was afraid he’d think she liked him or something. Hell, he didn’t like anybody. He had a couple of things to accomplish and “liking” had nothing to do with either thing.
Still, he had to admit he