Emma cringed. She hated the customary funeral-home flowers her firm had sent. They were cold and impersonal. She’d mailed Dylan a hand-written card as well, but he didn’t bother to mention it. Then again, why would he? Her visit wasn’t to relay condolences in person. It was business. Business she needed to settle before her baby was born. She glanced up at him. His dark, well-worn cowboy hat shielded his eyes more than she’d have preferred. It made reading him difficult, which she assumed was intentional.
“I thought if we could talk—”
“You’d what? Change my mind? I’m not selling the ranch.” He shrugged out of his coat as he strode past her, revealing faded snug Wranglers that fit him better than any pair of jeans had a right to. Inwardly, she groaned, relieved when he walked behind the lodge’s rustic cedar-log front desk.
“You’re all set, Ms. Sheridan.” The check-in clerk slid her room key across the marred wood surface. An actual key. Her plans for the ranch included multiple guest-service agents and the latest digital room-entry technology. A guest’s Bluetooth-enabled smartphone would become their room key via a downloadable app. “I’ll have someone bring up your bags. Please help yourself to the complimentary snack bar in the dining room.”
“Why are you staying here?” Dylan tilted back his hat, revealing an errant lock of chestnut-brown hair. There was no mistaking his scowl now. “My decision isn’t up for debate.”
“You never heard my final proposal. At least hear me out.” Emma shifted uncomfortably in her too-tight rubber duck boots. The shoes were far from fashionable, but they were snow-friendly and easy to slip on. At least, they had been before she boarded her red-eye flight from Chicago to Saddle Ridge in northwestern Montana. Now she’d need a crowbar to pry them off. “Besides, Jax told me he hadn’t booked any reservations after December in anticipation of closing this deal on January 2. It doesn’t look like people are waiting in line for you to reopen, so what’s the harm in discussing it?” A sharp internal kick to her ribs caused Emma to inhale. Her daughter had been super active today and the nerve-racking drive in the snow from the airport hadn’t helped matters any. She had read that her unborn baby could sense her emotions and today definitely confirmed it. The doctor had told her it was safe to make the trip, but he had also warned it would be her last until after the baby was born. “I have to sit down.”
As much as she wanted—correction, needed—to discuss the agreement Jax had made to sell the guest ranch, her feet had reached their limit. She tottered toward the lodge’s great room. At thirty-two weeks pregnant, she envied the women who radiated in the pre-baby hormonal glow and managed to survive the entire nine months in a blissfully beautiful state of impending motherhood. She’d trade an ounce of their exuberance for her swollen feet and ankles, not to mention the other parts of her body that had seen better days.
“Are you all right?” Dylan’s closeness startled her again. “Would you like a bottle of water?” He guided her by the arm to the most comfortable-looking chair she’d ever seen. “You look terrible.”
Emma laughed, dropping her handbag at her feet. “You really shouldn’t say that to a woman.” She unfastened her jacket, not bothering to remove it as she sank into the burnished leather chair near the massive granite fireplace. Oh, this is heaven. She’d definitely need help to get up, but she’d worry about that later.
“You’re pregnant.” Dylan’s deep blue eyes grew large as he stared at her protruding belly. “I had no idea.”
Feeling exposed, Emma struggled to pull her parka closed over her fisherman-knit sweater. Of course, now she was sitting on half of the coat, which made the task impossible.
“Eight months.” Emma rested her hands protectively on her stomach. “It’s a girl, but I haven’t chosen a name yet. I’m surprised your uncle didn’t tell you.” Jax had instinctively known, even though she hadn’t begun to show when they’d spoken. He’d said her panicked smile gave it away. Well, that on top of the morning sickness and the constant heartburn she’d had during her visit.
Dylan shook his head. “My uncle may have been somewhat eccentric and unfiltered at times, but he wasn’t a gossiping man. Not that your pregnancy is gossip.”
That wasn’t altogether true. The fact that her boyfriend of six months had ditched her the second he found out she was pregnant had made for great water-cooler gossip around the office. Especially since her job as a commercial real estate analyst hinged on her ability to fly anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice. That ended with this trip.
She traveled as many as twenty days a month and while her job paid well, it didn’t afford her the luxury of a nanny to accompany her and care for her baby while she was scouting resort locations or meeting with clients and investors. Once her daughter was born, she would be unable to meet the travel requirements her job demanded. She had two options: accept a lesser position with less pay or get the acquisitions director promotion she’d been vying for and work solely from their Chicago corporate offices. Acquiring the Silver Bells Ranch almost guaranteed that promotion. She refused to give up now.
“Water would be great. Thank you.” His exit gave her a chance to compose herself a little better and get out of her suffocating coat. The full-length parka was overkill for mid-December, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Plus, wearing it beat trying to stuff it into another piece of luggage. By the time she freed herself from its confines, Dylan had returned and she was perspiring profusely.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He handed her the bottle.
Emma twisted the cap off and took a long swallow. “I’m fine, thank you. It’s just the warmth of the fireplace and this monstrosity of a coat.”
Standing in front of her silhouetted by the midmorning sun filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Dylan epitomized tall, dark and sexy.
“Good. Then go home. I’m not selling.”
And obstinate to the core. Emma had already decided she liked Dylan much better when he didn’t speak. Unfortunately, getting him to sell his ranch was why she was there. She refused to leave until he did.
* * *
DYLAN HADN’T EVEN grieved yet for the man he had loved as a father. Jax had been in perfect health, which made his sudden heart attack even more shocking. He had wanted to hold on to the ranch and bring in a new business partner, but no one wanted to invest in an aging ranch. Not even his own brothers. A part of him wondered if the bickering he and Jax had done over the sale had contributed to his uncle’s death. Now Silver Bells was his and he had to prove to himself that he’d been right to keep it all along.
Without steady revenue, he had to rely on what was left of his savings to float the business. Jax had stopped taking reservations months ago and Emma was right...no one was beating down their door to get in. They hadn’t been for more than a year—and the instant the ranch had taken a downturn, she had swooped in and offered to buy it.
Emma bordered between a vixen and a cherub. Her intelligence coupled with her persistence had hooked Jax from their first meeting. At five and a half feet, she wasn’t overly tall or bombshell curvaceous. Instead, the brunette had a wicked grin that usually ended in a friendly wink. She exuded charm along with a street-savvy wit that left those around her intoxicated by her performance. And it was a performance designed to lull potential sellers into a euphoric sense of everything would be wonderful once they closed the deal. She was a brilliant saleswoman and Dylan understood why she was so successful, but he could also see right through her.
Today, her perfectly manicured facade had a crack in it. But that crack made her appear more natural and she wore it well, despite her obvious discomfort. She winced for the second time since her arrival. The ranch should be the least of her concerns, and she had to be the least of his. He didn’t have the patience to deal with a pushy pregnant woman, let alone one who should be relaxing at home choosing baby names.
“Isn’t