Honorable Rancher. Barbara Daille White

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      Of course, with the way she felt about that, he couldn’t tell her outright. He raised his hand, waving with the clipboard he held. “I need to take a few measurements.”

      “What for?”

      Her question took him aback—until he saw the small indentation between her brows. After all these years, he could read her every expression. The tiny frown meant something worried her. Keeping his tone level, he said, “I’m thinking about putting down new tile in here.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with the floor.”

      “An upgrade might be nice, don’t you think?”

      She shrugged. “If you want the truth, I think it’s fine the way it is.”

      Why had he bothered to ask? “Thanks for the input.” As nicely as he could, he added, “Think I’ll go with the new tile. Might look good to your customers.”

      She sighed. “We don’t have any clients, Ben.”

      He stilled. That sentence told him what had caused the worry line between her brows. Hearing it took the irritation right out of him. The sudden wry smile she sent his way made his pulse jump.

      “You know, if Caleb hadn’t bought that ranch,” she added, “I’d be up Sidewinder Creek without a paddle.”

      “We’ve done that once before, haven’t we?”

      She laughed. “Yes, I guess we have.”

      Their eyes met. For a moment the shared memory from their grade-school days brought them close again.

      “And,” she continued, “you’d think I would learn from my mistakes.”

      She meant more than that day long ago. “Well,” he said, unwilling to go where that would lead, “the thought of getting caught right now can’t be so alarming, considering the creek’s about a foot and a half deep from the drought.”

      “You know what I mean.”

      “Then all the more reason to try to lure customers for you.”

      She stared at him. The close moment ended as abruptly as if she had slammed the office door between them. “Thanks,” she said finally. “But I can manage.”

      “How?” he asked, gripping the clipboard. “You’re not expecting another Caleb Cantrell to just happen along, are you?”

      “Maybe. A friend of his is flying in next week to look at property. But—”

      “Yeah, Caleb mentioned that.”

      “—my business isn’t your worry.”

      “Fair enough.” No, it wasn’t fair at all. Her words stung, and he fought to shrug off his frustration. “This office is my concern, though. So is the entire building. And if I see improvements needing to be done, I’ll make ’em.”

      “Fine. As long as you’re aware I’m not obligated to pay you anything more than the rent we decided on. And that was no gentleman’s agreement we made.”

      “Couldn’t have been, since I’m no gentleman.” He gave a rueful smile. “Neither were you, last time I looked.”

      No matter the chilly tone she’d forced earlier, no matter the blank expression on her face now, he could start a campfire with the tension sparking between them. He could start something more.

      Give them time alone again—

      “We have a lease,” she said, her voice shaky. “Signed and sealed on the dotted line.”

      “I’m not arguing that.”

      “Good.” She rose, marched across the office and flipped the hanging sign on the front door. From the outside, it would now display Closed.

      She must have read his mind.

      “Well, then,” she said, “as there’s nothing else to discuss, I’ll leave you to get your measuring done.”

      Disappointment jolted him. “No need for you to go.”

      “Oh, but there is. I’ve got customers to lure in, and all that. Please lock up on your way out.” Clearly all too eager to get away, she went through the door and closed it behind her even more quickly than Kayla had done.

      He slapped the clipboard against his palm and shook his head. What the hell had he been thinking, wanting to get her alone? Hadn’t that led to enough trouble?

      So much for his plan of working around here—every time he would come in to do something, she’d just take off again. He couldn’t ask her to stay at her desk, anyway, when her job required her to keep on the move. But he wasn’t beaten yet.

      She didn’t know what a mistake she’d made by walking out on him. By forcing his hand. By making him twice as determined to find a way to make things easier for her.

      He smiled, turning another idea over in his mind, one he liked much better than hoping to corner her in her office.

      An idea he’d stake his ranch on she wouldn’t like at all.

      * * *

      “I DIDN’T DO IT, MAMA!” P.J. called the minute she walked in the door late that afternoon.

      Now what?

      After Ben had invaded her office, seeming to take up all the oxygen in the room, she’d found it hard to breathe. Needing to go somewhere—anywhere—to escape, she’d spent a long morning researching at the local library. Then she’d spent an even longer afternoon back at her desk, searching for listings, hoping to find something to tempt Caleb’s friend next week. Yet somehow, as she worked, she could still see Ben in the room.

      Coming home to P.J.’s vehement denial gave her an instant diversion. Chances were, he had done whatever it was. She just hoped it wasn’t something too serious.

      “Didn’t do what, P.J.?” she asked.

      Instead of answering, he took her by the hand and led her to the downstairs bathroom.

      Water trickled from beneath the vanity. Puddles saturated the tiles. The loose edges of a half-dozen vinyl squares had already started to curl. She groaned. “P.J., where’s Anne?”

      Dana couldn’t ask for a better babysitter. She willingly picked up P.J. after kindergarten and nine-month-old Stacey from day care. And she was always available in the evening when Dana had to show properties to her clients.

      When she had clients.

      Best of all, Anne loved the kids. And that mattered most.

      “She’s in the backyard with Stacey,” P.J. said.

      Chances were almost guaranteed that Clarice, her elderly next-door neighbor, would have her eye on the yard, too. “You go out there with them, please, while Mama cleans up this mess.”

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