Big-city Bachelor. Ingrid Weaver

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      Oh, Lord, he must think she was on the downhill side of tipsy. She wasn’t even close to the edge, empty stomach or not. Compared to Bobby’s homemade cordial that could clear sinuses and blister paint, this stuff was cream soda. If her faculties were impaired at all, it was from the effects of Alex’s presence, not the wine—the man was too appealing to be legal.

      “Is there anything else you’d like, Lizzie?”

      Sure, you can strip to the waist and sling some hay bales. “Do you ever do any modeling?” she asked impulsively.

      “Excuse me?”

      “You know, posing for any of the advertisements the company does.”

      He looked startled. “No, we use an outside agency. Why?”

      “Oh, I was just wondering. Considering the way you…” She stopped herself before she could blurt something out about the way he looked. “Um, I thought it might cut costs.”

      “That particular cost-cutting method hasn’t been necessary so far.”

      “Oh. That’s good. I mean, I’m glad Whitmore and Hamill is doing all right.”

      “With each campaign we try to find individuals who would match our needs and the client’s expectations. My job consists of coordinating the people who work for me, making sure things run smoothly—”

      “Us,” she interrupted.

      He lifted an eyebrow.

      “Who work for us,” she said, blushing at her own audacity. “I haven’t sold out yet.”

      A muscle twitched in his cheek. He pressed the napkin more firmly against the puddle of wine. “Running a company doesn’t suit everyone, Lizzie. Your uncle found it much too restricting. That’s likely why he gradually withdrew from the day-to-day business over the past few years.”

      She restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She’d lost count of the number of times Alex had stressed how her uncle had been eager to sell. As an angle of persuasion, it was starting to wear thin.

      Besides, the more she heard Alex talk about Roland, the more she suspected there were other reasons behind the imminent end of their partnership. Although Alex hadn’t openly criticized her uncle, obviously they hadn’t gotten along.

      But that didn’t mean she couldn’t get along with him, did it? She got along with everyone. After all, as Packenham Junction’s perpetual bridesmaid and baby-sitter, she had plenty of experience keeping other people happy. Sure, these New York types were different from the people back home, but under their three-piece suits they were still people, right?

      And she could readily imagine what was under Alex’s three-piece suit…

      “What’s going to happen to the company name if I sell you my shares?” she asked quickly.

      “The company name?”

      “Whitmore and Hamill. I’m the last Hamill, so if I’m gone, would you change the name?”

      He hesitated. “What would you like me to do?”

      “I’d like the name to stay the way it is.”

      “Well, it could prove confusing for our clients.”

      “As a tribute to my uncle.”

      “I see.”

      “Uncle Roland never married and he didn’t have any children to remember him. Maybe he wanted me to make sure there would at least be the company name for him to leave behind for posterity.”

      “All right. If that’s what you really want.”

      No, what I really want is to see you naked and sweaty and flexing—

      She bit her lip. She really had to stop dwelling on that fantasy. Or at least get herself a different one. “Why are you so anxious to buy me out, Alex?”

      A flash of emotion briefly hardened the planes of his face. It was no more than a subtle tightening of his jaw, a twitch of his eyelids, and if she hadn’t been so conscious of his every nuance, she would have missed it. Yet it wasn’t the first time she’d seen a crack in the smooth image he projected. This had happened before, when he’d mentioned his divorce.

      “Alex?”

      He blinked, and the moment of emotion was gone. “I believe that the company would have a much more stable, secure future with one person controlling its direction.”

      “Didn’t you get along with my uncle?”

      “It’s no secret that we had our differences with respect to management decisions, but I’m thinking on more practical terms than that. During the past few years, the necessity of having to go through the motions of contacting Roland each time we needed to make a major decision caused delays and confusion. That will all be eliminated once you sell your shares to me.”

      “If I agree.”

      “Lizzie, you’d be so much more comfortable without the headache of this responsibility. You said you enjoy your work at the day care center, and you’re so close to your family. Think of all that you could do with the proceeds of the sale.”

      “I have been thinking about it.”

      “It’s really the best solution.”

      She toyed with her wineglass, tipping it forward to roll the base in arcs along the tablecloth. Was it really the best solution?

      Giving up her college scholarship in order to keep the farm running while her stepfather recovered from that tractor accident had been the best solution. So had opening up a day care center in the house on Myrtle Street when Bobby had destroyed her dreams. Twenty years from now, when the children she was caring for brought their own children to her, would she look back on this adventure and say, “If only?”

      Frowning, she set her glass beside the puddle of wine and looked at Alex. “I admit I don’t know all that much about the advertising business, and I might not have a fancy degree in economics, but like most people from the country, I know about horse trading. Or to be more exact, cow trading.”

      His eyebrows went up. Balling the napkin in his fist, he watched her in silence, his jaw tightening.

      She hesitated. “What is it?”

      “For a minute there you sounded just like your uncle.”

      Whatever he meant by that, she took it as a compliment. Encouraged, she pushed her plate away and leaned her forearms on the edge of the table. “The way I see it, inheriting my uncle’s shares is like being given a cow that I’m not sure how to deal with.”

      “I see. Please, go on.”

      “Well, apart from the drastic and permanent option of fixing beef stew, there are always other choices when it comes to getting rid of livestock.”

      “Such as?”

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