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“The office is just down the hall and to your...”
“I know where it is,” she snapped, cutting him off. To have a rank stranger try to direct her through a house that held the happiest memories of her childhood irritated her as little else could.
Her heart ached with unshed tears when she walked into her grandfather’s office. How could everything look the same and yet be entirely different from the last time she was here?
“Please have a seat, Ms....”
“My name is Taylor Scott,” she answered automatically.
Nodding, Donaldson motioned toward one of the two big leather armchairs in front of the desk. “Would you like something to drink, Taylor?”
The sound of his deep baritone saying her name caused an interesting little flutter in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium and lowered herself onto the chair. “N-no, thank you.”
He placed his hat on the credenza, then walked around the desk to sit in the high-backed chair. “What is it that you wanted to discuss with me?”
Maybe if she waited to reveal her identity she could get him to incriminate himself as having cheated her grandfather. “I’d like to know what you intend to do with your interest in the Lucky Ace,” she stated, meeting his dark brown gaze head on.
She wasn’t surprised when his expression remained unreadable. After all, he was a professional poker player and well practiced at keeping his emotions concealed.
“I’m not in the habit of discussing something of this nature with a stranger,” he said as if choosing his words carefully.
“I understand you won half of the ranch from Ben Cunningham.” When he nodded, she went on. “I’m here to make you an offer for your share.”
He slowly shook his head. “It’s not for sale.”
“Are you sure, Donaldson? The offer I’m willing to make is quite generous.”
“Please, call me Lane,” he said, giving her a smile that caused her heart to skip a beat. Several of Hollywood’s leading men were among her clients. They’d spent thousands of dollars on dental and cosmetic surgery and still couldn’t come close to having his perfect smile.
Giving herself a mental shake, she decided to focus on the fact that he was a swindler and ignore his good looks, as well as his request to call him by his first name. That was more personal than she cared to get with the man.
“I’m prepared to pay you well above market value if you can vacate the property within a week,” she pressed.
“I’m quite happy here, and even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t consider selling my share of the Lucky Ace without consulting my partner first, and he’s currently in California.” He silently stared at her, as if analyzing the situation, before he spoke again. “Why do you think you want my share of the ranch?”
“I don’t think I want the ranch. I know I want it,” she said impatiently.
“Why?” he demanded. She could tell she was getting to him when he sat forward, showing the first signs that he was becoming irritated with the situation.
Confident that she was gaining the upper hand, she couldn’t help but smile. “Before we get into that, could I ask you a couple of questions, Donaldson?”
He stared at her for a moment before he answered. “You can ask, but I’m not guaranteeing that I’ll give you the answers you want to hear.”
“How did you manage to get Ben Cunningham to wager any part of this ranch in that poker game last fall?” she queried.
“Why do you think it was my idea that he use the Lucky Ace to cover his bet?” he asked, slowly leaning back in the desk chair.
“Are you saying he voluntarily put it up?” she shot back.
“Why do you think otherwise, Taylor?” he asked, sounding irritatingly calm.
She had heard that he was a licensed psychologist, and it seemed that the rumor was true. Instead of answers, he followed every one of her questions with one of his own—like any good therapist would do. Taylor decided right then and there that if he asked her how she felt about the situation, she was going to reach across the desk and bop him a good one.
“I happen to know that he wouldn’t have wagered the ranch unless he was certain he had the winning hand,” she stated flatly.
“So you know Mr. Cunningham?” he asked, his expression still as bland as dry toast.
“Yes, I know him quite well. But we’ll get to that later.” She was getting nowhere fast and it infuriated her no end that Donaldson remained calm and collected when she was filled with nothing but frustration and anger. She was ready for a verbal battle, but he wasn’t taking the bait. “What I’d like to know is why you’re living here in his house.”
“That’s none of your business, Ms. Scott.” Addressing her in a more formal way was the only outward indication he was losing patience.
“You’ve won several of the larger poker tournaments and I would think that with your wealth you would prefer something a bit more urban than a ranch house in the middle of nowhere,” she said, hoping he would give her an indication of why he had taken up residence in her grandfather’s home.
“Nice try, Taylor.” To her surprise, a slow smile curved his mouth. “Now, why don’t we start over and you tell me what you’ve been dancing around since we came in here?”
Deciding that he wasn’t going to divulge anything without her telling him who she was, she took a deep breath. “I’m Ben Cunningham’s granddaughter and I want to know how you got him to bet half of the ranch in that poker game, why you’re staying here and what it will take to get you to sell your interest and get off the Lucky Ace for good.”
“Since you’re here grilling me, I take it that Ben hasn’t supplied you with the answers to your questions?” he asked, raising one black eyebrow.
“No.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons for not telling you, and I’m not going to betray his trust.” He shook his head. “But I can tell you that he suggested I move into the house to watch over the place while he was in California visiting with you and your parents.”
“What about getting him to bet half of the ranch?” she demanded, not at all satisfied with his unwillingness to tell her what she wanted to know. “How did you manage that?”
“I had nothing to do with him putting up any part of the ranch. It was his idea and his alone,” Donaldson answered.
“I have a hard time believing that, Donaldson.” Unable to sit still any longer, Taylor rose to her feet to pace back and forth in front of the desk. “He bought this land sixty years ago with his first poker winnings. It was his pride and joy and when he and my grandmother married, they built this house and raised my mother here. In all that time, he never once considered risking any part of it. Why would he suddenly change his mind last fall?”
“You’ll have to ask Ben.” He smiled. “I haven’t heard from him in a couple of months. How is your grandfather? Is he enjoying his time in sunny California? Has he mentioned when he’ll be coming back to the ranch?”
Taylor stopped pacing and turned to face him. Her eyes burning with tears she refused to allow her nemesis to see, she took a deep, steadying breath. “Grandpa passed away about three weeks ago.”
Donaldson’s smile immediately disappeared. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Ben was a good man and the best poker player I’ve ever had the privilege to know. You have my deepest sympathy.”
“T-thank you,” she said, sinking into the armchair. Talking about her grandfather, knowing he was gone and that she had been powerless to stop the inevitable, was overwhelming.
“Here, drink this,” he said, handing her a glass tumbler as he lowered himself into the armchair beside her.
Lost in her misery, she hadn’t been aware that he’d risen from the chair behind the desk. “What is it?” she asked, looking at the clear liquid in the glass.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s just water.”
“Oh.”
“How did Ben die?” he asked softly.
“He had a massive heart attack,” she said woodenly. “He’d apparently known about his heart condition for quite some time, but didn’t tell anyone. When I learned about it, I insisted that he see the top cardiologist in Los Angeles. But it was too late. He went into cardiac arrest the day before he was scheduled for open-heart surgery.”
They sat in silence for some time before he commented. “I wonder why the poker federation failed to announce Ben’s passing last week at the tournament in Vegas?”
Finishing the glass of water, she placed the tumbler on the desk. “It wasn’t announced because they don’t know about it. He asked that his death be kept quiet until after his ashes were scattered here at the ranch.”
“Is that why you’re here now?” he asked. “To tell me you’re going to scatter Ben’s ashes?”
“No.” She determinedly met his questioning gaze. “I took care of his request yesterday evening at sunset.”
He looked doubtful. “If you were here yesterday, why didn’t I see you?”
“Because I know this place like the back of my hand,” she answered. “There’s a road two miles west of here that leads to the creek on the southern part of the ranch. Grandpa told me that if something happened to him he wanted his ashes released at sunset down by the creek where he asked my grandmother to marry him.” She stared at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “I’m sure you can understand that it was a private moment for me.”
“Of course,” he said quietly.
Suddenly feeling drained of energy, she hid a yawn behind her hand. “Now that you know about my grandfather’s death, there’s no reason not to answer my questions.” She gave him a pointed look. “Besides, I inherited the other half of the Lucky Ace Ranch and as the co-owner, that gives me the right to know everything. And the first thing I intend to find out is how you managed to swindle my grandfather.”
Two
Lane stared at Taylor for several long seconds as he worked to control his anger. He was still trying to come to terms with losing a good friend, as well as his partner in the ranch. The last thing he wanted was to be defending his integrity. But it appeared that was exactly what he was going to have to do.
“Before this goes any farther, let me set you straight, Ms. Scott,” he said, wondering how he could still find her attractive when he was angry enough to bite nails in two. “I have never been a cardsharp, nor will I ever be. I take my poker games very seriously and I can guarantee you that I don’t have to cheat to win. I pit my skill against other players’ and I’m good enough to be quite successful at it—just as your grandfather was.”
“But he had more years of experience than you are old,” she insisted. “How could you possibly beat him unless the game was rigged?”
“I know this is probably hard for you to believe, but your grandfather and I had a lot in common,” he stated. “We had a mutual respect for the game and for each other as worthy opponents. I’m sorry if you can’t accept that I had the skill to beat your grandfather, but I wouldn’t cheat at cards any more than Ben would have.”
Suddenly needing a drink, he rose to his feet, walked over to the credenza and poured himself a shot of bourbon. Downing the amber liquid in one gulp, he let the warmth spread throughout his chest before he turned to face her.
“The day I won an interest in this ranch, I had the better hand.” He shook his head. “We could have played another day and he might have come out the winner. That’s the game and a chance you take any time you sit down at a poker table.”
“I realize that there’s always a risk of losing,” she said, sounding a little less confident. She hid another yawn behind her delicate hand then continued, “But my grandfather was arguably the best poker player in modern history. He could tell at a glance what his odds of winning were and how much he could safely wager. He would have never bet half of the ranch if he hadn’t been certain he would win.”
“And because of his miscalculation that makes me guilty of cheating?” Lane demanded.
She yawned yet again. “He wouldn’t have risked—”
“I think we’ve adequately covered that already,” he interrupted. He took a deep breath in an effort to cool the fury burning in his gut. She wasn’t listening and he was tired of beating his head against a brick wall trying to convince her of his innocence. “Look, it’s past midnight and we’re getting nowhere. Let’s put this discussion on hold until tomorrow morning.”
She stared at him for a moment before she finally nodded and rose to her feet. “That would probably be best.”
“Where are you staying?” he asked. “I’ll drive you to your hotel.”
Looking suspicious, she asked, “Why?”
“You’re too tired to be behind the wheel of a car,” he stated flatly.
“I’m staying right here,” she said, her stubborn tone indicating that hell would freeze over before she budged on the issue. Resigned, he followed her out into the hall.
“I’m assuming that you have a bedroom you used when you visited your grandfather?”
“My room is the one with the lavender ruffled curtains and bedspread at the opposite end of the hall from the master suite,” she answered. She started toward the kitchen. “I’ll just get my overnight bag from the car.”
“Give me your keys and I’ll get it for you,” he said, holding out his hand.
Even though she had made him angry enough to want to forget his manners, he couldn’t ignore the code of conduct his foster father had taught him and his brothers about how a man was supposed to treat a woman. When a woman had something that needed to be carried, a man stepped forward and took care of it for her—no matter how small or lightweight the object was. No excuses.
“I can get it,” she insisted, taking a set of keys from the front pocket of her jeans.
He took them from her and tried to ignore the tingling sensation that streaked up his arm when he brushed her fingers with his. “You’re tired and it’s probably heavy,” he said through gritted teeth. “Go on upstairs and I’ll leave it outside your door.”
“It’s the blue backpack on the front passenger seat,” she called after him as he left the house. She said something else, but instead of turning back to ask what it was, he continued on to the little red sports car parked by his truck.
At the moment, it was better to put a little distance between them. If he didn’t, he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t lose his temper and tell her what he thought of her and her ridiculous accusations—or grab her and kiss her until they both forgot that she was a lady and he was trying to be a gentleman.
He stopped short. Where had that thought come from? He would just as soon cozy up to a pissed-off wildcat than to get up close and personal with Taylor Scott. She might be one of the hottest women he’d seen in all of his thirty-four years, but she represented the kind of trouble that a man just didn’t need.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he unlocked the Lexus and reached inside to get Taylor’s backpack. The light, clean scent of her perfume assailed his senses and reminded him of just how long it had been since he’d lost himself in the charms of a willing woman. The scent only added an unwelcome element to the level of his frustration and he cussed a blue streak when his lower body began to tighten. And it didn’t help matters one damned bit knowing she would be sleeping in the room directly across the hall from the one he had been using since moving to the ranch six months ago.
He clenched his teeth as another wave of heat surged through his body. How could he possibly feel this level of desire for a woman when she irritated the living hell out of him? For that matter, how had she managed to make him forget everything he’d learned in seven years of studying to become a psychologist?
He had known immediately that she was fishing for information and he’d successfully evaded answering her by turning the tables and asking questions of his own. He’d even found her interrogation mildly amusing. But what he couldn’t quite come to terms with was the fact that when she’d started making accusations, he had let her get to him.
Lane had played poker with men who made it a point of talking smack in an effort to throw him off his game, and not once had he ever let any of it affect him. For one thing, he recognized the insults as a psychological ploy and simply tuned the men out. And for another thing, they all had better sense than to cross the line and accuse him of cheating. But when Taylor made it clear that she thought he had swindled her grandfather out of his ranch, she had unknowingly touched on one of his hot buttons and he’d damned near gone off like a Roman candle in a Fourth of July fireworks display.
He was a psychologist specializing in human behavior. He had been schooled not only in how to be a patient and observant listener but also how to keep his emotions in check. The last thing a client wanted to see from his therapist during a session was a judgmental expression or outright shock when they revealed some of their darkest secrets. Those psychology tools had served him well over the years and he had used them quite successfully as a professional poker player to keep from alerting his opponents to the cards he had been dealt.
But when it came to Taylor, it was as if his skills didn’t even exist. All she had to do was look at him with those big green eyes of hers and his training seemed to go right out the window.
The first time he’d noticed his uncharacteristic reaction to her had been when she told him that she wanted the other half of the ranch. She’d looked him square in the eye and the passion and determination in her striking green gaze had sent a streak of heat straight to the region south of his belt buckle. He had even found himself wondering if she would be that passionate when he made love to her.
His body tightened to an almost painful state and he rattled off every curse word he could think of. He forcefully slammed the car door and locked it with the remote. As he walked back to the house, he glanced down at the small bag in his hand. She couldn’t have put much more than a few changes of clothes in it, indicating that she wouldn’t be staying more than a night or two. That suited him just fine.
The sooner she went back to California and left him alone, the better. Then maybe he could figure out what the hell had gotten into him and what he was going to do to get rid of it.
* * *
Well before dawn, Taylor rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. She hadn’t been able to sleep more than a couple of hours and those had been filled with fitful dreams of the tall, dark-haired man sleeping in the bedroom directly across the hall from hers.
Deciding she couldn’t stand another minute of tossing and turning, she sighed heavily, threw back the covers and sat up on the side of the bed. How was she going to get Donaldson to sell her his interest in the ranch and leave the Lucky Ace for good? And why on earth did she find him so darned attractive?
She still wasn’t entirely convinced that he hadn’t somehow managed to cheat her grandfather in that poker game. But Donaldson had presented a compelling argument for his innocence and even though she knew how good her grandfather was at the game, she was starting to have her doubts. After all, he was human and as much as she hated to admit it, he could very well have made a mistake when he mentally calculated his odds of winning that fateful hand.
But what disturbed her the most about Donaldson was her reaction to him. The moment he’d approached her at the party to introduce himself, she had caught her breath, and she wasn’t entirely certain she had breathed normally since. She had never experienced that kind of reaction to any of the men she’d dated in the past, let alone one she had just met and didn’t trust.
Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster she had been on for the past three weeks and unsettled by her reaction to the man across the hall, she decided to do the one thing that always helped her put things in perspective. After a quick shower, she was going to start cooking.
Twenty minutes later, Taylor tied her damp hair back in a ponytail as she walked into the spacious kitchen. After washing her hands and starting the coffeemaker, she prepared to get to work. Checking the pantry and refrigerator for available ingredients, she decided on what she would make for breakfast then reached into one of the cabinets for a set of mixing bowls.
“Do you mind if I get myself a cup of coffee?” a deep male voice asked from close behind her.
