The Inherited Twins

“Right. Birthday wishes are secret,” Claire said.

“I want a birthday,” Henry declared.

“Your birthdays are coming up next week.”

Heidi perked up. “Do we get a party?”

“You do,” Claire said. “It’s going to be at the park and you can invite all your friends. It should be a lot of fun.”

“Yes!” Henry clapped his hands together.

Hearing a car rumbling up the drive, Claire opened the door and herded the kids out to the nine-passenger vehicle. She handed the present to the mom driving the car, for safekeeping, made sure the twins were both buckled in, then stood waving as the van disappeared again.

Heath came out to stand beside her. “The twins seem okay this morning,” he noted.

Remembering how much help he had been to her the night before, she turned to him with a wry smile. “That’s the way it is. One minute they’re confused and grieving, the next it’s like nothing ever happened.”

Heath searched her eyes. “I gather you have a harder time bouncing back?”

“Unfortunately, I understand the finality of our loss.” As an image of her late sister came to mind, Claire swallowed. She focused her attention on the horizon as she confessed, “I think the holidays are going to be tough.”

Sympathy radiated in his low voice. “Your first…”

She nodded. “Without Liz-Beth and Sven, yes.” She swallowed again, then knotted her hands into determined fists at her sides. “But we’ll get through it, because we still have a lot to be thankful for.” She paused, drew a bolstering breath. “Speaking of which, you ready to go over to the ranch office and talk about how we can make the numbers work?”

He nodded, all business once again. “Lead the way.”

HEATH SETTLED IN A CHAIR on the other side of Claire’s desk, aware this wasn’t an ordinary business meeting, any more than the kiss they’d shared the night before had been ordinary. What happened in the next few weeks would either make or break Claire’s dreams for the Red Sage, while simultaneously securing the twins’ inheritance.

Heath did not want to be in the position to make that kind of impact on her hopes for the future. But it was his job. And he always did his job.

Claire folded her hands together and consulted the handwritten notes in front of her. “You said the other day that as long as the business demonstrated the potential for growth, as long as the guest ranch could turn a small profit, you wouldn’t have to sell anything.”

Trying not to notice how pretty she looked in a dark-gold sweater and brown-and-gold paisley skirt, Heath nodded. “The problem is, according to the rates you’ve set for the rooms, that’s not going to happen, with the kind of occupancy you’ve got right now.”

She leaned back in her swivel chair. “We were at capacity for seven weeks this summer.”

Heath kept his eyes locked on hers. “And not even half occupied since September.”

A delicate flush highlighted her cheeks. “I put up a Web site, and that’s bringing in some business. But obviously I’ve got to do more, which is why I’ve written to every newspaper and magazine editor in the state and let them know we’re open for quiet R & R, family reunions, business retreats.”

“When did you do that?”

Resentment colored her tone. “I started sending out letters the end of August, the beginning of September, when things slowed down.”

A good move, but possibly not enough. “What’s the response been?” Heath asked.

The evasive look was back in her eyes. She started to rise. “Can I get you some coffee?”

He respected her too much to be anything less than forthright. He shook his head in answer to her question and said, “It’s not enough just to send out brochures.”

She sank back in her desk chair and rocked back and forth impatiently. “I’ve made phone calls, too.”

“Any results?”

She hedged. “All it would take is one good review in Southwestern Living magazine, or the travel section of a Houston or Dallas paper travel section, and I’d be fully booked in no time.”

“Even if you were to get good press right now, I’m afraid it might be too little too late.”

Claire massaged the back of her neck with both hands. “If we could just hang on until next spring, and be patient…”

Heath pretended not to notice the way her posture drew his attention to her curves. “Right now the ranch is operating anywhere from five hundred dollars a month in the black to five thousand dollars in the red.”

“I know.” Claire dropped her hands. A pleading note came into her voice. “But if you average those numbers over the nine months we’ve been open, I’m only short a thousand a month.”

He wished he could cut her a break. “What about the winter months coming up?” he inquired matter-of-factly. “Do you have bookings?”

Again she looked regretful. “Some.”

“How many?”

Claire sighed. “Not enough.”

Not nearly enough, he thought in disappointment, when she reluctantly showed him her list of reservations. “Is there any other way you can bring in money?”

She tilted her head and the subtle movement brought him the lavender scent of her perfume. “We had plans to turn the barn into a party facility, use it for wedding receptions and big parties, but Sven and Liz-Beth died before we could get started on that.”

It was a good idea. Unfortunately, it couldn’t happen fast enough. “You could charge for breakfast.”

Claire disagreed. “All the big hotel chains offer free breakfast with an overnight stay now. To stay competitive, I have to do that, too.”

Silence fell as they both stared at the numbers on the pages in front of them. “Is there any equipment you could sell—like a tractor or something—to temporarily add to the profits?”

“We liquefied everything we could when we were building the cottages. What little lawn we have mowed now, that isn’t xeriscaped or returned to the wild, is done by a rancher in the area.” Claire leaned forward, and Heath sensed it was all she could do not to grip his hands. “If I can get good press, more exposure, I can turn this around.”

Heath figured he could ask around at the bank, see if anyone at the other branches had any ideas, or was in a position to call in a favor. In the meantime, he would be straight with her. “You’ve got a little less than two weeks.”

Claire was unable to mask her disappointment. “And if I can’t manage to turn things around by then?” she asked warily.

He exhaled, hating to be the bearer of bad news to such a sweet woman. “Then we’re going to have to look at doing one of two things. Lease or sell at least part of the mineral rights to the ranch. Or sell off part—or all—of the twins’ share of the business.”

If he had to do either, Heath knew, she would end up resenting the heck out of him.

There’d be no more kisses.

No more confidences.

Not even the possibility of romance.

And that really stunk.

IT WAS NEARLY EIGHT in the evening by the time Heath left the bank, grabbed a bite to eat and got back to the Red Sage. As he pulled into the parking lot, real-estate broker Ginger Haedrick drew up beside him. They got out of their vehicles at the same time.

Ginger gestured toward the office, where lights were blazing. “What’s going on?”

Through the windows, Heath could see most of the other Red Sage guests milling around Claire. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

The two of them went over to the office.

When they walked in, Heidi and Henry looked up from the toy corner. They had obviously already had their baths, and were in their pajamas.

“Hey!” Henry’s face lit up. He elbowed his sister. “Look! It’s Mr. Fearsome.”

Heidi grinned, too. She plucked a picture book off the shelf and ran over to him. “Can you read us another story with voices?”

“We went to a party today,” Henry declared, ignoring his twin. “They had cake and everything.”

“Yeah.” Heidi clutched her storybook to her chest, and peered up at Heath. “We helped Buddy blow out the candles because he couldn’t do it all by himself.”

“That’s great.” Heath smiled.

Ginger looked over at the banquet table in the corner. It was covered with a gingham tablecloth as well as boxes of pizza, paper plates and napkins. An ice-filled washtub holding canned sodas sat on the floor next to it. “Y’all having a party?” she asked, in a tone that indicated if it were true, it wasn’t much of a celebration.

“We’re helping Claire make a sales video for the ranch,” Mr. Finglestein said. He and his wife were dressed identically in khaki trousers, plaid shirts and multi-pocketed canvas vests. Both had binoculars slung around their necks. The excitement in their eyes made them look younger than their fifty-something years.

Mrs. Finglestein nodded and indicated the jumble of cameras, cables and laptops connected to Claire’s computer. “We’re letting Claire use some of the footage we’ve shot while we’ve been birding.”

T. S. Sturgeon, the mystery writer on deadline, looked up from the yellow legal pad she was scribbling on. “I’m writing the copy.” She paused and considered Heath. “You have a nice voice. Deep. Resonant. Quietly authoritative. Maybe you should do some of the voice-overs.”

Mrs. Finglestein nodded. “It would be worth your while. If you help, you get a free night’s stay.”

Claire avoided Heath’s eyes. With good reason, he thought. Making the sales video was a good idea, but reducing her profits for the month even further by giving away free lodging was not.

“Ginger could give it a try, too,” T.S. said. “Maybe have both a man and a woman speaking.”

Mrs. Finglestein nodded. “Might broaden the appeal.”

The twins tugged on Heath’s pant legs, soundlessly pleading for him to pick them up. Aware they were a little old for that, but also probably a little overwhelmed by the chaotic activity, he scooped one up in each arm.

“Read to us!” Heidi tried to give him the book, and ended up thunking him in the chin.

Claire sent them a distressed look. “Kids…!”

The door to the office opened. Mae Lefman, babysitter and part-time ranch employee, walked in.

Claire’s spine relaxed in relief.

“I got here as soon as I could,” Mae said, with a smile.

“They’re all ready for bed,” Claire told her. She crossed over to the children, and one by one, removed them from Heath’s arms, kissing and hugging them before setting them down next to Mae.

“I have work to do.” Claire knelt and faced Heidi and Henry, meeting them on their level. “SoMrs. Lefman is going to put you to bed and stay there with you until I’m finished.”

“Can Mr. Fearsome read us a story with voices?”

“No, honey, not tonight.But Mrs. Lefman will read to you.”

“How about Curious George books?” Mae suggested, holding out a hand to each twin. “They’re lots of fun.”

Wistfully, Heath watched the children walk across the yard to the ranch house. It shouldn’t matter to him who read the kids a bedtime story. But somehow it did…

Which probably meant he was getting way too involved.

“So how about it?” T.S. asked, drawing Heath back to the present. “Either of you interested in doing the voice-overs?”

“Thanks for the invitation, but Heath and I already have plans,” Ginger interjected. “I promised to show him some real-estate listings this evening so we can start looking at properties tomorrow. Maybe we can help some other time?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Claire looked at Ginger with the patience of a saint, given the agent’s rather snotty attitude. “But thank you for the offer.”

“If you need a voice-over,” Heath interjected, “or any other help, count me in. I don’t know a lot about putting together a video, but I’m a quick study.”

“Thanks. But I think we’ve got it covered. Y’all should stick to your original plans.”

She was jealous, Heath realized with surprise. And there was no reason for her to be. Now was not the time to clear that up, however. That was a discussion best had without an audience. “Well, if you think of anything I can do, let me know,” he volunteered. “I’ll be back later.”

Claire nodded and turned back to the computer screen in front of her.

Clearly resenting anything that got in the way of her making a sale, Ginger touched Heath’s elbow and escorted him toward the door. “The house I want to show you hasn’t come on the market just yet,” she said, loudly enough for everyone else to hear. “But it’s renovated and move-in ready. If you like it, we can make a preemptive bid,” she added, ignoring the fact he’d told her he did not want to purchase anything until his old home had sold. “You could be moved into your new place before the Thanksgiving holiday…”

And not so coincidentally, Heath thought, off the Red Sage. Away from Claire and the kids…

“PUSHY, ISN’T SHE?” T.S. murmured, after the two had left.

Struggling not to feel resentful, Claire shrugged, “Ginger’s just doing her job.”

“She’s after Heath,” Mrs. Finglestein stated.

So what if she was? It wasn’t Claire’s business. One kiss did not make her and Heath a couple, or anywhere close to it. They hadn’t even gone on a date. Nor were they likely to, given their complicated business relationship. “He’s single,” she said stiffly.

Mr. Finglestein studied her. “You should make a play for him,” he announced.

Claire flushed. Deep down, she’d had much the same thought. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Because you’d make a cute couple!” his wife exclaimed.

“Not everyone needs to be married.” T.S. turned to Claire with a wink. “But a little romance is always nice.”

Claire’s face was now fire-engine red. “He’s a guest!” she declared, as if that settled it.

“And you’re a woman and he’s a man,” Mrs. Finglestein quipped. “Seriously. You’re both available. We all saw the way Heath was looking at you just now. You should think about pursuing the attraction.”

“What’s the harm in generating a few sparks?” T.S. teased.

None, Claire thought. Unless her plan to make the guest ranch a success sputtered and failed, and Heath was forced—by virtue of his own responsibilities—to end her family’s dreams.

Chapter Four

Figuring he should take advantage of the trails everyone had been raving about, Heath set his alarm, grabbed a flashlight and went for a predawn run. The morning was crisp and clear and the air felt good in his lungs. Coming back to the ranch house afterward, he noticed that the lights were on.

Through the windows, Heath could see Claire moving around the kitchen.

He wondered if she was still ticked off at him, and even more curious as to why it mattered so much. After all, the two of them had just met.

He exhaled.

It all came down to the kiss they’d shared. His response to her, hers to him. There was definitely something there. Some special chemistry he could not ignore. He paused to stretch out his muscles, drew a few more deep, cooling breaths, then sauntered in.

Claire took a pan of freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the oven and set them on the counter to cool.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She gave the pot of oatmeal a stir. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Damn, but she looked gorgeous in a long denim skirt, a chestnut-hued sweater and the stack-heeled boots she wore around the ranch. Her honey-blond curls had a mussed, casual look that suited her perfectly. Heath edged closer. “You were up awfully late last night.”

Bypassing the coffee simmering on the warmer, she poured him a tall glass of ice water from the pitcher on the counter. “How do you know?”

Heath chugged the liquid gratefully. “I saw the lights.”

Her expression closed, she didn’t comment.

Okay, so she was ticked off at him. “Did you get your video finished?” he pressed.

“Yes.” Seeing he’d finished his water, she poured him some coffee with the impersonal politeness of a restaurant hostess.

Heath studied the pink color in her cheeks. “What’s the plan?”

Claire avoided his eyes as she mixed confectioner’s sugar, vanilla and milk. “Why are you asking?”

He matched her contentious tone. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

She raised her chin, resentment simmering in her amber eyes. “Perhaps because you don’t approve and you don’t even know what I’m doing,” she blurted.

Heath took a sip of coffee, finding it as delicious as everything else she cooked, which somehow rankled even more. “I didn’t say that,” he stated evenly.

She released a short, bitter laugh. “Didn’t have to. I could see the little cash register in your brain going when you heard I bartered a night’s rent in exchange for help making the video.”

Heath exhaled. “You have to admit that’s not going to improve your cash flow.”

“We’ll see,” she said shortly.

He finished his coffee in silence and set his mug down on the counter. “You don’t want to tell me anything more about it?”

She reached for the decanter and refilled his mug. “Nope.”

Another silence fell, until Heath finally cleared his throat. “About Ginger…”

Claire tasted the frosting she was making and added a bit more vanilla. She hit the switch on the mixer, keeping her eyes on the concoction swirling around in the bowl. “I really don’t want to talk about Ginger, either,” she said tightly.

Resisting the urge to forgo all conversation and simply pull her close and kiss her again, he said, “I know how she made it sound last night.”

“Really.” Claire turned off the mixer and planted a hand on her hip. “And how was that?”

“Like she and I are getting closer than we are.”

Claire’s brow lifted. “Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with her?”

“I don’t have to—Ginger knows where she and I stand. Ours is a business relationship, period.”

“Yeah, well—” Claire’s lower lip shot out “—so is ours, and you kissed me.”

Heath tore his gaze from her mouth. “That kiss had nothing to do with business,” he told her gruffly.

“I agree.” Her eyes glimmered with emotion. “Which is why it shouldn’t happen again, given the fact that you and I have a business relationship.”

“Actually, we don’t have a business relationship,” Heath corrected, aware that, ethically, there was a fine line, and he was walking it. “My business arrangement is with your niece and nephew.”

Claire began icing the rolls. “You represent the fiduciary interests of the kids. And I’m their guardian.”

“Which puts us on the same team, because you want what is best for them, too.”

The buzzer went off. She slipped on heat-proof gloves and removed a casserole from the oven. “I’m just not sure we agree what that is going to be.”

Heath wasn’t, either. “I want you to succeed,” he said finally.

Noting him eyeing the egg, sausage, cheese and potatoe medley, she went ahead and cut him a square. It was piping hot and delicious, and only helped make her case that she knew what she was doing here…

“Then do whatever you have to with the bank and the trust to give me more time,” she pleaded, in a way that made it very hard to resist.

Heath reminded himself to stay in business mode. “I’d like to help you in any way I can.”

“But you’re not going to, right?” Claire twisted her lips as the phone rang, then reached over and picked it up. “Red Sage Guest Ranch, Claire Olander speaking…Your parents and their friends stayed at the ranch last summer? I’m sorry. I don’t remember, but we were…I don’t normally rent to anyone under twenty-one. I see.” She paused. “You understand it’s a dry county and we don’t allow drinking on the ranch?”

Heath cleaned his plate as the phone conversation continued. Claire gestured for him to help himself to more. She grabbed a piece of paper and pen and began jotting down names and numbers.

“Right now, we have seven cabins available. Three are two bedroom, with a sofa bed in the living room, so they can sleep a maximum of six adults. If you want to do that, I’m going to have to charge you per adult. Tonight? Sure. I can have everything ready by seven-thirty. Cash is fine. Thank you. Yes. See you then.”

Heath lifted a brow. It was easy to see something good had happened, from the excited gleam in her eyes.

“We’ve got twenty-eight college kids checking in tonight,” she reported.

The number sounded good. The type of guest did not. “There goes the peace and quiet.”

Heath expected her to be insulted. Instead she laughed and went back to icing rolls. “You are old.”

Heath could not understand why she wasn’t concerned. “They’ll be up all night,” he predicted. Not to mention the damage to the property that might be done.

Claire regarded him confidently. “I don’t think so.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Then you’re naive.”

She continued to smile as if she’d won the million-dollar lottery. “Are we done calling names here?”

“Who’s calling names?” Ginger breezed in the back door. “Any chance I can grab a roll and a cup of coffee for the road?”

“Help yourself.”

The real-estate agent plucked one of the unfrosted rolls off the tray, then smiled at Heath. “I’ll pick you up at the bank at five tonight?”

“Make it six,” he said, wishing she hadn’t chosen this moment to remind Claire they were going out to look at property.

Ginger smiled. “Six it is, then.” Breakfast in hand, she sashayed toward the door. Reaching it, she turned back and said with deliberate cheer, “Have a great day, y’all.”

Claire gave Heath a look that said he had just lost every bit of ground he had gained with her, and then some.

“Oh, I plan to,” she said.

CLAIRE MANAGED TO AVOID any direct personal contact with Heath for the next two days. She was busy with the influx of guests, and he was rarely around, despite the fact it was a weekend. Claire told herself she was happy he wasn’t there. One less thing to worry about. Obsess over. Yet on Sunday afternoon, as she was stripping cabins of their linens and towels after the group checked out, and she heard Heidi say, “There he is!” her spirits inexplicably rose.

She knew who the twins were talking about even before she turned around.

Looking innocent as could be, Heath sauntered toward them, stopping when the twins barreled into his legs.The two giggled in delight as he swooped them up in his arms simultaneously.

No one had done that since Sven died.

Claire felt tears well up inside her, but she pushed them away. She was not going to cry right now…She took a deep, bolstering breath.

“Did you see all the bi’cles?” Henry asked Heath.

He spared her a quick, assessing glance before turning back to the little boy. “I sure did.”

“There were lots and lots of them,” Heidi exclaimed.

“We’re too little to ride bi’cles,” Henry announced.

“Yeah. If we want to ride something, we have to ride our trikes!” Heidi said.

“Want to see us ride our trikes?” Henry asked.

“After we’re done,” Claire interjected, before they could jump out of Heath’s arms and run off to get them. “We’re in the process of taking out all the trash and collecting the linens. Remember? Say goodbye to Mr. McPherson, kids, so we can get back to our chores.”

Their expressions altered instantly. “Do we hafta?” Henry asked sadly.

Heidi’s lower lip shot out petulantly.

Their disappointment affected Heath. “Actually, I’m not doing anything. I could push the cart, too.”

“But you’re a guest.” Claire protested.

Gently, Heath set the twins back down on the ground in front of Cottage 2. He challenged her with a steady. “You accepted help from other guests.”

As if it were already settled, Henry walked up to the hotel laundry cart. “We’ll show you how to do it. First I gotta fix it with my wrench.” He got the plastic tool out of the carpenter’s belt around his waist and twisted and tightened the handle. Finished, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, the way he had seen his dad do.