living areas. Beyond the patio, steps led down to a pool with a waterfall, a cabana, chairs and chaise longues. Tropical plants added an appealing touch.
“Have a seat,” Jake said. He turned as she sat in a leather wingback chair. In a sweeping glance he took in her blue Western shirt that clung to lush curves and tucked into her snug jeans. Her belt circled a waist that was as small as he had guessed at his first glimpse. The little Santerre kid he had always ignored had turned into a stunning woman. He sat in another leather chair that faced her across a low mahogany table.
She crossed her long legs and he wondered how she would look in a dress. The image made his blood heat. She looked poised, comfortable, unlike someone desperate to get him to agree to something. She also looked desirable. Even though she was a Santerre, there was a red-hot chemistry about her that tempted him to forget who she was.
When he looked up from her legs, his eyes met hers and he was again ensnared. Attraction was tangible. She had to feel it because she held his gaze as invisible sparks heated him. He wanted to know her better. At the same time, the lifelong hatred of all Santerres coated the magnetism with bitterness. Caitlin was as forbidden as poison, yet he wanted to place his lips on her to taste and kiss.
Taking a deep breath he tore his gaze away to return his attention with more composure.
“Have you been waiting long?” he asked. “I took my time flying in here this morning.”
“I was willing to wait,” she said.
“How’d you know I was coming today?”
Amusement flashed in her expressive eyes. “I’ve hired a private detective to learn your whereabouts so I could find an opportunity to talk to you. You rarely have a bodyguard with you.”
“You’re taking a chance because you know I can have you arrested.”
“It would be a little more difficult to consider me a trespasser now that you’ve invited me into your house.”
“So you want to buy back part of your ranch. Why didn’t you discuss this with your brother?”
“My half brother never gave me the opportunity. It’s general knowledge in these parts that traditionally in the Santerre family, the oldest son inherits the ranch. They are raised to protect the ranch, maintain it, keep it in the family. Well, all of that instruction didn’t take with Will. He does as he pleases and he has no interest in cowboys, the country or ranch life.”
“He told me he didn’t,” Jake said, thinking about the closing that he hadn’t planned to attend and then did just to face Will when he bought out the Santerres. In spite of Will being happy over the sale, the buyout had been sweet revenge—a goal through generations of Bentons to see the last of the Santerres in the area. Jake’s attorneys had already informed him that Caitlin wasn’t included in the ranch inheritance. Also, she hadn’t lived at the ranch since she had graduated from college. He still had thought of her as a child, so he had dismissed her from mind.
“Why didn’t Will sell part of the ranch to you since you want it badly?”
“He didn’t bother to contact me, either about selling or to ask if I wanted to buy any part of it. Will and I aren’t close. He cares only about himself.”
“I’d agree with that,” Jake stated, remembering the antagonism he had felt toward Will at the closing. Each time he had looked into Will’s hazel eyes, he could see loathing mirrored there.
“If it were left up to Will,” Caitlin continued, “I would be excluded from the family. Our father felt the same.”
“If I remember correctly, your grandmother raised you. She was a Santerre, actually, your father’s mother.”
“Yes, but unlike him in so many ways. I loved her deeply and she was good to me. Because of her, I’m recognized as a Santerre by everyone except Will.”
Jake recalled lots of gossip regarding the Santerre family history—how Caitlin’s mother had been a maid for the Santerres, the brief affair … and the resulting baby. And how the baby had been unacknowledged and cut off by Titus Santerre, yet adopted and raised by her paternal grandmother. How Titus Santerre had remained married to Will’s mother until her death and did not remarry.
“Why do you want to buy any of the ranch back?” he asked. “You don’t live here any longer and you’re not a rancher.” His gaze drifted over her thick auburn hair that was pinned loosely on her head with a few escaping strands. Looking silky, her hair was another temptation, making him think of running his fingers through the soft strands.
“I adored my grandmother and I loved growing up in her house. The people who worked for her closely were included in her will. Our foreman, Kirby Lenox, Altheda Perkins, who was our cook and now also cleans, and Cecilia Mayes, Grandmother’s companion—they all stayed on. Kirby and two who work for him, still run the ranch. They care for the horses and the few cattle we have. Altheda maintains the house, cooking and overseeing the cleaning. Cecilia is elderly now. She devoted her life to Grandmother, first as her personal secretary and later as companion.
“I knew people were still staying there.”
“As owner, you could have evicted them.”
“I’m not in a rush. I figured they would leave before long. If they didn’t, then I planned to tell them they had to go. It is my property.”
“I love all of them because they were there when I grew up. I wanted to keep the house, barn and animals for them as long as they live. I wanted to be able to return occasionally to the ranch house—just as you must do here.”
Jake nodded. “Why didn’t you tell Will?”
She looked away but he had seen the coldness in her expression that came with his question. “I did tell Will. He just laughed at me and reminded me that my father barely acknowledged my existence so I had no say in what he did with the ranch. He said he would tell me if it looked as if I could come up with more money to buy it and make a better offer than anyone else who bid on it. When the time came, he didn’t. I knew nothing about the sale. He didn’t legally have to notify me because I had no more part of ownership of the ranch than a stranger.”
Jake felt no stir of sympathy for her. Even though she and Will were alienated, Jake couldn’t forget that they were both Santerres. The same blood ran in her veins as in Will’s.
“You know I can’t work up much sympathy for a Santerre,” Jake admitted, voicing his thoughts aloud. “Not even a beautiful one.”
One dark eyebrow arched as she gave him a level look. “You’re honest. I’m not asking you to like me or even see me again in your lifetime. I just want to buy the house and part of the land. Grandmother never owned it. There was a stipulation in my father’s will assuring her she could live there the rest of her life and then it would belong to Will. All I want is a small part.”
“What advantage for me would there be in doing any such thing?” he asked. “It would mean keeping a Santerre for a neighbor. You surely heard the family histories and know what kind of past we’ve had.”
“Oh, I’ve heard,” she replied lightly as if discussing the weather. “The first Benton killed the first Santerre over water. The river meanders and thus the argument continues about each family’s rights and boundary. Our great-great-grandfathers were
