so … male. The fact that he was also hostile … Kathryn fought to stay calm. To remain standing.
“Excuse me?” He frowned, those fierce dark eyes making her squirm inside. She wondered how many women had ever told Holt Calhoun no. Probably not many.
Probably none. The man looked like the definition of sex, all long legs, muscles and thick tousled, near-black hair. He looked like a man who knew how to do things. And not just ranching things. Things that involved getting naked with a woman.
Which was totally irrelevant … and terribly distracting. “I mean it,” Kathryn said. She frowned back at him, even if she was mostly upset at herself. Her Holt-crush years were long gone. She was going to be a mom. She needed to get her off-track life on track and do right by her baby, not get derailed by stupid, hormonally driven thoughts about a man who didn’t even want to talk to her and who reminded her of the bad places she’d been, not the good places she wanted to go.
“You plan to follow me around?” he finally said. “Lady, do you even know what you’re saying?”
No. “Yes. Mayor Hollis highly recommended you.”
Holt swore beneath his breath. “Johanna is sharp as they come, but she’s dead wrong about this.”
“I don’t think so. And you can’t make me leave. I’m … I’m persistent.” Which was such a lie. She’d never persisted with anything. And her ex-husband had loved to taunt her with that humiliating fact. Which might, she admitted, be a big part of why she had to persist with this now.
“This is a ranch,” Holt reminded her. “It’s big and dirty. There are animals that can break your foot if they step the wrong way or break your body if they fall on you. You are a pregnant woman.”
“Yes. I’ve noticed.”
He gave her a you-don’t-know-a-thing look. “No following.”
“Just give me a few minutes.”
He started to say no. She was sure of it, but she stuck out her hand and touched his arm. His blue chambray shirtsleeve was worn. His muscle was firm and warm beneath her palm. Kathryn didn’t know what the heck she was doing. She felt reckless and stupid and awkward, as she always had around him, but …
“We’ve already wasted several minutes arguing. Wouldn’t it be easier just to listen to me?”
“I have the feeling that nothing about this will be easy.”
So did she. “Just a few minutes,” she prompted.
“All right. Let’s get this over with. Sit. Talk.” He turned a chair backward, straddled it and looked at his watch. “You have ten minutes. No more.”
Kathryn swallowed hard and tried to find the right words. For the first time in her life she had Holt Calhoun’s attention and she couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity. There was too much at stake.
Holt felt like a volcano, bubbling hot and on the verge of blowing up everything around him. What in hell had the mayor been thinking when she’d recommended that he be the one to help Kathryn Ellis? And what was this about, anyway? Some nonsense about a clinic and donors, whatever that meant.
He wanted this conversation to be over, but he’d promised her ten minutes. And just look at her. Despite being heavily pregnant, which brought back terrible memories he didn’t even want to acknowledge, she was slender, bone-china fragile, and when she looked at him …
He noticed how her dark blond hair, streaked with a hundred shades of wheat, kissed her delicate jaw, how those big gray eyes looked so anxious. Despite her determined words, this woman looked as if a sharp wind could break her, both physically and emotionally. And then there was the fact that she was pregnant. That made her the last person in the world a man like him should be around. He’d seen her from a distance in town after the mayor had mentioned the situation, so he’d already decided that this wasn’t happening. And not just because he didn’t want to do what he’d heard she wanted him to do.
“Ms. Ellis,” he began.
“I’m Kathryn. You knew me when I was a teenager.”
He’d known who she was. Vaguely. A skinny, scared-looking little creature. That’s all he remembered. And by calling her by her last name he’d been trying to create distance, to make a point. “Ms. Ellis,” he said determinedly. “I’m afraid you’ve been led astray.”
“Johanna said you had business and political contacts that no one else in town has. Is that true?”
“It may be. But it’s irrelevant.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard why I’m here.”
He knew what he’d heard. The town already had a clinic, so …
“Why don’t you just spell it out?”
“I’m trying to get a new medical clinic built in Larkville. And lure a permanent doctor here. To do that, we may need the help of influential people.”
“Johanna’s the mayor. She has political contacts.”
“She’s the mayor of a town of less than two thousand. Her influence is limited. Your family name is known by people in high places.”
“I don’t suck up to them. I don’t ask favors. Ever.” He glared at her.
“I’m not asking you to—to prostitute yourself,” she said, all prim and librarian-like. Her eyelashes drifted down, just a bit before she righted them. Her slender hands were in tight fists. She was clearly nervous. Because she was determined to drag a yes from him or because he was out-and-out scaring her?
Holt wanted to let loose with a string of blue curses. He was rotten at situations like this, at dealing with women with expectations. He’d learned from his mother, his father, from his former fiancée, Lilith, that needing, caring, wanting too deeply, expecting too much, came with a hefty price tag. Emotion could cripple. He knew that. He’d paid that price before and was still paying it. So while he was used to doing all kinds of favors as the owner of the Double Bar C and he did them willingly, he kept things cut and dried, light, easy, uncomplicated by emotions. And he didn’t ask for favors himself. He was pretty sure based on what he’d heard that Kathryn Ellis was asking him to break several of his unbreakable rules. Be the giver, not the recipient. Remain in control of the situation at all times. Never let emotion enter into a deal.
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” he told her. “Just what are you asking me to do?”
“I want you to help me get the clinic off the ground. I want you to help me get funding.”
“Which will most likely mean prostituting myself, as you put it.”
“Not necessarily. Some people will give out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“For a clinic that will only benefit one very small town.”
“It’s your hometown.”
“It’s not their hometown. You’re talking about people who have a million life-or-death causes pounding on their doors
