startling, she was caught and held by brown eyes so dark they looked black. With their gazes locked, a sizzling current rocked her.
An even bigger surprise shook her when she noticed a flicker in the depths of his eyes. His chest expanded with a deep breath—he appeared jolted by the same magnetic charge that captured her. With an effort, she gathered her wits and turned away, ending the eye contact. She crossed the room to shake hands with him.
“Mr. Callahan, I’m Sierra Benson, and it’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, trying to regain her poise.
The handshake was a mistake. The instant his warm fingers closed over hers, the same riveting current jumpstarted again, only stronger this time.
Snagged by another exchange with his mesmerizing gaze, she stood breathless, aware of the physical contact, even more conscious that he was as immobile as she. How long did they stand in silence, held by a handshake and eye contact?
She slipped her hand out of his.
“It’s Blake and, I hope, Sierra,” he said easily in a deep voice. His tone sounded casual, friendly, but his look was probing, as if trying to find something that would explain why they were caught in an invisible current.
“Fine,” she answered, striving to get a firm note into her tone. “Please, have a seat. I missed meeting you at the grand opening of your hotel because of a family emergency. Decorating your hotel was an exciting project.”
Blake sat across from her, with her ancient hardwood desk between them. In an impeccable navy suit and a shirt with French cuffs that revealed gold cufflinks, Blake could have been a model—except he conveyed the signs of a man accustomed to more physical activity. He moved with an ease that indicated a high degree of fitness.
She suspected he had not been in any office in his life that was as run-down as hers. In his elegant clothes, he looked out of place in the eighty-three-year-old building that had not been maintained well. Tattered, faded books lined her shelves. The wooden floor had long ago lost its luster. Gusts of March wind rattled the aging windowpanes behind her.
“You did the best job on that hotel of any interior designer we’ve ever hired,” Blake said.
“Thank you,” she answered, pleased to hear that kind of praise.
“I was surprised to discover you’ve left the business when you have a natural talent for design.”
“Thanks again. Helping others is my first love, so when this opportunity arose, I took it. We do a lot of good for people, which I’ll be happy to tell you about. I assume that’s why you’re here.” She settled back in her chair.
When he shook his head, her spirits plummeted. “No? Your response is an immense disappointment,” she admitted. “If you’re not here to make a donation, why are you here, Mr. Callahan?”
“It’s Blake,” he reminded her with a smile that momentarily made her forget business. It was warm, disarming and added to his appeal. She tried to focus and pay attention to what he was saying.
“I’m building a new wing on my ranch house in Texas. You’re the best at interior design, and I’d like to hire you.”
“I’d hoped you were here to learn about our charities and to possibly help in some way. I appreciate the job offer, but I have to decline,” she answered as her disappointment increased. “I’m sorry you wasted time and effort to come talk to me in person.” She smiled at him. “I wish you’d give me some time and let me tell you about all we do here to help those who need a lift.”
“We have a problem,” he said, studying her with those riveting eyes that scrambled her thoughts. “If we try, perhaps we can do both—I’ll help with your charities and you consider my ranch job,” he answered pleasantly, but she knew he was telling her he would listen if she agreed to what he wanted.
“I appreciate your offer. It’s flattering, but I’m not leaving this work. It means too much to me. This was the work my grandfather loved, and before he died I promised to continue it.”
“If you’d take this job, which would only be short-term, I could make it worth your while,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her last remarks.
She smiled. He obviously did not take refusal easily.
“My interests are here,” she replied. “You can find talented interior designers who can do your new wing,” she added, wondering when he would give up trying to persuade her to do what he wanted.
They sat in silence a moment before he took out a checkbook and wrote. She suspected he would try to offer her more than the usual amount to do the decorating job for him. That aura of confidence surrounding him indicated he was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. The money would be tempting, but she could find money elsewhere.
Certain he would offer an exorbitant sum, she watched as he wrote a second check.
Now he leaned forward, stretching out a long arm to place the two checks on her desk. “One of these is for your work on the new wing at my ranch. You’ll have to live there to get the job done, but it shouldn’t take more than a few weeks. The other check is a donation to this agency, and if everything is satisfactory, I’ll make the same donation annually for at least three years.”
Stunned, she looked at two identical checks, each for half a million dollars. For a moment she was speechless, trying to digest his offer.
“Why would you offer me so much money? There are other excellent decorators.”
“I don’t know them or their work. You’re the best choice for the job. Besides, now that we’ve met, I’d like to get to know you.”
Yes, there was chemistry between them—she couldn’t deny it. But his admission that he’d like to get to know her only increased her reluctance about the job. She hoped to avoid ever being in a situation like her last job—where her boss tried to bribe her into his bed.
Staring at the checks on her desk, she forgot the past. She couldn’t ignore the money Blake would pour into her nonprofit, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the good that could be accomplished by his incredibly generous donation. And the promise of more donations to come. Her head spun with possibilities, dreams they had for the charity to grow. The kind of money Blake offered would take years to accumulate.
“You would really do this?” she whispered, looking up at him. “Just to get my design services?”
“Yes. And if it works out well, you’ll get more donations,” he said with a coaxing smile. As she looked at the check again, he sat in silence.
There was no way she could turn down such a dazzling offer that would put so much money into Brigmore Charities. It was thrilling to think how many people they could reach. Without looking up, she considered the man sitting across from her. She had seen his picture in society pages, Texas magazines and occasionally on television. He had an active social life, and a lot of the pictures had shown him escorting beautiful women.
“You actually live and work in Dallas most of the time, don’t you?” she asked.
“One week out of each month I’m in Dallas, unless something important interferes. The ranch is where I prefer to be.”
Realizing she might have
