with hair, tapering to strong wrists. They disappeared into his jeans pockets when he caught her staring at him.
“Good morning.” He smiled, but his eyes were focused on her lips, which she was still biting nervously.
“You’re very prompt.” The words came out more sharply than she’d intended, but the fact of the matter was she was more affected by his appearance than she cared to admit.
His jaw ticked ever so slightly in response to her tone. “I’ve got to be back by lunchtime.”
Wow, wasn’t this romantic? She rested her weight back on a hip. Gee, honey, don’t mean to rush you, but could you answer my proposal so I can get back to the cows? He didn’t say it, but that was how it made her feel. Suddenly she doubted her decision. Things were happening too fast. A week ago she’d just been trying to pay her share of the rent. Today she was actually contemplating moving out to a farm in the middle of nowhere in a bogus marriage to a man she didn’t even know. This was so surreal.
“I don’t mean to rush you.” He tried an encouraging smile instead.
“You think by turning on the charm I’m going to follow along meekly?” Her eyes shot fire at him. “You need to do more than flash your pearly whites to convince me.”
He stepped back, properly chastised. “I beg your pardon,” he responded stiffly.
She couldn’t help it. The whole situation was ludicrous. Her lips curved up slightly in response and she let her eyes twinkle at him. “I would think so.”
She knew the moment he got that she was teasing. His eyes warmed, glowing back at her, and a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m ready.” She pulled the backpack out from behind the door and stepped out on to the porch.
“You mean you’ll do it?” His jaw dropped.
She kept her smile in place. She was glad he hadn’t been sure of her; that made what came next a little easier.
“Well, not exactly.”
“I don’t understand. Either you’re coming or not.” He leaned his right arm against the porch pillar, pulling the shirt taut against his ribs.
Alex licked her lips, unsure of how to begin. “I’m not sure marriage is such a good idea. We hardly know each other.” She braved a look into his eyes. “For all I know you’re some wacko, looking for an easy target.”
His gaze was steady on hers. He didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, but took her comment seriously. “And do you really think that?”
“No,” she admitted. “But this is pretty unorthodox, you have to admit.”
“A business dealing, no more. I help you, you help me.”
He made it seem easy, when it wasn’t—not at all. This was her future and her baby’s that she was tampering with. Alex, who hadn’t relied on anyone in years, was suddenly considering becoming dependent on a relative stranger for her security and well-being. There was nothing simple about that. The one thing that kept her even considering it was the lack of choices she seemed to have lately.
She stepped back, putting a few extra inches of distance between them. “What I mean is, this is all happening so fast.”
“I know that. Which is why I had an idea this weekend. How about a trial period first? You come up to Windover, stay a while, before you make your decision. If you decide it won’t work, I’ll bring you back here.”
When the strain evaporated from her face like magic, he knew he’d done the right thing.
“I think that is a very sensible approach,” she responded. Her eyes cleared of worry and she treated him to another one of her genuine smiles.
“I certainly don’t want to chain you to the place if you’re going to be miserable for the next…how many months? I thought this might be a way to test the waters.”
“Four months,” she replied thinly. Chained to the place? The place wasn’t worrying her half as much as being chained to him. And it would likely be more than four months. Once the baby came she’d need some time to recover; to figure out what to do next.
Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “How long a trial period?” She knew he was operating on a timeline, and a short one, and she didn’t want to feel pressed to make this decision in the first forty-eight hours, or some silly thing.
“I don’t know. No longer than a week.”
Her breath came out in a rush, but her words came out cautiously. “OK. A week I can do.”
“In that case, let’s get going.”
She lifted her backpack as he spoke, surprised when his hands took the weight from her. Her shoulder tingled where his fingers touched.
She’d forgotten his penchant for chivalry, which was surprising, since he was constantly polite. It was hard to get used to that in a man. Simply not what she’d been used to.
“Thank you.”
“Where’s the rest?”
She looked at her toes. “That is the rest.”
“This is all you’ve got?” He halted by the door of the truck, his fingers on the handle. “No suitcase?”
“This is it,” she said firmly. She would not, could not, get into a discussion of why her life was packed into a solitary bag. Someday she’d settle, find something permanent. Then she’d make the home for herself that she longed for.
Wordlessly he opened the door, helped her in, and put the pack behind her seat. Nerves bubbled up in her stomach. What on earth was she doing? This was crazy. Insane. She knew next to nothing about him.
He got up into the cab beside her and started the engine as she fastened her seatbelt. At least she’d had the foresight to do a bit of checking on him of her own. Saturday she’d hit the library and the computers there, looking up information on the man and his ranch.
Surprisingly, there’d been several hits to her query, and she had read with fascination articles regarding Connor and, more interestingly, his family. His father had been prominent in the beef industry, and under his hand the farm had flourished. The Madsen ranch had been around for over a hundred years. Now she understood why Connor was determined to make it through this crisis.
One hit had turned up a recent “spotlight” on Connor—he had done an interview on innovative breeding. His picture had come up beside the print, and she’d stared at it. He sure didn’t look like some creep, despite the oddness of his proposal. He was twenty-nine, sexy as the day was long, and apparently smart and well respected. Her eyes darted to the imposing figure beside her, concentrating on the road.
She wished she’d found something more personal—a vital statistics sort of thing. Where was his family now? He’d only mentioned his grandmother. What were his interests, his quirks?
The only way she could find out that information was to talk to the man himself. She wasn’t at all sure she could marry him, even if
