to buy, how to pick cattle for conformation. She knew much less about horses, but that hardly mattered. She only had one left and the part-time man kept Bess—and Toast, until he was sold—groomed and fed and watered. She did at least know how to saddle the beast. But to Dana, a horse was a tool to use with cattle. Hayden cringed when she said that. He had purebred palominos and loved every one of them. He couldn’t understand anyone not loving horses as much as he did.
Oddly, though, it was their only real point of contention. In most other ways, they agreed, even on politics and religion. And they liked the same television programs. She smiled, remembering how many times they’d shared similar enthusiasms for weekly series, especially science fiction ones.
Hank had been kind to her father, too, and so patient when a man who’d given his life to being a country gentleman was suddenly faced with learning to be a rancher at the age of fifty-five. It made Dana sad to think how much longer her father’s life might have been if he’d taken up a less exhaustive profession. He’d had a good brain, and so much still to give.
She fixed a light lunch and a pot of coffee and thought about going back out to see about that downed fence. But another disaster would just be too much. She was disaster-prone when Hank was anywhere near her, and she seemed to be rapidly getting that way even when he wasn’t. He’d rescued her from mad bulls, trapped feet in corral fences, once from a rattlesnake and twice from falling bales of hay. He must be wondering if there wasn’t some way he could be rid of her once and for all.
It was nice of him not to mention those incidents when he’d rescued her from the fence, though. Surely he’d been tempted to.
Tempted. She colored all over again remembering the intimacy they’d shared. In the seven years they’d known each other, he’d never touched her until today. She wondered why he had.
The sound of a car outside on the country road brought her out of the kitchen and to the front door, just in time to see Hank’s black luxury car pull into the driveway. He wasn’t a flashy sort of man, and he didn’t go overboard to surround himself with luxurious things. That make of car was his one exception. He had a fascination for the big cars that never seemed to waver, because he traded his in every other year—for another black one.
“Don’t you get tired of the color?” she’d asked him once.
“Why?” he’d replied laconically. “Black goes with everything.”
He came up onto the porch, and the expression on his face was one she hadn’t seen before. He looked as he always did, neatly dressed and clean-shaven, devastatingly handsome, but there was still a difference. After their brief interlude out in the pasture, the atmosphere between them was just a little strained.
He had his hands in his pockets as he glanced down at her body in the pretty ruffled blue sundress.
“Is that for my benefit?” he asked.
She blushed. She usually kicked around in jeans or cutoffs and tank tops. She almost never wore dresses around the ranch. And her hair was long and loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual braid.
She shrugged in defeat. “Yes, I guess it is,” she said, meeting his eyes with a rueful smile. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize. None at all. In fact, what happened this afternoon gave me some ideas that I want to talk to you about.”
Her heart jumped into her chest. Was he going to propose? Oh, glory, if only he would, and then he’d never even have to know about that silly clause in her father’s will!
CHAPTER TWO
SHE LED THE WAY into the kitchen and set out a platter of salad and cold cuts and dressing in the center of the table, on which she’d already put two place settings. She poured coffee into two mugs, gave him one and sat down. She didn’t have to ask what he took in his coffee, because she already knew that he had it black, just as she did. It was one of many things they had in common.
“What did you want to ask me, Hank?” she ventured after he’d worked his way through a huge salad and two cups of coffee. Her nerves were screaming with suspense and anticipation.
“Oh. That.” He leaned back with his half-drained coffee cup in his hand. “I wondered if you might be willing to help me out with a little playacting for my ex-wife’s benefit.”
All her hopes fell at her feet. “What sort of acting?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“I want you to pretend to be involved with me,” he said frankly, staring at her. “On this morning’s showing, it shouldn’t be too difficult to look as if we can’t keep our hands off each other. Should it?” he asked with a mocking smile.
Everything fell into place; his odd remarks, his “experiment” out there in the pasture, his curious behavior. His beloved ex-wife was coming to town and he didn’t want everyone to know how badly she’d hurt him or how he’d grieved at her loss. So Dana had been cast as his new love. He didn’t want a new wife, he wanted an actress.
She stared into her coffee. “I don’t guess you ever want to get married again, do you?” she asked with studied carelessness.
He saw right through that devious little question. “No, I don’t,” he said bluntly. “Once was enough.”
She grimaced. Her father had placed her in an intolerable position. Somehow, he must have suspected that his time was limited. Otherwise why should he have gone to such lengths in his will to make sure that his daughter was provided for after his death?
“You’ve been acting funny since your father died,” he said suddenly, and his eyes narrowed. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
She made an awkward motion with one shoulder.
“Did he go into debt and leave you with nothing, is that it?”
“Well …”
“Because if that’s the case, I can take care of the problem,” he continued, unabashed. “You help me out while Betty’s here, and I’ll pay off any outstanding debts. You can think of it as a job.”
She wanted to throw herself down on the floor and scream. Nothing was working out. She looked at him in anguish. “Oh, Hank,” she groaned.
He scowled. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. Spit it out.”
She took a steadying breath and got to her feet. “There’s a simpler way. I think … you’d better read Dad’s will. I’ll get it.”
She went into the living room and pulled out the desk drawer that contained her father’s will. She took it into the kitchen and handed it to a puzzled Hank, watching his lean, elegant hands unfasten the closure on the document.
“And before you start screaming, I didn’t know anything about that clause,” she added through her teeth. “It was as much a shock to me as it’s going to be to you.”
“Clause?” he murmured as he scanned over the will. “What clause … Oh, my God!”
“Now, Hank,” she began in an effort to thwart the threatened explosion she saw growing in his lean face.
“God
