stars on the lenses of his sunglasses.
Mary knew by then why he’d come. The Bravos must have sent him. Her tired shoulders slumped. So much for a nice diversion. She would rather be back at her desk, racking her fuzzy brain for a fascinating way to describe sterilizing canning jars, than dealing with the man who’d just taken off his sunglasses and tossed them casually to the seat of his pricey SUV.
He shut the driver’s door, grabbed the briefcase and came around the front of the vehicle. Mary dug her fingers into the aching muscles at the base of her spine and wished he would just turn around, open that door again, get back in that beautiful car and drive off. How many times does a woman have to say “no” before the big-money types take the hint and go away?
As he mounted the steps to her front porch, she actually considered not answering his knock. After all, she was feeling like a beached whale, she’d already told the Bravos “no” three times and meant it—and she had work that truly did need doing.
But then, with a certain bittersweet sadness, she thought of Rowdy. Rowdy had always been the soul of politeness. Though he was fourteen years older than she was, he’d called her “ma’am” for weeks after they met—until their first date, as a matter of fact. A gentle, soft-spoken, oldfashioned man, he would always take off his hat in the presence of a woman.
Rowdy would never have given those Bravos what they were after. But he would do them the courtesy of answering the door and telling them “no” straight to their faces. Again.
So when the rich man knocked, Mary answered.
She pulled the door open and there he was, so handsome and fit-looking, he might have been a model. Or even a movie star. He had a sexy smile ready—a smile that only wavered slightly when he got a look at her ginormous stomach. Apparently, if someone back at the BravoCorp highrise in San Antonio had told him that the Hofstetter widow was pregnant, they’d failed to mention how pregnant.
He gestured for her to open the glass storm door that still stood between them. With a sigh, she flipped the lock and pushed it open a crack. He took the handle and pulled it the rest of the way until it caught and held wide.
“Mary Hofstetter?” He had a voice to match his looks. Deep and manly. Smooth as melted butterscotch.
She drew her shoulders back and forced a smile. “Yes?”
“I’m Gabe. Gabe Bravo.” Well. Darned if they hadn’t sent a real Bravo this time. He took out a card and handed it over.
Without giving it so much as a glance, she stuck the card in the back pocket of her jeans and got right down to the business of getting rid of him. “I’d invite you in, but I’ve got work that won’t wait. And there’s really no point in us talking, anyway. I’ll only be telling you what I’ve told the others you sent. I don’t care what the offer is, I’m not selling. So you have a nice day.” She granted him a nod, parsed out a tight smile and started to shut the door.
“Mary.” He spoke softly, but with clear command. His tone made her hesitate with the door half-closed. Sky-blue eyes reproached her—and somehow managed to gleam with wry humor at the same time. “You haven’t even heard what I’ve come to say.”
“I’ve heard enough from those other men you sent.”
“But since then, we’ve rethought the offer. There’s more now.”
“Doesn’t make a bit of difference.”
He put on a hurt look. “How can you say that?”
Mary looked at him straight on. “Easily.”
“You’re making a big mistake. You don’t know yet what we’re willing to do to come to a satisfying solution to this problem.”
“But, Gabe, I don’t need to know. For me, there is no problem. I’m already satisfied.”
“Come on.” He wrapped his hand around the door frame, a supremely casual move. “Let me surprise you.” His eyes were alight with humor, as if he dared her to shut the door now—and crush his tanned fingers with their buffed-smooth nails. “Please.”
She stared into those gorgeous eyes and found herself thinking that maybe a surprise wouldn’t be half-bad—and then she blinked and shook her head. “Seriously. I’ve already decided. I don’t want to sell. Now, I really do have to—”
“You’ll never be sure unless you hear me out.” He slanted her a sideways look, mouth curved in a hint of a smile, as if they shared a secret, just the two of them.
She knew the guy was working her, knew she should simply say “no thank you,” ask him to move his hand and shut the door the rest of the way. But she didn’t. Nervously, she guided a few stray strands of hair away from her eyes, tucking them behind her ear. “No, really. I’m sorry you drove out here for nothing. But I just.. .don’t have time right now.”
He refused to give up. “I promise you,” he coaxed. “It won’t take long. Don’t make me go back to my board of directors without being sure I’ve done all I can to change your mind.” Another smile, a hopeful one.
Mary couldn’t stop herself from smiling in return. What was it about him? She’d allowed the first guy they’d sent into the house. It had seemed only right to hear the offer before giving her answer. Once was enough, though. She hadn’t let the other two past her front door.
But this guy…well, he did have a way about him. All smooth and sociable. Too good-looking to be real, much too slick—and yet somehow, he still managed to come across as down-to-earth. As if the two of them were longtime friends and he was just stopping by to see how she was getting along.
“I could make a pot of coffee, I guess…” The words came out almost of their own accord at the same time as she found herself stepping backward, opening the door wide.
“Mary.” He granted her another of those I’m-your-bestfriend smiles. “I think you must have read my mind.”
Chapter Two
Gabe followed the Hofstetter widow through her living room, taking it all in—the worn, mismatched furniture, the scuffed hardwood floor, the scraggly-looking mutt sleeping in the corner, the cluttered desk and ancient PC. And the widow herself, in baggy jeans, red Keds and a white shirt shaped like a tent that billowed out over the giant bulge of her belly.
The floor plan was a simple one. An alcove near the front door held a narrow stairway and a half bath. The living room opened onto the single dining area, with a small U-shaped kitchen to the right of a square table. As he reached the table, he saw that a door opposite the kitchen led into a shadowed bedroom. He could see a rocking chair with a red bag hooked over the backrest, a pine night table and a section of a bed with a pine headboard.
“Have a seat.” She gestured at the table as she turned to the kitchen nook.
Gabe took the straight-back chair she offered and watched her as she loaded up a coffee filter with grounds from a can and filled the reservoir with tap water. Her giant stomach pressed the tiled counter as she worked. And her brown hair needed a cut. She had it tied back in a sloppy ponytail from which limp strands escaped along her nape and around her face.
Once she had
