She was on edge most of the day, and her nerves still jangled when she finally went to her bedroom to get ready for her date. Closing the door behind her, she looked at the room where she had grown up. It still held her maple four-poster bed, maple furniture with a rocker covered in blue cushions. An oriental rug covered the floor. As a girl, how many nights had she slept in that bed and dreamed of Gabe Brant, fantasizing about a date with him? Well, she finally was going on that date.
He had lost his parents and wife all within the past few years. She knew he had to hurt over those losses. Whether he grieved or not, Gabe was tough and ruthless.
She kept thinking about Julian. The little boy was adorable. Marry the father and she would have a son. She drew a deep breath. She shouldn’t marry him because of his little boy.
Was she setting herself up, too, for another heartache like Lars? Trusting a man again when she shouldn’t?
She bathed and pulled on the simple, dark-blue sleeveless cotton dress. With care she pinned her hair behind her head. She put on her diamond stud earrings and watch. She studied herself in the mirror, turning first one way and then another. She was seven months pregnant and that was that. She couldn’t change her shape.
With one last glance at the mirror, she prayed to herself that her father didn’t come home until after she was gone. He had argued with her about the dinner date, but had finally accepted that she wanted to go.
To her dismay, when she entered the family room, her father sat in his leather recliner, reading a magazine. She saw he had cleaned up for the occasion. He wore a fresh blue shirt and jeans. His hair was damp and recently combed and he scowled slightly as he read. When she stepped into the room, he looked up.
“Don’t you look nice,” he said.
“I look big.”
“Well, that’s the way you should be and you really aren’t very big to be ready to deliver in two months,” he said reassuringly. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind about tonight? I can go out and run Brant off when he gets here.”
“I want to hear what he has to say. You know I’m not going to do anything to hurt the ranch or you.”
“That’s what’s worrying me. I think you’re doing this for me and for the ranch. All the wrong reasons.”
The doorbell interrupted their conversation. “He’s at the front door,” she said. “I’ll bring him in and introduce you.”
“We’ve met. I’d still like to get my shotgun and run him off.”
“Just hang on to your temper.” She headed to the door, feeling butterflies in her stomach that didn’t have a thing to do with her pregnancy or her father’s anger.
She swung open the door to face Gabe Brant.
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