whole aim in life was helping others, a commendable ambition, but not practical. At some point reality would hit, and she would give it up. Right now, it seemed ridiculous for her to toss aside a career she had a tremendous talent for to do charity work. She could have had her own design firm! Instead, she looked at the world through rose-colored glasses and saw everyone as filled with a basic goodness—which was not practical.
This was a lesson he had learned early in life when his father abandoned him. There was nothing good about a man who would dump his wife and small child, cutting them permanently out of his life. He never gave time or attention, and they had been hurt repeatedly by his indifference. Eventually, Sierra would learn that not everyone could be saved.
He’d learned about the realities of human nature at an early age, watching his father be honored for his philanthropy only to turn around and lie to get what he wanted, cheat on his wife and abandon his children.
Sierra would soon be like the rest of the world—as out for herself as the next person, and all her sweet talk about saving souls would be a memory. That was human nature.
No, she was not his type in any way—except for that hot, intense, mutual attraction.
A scalding attraction he intended to pursue in spite of their differences, because it was obvious she felt it too. He intended to clear his calendar and spend some time at his ranch while she was there.
He had planned on being at the ranch this week, anyway, so it would work out well with her starting Monday.
Then he would find out if that mutual attraction was a first-meeting fluke—or something more.
* * *
Sunday afternoon Sierra watched from her window as the plane lifted from the tarmac and gained altitude, revealing Kansas City spread below. Her gaze traveled around the plush interior of the aircraft with its luxurious reclining leather seats, tables between them, a magazine cabinet, a television screen and a laptop. The plane circled the city and headed south.
As she flew, she checked again to see that she had the phone numbers for two people she had worked with who now had their own New York agency. They had accepted her offer to work on Blake’s ranch house, and they would start Monday.
Eli Thompkins was a quiet presence and excellent at interior design. She had admired his work before she graduated and gotten into the business, and she would be happy to work with him.
Lucinda Wells had started as an interior designer at the same time as Sierra. She was talented, specializing in contemporary design. Eli and Lucinda would look for art, paintings and sculptures, as well as furnishings. Sierra had already given them a few suggestions.
She’d taken care of the donation details with Bert before she left. She tried to focus on all the wonderful improvements and opportunities Blake’s money would provide, but nothing could distract her from the tingly anticipation of seeing him again. Would she have the same sizzling reaction to him?
She hoped not, because that would complicate her job. Blake was far too cynical; his dismissal of her current work was proof of that. It was as if he was unable to see the goodness in others. She couldn’t understand his outlook on life, and he didn’t seem to understand hers. She needed to keep him out of her thoughts.
What was even worse, she hadn’t slept well because of dreams that included Blake—dreams she definitely didn’t want.
Had he felt anything when they’d met? Or had she imagined his response?
She suspected that by tomorrow morning she would have her answers.
Right on schedule, they touched down at Love Field in Dallas. She thanked the pilot and departed, crossing to the waiting white limo for another luxurious ride.
When they finally turned onto the ranch road, they passed beneath a wrought-iron arch with the name BC Ranch.
As they approached Blake’s house, she saw barns, outbuildings and a sprawling two-story stone ranch house that had to have cost a fortune. Slate roofs glistened in the sunlight, and she could spot the new wing because of construction equipment still in the yard. In front of the house sprinklers slowly revolved, watering the lawn and beds of early spring flowers bordering the porch.
As she remembered Blake’s midnight eyes and black hair, butterflies danced in her stomach. She hoped when they greeted each other she felt nothing except eagerness to start this job and gratitude for his donation.
The limo drove around the house, pulled beneath a portico and stopped. Blake stepped out and approached them. In jeans, a navy Western-style shirt and black boots, he looked like the successful rancher he was.
The driver opened her door and she stepped out of the limo. When she looked up into Blake’s brown eyes, she realized this job would not be as easy as she had hoped, because a sizzling current rocked her to her toes.
How was she going to work with this tall, handsome man without giving in to this attraction?
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