shouldn’t have lost her temper, but the man was so sure she was eager to fall at his feet in adoration.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she added sharply as he stared at her. “I’m not in admiration of your masculine charms. But I need a husband.”
He gave a low chuckle that shivered down her nerves as he wiped off the table. “That’s sure a unique approach, Miss Ford.”
“I’m serious!” she snapped.
That fascinating left brow slipped up toward his dark hair, but he was still grinning. “Yeah, and I’m the Easter bunny.”
Okay, so she hadn’t handled it right, but the man didn’t have to be sarcastic. She gritted her teeth and waited for him to stop laughing.
“I can offer you five thousand dollars,” she said grimly.
The mention of money seemed to sober him up. She’d thought it would. He didn’t have the look of a wealthy man. Mabel Baxter had told her he was trying to operate his ranch on a shoestring, doing most of the work himself.
He put down his fork and leaned forward. “Let me get this straight. You’re offering me five thousand dollars to marry you?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
She twisted her hands together. The explanation wasn’t as simple as the request. And a lot depended on her convincing the stranger across from her to agree to her proposal. “It’s complicated.”
“Getting married always is.”
His drawl carried a note of bitterness.
“You’ve been married before?”
He gave a brief nod.
“Do you have children?” That would really make things complicated.
“Nope. I’m not cut out to be a father.” He put more pie on his fork. “You’re not going to surprise me again, are you?”
The twinkle of humor in his brown eyes was reassuring. When she shook her head no, he even smiled, which made him more handsome.
“Um, the reason I need to marry is to get custody of my niece and nephew.” If the man didn’t like kids, he probably wouldn’t agree. Why hadn’t Mabel said anything? She knew why Megan was looking for a husband.
His chewing slowed, as if he was considering her explanation. After swallowing, he leaned forward. “Where are their parents?”
Her eyes filled with tears. After all, it had only been a few months since she’d lost her sister. “My…my sister’s dead.”
“And her husband?”
Husband. That word had once meant good things to her. Until Drake Moody had come into her sister’s life. “He’s in prison.”
She could tell her abrupt answer had surprised him, but at least he didn’t lose any food. He put his fork down and stared at her. Finally, he said, “Looks to me like you won’t have much competition for guardianship.”
She pressed her lips tightly together before drawing a deep breath. Then she forced herself to relax. “He’ll get out soon. And he’ll come after them. Mr. Gibbons said I’d stand a better chance if I’m married.”
“Mac? You talked to Mac?”
“Yes, Dr. Gibbons’s husband.”
“He’s good.”
“Yes.” She knew the man was a good attorney. He’d been honest with her, not offering false promises. That’s why she’d made the desperate move of asking this man to marry her.
“Well? What’s your answer?” she prodded, staring at him.
RICK BLEW OUT his breath, leaning back against the booth. She wanted an answer now? Automatically, a no rose in his throat. After all, he’d tried marriage once. Who would consider a second marriage? Not him.
“I might be able to come up with another twenty-five hundred,” she said, pleading with her blue eyes.
He shook his head, frowning. The money didn’t matter. Not that he could tell her that. Someone might discover his secret. Which made his answer hard to explain.
“I’ve been married once. I don’t want to do that again.”
“We’re not talking about a real marriage. It would be a marriage on paper. We’d stay married until I get the children. Then…then we’ll get a divorce.”
“Won’t the courts be suspicious?” What was he doing, arguing with her?
“We…we might have to wait six months. I could ask Mr. Gibbons.”
Damn, he didn’t want to tell her no. Those blue eyes tugged at his heart. “Look, we’d have to live together. You don’t want to do that.”
“We…we can give you your own room. I’ll take the children in with me and—”
“Lady, I have to live on the ranch. I have a lot of work to do. I can’t live in town.” Okay, here was his out. He’d given himself a year to prove himself. He had four months to go.
“Do you have a house?”
“Yeah.” He had a big old house, made for families. Too much house for him. He didn’t have the time to clean it. He barely kept the kitchen decent. Maybe decent was too nice a word. But he couldn’t afford a housekeeper. Not on his present budget. Things had cost more than he’d thought.
“We could move into your house. We’d be quiet. We wouldn’t cause you any trouble.”
She was desperate, he realized. So desperate she was on the verge of tears. Walking away from Megan Ford would be hard to do. He’d be haunted forever by those big blue eyes.
“What kind of coffee do you make?”
She blinked several times. “What kind? I…I usually grind my own beans. I like—”
“Grind your own beans? Are you serious?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Tell me you can cook, too.”
She gave him a befuddled stare. “Yes, though not as good as my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“There’s four of us. Me and my mother and the two kids. But two rooms would be enough. I promise we wouldn’t take up much space.”
“Can you clean house?”
“I don’t—why are you asking me these questions?”
“I need a housekeeper and I can’t afford to hire one.” The idea that had struck him sent a surge
