by Sara Orwig
“Probably, unless things come up that are more urgent.”
Surprised, he glanced at her, realizing again that he didn’t have any acquaintances like her. Neither his friends nor his family would put a charity project over repairing a leaky roof. She was a marvelous interior decorator, but he couldn’t fathom her views of the world, her preferences. Again, he wondered how long this career would last for her. She would discover the reality of human nature and return to her old career. She would change, he had no doubts, but until then, her rosy view fascinated and confused him.
Hot chemistry or not, she was definitely not his type, and he knew with absolute certainty he wasn’t hers. He needed to stop thinking about her lips.
“You have an adjoining bedroom and bath, and if you’ll come with me, next door is the office.”
She laughed softly. “It’s bigger and better equipped, and far nicer than mine at the nonprofit. I might not go home.” He saw the twinkle in her eyes and smiled at her.
“Nice office or not, I suspect you’ll be ready to go when the time comes. Some who have a city background don’t like the ranch after a few days. Or sooner—it’s too quiet and isolated for them. Wear boots or take care when you’re outside—we have rattlesnakes.”
He waved his hand. “You have four computers with extra-large monitors, a copy machine, scanner, fax, a laptop, an iPad, a drawing board. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“I think that covers what I might need, and I brought my own iPad.” She turned to face him. “Blake, I want to look at the rooms we’re talking about so I have an idea what I’ll be dealing with. I’ve hired two talented people. When I unpack I’ll give you their cards and a brochure about their agencies. Right now, they’ll work out of New York, but they’ll fly out here as we get to the later stages. That will mean they will need to stay nearby—”
“They can stay right here. There is plenty of room in this house and there are two guest houses. If you need or want anything, just tell me, or if I’m not here, tell Wendell.”
A man knocked lightly on the door. He wore a black shirt, jeans and Western boots as he entered with her carry-on and a small bag.
“Perfect timing, Wendell. Sierra, this is Wendell Strong, who keeps the house running. Wendell, meet Ms. Benson, our decorator for the new wing.”
After they exchanged greetings, Wendell set down her things. As he did, Blake added, “Wendell does a lot of jobs—butler and valet, but basically he’s my house manager. With the exception of the cook, he manages my house staff and the gardener. His wife, Etta, is my cook.”
“I’m glad to meet you, and thank you, Wendell, for getting my bags,” Sierra said, smiling at him as he nodded and left.
“Have dinner here with me tonight,” Blake said. “Etta has cooked all afternoon, so I hope when the time comes, you’re hungry. I thought you might want to settle in now and catch your breath after the flight and drive. If you’ll come down about six, we can have a drink and relax a bit before dinner. After dinner I’ll show you the new wing.”
“Sounds good, Blake,” she replied. “One other thing—we have a big picnic at home Saturday, so I’m flying back to Kansas City on Friday afternoon.”
“Sure. I’ll take care of the flight arrangements for you.” He walked to the door and managed not to turn around and take one last look.
* * *
As Sierra unpacked her few belongings, she couldn’t keep from comparing the ranch house to her condo, which was large enough to be comfortable for her, but not too big, and she thought about the home where she grew up with her five siblings.
Her family’s two-story house had been large enough for her big family, kid friendly and nothing fancy. Always a place any of them could bring their friends, their house was usually filled with company. Many meals had included twelve to fifteen around their table.
Now, because of her work with Brigmore, she interacted daily with people who needed help, and helping them seemed so much more important than jobs like this one for Blake. They were good people who had had misfortune—illness or just bad luck. He was cynical, yet ironically, his money would be such a help. Most people would appreciate the help, and use it to make their lives better, something Blake didn’t seem to believe.
She needed to get this job done and get back to Kansas City. She was attracted to Blake to a degree she had never been attracted to another man before. He hadn’t done one thing to cause the attraction other than be himself, but she knew he felt it as much as she did.
His handsome looks and sexy appeal took her breath. While he seemed laid-back and easygoing, his air of supreme confidence was so strong it was almost tangible. He was sure of himself, accustomed to getting what he wanted, and it showed in his attitude, his demeanor and his walk. His assurance was obvious when he entered a room.
To her relief, he had been impersonal, businesslike, since her arrival. She hoped that didn’t change. She appreciated him not flirting or trying to charm her. She hoped she could stay businesslike, too.
Yes, she’d agreed to dinner tonight, but after this getting-to-know you session, she hoped to spend as little time around him as possible. When she thought of the enormous check he had given her to get her to take this job, a staggering amount, she had to wonder what was behind that offer. Why had he wanted her that badly? She might have once been good at interior decorating, but so were others.
Feeling suspicious about his motives, she hoped he had paid that much for purely business reasons. She couldn’t keep from thinking about the CEO she’d worked for previously. She had been an executive ready to move up when he had propositioned her, promising to make her a vice president if she would become his mistress. She hadn’t seen that coming from him and he had held no sexual appeal.
His startling offer had shaken her judgment in men and angered her. Unlike with her CEO, a physical attraction had existed between her and Blake from the first second they had met.
She would have dinner with him tonight, get the layout of the new wing and find out what he wanted and then, hopefully, he would go on about his business. He didn’t look the type to hover.
She showered and changed, dressing in a skirt, a matching red silk shirt and high-heeled pumps. She tied her hair behind her head with another silk scarf and went downstairs to meet him at six.
As she walked down the curving stairs, she saw him stop at the foot to wait. And watch her.
His dark gaze made her tingle. Taking him in at a glance, she smiled at him. He had changed, too. He wore jeans, boots and a different short-sleeve shirt that emphasized his dark, handsome looks.
“You don’t look as if you’ve traveled most of the day. You look as fresh as the proverbial daisy,” he said.
“Traveling in your private jet and a limo was not difficult or tiring. Both were about as comfortable as one can get,” she said, falling into step beside him.
“Want to look around a little, or wait until later?” he asked.
“Now’s fine so I’ll have some idea where things are located and what kind of house you have.”
“Let’s go to the formal living area. It’s rarely used, but I felt I needed it, and I know my mother would have been unhappy if we didn’t have it.”
“Does she entertain here?”
“Never on her own, but she’s been hostess for me a few times. More in the past, when I first moved out here. This is it,” he said, and she walked through double doors into a room with a marble floor, elegant furniture and chairs upholstered in deep blue antique satin and brocade. Ornate, gilt mirrors and original oils of landscapes hung on the walls. The vaulted ceiling was two stories high, and floor-to-ceiling glass comprised a wall of windows overlooking the front drive.
“This is beautiful, Blake.”
“Thanks. The formal dining room adjoins this room,” he said, motioning toward more wide double doors that were open. They entered a room with a large ornate crystal chandelier centered over a gleaming fruitwood dining table that co
uld easily seat two dozen people.
Silver candelabra sat on a buffet with a sterling tea set. The stone fireplace and hearth were flanked by paintings of hunting scenes.
“This is another beautiful room.”
“This one has been used more than that front room. I seem to have more dinner parties, although most of them are casual, the patio and backyard type. Much easier for everyone, and the food is still Etta’s cooking.”
“I think the cooking is what everyone remembers,” she said.
They moved through a study, a library filled with books that he had not read, and she laughed with him over his plans to read them someday. He showed her a downstairs bedroom that had more ancient, beautiful furniture—old-fashioned, heavy pieces, hand carved and made of mahogany, including a four-poster bed.
“This is absolutely gorgeous, Blake.”
“I think it’s time for a drink, and later we can continue the tour. I have three more bedrooms on this floor, an office on the ground floor and another smaller one adjoining my bedroom upstairs. Let’s go to the sitting room across the back. There’s a bar and it’s more comfortable.”
She walked beside him into a room filled with light thanks to more floor-to-ceiling glass. It overlooked a patio, a garden and a kidney-shaped swimming pool of crystal blue water with a waterfall.
When he crossed to the bar, she scooted onto a stool across the counter from him.
“This is quite a contrast to your Dallas life,” she said, gazing outside and seeing unending fields beyond his fenced yard.
“I love this place, and I need the ranch life. You’ve switched from New York City to Kansas City—still cities, but that’s a switch.”
“It’s quieter, and I love my work now far more than what I was doing.”
“I don’t see how you can. You could have opened your own design firm, but now all your energy goes to people who won’t thank you for it. You’ll see. These people you help will just want more help again—no one really changes. This,” he said, motioning to the expanse of his ranch home, “is where you can do something that will really last and be appreciated. You seem to have deep beliefs about how good people are—I’m sorry to say, you’ll be disillusioned eventually.”
“Blake, you’re a cynical man. Look for the goodness in people. Believe in it, and you’ll find it.”
He smiled at her indulgently.
“You’re looking at me as if you’re going to pat me on the head and try to set me straight on what people are really like.”
“That’s a thought.” He laughed.
She watched his hands as he poured drinks. He had fine, strong hands, which were probably good for ranch work. Maybe the isolation of this spread was what he preferred because he had a warped view of the world and a poor opinion of people in general.
When he held out a glass of pale white wine, she reached to take it, her fingers touching his lightly. He looked up, his gaze meeting hers. “Thanks,” she said, taking her drink and sliding off the bar stool to cross the room and look at his pool. But she didn’t see the water as questions swirled in her thoughts. Why did she have this intense reaction to him? Worse, why did he feel the chemistry, too?
“Running away from me?” he asked in a deeper tone as he joined her.
Startled, she met his probing gaze and wondered how long this reaction to him would continue. She didn’t want to try to guess what he was thinking at the moment. It was impossible to miss the blatant look of desire in the depths of his brown eyes.
“We better stick to talking about business,” she replied, wishing she didn’t sound so breathless. How could she have this reaction to him when he wasn’t doing anything to cause it, and when they held such opposing views of the world?
“Blake, we’re not going there,” she whispered.
Suddenly, he looked mildly amused, which shattered the intensity of the moment. “Not going where, Sierra?” Exasperation pricked her.
“You know where. I don’t know why we have this chemistry between us, but we need to ignore it, avoid it and hope it will go away because I’m sure you don’t want to feel it any more than I do.”
“I’m hurt,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “I didn’t know I was such an ogre that you don’t want to find me attractive.”
“Right now, you’re moving into an area where neither of us should go,” she snapped, losing her usual good nature and patience. She was on edge because of her reaction to him, and his sudden flirting was only adding fuel to the fire.
He laughed softly. “Relax, Sierra. I know our relationship is a professional one, but while you’re living here, we might as well indulge in some unbusinesslike moments.”
With an effort, she smiled and tried to bank her impatience with him. He had made light of that intense moment, and she was certain it had meant nothing to him. She wanted him to feel that it meant nothing to her, too. She had no intention of letting him know the extent of the edgy, sharp physical awareness she had of him as a sexy, attractive male.
She suspected a man like Blake did not need any coaxing to entice him into a physical relationship. She was certain he had attracted females from a young age and was fully aware of the effect he had on women.
“If that big check you gave me included anything besides the design work you described in my office, then the deal’s off.”
Instantly the amusement left his expression. “Hey, Sierra. Absolutely not. My teasing was in fun and meant nothing.”
She realized her reaction had been too strong. Her past biased her. She tried to relax, getting them back on a casual, friendly footing. “I don’t know you well at all. Just making sure we understand each other,” she said, smiling at him.
“Good. Have a seat. Etta is in the kitchen, and Wendell is helping her get dinner on the table. I’ll introduce you to her. She’s a fantastic cook, which always makes it easy to come home.”
“You think of the ranch as home,” she said a few moments later, after they’d stepped outside and were sitting in chairs facing his patio.
“I told you that I love it here. This is my haven. I can come out here and enjoy the total silence. Sometimes you hear the wind, and sometimes you don’t even hear that. For a few minutes I can imagine the whole world is at peace. Even if it’s not, my little corner of it is.” He grinned. “Obviously, I like the ranch and I’m happiest here.”
“You’re fortunate. Far luckier than you give much thought to. I work with people daily who don’t have a haven, not even a tiny one. Then, there are those who surprise me—one would think they couldn’t possibly feel at peace because they own nothing, but they have an inner sense of a haven. That’s resilience, and it’s amazing.”
“You really like working with those people, don’t you?” he asked, looking more intently at her. He sounded surprised.
“More than anything. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world to help someone, or rescue an animal and find it a loving home, or make someone’s life easier. That’s the best possible reward.”
“That’s commendable, but in my experience people don’t change. You can work your fingers to the bone and not make a difference. With the career you had, there were some very tangible financial rewards and lasting legacies. You could have built your own business instead of working with people who will disappoint and deceive you.”
“You have a cynical view of the world. Expect more from people, Blake. There’s a deep-rooted goodness in most people. Look for that and believe in it.”
“I’m just puzzled. You’ve tossed over a spectacular, successful career, a fabulous reputation and a hefty income for something that will take infinite patience, probably have low financial returns and be a lot of hard work that sometimes goes unappreciated and unrewarded.”
“Wow, Blake. That’s strong. You’re only looking at the downside of what I do.”
“Just looking at it honestly because I can’t understand your great faith in the goodness of human nature.”
“I don�
��t know what you’ve experienced, but I have seen that people are good and can live up to high expectations, or occasionally exceed them. Look at you. You don’t need money, yet you work hard to build your hotel business.”
He looked away and was silent a moment. She noticed a muscle flex in his jaw and wondered why her question caused him to tense up.
“I want to know that I can be a success in the business world as well as in the ranching world. We all have our goals.”
Wendell appeared, wearing a white apron over his jeans. “Dinner is served.”
“Thank you.” Blake stood. “Leave your wine. There will be some poured at the table.”
She walked with him toward the front of the house, and then they turned into the wide hall. In minutes Wendell directed them to a kitchen that was big enough to hold her Kansas City apartment, but the tempting smell of beef assailed her before she ever stepped inside. Doors stood open to reveal stainless steel appliances and state-of-the-art cookware that, when not in use, would be out of sight behind the elegant dark wood. A tall, slender woman with her brown hair clipped at the back of her head, smiled. Etta wore a white apron over a black uniform.
“Sierra, this is Etta Strong, my cook. Etta, this is Ms. Benson, who is here to plan the decor for our new wing.”
“So what’s for dinner tonight?” he asked as soon as the women had greeted each other.
“Tossed salad with chunks of lobster, slices of avocado on the side and French dressing. Prime rib, asparagus hollandaise, mashed potatoes and gravy and buttermilk biscuits. With homemade peach ice cream,” Etta answered.
“That sounds like a fabulous banquet,” Sierra remarked.
“When you’re seated, I’ll get you started.”
As Sierra walked with Blake to the adjoining informal dining area, she had another view of gardens and his irrigated yard, and marveled at the luxury of his lifestyle. She was thankful again for his check, and after their earlier conversation, she knew he needed to see some of the good his money would do.
They sat at a table that could easily seat ten. Wendell came with a bottle of red wine and one of white. He asked Sierra her choice and tipped red into her glass before pouring Blake’s.