Do You Take This Enemy?

by Sara Orwig

  “How’s that?” he asked while his brows arched with curiosity.

  “Bringing your son. He’s adorable.”

  Something sparked in Gabe’s eyes, and he inhaled deeply. “You don’t know that. You only said hello. He could be a little terror.”

  “Little children aren’t terrors,” she replied promptly.

  “When have you been around any?”

  “My younger cousins. I volunteered to teach Sunday school and to coach soccer when I was in Chicago. I like kids.”

  “You’re making me like my proposition even more,” he said, moving closer and reaching out to touch her arm lightly. “If you’re seven months along, do you know what you’re having?”

  “Yes. A girl.”

  “Ahh. That’s nice. Boy or girl—it’s great. Except I know a little more about boys. But I can learn,” he said, smiling at her, and she shook her head.

  “You’re irrepressible,” she said.

  “I’m surprised that you wanted to meet here, where any neighbor who passes will see a Brant talking to a Ryder and start all kinds of rumors.”

  Electrified by his touch, she stepped back slightly.

  His brow arched, and he gave her a look that made her whole body tingle. “It bothers you to stand close to me?”

  “I’m not accustomed to being around Brants,” she said, knowing it was a ridiculous answer, but she didn’t want to admit how much he disturbed her.

  He reached out again to stroke her arm lightly with his finger. “This is an interesting surprise, Ashley,” he said softly, his voice growing husky. “We have some kind of chemistry between us.”

  His dark eyes were full of curiosity, and she flushed. “It doesn’t outweigh all our family history of feuding,” she replied.

  A faint smile curved one corner of his mouth and his long-lashed, bedroom eyes snapped with interest. “I disagree. I think it snuffs out any idea of feuding with you. No, when I get around you, feuding is not what I want to do,” he drawled in a sexy tone that made her pulse jump another notch.

  She leaned closer to him. “You know what I think? I think you’re trying to sweet-talk me into this marriage you’re proposing. You may forget about the Brant-Ryder history, but I can’t.”

  “Now I find that a real challenge—to see if I can make you forget about the feud,” he said softly.

  She knew he was flirting, and, while it was exciting, at the same time she was suspicious of his motives. There was too much at stake, and in five generations, no Ryder had ever trusted a Brant.

  “It’s absolutely impossible for me to forget.”

  “We’ll see,” he said with amusement dancing in his eyes. “Did you think about what I said?”

  “I’m thinking about it.” She would never admit that she couldn’t put him or his proposal out of her thoughts.

  “Good.” His gaze swept over her. “You sure have changed since high school.”

  “You didn’t know me in high school,” she said. “You’d already gone off to college.”

  “I was home at a couple of parties—I saw you around town. We just didn’t speak. You were a skinny kid with braces—you’ve grown up into a beautiful woman.”

  “Thank you, but you can save the compliments.”

  “Did you tell your dad about my proposal?”

  She was looking into dark eyes that nailed her with their forcefulness. He was too close, too masculine, too sinfully handsome. She could detect his aftershave, and facing him at this range was more disturbing than ever.

  “Yes, I did. He was furious and appalled.”

  “But you know I have a proposition that’s worth considering, don’t you? Admit the truth now.”

  “Yes, I do,” she snapped.

  “Go to dinner with me tomorrow night so we can discuss marriage.”

  “I don’t want to go out to dinner and start all kinds of wild rumors. This whole thing is impossible,” she replied, feeling butterflies at the thought of a date with him. She clamped her lips closed, turning to reach for her pickup door.

  His hand shot out and held the door closed. “Now just calm down and let’s talk a minute.” His breath blew against her nape and he stood so close behind her that she could feel the heat of his body. As she looked at the tanned wrist and hand that held her door closed, her pulse skittered.

  She turned around. “Move away.”

  He studied her, and her heart drummed. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, she couldn’t even breathe. “Move back and give me room,” she said, placing her hand on his chest to push lightly. It was a tactical error because the instant she touched his muscled chest, tingles raced through her and the curiosity in his eyes shifted to blatant desire. She yanked her hand away.

  “My, oh my, this is a surprise,” he drawled softly. “You and I have some wild attraction going here.”

  “It’s purely physical,” she said, but all force had gone out of her voice. He still stood too close to her, and she hoped he couldn’t hear her thudding heart.

  “Might be purely physical, but it’s damned powerful. Too powerful to ignore, I can tell you that.” He touched her hair, pulling free the ribbon that held it behind her neck. “You grew up to be a real beauty.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t believe your compliments are sincere.”

  Again, she saw that flash of amusement in his expression. To her relief he stepped to one side, leaning a shoulder against her pickup, looking relaxed, sexy and curious.

  “Let’s go to dinner and talk about my proposal,” he suggested. “We can go to San Antonio. It’s a big enough city that we can find a spot where no one will know us.”

  “This is so absurd. I don’t know why I’m listening to you.”

  “Because you’re intelligent and you know I’m making a good offer. You’re listening because when we get near each other, both of us almost go up in flames. Which surprises me as much as it does you.”

  “Will you stop!”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “I have all sorts of reasons why this would benefit you. I just want a chance to present my case. And don’t tell me a Ryder can’t exist in proximity to a Brant. What do you think goes on at rodeos and cattle sales? I’ve rubbed elbows with your kin, including your dad. We don’t like it, but we do it. We can talk without bringing down the wrath of our kinfolk. Now, how about tomorrow night?”

  She debated only a few seconds because she was intrigued and she knew there was a possibility of solving a lot of problems for her father. “Yes, I’ll go with you to dinner.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up around seven. Will your father let me set foot on the place?”

  “Yes, if I want you to.”

  “So I don’t have to wear my gun?”

  “Don’t you dare be packing!” she gasped.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t keep from teasing you,” he said, touching her cheek while his dark eyes twinkled. “I’ll be there in my best suit at seven, and we’ll go to San Antonio so we won’t see anyone we know. That suits me fine, too.”

  “Have you ever not gotten your way?”

  “Yes,” he replied. She heard the harsh note in his voice while his expression became solemn.

  “Well, what happened? That must have been a dilly.”

  “When my wife got pneumonia and died. When my folks died.”

  “Your wife and your parents?” She could hear the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Yeah. See you at seven at your house.” He turned away and in long strides went around his pickup.

  “Gabe,” she said, hurrying after him, too aware of using his first name. “Let me tell Julian goodbye.” She moved past Gabe, going to the back of the pickup.

  “Wow, you have a lot of cars,” she said, leaning over the side of the pickup. “Which one is your favorite?”

  Julian held up a blue one. As she talked to him about his cars, she felt Gabe standing nearby, watching and listening to her. After a few minutes, she smiled at
Julian.

  “I have to go now, Julian. It was nice to meet you.”

  “Thank you. It was nice to meet you,” he said politely and she turned to look at Gabe.

  “You’ve taught him well,” she told him.

  “I try. See you tomorrow night.”

  “Who takes care of Julian?”

  “I have a nanny,” he replied.

  She nodded and walked away, hearing him talk to his son. When she climbed into her pickup, Julian was buckled in again and Gabe had started the engine. Making a sweeping turn, he drove away while she watched. She was still surprised—tomorrow night she had a dinner date with Gabe Brant.

  The man ran roughshod over all her arguments. Marry him—it would be like getting a dictator in her life. They were strangers and already he was getting his way. And his flirting struck nerves. There was a chemistry between them. She was surprised he felt it, but she had felt it around him all her life.

  She threw up her hands. She had to tell Mrs. Farrin, which would be bad, but telling her father about her dinner date would be much worse.

  That night as they ate thick steaks, Ashley set down her fork and braced for a storm. “Dad, I’m going out tomorrow night with Gabe Brant.”

  “Dammit, Ashley,” Quinn snapped, dropping his fork and frowning. “Why? You can’t consider a sham marriage or any kind of marriage to that man.”

  “I think I should hear his arguments,” she said quietly, torn between agreeing with her father and trying to do what was best for everyone.

  “You’re a grown woman now and a smart one, but you shouldn’t be going out with a Brant.”

  “It’s just a dinner date.”

  “I’ve heard talk from Gus and the men. He lost his wife last year and he lost both his parents the year before that. Now all he has on his mind is expanding his ranch—with our land!”

  “What happened to his parents?” Ashley asked, curious, yet wanting to avoid asking Gabe.

  “Old Thomas died of a heart attack, probably because he was meaner than sin. Brant’s mother had cancer, I think. But don’t go feeling sorry for the man. They say he’s hard as granite. I’m sure he’s like his dad.” Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s he taking you? How do you know you’ll even be safe with him?”

  “I’ll be safe,” Ashley answered, smiling. “I have my cell phone and besides, he doesn’t want my body. Like you said, he just wants my land.”

  “Don’t do this, Ashley. I hate the thought of you going out with him,” Quinn grumbled. “I can take care of myself and this ranch. We’ve just had a little setback. Marry him! The man has nerve. I’d like to take my shotgun and run him off the place and forget it.”

  “I don’t think that would be good for your blood pressure,” Ashley responded dryly. “I wish you wouldn’t even think about it.”

  “I think it would make me feel immensely better to run him off our ranch. I don’t want you to go out with him.”

  “And I don’t want to go, but I think I should hear him out. His offer may hold possibilities,” she reminded him, feeling as if she were arguing with herself instead of her father.

  “Ashley, to be caught up in a marriage—any marriage—would still be hellish. That means dealing every day with someone you can’t stand to be around.”

  “I might manage to stand to be around him,” she answered quietly, thinking how sparks flew between them when they were together.

  Her father swore softly and she felt torn between conflicting needs. “I can’t stop you,” he admitted.

  “It’s just a dinner. Only a few hours and I’ll be back home.”

  Her father stared beyond her and shook his head. He tossed down his napkin. “I have to get outside and walk around while I think about this.”

  “Please don’t worry. Forty-eight hours from now the time with him will be history.”

  As Quinn left the room, Ashley rubbed her pounding head. She was half tempted to cancel the dinner date, but then she thought about her dad’s health, the debt that was accumulating, and she knew she had to go out with Gabe.

  After breakfast the next morning she went to her room and looked at her clothes. She waded through her dresses and finally decided on a dark blue, high-waisted sheath dress. Something simple and dark. She wanted to wear a hood over her head. The world grew smaller daily and the chances of running into someone they knew loomed large to her.

  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.

  Three

  Gabe looked handsome in his dark-blue suit, a white shirt and dark-blue tie. “I’m here,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her, sending tingles racing over her nerves.

  “Great. I told Dad I’d bring you back to say hello. He isn’t looking forward to it, and I’m sure neither are you.”

  Gabe entered and closed the door behind him. “Maybe it’s time for the Brants and the Ryders to bury the hatchet.”

  “I rather agree, but when it’s a more-than-a-hundred-year-old family history, you can’t switch feelings off like turning off a light,” she said.

  “I don’t know,” he drawled. “You’re going to make it easy for me to forget the feud.”

  Ashley looked up at him and was caught in another intense, solemn gaze that made her heart skip a beat. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it easy for you to do that.”

  “Oh, y
es, you do, but we’ll pursue that later. Let me see your dad.”

  She led the way to the family room. “Dad, you know Gabe Brant.”

  “Evening, sir,” Gabe said, extending his hand. Both men looked as if they were ready to fight, and she wanted to hurry things along and get out of the house.

  “This is a bunch of damn foolishness, Mr. Brant,” her father snapped, refusing to shake hands. Gabe’s eyes narrowed, and she could feel the animosity sizzling between them.

  “I hope not. I have a proposition, actually a business offer. If you want to meet with me and let me talk to you about it, too, I’ll be glad to anytime.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t know why Ashley is going with you now. It’s by the grace of her arguments that I’m not running you off our property.”

  Gabriel Brant was withstanding her father’s wrath without a flinch. She just wanted to get the two separated.

  “Can we go now and get this over with?” she asked.

  “Fine,” Gabe replied. “We’ll be back early.”

  “You better be. My daughter is seven months pregnant.”

  “I know that, sir. I’ll take good care of her.”

  Ashley wanted to shake her fist at him. “You don’t have to take care of me,” she snapped under her breath.

  He shot her a glance before he nodded to her father. “Good night, Mr. Ryder. I appreciate the time Ashley is giving me.”

  As they went out the front door, she knew her father was trailing after them. He stood in the doorway watching them as they drove away in Gabe’s black car.

  Gabe glanced at her. “Well, we got through that without anyone being any worse for the exchange. Your dad held his temper mighty well. And I held mine.”

  “You’ll hold your temper because you’re the one after something.”

  “True.” He glanced at her. “You look pretty.”

  “Thank you, but you can skip the compliments,” she replied coolly.

  “Don’t sound so huffy. I’m still amazed how much you’ve changed since you were a kid.”

  “You told me how you remember me—skinny, braces,” she remarked dryly.