The Inheritance Read online

  Rafe laughed under his breath in response. Holding Bethany in the crook of his arm, the velvet box in the same hand, he used his free one to extricate Greer’s hair from Bethany’s grasp. For a baby, Bethany had a pretty strong grip. Like her dad, Rafe thought, sadness spearing him.

  He took a step back in case Bethany tried to make another grab for Greer. The hair she’d clutched remained all stuck together.

  He grinned. “I think you might want to wash that. Looks like Alyssa gave her something sticky to play with just before she brought her over.”

  “Terrific,” Greer muttered.

  Gingerly, she ran her fingers over the strand of hair that had been rescued. Rafe was right. It was decidedly sticky. Candy sticky. She probably looked like something straight out of a Halloween night, Greer thought glumly. Battling mushrooming embarrassment, Greer tried to smooth down the stiff strand of hair with her hand and knew she was probably only making things worse. She couldn’t wait to get back to her hotel room and take a hot shower. An extra-long hot shower to work all this tension out of her shoulders. Not to mention the rest of her.

  “Maybe you’d like to wash your hands,” he suggested. Not waiting for an answer, Rafe led the way to his bedroom. Opening the door, he kicked aside the pair of jeans he’d left on the floor. “Bathroom’s right through there.” He pointed toward the open door at the far end of the room.

  “Thanks.”

  Walking into the room, she was exceedingly conscious of being in a man’s bedroom. It wasn’t something she was even remotely familiar with. The only men she had come in contact with until recently all wore three-piece suits and faced her across a boardroom table, not a bedroom.

  She tried not to pay attention to the rumpled, unmade bed with its comforter dripping down onto the floor, or the thought of Rafe being in it. She tried even harder to ignore the jeans he’d kicked aside, the ones he’d stripped off earlier and left on the floor on his way to the shower.

  Despite her efforts, the maleness of the room insisted on assaulting her from all sides.

  Washing her hands quickly, Greer hurried away from the intimate surroundings as soon as she could, before their impression could have a chance to sink in any further than it already had.

  When she returned to the living room, she found Rafe sitting on the sofa. Oblivious to her, he was busy playing with the baby.

  She couldn’t help noting how at ease he seemed. His legs crossed, he was holding Bethany on one knee and jostling her in a simulated pony ride that had the little girl shrieking with delight.

  He seemed like the perfect father, she thought. Just showed how initial impressions were deceiving. Seeing him earlier, she would have said that the only place the man could have been at ease was in a saddle.

  Or a woman’s bed.

  The thought snuck up on her, making her cheeks warm before she had a chance to shake it off. Terrific, she thought disdainfully, they were probably pink again. He was going to think she was some kind of trembling, backward vestal virgin.

  He glanced up and realized that Greer had walked back into the room and was watching him. Ending the impromptu pony ride, he rose to his feet. With Bethany in his arms, he walked over to a playpen in the corner. Tucked into an alcove that doubled as a makeshift study, complete with a small, second-hand desk, it was almost out of sight.

  Looking at it, Greer thought the playpen seemed completely out of place within the very masculine room.

  “You stay here for a few minutes, honey,” he told the baby. Turning his attention back to Greer, Rafe held out the velvet box he’d gotten from his room. “Here, if you’re going to pretend to be my fiancée, I think you might need this.”

  Greer had no idea why she felt so nervous taking the box from him. After all, this was just pretend. She opened it, and even though it was a typical ring box, she was still surprised when she found herself looking down at the contents.

  “It’s a ring.”

  For just a moment, she’d looked like a little girl, afraid of being disappointed at Christmas as she opened the one gift that mattered, he thought.

  “Sure it’s a ring.” He drew a little closer to her, intrigued by her expression. “What did you think it was going to be, a washer?”

  “No, but—” Astonished, she raised her eyes to his face. “It’s an engagement ring.”

  She left the rest unspoken, but it was clear that she was having trouble understanding why a cowboy would just happen to have an engagement ring sitting around in his bedroom.

  He wasn’t sure if he should be taking offense or not. “Yes, so?”

  Exasperation flittered through her. Why did he insist on dragging things out? He knew what she was asking him. “So what’s a cowboy on a horse ranch in the middle of Nevada doing with an engagement ring in his bedroom bureau?”

  “It was in the nightstand,” he corrected her. He saw impatience crease her brow and got a kick out of it. “And civilization has managed to reach here.”

  She blew out a breath. She wasn’t trying to insult him; she was just trying to make sense out of this.

  “That’s not what I meant. Most people don’t just ‘happen’ to have engagement rings lying around.” And then the answer hit her. She’d put her foot into it, hadn’t she? It wouldn’t be the first time. When it came to her private life, social skills were not exactly high on her list of accomplishments. “Did you…I mean did someone…?”

  Damn it, he’d been engaged, she realized, and something had gone wrong and now she was making things worse by artlessly prodding. Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone? She flushed. Her tongue always seemed to fail her when it came to private matters.

  He’d never seen that shade of red on a woman’s face before.

  “No, no one jilted me, if that’s what you’re getting at. I won the ring in a poker game.” He saw her embarrassment ebb away, replaced by a touch of suspicion. He could guess what she was thinking. “Don’t worry, it’s real. The guy I won it from was the jilted one. Actually, his woman ran off with someone else before he ever had a chance to give it to her properly. He figured hanging on to the ring brought him bad luck.” That had been Albert’s story, but it had come after the man had had more than his share to drink. Rafe laughed shortly under his breath. “At least it did that night when he was playing poker.”

  Greer stared at the orphaned engagement ring for a long moment, words failing her. It was beautiful. Small, it twinkled like a perfect star that had fallen out of the sky.

  “Well, don’t just keep staring at it, try it on.” Before she could, Rafe plucked the ring out of its velvet seat. Taking her left hand in his, he slid the ring on her finger. It went on easily. Rafe smiled. “How about that, it fits.”

  The moment he slipped the ring onto her finger, she could feel something tingling all through her body. Like magic.

  Silly thought, she upbraided herself. But the feeling didn’t go away.

  “Yes,” she answered quietly, “it does.”

  Their eyes met for a moment, and then he released her hand. He slid his own into his back pockets. “I guess it’s official, then. We’re engaged.”

  She forced a smile to her lips, her stomach churning. She started feeling an odd queasiness. “When’s the wedding?” When he looked at her in silence, she added, “That’s a joke.”

  “Yeah, but people are going to ask that.” He thought for a moment. “How about Valentine’s Day? Sounds like a good day to get married.”

  Valentine’s Day. Could he have come up with a more romantic thought? Not in her estimation. She looked at the man in amazement.

  “Yes, sure. Perfect day.”

  The words emerged in muted staccato beats as she looked back down at the gleaming globe of fire-light on her finger. The sunlight that filled the room pushed itself into the stone, shooting out beams of yellow, white and blue as she moved her outstretched hand.

  His mouth curved. To look at her, you would have thought that she’d never…
r />   Maybe she never had, he suddenly thought. Maybe there’d never been anyone special in this woman’s life, to make her feel special. Looking at Greer, he could believe it. The woman was plain, though he had to admit she had beautiful eyes.

  Well, whether or not she’d ever been engaged or married didn’t make any difference to him. He just needed her services long enough for the family court hearing—or until he got Megan Maitland to throw her support his way. He had a feeling her name could open up a lot of doors, make things easier. If that sounded a little cold, maybe it was, but he’d learned a long time ago that it was best to leave his conscience and emotions at the door when it came to getting necessary things done. They only got in the way in the long run.

  Trying hard to get this strange, unsettled feeling traveling through her under some kind of control, Greer dropped her hand to her side. But she fisted it so that she could run her thumb along the edge of the band just to assure herself that the ring was actually there.

  Part of her still felt that this was all just a little surreal. She looked at Rafe, summoning her best corporate demeanor, knowing that it was best to keep to business.

  “So if I go through with this, pretend to be your fiancée, you’re really going to come back to Austin with me? For Mrs. Maitland’s reunion?” she added.

  She knew she was repeating herself, but she wanted to make absolutely certain that there was no room for a misunderstanding. Or grounds for him to back down.

  With a sensible-looking woman like this at his side, the judge was certain to think he would make a stable home for Bethany, Rafe thought. “How soon would I have to leave?”

  Greer hesitated for a moment. She knew Mrs. Maitland’s preferences, but she wasn’t sure how they would go over with Rafe. “Actually, she was hoping to meet you as soon as possible.”

  Was the woman crazy? “This is September. Just how long a celebration was she planning?”

  But then, he supposed cynically, what else did rich people who didn’t have to work for a living have to do with themselves? She probably partied continually.

  Greer did her best to ignore the sarcasm in Rafe’s voice.

  “Mrs. Maitland realizes that you can’t just pick up and go somewhere for three months, but she was hoping you might be able to come to Austin for a short visit and then return for the reunion in December. She’d like you to meet the rest of the family.”

  Having pulled herself up onto her feet, Bethany was rattling the sides of her playpen, signaling that she thought she’d been ignored long enough. Rafe crossed to the little girl and bent over the playpen to pick her up. Only then did he turn to Greer.

  “Why?”

  He was being antagonistic again. She had thought they’d gotten past this part. Obviously not. Greer reverted to her role of chief assistant, leaving behind her own persona, the one that caused her to appear so ineffectual. It was a great deal easier for her to operate as if she were devoid of feelings.

  “Because family has always been extremely important to Mrs. Maitland. She understands what it’s like to be alone…”

  Rafe looked at her sharply. He had absolutely no patience with people who were given to pretense. “Yeah, right.”

  Greer immediately leaped to the defense of the woman she’d grown to admire so deeply in such a short amount of time. Megan Maitland was everything she’d ever wanted to be: confident, kind, generous and well respected in addition to being well liked.

  “No, really.” She followed Rafe and the baby to the sofa. “She’s lived through a great deal in her life and she didn’t always have it easy—”

  Rafe raised his eyebrows in mock sympathy. “What, the dilemma of which party to go to, what dress to wear to what ball?”

  The smirk on his face irritated her beyond words. Greer was surprised by her own reaction. She didn’t ordinarily become incensed so quickly. “You always ride around with that chip on your shoulder?”

  He began to tell her what she could do with her opinion but caught himself just in time. There was a baby present and he wasn’t about to use strong language around her. “Hey, any chips I have, I came by honestly.”

  “So did your aunt, except she doesn’t wear them.” Because he didn’t immediately jump in with a retort, she hurried to continue. “At seventeen, she was poorer than dirt and working for a living….”

  He was certain that this woman’s definition of poor differed from his own. Despite her colorful description, he had his doubts about how poor his aunt had been. After all, William Maitland wouldn’t have thrown his lot in with some waif or bimbo.

  “Well, she certainly has worked her way up into the lap of luxury, hasn’t she?”

  The irritated look on her face gave way to a knowing one. Rafe had lied to her when he’d claimed that he didn’t know who Megan Maitland or any of the Maitlands were. He’d just proved it.

  “Then you really do know who she is.”

  He didn’t like her tone. It insinuated that he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “I’ve already said so. And what if I have heard of Megan Maitland? It doesn’t change anything in my life.”

  That was just the point behind this reunion. “It might if you let it.”

  “Why?” he asked with a sneer, shifting Bethany to his other side. It was getting late and he had to get her to bed. “Is ‘Aunt’ Megan going to adopt me?”

  He knew it was counterproductive to his cause to assume the attitude he was taking, but he couldn’t help feeling somewhat contemptuous of the aunt who was summoning him now like a queen summoning some poor relation or peasant. What was her angle? In the world he’d grown up in, everyone had always had an angle or was looking to skim something off the top. His father had taught him that by word and example.

  Maybe it was her imagination, but Greer thought she detected just a strain of hurt beneath the contempt. It surprised her that Rafe and she could actually relate on some level. She knew all about being ignored.

  “No, but your aunt will make you feel as if you’re a part of something if you let her.”

  It occurred to Greer that the odds were more than likely that Rafe didn’t know he had a half brother and half sister, R.J. and Anna, the children his father had abandoned when his first wife had unexpectedly died in a car accident. Robert Maitland had left the two without any provision for their care. It was Megan and her husband William, Rafe’s uncle, who had taken the children in and eventually adopted them.

  It was on the tip of Greer’s tongue to tell him about them and Mrs. Maitland’s largesse, but then she stopped herself. Maybe telling him was something Mrs. Maitland wanted to handle on her own.

  So, instead, Greer gave him a tiny peek into her own world. “That’s what she did with me.”

  He wondered how much his aunt was paying this woman to sing her praises this way. “Oh, so now you’re part of the family, too?”

  Taking offense at the sarcasm wasn’t going to accomplish anything, Greer told herself, so she ignored it.

  “In a manner of speaking. Mrs. Maitland makes everyone feel at home, as if they’ve always been part of her world.” She knew how surprised she’d been that first day, when Megan had walked into her office and greeted her as if she were an old friend. Working with Mrs. Maitland had done nothing to diminish her enthusiasm for the woman. But Greer was also aware of the danger of overselling. “Look, you’re not going to be convinced until you meet her yourself and talk with her.”

  Maybe it was the long day, or the fact that his shoulder was aching, but Rafe simply didn’t have any patience with rehashing this a second time. “I already said I was going…”

  The look in his eyes was intimidating. Ordinarily, if she were speaking to him on her own behalf, Greer would have backed away long ago. But this was her job and she took anything associated with work very seriously. She reminded herself that that was what had almost caused her to have a nervous breakdown on her last job. Taking everything so seriously. Working as Mrs. Maitland’s assistant
was supposed to be a walk in the park.

  Looking into Rafe’s eyes, she found that the park’s path had temporarily and ominously gotten swallowed up in darkness.

  She stuck it out. “Yes, but I want you to give her a chance. Leave any prejudices behind and judge her fairly.”

  Rafe studied her for a minute. There had to be more than just her salary involved here. He wanted to know what. “What does it matter to you? Is there some kind of bonus for you for every breathing body you bring back to the fold?”

  “No, there’s no bonus.” She banked down the disgust she felt at the suggestion. Was everything about money to this man? “It matters to me because Mrs. Maitland is the most decent person I’ve ever met and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  Maybe she was on the level at that, he mused. “I don’t intend to hurt her, Greer. Hell, I’ll even salute her if she wants.”

  She took the comment at face value. “A simple hug would be more appreciated.”

  He wasn’t a hugger or a toucher, for that matter. There’d been no outward signs of affection in the house he’d grown up in, no casual pats or enthusiastic embraces. Just six people caged in one cell, marking time and looking to break free. Each one of them, except for Janelle, had struck out on their own the moment they legally could. Janelle had been the only one to celebrate her nineteenth birthday at home, but he’d be willing to make book that it hadn’t been out of any sort of filial loyalty.

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.” She’d said something about leaving now. Had that been on the level or an exaggeration? “How soon is my presence requested?”

  She knew Mrs. Maitland was anxious to meet with him. “As soon as you can get away.”

  Rafe paused, thinking as Bethany began to doze against his chest. Except for occasional days like today, it was the slow season at the ranch and he had more than enough vacation time accrued, never having taken more than a few days off in the last five years. There’d never been any real reason to until now.

  “I’ll talk to the boss,” he promised, lowering his voice so as not to disturb Bethany. “Where can I get in touch with you? I’m assuming you’re not going back to Austin until you have my head in your trophy bag.”