Do You Take This Enemy? (3 page)

Was what Gabriel Brant proposed absolutely unthinkable? It would be a paper arrangement. She ran her hand across her head. She couldn't trust a Brant. Old hurts plagued her as she remembered how she had trusted Lars,
a man she had thought she had known and loved. He had broken her trust and she had learned a bitter lesson.

An hour later, Ashley went to bed, but she tossed and turned and didn't sleep well. She kept seeing Gabriel Brant, legs crossed, leaning back against his pickup. And she kept remembering how, when she had met his dark eyes, her pulse had raced.

Finally she fell asleep but overslept the next morning. When she went to the kitchen, her father had already gone. Ashley fixed her breakfast and got out paint samples to pick colors for the nursery.

Fifteen minutes later, she realized her mind wasn't on colors. She was thinking about Gabriel Brant's proposition. He had a child. A son. She wondered about the little boy who had lost his mother when he was so young. Yet the marriage would be a business arrangement and nothing more. Gabe wouldn't make any demands on her. No emotions would be involved. Lawyers could protect her. She threw up her hands. How could such an arrangement work?

The phone rang and she crossed the room to pick it up.

“Ashley?” came a deep, masculine voice. “This is Gabe Brant. I'd like to see you again.”

“I
'd like to see you right away. I'll drive to your place. How's an hour from now?” Gabe asked.

Ashley closed her eyes and ran her fingers across her brow.

“Good. I'll be there,” he announced before she'd had time to answer. He hung up, and she was left with a dial tone.

“You don't believe in saying goodbye, do you?” She hadn't said much more than hello. She slammed down the receiver, glanced at her watch and went to her room to change her clothes. Then she became annoyed with herself for changing just because Gabriel Brant was coming.

Yesterday she'd had an intense, prickly awareness of him. She ran her fingers through her hair, and studied herself in the mirror. She was in a T-shirt, a denim jumper and sneakers. So be it. She combed her hair into a ponytail and went downstairs. Forty minutes later, she left the house
and climbed into one of the ranch pickups and headed toward the road.

Alongside the county road in the shade of a tall cottonwood, she parked by the mailbox, retrieved their mail and climbed onto a fender to sit and wait for him.

Right on time she saw his red pickup coming up the highway. Sliding off the fender, she watched as he slowed. To her surprise, she could see a small boy in the back seat. Gabe parked and climbed out. He wore a T-shirt and jeans. His thick, slightly wavy brown hair was neatly trimmed. Her pulse jumped at the sight of him. Brant or not, the man was good-looking. Her gaze slid past him and she watched the little boy and jump out of the truck to take his dad's hand. The child stopped in his tracks and studied her with large, dark-brown eyes that were as thickly lashed as his father's.

“Ashley, meet my son Julian.”

Julian held out his small hand, and Ashley was instantly won over. The child was adorable, and she took his hand lightly. “I'm glad to meet you. How old are you, Julian?”

“Four,” he answered promptly, holding up four fingers.

“You're a very big boy,” she said, and he grinned.

“I wanted you two to meet,” Gabe said quietly. “Kiddo,” Gabe continued, picking Julian up. “You've got your cars in the back of the truck. Will you play with them a few minutes while I talk to Miss Ryder?”

Julian nodded.

Ashley waited while Gabe set his son in the back of the pickup and Julian seemed to lose interest in the adults and began to play with his toys. Gabe walked back to talk to her.

As he neared, his brown eyes held her. What caused all this electricity when she was within four feet of him? It surely wasn't from the schoolgirl crush she'd once had.

He stopped only a few feet away and hooked his hands into his pockets.

“You cheated,” she said, too aware that her voice was breathless.

“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.”