“Not that I’m aware of,” he told his father.
“Can’t understand a man who wouldn’t be proud to call a little one like that his own.”
“Neither can I,” Jordan said grimly. He’d expressed his views on Paul Flint more than once to Kelly, long before she’d finally decided on divorce as her only option. He’d even offered on occasion to pummel some sense into the man.
“Shame to go through life without a daddy,” Harlan observed.
Jordan regarded him intently. There was no mistaking that his father had a point to make. “Meaning?”
“Just what I said,” he insisted, sounding a little too innocent. “A child deserves two parents. Of course, a situation like that is all wrong for a man like you.”
“Now what’s your point?” Jordan’s voice contained a lethal warning note.
“Just that I understand you. You’re not looking for some country gal and a ready-made family. I’ve seen your type, glossy, sophisticated, like that…what’s her name?”
“Rexanne,” Jordan supplied automatically, used to his father’s refusal to get the names of the women in his life straight.
“Right,” he said. “Now she’s the perfect wife for a big oil tycoon.”
Jordan was beginning to wonder exactly how much his father knew about his broken engagement. It seemed to him that the digs were a little too pointed for him not to have heard about it. He’d always despised Rexanne, just as he had every other woman Jordan had brought to White Pines. His sudden defense of her was clearly part of some Machiavellian scheme of his. He’d probably been on the phone to Ginger during the week and gotten an earful about his son’s social life—or sudden lack thereof.
“I’m afraid Rexanne is out of the picture,” Jordan said tersely.
Harlan tried for a sympathetic look, but the effort was downright pitiful. There was a gleam of pure satisfaction in his eyes. “Sorry, son,” he said without much sincerity.
“She was the wrong choice. I’ll get over it.” Sooner than anyone imagined, if he had his way about it.
“It’s not surprising, then, that you were over to visit Kelly last night. She always has had a sympathetic ear, especially where you’re concerned.”
“We weren’t lamenting my love life last night,” Jordan said.
Curiosity blossomed on his father’s transparent features. “Oh?”
“We were just…talking,” he finally concluded weakly, unwilling to broach the actual subject matter of their conversation. Once Harlan got that particular bit in his teeth, there’d be no controlling his efforts at manipulation.
“Just don’t go letting her get the wrong idea now, son. You said yourself, she’s been through a lot. No point in getting her hopes up now that you’re on the rebound. No telling what a woman might do when a man is vulnerable. They can be downright sneaky when they’re out to get their hooks into a man.”
“There’s nothing the least bit sneaky or underhanded about Kelly,” Jordan snapped.
“If you say so, son. You certainly know the woman better than I do.”
Jordan didn’t think he liked the direction this conversation was heading. Any minute now his father was going to say something truly offensive about Kelly and he would leap to her defense. There was no telling what would happen after that. His mother would probably find them tussling on the dining room floor.
He tossed his napkin down on the table and stood. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Going for a ride?” his father inquired, his expression perfectly innocent.
“Yes,” he said tightly, and slammed out of the house.
Only much, much later did he wonder what he would have seen if he’d looked back. He had the strangest feeling he would have caught a complacent smile spreading across his father’s face.
* * *
With Dani visiting a friend for the day, Kelly had spent the entire morning checking on her livestock and inspecting her fences. Of course, given her state of distraction an entire section of fence could have been down and it would have slipped her notice. Fortunately the ranch hand she’d been able to afford just a month ago had been riding with her most of the day. Now, though, she was alone again, riding at a more leisurely pace.
She kept glancing toward the horizon, looking for some sign of Jordan’s car. Her ears were attuned to the sound of approaching hooves, as well, since he sometimes chose to borrow one of his father’s horses and ride over.
He still looked incredibly well suited to horse and saddle. In fact, she’d always thought he looked far more impressive and a hundred percent sexier in jeans and a chambray shirt than he did in those outrageously expensive designer suits he wore most of the time in Houston. Every time he put one of those suits on, it was as if a barrier went up between them. Sometimes she didn’t even recognize the man he’d become in Houston.
More than his clothes had changed. As if fitting himself to a role, he’d been transformed into a sophisticated executive, driven and sometimes, it seemed to her, a little too coldly dispassionate.
His proposal the night before had certainly fit the new Jordan. The old Jordan, the sensitive man who often sat in her kitchen talking until dawn, the exuberant daredevil who’d ridden over every square inch of her ranch and his own with her at midnight, would never have made such a proposition. He’d had more romance in his soul, even if little of it had been directed her way. Now she had to wonder if he’d wasted it all on that string of unsuitable gold diggers who’d spent the past few years trying to catch him.
She knew without a doubt that he wasn’t going to give up on this crazy idea he’d gotten into his head about marrying her. One of his most attractive traits was his tenaciousness. To ready herself for the next assault, she had spent the entire morning reminding herself of all the ways to say no—and mean it.
She was so busy concentrating
