* * *
Grady was bombarded by information on the progress of the new ranch house. What Dooley and Hank didn’t report, one of Karen’s friends did. They kept him so completely in the loop that he knew the instant the paint had dried on the new kitchen walls. He knew within seconds when the last workman had left.
“Go over there,” Cassie pleaded, not for the first time.
“No,” he said flatly, regretting his impulse to have dinner at Stella’s.
Cassie ignored his scowl and slid into the booth opposite him. “She loves you. I know she does.”
“I know it, too,” he agreed.
“Then why won’t you go to see her?”
“She has to want what I’m offering bad enough to come to me.”
“What exactly are you offering?” Cassie demanded.
“A future,” he said.
“Does she know that?”
“Of course she does.”
“Really? Did you propose to her? If so, I must have missed it.”
He frowned again. “Not in so many words,” he mumbled.
“What was that?”
“I said I didn’t propose in so many words.”
“Well, then, is it any wonder she hasn’t come to you? You’ve ignored her for four months. She probably—no, make that definitely—assumes you’ve lost interest. Not that she’d ever blame you. Isn’t that precisely what she told you to do, to forget about her?”
“She told you that?”
Cassie sighed. “No, she doesn’t say much of anything. She just works day and night. She’s going to keel over if somebody doesn’t stop her.”
“And you think I ought to be that somebody,” he guessed.
“If you love her the way you claim to,” she challenged. “None of the rest of us are getting through to her.”
He scowled at her, but she didn’t back down. “Okay, okay,” he said, tossing his napkin on the table. “I’ll go to see her.”
“With an engagement ring,” she called after him.
“No, something even more convincing,” he retorted, and let the door of Stella’s slam behind him before Cassie could demand details.
And before she realized that he’d just stuck her with his bill. He figured she owed him the meal, since she hadn’t let him eat it in peace.
He rode out to the ranch, walked into the den and picked up the paper he’d had drawn up months ago, along with another packet that he’d been holding for the right time. For good measure, he also grabbed the little jewelry box that had been tucked into his desk drawer just as long. The latter would definitely have made Cassie happy if she’d known about it. He had a feeling, though, that it was the papers that were going to make the difference with Karen, if anything did.
He was about to leave when his grandfather stepped through the front door. He took one look at the papers and the box in Grady’s hand and gave a nod of approval.
“About time,” he said, heading for the living room and lowering himself heavily into a chair, groaning a bit with the effort. He was playing the role of aging family scion to the hilt.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Grady said sarcastically.
“I intend to, and this time I’m not leaving until you’ve talked that woman into marrying you. I’d like to see one great-grandbaby before I die.”
Grady grinned at him, impressed with the performance. Last he’d heard, the family doctor had said that Thomas Blackhawk would outlive them all.
“With any luck, we’ll give you half a dozen,” he promised. If this was what his grandfather really wanted from him, he was all too eager to grant the request.
“Not unless you get the woman to say yes,” the old man said wryly.
“I will,” Grady said with confidence. He’d been waiting too damned long to take anything less than a yes for an answer.
Karen was hanging laundry when she saw Grady’s car leave the highway and tear up the driveway creating a swirl of dust. Her heart went still and her hands rested motionless on the clothesline. The late August sun burned her shoulders.
She watched warily as Grady came toward her, his gaze seeking hers, that incredible swagger making her blood run hot. It had been far too long since she’d seen it. More than once, she’d wondered if she would ever see him again.
When he neared, he didn’t reach for her, didn’t change expressions. He simply handed her a single page of white paper with a few typed words, a scrawled signature and a notary’s stamp.
“What’s this?” she asked, her gaze on him, not the paper.
“Read it.”
Her fingers trembled as she took the page and began to read.
“Should Karen Hanson agree to marry me, I hereby relinquish any claim whatsoever against whatever property she might own at the time of our marriage. Such property shall be hers to do with as she chooses.”
Stunned, she searched his face. “This is real?”
“They tell me it’s legal,” he said. “This time I had Miss Ames at the bank look me in the eye when I signed so there would be no mistaking that it was me. Nate Grogan was there, too. They still have a lot to make amends for after that last fiasco.”
For a moment she was distracted. “Did they ever figure out who forged those papers?”
“No, and I told ’em to drop it. I’m convinced it was Jesse Oldham or someone he hired, but we might never know for sure no matter how much investigating is done.”
She glanced again at the paper she held. “When did you do this?”
“Look at the date.”
To her shock, it was dated back in the spring, long before the fire. Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, Grady,” she whispered, thinking of all the months he’d waited to show her this proof that she mattered more to him than the land. In all that time, he could so easily have changed his mind.
But he hadn’t, she thought, lifting her gaze to his.
“It says something in here about marriage. Are you proposing?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I suppose I did go about this a little backward, but
