The Inherited Twins

She filled a mug, turned and handed it to him. Their hands brushed once again as the transfer was made, and Claire felt another whisper of desire float through her, stronger than before.

Until now, she hadn’t realized how lonely she was.

Now, she knew.

And so did he.

“See you in the morning,” he said.

“Eight-thirty,” she confirmed, her heart still pounding, all her senses in overdrive.

But, as it happened, she saw him sooner than that. Heath was in the front parlor, helping himself at the breakfast buffet, when she shepherded the kids toward the front door, to wait for their preschool car pool. He was clad in a navy and—white pin-striped shirt and navy suit that made the most of his tall, muscled frame and brought out the blue of his eyes. One look at his ruggedly handsome face and enticing smile and she knew he was thinking about the kiss they’d shared, as much as she was.

Deliberately, Claire turned away. “Now, remember,” she told the twins, as she stopped at the front hall closet and took a gift-wrapped package off the shelf. “You’re going to a birthday party this afternoon. Buddy Nesbitt’s mommy and daddy are going to drive everybody to Buddy’s house, and you’re going to have pizza and birthday cake, and play games. And then when the party is over, I’m going to come and get you and drive you home.”

“Are they going to have candles?” Henry asked, standing patiently as Claire helped him into his light jacket.

“Yes. I’m sure they’ll have candles on Buddy’s cake.”

“Is he going to do that wish thing and blow them out?” Heidi asked.

“Yes, he gets to make a wish, and then he blows the candles out.”

“But he can’t tell anybody or it won’t come true,” Heidi recollected solemnly.

“Right. Birthday wishes are secret,” Claire said.

“I want a birthday,” Henry declared.

“Your birthdays are coming up next week.”

Heidi perked up. “Do we get a party?”

“You do,” Claire said. “It’s going to be at the park and you can invite all your friends. It should be a lot of fun.”

“Yes!” Henry clapped his hands together.

Hearing a car rumbling up the drive, Claire opened the door and herded the kids out to the nine-passenger vehicle. She handed the present to the mom driving the car, for safekeeping, made sure the twins were both buckled in, then stood waving as the van disappeared again.

Heath came out to stand beside her. “The twins seem okay this morning,” he noted.

Remembering how much help he had been to her the night before, she turned to him with a wry smile. “That’s the way it is. One minute they’re confused and grieving, the next it’s like nothing ever happened.”

Heath searched her eyes. “I gather you have a harder time bouncing back?”

“Unfortunately, I understand the finality of our loss.” As an image of her late sister came to mind, Claire swallowed. She focused her attention on the horizon as she confessed, “I think the holidays are going to be tough.”

Sympathy radiated in his low voice. “Your first…”

She nodded. “Without Liz-Beth and Sven, yes.” She swallowed again, then knotted her hands into determined fists at her sides. “But we’ll get through it, because we still have a lot to be thankful for.” She paused, drew a bolstering breath. “Speaking of which, you ready to go over to the ranch office and talk about how we can make the numbers work?”

He nodded, all business once again. “Lead the way.”

HEATH SETTLED IN A CHAIR on the other side of Claire’s desk, aware this wasn’t an ordinary business meeting, any more than the kiss they’d shared the night before had been ordinary. What happened in the next few weeks would either make or break Claire’s dreams for the Red Sage, while simultaneously securing the twins’ inheritance.

Heath did not want to be in the position to make that kind of impact on her hopes for the future. But it was his job. And he always did his job.

Claire folded her hands together and consulted the handwritten notes in front of her. “You said the other day that as long as the business demonstrated the potential for growth, as long as the guest ranch could turn a small profit, you wouldn’t have to sell anything.”

Trying not to notice how pretty she looked in a dark-gold sweater and brown-and-gold paisley skirt, Heath nodded. “The problem is, according to the rates you’ve set for the rooms, that’s not going to happen, with the kind of occupancy you’ve got right now.”

She leaned back in her swivel chair. “We were at capacity for seven weeks this summer.”

Heath kept his eyes locked on hers. “And not even half occupied since September.”

A delicate flush highlighted her cheeks. “I put up a Web site, and that’s bringing in some business. But obviously I’ve got to do more, which is why I’ve written to every newspaper and magazine editor in the state and let them know we’re open for quiet R & R, family reunions, business retreats.”

“When did you do that?”

Resentment colored her tone. “I started sending out letters the end of August, the beginning of September, when things slowed down.”

A good move, but possibly not enough. “What’s the response been?” Heath asked.

The evasive look was back in her eyes. She started to rise. “Can I get you some coffee?”

He respected her too much to be anything less than forthright. He shook his head in answer to her question and said, “It’s not enough just to send out brochures.”

She sank back in her desk chair and rocked back and forth impatiently. “I’ve made phone calls, too.”

“Any results?”

She hedged. “All it would take is one good review in Southwestern Living magazine, or the travel section of a Houston or Dallas paper travel section, and I’d be fully booked in no time.”

“Even if you were to get good press right now, I’m afraid it might be too little too late.”

Claire massaged the back of her neck with both hands. “If we could just hang on until next spring, and be patient…”

Heath pretended not to notice the way her posture drew his attention to her curves. “Right now the ranch is operating anywhere from five hundred dollars a month in the black to five thousand dollars in the red.”

“I know.” Claire dropped her hands. A pleading note came into her voice. “But if you average those numbers over the nine months we’ve been open, I’m only short a thousand a month.”

He wished he could cut her a break. “What about the winter months coming up?” he inquired matter-of-factly. “Do you have bookings?”

Again she looked regretful. “Some.”

“How many?”

Claire sighed. “Not enough.”