Expecting the Rancher's Child (Callahan's Clan) by Sara Orwig

returned to poring over catalogues.
    Blake continued to charm her, talking about suggestions Eli had made that he liked. After dinner they returned to the new wing while she went over some of the suggested changes. Throughout it all they managed to remain professional.
    On Thursday she couldn’t keep her mind on her work. She had agreed to go to dinner with Blake tonight. Tomorrow she would fly home for a family picnic that had become a spring tradition, growing in size each year. But tonight…
    Sierra stopped work at four to get ready for the evening out. The minute she had accepted Blake’s invitation to eat barbecue, she’d complicated her life more. She should’ve turned him down, but the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to go out with him.
    In spite of all her warnings to herself, she spent more than an hour getting ready to go, finally settling on jeans, boots and a red cotton shirt. As she dressed, she felt eager to spend the evening with Blake, knowing she would have a good time and a fabulous dinner.
    And later—her thoughts stopped there. She wouldn’t think about his kisses, or how she should resist them. After brushing her hair vigorously, she let it fall free. She picked up a white Resistol, and with one final look in the mirror, she left to find Blake.
    When she entered the library, her breath caught. Looking more handsome and sexier than ever, Blake stood across the room. He wore a brown Western shirt that complemented his good looks. His tight jeans fit slender hips and long legs, and the cowboy boots added to his height. The instant her gaze met his, she was hopelessly lost, dazzled by the prospect of a fun evening out with him.
    “Wow, lady, you look great,” he said, enthusiasm filling his husky voice as his gaze swept over her again. “Every guy in the county will want to meet you.”
    “You wanted me to meet the locals.”
    “Yeah, so I did,” he said, still studying her and sounding as if he was thinking more about something other than his answer. “Ready? Let’s go get one of the best barbecue dinners you’ll ever eat.”
    As the sun cast longer shadows, Blake drove to Marvina, a small town that looked only half a dozen blocks long. In the center of what had to be the main street was a restaurant with a red neon sign declaring the place to be Barney Jack’s Bar-B-Q.
    Inside they were seated in a booth in a dark corner. There was a dance floor, but no musicians yet, and no dancers as people talked and ate, and busy wait staff scurried back and forth with trays heaped with baskets of shoestring fries, wrapped sandwiches and bottles of beer or frosty mugs of iced tea.
    “If this barbecue is as good as it smells, then it will live up to all you said.”
    “It’s the best ever.”
    “You lived in town, so when did you get this love of ranching and the cowboy life?”
    “My maternal grandfather was a rancher. I inherited his spread. I spent a good part of my childhood there and I loved it. I loved him,” Blake said. In the dim light she couldn’t see any difference in his expression, but his tone of voice changed, and she suspected his grandfather had been important to him.
    “So, you did have family who loved you in addition to your mom.”
    “Yep, my mother’s parents meant a lot to me. I never met my paternal grandparents, and both died when I was in high school.” As Blake talked, she watched two men step up on the stage. As they spread out to start playing a fiddle and bass, couples moved to the dance floor and in seconds dancers circled the floor in a brisk two-step.
    A waiter appeared to take their order, and as soon as he left Blake slid out of the booth and held out his hand. “Let’s dance,” he said.
    She started to protest, listening to the music and watching the few dancers. But she took his hand and stood up. In seconds they were on the dance floor, keeping time with the music. For a few minutes, it was fun to stop thinking about problems and differences and