Wedding His Takeover Target by Emilie Rose Page A

haven’t had any man other than Pops in your bedroom since Russell.
    Right. She’d been uncomfortable, not anything else. She definitely had not been turned on.
    When Gavin’s gaze had looked toward the flag, then moved on to Russell’s picture, shock quickly followed by panic had seized and chilled her. She used to end each day looking at the flag and remembering her husband had been willing to die for a cause he’d passionately believed in. Every night before she’d closed her eyes she’d told the image of Russell’s beloved face good-night.
    When had she stopped? She couldn’t remember.
    Guilt poured over her. Shaken and weak, she’d hidden the photograph because she couldn’t bear Gavin asking about Russell. And he would, the nosy bastard. She hated that she’d been so rattled she hadn’t even been able to stay and learn basic window repair. How could she take care of the inn if she didn’t tough it out?
    And then Gavin had watched her throughout lunch with that wolf-like predator’s awareness of his. Her nerves had stretched to almost the breaking point as she’d waited for him to voice the questions in his eyes and rip the scabs off barely healed wounds. But he hadn’t. Instead he and Pops had discussed the dam Gavin had built in Namibia. If she’d been less tense she would have been fascinated by the stories Gavin told of his adventures. He’d worked in places she’d only dreamed of seeing and done things she couldn’t even begin to fathom. It must be amazing to look up at a massive dam or bridge and know you’d had a part in its creation.
    Pops shuffled into the kitchen, followed by Gavin. The men headed for the coatrack.
    She quickly dried her hands. “Where are you going?”
    â€œHenry wants me to take him to the mine,” Gavin answered.
    No. “But it’s snowing.”
    â€œIt stopped an hour ago and we checked weather radar. Thenext band of snow won’t move through for a couple of hours.” Gavin helped Pops with his coat.
    She scrambled for excuses. “The ground will be slick.”
    â€œI’ll drive him as close to the mine entrance as possible,” Gavin replied in a deep, patient tone that made her want to scream. “With the forecast we have we won’t be able to make the trip later in the week.”
    If she couldn’t make the lug head see reason, she’d work on Pops. She turned to her grandfather. “What about your aches?”
    â€œThey’ve eased a might since my nap. The exercise will do me good. Might even loosen me up.”
    She couldn’t let them go alone. Gavin had already gotten a promise to sell land and a blank check. No telling what else he would wheedle out of Pops. “I’ll go with you.”
    â€œWe’re taking the pickup,” Gavin warned.
    She smothered a grimace. That would put her in the sandwiched-between-two-men position she’d fought so hard to avoid this morning. “Fine.”
    Gavin held out her coat, leaving her no choice but to turn her back and let him assist her. She shoved her arms into the sleeves and before she could step away he scooped his hands under her hair to pull it free of her collar. His fingertips grazed her nape. A shiver of awareness trickled down her spine.
    Startled, she jumped out of reach. She was not attracted to him. Absolutely not. She wouldn’t let herself be. She had too many good reasons to dislike and distrust him.
    â€œPops, wouldn’t you prefer your beaver hat?”
    â€œB’lieve I would.” He shuffled toward his bedroom.
    Sabrina waited until he was out of earshot, then scowled at Gavin. “The climb will be too much for him.”
    â€œHe can handle it if I take it slow and stop to show him points of interest along the trail.” He kept his voice at the same low volume as hers.
    â€œGavin—”
    â€œHe needs to do this and you need to let