to the staircase, the study door opened and her father stepped out.
"Lara, are you busy?" Martin Alexander halted just outside the opened door.
She hesitated, then turned away from the stairs to walk toward her father. "Not particularly. Why?"
"Would you bring a pot of coffee into the study?" he asked. "Rans and I are discussing the chapter outlines of my book."
Her gaze flew past him through the open door, riveting on the man, in the chair facing the desk. The study light gleamed over the dark golden brown of his hair. Her pulse leaped and there was a crazy singing in her ears. For an instant Lara was afraid she would faint, then she regained control of her senses.
"Of course, I will, daddy," she agreed, planning to deputize Sara to bring the pot.
"And bring three cups," he instructed.
"Three?" she frowned.
"Yes, I want you to join us."
Lara swallowed, smiling nervously. "Another time, maybe. There were, uh, some things I wanted to get done tonight."
He waved the protest aside. "Let them wait."
"But you will be talking about the book, technical things—"
"Exactly," Martin nodded. "Rans seems to think I should have separate chapters on disease and insects, because—well, never mind. We'll go into the reasons later, but I want your opinion too." The matter was settled as far as he was concerned and he turned to reenter the study, pausing to add, "You might bring some of Sara's pecan tarts with the coffee."
Then he was inside, closing the door. Lara was left standing there, her mind still racing to find a suitable excuse to refuse. She stared at the door for a long second before deciding that she was foolish to prolong this meeting. It was best to get it over with.
Wings from a million butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach she walked to the kitchen. Her throat was dry and tight, with hardly enough moisture in her mouth to swallow. She poured the coffee into the thermos server and set it on the tray with the cups and saucers, adding a plate of Sara's tarts.
At the study door, Lara took a deep breath to steady her jumping nerves, balanced the tray on one hand and opened the door. As she walked in, her gaze was magnetically drawn to Rans, sliding away when he politely rose at her entrance.
"Here's your coffee and sweet, daddy." She walked to the second leather chair in front of the desk, setting the tray atop the cleared space on the desk. Her glance ricocheted off Rans's carved features. "Good evening, Mr. MacQuade."
"Mrs. Cochran." He acknowledged her greeting smoothly.
He continued to stand, setting off the butterflies again in her stomach with the way he towered muscularly beside her. "Please sit down," Lara insisted with a forced smile.
Another glance in his direction was caught by his brown eyes. He appeared aloof and remarkably indifferent to her, as if the incident in the stable had happened to two other people. Nothing in his ex pression revealed even a hint of taunting mockery.
A little sigh of relief quivered through her as she turned to her father. "Would you like me to pour?"
"Please." He looked up from the notes in his hand. "Do you take anything in your coffee, Rans? Sugar? Cream? Honey?"
"Nothing, thank you."
There was only a slight trembling of her hand as Lara poured the coffee into the three cups, adding honey to her father's and setting it to the right of him. The cup for Rans jiggled in its saucer when she picked it up to hand it to him.
His tanned fingers were reaching out for it, but his attention was diverted by her father bringing up some point about his book. Lara didn't hear it. She was too busy concentrating on maintaining her composure.
As his hand closed over the saucer, it accidentally, came in contact with Lara's. An electric current seemed to spring from his touch, jolting her so that she jerked her fingers back. Her action was not swift enough to elude the cup of coffee as it tipped, spilling its nearly boiling contents on the back of her hand.
The clatter of the
"Lara, are you busy?" Martin Alexander halted just outside the opened door.
She hesitated, then turned away from the stairs to walk toward her father. "Not particularly. Why?"
"Would you bring a pot of coffee into the study?" he asked. "Rans and I are discussing the chapter outlines of my book."
Her gaze flew past him through the open door, riveting on the man, in the chair facing the desk. The study light gleamed over the dark golden brown of his hair. Her pulse leaped and there was a crazy singing in her ears. For an instant Lara was afraid she would faint, then she regained control of her senses.
"Of course, I will, daddy," she agreed, planning to deputize Sara to bring the pot.
"And bring three cups," he instructed.
"Three?" she frowned.
"Yes, I want you to join us."
Lara swallowed, smiling nervously. "Another time, maybe. There were, uh, some things I wanted to get done tonight."
He waved the protest aside. "Let them wait."
"But you will be talking about the book, technical things—"
"Exactly," Martin nodded. "Rans seems to think I should have separate chapters on disease and insects, because—well, never mind. We'll go into the reasons later, but I want your opinion too." The matter was settled as far as he was concerned and he turned to reenter the study, pausing to add, "You might bring some of Sara's pecan tarts with the coffee."
Then he was inside, closing the door. Lara was left standing there, her mind still racing to find a suitable excuse to refuse. She stared at the door for a long second before deciding that she was foolish to prolong this meeting. It was best to get it over with.
Wings from a million butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach she walked to the kitchen. Her throat was dry and tight, with hardly enough moisture in her mouth to swallow. She poured the coffee into the thermos server and set it on the tray with the cups and saucers, adding a plate of Sara's tarts.
At the study door, Lara took a deep breath to steady her jumping nerves, balanced the tray on one hand and opened the door. As she walked in, her gaze was magnetically drawn to Rans, sliding away when he politely rose at her entrance.
"Here's your coffee and sweet, daddy." She walked to the second leather chair in front of the desk, setting the tray atop the cleared space on the desk. Her glance ricocheted off Rans's carved features. "Good evening, Mr. MacQuade."
"Mrs. Cochran." He acknowledged her greeting smoothly.
He continued to stand, setting off the butterflies again in her stomach with the way he towered muscularly beside her. "Please sit down," Lara insisted with a forced smile.
Another glance in his direction was caught by his brown eyes. He appeared aloof and remarkably indifferent to her, as if the incident in the stable had happened to two other people. Nothing in his ex pression revealed even a hint of taunting mockery.
A little sigh of relief quivered through her as she turned to her father. "Would you like me to pour?"
"Please." He looked up from the notes in his hand. "Do you take anything in your coffee, Rans? Sugar? Cream? Honey?"
"Nothing, thank you."
There was only a slight trembling of her hand as Lara poured the coffee into the three cups, adding honey to her father's and setting it to the right of him. The cup for Rans jiggled in its saucer when she picked it up to hand it to him.
His tanned fingers were reaching out for it, but his attention was diverted by her father bringing up some point about his book. Lara didn't hear it. She was too busy concentrating on maintaining her composure.
As his hand closed over the saucer, it accidentally, came in contact with Lara's. An electric current seemed to spring from his touch, jolting her so that she jerked her fingers back. Her action was not swift enough to elude the cup of coffee as it tipped, spilling its nearly boiling contents on the back of her hand.
The clatter of the
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