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Tiffany sifted through the documents, and as she did her heart contracted painfully. Dustin’s signature was scrawled all over the legal papers concerning Emerald Enterprises and the purchase of the farm in question. Without a doubt, some of Zane’s story was true. Just how much, she would have to determine on her own, when issues such as the dead foals and her feelings for Zane didn’t clutter her mind. Pursing her lips together she handed the papers back to Zane.
“They’re yours,” he said.
“I don’t want them.”
“I have extra copies, and I think you might want to go over these more carefully while I’m gone.”
“You’re leaving?”Oh, God, not now. Not when I need your arms to protect me . . .
“Have to,” he admitted with obvious reluctance.
“I see,” she replied, stunned. How long did she expect him to stay? He’d already mentioned that he had business back in San Francisco. It was only a matter of time until they went their separate ways.
She stared sightlessly down at the documents she still held in her hands. Since Zane had been with her, she had avoided thinking about the time he would leave.This is crazy, let him go, before you do something you’ll regret later. . . .
His hands molded over her upper arms. The warmth of his touch made her knees weaken, and she had to fight the urge to fall against him for support.
“While I’m gone, I want you to consider selling the farm to me,” he said sharply, his gentle fingers in stark contrast to his harsh words.
He was a man of contradictions, ruthless one moment, kind the next; sensitive to her desires as a woman, yet insensitive to her needs as a person. She told herself she couldn’t possibly fall in love with him and yet she knew that fate had already cast the die. She was falling desperately and hopelessly in love with the stranger from Ireland.
“It’s just not that easy, Zane. Dustin still owns twenty-five percent—I can’t make a decision without him.”
“Then consider selling out your portion. I’ll deal with Dustin later.” The tone of his voice was harsh, his jaw hard.
“It’s just not possible.”
“Anything’s possible, Tiffany. Don’t you know that?”
As possible as falling in love with you? Dear Lord, what has happened to my common sense?
As if reading her unspoken question, Zane smiled gently. The tense line of his jaw relaxed as slumberous eyes embraced hers. One long finger traced the elegant curve of her neck. “I’ll be back in a few days,” he promised.
Her lips trembled beguilingly. “There’s no need. You know my position on selling the farm—”
“And what about Devil’s Gambit?”
She frowned and pushed an errant lock of golden hair over her shoulder. “I . . . I don’t know,” she admitted, eyeing the portrait of the proud stallion. She needed time alone, time to think and sort out everything Zane had stated. How much of his story was fact and how much was pure fiction?
“You’ll need a contact in Ireland.”
The thought that Zane might be leaving the country shocked her. For this short time she’d had with him, she felt as if they’d grown incredibly close.
“I’ll have to think about that—”
“Tiffany?”
“Yes?” She looked up and found him staring at her. For most of the evening he had forced himself to stay away from her physically. But standing next to her with the warmth of the fire against his back, smelling the scent of her perfume, seeing the honest regret in her blue eyes, was too much to bear. The restraint he had placed upon himself began to dissolve into the shadowy room.
He touched the seductive contour of her jaw, and she closed her eyes. His hands were gentle as they lingered near her throat. “Come with me to San Francisco,” he suggested impulsively as his blood began to heat and he forgot his earlier promise to himself. He wanted Tiffany Rhodes as he’d never wanted a woman.
“Oh, Zane, I can’t.”
“Why not?” His fingers had wrapped around her nape, under the curtain of her hair. She had trouble thinking clearly as his hands drew her near to him, and his lips touched her eyelids.
“I have . . . too many things to do . . . too much to think about. . . .”
‘Think about me—”
