of
the most interesting and I’ll read them and see if I can discover why I should
keep them. I think when you get into it, you’ll change your mind. I don’t want
to save letters that tell how the sod roof leaks or the butter churn broke or a
wagon needs a new axle.”
“I think all those things would be interesting.” She tilted her
head to study him. “Family really isn’t important to you, is it?”
Shaking his head again, he continued to smile. “Sure it is. I’m
close with my brothers. That doesn’t mean I want a bunch of old letters none of
us will look at twice. They’re musty, rotting and of no value.” He leaned
closer, so close she blinked and forgot the letters. He was only inches away and
his mouth was inviting, conjuring up her curiosity about how he kissed.
“You’re looking at me as if I just sprouted fangs.”
She couldn’t get her breath to answer him. His eyes narrowed a
tiny fraction and his smile vanished. The look in his eyes changed,
intensifying. Her pulse drummed, a steady rhythm that was loud in her ears. “I
can’t understand your attitude.”
“Well, we’re alike to a degree there—I can’t understand yours,”
he said lightly. Again a thick silence fell and she couldn’t think about letters
or the subject of their conversation or even what he had just said. All she
thought about was his mouth only a few inches from hers. Realizing the
lust-charged moments were happening too often, she shifted and looked away,
trying to catch her breath and get back on track.
She stood and stepped away, turning to glance back. “I’ll get a
pen and paper in case I need to take notes.”
“I’ll help sort some of these,” he said, studying her with a
smoldering look.
She wanted to thank him and tell him his help wasn’t necessary.
It definitely wasn’t wanted. She needed to keep space between them. Big spaces.
This wasn’t a way to start a new assignment. She had no such attraction to men
she worked with in Dallas, or anywhere else for that matter. Why was Zach
Delaney so compelling?
It was certainly not because he was great fun or because they
had so much in common. The only similarities they had were living in Texas at
the same time in history and being connected in business to the same company.
She had to get a grip on her reactions to him.
In every way he was not the man to be attracted to. Her boss, a
world traveler, cared almost nothing for all the things that were important to
her, family most of all.
Picking up a tablet, a pen and an empty wooden tray, she
returned to her chair, pulling it slightly farther from his, but she couldn’t
move away because the basket and box to put the old documents in stood between
them. She placed the wooden tray on the floor beside her chair.
When she opened the first envelope, a faint, musty odor
emanated as she withdrew thin, yellowed pages covered in script. She read the
letter from a man who wrote about frontier life, the “beeves” he had rounded up,
and his plans to take them north to sell.
“Zach, if this is your great-great-grandfather, you should read
this letter and see what kind of life he had,” she said impulsively. “It’s
fascinating. He writes about a wagon train that came through and camped on his
land. Is that this same ranch?”
“Same identical one,” he remarked dryly, amusement in his
expression.
“Listen—‘their leader was Samuel Worthington,’” she read.
“‘Samuel asked if they could stay. He said they had traveled from Virginia and
were going west. They had lost four people in their group. The four unfortunates
drowned when they crossed a treacherous river after a rain. I gave them flour
and beef so they had fresh supplies. Worry ran high about finding water in days
to come so I drew Samuel a map of the land I know and showed him where to find
water when they left my home. They have great expectations regarding their
journey.’”
She lowered the letter to look at Zach. “I think