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  He stared hard, intending to let her know what he thought about her dereliction of daughterly duty. The way he looked at it, if a person didn't have normal affection, they still had duty. This woman had neither. She deserved nothing of Rob's.

  She wore a denim skit and black high-heeled boots. He focused for a moment on the boots. On any other woman he might have thought them attractive.

  Gene stood. "Miss Hagen, let me introduce Blake Thompson."

  The woman held out her hand. "Hello."

  Tall and slender with a voice of pure music. Too bad the music didn't go any deeper than her voice box.

  Blake hesitated then took her cool, smooth fingers. He resisted an urge to jerk back and shove his large, rough hands in his pockets and turned to face Gene. "Let's get this done. I've got things to do."

  Gene nodded him toward a chair. "Are you ready to proceed, Miss Hagen?"

  "Yes, let's get this over with." She settled back and crossed one long leg over the other.

  Blake stared hard at the books crowding the shelves behind Gene, ignoring the leg swinging gently to his right. He caught a whiff of orange. Wasn't much chance it came from Gene's dusty books and stacks of papers.

  The lawyer rustled the papers before him. "Rob was very clear and specific about the terms of his will." He gave Blake a steady look then ducked his head and read, "I hereby bequeath to Blake Thompson my share of the land and all farm-type assets." The lawyer glanced up. "He knew the ranch morally belonged to you even though your mother had made him joint owner when they married."

  Blake nodded. Better than what he expected. He crossed one ankle over his knee and tried not to think of the chores left to do.

  "Exclusive," Gene read, "of what is known as the 'old property' consisting of five acres and a house which I bequeath to my daughter, Darcy Hagen." He smiled at Darcy. "There are two houses on the ranch. The older one has its own title and it's now yours."

  Blake dropped both feet to the floor and faced Miss Hagen. "I knew Rob would leave you something. Just wasn't sure what. I've already made arrangements for the necessary funds to purchase the property from you. We can sign the papers now and I'll transfer the money to your account as soon as everything clears."

  She looked remote, as if none of this meant anything to her. But of course it didn't. She hadn't wanted anything to do with the ranch or its inhabitants when her father was alive. And he, Blake Thompson, now owner of the entire spread except for a few acres, didn't want anything to do with her. She had no part of his home, his life, or his thoughts.

  She returned his stare with clear blue eyes, not flinching before his displeasure. He always got a kick out of the way Amy fearlessly tried to stare him down when she was in trouble, but the same look in this woman made the muscles in his neck twitch.

  "How much money are we talking about?" she asked.

  "Fair market value."

  She slid her gaze away but not before he saw her silent accusation and the quirk of her eyebrows, her message as plain as the bar-like rays of sunshine slanting through the blinds beside Gene's desk. As if I'd trust you. He resisted the urge to grind his teeth.

  "I'll let you handle the details of the sale," she told his lawyer then uncrossed her legs and leaned back. "I have no interest in anything my father left me. We've had no contact for years. How long will it take? I have obligations back home."

  Gene rattled some papers. "I think you both better listen to the rest of the will before you make any decisions." He took a deep breath. "Your father named you both as joint-guardians of Amy."

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