Free The Rancher and His Unexpected Daughter by Sherryl Woods

Adams to assume such a significant role in their lives? It was not as if she’d had much choice, she consoled herself. Jenny had gotten their lives entwined from the moment she’d impulsively stolen that truck of his.
    As for the way she responded to Harlan’s warm glances, that was just hormones talking. Her good sense could overrule that anytime she chose—or so she prayed.
    She reached into the oven to remove the cake. The pot holder slipped. Her thumb landed squarely on the pan.
    â€œDamn,” she muttered as the round pan clattered to the floor. A crack the size of the Grand Canyon appeared down the middle of the cake. Jenny appeared just in time to stare in dismay at the mess.
    â€œJeez, Mom, that cake was about the only thing this meal had going for it.”
    â€œDon’t remind me,” she muttered, sucking on her injured thumb. “I’ll fill it in with frosting, so it’ll look okay. We’ll cut pieces from the outside edges. Harlan will never know.”
    â€œI don’t know. I think after he gets a taste of that limp spaghetti and the wilted salad, he’ll be expecting it.”
    Janet scowled at her daughter. “You’re no help. A little encouragement would be welcomed about now.”
    â€œYou need more than encouragement to bail you out,” Jenny declared derisively. “How about a quick trip to DiPasquali’s? I could be back before he gets here. He’ll never know you didn’t prepare every bite yourself.”
    Janet was sorely tempted to do just that. For some reason that probably didn’t bear too close a scrutiny, she really had wanted this meal to go well. She surveyed the mess in the kitchen, then glanced at the clock. He was due in five minutes.
    â€œThere’s no time,” she said, resigned to serving a meal barely fit for human consumption.
    â€œYou call. I’ll run,” Jenny repeated. “If he’s here when I get back, I’ll slip in through the kitchen. Just keep him out of here.”
    Janet reached for her purse and pulled out a twenty. “Go,” she said. A survey of the disaster she’d made of the kitchen had her adding, “And don’t worry about coming in through the kitchen. I wouldn’t let Harlan in here if it were burning down and he were the volunteer fireman.”
    When Jenny was gone and she’d placed the desperation call to Gina DiPasquali, she left the kitchen and closed the door behind her. If there’d been a lock, she would have turned the key.
    At least the dining room looked presentable. Jenny had even picked flowers for the center of the table and had put out the good china and silver. For all of her grumbling about Harlan Adams, it appeared she wanted to impress him, as well. Janet was more pleased about that than she cared to admit.
    She was just checking her makeup in the hall mirror when the doorbell rang. Precisely at six o’clock, she noted, checking her watch. She wondered if that was an indication of polite promptness or, perhaps, just a little eagerness. Her heart thumped unsteadily at the possibility that it might be the latter.
    When she opened the door, she could barely glimpse Harlan through the huge bouquet of flowers in his arms.
    â€œDid you buy out the florist’s entire stock?” she asked, taking them from him.
    He shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed. “It was late Saturday. She said it would all spoil by Monday anyway, so she gave me a deal,” he said, confirming what she’d meant as a facetious comment.
    â€œI see.”
    â€œI brought wine and candy, too. I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”
    â€œThe flowers would have been plenty,” she assured him, wondering how the devil she was going to keep him out of the kitchen if she took them in there to put them in vases.
    He grinned. “A little over the top, huh?”
    â€œBut sweet,” she assured him.
    â€œIt’s been a long