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temper cooled a little. He thought of Maggie. His sister had found herself in the same situation when she was pregnant withTravis. Her husband had shunned his duty completely, choosing instead to divorce her and disappear from her life. And the life of his son.
    Cruz remembered how he had felt at the time. Like he wanted to kill her husband with his bare hands. “Fathers have some responsibilities, too.”
    Responsibilities, but not love , she thought. And love was all she wanted for her baby. And for herself.
    “Sometimes, it’s best for everyone to leave all that untapped.” With effort, Savannah sat down again behind her desk and pretended to shut him out. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I have work to do.”
    “No,” he said, barely containing the flash of temper he felt. “There’s nothing else.”
    He slammed the door behind him when he walked out.
    Savannah wilted in her chair. She jerked, her eyes darting toward the door when it opened again less than a minute later.
    Crossing to her, Vanessa put her arms comfortingly around Savannah. “Are you all right?”
    Savannah took a deep breath, then let it out slowly before answering. “No,” she admitted. “But I will be.”
    The way she saw it, she had no other choice.

Six
    T he lariat slipped out of his hands—that made three times since he’d started today. Muttering a curse, Cruz stooped down and picked it up off the ground. Pickett whinnied, and it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Cruz’s foul mood intensified.
    What the hell was the matter with him lately?
    He knew the answer to that even as he made the silent demand. Knew the answer, even though it still didn’t make any more sense to him now than it had a week ago.
    The woman was pregnant and out of his hair. He usually liked it when loose ends took care of themselves, and there was no question that these had. God knew he’d never been one for long-term romances. To him, long term meant maybe a week, if that much. It certainly didn’t mean harboring any sort of feelings for a woman for months.
    It had been a little more than four months since he’d first slept with Savannah.
    And last slept with Savannah.
    Disgusted with himself for dwelling on her, andwith Savannah for preying on his thoughts this way, Cruz recoiled the lariat.
    But his mind refused to clear.
    Right from the beginning, she’d been different. He’d never had a woman linger on his mind, never had an insatiable craving for a woman he’d already had once. And he certainly had never refrained from seducing one if he’d been so inclined and had the opportunity.
    Whenever he’d been with Savannah since she’d arrived at the ranch, he’d sensed that all he had to do was push the right buttons—the way he had that first night—and she would be his for the taking. But because she’d tried to resist, he hadn’t pushed.
    What had he been thinking?
    And what was he thinking now?
    Instead of using the lariat, he hung it from one of the posts on the small, circular corral. Damn it, it had been almost a week since Savannah had dropped that little bombshell of hers on him, and he was still letting it fester, like a wound he somehow couldn’t make himself clean. A wound that hurt every time he touched it.
    Ruben frowned as he watched his son working with the horse. Or not working. He’d always been proud of the boy. From the time Cruz was five years old, it was obvious that he had an affinity foranimals—horses in particular. More than just an affinity: a gift. He could make horses do anything he set his mind to. A little like the women who were always seeking him out, giving him no peace. Not that Cruz ever seemed to want any.
    He’d also shown an early talent for making the most of the opportunities, and the women, who came his way.
    But something was wrong. And it had been for more than a week now. Cruz seemed preoccupied, not at ease with himself or the horse he was training. Usually, it was a pleasure to watch him. But for