Something tells me Val could grasp the details in no time.”
“But she’d hate it,” Laurie countered. “Val likes the world of country music, don’t you, Val?”
“All that singing about heartache and cowboys and you don’t think she’d like to meet the real thing,” Harlan Patrick retorted before Val could reply. “I say we take her on a tour and let her decide for herself.”
Laurie’s gaze narrowed. “This is just your sneaky way of getting us out to White Pines, isn’t it? You’re just itching for the family to get a look at your daughter.”
“Well, of course I am,” he agreed. “Nothing says we can’t include a little sight-seeing for Val along the way.”
“Val has things to do.”
Harlan Patrick turned to her assistant. “Is that right? Are you too busy to pay a visit to the ranch?”
Val heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Finally. I am so glad that somebody noticed I was still in the room.” She shot a defiant look toward Laurie. “And I would absolutely love to see the ranch.” She stood up. “I’ll get Amy Lynn ready to go, if I can pry her away from your mama, that is.”
She scooted out of the room in the blink of an eye, leaving Laurie alone with the most impossible man on earth.
“How is it that you have managed to twist that woman around your finger already?”
“Charm, darlin’. It used to work on you, too.”
“That was before I knew you better.”
“You really are going to have to do better than that, if you intend to insult me.”
She regarded him curiously. “You really do let my barbs roll right off your back, don’t you?”
“Most of them,” he agreed. His expression sobered. “Not all.”
“Funny,” she observed. “I never thought I got to you at all.”
“Except by leaving,” he said quietly. “You knew that one was a real killer, didn’t you?”
Laurie was startled by the genuine pain in his voice, the flash of vulnerability in eyes that normally twinkled with mischief. The accusation stung because it implied that she’d gone only to hurt him.
“I didn’t leave to make you miserable, Harlan Patrick. Surely you’ve figured that out by now. Or do you still think my music is some clever little game I play, a nasty habit you’re forced to tolerate?”
He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “No. I know how important your music is. I ought to. You’ve chosen it over everything else in your life.”
She frowned. “I won’t have this conversation with you again. It never changes. You try to make me feel guilty for loving what I do. I blame you for trying to take it away from me, for making me choose. What’s the point, Harlan Patrick? We always end up right back where we started.”
“Amy Lynn’s the point.”
“Amy Lynn is doing just fine with the things the way they are.”
“Now, maybe,” he conceded grudgingly. “She’s a baby. What happens when it’s time for her to go to school? You planning on dragging a tutor along on tour with you? Or do you intend to shuffle her off to some boarding school?”
“For heaven’s sakes, Harlan Patrick, it’ll be years and years before she goes to school,” she protested impatiently. “When the time comes, I’ll make whatever arrangements are necessary.”
“What about friends? How’s she supposed to have friends if she’s always on the go? A kid needs a home, roots, family, just the way you and I did.”
“You had that, not me,” Laurie countered. “I had a mother who struggled every day of her life to keep a roof over our head. That’s it. Talk about living with insecurity. Been there. Done that.”
She stared at him defiantly. “And I survived. It certainly wasn’t the same as you living all safe and secure out at White Pines, surrounded by family.”
“All the more reason why you should want what I had for Amy Lynn.”
“Who knows better than I do that you can get by with less?” she countered, even though the truth was that not a day of her youth had gone by that she hadn’t envied what Harlan Patrick had. Not the money so much, but the ranch and what it represented—history and family.
“And that’s what you want for Amy Lynn?” he inquired softly. “Less than the best?”
“That is not what I meant,” she said, shoving her chair back and leaping to her feet so she could pace in the small kitchen. He was twisting her words, trying to instill enough guilt so she would cave in and let