Midnight Rider. Diana Palmer

bookkeeper for our ranch, don’t you, and that I can budget to the bone?”

      He smiled slowly. “Maria sings your praises constantly. And even your father has to admit that you manage his affairs admirably.” His black eyes narrowed. “Your quick mind with figures would be an asset to me as well, Bernadette. And the fact that I find you desirable is a bonus.”

      She watched him with renewed interest. “You didn’t have to ask me this way,” she said, thinking out loud. “You could have courted me and pretended to be in love with me to get me to marry you, and I’d never have known the difference.”

      “Yes, I could have,” he agreed at once. “But I’d have known the difference. That’s a low, vile thing for any man to do, even to save his livelihood.” He let go of her hand. “I offer you an alliance of friends and a slaking of passions, when,” he added wickedly, “you have the courage to invite me into your bed. There are advantages and disadvantages. Weigh them carefully and let me know what you decide. But decide soon,” he added intently. “There isn’t much time.”

      “I promise you, I’ll think about it,” she said, trying to suppress her delight.

      He nodded. He smiled at her. “It might not be so bad,” he mused. “I have a way with women, and you need someone to make you take care of yourself, as well as independence from your father. It could be a good marriage.”

      “I’d still be a bargain bride,” she pointed out, despite her embarrassment at his bluntness.

      “With a Spanish master,” he murmured, and grinned. “But I promise to be patient.”

      She colored again. “You wicked man!”

      “One day,” he told her after he’d mounted his own horse, laughing softly, “you may be glad of that. Adiós, Bernadette!”