“Elizabeth Dalton?”

Beth flinched. Her name sounded more like a curse coming from those sensuous lips. “Yes.” She sat the empty cup carefully on the table as the waitress scurried away.

“Lang Paxton. You’re late.”

“I’m…” Beth shook her head, finally finding her voice. The lean cowboy with his smoldering silver-gray eyes, chiseled features and strands of inky black hair showing beneath the battered tan Stetson appeared bigger than life with shoulders that seemed to stretch for a mile beneath the heavily lined denim coat he wore. His imposing height and steely glare had momentarily intimidated her. “I’m late?” Her eyebrows rose, her tone bitingly sarcastic.

“You were supposed to wait at the airstrip.”

If she’d thought to penetrate his arrogant air, she’d been mistaken. She did, however, stick with the sarcasm. “I decided I didn’t want to freeze to death.” She stood, looking up at his towering height without fear. “You were late.”

“A ranch doesn’t always run on a schedule, as you should know from all of your—research.” He made the word sound like a bad joke. “I’ve spent valuable time tracking you down and I don’t have any more time to waste, so let’s go.”

Once more, Beth blinked at his high-handed attitude, standing in place as he turned away. Luckily, the small café was mostly empty. It being mid-morning, Beth could only assume that most people were at work and had no doubt that in only an hour or so, the place would fill to capacity with those seeking a hearty lunch. When the tall cowboy turned back, his black brows raised in silent question, she nodded toward her bags sitting near the wall behind her table.

“A little help, please?”

With an audible sigh of frustration, he retraced his steps and picked up the suitcase and small carry-on. “This it?” His expression turned skeptical.

“Except for Jackson.” Beth leaned down and gently pulled the small basket from under the table.

“You have a kid?”

Beth’s brows rose at his strident tone. Straightening, she held the basket with the sleeping animal inside close to her chest. “A four-legged one, yes.”

“A cat? Figures.”

Was that some kind of swipe at her spinsterhood, Beth wondered? Exactly what had Maggie told her brother other than that Beth was a romance writer in need of a little perspective? Surely, she hadn’t gone into personal detail. No, she decided. There was no way Maggie would have told her brother that Beth hadn’t had a date in over a year. Maggie was her friend.

But she’s his sister.

“Jack resents that and so do I. He’s a mighty dog.” She pulled back the blanket draped over the basket handle to reveal the animal inside.

Lang peered down at the white form held so securely by the woman who had, frankly, surprised him. He’d expected some matronly lady with a square jaw, a tightly secured bun and big, horn-rimmed glasses highlighting eyes blinded by romantic fantasy. Instead, the woman his sister called Beth was younger than he’d expected and, from what he could see in spite of the puffy coat she wore, had a curvy body that had certainly made his own take notice as well as a feisty spirit that she didn’t try to hide. Her brilliant blue eyes beneath the fringed bangs of her thick auburn tresses snapped up at him.

“Looks more like a puff of cotton to me. Better make sure he stays inside.”