She laughed. “I probably should. Though I think she’s less likely to take one than I am.”

“A family trait, maybe?”

“Could be.”

“Families can be the hardest on those they love the most, Des.”

She nodded. “I don’t doubt for a second that my parents love me. My dad just has tunnel vision. He had this very rigid upbringing. His father was military, too. He only knows one way, and that’s his way. He brought that regimented military lifestyle into the home.”

“And you rebelled against it.”

She smiled. “I guess I did.”

“Do you think that’s why you decided to become an actress?”

She frowned. “You mean as an act of rebellion against my father? No. I really did fall in love with the craft. The rebellion part was just a bonus.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I had that part down, too. Parents can’t have all the fun torturing their kids. There has to be some payback.”

“Like hiding your mom’s makeup?”

“Like that. Among other things. She was so fussy she made it too easy.”

“And my dad was so rigid, it was easy to get him riled up.”

“Our kids will never have a chance. We’re too laid-back.”

She nodded. “Exactly. Plus, we know all the tricks.”

“Yeah, and everyone says this, but their kids still find a way.”

“True. Still, I’d like to think I’m smarter than my kids will be, and a lot more Zen than my parents ever were about the little things. Like career. As long as they’re happy, what does it matter what they want to do?”

“And getting dirty. Because aren’t all kids supposed to get mud on their clothes?” he asked.

“I think so. We’re going to be perfect parents.”

He grinned at her, and she realized they were sitting there talking about their children. Children they weren’t going to have together. But, oh, they’d have great kids. Wild little hellions who could ride horses as soon as they were old enough to be put on one. And the kids would put on plays for them in Logan’s big living room. The two of them would sit on the sofa and watch them, clapping when they finished.

It was a wild, ridiculous fantasy. One that would never come to fruition, because she and Logan were going to part ways as soon as the movie finished.

But it was a fun fantasy, because so far in her life all she’d seen in her future was movie on top of movie. Never a home, never kids.

Until now.

And she liked what she saw. She wanted that future. She ached for it so much it shocked her.

“You sure went quiet. Did that whole talking-about-kids thing freak you out?” he asked.

“Actually, no.” She picked up her wine and took a sip.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Actually, no.” She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “Did it freak you out?”

“No. I’m older than you, though.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s time I start thinking about settling down and having kids.”

“I don’t believe how old you are has much to do with when it’s the right time to start a family. Many people never have kids. Some have them way early, some not at all. My sister is committed to never having children.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “She doesn’t see herself as a parent—ever. Which is fine, because that’s her choice to make. She’s perfectly content to build a career. She says if she ever finds someone to marry, he’ll have to accept that she doesn’t want children.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ve known a few people—and some couples—who decided not to have kids. It comes down to a matter of choice for everyone. For me, it’s a legacy thing. I want to have someone to pass down my ownership in the ranch to.”

“There are your brothers.”

“That’s true. And they might have children who want to be a part of the ranching business. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Because your kids might want to be—oh, I don’t know . . .” She studied him for a few minutes.

He laughed. “What?”

“Fashion models. Or maybe sell cosmetics.”

He cocked a brow. “Now you’re assuming I’m going to have all girls.”

“What? Guys can’t become fashion models or sell cosmetics? Very sexist of you, McCormack.”

“Fine. My kids can do whatever the hell they want. Even become an actor or an actress. I just hope either one of my kids, or Luke’s or Reid’s, wants to be a damn rancher.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a rancher. If one of my kids wanted to do that, I’d be so proud of them.”

He gave her a searing look. “Seriously.”

“Of course. It’s a tough job, but an admirable one. Look at how hard you work. And look at the results. You’re building a legacy for your heirs—and for your brothers’ heirs, too. Not many people are tough enough to take that on. Who wouldn’t be proud to have their children be a part of that legacy?”

He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her very thoroughly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I should go and let you get some sleep. I’m sure you have a big day tomorrow, and so do I.”

She stood and walked him to the door. She wanted him to stay, but they had gone through some heavy subject matter tonight. Her background, and having kids. Legacies. Their futures, both of them avoiding the topic of melding those futures together.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, pulling her against him to give her one last, barn-burning kiss that made her regret letting him leave.

“Okay.”

He walked out and she shut and locked the door, then headed into her bedroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She climbed into her bed and grabbed her script, intending to run through her scenes for tomorrow. But all she could think about was Logan. Each time she tried to get into character, his face swam before her eyes.

After an hour, she gave up on the script, laying it on the nightstand. She shut out the light, wishing Logan were lying next to her. The bed seemed cold and empty without his body against hers.

When her phone rang, she grabbed it and smiled.