Seven
“I don’t think it’s right, that’s all I’m saying, Rex.” Dena looked at herself in the mirror over the sink in the master bedroom and frowned at the gray roots that were beginning to show starkly against her red hair. She had always been proud of her tresses, and now even they were beginning to turn on her, along with her face and neck, both of which showed far too many wrinkles and the bags under her eyes—well, it was small wonder she looked so strained, worried as she was about her daughters. How she’d be able to make herself radiant for the Caldwells’ barbecue next weekend nagged at her. She needed a new dress, shoes and more than a little cosmetic surgery. She finished brushing her hair and picked up her pack of cigarettes. “Why you hired that riffraff is beyond me.”
Rex stood behind the partially closed door to the walk-in closet. “Brig needed a job. He’s damned good with the horses, and Cassidy’s colt already threw her once. Didn’t want to take another chance.”
“But you don’t mind taking a chance with that McKenzie boy. And with our girls.” She saw him out of the corner of her eye, hanging up his robe. Standing in his boxer shorts, he was still an imposing man. Oh, he sagged a little around the middle, but his muscles still showed under his skin and his legs didn’t have an ounce of fat thanks to hours spent on the golf course. His hair was snow white, in sharp contrast to his black eyebrows, and his face, tanned from his days on the links, was handsome, even chiseled, except for the line of his jaw where the beginnings of jowls had already made themselves evident. Aging was a bitch. She lit up and noticed the tiny lines surrounding her lips as she sucked on her cigarette.
“I’m not taking a chance on the girls. What’re you talking about?” He threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt—the common locker-room garb instead of the burgundy velour jogging suit she’d bought him for their last anniversary. But she didn’t have time to argue with him about that now; besides, no one would see him and she had other problems on her mind—big problems concerning Brig McKenzie. Sunny’s wild boy.
Dena wouldn’t have liked Rex hiring Chase, Sunny McKenzie’s other son, but she could have understood it; Chase, from what the gossip mill churned out, was responsible, cared about his future, kept his nose clean and knew his station. At least he tried to do the right thing. He seemed a little more refined than his younger brother. But Brig—well, the common expression was that he was hell on wheels and had no respect for anything or anyone. He wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle, for God’s sake, like some kind of hoodlum or Hell’s Angel. She shuddered deep in the folds of her silk robe.
And Rex wasn’t worried.
This was no time for delicacies. Sometimes the only way to get through to her bullheaded husband was to hit him over the head with a verbal baseball bat. “It was bad enough you hiring that half-wit. The way he drools over the girls—”
“Look, Dena, I’m a respected member in the community, one of the richest men in Prosperity, and as such I have responsibilities to do some things that might not be economically sound—goodwill gestures. Then there’s the church. Father James seems to think that…oh, hell, you wouldn’t understand. The bottom line is that no one else will hire him and Willie’s a hard worker. Hasn’t given me a lick of trouble.” His jaw tightened stubbornly.
Rex was proud of his philanthropy, and when it came to Willie—the subject of firing him was and always would be taboo. Dena had learned that long ago when Rex had hired the moron. She’d had a fit then but her husband had been adamant. Several times since then, when tools or spare parts had been missing or stolen, she’d suggested Rex fire Willie, but the subject was always closed. Rex wasn’t about to give in.
She drew on her cigarette, didn’t like the looks of herself in the mirror and squashed the damned Viceroy out in the silver tray near the sink. She had to quit. The lines around her eyes from squinting through smoke were becoming too noticeable. “Brig McKenzie’s got a reputation, you and I both know it. He drinks too much even though he’s underage then gets into fights. He’s been fired from God-only-knows how many jobs and beds any woman he can get his hands on.”
“You don’t know that. It’s all small-town gossip.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, Rex. Just remember his roots. He comes from trash.”
“Sunny McKenzie—”
“Is trash and her husband, or ex-husband, wasn’t much better. A drunk with a bad temper.” She turned away from the sink and glared at her husband. “The more you do for that family, the more the rumors about you…” Her voice failed her, and she shuddered.
“Again, it’s just gossip.”
“That I hear over and over. At the country club, while playing bridge, when I get my hair done, even after mass. I’m telling you, Rex, you’ve got to stop bending over backward for Sunny and her boys!”
“I help other families as well. When husbands are out of work or little kids get sick—”
“—or nearly drown.”
He stared at her hard “That was a long time ago,” he warned. “Sunny needed help. Her husband walked out on her.”
“I know and you know, but people still talk,” she said, the ugly rumors always just under the surface of her consciousness. “It’s bad enough you visit Lucretia’s grave every week but—”
“Don’t bring her into this,” he commanded in the tone he reserved for her when he was particularly angry, a belittling tone.
She wouldn’t push him about Lucretia, but she couldn’t give up on the issue at hand. “Look, Rex, you and I both know that the only thing Brig McKenzie’s got going for him is his good looks and the fact that he’s shrewd as hell—he knows how to play people to get what he wants. Look how he played you.”
“He didn’t play me,” Rex grumbled as he strode back to their bedroom.
She shot a look that silently called him a fool. “That boy knows exactly what he’s doing, and mark my words, he’s trouble, the likes of which we’ve never seen.” She slid into her pink slippers and padded after him. He was already seated on his stationary bike, pedaling madly, sweat breaking out across his forehead. The armoire was open, displaying the television, where beautiful women in police uniforms were doing menial tasks. Charlie’s Angels, one of Rex’s favorite programs, was about to be aired. “I don’t want Cassidy hanging around him. I think she’s developing a crush on him.”
“Cassidy? She’s just a kid.”
“Have you taken a good look at her lately, Rex?” Dena asked, a little wounded. In Rex’s opinion Cassidy would never be anything more than his second daughter, second in line and second best. He never said as much, but it was obvious in the subtle little ways that Dena found so irritating and painful.
“She’s not interested in boys.”
“Not boys, just Brig. She can’t stay away from him.”
“That’s because of her horse. It has nothing to do with McKenzie.”
“Open your eyes, Rex. She’s sixteen and…well, I remember how I was at that age.”
“You can’t stop her from hanging out at the stable.”
Dena sighed. “No, but I can keep my eye on her and see that she stays away from that white trash. As for Angie, God knows I can’t control her, she’s your daughter, but if I were you, I’d forbid her to go anywhere near him.”
“She doesn’t.”
Dena shook her head. “I’ve never thought of you as a fool, Rex, but maybe I was wrong.” She settled onto the king-sized bed and plumped the pillows up against the headboard.
Dena usually didn’t criticize Angie because Rex adored the girl and treated her as if she were royalty. He was more flagrantly devoted to Angie than he was to Cassidy; it was obvious to everyone in the house. Dena knew the reason why. Angie was Lucretia’s daughter, and though his first wife had been dead for years, Rex still revered her—lit candles for her at mass, talked and acted as if she were some kind of saint.
The woman had taken her own life, for crying out loud, and everyone knew that suicide was a sin. But still Rex was faithful to Lucretia’s memory and Dena was fairly certain, were she to die, Rex wouldn’t go off lighting candles and saying prayers and worshipping her for nearly two decades.
“Angie’s been at St. Therese’s for four years, and the nuns have given her a good, strong moral education. Don’t worry about her. Angie’s a good girl.” He was beginning to really sweat now, and the bicycle was whirring too loudly for him to hear the dialogue on the television. Before she could say a word, he clicked the remote and the television boomed a little louder through the bedroom.
“Is Derrick home yet?” Angie, wearing a swimsuit cover-up, her sandals dangling from her fingers, tiptoed through the door of Cassidy’s room and plopped onto the corner of the bed.
Cassidy was leafing through a magazine. “Don’t know.”
“He’s out with Felicity, isn’t he?”
Cassidy lifted a shoulder. Ever since Angie had been on a campaign to win Brig’s heart, Cassidy had found it difficult to be civil to her older sister. Not that Brig wasn’t old enough to know better, and rumor had it that he’d known plenty of women. But none so pretty nor with such a high social station as Angie, Cassidy decided. Angie would be hard—make that nearly impossible—for any man to resist.
“Well, if he shows up here, will you cover for me?”
“Why?” Cassidy was instantly suspicious.
“He doesn’t like me seeing Brig.”
“Seeing Brig—as in dating?” Cassidy said, astounded. Sure, she’d known that Angie had been coming on to Brig, she’d even seen her older sister buzz a kiss across Brig’s cheek, but she’d hardly call it seeing Brig.
“Well, not really dating, at least not yet. But soon. I’m gonna ask him to take me to the Caldwells’ barbecue at the Country Club. Won’t that tick a few people off?” She giggled and her eyes twinkled at that thought. “Anyway, I’m s’posed to meet him tonight down by the pool, and Mom and Dad, they’ll be asleep as soon as the eleven o’clock news is over, so I shouldn’t have to worry about them. The servants are all tucked away and you know what the deal is, so that only leaves Derrick.”
“Have you already asked Brig to the barbecue?” Cassidy felt her stomach knot.
“No, not yet.”
“But you think he’ll go.”
“Of course he’ll go. It’s one of the biggest events of the season, and the poor kids in town are all dying to be invited.”
“It’s hard to imagine that Brig would care.”
Angie’s eyebrows quirked. “What’s this, Cass? A little jealousy?”
“’Course not.”
“Hmmm.” Angie’s full lips pulled into a knowing grin. “Well, he’s got a brother, you know. Probably even more handsome than Brig. I know for a fact that Chase McKenzie would cut off his right arm for an invitation to the party.”
“So why don’t you ask him?”
“Because he’s too hungry. Too anxious and eager. Kind of like Bobby and Jed. But Brig…” She stared through the open window and sighed loudly. “I guess I’m attracted to him because he’s so cocky and self-assured. So strong. He does what he wants when he wants and doesn’t give a damn about the circumstances.” Her face clouded over and she bit into her lower lip. “In some ways we’re a lot alike.”
“You and Brig?” Cassidy snorted. “Give me a break.”
Angie’s touch of melancholy lasted only a second and was quickly replaced by a naughty smile that turned her sister’s stomach.
Steaming inside, Cassidy aimed the remote control to the little television on her bureau. She needed noise—distraction—anything to keep her mind from running in the painfully familiar circles it took when she thought of Brig and Angie together.
“So run interference for me, will you? If Derrick—well, or anyone for that matter—starts asking questions, just turn on your desk lamp by the window and I’ll get the message. Okay?”
“I don’t know what good that will do.”
“It’s just a warning. Gives me time to head back to the house and come up with a logical story—you know, something about not being able to sleep and needing a midnight swim.”
“Fine,” Cassidy said without any inflection, though inside she was dying a thousand deaths.
Picking up her flip-flops, Angie slid off the bed and padded softly to the door. “Just remember the signal. That’s all you have to do.” She flashed Cassidy a brilliant smile. “I owe you one, Cass,” she said, then opened the door so that it barely creaked. After checking the hallway, she disappeared and Cassidy was left with a feeling of incredible despair.
She flipped through the stations but didn’t even see the images on the television screen. Instead, vivid pictures of Brig and Angie, their bodies wet from swimming naked in the pool, boiled through her mind.
She felt sick inside. Angie hadn’t been kidding about Brig. She was going to seduce him. And Brig was eating it up!
Slamming her fist into her pillow, Cassidy stared out her open bedroom window to the dark sky, where stars winked in the dark heavens. A lazy half-moon hung low over the horizon. She rolled out of bed and gazed through the darkness. The breeze was warm though it was the coolest part of the day, and it whispered through her nightgown, pressing the soft cotton to her body.
She told herself it didn’t matter, that what Brig did and with whom was none of her business, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from watching in horrified fascination as Angie set her plan into motion.
For the first time in her life Angie had taken an interest in the horses, and every time Brig was working with the stock, Angie found an excuse to hang around the stable and paddocks. She had learned to fold her arms over the top rail and talk to him, smile whenever he turned and faced her, as well as stand as close to him as possible without touching when a fence didn’t separate them. She’d invited him swimming and riding, but he’d always declined, citing work, and secretly Cassidy had been triumphant. Maybe he wouldn’t be tricked like all the other boys that seemed to swarm around the ranch like bothersome flies.
The closer it got to the end of the summer, the more the boys came, as if they knew Angie would be out of reach come the end of September when she went off to college.
Cassidy doubted that Brig McKenzie would be any different. Didn’t he already have a reputation as a ladies’ man, and didn’t Angie always get what she wanted? She liked driving men to the point of distraction—Jed Baker and Bobby Alonzo were proof of her innate ability.
Glancing at the bed, Cassidy frowned. She couldn’t sleep. It was too hot in her room, the bedsheets were cloying, her mind spinning with images of Brig and Angie. She had to do something, get out, away from the house.
Then she knew. It had been over three weeks since she’d been thrown from Remmington and her shoulder was nearly back to normal. Brig had no intention of ever letting her ride her horse again, so she’d just have to do it behind his back. Served him right, anyway. The way he looked at Angie!
And why should she stay and be lookout for her sister? Let her get caught for once. It was time their father, who worshipped the ground Angie walked on, knew the real story. If Rex caught her with Brig, maybe Angie wouldn’t be such a goddess in his eyes. Not that it mattered. Cassidy would never have wanted the kind of attention her father lavished on Angie. She was content being who she was, doing what she did. She’d never once been jealous of Angie’s position of princess—with the title came too much pressure. No, Cassidy was comfortable with her relationship with her father, though she wished her mother, who was always pushing her to be more like her older sister, would back off.
She threw on a pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt, snapped a rubber band around her wild, uncombed hair and, carrying an old pair of sneakers, slipped quietly from her room and down the back stairs. As Angie had predicted, no one was up.
Creeping softly through the back door, Cassidy cringed as the screen’s hinges squeaked loudly, and Bones, her father’s old border collie, lifted his head and gave one low, gruff bark.
“Shh. It’s only me.”
The dog wagged his tail, thumping it on the floorboards of the back porch. She thought of going directly to the stable, but paused in the shadows of a rhododendron.
She wondered if Angie was bluffing. Crossing her fingers, she crept around the corner of the house and silently along a flagstone path that weaved through the rose garden still fragrant with heavy blossoms. After ducking under the arbor and down a few terraced steps, she was near the pool.
The soft sound of a giggle rippled over the water, and as Cassidy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Angie swimming gracefully and completely naked. Her tanned body was white where her suit usually covered her, and her clothes had been left carelessly on the edge of the pool.
Cassidy’s heart seemed to fall to the ground as Angie swam through the water, sleek and feminine, her nipples dark disks against the white skin of her breasts, a thatch of black hair visible at the apex of her legs. So feminine. So seductive.
Bile climbed up Cassidy’s throat.
The scratch of a match being struck sizzled through the air, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
The acrid scent of sparking phosphorous wafted on a slow-moving breeze, and she knew with sickening certainty that Brig hadn’t been able to ignore Angie’s attempts at seduction. He’d come and was here, watching her display.
She scanned the patio surrounding the pool and found him, standing near the diving board, the toes of his cowboy boots jutting over the water. The angles of his face were illuminated in gold as he bent down, cupped the end of his cigarette and lit up. Inhaling deeply, he waved out the match, and that tiny flame of light disappeared.
Angie broke the surface just beneath his feet. She tried to cover herself while treading water but it was impossible. Sexy glimpses of her rump and breasts escaped.
“I…I didn’t expect you so early,” she said, her voice a whisper.
He checked his watch but didn’t say a word. Just smoked.
“Just give me a minute to get into my clothes.” She swam to the side of the pool, hoisted herself out of the water, shook her hair and stepped quickly into her suit and cover-up, as if she were truly embarrassed.
Heart pounding, Cassidy watched as Angie walked back up to Brig and threw out a hip.
“What is it you want?” he asked.
Angie grinned up at him. “Lots of things.” Bold enough to touch him on the forearm, she sighed.
He grabbed her quickly, holding her at arm’s length as he glowered at her. “Maybe you’d better quit playing games. You said you wanted to meet me, that it was important.”
“I need a date,” she blurted out.
He snorted. “A date? You? You’ve got more dates than your old man has mill workers.”
“I know, but this is special and I don’t want to go with just anyone.” Tossing her damp hair off her face, she stared up at him, her face nearly luminescent in the moonlight. “I want you to take me to the Caldwells’ barbecue.” She wound her arms around his neck and sighed. “It’s a big deal and I can’t stand the thought of going with one of the boys.” She stood on her tiptoes, grabbed the cigarette from his lips and tossed it onto the wet cement surrounding the pool. The ashes sizzled before dying. Brushing her lips slowly over his, she said, “Come on, Brig. Wouldn’t you love it? It would kind of be like crashing a party, and not just any party. This is a major social event.”
“Except I’d be with you,” he said warily.
Her smile flashed in the night. “Would that be so bad? You’d be the envy of every boy in town.”
“Maybe I don’t give a damn about that.”
“And maybe you do,” she whispered before kissing him again. This time he didn’t resist. The arms that had held her at bay surrounded her, yanking her willing body close to his. He let out a low, deep growl that caused Cassidy’s blood to tingle as he kissed Angie with an angry ferocity that was pure animal lust.
Cassidy had to bite back the little squeak of protest that rose in her throat as Angie wrapped a calf around his leg. Unable to watch another second, Cassidy turned too quickly. Her foot caught on a root and she stumbled, her injured shoulder slamming against a tree. Pain jolted up her arm, but she kept running, trying to ignore the dampness on her cheeks. Foolishly, she’d begun to cry.
Over Brig McKenzie.
Who thought of her as a pesky little kid.
Rage and impotence swept through her, and she knew what she had to do. Let Brig and Angie make out and do whatever they wanted; it didn’t matter. But Cassidy was done waiting around and spying on her older sister. She raced through the shadows to the stable. Though her shoulder still ached a little, she was certain she could handle Remmington, and she was going to ride that colt so fast the images of Brig and Angie would be forced out of her mind.
From this minute on, she didn’t care what they did. Yet as she opened the door to the stable, she wished that she was the woman in Brig’s arms, that she was kissing him, that she was feeling the hard weight of his body pinning her to the ground. Because, unlike Angie, Cassidy, at sixteen, was certain she was in love with Brig McKenzie and she hated herself for it.