CHAPTER NINE
“Jonah McKee was a bastard. He did things his own way. Played by his own rules.” Sloan’s voice sounded as if he were in the next room rather than miles away at his ranch near Warm Springs.
Dani blew her bangs out of her eyes and sighed. Wrapping the telephone cord around her hand, she leaned against the wall. “Jonah’s dead now. It’s time to fix things.”
“I know. I’m checking on a couple of leads, but they may turn out to be nothing. That private hospital has been sold two times, and now is part of a huge conglomerate. The doctor’s retired, living up on some lake in Canada near Banff somewhere, and the lawyer who handled the adoption is practicing in Detroit—corporate stuff. Since I can’t find a birth certificate listing you as the mother, I’m checking all boys born around that date, but I’ve got to tell you, there isn’t even an admitting record with your name on it.”
Dani’s heart turned to stone. “I was there, damn it, and I had my baby twelve hours later.”
“I know. I’m still checking with the staff, but there’s been a tremendous turnover in the past eleven years.”
“Great.”
“If you can come up with some names—the nurses that took care of you or the baby—”
“I can’t remember any,” she said, closing her eyes and conjuring up the faces of the two women who were in the delivery room. A large, buxom nurse took the baby to the scales and cleaned him off, and another one, a petite woman with a cap and black hair had held Dani’s hand, kept encouraging her during the delivery. Dani had never noticed their names. “It was so long ago,” she said, feeling defeated. “I was just a kid.”
“Keep working on it.”
“I will,” she said.
“And I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks.” Dani hung up her new telephone and dropped into a chair. She was dead tired and Sloan’s call only deflated her. After eleven years of waiting, she was suddenly impatient, anxious to find her missing son. She’d already listed her name with the various social agencies; now she had to wait until one of them contacted her—if they were so inclined—or until Sloan dug up more information.
She grabbed the glass of lemonade she’d poured. Ice cubes clinked as she pressed the glass to her head in hopes of warding off another headache. Every muscle in her body ached and now she was depressed. Jonah McKee had covered his tracks, and her baby’s tracks, as well.
“You won’t beat me,” she vowed as if Jonah could hear her, as if she had to make him understand her determination to find her child. “This is just a setback, that’s all,” she told herself. “What did you expect?”
She heard the sound of a truck pull into the yard and turned to look out the window. She half expected Jack to stop by, but the rig parked near the stables wasn’t Jack’s old pickup. A Jeep of some sort—a couple of years old from the looks of it—backed into Brand’s spot in the garage below Dani’s apartment. A minute later, Brand, wearing sunglasses, his jacket slung over his shoulder, an overnight bag in one hand, emerged. Along with him was a gawky kid who looked somewhere around thirteen.
The boy was lanky, with shorts that brushed his knees, coffee brown hair that flopped around his ears and features that were too big for his face. He swaggered as he walked and carried a skateboard with him. A kid with an attitude. She smiled; he reminded her a little of Brand as a boy and she realized that this must be his brother.
To her horror, they mounted the steps to her apartment. Within seconds, there was a series of loud raps on her door.
Great. Just what she needed. It was difficult enough to deal with Brand, a man she couldn’t look at without feeling her pulse jump. Somehow she had to get over this fascination. But then her thoughts turned back to the night in his kitchen, her bathrobe gaping open, his mouth touching her intimately, and her insides turned to jelly.
“Coming,” she yelled as Solomon, startled from a nap on top of her desk, bolted across the room. Dani opened the door to find Brandon standing on the landing. His easy smile was in place, his gaze as blue as the summer sky. The boy hung back suspiciously, staring at her through a shank of long hair that hid his eyes.
“This is my brother, Chris,” Brand said as she stepped out of the way, silently inviting them inside. “Chris—Dani Stewart. She’s my landlord.”
“Hi,” the boy mumbled, not bothering to meet her gaze.
“Hi.” Dani waved to her small kitchen. “I was just having some lemonade. How about you?”
The kid glanced at Brand. “Nah. Thanks.” He looked as if he’d rather be any place on earth than her cramped quarters.
“Sure?” Maybe he was just being polite. “I’ve got a pitcher already made.” She turned her attention to Brand and steadfastly pushed aside all memories of their night together. “How about you?” God, her face felt tight, her smile plastic.
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
Dani poured another couple of glasses. “Here ya go.” She smothered a smile when Chris swallowed half his down in one long gulp.
Brand, amused, caught her gaze over the rim of his glass as the boy finished his drink. Without a word, Dani refilled it.
“Chris is gonna be staying with me for a few days,” Brand explained. “I promised him that if you had the time, I’d buy him some riding lessons.”
Dani managed to hide her surprise. Boys this kid’s age weren’t usually interested in riding horses—they were already primed for cars. “Oh, well, sure. I, um, could do it tomorrow,” she said, mentally checking her schedule. “In the afternoon, around three?”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Chris studied the floor, then he tossed his hair from his eyes and Dani’s breath caught for a second. He looked so much like his brother. Only the eyes were different. Chris’s were a hazel green and not quite so deep set as Brandon’s, his face a little rounder, his chin not so square but time would file off the softer edges. “I think horses are a pain,” he grumbled.
Dani shot Brandon a look. “So why do you want to ride?” she asked the boy.
“It was his idea.” He hitched his chin toward Brandon.
“Oh,” What was going on here?
A smile tugged at Brandon’s lips. “I told him you were a hotshot rodeo rider.”
“That was a long time ago.”
The kid, who had just the hint of peach fuzz on his upper lip seemed suddenly defiant. “Brandon says you used to race horses and do tricks on them.”
“Brandon remembers a lot,” she said, curiously eyeing the pair. While she and Brandon were seeing each other, she hadn’t competed in one rodeo. She’d stopped when she was about sixteen, at a time when she’d become more interested in boys than horses and when she’d realized that she couldn’t count on prize money if she didn’t win and she needed a steady job with wages she could depend upon. That’s when she’d begun to wait tables and collect tips.
“Can you really stand on your head in the saddle?” Finishing his drink, he sucked on an ice cube, then cracked it with his back teeth.
She laughed and shook her head. “No.”
“What about picking up a handkerchief with your teeth while the horse is running?” The ice cube crunched loudly.
“Oh, Lord, no.” She pinned Brandon with a knowing glance. “Is that what you’ve been telling him?”
“Just repeating what I heard.”
“And embellishing a bit, I’ll bet.” She sent Chris a chagrined smile. “I just raced and trained horses. I could sit backward and get up on my knees, but that’s about it. Everything else your brother’s been pitching to you has been a big stretch of the imagination.”
Chris rolled his eyes as if to say “big deal.” He shifted from one foot to the other and studied her carefully. Dani was painfully aware of her appearance—dirty and sweaty clothes, her hair pulled back, her face probably streaked with dust, without a hint of makeup. What had Brandon thought he would accomplish by bringing him here?
“I don’t like horses,” Chris stated baldly.
“Why not?”
“They’re stupid.”
Dani saw instant red. She thought of all the horses she’d worked with over the years, all the soft noses, liquid eyes and quick hooves. “Horses are incredibly bright creatures,” she said, hating the sound of her voice—almost preachy, it was. “They’re loyal, courageous, and will, if you treat them well, do anything for you. And that,” she said with a crisp smile, “is a lot more than you can say for most people.”
Chris made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.
“Now, I’ll admit that some of them can be royal pains, a few are mean spirited, and some aren’t as bright as others, but in general, they’re as smart as they need to be.”
“Right.” Sarcasm dripped off his words.
Brandon sent him a look that could melt lead. “He’ll be ready tomorrow at three.” He placed his empty glass in the sink and Chris followed suit. “Thanks, Dani.”
“No problem,” she said, though it was a lie. Everything with Brandon was a problem. Within seconds, they were gone, out the door and down the steps.
Dani should have been relieved. Instead, she felt disheartened. The apartment seemed strangely empty without Brandon and his cocky half brother.
* * *
“I guess I should warn you about Chris.” Brand’s voice caught her off guard. She’d just closed the stable door and the soft chorus of crickets whispered through the night. No quiet cough or sound of gravel crunching under boots had signaled his approach. He was waiting for her, sitting on the top rail of the fence, his hands braced around the old wood on either side of him. The moon, not quite full, rode high in the sky and cast its silvery glow over the landscape.
“What’s to know?” she asked, walking closer to him and seeing the starlight catch in his eyes. Her heart did a silly little flip and began to pound.
“He might be here a lot.”
“Fine with me,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I like kids.”
“He’s trouble.”
“Weren’t we all?”
Brand chuckled softly. “I blamed my . . . well, trouble with the law on the fact that I didn’t have a dad hanging around pointing me in the right direction, though my mother tried her best. But I probably would’ve been hell on wheels even if old Kendall had been in the picture. Chris was with his dad for quite a while, but he’s still starting to rebel.”
“It’s all part of growing up. Besides, Chris seems older than eleven.”
“Always has,” Brand said, then frowned. “I didn’t know him much when he was a little kid—didn’t even see my ma all the while she was pregnant or the first couple years of Chris’s life—too caught up in my own, I guess, and I never cared much for Al Cunningham. Still don’t.” His skin seemed to tighten over his face. “He sure doesn’t seem to give two cents for a kid he helped bring into the world.”
“Not all men are cut out to be fathers,” she said, the pain in her voice evident.
“Then they shouldn’t be,” he said flatly, and she died a little inside. “Anyway, Chris is okay. I didn’t mean to stick you with him. I just thought he should find some different outlets for all that restless energy.” He paused, looked down at her, then toward the house where lights were glowing in warm patches. “Yeah, he seems older than he is—more like thirteen or fourteen. The girls are already calling.” His smile was infectious—a cocky white slash in the darkness—and Dani couldn’t help but respond.
“He’s cute, in that awkward preteen way. I bet the phone calls don’t stop.”
“Ma’s worried.”
“Why? Didn’t they call you when you were Chris’s age?”
Brand rubbed his chin. “I don’t remember it that way, but Ma seems to think so.”
“She probably knows.”
He hopped down from the fence and dusted his hands on his jeans. “Yeah, I suppose.” The levity had left his voice and he was so close to her, she could feel his heat. Arms folded over his chest, he leaned over the top rail while eyeing the moon-drenched fields where the animals still grazed lazily, dark shapes against the hillside.
“So this is it, isn’t it? Your dream.”
“Yeah,” she admitted, thinking that owning the ranch was only part of her dream. The other included finding her son. “I’ve wanted it for a long time.”
He placed an arm around her shoulders and it seemed only natural to rest her head against his chest. She heard the soft, steady thump of his heart, almost an echo of her own. “You’ll get it,” he said with quiet encouragement. “You’re the kind of woman who gets what she wants.”
Her heart nearly broke. If only he knew the truth of her life; if only he could see past the lies. She felt moved and gazed for a while at the sky while wondering if this was the right time to tell him they had a son.
Turning, he slid a hand to her face, and with his hand on her throat, gently tipped her chin upward, forcing her to stare into his eyes. Slowly, as if searching her face for answers, he kissed her, his lips bold as they claimed hers, his muted groan an answer to the soft cry in her throat.
Closing her eyes, she felt his arms clamp more tightly around her, drowned in the smell and touch of him. His tongue slipped between her teeth and she opened to him, kissing him fiercely, letting the wonder of the moment lock them together as if for all eternity.
“Dani,” he whispered hoarsely as one of his hands rounded over her bottom and rubbed against the worn denim, drawing her close between his legs where she could feel the hard bulge in his crotch. Desire thundered through her blood. “Damn it, Dani, you make me crazy.”
“Me?” she whispered.
“You. Everything I thought I believed in is turned upside down and inside out when I’m with you and all I want to do is carry you into the house and throw you on my bed.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t even say it.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.” To prove his point, he took her finger into his mouth and gently sucked.
Her insides turned to liquid fire and she wanted to give in to the passion that roared through her. Delicious, seductive sensations curled through her body until she pulled her finger away and took a step backward. “This can’t happen,” she said. “I—I think I said it before.”
“And I think it’s inevitable.”
“No way, Brand.” Shaking her head, she drew in a deep, mind-clearing breath. “I don’t want to get involved with you . . . with anyone. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
He barked out a laugh. “You’re pretty young to make that kind of a statement.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Because of Jeff?” he asked, and a quiet fury flashed in his eyes.
Because of you! “Partly.”
“And the other part?”
“I just want to be my own woman, okay? I don’t need a man in my life. Not as a lover and certainly not as a husband.”
“No one said anything about marriage,” he returned. And Dani felt some little ray of hope wither and die within her.
“Good thing, ’cause I’m not interested. Nor do I play house. Look, I’m not trying to be a prude or one of those . . . what do they call them, born-again virgins or something. I just don’t want to get into anything that would be a mess to get out of.” She tried to step back, but his arms tightened around her waist.
“We’re going to be living next to each other for a long time,” he said slowly, his breath whispering over his face. “Do you honestly think we can ignore what’s happening here?”
“I sure hope we can,” she replied, “because I’m not into replaying the mistakes of my youth.”
“You and I were a mistake?” he asked, one dark brow arching in challenge.
“The biggest,” she lied and worked her way out of his uneasy embrace.
“Why was that?”
Because you broke my heart, you bastard. “Because it didn’t work out,” she said, turning on her heel and hurrying to the garage. She ran up the stairs, flew through the door and locked it behind her. Then she laughed. What was she afraid of? That he would chase her, catch up with her, throw her on the bed and make love to her until dawn? That she would be a ravaged, satiated woman in the morning? That she’d wake up to find Brandon, the dark shadow of his beard coloring his jaw, staring down at her, ready to make love again? Her knees went weak at the thought. Good grief, she was a fool.
She started unbuttoning her blouse and walked into the bathroom. Ignoring the stained shower stall, she turned the water on full blast, shrieked as the cold jets stung her body and waited until the water would do the trick, freeze her blood, shrivel up her desire and set her free from wickedly wanton thoughts of Brandon Scarlotti.
He wasn’t even the same man she remembered. He’d traded in his Harley for a Mercedes—no, now a Jeep, she reminded herself—and given up his battered denim vests for designer leather jackets and expensive suits. “Heaven help me,” she whispered. Placing both palms on the side of the stall, she faced the pathetic stream of icy water and ducked her head under the frigid spray. Right now, Brandon Scarlotti reeked of money and power and wasn’t the same man who’d ridden out of her life twelve years ago. She’d loved a wild boy who spit in the face of authority. She couldn’t be attracted to the new Brandon, all clean and upright, a man used to riding in corporate jets and having his orders obeyed. He was just too damned polished these days.
Dani lathered up, turned on the warm water and told herself she would never again be played for a fool. And certainly not by the same man. She was living life by her rules and come hell or high water, Brandon Scarlotti wasn’t going to waltz back into her life and foul it all up for her. She just plain wouldn’t let him. Even if it killed her.
* * *
The kid wasn’t too good on a horse. Oh, he managed to stay in the saddle, but when asked to turn the animal to the right or left, Chris was all thumbs.
“A bike or a board is easier,” he complained when his mount stood in the middle of the corral refusing to move. He pulled on one rein, then the other. “They don’t have minds of their own.”
“I know. That’s what’s so great about animals,” Dani said, walking forward and showing Chris how to hold the reins in one hand and lay the leather straps alongside the gelding’s neck. “Now, cluck your tongue and give him a little nudge with your knees or heels, but nothing too hard.”
Chris made some feeble attempts at tongue clucking and the horse, a bay named Gilder, ambled to the left. “Hey, how about that!” Chris laughed. “Does he go any faster?”
“Lots, but first let’s get some basics down, like how to make him turn or stop. Then we’ll talk about second gear.” Dani worked with him in the paddock for about forty-five minutes and Chris, a quick learner, showed more interest than she had anticipated. A few times when he was especially excited, she got a glimpse of the little boy he had once been, instead of the attitude he wore like some kind of medal. Though loath to admit it, he seemed to enjoy riding Gilder, who had a sweet temperament but, upon command, could explode into a gallop that would take a boy’s breath away.
“Can’t we go out in the fields, make him run?” Chris asked after nearly two hours of instruction about care of the animal, tack and general signals to the horse.
“Not until I know that you’ll think of him more as a partner than a machine.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, rolling his big mischievous eyes. “Come on, partner, let’s show her what we can really do.”
“Time enough for that later,” Dani said.
“When?”
“How about tomorrow?” She mentally calculated. Chris wasn’t a natural in the saddle, but he was learning. And he was quick—sharp as the proverbial tack. But he still wouldn’t let go of his cocky I’m-sooo-cool attitude that would eventually get in his way. He seemed to like to show off or prove himself.
“When?”
“I could make a picnic lunch—although I’m not much of a cook, but I think I might be able to put a couple of sandwiches together and find a Coke or two. We could ride up to the bluff—from there you can see across the valley—and catch a glimpse of Elkhorn Lake, where your brother is building his resort.”
“Cool,” Chris said with more enthusiasm than she expected. He even went so far as to let a ghost of a smile play upon his lips before he turned surly again.
Dani showed the boy how to cool off his mount, how much water should be given after a long ride, how to remove the saddle and bridle, where the blankets were kept, how to brush a horse and avoid getting kicked. By the time they were finished, Brandon drove into the yard, his Jeep sporting a film of dust.
“How’d the lesson go?” Brandon asked as Dani and Chris washed off at the old pump near the back porch, a relic from the days before indoor plumbing.
“A snap,” Chris replied. “I’m ready for racing.”
“Well, almost,” Dani said wryly. “We still have a few bugs to work out.”
“Tomorrow we’re going up to the bluff for a picnic,” Chris said. “Wanna come?”
“On a horse?” Brandon glanced skeptically at Dani.
Chris’s eyes sharpened. “What? You don’t ride?”
“Not for a long time.”
“It’s just like a bike,” Dani observed. “Once you learn, you never forget.”
“Right. You’ll remind my horse of that?” he said.
She grinned widely, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to avoid him whatever the cost. “All part of the package deal.”
“How can I pass it up?”
“You can’t,” Chris said, and Dani wondered what she was getting herself into with Brandon and his devil-be-damned half brother. She had problems enough, she reminded herself, without getting involved with them. But then she just couldn’t help herself and why should she? A day up at the bluff would be pleasant, and in her mind she was already figuring out what to pack for lunch—something heartier than her usual fare of crackers, an apple and a can of diet pop. “Come on, Brand,” Chris said, shoving a baseball cap on his head backward. “We’ll have a blast.”
* * *
With Dani in the lead, they rode along a dusty trail that wound upward through the pines to the highest ridge of rimrock. Dani always found the view breathtaking, the sky so close she was certain God was nearby.
A few wispy clouds dared shift across the blue sky, and far below, in the valley that stretched for miles, was a view of one corner of Elkhorn Lake. Deep, clear water reflected the azure summer sky.
“So that’s where you’re gonna build the resort?” Chris asked as he eyed the sun-dappled waters.
“On the north end,” Brand replied. For someone who had acted as if riding a horse was about as appealing as catching rattlesnakes with his bare hands, he’d done a fair job of riding—just as he had all those years ago.
Chris, after a slow start yesterday, had taken to riding as easily as an eaglet takes to soaring in the sky. He’d never shown an inch of fear today, and even when his horse, Gilder, had been spooked by a pheasant rising out of the dry grass, Chris had maintained control, calming the flighty bay with steady hands and a soothing voice that cracked occasionally and caused a red flush to steal up his neck.
They spread a blanket on the ground and pulled out a lunch of cold chicken, potato salad, sourdough biscuits and honey, grapes and applesauce cake from a knapsack packed especially by Kiki, the cook for the McKees. When Skye had learned of Dani’s plans, she’d enlisted Kiki’s help. The old cook, complaining all the while according to Skye, had been secretly flattered and outdone herself. Plaid napkins and silverware had been included, as had a bottle of chilled wine, which had been stowed in an insulated saddle pack and retained its cool temperature.
“Gourmet fare,” Brandon remarked as Dani opened plastic containers of goodies and handed him a corkscrew. “How’d you manage this?”
She laughed and squinted against the sun, watching as Chris tethered the horses beneath a couple of scrawny pine trees. “I’d like to lie and tell you that this was all my doing, that I had hidden talents, but the truth of the matter is that I’m pretty much a lousy cook, and my sister, hearing my plans, was horrified enough to enlist the help of a professional.”
Brandon watched as she set out the paper plates on the blanket. “So you’re a fake. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Not quite. I’m just admitting that I’m lacking a little when it comes to being domestic.”
“Hard to believe,” he said, working the cork out of the bottle.
“Ask my ex,” she quipped, then quickly regretted bringing Jeff into the conversation. Jeff was a part of her life she never wanted to discuss, especially not with Brandon. Clamping her mouth shut, she handed him two plastic glasses.
“I wouldn’t ask him anything,” Brandon said as he poured. “The man’s got to be a fool.”
“Why’s that?” Dani couldn’t resist asking.
“He let you go, didn’t he?”
So did you, Brand. So did you. The air was suddenly still. Dani’s throat tightened, seemed clogged with unshed tears. One of the horses neighed softly. “Yes, well,” she said, barely able to speak, “it was a mutual decision.” She busied herself with napkins and silverware, but Brand’s hand captured her wrist.
“I would never make that mistake.”
“You already did,” she countered.
“We were kids and we weren’t married.”
She cleared her throat and looked away, afraid her eyes would give her feelings away. “Why are you telling me this? Why now?”
The tips of his fingers rubbed the inside of her wrist and he muttered, “I’ll be damned if I know.” It wasn’t a lie. Why did he feel suddenly compelled to offer her something, anything, to chase away the sadness in her eyes? Why did he think he had to keep telling her that he’d cared, when it was obvious from the way he’d run out on her years before that he hadn’t loved her enough. He couldn’t atone for his past sins, so why was he bound and determined to play the knight-in-shining-armor routine? Sure, she attracted him. Hell, if he could, he’d make love to her until they were both sweating and gasping for air, but that was a purely physical dream—the heat of his body wanting to meld with hers. But on an emotional level, he knew he was being ridiculous, even fatalistic.
The moment was awkward and he dropped her hand just as Chris ran up and flung himself down on the blanket. “What’s for lunch?”
“What isn’t?” Brand asked, looking at the spread.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Chris demanded, and Dani, as if anxious for a distraction, began helping him fill a plate.
Brand leaned back and sipped his wine, wondering why he felt more content than he had in years. The restless edge that had been with him during his adolescence and early years of manhood seemed to have suddenly vanished and he enjoyed watching the shadows from the few trees play upon the ground. He’d been running so long, he’d barely had time to catch his breath, but here, up in the mountains and away from the roar of the city, his voracious ambition—his overwhelming need to prove himself—had all but disappeared. He watched as Dani and Chris piled plates, handing him one and laughing together until Chris spied the wine bottle.
“You don’t need that,” Chris said, jabbing at the half-empty bottle with his uneaten chicken leg. Deep furrows etched his forehead.
Dani looked from one brother to the other and took hold of the situation. “You’re absolutely right, Chris. We don’t.” Dani sipped from her glass anyway. “But it’s a nice touch. Kiki outdid herself.”
Chris scowled and chewed on his chicken leg.
“This is a picnic, not a fancy banquet.” Tossing out the rest of his chardonnay, Brand realized that to Chris, alcohol, especially wine, was the enemy.
Dani’s mouth dropped open, but as if she understood, she didn’t say a word and corked the bottle. They ate the rest of the meal slowly, listening as Chris did impressions of his friends and teachers from his past year in school, feeling the sun warm on their crowns, leaving the cares of the rest of the world behind.
A hawk circled above them and far away a jet dared slice across the blue sky. Dani’s laughter filled the air and Chris, too, seemed to relax.
Brandon picked a long blade of grass and chewed on the end as he watched the sunlight gild Dani’s hair. Her gaze touched his, and in a heart-stopping instant, he knew that he’d never ceased loving her. That silly boyhood passion that he’d buried for so long was still in his heart.
He smiled and let out his breath. For the first time in his life, Brandon Scarlotti felt as if he belonged.