11
Clarisse settled down into life with the Griers. She found a nice house that she liked inside the city limits, near a grocery store, the post office and the Methodist Church. There was a grammar school a few blocks away. The house was Victorian, with a long porch, high gables with gingerbread scrolling and even a turret room. She bought it at once and called in carpenters and decorators, some from San Antonio, to make it livable. One of the perks of being rich, she thought to herself, was that she could buy most anything she liked without having to check the balance in her bank accounts. Her parents came from great wealth, and all their valuables, including stocks, went to Clarisse, as the only surviving member of her family.
“I’ll miss you,” Tippy said when the house was ready to be occupied, and Clarisse had hired a sweet young Hispanic woman, Mariel, to take care of it and help with Joshua.
“I’ll miss all of you, too,” Clarisse said softly. “But I’m right nearby,” she added with a grin. “You can come and visit whenever you like.”
“I’ll do that,” Tippy agreed. Her eyes were on the baby in Clarisse’s arms. “He’s such a sweet boy.”
“Yes, he is,” Clarisse agreed. “Your Tris is a little doll. And I think Rory’s the greatest,” she added. She laughed. “He tried to teach me how to play those video games he has. I died so much he said they should dedicate a street to me in-game.”
Tippy laughed. “He’s crazy about those online games, and he’s drawn Cash into them, too.” She shook her head. “I can’t manage the controls.”
“Neither can I!”
“Talking about me, huh?” Cash said as he came into the room.
“And why would we be discussing you?” Tippy teased, resting her body against his to look up at him with soft, loving green eyes. “I mean, just because you’re devastating is no reason to talk about you.”
“I’m sweet, too,” he mused, bending to kiss her softly. “You say it all the time.”
“It’s absolutely true,” Tippy sighed.
Cash grinned and kissed her once more before he let her go. His eyes went worriedly to Clarisse. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“Eb Scott phoned me last night,” she told him. “He says he’s got two of his top new trainees on my case. They’ll follow me night and day and keep me safe.” She bit her lower lip. “Sapara has killed two men who were instrumental in helping General Machado set up the new government. The Granges had to hire extra security. He sent a man after them, as well. But he didn’t try to do it with a jar of deadly mosquitoes,” Clarisse added angrily, remembering what had been done to Ruy, and what was meant for her.
“No, he used a knife,” Cash replied, revealing that he’d been discussing things with Eb, too. His black eyes met hers. “You’ll have more people watching than just Eb’s men,” he added. “Nobody is going to hurt you or the child in my town. I promise you that.”
She smiled warmly. “Thanks, Cash. Thanks to both of you for giving us a place to stay until we could find one of our own.”
“Oh, we had ulterior motives,” Cash murmured. He held out his arms. “May I?”
She placed Joshua in them and watched the expression on his face, and on Tippy’s, as she moved closer to touch the baby’s little hand.
Clarisse, watching, felt the hunger in them for another child. Maybe that would happen. She hoped so.
“I’m driving you to your new house,” Tippy said after a minute, smiling up at Cash.
“I would offer, but I’ve got a meeting in... Damn, I’m already late. Have to go.” He kissed Tippy softly, handed Joshua back to Clarisse and went in to kiss the rest of the family.
“We always do that when he leaves,” Tippy explained as she drove Clarisse in the Jaguar to her new home. “We kiss each other and say we love them. You never know,” she added quietly. “Cash can’t live without a little danger. I worry, but I don’t obsess.”
“I worried myself sick when Rourke left on that mission,” she replied. “I know that he does dangerous work. I had hoped, so much...” She drew in a breath and changed the subject. “I think I’ll like Jacobsville,” she said warmly. “It’s very special.”
“We think so, too,” Tippy agreed. “You’ll need a car.”
“That’s my next priority. Where did you get the Jag, and does the dealer have a good inventory?”
Tippy laughed. “Yes. They’re in San Antonio. I’ll give you the website address and you can see for yourself! When you want to go looking for it, I’ll drive you.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, I have ulterior motives,” Tippy mused. “I get to hold Joshua while you deal with the salesman,” she added, tongue in cheek, and both women laughed.
* * *
Mariel was in her late twenties, quiet and respectful. Clarisse had found her through a nice-looking cowboy, Jack Lopez, who worked for Luke Craig. She’d met him in Barbara’s Café and they lunched together from time to time when she took Joshua into town. The cowboy said she was a cousin and she had excellent references.
She was a treasure. Mariel fell in love with the baby on sight. She took him, cooing, and invited the older adults to follow her. She’d prepared two rooms on the ground floor, because Clarisse’s incision was still painful and it was hard for her to climb stairs. Next to Clarisse’s room was an adjoining one with sliding wooden doors. There was a nursery behind them, beautifully decorated and painted in eggshell blue, with a complementing blue carpet. The baby furniture was white. There were mobiles over the crib.
“This is wonderful,” Tippy exclaimed.
“Yes, it is. I found them on the internet,” Clarisse chuckled, pulling out her iPod. “And next on the list is a car!”
She pulled up the website, checked out the inventory and called the number listed to speak to a salesman. He had several new Jaguars in inventory and invited her up to see them. She promised to come the next morning after glancing at Tippy to make sure she was free to drive with her.
Mariel took the baby into the nursery to change a dirty diaper. “I will take wonderful care of him,” she promised Clarisse. “You need not fear for him.”
“I know that. Thanks.”
“Now,” Clarisse said when she and Tippy were alone, “I have to do what I promised Eb.” She called him and told him her itinerary. “And thanks, Eb. I don’t mind paying the salaries of the men you’ve hired...” She paused and laughed. “Okay, but you have to promise that you’ll let me reciprocate. Deal. Thanks.”
“Eb’s in a class of his own, isn’t he?” Tippy asked gently.
“A truly good man.” Clarisse led the way into the remodeled kitchen. It was a gourmet cook’s delight, containing every single appliance that would be needed for a grand meal.
“You love to cook, don’t you?” Tippy asked.
“Oh, yes.” Clarisse didn’t add that she’d learned because it was something Rourke was quite good at. He’d actually been a chef in a restaurant in Johannesburg for a time during his younger days. During their blissful few weeks in Manaus, they’d shared cooking chores.
Mariel was back with the baby just as Clarisse served coffee. Tippy took Joshua and cuddled him when he began to fuss.
“He’s hungry,” Clarisse laughed. She called to Mariel in Spanish and asked her to bring a diaper as she took the baby and unfastened her blouse and her nursing bra. She shivered and laughed again as the baby started to nurse.
“I nursed Tris,” Tippy said, sighing. “There are so many benefits. But it must hurt you.”
“The incision pulls. And a weird thing—it feels like labor pains when he starts suckling,” she added.
“I know what you mean! I had the same experience.” Her eyes were dreamy. “I would love another baby.”
“I’ll cross all my fingers and toes for you,” she promised, and grinned.
Tippy just laughed.
* * *
Clarisse was offered an XK, one of the top-of-the-line sports cars that Jaguar produced, but she shook her head. A sedan was far more sensible. But she did opt for a supercharged V8, in white with beige upholstery.
“Cash had a red XK when we started dating, in New York,” Tippy recalled when they were finally back home and she was getting ready to go home. “He loved it, but he traded for a sedan when we knew Tris was on the way. The convertibles do have a bench seat in back, but it was barely big enough for Rory to stretch out in when Cash drove us around.”
“Two-seaters are for young people with no children, or older people whose children are grown,” Clarisse said with a grin.
“I know. But it was a honey of a car,” Tippy said with a wistful sigh.
“So is my new sedan. We can go shopping up to San Antonio when you have another free day.”
“Translated, when I have another free day that Rory also has a teacher workday, like today,” came the amused reply. “He’s just the greatest babysitter.”
“He’s really sweet,” Clarisse added.
“I’ve always thought so.” She glanced at Mariel, who came smiling to take the baby from Clarisse, who was looking worn. “You need to have an early night,” she added, concerned. “You’ve had a rough few weeks.”
“I know. I’m low on the malarial pills, too. I’ll run by the pharmacy first thing tomorrow and pick up the refill. I called it in yesterday, but I was just too tired to go there today.”
“I could go for you,” Tippy offered.
“I’ll go. Would you like to have lunch at Barbara’s tomorrow? If you would, I’ll pick you and Tris up after I stop at the pharmacy.”
“Cash is off tomorrow, so I’ll be on my own. You can pick me up before you go to the pharmacy and I’ll hold Joshua while you pay for the pills.”
“Ooooh, do I sense an underlying motive here?” Clarisse asked with almost the first flash of her sense of humor since her ordeal had begun.
“You certainly do!”
“In that case, I’ll see you about fifteen until eleven in the morning.”
“Okay!”
* * *
“But I could keep him for you,” Mariel fussed when Clarisse, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved beige sweater and loafers started for the front door, with Joshua in a blue footed fleece suit wrapped in a blanket in his car seat.
Clarisse just smiled. “I’ll get used to leaving him, but right now, it’s too soon after Manaus,” she explained. “I’m...what’s the word? I’m twitchy.”
“Ah,” the other woman said, and smiled sadly. “You have had a very hard time. But it will be better. It takes time.”
“Yes. Thanks for offering, though.”
“That is what you pay for me for, yes?” she replied and laughed as she went in to start work on cleaning the bedrooms.
* * *
Tippy went to look for a new lipstick, carrying Joshua, while Clarisse stood in line at the pharmacy counter. Tippy had just come back when Clarisse turned her head, and her heart stopped cold in her chest. She couldn’t even manage words.
“Son of a...!” Rourke burst out. He moved closer, wearing jeans and a knit shirt and a shepherd’s coat. His one pale brown eye flashed murder as he saw Clarisse. “And just what the bloody hell are you doing here, then?” he demanded hotly. “Found out I was working here and came over to see the sights, did you?” he accused. His eye looked up and down her with pure hatred. “Sorry, but I don’t see myself taking a number to take my place in your bed!”
Aware of murmurs around her, because the pharmacy was crowded, Clarisse handed her credit card to Bonnie, who was glaring at the blond man. Bonnie rang up the purchase, handed back her credit card, waited while she signed the slip and handed her the prescription medication for the malaria.
“Here’s your son, Clarisse,” Tippy said, coming forward with a taut face to hand the baby to her friend.
“Your son?” Rourke felt his whole body explode. He’d never known such grief in his life, and he didn’t know why. He looked at the child in her arms with blazing rage. “You had a child? Got careless, I see. Do you even know who the father is, Tat?” he added with pure venom.
Tippy moved forward. “If you say one more word to her,” she said in a voice thick with anger, “I will have my husband arrest you and prosecute you for harassment, and I’ll testify in court if I have to! I don’t imagine it would be difficult to find a few other willing witnesses, either!”
“Damned straight,” Jack Lopez, one of Luke Craig’s new cowboys, agreed. He was tall and good-looking, with black hair and a faint Hispanic look. He’d had lunch with Clarisse at Barbara’s and he’d helped her find Mariel to keep the baby. He smiled at Clarisse. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Clarisse.” He gave Rourke an odd look, but Rourke paid him no attention at all. He was glaring at Clarisse for all he was worth.
“Let’s go, Clarisse,” Tippy said, shooting a venomous look at Rourke, who met it with studied amusement.
She herded a shell-shocked Clarisse out of the pharmacy and back into the new Jaguar. “You get in,” she said. “I’m driving. I’ll put Joshua in the backseat.”
Rourke had picked up the prescription Jake Blair had asked him to get, amid icy-cold looks, and walked out just in time to see Tippy put the baby in its carrier into the backseat. She climbed into the driver’s seat beside Clarisse, slammed the door. Seconds later, they drove away. Neither woman had looked at him again.
He stared after Tat with his heartbeat almost smothering him. He felt betrayed. It was the most incredible feeling, because he knew he hated her. He’d hated her for years. He couldn’t remember why. But there was something, an anguish, a sensation of utter loss, that overlaid the resentment. It hurt him to look at the child. Why?
He put a hand to his head. There was a memory there, somewhere, but he couldn’t reach it. He didn’t understand why he’d gone after her so savagely. But it irritated him that she’d followed him to America. Well, she did live in America, most of the time. Or he thought she did. He remembered her in a political background, at cocktail parties. Washington, DC, perhaps? But she’d never been to Texas. Had she? And why did she turn up here just as he was back in the country on a new assignment, one that would keep him here for several weeks.
He went back to Jake Blair’s house and put the prescription in its bag on the dining room table. He was so quiet and subdued that Jake scowled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tat’s here.”
Jake winced. “I’m sorry. I should have told you that she was living here...”
“Living here?! What in hell for?” Rourke burst out.
Jake let out a long sigh. “It’s complicated. I can’t tell you much. She was living with the Griers until she bought a house of her own and had it furnished.”
“That was Tippy Grier in the pharmacy, then,” he said after a minute. “I thought she looked familiar.”
“In the pharmacy?” Jake was feeling uneasy.
“Tat had a baby with her. Her son, Tippy called him.” His face was harder than stone. “She had a kid with some poor sucker. I asked if she knew who the father was... Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Sit down, Rourke,” his friend said gently.
Rourke scowled, but he did as he was asked.
Jake went into the kitchen and came back with cups of black coffee. He gave Rourke one, took the other and sat down at the table with him.
“I don’t know if K.C. told you anything about what’s happened to her recently.”
“I wouldn’t have her name mentioned around me,” Rourke said bitterly. “She came to the damned compound, right into my own bedroom when I got home after I was wounded. She was wearing my mother’s engagement ring! She had to have stolen the damned thing. I jerked it off and kicked her out. I didn’t even speak to K.C. for months afterward. He actually had her flown there...!”
Jake closed his eyes. It was even worse than he thought.
“Okay, what’s that look about?”
Jake sipped coffee. “She was married, Rourke,” he said quietly. “To a friend of hers in Manaus, a doctor named Ruy Carvajal.”
“Married...” He felt his breath catch deep in his throat. He lifted the cup to his mouth. The coffee was hot and it burned his lips, but it helped disguise the anguish he felt. “She married Carvajal? My God, he was twenty years older than her, at the least!”
“They had a child,” he said, and he didn’t look at Rourke as he said it.
“The one she was carrying. A boy. A son.” His face tautened. “I see.” He drew in a long breath. “So, is he living here with her?”
Jake shook his head. “He died. Of cerebral malaria. A few weeks ago. In Manaus.”
Manaus. There was something about Manaus. Why did the place seem so familiar to him? He’d only been there a handful of times, mostly because of Tat. When her mother died. When her father and sister were killed on the river...where the hell did that memory come from? He held his head. It throbbed.
“You okay?” Jake asked, worried.
Rourke lifted his eyes to the other man’s. “Ya,” he said after a minute. “So she came over here. Why?”
“She has nobody left in the world,” Jake said. “She had the same strain of malaria that her husband did. Peg and Winslow Grange contacted a tropical disease specialist in Great Britain and had him flown to Manaus to treat her. It was touch and go. They did a C-section because they thought she couldn’t live...”
“Dear God!” Rourke got to his feet and turned away, his heart shaking him. The reaction he felt to the news devastated him. Why? He hated Tat. He didn’t care if she died...if she died...she could have died. He didn’t know about the marriage, about the baby, about the fever...
“She lived, against the odds,” Jake continued solemnly. “But she was afraid for the baby. She wanted to be somewhere that he could be cared for, if...something happened to her.”
He turned back. “She’s all right now?” he asked worriedly. “The fever won’t recur?”
Jake sipped coffee. “You’ve had malaria. You know what it’s like.”
“I had several kinds, none of which recurred.”
“This one does,” Jake replied. “We saw it when we were in Asia, and Africa, and even far back in the Amazon, if you recall. It was almost endemic in certain areas. Plasmodium falciparum.”
“From the anopheles mosquito,” Rourke replied heavily. He’d seen cases of it. Cerebral malaria was invariably fatal. He bit his lower lip. “How in hell did they get infected from that one?” he burst out. “You live in a country where it occurs, you take precautions!”
“He did,” Jake replied. “He had the grounds sprayed constantly.”
“Well, not good enough, obviously,” he shot back, “and why the hell didn’t he recognize the symptoms? He was a doctor, for God’s sake!”
“There had been an outbreak of virus in the community. He was working eighteen-hour days, and he was exhausted. He thought he’d caught the virus. It had much the same symptoms. He waited until it was too late to do anything. Clarisse nursed him. She caught the fever. She was burning up with it when he died.”
Rourke looked away. Clarisse, all alone, with nobody who cared for her when the baby came, when her husband died.
“She didn’t want to move here,” Jake added. “They—” he almost said K.C. and had to catch himself “—had to browbeat her into it.”
“Why?”
“She thought you might come over again,” Jake said shortly. “Everyone said you’d mentioned that you were getting married and you’d be taking cases in Europe from now on.”
“She didn’t want to risk running into me,” Rourke said aloud. It hurt to put it into words. His hands, in the pockets of his khaki slacks, balled into fists.
“Would you look forward to seeing someone who did nothing but belittle you, torment you?” Jake asked softly.
“No. Of course not.” He stared at his feet. “She nursed him.”
“Yes. She had the infection, too, but sometimes it takes a week or two to present symptoms—you know that. By the time it did, she was in labor. Her fever was over a hundred and five and climbing. The doctors did what they thought they had to. She fought so hard to live,” he added, having had the story from K.C. “She was worried about the baby.”
The baby. Carvajal’s baby. He felt bile in the back of his throat. He hated the idea of Clarisse with another man. Although why he should, when he hated her...
He drew in a long breath. “I said some harsh things to her,” he said after a minute. “It was the shock, of seeing her unexpectedly. I’ve avoided her for months. Ever since...” He hesitated. He scowled. “I don’t understand how she got my mother’s ring, you know? It was in the safe, and I had the only combination. I never left it lying around. Never!” He turned, his face flushed with feeling. “The only time she was even in the compound was when she came to see about me, when I was wounded, and the only room she was in was my bedroom. There was no way...!”
“You’ve spent years hating her,” Jake replied. “Some habits are hard to break.”
Rourke stared at the wall. “I don’t know why I hate her so much,” he confessed. “She was always tagging after me in Africa, when she was little.” A faint, tender smile bloomed on his hard mouth. “She wasn’t afraid of anything. I was part of a merc group when I was ten. I wanted to go back, the year after K.C. became my guardian, but I hesitated because I knew Tat would follow me. Even then, she was my shadow.” His head hurt suddenly, violently. He put a hand to it. “Why can’t I remember?”
“Stop forcing it.” Jake got up and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re remembering a few things, aren’t you? Things that had gotten lost over the past few months.”
“I remembered that K.C. was my father,” he returned. “He was packing his guns when I got home. Mary Luke died.” He winced. “He loved her desperately. He’d have married her, but she became a nun. He was going to go with his men on a mission. I remembered then, remembered who he was, what he was to me. I got in front of him and dared him to try and commit suicide.” He chuckled. “That took guts, let me tell you. He knocked me over a sofa...” He stopped, frowning. “He hit me. I’d said something to him, something about Tat.” He ground his teeth together. “I can’t...remember what.”
“The neurologist said that you might regain some of those memories,” Jake told him. “But it’s going to be slow. Just relax. Take it one day at a time, the way you’ve been taking it. Don’t try to force it.”
“I asked him about letting people tell me what happened.” He laughed shortly. “He said it wouldn’t matter—it wouldn’t make sense to me. It would be like listening to a story.” He shook his head. “It’s driving me mad.”
“You’ll get through it.”
“I guess.” He drew in a breath. “I’ll apologize to Tat, when I see her,” he said slowly. “That was a hell of a way to treat someone who’s been through what she’s been through. That cold-blooded so-and-so tortured her in Barrera for information on the offensive, but I put a knife in him...” He gasped, staring at Jake.
“Yes,” Jake said, nodding.
“Why didn’t K.C. tell me she’d married?” he wondered aloud.
“You wouldn’t let anyone talk to you about her,” Jake replied.
Rourke sighed. “I guess not.” He shook his head. “So much pain. I wouldn’t have hurt her like that deliberately. Or would I? I’ve spent years making her pay...making her pay...for what?” he added, almost to himself. “Damn it!”
“One day at a time,” Jake interrupted. “I think it may come back.”
“Do you?” Rourke sat back down. “Well, I can hope, I guess.”
Jake didn’t reply. He knew something that he didn’t dare impart to Rourke, not yet. Sapara had sent a cleaner after Clarisse, and nobody knew what the man looked like. Nobody except Rourke. He’d seen Sapara’s chief assassin long before the assault on Barrera. He knew what the man looked like. And he might be the only chance Clarisse had, if his memory returned in time.
But that was unlikely. In any case, Cash and Eb Scott had things in hand. Anybody who made a step toward Clarisse would find himself on the business end of whatever weapon several covert operatives could produce. She was safe enough. For now.
* * *
Clarisse had taken Joshua to the city park. It was mid-March, a beautiful day in the beginning of spring, and there was a performance by the local high school band for the community. It was one of many cultural events sponsored by local merchants in cooperation with the Jacobs County Chamber of Commerce.
She had a thick quilt lying on the dry grass, with Joshua lying on it in his little blue fleece footie suit. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, without even a trace of makeup. She loved being Joshua’s mother. She didn’t want to pick up men, so she did nothing to make herself more attractive.
She couldn’t know that, to the man watching her covertly, she was beautiful without artifice. Rourke stared at her from a few yards away, taking in the tenderness with which she handled the little boy, the freshness of her complexion, the quiet grace of her movements.
He’d started over badly with her, and he felt guilty. She’d been through hell. He was sorry for the things he’d said to her in the pharmacy. She’d probably snub him, but he didn’t care. He wanted to apologize.
She felt him. It was uncanny, how she always knew when he was close by. Even in the pharmacy, she’d felt a tingling just before he confronted her. She looked up with faint fear in her eyes. She started to reach for Joshua, to run away.
“Don’t go,” Rourke said gently. He went down on one knee, his eyes on the little boy. Odd coloring, he thought, for the child of a man who was visibly Hispanic. He recalled Carvajal, who had black hair and eyes and a dark olive complexion. But the child resembled Clarisse, and he did have her coloring.
“What do you want?” Clarisse asked tautly.
He shrugged. “To apologize. I didn’t know about your husband.”
She didn’t look directly at him. It hurt too much. She didn’t speak, either.
“He’s a good child, isn’t he?” he asked after a minute. The sight of the child was painful. He didn’t understand why.
“Yes,” she said.
“Jake said you were staying with the Griers.”
She nodded. “They were a lot of help. The stitches still pull...” She broke off.
“Jake told me about that, too,” he said. He studied her. She looked older, worn, thinner. “You’ve had a hell of a time, haven’t you, Tat? I’m sorry I made things worse.”
She didn’t answer him. She was hoping he’d just leave. He was upsetting her.
He felt that discomfort. He didn’t blame her. He got to his feet. “I won’t be around long,” he said after a minute. “This will probably be my last assignment in the States for a while.”
She nodded. She didn’t look up.
He clenched his jaw. There was something between them. Something that his remembered hatred of her didn’t explain. “Why is it like this?” he asked suddenly.
“Excuse me?” she faltered.
“Why am I...this way with you?” he added. “You tagged after me like my own shadow when you were a kid. You went everywhere with me...!”
“That was years ago, Rourke,” she said, unconsciously using the name everyone else did, not calling him by the name that was familiar, that made her feel unique in his life.
He registered it, but not consciously. “We were together in Barrera,” he began.
“Yes, at the awards ceremony.”
He felt as if someone had hit him in the gut. “What awards ceremony?”
“You said...”
“At the camp,” he emphasized. “After that cold-blooded minion of Sapara’s tortured you,” he added.
“Oh. Yes.” She could have bitten her tongue through for that stupid slip.
“He paid for what he did to you,” he said coldly.
She nodded.
His mind was working. He was getting flashes of color. The camp. The assault on Sapara’s position. The little dictator who’d killed so many innocent people, flustered, cowardly without his minions, trying to escape Machado, trying to explain his treachery.
What had he overheard K.C. say about Sapara, just recently? Something about a helicopter. He couldn’t remember. Funny memory, that.
“You shouldn’t be trying to lift the baby by yourself,” he said suddenly, frowning. “He isn’t six weeks yet, is he?”
“Almost.”
He hesitated. His face softened. “You had a baby in your arms in the refugee camp in Ngawa,” he said abruptly. “You looked beautiful to me, even with your clothes stained and your hair unwashed. I thought I’d bury you that time, Tat. You’d been captured and threatened with execution. My God, you’ve got more lives than a cat!”
The comment shocked her into looking up. What was that expression on her lovely, sweet face? Hope?
“I’d forgotten, hadn’t I?” he asked. “I got you out, just before the offensive.” He scowled. “I’m always getting you out of trouble, always there when you’re traumatized. I always have been. So why is it like that, if I hate you so much?”
For a few seconds, hope had washed over her like liquid joy. And now it was gone. Gone again.
She managed a faint smile. “I’ve never known,” she replied.
Her eyes were soft, china blue and beautiful, warm with feeling. “So beautiful,” he said without thinking. His jaw tautened. His one pale brown eye flashed.
“Truce over,” she said at once, getting up with obvious effort. “And I have to go. Mariel will have lunch.”
“Oh, now, Mrs. Carvajal, don’t you dare try to lift that baby!”
A tall, handsome man came closer, grinning. “I’ll be happy to carry him for you. I’m going that way, anyhow. Mr. Craig sent me into town to the hardware store to get some more butane for branding.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Lopez.” She glanced at Rourke, whose expression was unreadable. “Stanton Rourke, this is Jack Lopez.” She introduced him. “He’s been helping me with groceries just lately. I have a hard time lifting things. We met at Barbara’s Café and he volunteered.” She smiled up at the man, relieved that she didn’t have to bear the explosion that she’d expected from Rourke when his eye had flashed at her.
“No problem to help a new mother,” the cowboy said, with a faint accent. He tipped his hat at Rourke. He stared at him intently for a minute, but Rourke’s expression didn’t change. “Nice to meet you.” He bent over and picked up the little boy, holding him gingerly in one arm while Tat struggled to pick up and fold the blanket.
“Here, I’ll do that,” Jack said quickly. He picked up the bag with diapers and wipes, and the blanket while holding Joshua easily in one arm. “Ready?” he asked.
Clarisse nodded.
“See you,” Rourke said, and it was almost a threat as he glared at the other man.
She managed a faint smile. But she didn’t answer him as they walked away.