Читать книгу Texas Heat - Barbara McCauley - Страница 6

The town house was expensive. White wrought iron, beveled windows, shiny brass mailboxes. The taxi slowed, then pulled to a stop in front of a small brick security building nearly engulfed by a creeping vine with pink flowers. The guard behind the polished glass window glanced over his newspaper at the taxi and frowned slightly.

The driver turned to his passenger. “You want me to wait?”

That was a good question, Jake thought. He might be here thirty minutes or thirty seconds. Hell, the woman might not even open the door, in spite of the fact she knew he was coming. It had taken five months after J.T.’s death to track her down, and according to the private investigator, she’d been less than welcoming. Getting her to agree to this meeting had been about as easy as branding a loose steer.

“So how ‘bout it?” The cabbie grew impatient. “You want me to wait or not?”

Jake grabbed the small duffel bag on the floor beside him and shook his head. “I’ll call.”

The guard watched carefully now as Jake paid the fare. It wasn’t as if Jake didn’t understand the man’s concern. This section of Atlanta, Georgia, was much more accustomed to CEOs in tailored suits than a six-foot-four cowboy in a black Stetson and blue jeans.

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Jake approached the wary guard. “Afternoon.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I’m looking for number 312, Miss Roberts’s place.”

The man lifted his bushy gray eyebrows and set his paper aside. “And you are?” he asked, pulling out a clipboard.

“Jake Stone.”

The guard scanned his daily list of permitted admittances. “Yes, Mr. Stone. Miss Roberts is expecting you. Second sidewalk, turn left. She’s the third place in.”

He pushed a buzzer and a huge gate opened. Jake stepped inside, then turned to look back when the gate clanked shut behind him. Damn. He felt as if he’d just stepped into prison. What the hell kind of place was this that needed high gates and security guards? No place he’d want his kids to grow up. But then, he thought with a frown, since he had no kids and remarriage was definitely not in his plans, where his children were or weren’t raised was hardly something to consider.

Shaking his head, Jake followed the guard’s directions. Magnolia trees shaded the walkway and bright pink flowers filled the beds. Everywhere he looked was green. A lush deep green that one rarely saw in west Texas. Jake had forgotten there were so many shades of green.

Carolyn, his ex-wife, would have loved this place. The thought made Jake instantly hate it. He wanted out of here, and the sooner, the better.

But he was here for Jessie, Jake reminded himself. He knew that his sister would skin him alive if he didn’t come back with some kind of good news. Even Jared had seemed anxious, Jake recalled, remembering the smile in his younger brother’s eyes when they’d said goodbye at the airport. It had been a long time since Jared had smiled or seemed enthusiastic about anything, and there was nothing Jake wouldn’t do to keep that smile there.

Number 312. Jake stood in front of the door and stared at the shiny brass numbers. A knot began to form in his gut, and though he never would have admitted it, not even to Jessie, a sudden rush of excitement swept through him. Emma Roberts Stone. J.T.’s child.

His sister.

* * *

“Is he really my brother?” Emma asked for at least the third time in the past half hour. “Is he really?”

Savannah pulled a brush through the child’s shining black hair and felt the same twitch in her stomach she’d felt every time her niece asked that question. “We don’t know that for sure, Pecan. That’s why he’s coming over, so we can talk about it.”

“It’s almost time,” Emma said excitedly, twisting her head to glance at the clock. The neat ponytail Savannah had just pulled together disintegrated.

Frowning, Savannah straightened Emma’s head and tried again. “Sweetheart, if you don’t stop fidgeting, we’ll never get your hair done.”

The truth, Savannah realized, was that it was her own shaky hands causing the ponytail’s demise. He’d be here any minute. Any second.

And she was about to tell the biggest lie of her life.

Forget the ponytail. It didn’t matter. But what happened in the next few minutes did matter. More than life itself. Savannah set the brush on the armchair and turned her niece around to face her. Kneeling in front of the child so their eyes met, Savannah touched Emma gently on her cheek.

“Emma, you know I love you more than anything in this world, right?”

Emma nodded, her blue eyes narrowed at the serious tone in her aunt’s voice.

“And you know that before your mommy went away she asked me to watch over you and take care of you, too?”

She nodded again.

“That’s why you need to do as I asked. You’ve got to stay in your room and let me talk to this man first. I need to make sure that he is your brother.”

Emma drew her brows together. “How will you know?”

Savannah brushed the bangs from the child’s face. “You let me worry about that, Pecan.”

“Is he going to want me to go live with him?” Emma asked quietly.

The fear in Emma’s voice had Savannah pulling her niece into her arms. “Do you think I’d ever let anyone take you away from me?”

The child shook her head.

“Of course I wouldn’t. You and I are a team. And I intend to keep it that way.” Savannah tightened her hug. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Okay.” Emma hugged her back.

Smiling reassurance she didn’t feel, Savannah set her niece away from her and looked into her face. “And stay in the bedroom until I tell you to come out.”

“Okay.”

The doorbell chimed and they both jumped.

Savannah’s stomach tightened. She looked anxiously at the door, then back to Emma. “Go on now, sweetie. I’ll let you know when it’s all right to come out.”

Once her niece had left, Savannah took a deep breath and glanced at the window beside the front door. She saw the outline of a tall man through the partially closed blinds. Maybe he’d go away if she didn’t answer. Just give up and go back to Texas. But she knew better. A man didn’t spend months tracking someone down and fly all this way just to turn around and leave. He wasn’t going to give up and he wasn’t going to leave. She had to go through with this. Be done with it now.

He knocked this time. Loudly.

Heart pounding, she moved to the door and opened it.

His black hat was the first thing she noticed about the man, and it struck her how appropriate that seemed. And tall. Good God, he towered over her own five-foot-seven frame, and his denim-clad chest and shoulders filled the doorway.

“Miss...Roberts?”

He did not smile as he stared down at her with intense blue eyes. If anything, he was frowning. She watched as he removed his Stetson, revealing hair dark enough to be considered black and a small jagged scar by his right temple.

No doubt this man would try to use his size and menacing looks to intimidate her, Savannah thought with annoyance. He was probably used to women—and men—taking a step back. Resisting the temptation to do just that, she lifted her eyes and met his gaze squarely.

“Mr. Stone.” She offered her hand to him and he took it, closing his long fingers over hers. A working man’s hand. Large and callused. She felt strength emanate from him. And determination. Two qualities that could make this meeting difficult.

She pulled her hand from his. “Come in, please.”

He dropped his bag on the front porch and stepped inside. His boots sounded heavy on the marble entry. Drawing in a slow, deep breath to steady herself, Savannah closed the door, then gestured to the living room sofa. “Why don’t we talk in here?” she said, moving past him.

Confused, Jake stared after the woman. He thought for a moment he had the wrong place, or maybe she was the one who was confused. But she’d looked right at him with eyes as green as a spring meadow and said his name. She couldn’t be Angela Roberts, he thought, narrowing his eyes.

Could she?

He watched as she walked away. From her tan high heels to the tips of her honey blond hair, she spelled money. And sex appeal. Definitely sex appeal. Her soft Southern accent flowed over him like warm silk and the faint scent of peaches drifted from her creamy white skin. Her legs were long and slender beneath her knee-length beige skirt, her breasts full and round under a long-sleeved white silk blouse.

Jake could understand how J.T. might have been tempted to take this woman to his bed. Lord knew, he certainly was.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and realized he hadn’t moved. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

Something was wrong, he thought, and followed her into the other room. Very wrong.

She sat on a rose-colored high-back chair and he heard the soft whisper of her stockings as she crossed her legs. He sat on the sofa across from her and sank into the cushions. Too soft, he thought almost irritably. And white. He almost laughed at the thought of this sofa in his living room. He’d take his firm leather couch over this silly piece of fluff any day.

Glancing around the room, Jake took in the feminine contents: lace curtains, crystal vase on the glass coffee table filled with fragrant pink flowers. Pastel watercolors of garden cottages. A floor-to-ceiling oak bookcase with hard-bound novels and floral-framed photographs. Based on the town-house exterior, everything on the inside was exactly as Jake would have imagined. He looked at the woman sitting across from him. Well, almost everything.

Savannah didn’t like the way Jake Stone was staring at her. Scowling was a more appropriate word. She’d heard that cowboys were the silent type, but this was ridiculous. Other than her name, he hadn’t said one word to her. And though she’d already acknowledged that the man had a rugged appeal, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps he’d been kicked by one too many horses.

“Mr. Stone,” she said curtly, “could we please dispense with the amenities and get right to the point of your visit? I have an appointment in a little while and I’m afraid I haven’t much time.”

Jake’s frown deepened. He’d nearly drained what was left of his savings to buy a plane ticket, left two hundred head of cattle and spent an entire day traveling just to get here, and she hadn’t much time? He’d promised Jessie he wouldn’t lose his temper no matter what, but this woman was sorely trying his patience.

“I believe Samuels Investigating has already explained in detail why I’m here, Miss Roberts,” he said dryly. “But just in case there’s some confusion on your part, I’ll explain again. I’m here to meet my sister.”

Savannah refused to even blink as she stared back at Jake. “And what exactly makes you think Emma is your sister?”

She was cool, aloof even, and except for the tightening of her fingers around the arm of her chair, Jake would have thought her bored. There was something going on under that enticing skin of hers, he realized, and though the idea of exploring that territory appealed to him on a physical level, logic refused to give him more than a passing fantasy.

“Nine years ago you had an affair with my father, J.T. Stone. You disappeared and, according to hospital records uncovered by the P.I., you had a baby seven months later.”

She lifted her chin. “That hardly proves your father is responsible.”

Jake raised one eyebrow. “Are you saying you were sleeping with two men at the same time?”

Savannah felt her neck, then her cheeks, grow hot. She’d known this was going to be difficult, but she hadn’t counted on Jake Stone being so blunt. Damn the man! “Nine years is a long time, Mr. Stone. Whatever happened then has no bearing on now.”

The white silk blouse she wore contrasted sharply with the blush on her face, and her reaction to his question surprised Jake. He wouldn’t have thought a question of standards would have bothered her. “What did happen?”

It wasn’t so much the question he asked as the way he asked it that made Savannah nervous. He was suspicious, she knew it. And she wished to God she could answer him, but the truth was, she didn’t know what had happened. Not once in nine years had Angela even hinted at Emma’s parentage or the circumstances behind it. With both J.T. and Angela gone, perhaps no one would ever know for sure. “It was just one of those...situations,” she said carefully. “There was no reason to burden your father with my...condition.”

He was quiet for a moment, as if assessing her and her answer. “Did you love him?” he finally asked.

“I love Emma,” she answered quickly, perhaps too quickly. “That’s all that matters now. She and I are very happy with the way things are.”

She followed his gaze as he looked around the room. “Things appear to be very good, Miss Roberts. Do you have a...roommate?”

Savannah bristled at the implication in his sarcastic tone. She realized an expensive town house like this one would be difficult for most single women to maintain. Lord knew, she never would have been able to afford it on her teacher’s salary, but for Angela it had been no problem. The lease was paid up for another four months; then Savannah knew she’d have to move to a smaller place.

“No, Mr. Stone, I don’t have a roommate. I don’t need or want one.”

He raised one brow, and when his gaze settled on the hairbrush she’d left lying on the armchair, his eyes narrowed. “And Emma,” he said, staring thoughtfully at the brush, “what about her?”

Savannah gritted her teeth at Jake’s question, but if answering a few questions would get rid of the man, then she was happy to oblige. “She attends a prestigious private girl’s school, has piano lessons every Tuesday and soccer on Saturdays. Other than an occasional argument over eating spinach or picking up her dirty clothes, the two of us get along beautifully.”

Jake rested his arms across the back of the couch. His gaze dropped to her left hand. “So you never married.”

“No.”

“And Emma doesn’t know who her father is.”

Savannah’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t necessary.”

“Is that your answer or Emma’s?”

Savannah felt as if a band were cinching around her chest, squeezing the breath from her. “I asked you before what you want with us, Mr. Stone. I’ll ask you that again.”

“And I’ll answer you again. I’m here to meet Emma.”

“And if I agree, then what?”

“She’s my sister. The Stone family never walks away from one of their own.”

Panic filled Savannah at Jake’s comment. What was he saying? That he wanted to take Emma? She’d never let that happen. Never. She’d run so far the Stone family would never find her or Emma.

Shoulders stiff, Savannah stood and faced Jake. “Why you think you have the right to waltz in here and make demands is beyond me, but as far as I’m concerned, this conversation is through. I think you better leave, Mr. Stone.”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he slowly let his gaze scan her, starting at her legs, hesitating at her breasts, then finally resting on her face. The perusal was long and detailed, and as furious as it made her, Savannah also felt a hot swirl low in her stomach. Clenching her fists, she started to turn toward the front door.

“How old are you, Miss Roberts?”

She went still at his question, then slowly turned back to face him. “Excuse me?’

“I said—” Jake stood “—how old are you?”

Savannah nervously brushed her hair back from her face. “What business is that of yours?”

“I would guess you’re around twenty-five or -six.”

She said nothing, just stared at him.

“And that would make you about sixteen or seventeen when you had an affair with my father.”

Dammit, dammit! There’d been too many years separating her and Angela. Savannah had tried to look older. Conservative clothes and extra makeup. Obviously she’d underestimated Jake Stone.

“I look younger than I am,” she said truthfully. She was twenty-seven.

He kept his eyes on her. “What was my father’s first name?”

Savannah felt her throat go dry. “J.T., of course.”

Impatience twitched at the corner of his mouth. “What was his first name?”

How could she possibly know that? Angela had never wanted anyone to know who Emma’s father was. If the private investigator hadn’t called, Savannah never would have known his name at all. “He didn’t tell me.”

Jake stared sharply down at her. “You supposedly slept with my father and had his child, but you don’t know his first name?”

It was only there for a split second, but Jake saw the fear in the woman’s eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by icy indifference. Lifting her shoulders, she turned stiffly away from him.

“I’ll show you out, Mr. Stone.”

His hand snaked out, catching her by the elbow and holding her fast. “What the hell kind of a game are you playing?”

She stared down coolly at his hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you don’t let go of me and leave right now, I’m going to scream.”

He held fast. “Go ahead and scream. Then if I have to bring in a lawyer, we can find out who you really are and why you’re lying.”

At the mention of a lawyer, she went still. Her frightened gaze darted to his, then, with a long sigh, she closed her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she said quietly.

“You’re damn right I don’t understand. But if you think you can put me off while you figure out a way to get your hands on the land, then you’re sadly mistaken. There’s no way I’m going to stand around and watch while you or anyone else sells off even one foot of Stone Creek.”

She looked genuinely confused. “Land? What are you—”

Jake wasn’t sure what suddenly caught his attention, a soft cry, or a movement at the hall doorway, but he turned then and saw her. A little girl. Her long hair shone dark as a Texas night, and her eyes, filled now with tears, were as blue as cornflowers.

His heart lurched. He stared at the child and knew without a doubt it was Emma. And he also knew without a doubt that she was J.T.’s daughter. The resemblance was uncanny. The little girl was Jessica’s clone, right down to the slight cleft in the chin and pert nose. Amazed, he loosened his grip on the woman, but didn’t let go. She turned then and saw the child.

“Emma!” She jerked out of his hold and moved across the room to the little girl. “I told you to stay in your room.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Savannah, but I heard somebody yell,” Emma said in a tiny shaky voice.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry if we scared you,” Savannah said softly, and took hold of Emma’s hand. “We really didn’t mean to speak so loud.” She turned and sent Jake a piercing look. “Did we, Mr. Stone?”

Jake felt an instant pang of guilt. He was the only one who had raised his voice. Well, hell, he thought, shifting uncomfortably, how was he supposed to know the kid was in the other room?

Jake moved closer to the woman and child, but was careful to keep his distance. “I’m sorry, too, Emma,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “Your aunt Savannah and I were just talking about a few things.”

Emma folded herself against Savannah’s hip. “About me?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Are you my brother?” Emma asked, her eyes wide as she stared up at Jake.

Jake looked at Emma, then at the woman the child clung to. “Yes.”

Savannah slid a protective hand around Emma’s shoulders. “You don’t—”

“My name is Jake,” he said, “and I have a picture of Jessica, your older sister. Would you like to see it?”

The child’s eyes grew even wider. “I have a sister, too?” she asked softly.

“And another brother named Jared,” Jake added, pulling a picture from his wallet and handing it to Emma.

“She looks like me!” Emma cried. “Look, Aunt Savannah. My sister, Jessica, looks just like me.”

With trembling fingers, Savannah took the picture from her niece, wanting desperately for the child to be wrong. Her heart sank as she stared at the photograph. Though faded from what appeared to be several years in a wallet, there was no mistaking the incredible resemblance between Emma and this woman Jessica.

And no denying the truth.

“Isn’t it neat?” Emma looked up at her aunt. “We thought we didn’t have any family. Now we have lots!”

Savannah watched Jake’s brow furrow at Emma’s announcement. Slowly he turned his gaze to meet hers, questioning.

“Yes, Emma, it’s...neat.” Savannah handed the picture back to Jake. “But they aren’t my family, sweetheart, just yours.”

“But they have to be yours if they’re mine,” Emma protested.

“I’ll explain later, Pecan.” Savannah knelt in front of Emma and pushed the hair away from her cherubic face. “But right now I need to speak to...Jake for a few minutes alone. Okay?”

Emma hesitated, and Jake bent close to her, his face almost level with hers. “I promise I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Jake watched as Emma nodded, then walked down the hall, her eyes downcast. At the sound of the bedroom door closing, Savannah moved away from Jake and stepped toward a sliding glass door that led to a small patio. She stood there, arms folded, and stared out at the potted ferns and azaleas. The door was open a few inches and the lace curtains billowed softly in the cool breeze.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked tersely, moving behind her.

Her shoulders tightened, but she did not turn around. “Emma is my niece,” she said quietly. “Angela is...was, my sister.”

Was? Jake frowned, letting the impact of Savannah’s words settle. He waited silently for her to continue.

“Our parents were killed five years ago in a car accident,” she went on. “We have no other family, so Emma always stayed with me when Angela was out of town on business. I loved having her, and because I teach at St. Mary’s Academy here in Atlanta where Emma is in the fourth grade, it was also convenient.”

Savannah’s hand reached out to smooth the lace curtain, and as she did so, the breeze carried the sound of tinkling wind chimes from the patio outside.

“Go on,” he encouraged when she hesitated.

She drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Angela had just received an award for her design of a contemporary art museum in Florida. She’d been gone four days and was anxious to get home. When her flight was canceled, she chartered a private plane to fly her home.”

Savannah turned, and though she looked directly at Jake, he realized she didn’t really see him. “Her birthday was last week. She would have been forty-three.”

Jake felt his gut tighten. Children needed a mother. And a father. At nine years old, Emma had neither. “What do you know about my father and your sister?”

Savannah shook her head. “Nothing. Angela was sixteen years older than me, more like a mother than a sister. I was only eighteen when she came back from a job in Texas. She kept that part of her life completely private, and all I knew was that she’d fallen in love with an older, married man. I’d always assumed he’d turned his back on her when he found out she was pregnant.”

“My father wouldn’t have done that,” Jake said coldly.

“Did you know your father was having an affair?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how do you know what else he did or didn’t do?”

Jake’s face was etched in granite, and his eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “I know that no member of the Stone family would ever walk away from one of their own.”

“Emma is not ‘your own,’” she said fiercely. “She is Emma Victoria Roberts, and she’s mine. I laughed in the delivery room when she was born, applauded her on the soccer field when she got her first goal and cried with her when her mother died. For nine years she’s done fine without you and will continue to do so for ninety more.”

She faced him like a lioness defending her young, her green eyes flashing a challenge and her chin lifted defiantly. The breeze tugged at the ends of her shoulder-length blond hair, and he couldn’t help but notice the graceful sweep of her slender fingers as she absently brushed the strands back.

He moved closer to her, and the scent of magnolias drifted in from the open door. He’d heard the term “steel magnolia” before, but he’d never been face-to-face with it. He felt a tug of desire as he stared at the woman, then reminded himself she’d lied to him. There were few things he tolerated less than lying. Very few things. “Why did you pretend to be Angela?” he asked tightly.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Emma is all I have. Surely you can understand that I would do anything to protect her.”

Jake frowned. “You thought you had to protect her from her own brother?”

“Half brother,” she corrected him.

His jaw tightened. “Family is family. All I want, and Jessica and Jared, as well, is an opportunity to get to know Emma, and for her to know us.”

The fear was back again, Jake noticed. Her green eyes darkened with it momentarily before she quickly wrestled it down. He couldn’t help but give her credit for her control.

“I suppose,” she said, and that enticing accent of hers turned icy. “If you call first, we might be able to make arrangements for visits.”

The idea of making arrangements grated on Jake’s already shredded patience almost as much as Savannah’s cool formality. Tipping his hat back, he let out a heavy sigh. “Well, now, ma’am—” he forced a heavy Texas drawl “—that’s right nice of you, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Oh?” She lifted one delicate eyebrow. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“What I have in mind—” his gaze locked with hers and his voice dropped dangerously low as he stepped closer “—is for my little sister to come home with me.”