Читать книгу Beneath the Stetson - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 9

Three

Bailey leaned against the desk for a full three minutes after Gil left the room, her legs like spaghetti. She had wanted to know if he had felt it, too, the heated connection between them. Now she had irrevocable proof. It was a wonder the tiny room full of aging paper hadn’t gone up in flames on the spot.

Fanning her hot face with one hand, she reached for her briefcase and pulled out her laptop and portable scanner. It was one thing to contemplate seducing the steely-eyed rancher, but another entirely to realize that all he had to do was touch her and she melted.

She was here to do a job. Before she contemplated any hanky-panky, she needed to get her priorities in order. Fortunately, she had made a plan already, so even though her concentration was shot, she was able to follow through with her agenda.

The method of attack was fairly simple. Using a list of interviews from her earliest days in Royal, she pulled file folders methodically, keeping them in alphabetical order. Though she hadn’t anticipated the complication of not having anything digitized, she would cope. As long as she didn’t do something stupid like knocking a pile of paper off the desk, she should be able to proceed with relative efficiency.

Thirty minutes later she had finished reading through three folders and had developed a throbbing tension headache. She banged her fist against her forehead. Not only was much of the information not typed or organized in any discernible fashion, but the handwritten portions were barely legible.

To call this mess record-keeping was generous. It was impossible to compare one file with the next, because every member’s information was different. Other than an initial sheet that documented simple details such as name, address and date of initial membership, all the other pages were a hodgepodge of business deals, sporting records and family connections.

It took her another half hour, but she finally managed to come up with a spreadsheet that allowed her to input the pertinent items that might be of use in the investigation. Her stomach growled more than once. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, too nervous about meeting Gil again to be very interested in food.

She glanced at her watch and sighed. The minutes crawled by. Perhaps she was bored with the job, or maybe she was looking forward to lunch with Gil and his precocious son. Her distraction didn’t bode well for the days ahead....

* * *

Gil prowled the familiar halls of the club, pausing again and again to greet and chat with men he had known for years, many of them since he was a child at his father’s side. He was comfortable within these walls, centered, content. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had suffered a few growing pains lately, but it would survive and thrive.

Tradition and stability were important. Which was why Gil had passed the day-to-day running of his ranch over to other hands so he could concentrate on his son’s well-being. One day, everything Gil owned would go to Cade. Cade would get married, settle down and hopefully have better luck in the romance department than his father had.

What really stuck in Gil’s craw was the knowledge that the genesis of his unease sat not far away, her beautiful head bent over a stack of dull club papers, trying to find dirt on someone who might be Gil’s friend. Perhaps the real problem wasn’t that Gil didn’t trust Bailey. Perhaps what bothered him the most was the notion that someone in Royal could have committed such a terrible crime.

Alex was back home, true. But a man with no memory was as vulnerable as a baby in the middle of a busy city street. How would Alex know if the perpetrators came at him again? How would anyone ever know what evil roamed the streets of Royal if Alex never remembered?

For years, Royal had been a great place to live, to raise a family. Occasionally the sheriff was forced to contend with cattle rustlers. And once in a while a two-bit drug dealer might try to set up shop. Of course, there were the usual domestic disturbances, or teenagers letting off steam on a Saturday night. But all in all, Royal was a pretty safe place.

At least it was until Alex Santiago had disappeared. The local and state authorities had crawled all over the town in the beginning. There were rumors of a potential drug war or maybe even bad blood between Alex and Chance McDaniel, who had appeared interested in the same woman. But since that time, everyone Gil knew intimately had been marked off the suspect list.

Which was all well and good except for the fact that still no one knew who the kidnappers were.

Maybe Gil should be more helpful to Bailey. He wanted his town back to normal, and Bailey wanted to close her case. So perhaps it was in Gil’s best interest to help her. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she would leave town and go back to Dallas. That would be the smartest thing that could happen.

Gil didn’t need the complication of an uncomfortable sexual attraction that was not likely to go anywhere. Already, Gil’s son liked Bailey. Which meant that soon Cade would be weaving scenarios where Bailey became his new mom. Gil had seen it happen before. The boy’s unwavering fixation on finding a mother meant that Gil no longer dated in Royal.

Not that he ever had dated much. When his physical needs became too demanding, he either dealt with them via a cold shower, or he met up with an old female friend in another town who was as uninterested in a serious relationship as Gil was. Those encounters left him feeling empty and oddly restless. But Gil had yet to find a woman who came even close to what he thought his son needed.

Bailey was a career woman whose job involved a lot of travel. Though Bailey and Cade had clicked at their first meeting, Bailey didn’t strike Gil as the nurturing type. Cade had lost so much. If and when Gil ever remarried, it would be to a woman with traditional values, a woman who believed in the importance of being a full-time parent.

Gil had played that role for a very long time. And never once regretted his decision. Cade’s sweet spirit and outgoing personality were proof that Gil had at least done something right. But Cade would soon be going to school full time. As much as Gil would miss his son, he was looking forward to once again taking an active role in the management of the Straight Arrow.

What he and Cade needed was a down-to-earth woman, one who would supervise the domestic staff, plan meals for the housekeeper to carry out and organize social events...tasks Gil had no interest in at all.

That paragon of a woman was out there somewhere. Gil had to believe she was, because the prospect of spending his entire life as a single parent and a single man sounded very lonely indeed.

At ten after twelve, he gave up the pretense of being busy and headed back to his office. Bailey didn’t appear to have moved at all since he left her two hours ago. She was surrounded by stacks of paper. Her fingers flew with impressive speed over the keys of her laptop computer.

She didn’t even notice when he came in.

He cleared his throat. Bailey’s head snapped up as she glared at him. “It wouldn’t hurt you to knock,” she said. “You scared me to death.”

“It’s my office,” he responded mildly. “You’re only visiting.” He grabbed a ladder-back chair and turned it around, straddling the seat. Bailey was behind his desk, so he now faced her across the cluttered surface. Her thick russet hair was drawn back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Tendrils waved around her face. Her work must have been frustrating, because the vibe he was getting from her was definitely harried. “Problems, Bailey?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You knew how impossible this was going to be, didn’t you?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I have the utmost faith in your capabilities.” He paused. “Any luck?” He didn’t really want to get involved in what he considered a breach of privacy for the members of the club, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be blindsided with any surprises.

She gnawed her lip, her gaze flitting back to the computer screen. “It’s a little early to tell. But I do have some questions about this man.” She shoved a folder toward Gil. “According to his file, he’s been cited three separate times for fighting on club property. Do you know if he had any kind of grudge against Alex Santiago?”

Gil glanced at the name on the tab and shook his head, grinning. “Just a good ole boy who gets rowdy when he’s had one too many beers. We keep track of such incidents, just in case, but our policy is to prevent members from doing damage to themselves or anyone else. Someone usually takes the offender home and keeps his keys until the following day. I know this guy, Bailey. He didn’t kidnap Alex.”

The slight frown between her brows deepened. She handed him a second file. “And this one? He filed a formal complaint when the club hired a Hispanic chef. His letter includes a number of racial slurs.”

Gil flipped open the folder and shook his head. “You’re grasping at straws. There are bigots everywhere. But that doesn’t mean this guy had any reason to kidnap Alex.” He touched her hand briefly, surprising himself when he felt a zing of something from the simple contact. “Have you considered the possibility that you might be stirring up unnecessary trouble?”

“What do you mean?”

She was so earnest, so dedicated to her work. And clearly able to take care of herself. Even so, Gil felt a distinct urge to protect her. Her white silk blouse was thin, thin enough for Gil to notice the outline of a lacy bra. Despite her extensive training and her credentials, she seemed vulnerable and surprisingly feminine even taking into consideration her deliberately bland and professional clothing.

Bailey’s soft skin, gently rounded breasts, and graceful hands reminded Gil that beneath the outer shell of efficiency, she was a woman. He met her brown-eyed gaze with a calm he didn’t feel. Some way, somehow, he had to convince her to back off this investigation. The feeling in his gut could be called premonition...or simply common sense. But he trusted that feeling...always.

“What you’re doing is dangerous, Bailey. If word gets out that you’re poking around in the TCC records, whoever kidnapped Alex may get spooked and try to harm you.”

She sighed and closed her computer. “Is this genuine concern, or are you trying to get rid of me?”

“All of the above?” He asked it jokingly, but he sobered rapidly. “Alex escaped and made his way back home. Which means somebody out there is really pissed off and may try again. There’s a good chance Alex is still in danger. By involving yourself in his situation, you court the same trouble.”

Her chin lifted. “I’m doing my job. No more, no less.”

“And if your job could get you killed?”

“I’m a paper pusher, Gil.”

“You’re a pain in the butt,” he groused, realizing he wasn’t going to win this round. But hearing her say his name was a small victory, nevertheless. He stood and held out his hand. “I’m starving, and Cade will be, too. Let’s go find him.”

* * *

The club dining room was packed. Bailey looked around with interest as the hostess led them across the floor. In a far corner at a table for two sat Rory and Shannon Fentress, still basking in the glow of being newlyweds. It was rumored that Rory had his eye on the governor’s mansion.

Like Bailey, Shannon was not much of a girlie girl. She owned and managed a working ranch and dressed accordingly when she was in town on business. Judging by the way Rory looked at his new wife, he liked her just the way she was.

Gil had reserved a table by the window because Cade liked to watch the horses outside. Though of course the TCC had a parking lot, it wasn’t at all unusual for someone to ride up, tie his mount to the wooden railings out front, and saunter inside for a bite of lunch.

Cade was his usually bubbly self. “I’m glad you’re eating lunch with us, Miss Bailey.” His form of address was the compromise Gil had allowed in his insistence that his son learn manners.

Bailey smiled at him. “Me, too. Did you enjoy yourself this morning?”

Cade nodded, already filling his mouth with crackers.

Without saying a word, Gil removed the basket from his son’s reach. “I think a lot of the members have been surprised at how nice it is to be able to drop off a son or daughter or even a grandchild and to know that the kids are close by, happy and safe.”

“Do you think the trouble is over?”

“I do. I really do. I still hear grumbling, of course. Particularly from the old guard.”

“You mean like him?” Bailey cocked her head unobtrusively, not letting Cade see. A few tables away sat Paul Windsor, a charter member of the TCC.

Gil grimaced. “Yeah. He’s one of the worst. But even so, I doubt he’d ever actually do anything to cause problems for the center.”

Bailey shuddered inwardly. She had interviewed Paul during her initial investigation, and the man had given her the creeps. Divorced four times, Windsor considered himself a ladies’ man. During the course of her questioning, Bailey had discovered without a doubt that Windsor was perhaps the most overt and obnoxious chauvinist she had ever met. He made no secret of his disdain for Bailey.

“I feel sorry for Cara,” she said, “having such an overbearing father.” Bailey knew what that was like far too well.

“I’ll admit...Windsor can be a jerk. But he wields a lot of influence around here, so it would be a plus to stay on his good side if you want to make any progress with your investigation. If he were to raise a stink, he could convince others that you shouldn’t be here in the club.”

“But I have a legal warrant.”

“Yes. And ultimately that would prevail. In the interim, though, things could get ugly.”

“Is my presence going to cause big problems for you, Gil?” The thought troubled her.

He laughed, his dark eyes warm and teasing. “I can handle trouble, Bailey. Don’t worry about me.”

Cade, tired of being ignored, piped up, a sly smile on his face. “Do you know how to cook, Miss Bailey?”

Bailey raised her eyebrows. “Where did that come from?”

Cade took a bite of the hot dog their server had delivered moments ago. Pausing to chew and swallow, he fixed her with the blue eyes that helped make him such a cute kid. “I dunno,” he said, the picture of innocence. “Dad says when I’m getting to know someone, it’s nice to ask them questions...but not too personal,” he added hastily, glancing at his father with a guilty expression.

“That’s good advice,” Bailey said. “So, in answer to your question, yes...I’m a pretty good cook. I started learning when I was not much bigger than you.”

Cade nodded solemnly, his milk mustache adding to his charm. “And do you like little kids?”

Suddenly, she understood what was happening. She was being interviewed for a job. As Cade’s mommy. Dear Lord. Fortunately for her peace of mind, the rest of their meal arrived, and in the hubbub of drink refills and the server’s chatter, the moment passed.

Bailey had looked forward to an intimate lunch with the two Addison men, but unfortunately, this was not the venue. Gil could barely eat his meal because of repeated interruptions from club members happy to see him. What Bailey suddenly understood was that Gil had sacrificed an enormous amount in choosing intentionally to be the caregiver for his son.

Over the course of almost five years, Gil was wealthy enough to have hired the best nannies in the world. He could have gone about his business, running the ranch, hanging out at the TCC, meeting women, perhaps marrying again. Instead, he had made his son a priority. Fortunately, his current role as TCC president was more of an honorary position than a demanding job.

The enthusiasm with which club members greeted him during one short lunch indicated both that Gil was extremely popular and well-liked, and that he likely was not able to be present at the club as often as many of his cohorts.

Cade bore the intrusion of one table guest after another with equanimity. Several of the men addressed him personally. For a child not yet old enough for school, his composure and patience were commendable.

Not many boys of Bailey’s acquaintance would be able to tolerate an extended meal in public without raising a ruckus. She sneaked him a couple of extra French fries off her plate while Gil was otherwise occupied. “Is it always like this?” she asked.

Cade nodded. “Yep. Everybody likes my dad.” The words were matter-of-fact, but Bailey heard the pride behind them.

“So,” she whispered conspiratorially, “do you think we get dessert?”

Cade wrinkled his nose. “If I eat most of my salad.” He stared dolefully at the small bowl, clearly not a fan of spinach mix.

“I remember once when I was about your age, my mother made me eat black-eyed peas that I didn’t like. I broke out in a rash all over my whole body, and I never had to eat them again.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Cade’s eyes widened with fascination.

“Unfortunately, I think the rash happened because I was so upset. But you could always try using a red marker to put dots all over your skin. I’m kidding,” she said hastily, suddenly visualizing an awful scenario where Gil realized Bailey had been giving his son tips on how to bypass healthy eating.

“I know that.” Cade rolled his eyes. “You’re funny, Miss Bailey.”

Bailey had been called a lot of things in her life...responsible, hardworking, dedicated. But no one had ever called her funny. She kind of liked it. And she very much liked Gil’s precious son.

Gil stood and touched Bailey’s shoulder. “If you two would excuse me for a few moments, I need to speak to a gentleman at that table in the corner. I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Your food will get cold,” Cade said.

“I bet the chef will warm it up for me. Love you, son. Back in a minute.” Gil kissed the top of Cade’s head and strode away.