Читать книгу The Gazebo - Kimberly Cates - Страница 11

JAKE PRESSED THE ICE PACK to his swelling jaw, hoping the ache would distract him. But even the memory of Deirdre McDaniel would be damned before it cooperated with him.

He closed his eyes, arched his head back, trying to blot out the feline angles of her face, the defiance in her I-dare-you eyes and the taunting softness of lips that had haunted his dreams more times in the past six years than he would admit even to himself.

She was still every bit as wild and beautiful as the mustang mare he’d rescued from the glue factory as a kid back in Nevada. He’d been determined to get past the horse’s defenses, teach her to trust. He’d gotten a broken collarbone and three cracked ribs before his grandmother had drawn the line. She’d told him some creatures were broken inside, too deep for anyone to fix. Sometimes the kindest thing to do was leave them alone.

Where Deirdre McDaniel was concerned, Jake had sure the hell tried to do just that. Stay as far away from the lady as possible.

And yet, down in Jake’s gut where instinct lived, he’d always known she’d walk back into his life someday. And that she’d hate him.

Jake stalked through the open door joining his office to the private part of his house and turned to glare down at the occupant of a giant-size cedar pillow on the floor near the heating vent. The mass of wrinkles around the bloodhound’s droopy face made her look as if she had melted into the Black Watch plaid fabric.

“I could have used some help in there,” Jake complained, nudging a hindquarter gently with the toe of his boot. The dog opened an eye and thumped her tail once on the pillow as if to say, I knew you had it covered, boss.

“Oh, yeah. I had it covered all right,” Jake murmured irritably. Three cons he could handle. What he couldn’t handle was five feet three inches of woman with a giant-size chip on her shoulder. What a kick in the gut it had been when he’d seen Deirdre standing there. All that fire still in her eyes.

Hell, any red-blooded man alive would wonder if she was as hot in bed as that mouth of hers promised. It had been lust at first sight. Her skin creamy smooth, touched with roses, her chin-length hair tousled as if mussed by a lover’s hands, her eyes so blue a man could swim in them if he had the guts. Because, in spite of her petite size and the feminine curves of her body, there were dangerous waters running deep in Deirdre McDaniel, monsters under the surface she didn’t let anyone see.

And what had he done? Blurted out her name like some idiot. It was damned embarrassing remembering the stunned expression on her face. He’d made it plain he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind all these years, and put her in even more danger when Hedron and his boys got the crazy idea that he’d had his hands all over her. Yeah, right. In his dreams.

“So I remember her name. So what? I’m just a kick-ass detective, right, Ellie May? It’s my job to remember details. And the woman did slam my foot in her door the first time we met.”

Deirdre had been as fierce as a lioness that day, defending Finn, a woman she’d known only a few days. God, she’d been magnificent—all righteous indignation, so damned loving and brave. She’d made him want her from that first moment. Want her beneath him, want to bury himself in her heat, see if he could make all that fiery passion break free and warm the cold places inside him no one else could ever touch. He got hard even now, just thinking about—

Yeah, that kind of thinking could land a man in big trouble.

It was a damned good thing Trula had called, just the sound of her voice bringing him back to his senses. Because when he’d been standing there, looking into Deirdre McDaniel’s eyes, listening to a woman so proud, pleading for him to help her…he’d been on the brink of making one spectacularly stupid move.

But then, he’d always had a hard time saying no to damsels in distress. Not that Deirdre was his usual type. He liked his women leggy and gorgeous and feminine, adoring him, making him feel invincible. The way Jessica had before a smoking gun had destroyed their future.

Ellie May pawed at his leg, sensing his dark thoughts. She gazed up at him soulfully, as if to say he didn’t need any other woman but her. She loved him. Adored him.

The dog rolled over, exposing her belly. Her pink tongue lolled out the side of her mouth, the animal certain that looking ridiculous would make scratching her belly irresistible to Jake.

“You’re pathetic.” He hunkered down, running his fingernails lightly over Ellie’s sleek chest. “No wonder the K-9 squad washed you out.” Ellie wriggled in delight.

“I know, I know. Masters who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw bones. You’re right. This is crazy. I just need to forget this whole deal. I told Deirdre I wouldn’t take the case, didn’t I? I’ll be damned if I’m going to help her destroy her life, hurt her family. I’ve had a bellyful of that, especially where the McDaniels are concerned.”

He remembered the brother—Cade—and his pretty wife solemnly handing over the first check to repay the money Ms. O’Grady’s father had stolen. The two had moved heaven and earth to make good on Patrick O’Grady’s debt. They’d surprised Jake, made him realize just how jaded he’d become, how little he believed in people anymore. Honest people. Decent people. People who did what was right even when they could just turn and walk away. But then, cynicism was an occupational hazard when you made a career out of exposing people’s dirty laundry.

Deirdre McDaniel should get down on her knees every night and thank God she had the family she did. Burn the letter and forget she had any father but that irascible character, Martin McDaniel.

That would happen when Ellie May had a face-lift, Jake thought grimly. Deirdre McDaniel would never let this thing go. She’d worry it until there was nothing left of her.

And she’d lose. Lose big. There were plenty of people who would rake the past up for the right price and wouldn’t give a damn…

Well, too damned bad. He’d warned her, hadn’t he? If she was too stubborn to listen, fine. Let her have at it. She wasn’t his responsibility. He’d seen too many people disillusioned. He didn’t want to see her that way. He wanted to keep her in his memory the way she’d been that first day, all fight and fire and fierce, bright love.

Except that now he’d spend forever wondering what she’d uncovered, how it had changed her. Wondering if she’d let anyone catch her when she fell.

Jake paced to the sink, let the ice pack fall. Gingerly he touched the swelling where the blackjack had grazed him. Deirdre would be fine. She was far from helpless, he reminded himself.

She was a fighter.

After all, an hour ago the woman had even fought for him.

What had she been thinking jumping in like that? Irritation burned through him afresh. She could have been hurt. Hell, once things turned ugly, she could have been killed. One of the cons had tried to pull a knife. Hedron hadn’t come into the office bent on murder. He’d just been juiced up by Conlan, and aching for a fistfight to teach Stone a lesson. But if that knife had driven home, all three cons would have been desperate to cover their tracks, keep out of jail. They might not be the brightest crayons in the box, but they’d have to be cretins to trust Deirdre to keep her mouth shut. And the only way they could be sure of her silence was a permanent solution.

But now Hedron wouldn’t be back. Thank God he was basically a coward, not evil the way some of the lowlifes Jake had to deal with were. Still, there was plenty of scum out there.

How could Jake know for sure that this Jimmy Rivermont wasn’t one of them? A leech or a con man or worse still, some sociopath ready to suck Deirdre dry? Destroy her family? He remembered her little girl, Emma. All big, dark eyes, a face too tender for the real world. What if Deirdre was unwittingly bringing a monster into her daughter’s life?

He heard the lazy click of Ellie May’s nails on the slate floor, glanced down to see her gazing up at him as if he were some kind of hero. One who would never leave Deirdre and Emma McDaniel to the wolves.

“Quit looking at me like that!” he told the dog. “She’s not my problem.”

Ellie May licked his hand. He shot her the glare that made grown men back down. She wasn’t impressed.

“Fine,” he snarled. “Have it your way. I’ll be damage control for the woman, if nothing else. I’ve never met any woman more likely to get herself in trouble.”

Ellie tipped her head. He’d never seen a more eloquent expression saying the canine equivalent of “yeah, right.” He could almost hear the dog laughing her wrinkles off.

She eyed the jar of dog treats on the counter longingly. Now she wanted him to reward her for being a world-class nag? Not in this lifetime.

“Know what, Ellie?” he grumbled. “You’re a real bitch.”

Then he threw her a goddamn Milk-Bone.

DEIRDRE HAD BEEN DREADING the slam of the screen door for hours. She pulled the covers up higher over her pajamas and glanced at the clock on her bedside table, knowing Emma was home. The girl was more reliable than Old Faithful. Always on time or calling to check in if something earth-shattering was making her late. It made Deirdre a little sad, knowing how careful her daughter had become in the years since Deirdre had left her with Cade for those nine long months. It was as if some part of Emma were still afraid Deirdre might leave her again if the going got rough.

And in the near future things around here were bound to get rough indeed. Because Jake Stone or no Jake Stone, Deirdre wasn’t about to give up on finding her real father. A musician, just like she was, she thought with a tingle of anticipation. She wanted to see him, wanted to know how she looked like him, how they were alike. Wanted to see unreserved approval in a parent’s eyes and know…know that someone believed her perfect, just the way she was.

There is no guarantee he’ll feel that way, her subconscious warned in a voice annoyingly like Jake Stone’s.

But she had to believe Jimmy Rivermont would understand how it felt to make mistakes, and fear you could never make things right. After all, he’d had an affair with a married woman, gotten her pregnant. Had he known he’d fathered a child? The letter made it sound as if her mother had never told him.

“Mom?” Emma called softly, knocking on the bedroom door.

Deirdre’s heart squeezed. “I’ve told you a jillion times you can just come in.”

Emma carefully opened the door and peered inside, her face far too pale, too sad, too young. Deirdre’s heart ached for her. This was supposed to be Emma’s big day—getting the part she’d worked so hard for, defying the high school pecking order and earning the chance to prove to everyone that she was the finest actress Whitewater High had ever seen.

“Come in already,” Deirdre urged with tender impatience. “What are you waiting for?”

“I keep hoping someday I’ll knock and you’ll surprise me.” Emma gave a wan smile. “You’ll get all embarrassed and say, ‘Just a minute, sweetheart, let Mel Gibson here get on his clothes.’”

“Emmaline!”

“I can’t help it. I won’t be around forever, Mom. I…worry about you.”

Deirdre surrendered any effort to keep her game face on. “Children aren’t supposed to worry about their parents. It’s meant to be the other way around.”

“Tell that to Uncle Cade.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I’m an adult. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so. Especially after…well, after today. That letter.” Emma fretted her lower lip. “You looked like—like it was the end of the world when you read it. I called Uncle Cade on my break, to warn him, you know…about what you read. So he could fix it.”

“Oh, Emma!”

“You should have heard him, Mom. He said you’d already been there. He sounded like…I hadn’t heard him sound like that since the morning when I was ten and we woke up and you were gone.”

Deirdre tensed. Imagining that morning had become the stuff of her worst nightmares. “The information in the letter wasn’t exactly news to your uncle,” Deirdre said, feeling defensive.

“It was to Grandpa. He’s really upset, Mom.”

Deirdre’s heart sank. Sometimes she almost felt jealous over the relationship between her daughter and Martin McDaniel. Envied their easy camaraderie. Who ever would have believed two people as night-and-day different from each other as Emma and her grandfather could understand each other perfectly? “You saw the Captain?” Deirdre said, already guessing the answer.

“I took off a little early.” Emma blushed—and no wonder, Deirdre thought. She’d broken McDaniel rule number 563—never take off work unless you’re in the hospital, a car accident or dead.

“Miss Madison said I looked sick.” Emma’s eyes turned pleading. “It wasn’t a lie. I felt like I was going to throw up.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Deirdre threw back part of the covers and opened her arms. Emma crossed to the bed and climbed stiffly in beside her. It had been too long since Emma had done this, Deirdre thought with a tug of regret.

Once this had been an every-night treat, Emma snuggling up in her mother’s bed before she’d toddled off to her own. Emma had talked and talked in her adorable, ohso-serious way, confident her mother could explain all the mysteries of the universe. But once she’d turned thirteen, Emma had guarded her new dignity so fiercely the nighttime ritual had all but vanished.

Deirdre wished that she could just relax and enjoy this night and the closeness she’d once taken for granted, Emma warm beside her, baring the secrets of her heart. But what had happened today had changed everything. There was no going back. Even Emma would have to understand that.

“Mom, everybody’s a mess over at the cabin,” Emma confided. “Aunt Finn’s been crying until her eyes are all swollen. And Uncle Cade’s gritting his teeth so hard his jaw looks like it’s going to crack. And the Captain, he wouldn’t even let me talk to him about—well, about the letter. But I wouldn’t go away. I cornered him and I told him not to worry. You always told me it didn’t matter who my father was. What mattered was who I was.”

Deirdre flinched, Emma’s words digging deep. She cuddled Emma close, burying her nose in the crown of her head. A sweet, fruity scent filled Deirdre’s nose—no simple baby shampoo for Emma anymore. She’d changed to something that promised to tame the wild curl in her hair. Thank God it hadn’t really worked.

Deirdre closed her eyes, thinking about how many times she had told her baby how wonderful she was, had said her father didn’t matter. Deirdre had tried to shield Emma, protect her, give her armor against inevitable gossip, even though she knew plenty of nasty jabs would slip through. Everyone in Whitewater was aware that Emma had never known her father. And she never would.

Deirdre started, realizing Emma had kept on talking, certain her mother was hanging on every word. “That’s why I had to see Grandpa and tell him that as soon as you cooled off, you’d know it doesn’t matter who your birth father is, either. Because that’s what you told me.”

“Oh, Emma.”

“I hate that tone of voice. It’s your ‘poor little Emma can’t understand something so grown-up’ voice. But nobody in the whole world understands better than I do about this. Wondering who your father is. Wondering if he’d love you or if he’d turn away, trying to pretend you didn’t know each other.”

Deirdre swallowed hard, tried to grasp the least painful way to tell her daughter the truth. “Emma, I know this is hard.”

“Yeah, well, hard is starting over at new schools so often you don’t even bother trying to make friends anymore. Hard is getting stuck in fifth grade with kids who’d known each other since kindergarten. It’s not like I don’t know what ‘hard’ means.”

Deirdre’s eyes stung. “Emma, you’re a smart girl. You have to know things have never been great between the Captain and me.”

“It’s because you’re too much alike. You just keep butting heads and no one will say they’re sorry, even when you both are.”

“This is my decision. Can you understand that? Trust me to know—know what I need to do?”

“You can do whatever you want. But I’m keeping the family I’ve got. I’m not calling anyone but the Captain Grandpa. It would break his heart.”

And I always thought he was more concerned about his pride. Deirdre bit her lip until it stung to keep from saying the words aloud. Her daughter didn’t need to hear them.

“What are you going to do?” Emma asked. “How are you going to…well, how does a person look for their father if they don’t know him?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, thinking of Jake Stone, a knot of helplessness and frustration balling up under her ribs. “But I intend to find out.”

“Mom?” Emma hung on to Deirdre, tight.

“What, angel girl?”

“I’m scared.”

“I am, too. But we’ll…we’ll get through this together, okay? Nothing can come between the two of us, right?”

Emma gazed up at her, doubtful.

“Enough of all this gloom and doom. I want to hear about you. Tell me about the play. About rehearsals and running lines and all those things you love.”

A shadow of a smile curved Emma’s lips, and Deirdre burned at the injustice that the disastrous letter and Emma’s triumph had surfaced on the same day.

“Mom, we can talk about all that later. I know you don’t feel like—”

“Hearing how my baby turned the whole drama department on its ear? Oh, yes, I do. Come on,” Deirdre encouraged, forcing a smile of her own. “You must be excited.”

“Yeah. Most of the time. But sometimes, well, it’s scary, too.”

“You’ve never had stage fright in your life!” Deirdre said, surprised.

“All the popular kids in school want me to fall flat on my face,” Emma confided. “They say Juliet was Brandi’s part. She was so sure she was going to get it that her mom volunteered to donate costumes for the play. She had this place in the Quad Cities sew a velvet Juliet gown to die for.”

“I’m sure it will look wonderful on you.”

“I suppose. But it’s a lot of pressure, you know? I’m going to have to practice real hard. And at school, well, it’s going to be awful tense with everybody hoping I’ll screw up.”

The little jerks, Deirdre thought, wishing she could spank every one of the spoiled, undertalented brats.

“Anyway, I was thinking, well, I wanted to ask you if you’d mind…”

“Mind what?” Deirdre said, knowing she’d do anything in her power to drive the self-doubt from her precious daughter’s face.

“If Drew and I practiced here after school sometimes. Away from all the craziness.” Emma’s gaze flitted like a butterfly, landing anywhere but her mother’s face. “We could use the gazebo.”

Deirdre closed her eyes. She was always thrilled when Emma had friends over; her daughter’s close little crowd had always been a delight. But right now, with her insides churning, her mind racing, trying to think how to begin this search—for once, Deirdre just wanted to be alone.

“You’re not going to let little witches like Brandi Bates ruin this for you, are you?” she hedged, trying to sort things through.

“Of course not. I just…she’s acting so weird. All jealous. It’s ridiculous. She’s gorgeous and I’m…well…I’m me. It isn’t like she has any reason to think I could steal her boyfriend even if I wanted to.”

Deirdre’s heart skipped a beat. “But you don’t want to.”

“Mom!” Emma drew out the word in the age-old voice of teenage disgust. Deirdre tried not to worry that Emma wasn’t looking her straight in the eye. “I know things are crazy right now, but Drew and I won’t get in the way. I promise. You won’t even know we’re here.”

“All right,” Deirdre said, giving Emma one last hug. The whole Romeo and Juliet thing made her nerves twitch. But if Emma was going to be making big eyes at this Drew person, better Deirdre should be around to keep an eye on things instead of some brain-dead teacher who obviously thought all this teenage romance stuff was exquisite drama.

Deirdre knew better. She’d found out the truth the night her daughter was conceived.

DEIRDRE WOKE WITH A JOLT, a bright ray of sun squeezing between cracks in the plantation shutters sending frissons of panic racing through her. She glanced at the alarm clock, but the ringer was off. Did she forget to set it last night? Finn was going to kill her. The giant oak table in the dining room should be full of guests expecting one of March Winds’ famous breakfasts of freshbaked muffins and spinach omelets and there wouldn’t be a crumb in sight. Why hadn’t Finn wakened her when she came over to help serve?

Deirdre scrambled into jeans and a T-shirt, raked a brush through her unruly hair, swiped a toothbrush across her teeth and ran for the kitchen. She was halfway down the stairs when it hit her—the cold, clear memory of the day before. Deirdre stumbled to a halt, loss, betrayal and anger washing over her as if they were brand-new.

Her stomach turned over, and for an instant she wished it was yesterday morning again. She and Finn preparing breakfast together, laughing over one of the twins’ latest escapades.

Deirdre had never had a friend like Finn before, someone she felt completely safe with, trusted enough to let glimpse her softer side. Someone she trusted—who had been lying to her the whole time.

How long had Finn known the whole sordid story? How much of Finn’s friendship was based on plain, ugly pity?

Poor Deirdre…not her fault…She could just imagine the scene at the cabin, even without Emma’s description the night before.

Thank God no one else in Whitewater knew the truth. Only Emma and Cade and Finn and the Captain. More humiliating still was her encounter with Jake Stone. She squirmed inwardly. Never before in her life had she begged anyone for anything. But she’d begged him to help her. Probably given him something to laugh about with Miss Great Legs, Trula Devine.

Deirdre’s cheeks burned. She wished she could turn around and run back to her bedroom, lock the whole world out until…

Until she was in control again. Control of her feelings, her life, her past…but then, anyone in town could have told her a long time ago that she was out of control.

Still, dodging breakfast duty wouldn’t change any of that. She’d have to face Finn sometime. Better get it over with now.

Deirdre opened the kitchen door, but instead of chaos, an amazing serenity reigned, the kitchen smelling of cinnamon apple muffins, the antique china Finn cherished neatly rinsed, stacked and waiting to be loaded into one of the dishwashers. Finn leaned over her very pregnant stomach, settling teacups in the top rack.

“It was supposed to be your day off kitchen duty,” Deirdre said.

Finn shot her a searching look, then shrugged. “I told Emma to shut your alarm off before she went to bed.”

Was that why Emma had slipped into bed with her last night? Because she was on some subversive mission from the enemy? Deirdre wanted to be aggravated, but it was so like Finn to think about her, do something kind. Deirdre’s throat ached.

“What did you think? If I took a nap like a good girl I’d get over the crazy notion of trying to find my real father?”

“No. I thought you might be tired.” Finn poured a mug of coffee and pressed it into Deirdre’s hands. “You aren’t a morning person on the best of days.”

And she never would be, Deirdre thought. All those years of singing in clubs had thrown her body clock completely out of whack. One more way Deirdre had been out of sync with the early-bird McDaniels. But maybe Jimmy Rivermont would understand. Musician to musician.

Not that she was a musician anymore, she told herself firmly. She’d hadn’t sung anything besides “Happy Birthday” in six years.

“Finn, listen, I appreciate you coming over and playing back-up. But I’m here now, and I’m in a real barn burner of a mood, so if you have to hover over somebody, hover over Cade and the—”

A sharp knock on the door cut Deirdre off midsentence. Please, God, she thought, exhausted, don’t make this one of those “speaking of the devil” deals. Facing Finn was one thing. Cade and the Captain? That was one confrontation she just wasn’t ready for.

“The Captain and Cade have the old Porsche in pieces all over the garage. With Amy and Will ‘helping,’ they may never get it back together again,” Finn supplied, able to read her thoughts as usual.

Deirdre should have guessed what her brother would be up to. It was vintage Cade McDaniel, trying to fix the nearest engine the way he could never mend his family.

Deirdre started toward the door, but Finn cut her off. “I’ll answer it. You’ll scare the guests away glaring like that.”

Finn opened the door, but her “Welcome to March Winds” speech died on her lips. Deirdre’s heart jumped, wondering what was wrong. “M-Mr. Stone?” Finn’s voice quavered. “Did something happen to Mrs. Aronson?”

Deirdre quelled the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Trust Finn to inquire after the woman she and Cade had written all those checks to over the years.

“No, ma’am,” Stone said, so respectfully Finn might have been the Queen Mum. “Mrs. Aronson is just fine. I’ve come to see Deirdre.”

“Deirdre?”

“She visited my office last night regarding a private matter.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.” Finn shot a searching look Deirdre’s way. Finn was white as March Winds’ ghost. And what was this “I see” garbage? Why didn’t she just say, “How could you hire this man who reminds me that my father was a thief?”

Stone stepped inside. He wore black jeans, another black T-shirt and a black Stetson. Who’d he think he was? Johnny Cash? Stone removed the Stetson, cradling it in one strong hand. His gaze dipped to Finn’s impressive stomach. “You look wonderful, Mrs. McDaniel. Happy. I’m glad.”

Yeah, Deirdre thought. Her sister-in-law was so happy at the moment Deirdre would be lucky if Finn didn’t deck her later.

“Stone,” Deirdre said, trying not to hope he’d changed his mind about helping her. But then, why else would he be here? To try to talk her out of pursuing the whole thing? Deirdre grimaced—she’d just tell him to get in line.

He turned toward her, and Deirdre found herself staring smack in the middle of all that imposing male chest. “I’ve been considering your case. Talked it over with someone and decided I might have time to take it after all.”

Deirdre tracked her gaze up his corded neck, past his square, chiseled jaw and hawklike nose so she could glare right into his eyes. “Let me guess. Ms. Great Legs Trula Devine needed more cash than you had on hand?”

Finn looked as if she’d swallowed a teacup.

“Actually, another lady friend of mine convinced me to come. She’s a real looker, too, with sensational red hair. And she’s definitely less expensive than Trula. All this lady wants is a meal.”

Great. He had two cheap bimbos on the string. Jake Stone could be the poster boy for why Deirdre had sworn off men.

Stone fingered the brim of his hat. “I was hoping I could get some information from you. Interview anyone who might give me a place to start.”

“My brother. He’s the only one our mother ever spoke to about—well, about my father. He’s at the cabin.”

Finn started to object, stopped. Deirdre figured she knew better. “I could go to the cabin and send him over here.” Finn offered. “That way no one else needs to know.” She looked more McDaniel-like than ever before—dead stubborn—and Deirdre knew who she was trying to protect. The crotchety old man whose heart Emma feared might break.

Finn dodged out the kitchen door as quickly as her advanced pregnancy would allow. Deirdre could almost see her, hurrying through the garden, disappearing beyond the white picket gate as she headed home.

Deirdre should have been glad she was gone, taking her reproachful eyes with her. But the kitchen seemed to shrink with Stone’s big body in it, the intensity of the P.I. sucking all the oxygen from the room. It was too easy to remember how he’d felt those few moments when he’d held her after the fight. Powerful, dangerous. Fierce and forbidden. Hot and hard and blatantly male. He’d towered over her, making her want…

Want what? Total disaster? Jake Stone was a prime example of Mother Nature’s cunning, ready to trick an intelligent woman into spinning completely out of control. Surrendering independence to taste physical pleasure. No question Stone was temptation incarnate. Let Trula Devine and his gorgeous redhead play with Stone’s brand of fire. Deirdre wasn’t about to get burned by any man.

Again.

The word echoed through Deirdre’s mind. She started, suddenly aware of Stone’s cool, assessing gaze on her face. She could almost hear the gears in his head spinning, trying to figure her out. Her cheeks burned, an instinctive need to flee racing through her veins. She needed a few moments alone to compose herself, put herself back together. So she could face her brother, she told herself firmly.

Deirdre made her excuses, and went to fetch the letter from her room. If anything had the power to drain some of Stone’s undeniable magnetism it was the prospect of seeing her brother.

She fought down a surge of guilt. Old habits die hard, she told herself. For once, a mess wasn’t her fault. Cade was the one who’d had choices all these years. She had every right to be furious with him. All she was trying to do was find out the truth.

By the time she got back to the kitchen, Cade was standing two steps inside the door, arms crossed over his chest as he told Stone exactly what a rotten idea he thought this search was.

Deirdre cut him off. “Either tell him what you know, Cade, or don’t. It’s up to you. I intend to get to the bottom of this with or without your help.”

“I’m sure you’ll run it down to the bitter end no matter who gets caught in the cross fire,” Cade said.

“The Captain knows I’m not his daughter. So does Emma, thanks to your sending her over to the house to babysit me when I opened the hope chest yesterday. And Mom’s dead. There’s no one left to protect.”

“There’s a sick old man over at the cabin and he’s tearing himself up inside over this—”

“Over Mom’s affair. His sullied honor.” Deirdre kept her gaze carefully away from Stone. “Truth to tell, he’s probably relieved to know he doesn’t have to take any responsibility for my screw-ups anymore. He’s got the perfect out—”

“You don’t believe that,” Cade insisted.

“Don’t I?” She struggled to push down a lifetime of insecurity, hide her raw, secret places from Stone. But the words spilled out, in spite of her efforts. “If the Captain loves me so much, why didn’t he tell me so? Right then and there, in front of you and Finn? Why didn’t he say the stuff in that letter didn’t change anything?”

“God, Dee, you should have seen your face! If you had, you’d know why he acted the way he did!”

“What would you have done, Cade? If you had found out something horrendous like this about Amy or Will?”

Cade scowled. “How would I know?”

“You’d do the same thing you did when Finn was trying to be noble and call off your wedding. You’d dig in your heels and wouldn’t leave until you’d pounded the fact that you loved them into their heads. You’d tell them to hell with what that letter said. You’re their father.”

“The Captain is your father. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, damn it.”

“That’s right,” Deirdre said, excruciatingly aware of Stone watching them, weighing them, unraveling far more than the words should have revealed. “That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me. The Captain just turned and walked away.”

Cade looked like she’d punched him in the gut. She could see him scramble for excuses. “Dee, Dad is an old man. A proud one. And, damn it, he’s in so much pain he can’t even walk up the stairs to go to the bathroom. He’s feeling weaker than he’s ever been in his life. And you hit him with the fact that even when he was at his strongest, his most invincible, it was all an illusion.”

“Guess even Superman had to deal with kryptonite.” She tried so hard to sound flippant. Instead she sounded cruel. And hated it. But she’d hate breaking down in tears far more, especially with Stone’s laser beam attention focused on her. Was he trying to judge what she’d say? she wondered. Or trying to figure out what she couldn’t put into words.

“Mom lied to Dad, Dee. Can you imagine how much that must hurt?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I don’t have to imagine anything at all when it comes to being lied to by the person you trusted most in the whole world.” She glared at Cade, saw his face twist with pain. Direct hit. Score one for her side.

Cade’s voice roughened. “Mom carried another man’s child. And you’re practically rolling out a banner to announce Dad’s humiliation to the whole world?”

“That’s right! I’m supposed to be interviewed on the news at noon.”

“Damn it, you don’t think this is a joke, no matter what you’re saying. You know how painful this is, and how damaging. Not only do you throw the past in Dad’s face, but you outright reject him right there in front of Finn and me.”

“I rejected him?” Deirdre snorted, incredulous. “In case you failed to notice, I’m not the one who walked out of that room yesterday.”

“Hell, no. You didn’t have to. It was perfectly clear you had already made up your mind to track down this other guy before you set foot in the cabin.”

“Mr. McDaniel,” Stone cut in smoothly, “arguing about what happened yesterday isn’t going to get us anywhere. Deirdre’s made it clear she intends to pursue this matter. Perhaps we can agree the least painful way to settle things for all concerned is to get to the bottom of this as expediently as possible. With time—”

“My father is seventy-six and can’t even walk up stairs,” Cade snapped. “Just how much time do you think he has?”

Something like empathy sparked for a fleeting moment in Stone’s hooded eyes. “Whatever time is left, we’re wasting it right now.”

Cade paced across to the sink, leaned against the white porcelain, glaring intently out the window. Deirdre stared at his profile, catching sight of a glint of moisture at the corner of her brother’s eye. “What do you want from me?”

“Deirdre says you’re the only person Mrs. McDaniel spoke to about her relationship with the birth father. Is that true?”

“As far as I know. I hardly think she discussed it with the wives down at the officers’ club.”

“It’s not something I’d imagine you’d discuss with your son, either,” Stone observed. “So how did you come to know about Deirdre’s parentage?”

Cade’s features darkened. “There was an accident. The doctors thought Deirdre might need a kidney transplant. I overheard the doctor telling Mom that our father was not a compatible donor. It was biologically impossible that Deirdre was his child.”

“Your father wasn’t there to get the doctor’s report?” Stone didn’t manage to mask disapproval.

“No. He was gone.”

Deirdre figured Cade must have sensed some kind of censure in Stone. Cade’s temper sparked. “Dad was feeding Dee’s dog. Dad and Spot had this kind of love/hate relationship. But the old man knew the first thing out of Dee’s mouth when she regained consciousness would be asking after that damned dog. He wanted to show her he hadn’t forgotten.”

Deirdre winced.

Cade turned to Deirdre, gaze fiercely intense. “Don’t you call that love, Dee? He was worried sick, wanted to stay at the hospital, hear the first word when the doc reported in. But he knew what mattered most to you. He tried to—to put your mind at ease.”

She didn’t dare show the effect his words had had on her, or Cade would hammer her forever, hoping he could make her call this whole search off. She could handle Cade furious. But pleading, sorrowful, hurting…those were a more dangerous approach.

Deirdre tossed her head. “It’s more likely he just couldn’t stand to deviate from the schedule,” she said. “Feed dog at 0800 hours.”

Cade swore.

Stone cleared his throat and continued. “So you and your mother were alone in the waiting room, Mr. McDaniel. The doctor walks in and reveals something this explosive in front of you?”

“They both thought I was asleep. Even so, the doctor asked Mom to step out of the waiting room into the hall. But I could tell from the man’s voice something had gone horribly wrong. I…thought my sister was dead.”

Deirdre had to clench her hands into fists to keep from reaching out to Cade, touching him. The breach yawned between them, so painful it hurt to breathe. She could see Cade there, at the hospital, his body not yet filled out with a man’s muscles, his face still boyish, the scar on his chin still new. He must have been devastated, feeling responsible for anything that went wrong in the family, the way he always did. She could almost hear the litany of self-blame running through his head.

I should have foreseen she was going to fall, stopped her from being so reckless.

I should have hurled myself on the open toolbox so she wouldn’t have hit the sharp metal edges when she fell.

He’d thought she was dead. He must have been going through hell. It should have been over once the doctor said she’d live, but he’d only exchanged one level of hell for an even deeper one.

Cade blew out a steadying breath. “Mom begged the doctor not to tell our father unless it was a question of saving Deirdre’s life. She prayed Deirdre would recover without needing that kidney. Deirdre did. Mom made me promise I would never tell. I never did.”

“So, that’s the Cliff’s Notes version,” Stone said. “Think you can add anything more?”

“Cade, for God’s sake! I know you’re doing this under duress, okay? Your objection has been duly noted and thrown in the circular file. Now tell the man something useful or stop wasting his time.”

“This isn’t easy, Dee. I don’t want my family hurt.”

“Oh, yeah, and I’m just loving this. It’s so much fun,” Deirdre snapped.

“Mom said she’d had an affair with a man named Jimmy Rivermont. He was selling band instruments in the area, or something. She would leave me with another army wife while she…” Cade shrugged. “I don’t know the woman’s name. She lived next door to our parents.”

“In military housing?”

“Yes.”

“Where were they stationed?” Stone asked.

“Fort Benning, Georgia. Must have been, what? Thirty-three years ago.”

“Did this friend of your mother’s have a name?” Stone probed.

“I sure as hell never asked what it was.”

Deirdre tried to sound confident. “The Captain would know who Mom’s friends on base were, wouldn’t he?”

“You can’t ask him that!” Cade raged. “For God’s sake, Dee!”

“We’ll try other avenues first,” Stone said. “I promise you, Mr. McDaniel, I’ll try to make this inquiry as painless as possible for you and your family.”

“I’d be…grateful. Anyway, I’m out of here. I’ve told you all I know.” Cade’s jaw tipped up at that angle that always made Deirdre want to take a swing at it. “Except that Deirdre already has a father who loves her.”

“Damn it, Cade!”

“I know,” Stone said. “I mentioned that myself.”

Cade stalked to the door. Stopped. “I just have to say this one last time, then I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“Yeah, right!” Deirdre scoffed, turning her back on him and bracing herself against the counter.

“Don’t do this, Dee.”

“It’s already done.”