Читать книгу Branded by a Callahan - Tina Leonard - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Ana was going to kill him. Plain and simple, and hardly lifting a finger to do it, Ana St. John was going to give Dante cardiac arrest at the ripe old age of nearly twenty-eight.

Either she was deliberately trying to seduce him, or he just couldn’t think about anything but sex around her. Yet it wasn’t just sex, though he wished it was. He was crazy about this woman, had been for months.

She talked about wanting his child, but he knew she just had baby overload. Ana had spent too much time around Sloan and Kendall’s adorable twins, and naturally—quite naturally, in his opinion—she had decided that a baby was what she wanted, too. A child of her own.

The thing was, she’d settled on him—and granted, he was stocked full of testosterone-charged, baby-making potential—but he really wasn’t in a position to simply scatter his seed to the wind and then have his little baby mama disappear.

No. He needed some commitment, a relationship, yes, a marriage, before any of his swimmers could be set free to do their wondrous thing. Yet he was not a marrying man...at least, he’d never thought much about it. Hadn’t thought about it at all. Ever. Dante sat in the back of Ash’s truck, and Ana sat up front, chatting away with his sister, who’d come to their rescue after he’d finally surrendered and realized he had to call for backup.

He’d had no other option, though he believed it would be safer for his family if he and Ana stayed undercover for a while longer. But he could not spend a night in a bed with Ana and not fall into hot, sweet temptation. He was only so much man where she was concerned, and he had to draw a line between him and her that he wouldn’t cross.

“Don’t you think, Dante?”

His sister’s voice jerked him from studying the slope of Ana’s shoulder as she sat in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of his heated admiration of her. Ashlyn’s gaze settled on his in the rearview mirror, and he was pretty certain his sister was laughing at him.

“Think what?” he demanded a bit crossly.

“Think that this is all related. Those troublemakers that grabbed you guys are the same ones who did this before. It has to be linked.”

He nodded. “Stands to reason.”

“Then we go find your uncle Wolf and tell him that enough is enough,” Ana said. “No doubt Dante will enjoy beating him to a pulp.”

“Uh—” Dante blinked, considered how macho he needed to appear. “We actually don’t believe in beating our uncle to a pulp. Well, actually, we might, but Running Bear says no.”

“Oh. So you’re using your wits instead of weapons. I admire that.” Ana turned around to look at him, and he felt himself appreciating for the thousandth time her sexy green eyes. Kind of an emerald tone, a bright forest green overlaid with honey, and he—

“Dante,” Ashlyn said, interrupting his heated thoughts, and Ana turned back around. “When’s the last time you heard from Tighe?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t figure he’d thought much about his twin since he’d been in Ana’s radius. “We’re not joined at the hip.”

“That’s news to me,” Ash said.

“Old news,” Dante said. “Tighe’s like a cat. He’ll come home when he’s ready.”

“But it’s not like him not to check in,” Ashlyn pressed, and Dante finally caught his sister’s underlying message.

“You think something’s happened to him?”

“We don’t know what to think. Tighe can be hardheaded, and with you not traveling with him to be the communicator—”

He scowled at his sister’s reflection. “Tighe has a mouth that works perfectly fine. I wasn’t always the communicator.”

“Yes, you were,” Ashlyn insisted. “It was always you who kept in touch with the family. We always called Tighe The Silent One. In fact, Galen calls him Silent-but-deadly, and he swears it’s because of his work in the military, but it’s still rude and I let him know it.”

Dante could hear Ana giggling in the front seat. “So was I Not-silent-and-not-deadly?”

“We just called you Oprah,” Ash said cheerfully. “We could always count on you to have something to talk about.”

Well, wasn’t it just nice for his sister to air all his dirty laundry in front of the woman he was dying to impress? The woman who now knew that not only was he not a fighter, a tough guy, but he was considered a hen by his family? “Thanks, I think,” he said, and Ana and Ash dissolved in giggles.

He wondered if Ana would rescind her offer to have his child now that his sister had so nicely illustrated the family’s views of him. Jace had certainly thrown himself at the nanny bodyguards, but they’d seemed to treat him as everybody’s favorite beta-male brother, fun and nonthreatening. “Yes, I’m going to share my new recipe for blackberry pie and drop-stitch knitting tips I got from Mrs. Adams with Aunt Fiona as soon as I get home.”

“Oh, don’t get your feelings hurt, brother. We love you, you know,” Ash said.

“I’m fine. I really got a recipe from Mrs. Adams, and she shared some knitting tips.” He smiled, not caring if he did sound too sweet to be a retired SEAL.

Ana turned to look at him. “Her blackberry pie was excellent.”

He nodded. “It sure was.”

“How did you get clothes for me, and a great recipe and knitting tips out of her?” Ana asked, and he shrugged.

“Dante’s a chatterer,” Ash chimed in. “He can talk the ears off a rabbit.”

“I told you,” he said, ignoring his sister. “She liked me. I think she really wants me to come back and check out her daughter.”

The smile slipped off Ana’s face. “I thought you were just bragging.”

“No.” He shook his head. “She’s a really nice lady, too. I like older ladies. She reminded me of Aunt Fiona. You can learn a lot from sitting around listening to folks who have more than six decades on them.”

“You certainly seemed to learn a lot about her daughter,” Ana said.

“Not too much. She’s twenty-seven, can cook like a dream, has a goddess body, and Mrs. Adams swears she’s not exaggerating, and won a pageant of some kind. I can’t remember which one,” he said, thinking hard. Pageants weren’t something he’d had a whole lot of familiarity with. Ash wasn’t the type who’d ever enter a pageant. She probably wouldn’t score very well—too ornery.

“Mrs. Adams was fishing for you to ask out her daughter while you were with me?” Ana demanded.

He shrugged. “I told her you were my sister.”

Ashlyn laughed out loud.

Ana frowned. “I thought she said that you were to come back and meet her daughter if I ever kicked you to the curb.”

“She didn’t really say that. I was just trying to get your goat.”

“You’re getting my goat now,” Ana said, and he could hear Ashlyn snickering.

There. That was better. The spotlight was off him. He liked it better when his little doll was worried about him going off with a pageant winner with a mother who made melt-in-your-mouth blackberry pie. “It probably is time to hunt up Uncle Wolf and explain to him that we don’t want to hear a peep out of him over the holidays,” he told Ashlyn. “Or we’ll bury him in a canyon with only a cactus to mark the spot.”

“I thought you were a pacifist,” Ana said, and Ashlyn shook her head.

“Be careful, Ana,” Ashlyn told her, “my brother is a spirit that moves on emotion.”

“That’s right,” Dante said. “How far are we from Hell’s Colony, Ash?”

“About thirty minutes. Why?”

“Because we’re being followed. Don’t turn around. Don’t speed up.”

“How do you know?” Ana asked.

“I can see the truck we were tossed in. Look in your side mirror, Ana.”

“He’s right, isn’t he?” Ashlyn said. “He’s always right. It’s like he has a freaky sixth and seventh sense combined.”

“He is right,” Ana confirmed. “I hadn’t noticed.” She sounded depressed about her lax bodyguard skills.

“What’s the plan, brother?” Ash asked.

“You’re going to bypass the road to Hell’s Colony. We’ll head toward Rancho Diablo instead. How much gas do we have?”

“Half a tank.”

“Should be good enough to get us to the border.” He reached up to rub Ana’s shoulders. “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”

“Yes,” Ana said, “but I should have seen it first.”

He grinned. “You girls were too busy chatting to be looking out for such things as rogues and rascals.”

“Here it comes,” Ash said, “the crowing of the man who wants applause.”

Dante leaned back, completely satisfied that he was the hero once again, and not the hen. Well, sometimes the hen, but mostly the hero. “They’re following us,” he said, “because I left them a note with Mrs. Adams. I had a feeling they’d show up there.”

“What are you talking about?” Ana demanded, turning to stare at him, outrage lighting up those fascinating peepers he loved to admire. “Why would you do that?”

“I like to keep my enemy close,” Dante said. “Makes every day a bit more exciting.”

Ana looked at Ash. “Has he always been insane?”

“Yes,” Ash said, “certifiably. I did try to warn you. Now my brother Jace is more of a Steady-Eddy. If that appeals to you.”

He grinned at Ana. “In the grand scheme of things, you’d probably prefer excitement to predictable, beautiful.”

Ana looked so annoyed he couldn’t help laughing. He was so tempted to lean up and give her a hot kiss right on those heart-shaped lips, but the window shattered behind his head, and Dante yelled, “Down!”

“I don’t need this much excitement,” Ana said from the floorboard, checking the firearm Ash shoved at her from the glove box.

Dante slapped a clip into the gun he grabbed. “I read that women get pregnant more easily when they’ve been under stress.”

“Who told that lie?” Ash demanded, jacking the truck up to about eighty miles an hour. “And who’s getting pregnant?”

“No one,” Ana said. “I had a momentary lapse in judgment.” She glared at Dante before she fired a shot out the back window. A tire blew on the truck, and it veered off the road. A few bullets sprayed after them, but they were too far away for anything to hit.

“Nice,” Dante said. “I like a woman who can shoot straight.”

Ana looked at him, locked the gun and stored it away again. “Well, I prefer a man who isn’t crazy.”

“Ah, an impasse,” Ashlyn said. “I’m so glad love hasn’t come my way yet.”

“No, you’re not,” Dante said, and Ana said, “Who said anything about love?”

He grinned at her. “You know you want me. And I want you. We don’t have to bring up love just yet.”

“It won’t matter.” Ana turned back around. “You’re free to stay in the wild.”

She was miffed. He smiled. That was all right. She’d only stay miffed until he kissed her, and then his little baby-seeking darling would be only too happy to let him charm his way into her bed.

Guaranteed.

* * *

DANTE WAS CRAZY. Ashlyn had tried to warn her in the beginning, but blinded by—well, lust didn’t sound quite appropriate but definitely desire—what a sexy devil he was, and her hope to have a baby, she’d ignored his sister’s warnings.

Now that she’d learned just how wild ’n’ woolly Dante was, she realized the error of her ways. Such genes could only lead to her having a wild child of her own, and nothing good could come of that.

She went to the kitchen at Rancho Diablo and found Fiona frowning at a cookbook. Fiona looked up with a smile when she saw Ana.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Fiona said pleasantly, snapping the cookbook closed. “And right in time to give me a break from trying to raise a Yorkshire pudding.”

“Raise a Yorkshire pudding?” Ana glanced over the assembled pots and pans Fiona had scattered around her kitchen. “I don’t know what that is.”

“I’m determined to have Yorkshire pudding for Thanksgiving. A roast with carrots and potatoes on the side, and an onion,” Fiona said, hustling her up the stairs. “But it takes the right touch to raise a pudding properly, and my concentration is shot these days. This will help.” She smiled as Ana followed her to a closet in the attic. The attic was a huge room, more of a well-loved storage area and extra living space if needed. There were shelves on practically every wall. Plump cushions sat on window seats. “Now,” Fiona said, sitting down, “what’s this I hear about you setting your cap for my nephew?”

Fiona tapped a velvet-cushioned seat and Ana reluctantly joined her. “I set my cap, but now it’s unset. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, now.” Fiona gave her a knowing smile. “A girl doesn’t unset her cap that quickly. Does she?”

“She does if the man in question is too much of a—”

Fiona smiled. “Gentleman?”

How could she tell this kindly soul that her nephew was a devil with an incurable wild streak? “I was thinking perhaps of a different word.”

“I know.” Fiona nodded. “A sweetheart. You feel like you’re taking advantage of him.” She patted her hand. “Dante is such a good boy. He’d make a fine husband, Ana. Don’t feel bad about setting the female trap to catch him. Men really love to be caught, even though they claim they don’t.”

“Oh, dear.” Ana hardly knew what to say. How to explain that since she’d been back to Rancho Diablo—they’d arrived late last night, and Dante had told his brothers of their highway adventure with no great sense of shame for luring their kidnappers right back to them, a story his brothers had enjoyed with great back-thumping and cocky admiration—she realized she’d made a mistake? “Here’s the thing, Fiona. Dante’s just not my type.”

“Not your type?” Fiona looked stunned. “But River says he’s been your type for over a year!”

Ana felt a little blush warm her face for the fib. She wasn’t about to say that had been all sexual attraction. “Two days in a truck with him changed my mind.”

Fiona sniffed. “Ana, don’t be scared of how much you care for my nephew. I know you’re trying to protect yourself, but he really does have a heart of gold.”

And the soul of a wild man. “I’m not looking for a husband. I just wanted a child of my own.”

Silence stretched between them for a second. “Dante will never settle for less than marriage, I feel certain, if a child is involved.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Secretly, she wouldn’t mind a wedding ring from that hunk. Yet with his reputation for staying wild and free, she wasn’t allotting any dreams for marriage.

“So, it’s not that my boy is too much of a rascal for you, it’s that you’re too gidgety for him. That’s a first, I must say.” Fiona rose, paced around the attic for a moment, then stopped and peered at Ana. “You don’t seem like a gidget to me.”

“I don’t know what a gidget is,” Ana said.

“A flighty girl. One who blows around at every wind.” Fiona sighed. “There’s only one way to know if Dante’s the man of your heart or not.”

“He’s not,” Ana assured her. “I mean, I’m not the right woman for him.”

“Pooh. You’d hate to throw away your soul mate just because you’ve got cold feet.” She smiled, her face gentle yet determined. “Now let’s just pop you into this dress and see what happens.” She opened a massive door, in which hung all kinds of plastic-wrapped clothes, and pulled out a white wedding gown.

Ana had heard all about the magic wedding dress. There was no way on the planet she was putting that thing on. She didn’t believe in charms or superstitions, but Callahan legend was thick around this place. “I better not, Fiona. I’m not looking for a husband.”

“Nonsense! Every woman wants a husband.” Fiona looked as if Ana had sprouted an extra head. “And especially a handsome devil like my nephew.”

“I don’t think—” Ana began, as Fiona dragged the gown from its sparkling wrapping. “I mean—”

“Now, then,” Fiona said, hanging the dress in front of a cheval mirror. “You go right ahead. Take your time.” She smiled. “I’m going to get back to my Yorkshire pudding.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Ana was a bit cowed by the gown. No way was she putting it on—what if it was magic? What if she saw herself in it and decided she wanted to become a bride? Get married?

No. It was all about the baby. When a woman only had one ovary, she didn’t have the luxury of wasting her chances on marriage first, then wishing for a pregnancy. “I don’t think I—”

“That’s just the thing,” Fiona said. “You won’t have to think. Once you put it on, you’ll know for certain.”

“Know what for certain?”

“Who your dream man is.” Fiona smiled at her, a benign and yet somehow cagey fairy godmother with a lacy lure. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“I suppose—”

“You wouldn’t risk throwing Dante back into the dating pool if he was your prince. Of course, you’ll be terribly disappointed if he isn’t your prince, I know,” Fiona said, her tone sympathetic and sorrowful for Ana’s pain in that circumstance, “but at least you’d know, right?”

Ana glanced at the gown, worried. It was a beautiful thing, and the Callahan brides she’d seen wear it had been stunning. Of course it was all Fiona’s storytelling, there was no such thing as magic. Just Fiona trying to up her matchmaking score by one more victim.

“In the Irish we say, an t-adh leat. Good luck, dear. And don’t forget the reason the gown is magic—you will see the face of the man you love, the prince who’s the true destiny of your heart. Or at least that’s what the Callahan girls have all said, each and every one.”

Humming, Fiona went down the stairs. Ana closed her eyes for a moment, debating. It was so silly. The game was to get her in the gown—and probably any wedding dress would do—so she’d start frothing at the mouth to rush to the altar. “I won’t fall for it. I can put that on and feel nothing. It’s just yards and yards of beautiful white lace and whatever else wedding gown dreams are spun from. No different from a bedsheet or...or a tablecloth. Just white fabric.”

She’d been in love with Dante for a long time, though she barely admitted it to herself. She was just careful, that was all, and a careful woman made certain that she chose the right man to father her child.

She could afford no mistakes. Natural caution was what made her an excellent bodyguard. There was still time to back away from the situation if Dante wasn’t the man who could make her dreams come true. “In love” wasn’t final, it wasn’t endless—not yet, not while she could still hold back from falling all the way.

Yet there was a bigger worry, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to: if Fiona was right—the story was crazy but Fiona was known to be uncannily right on many matters—what if the man who appeared to her wasn’t Dante?

Maybe it was better not to know if Dante wasn’t her dream man.

It would be awful to be in love with a man who wasn’t Mr. Right. On the other hand, did she want to know Dante was the man meant to make a magical future with her? Shouldn’t that be the surprise that came on secret dreams to both of them?

It almost felt like Dante was defenseless in the face of her participation in Fiona’s scheme.

“Pooh,” she murmured, “I doubt I see any man at all. Fiona’s got more stories than a fortune-teller at the state fair.”

Soft, tinkling music reached her ears. She glanced around, wondering if Fiona was piping music up to her to set the mood. “Fiona, I’m not buying your fairy godmother shtick.”

The music was pretty, so lilting and spellbinding that Ana finally smiled. Okay, so perhaps Fiona was using all her props to close the deal. It would be fun to try the gown on and throw cold water on the whole tale of magic nonsense.

Fascinated in spite of herself, Ana touched the wedding dress, her heart suddenly beating very fast. Shimmying out of her jeans and top, she stepped into the infamous magic wedding dress that had led so many Callahan brides to their fairy-tale endings.