Envious

by Lisa Jackson

“The debt. It’s been taken care of.”

  “How?”

  “My father’s had a change of heart,” he said, still shredding the documents and letting the small confetti-like pieces fall to the floor.

  “You paid him.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You didn’t have to, you know. I would have taken care of it” She should have been offended but found the gesture somehow comforting. Maybe their relationship wasn’t for naught “I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I said I’ll pay you.”

  “Drop it, Tiffany. You and the kids, you’re part of the family.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Jay. It belittles us both. I never have nor will I ever be part of the Santini clan. That was your father’s choice. Not mine.”

  His jaw worked. “I said, things have changed.”

  She didn’t believe him, but changed the subject to the worry that had been gnawing at her for the past hour. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “In the morning.”

  “Nice, Jay.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. How would she live without him? These past few weeks had been glorious torments, a kind of bittersweet pleasure that she would miss. As she would miss him. She looked at him and wondered if she’d ever be blessed with his smile again, ever feel his lips on hers, ever quiver at his touch. Oh. foolish, foolish woman. Pull yourself together. He doesn’t care about you. Never has. Never will. Your love for him is a joke.

  “And when were you going to tell me about the deed?” she demanded, chasing away her painful thought of love or the lack of it. “Or were you going to wait until Carlo decided to evict me?”

  “That’s not happening.” He was firm.

  “Isn’t it? Then why all the secrecy? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she demanded, walking closer to him, stopping only when the toes of her sandals brushed the tips of his boots.

  His jaw slid to the side and he stared at her with an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. “Why?” he countered. “You want the truth?”

  “Absolutely.”

  His mouth tightened at the corners and his eyes took on the color of midnight “Because, lady, from the moment I set my eyes on you again, I knew that I was lost.”

  “‘Lost’?” What was he saying? The room was suddenly hot. Way too hot.

  “That’s right, Tiffany.” He pushed his head forward, bending so that his nose was a hair’s breadth from hers, so close that his clean male scent enveloped her. “The second you climbed out of your car the first day I was here, it was all over for me.”

  “I—I don’t understand.”

  “I’m trying to tell you that I fell in love with you, dammit.”

  “In love with me?” Could she believe it? No way. Her insipid heart took flight.

  “That’s right.”

  For a heartbeat there was silence. Hot, condemning silence. She swallowed hard. Love? J.D. loved her?

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  He straightened and a look of weary defeat gathered in his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything, Tiff.” Shaking his head he started past her, but she reached out and grabbed the crook of his elbow.

  “Wait.”

  Beneath her fingers, his muscles tensed. He looked at her over one muscular shoulder with eyes that reflected a pain that tore at his very soul. “For what?”

  “Me,” she whispered, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. “Wait for me.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “I love you, too, Jay.” Tears spilled over at the admission. “I . . . I have for a long, long time.”

  For a second he didn’t move and then his eyes flew open, he grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips. Her arms wound around his neck and his circled her waist. They clung to each other as if they’d been separated for years, star-crossed lovers who had at last rediscovered each other.

  When finally his head lifted from hers, he cracked a smile. “So?”

  “So marry me, Santini,” she said with a low chuckle. “Make an honest woman of me.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

  Tossing her head back, she giggled. “Try me.”

  “All right. You’re on. We’ll drive to Portland tomorrow, find a justice of the peace and be married in the afternoon.”

  “No way. I did the quickie marriage before. This time we’re going all out. My son’s going to give me away. My daughter’s going to be the flower girl and my sisters . . .” She surprised herself. “My sisters will be there.”

  “What about your father?”

  A cloud crossed Tiffany’s mind and her heart squeezed in the same painful manner it had for all of her lonely life, but she decided it was time for a new beginning. Time to bury all her pain. “He’ll be invited. To be a guest, nothing more. If he shows up, fine .”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “His loss.”

  J.D. placed a kiss on her forehead. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  “As sure as of anything I’ve ever done.”

  “We still could lose the house. Dad might not approve.”

  “Then we’ll move, won’t we?” She felt lightheaded, freed of the blackness that had shrouded her for so long. “But what about your job?”

  “Already quit.” He regarded her with twinkling eyes. “You know, I think there’re some ambulances down here just dying to be chased.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Besides which, I’m not destitute, you know.”

  “No?”

  “No. But we do have one more obstacle to overcome.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to adopt the kids.”

  “But you’re already their uncle.”

  “I know.” A dimple showed in his cheek. “But when they’re ready, I want them to think of me as their father.”

  “Do you think that’ll happen?” she asked skeptically.

  He twirled her off her feet. “Haven’t I been telling you all along that anything’s possible?”

  “That you have, J.D.,” she admitted.

  “Then, for once, Tiff, trust me.”

  “I do,” she promised, and he kissed her as if he would never stop.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later Tiffany twirled in front of the mirror. The blue silk dress swirled around her like a cloud. “It’s beautiful,” she said, turning to face her half-sisters.

  “Yep. Looks great.” Katie, dressed in an identical gown, agreed.

  “Good.” Bliss flopped into a chair at the dressmaker’s shop where she had ordered not only her wedding dress but the two bridesmaid’s gowns, as well.

  Tiffany felt a sense of family. She and J.D. were going to marry, her half-sisters and she were discovering each other, and her kids, finally, had settled down. Under J.D.’s influence, Stephen seemed to be trying to walk the straight and narrow and Christina was on cloud nine.

  “Okay,” Bliss said, “let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you both a soda.”

  “I think we deserve gin and tonics after this ordeal,” Katie teased as she peeled off her dress and handed it, along with the marked hem to Betty, the shop owner.

  “Well, how about a glass of Chablis instead?”

  “You’re on!”

  They changed and walked outside where the afternoon sun was glistening overhead. The streets of Bittersweet were shaded on this edge of town, the traffic slow.

  “I can’t believe that both of you are getting married,” Katie said with a sigh as they walked to Bliss’s Mustang convertible which was parked in the shade of a giant oak tree. The top was down and Bliss’s dog, Oscar, a golden mutt of about twenty pounds, gave out an excited yip and, at Bliss’s command, hopped into the back seat.

  “You’ll be next,” Bliss predicted as she slid behind the wheel. Katie climbed into the back and petted the dog while Tiffany took her place in the passenger seat.

/>   “No way. I’ve got too much to do before I get married.”

  “Such as?” With a flick of her wrist Bliss turned on the ignition. The sporty car roared to life.

  “Such as finding out the story behind Ray Dean and Isaac Wells.”

  “Can’t you leave it to the police?” Tiffany asked as Bliss pulled out of the parking lot.

  “And miss the scoop of a lifetime? No way.”

  Wind breezed through their hair as they drove. Tiffany leaned back and smiled. Life was definitely improving.

  “So, what’ve you learned about your newest tenant?” Katie asked.

  “Luke? Not much. He keeps to himself.”

  “I wonder why?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Tiffany asked.

  “I just might.” Katie laughed, the sound tinkling and light over the growl of the engine, and Tiffany smiled as her house came into view. In a grand gesture, as an early wedding gift, her father-in-law had given her the title to the house. He had refused payment from J.D. and was desperately trying to wheedle his son back into the Santini Brothers fold. But J.D. was determined to hang his shingle in Bittersweet.

  “Mommy!” Christina flew out the front door as Bliss pulled into the drive. J.D. was on her heels. His limp had all but disappeared, and his eyes glittered mischievously. Oscar hopped out of the car and washed the little girl’s face with his long tongue. Christina giggled with delight.

  As Tiffany climbed from her seat, J.D. held the door open for her. “Glad you’re home.”

  “Are you? Gee, and I thought you loved baby-sitting,” she teased.

  “I do.”

  At that moment Luke Gates’s dilapidated pickup pulled into the drive. He parked and slowly stretched his way out of the cab. “Here’s your chance,” Bliss said to Katie in a stage whisper, and the younger woman grinned widely.

  “You’re right.” She climbed out of the car. “You know me,” Katie said, straightening. “I’m not one to pass up an opportunity.”

  “What’s this all about?” J.D. asked.

  “It’s a long story.” Tiffany smiled as J.D. wrapped his arms around her and Katie crossed the lawn toward the tall Texan. “But don’t be surprised if you read about it in the Review.”

  “Uh-oh. Katie’s on to a hot story,” J.D. guessed.

  “She only hopes,” Bliss said and Tiffany sighed contentedly, glad to be a part of this scattered, but loving, family.

  Someday she might even forgive her father.

  Someday.

  For now, her focus was on loving J.D.

  A FAMILY KIND OF WEDDING

  Chapter One

  “I’m countin’ on you, boy. Now that Dave’s gone, all his mother and me got left is the thought that he might have left himself a son or daughter. Don’t know if it’s true, you know, but he mentioned something about it the last time we spoke to him.” The old man’s voice cracked. “You let me know, hear?”

  “Will do,” Luke Gates promised, cursing himself as he slammed the phone down. How had he gotten himself roped into this mess? Sweat ran down his back, and the sweltering heat of the September day seemed worse in the confines of this tiny top-floor apartment of an old carriage house in southern Oregon.

  In Luke’s estimation, Ralph Sorenson should do his own damned dirty work. What the hell was Luke doing, getting caught up in an old man’s hopes and dreams that were bound to cause nothing but heartache and pain? So the old man thought he had a grandson. So he hoped that Luke would find the kid. So he was going to pay him to do it. Big deal.

  But it was. When it came to money, Luke had been born with a weakness, a hunger for it. Having grown up dirt-poor, tossed around from one aunt to another, constantly reminded that he was “another mouth to feed” and that he must “earn his own keep” had only fostered his drive and need to chase after the almighty greenback.

  But this job might be too much.

  Ralph was pushing. Too hard. But then, the old man was desperate.

  Luke’s stomach curdled as he thought of the heavy-bodied man who had helped turn him from a hellion into a decent-enough businessman. Luke had never known his own father, and Ralph was the closest thing he now had to family. He supposed, under the circumstances, the reverse was true, as well.

  But still, the thought of dragging forgotten skeletons out of closets and digging up innocent people’s lives didn’t appeal to him.

  Not so innocent, he reminded himself.

  Ralph Sorenson deserved to know his own flesh and blood. Who cared if it fouled up some woman’s life? And besides, there was a pile of money involved.

  Telling himself it didn’t matter what he thought, Luke yanked on his favorite pair of boots and headed outside. Pausing on the upper landing of the staircase, he felt the impact of the late afternoon. The air was as dry as a west Texas wind and the September sun merciless. Just the way he liked it.

  Sliding his key ring from his pocket, he hurried down the flight of stairs and strode across the patchy dry lawn to a spot of concrete by the garage where his pickup leaked a little oil. He’d lived here for a couple of weeks and planned to stay until he could make the old ranch house livable. It would take a little doing, even by his spartan standards.

  A crow cawed angrily from an eave of the main house, a massive Victorian complete with gables, shutters and gingerbread trim. The turn-of-the-century home had been divided up some years back and now had several apartment units ensconced within its century-old walls.

  He heard the sound of tires on gravel. A convertible, belching blue exhaust, the engine knocking out of synch, careened into the drive. The driver, a red-haired woman he’d caught glimpses of before, stepped on the brakes. She was out of the car before it stopped rolling.

  “Hi!” She waved.

  What was her name? Katie Something-or-other, he thought—a relative, maybe a sister, of Tiffany Santini, the widow who was his landlady.

  Katie strode toward him with an air of confidence he found refreshing. A mite of a thing with fiery red hair, a sprinkling of freckles over a pert little nose and a pixie-ish jaw, she didn’t dally. Sunglasses covered her eyes. “You’re Luke Gates, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around here and I always wanted to introduce myself.” She flashed him a smile that wouldn’t quit, the kind of thousand-watt grin that beautiful women used to get what they wanted. Her hand was already outstretched as she marched up to him. “I’m Katie Kinkaid, Tiffany’s sister—well, half-sister really.” Her teeth were a set of pearls that were straight enough except for a small, sexy overlap in the front two and her face was flushed, as if she’d been running. He could do nothing but accept the small hand that was jabbed his way.

  “Glad to meet you,” he drawled, though he wasn’t really sure. Katie struck him as the kind of woman who could steamroll right over a man even though she was only a couple of inches over five feet.

  “Me, too.” She shook his hand crisply, then let it drop. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen my son around here, have ya? He’s ten going on sixteen, got reddish-brown hair and is about yea tall.” She gestured with the flat of one hand to the height of her opposite shoulder. “He’s usually moving about a billion miles a minute and he’s been spending a lot of time hanging out here with Stephen in the last day or two.”

  Luke knew the kid she meant. A gangly kid always on the go. “I think I’ve seen him,” Luke allowed with a flick of his gaze toward the back porch. “But not today.”

  “Hmm.” She shoved her bangs from her eyes and the scent of some flowery perfume teased at his nostrils. “Tiffany said something about taking the kids out to the farm—you know, the old Zalinski place that Santini Brothers Enterprises bought for their latest vineyard and winery. They probably just haven’t gotten back yet.” She slid her sunglasses off her nose and chewed on one bow as she squinted down the length of the driveway. “I guess I’ll just have to wait.” Pausing for a second, she turned her attention back to Luke. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask ever since I first saw you, what bri
ngs you to Bittersweet?”

  “Business.”

  She was a pushy little thing. She gave him the once-over, a swift glance up and down his body, and her expression said it all. In faded jeans, a T-shirt and his scruffy boots, he didn’t look like the typical three-piece-suit-and-tie businessman. But then this was Bittersweet, Oregon, not New York City or L.A.

  “What kind of business?”

  He had to get the word out sooner or later. Though he was going to do a little bit of detective work for Ralph, that was only part of his reason for hanging around. The ranch was his real purpose and now that the sale of the property was a done deal, he saw no reason to keep it to himself anymore. “I bought a spread a few miles outside of town and I’m hoping to convert it into a working dude ranch.”

  Her eyebrows arched up as she slid her shades onto the bridge of her nose again. “You mean for tourists to come down here and round up wild horses, and brand cattle, and, well, do all that macho outdoorsy cowboy thing—kind of like the movie City Slickers?”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Not that elaborate, but, yeah, that’s the general idea.” There was a whole lot more to it than that, but he didn’t see any reason to fill her in—or anyone else, for that matter—with the details. Not just yet. Until he was sure of them himself. Besides, she had a way of distracting him. In white shorts and a sleeveless denim blouse, she showed off a tanned, compact body with more curves than a logging road in the Cascade Mountains. The V of her blouse’s neckline gave him a quick glimpse of cleavage between breasts that were more than ample to fit into a man’s palm.

  He caught himself at the thought and shifted his gaze back to the truck. Katie Kinkaid’s all-American-girl-next-door good looks were heightened by a bit of raw sensuality that gripped him hard and caused a ridiculous tightening in his groin.

  Obviously it had been way too long since he’d been with a woman.

  He even noticed the dimple that creased her cheek when she smiled. She was sexy and earthy, yet exuded an innocence and charm that, if he let it, might get under his skin.

  “When do you plan to open the doors?” she asked, and he cleared his throat for fear his voice would betray him.