by Helen Lacey
Not ever.
He watched as Brooke headed straight for the crib. She hung back at first, almost hesitating, until Cara responded and held out her chubby arms and then Brooke gently lifted her up. He watched silently, witnessing the bond that was becoming evident. Blood ties. He’d never felt it. Never known it.
But blood and family were obviously important to Brooke.
“Have you heard from your brother?” he asked and closed the door.
She looked across the room and the smile she’d given Cara faded slightly. “Not yet. I sent another message this morning. He’ll call... I’m sure of it. And once he knows about this darling girl I know he’ll come back.”
Tyler wasn’t so sure. Oh, he knew Cara should bring Matthew back home. But Matt Laughton didn’t strike him as a young man who was swayed by what he should do. However, he’d made a commitment to Yelena to give the other man a chance to do what was right. And he would. For the moment.
“I hope you’re right,” he said quietly and watched as Brooke cradled the baby on her hip and began talking to her.
After a moment, as though aware she was being observed, she met his gaze. “She’s so beautiful. Her eyes are—”
“Like yours,” Tyler said quietly. “The same color.”
She nodded, like it pleased her. “She looks like Matt did when he was a baby. My mom said he was way too pretty to be a little boy,” she said and laughed softly. “I always liked to tease him about that when we were growing up.”
“You were close?”
She shrugged a little. “I guess. I’m eight years older than him so I was very much the big sister. But yeah, we were close... I mean...until he left when our...when...”
“When your parents were killed?”
Her eyes darkened. “Yeah...then.”
He knew her parents had been dead for five years. Knew Matthew had been driving the car that afternoon. But he was interested in knowing the details. “Would you tell me what happened?”
She sat down on the small couch and held Cara in her arms. The baby gurgled and laughed and Brooke’s expression was one of pure delight. Something uncurled in his chest, a strange sensation that was rooted deep down. He’d never been sentimental or allowed himself to get close to anyone and he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. Nor did he want to.
After a moment she looked up. “I’m pretty sure you already know.”
“I know what the case file says,” he replied. “I know Matthew was driving the car and that he crashed and your parents were killed instantly.”
“Then you know everything.”
“Really?”
She shrugged again, harder this time. “He was driving, but the accident was not his fault. There was another driver who—”
“I don’t recall another driver being mentioned in the file I read.”
“No,” she said and grimaced. “You won’t. The driver fled the scene.”
“And no charges were ever filed?”
Brooke rocked the baby gently and met his gaze for just a moment. “It’s complicated. And really none of your concern.”
“If it’s the reason why your brother is reluctant to return home then it is my concern.”
“Matthew doesn’t come home because he feels guilty,” she said, hostility flashing in her eyes. “Our parents were killed. So was Sky Dancer. Matt couldn’t get past the—”
“Sky Dancer?” Tyler queried, remembering the file had mentioned something about a horse being killed in the crash. “That’s the horse that was killed?”
“He wasn’t just a horse. He was our foundation stallion,” she explained. “The ranch used to be renowned across the state for its quarter horses. Sky Dancer was the stallion that my father built that breeding program on. Without my father and Sky Dancer the ranch stopped being a working horse ranch and instead...”
“Instead?” he prompted.
She sighed. “Instead it became a place where I give trail rides to tourists in summer and run a few dozen head of cattle to try and keep the place solvent.”
Her voice held all the disappointment of dreams lost and something unexpected uncurled in his chest.
Tyler didn’t do sympathy. His job taught him to be impartial and detached. But Brooke Laughton’s haunted indigo eyes were hard to stay out of. “And do you want to return it to what it once was?”
She sighed again and rocked the now chattering baby on her knee. “Of course. One day I’ll buy Cloud Dancer and I’ll be able to—”
“Cloud Dancer?” he inquired, one brow raised.
“Sky Dancer’s grandson,” she replied. “He’s on the show circuit at the moment but lives on a ranch in Montana. He’s every bit the horse his grandfather was...same strong lines, same unflappable temperament. When I was competing I rode him several times and he always gave his all.”
Tyler was uncharacteristically mesmerized by the passion in her voice. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone brightly, like he’d struck a nerve with the mention of horses. He vaguely remembered Yelena telling him that Brooke used to be a professional barrel racer and how Matthew had been in awe of her commitment and success on the show circuit. It fascinated him. “Your horses mean a lot to you?”
Her gaze narrowed, like she was immediately looking for the insult in his words. “Do you think that’s nuts? Maybe it is...but I’ve always felt more at home with animals than I have with most people.”
“I would have pegged you for a people person.”
“Why?” she laughed. “Because I’m so easygoing?”
Tyler grinned fractionally. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. You did have your rifle at the ready last night.”
“Can’t be too careful these days.”
“I guess not. But like I said, I’m not a threat to you.”
“I know that,” she said and looked at the baby and smiled. “Besides, my dogs are a good judge of character and they liked you. You seem very... I don’t know. Civilized.”
Tyler laughed softly. Had anyone ever called him that before? Probably not. Not in his personal life and certainly not in the courtroom. Arrogant, cold and detached—that’s what he was renowned for. Someone who got the job done without getting bogged down in sentiment. Corporate cases were his specialty and he had a 95 percent win rate. He’d toppled big corporations and wiped out smaller contenders. He worked at one of the top legal firms in New York on a six-figure retainer, owned a penthouse apartment in Manhattan, drove a top-of-the-range BMW and had his suits and shoes made in Italy.
It was quite a leap from being a one-day-old baby dumped in a box and left on a church doorstep in Nowhere, Nebraska.
He ignored the twitch in his gut. Thinking about his beginnings, about the mother who’d abandoned him and then his caring, but tree-hugging, adoptive parents, served no purpose. The past needed to stay where it was. The present was all that mattered.
“Your brother has a week,” he said quietly, purposefully, and with every effort to get her eyes and freckles out of his thoughts.
She stared at him. “I know he’ll come back. But if he doesn’t I assure you that I can look after—”
“If he doesn’t come back,” Tyler said, cutting her off before she had a chance to plead her case. “Then I’ll return to New York with Cara.”
“So she can be adopted by strangers?” Brooke shot back. “When she has family right here? When I’m right here?” She took a deep breath. “I’m her family. And I have an aunt and cousins and second cousins in this town. I was born here and I’ve lived here for most of my life. It’s a good town with good people. She belongs here. Surely you can see that?”
Tyler knew this was coming. And he admired her desire to make things right. But good intentions weren’t enough to raise a child. “You’re a single woman and you’ve jus
t admitted your ranch is in financial trouble. Do you think it’s fair to add a child to that struggle?”
Her chin came up. “Plenty of children are successfully raised by single parents. And money isn’t the answer to everything.”
“No,” he said agreeably. “But money is a necessity when raising a child.”
He watched as Brooke’s clearly rising temper was quickly subdued by the baby’s antics. Cara had a way of doing that, he thought and an unexpected wave of affection coursed through him. It was impossible to not be attached to the child. She was sweet natured and happy and he’d spent a good deal of time with her over the past few months. Which is why he had to be sure that Matthew Laughton was up to being a parent—if he ever showed his face. As for Brooke, he suspected she’d agree to look after Cara in a heartbeat, but he wasn’t going to be swayed from his duty simply because he was unexpectedly attracted to her, especially if she had financial troubles.
“Love is all that matters,” she said, scorching him with a hot, resentful glare for a brief second before she quickly got her control back. “And she would get plenty of that right here in Cedar River.”
She was naive if she truly believed that, and although Tyler was suddenly all out of patience, he maintained a civil expression. “Well, if your brother fails to show and you can prove that you are able to financially support a child, I will certainly consider your request.”
“Thank you,” she said and slid onto the floor with the baby to allow Cara to crawl on the carpet. “I appreciate that. I know this must be a difficult situation for you and I understand that you need to put Cara’s needs first. So, I was thinking...perhaps you would consider staying at the ranch while we wait for Matthew to come home. That way, when he calls, you can speak to him right away. And... I’d really like to spend some time with Cara.”
It wasn’t a good idea. In fact, he was sure it was the worst idea possible. He had no intention of living under the same roof as Brooke Laughton...not even for one night.
“No.”
Her jaw tightened. But she didn’t respond with a temper like he assumed she wanted to. She was appeasing him. Keeping him sweet. Playing him. He suspected she would say and do whatever she thought he wanted to hear. But the lawyer in him was immediately on point.
“No?” she queried. “But you can’t really believe a hotel is the best place for a baby.”
“I think I know what’s best for Cara. And this is very comfortable,” he said and waved a vague hand. “Cara has everything she needs and I prefer to be here and not stuck...” His words trailed for a second. “And not so far out of town.”
“It’s a nice hotel,” she said in quiet agreement, clearly holding her tongue. “But it’s a hotel...not a home. Don’t you think she’s been through enough already with losing her mom and then traveling across the country to meet strangers? A real home, where she can have a routine and not be surrounded by staff and tourists, makes much more sense. And I’m a pretty good cook, so you could have home-cooked meals every day. Plus, it’s Christmas next week.”
It was a damned good argument and he admired her approach. But he wasn’t going to be swayed. “Good try. You’d make a fine attorney.”
Her eyes flashed. There was that temper, he thought. It made him smile a little.
“Please...just say you’ll think about the offer. We don’t need to be at war over this.”
Oh, yeah...she was good.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” he said and raised a brow.
She opened her mouth to speak and then clamped her lips together tightly. She had a long fuse. And she was smart. He liked that about her. It meant she wasn’t a pushover. It didn’t mean he was going to move in with her. No way in hell.
* * *
By the time she left the hotel room Brooke was so mad she could have punched someone. Or more specifically, knocked Tyler Madden’s perfectly straight white teeth down his perfectly gorgeous throat.
She stomped out the elevator and almost collided with the hotel’s owner, Liam O’Sullivan. He was another man who thought way too much of himself and his opinions.
“Everything okay, Brooke?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“Sure. Have you seen Kayla?”
Kayla Rickard was one of her closest friends and Brooke was pretty sure she was sleeping with Liam O’Sullivan. Kayla had been tight-lipped about the whole affair—probably since Liam and his family were about as unpopular in town as they were rich and powerful—and since Kayla’s dad absolutely hated Liam’s father for reasons that went back three decades and no one ever talked about.
Liam managed to look a little uncomfortable and checked his watch. “No. She’s probably at work.”
Kayla was curator of the town’s historical museum and art gallery, and Brooke remembered that her friend opened the place for a few hours on Saturday mornings. “Okay, thanks.”
She said goodbye and left the hotel. When she got to the pavement she shivered. Winter had come with a vengeance. Snow blanketed the sidewalk and she tread carefully as she took a left and walked the fifty or so feet to the museum. The adobe shop front was original, dating from the previous century—the place had once been the first mercantile in town. The historical society had purchased the building and turned it into a museum about fifteen years earlier.
“Hey there,” Kayla said when she walked through the front door.
Her friend came around the reception desk and gave her a hug. Kayla was easily the most beautiful woman she’d ever known. Five foot ten with model-perfect proportions and long blond hair that she always wore in a braid. Although Brooke was a couple of years older they’d been friends since they were in middle school and, along with Lucy Monero and Ash McCune, were as close as any friends could be.
“I need to vent,” Brooke said and plonked herself into a chair.
Kayla looked around the empty room. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
She was just about to start spilling her tale of woe when the bell above the door dinged and Ash walked in. Petite and curvy, with flaming red hair, she was a cop who worked for the town’s police department. Brooke was glad for the reinforcements. Having her friends around her in her time of need hardened her resolve. It took another minute or so before she had a chance to explain what had happened and when she was done, her two friends were staring at her incredulously.
“And this lawyer says the baby is Matt’s?” Kayla asked, eyes wide, mouth agape. “For real?”
“For real,” Brooke replied. “And she looks exactly like him anyhow.”
“And if Matt doesn’t come home he’ll take the baby back to New York and see she’s adopted?” Ash, who was a single mom to an eleven-year-old son, clearly thought that to be an outrageously bad idea.
“Exactly,” Brooke replied. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Matt half a dozen times since last night...but nothing. I have no idea where he is. I don’t even know if he’s in the country. And I had no idea he was ever in New York.”
Both women knew her brother’s history and both hardly looked surprised that he hadn’t made contact. But she refused to give up hope. She had to keep having faith in her brother.
“He said he’ll stay for a week. I’m not sure that’s enough time.”
“You should get your own lawyer,” Ash suggested. “In case you need to fight for custody.”
She had one. Werner Stewart. He’d been little help in trying to save her ranch and she suspected he’d be even less help dealing with the custody of a child.
Kayla moved behind the desk and perched herself in front of the computer. “What’s this lawyer’s name?” she asked.
“Tyler Madden.”
Just saying his name made her jumpy. He sure didn’t look like any lawyer she’d known. Her own attorney was overweight, balding and wore cheap suits. Tyler Ma
dden, with his broad shoulders and handsome face, looked like he’d stepped off the pages of a magazine. And he’d regarded her with such blistering intensity she felt like she could barely draw enough breath into her lungs.
He was a buttoned-up city boy. It was all the more reason to dislike him. And the way he’d looked down his condescending nose at her suggestion he bring Cara to the ranch—like she lived in some backwater shack. Sure, the ranch house was a little run-down, but it was clean and comfortable and she did her best to maintain the place.
This is comfortable. That’s what he’d said about the hotel. Like her home wasn’t. Pompous, patronizing, elitist snob!
“Oh...hell.”
“What?” she asked when Kayla spoke. “What is it?”
Her friend looked up, both brows high. “Do you have any idea who this guy is?”
Her stomach sank. “Not a clue.”
“Big-time New York corporate lawyer,” Kayla said and sighed as she read from the screen. “He works for one of the city’s most influential firms and he rarely loses a case. Ice-man, wolf, shark...they’re all words that have been used to describe him. He’s serious stuff.” Her friend smiled a little. “There’s a picture here, too. Wow...and he looks like—”
“I know what he looks like,” Brooke said, cutting her off. “And that’s got nothing to do with the fact that he’s a condescending jerk.”
