by Lisa Jackson
The rest, as they say, was history. He’d helped her “spill” her drink, had plotted to get her up to his room, but sensed that she wasn’t comfortable, wasn’t used to one-night stands. Hell, neither was he. Not any longer. But from his initial glimpse of her he’d known she would be different. Interesting. Intriguing. And she hadn’t disappointed. Just thinking of their night together made him hard. He’d woken up and found her gone, which was unusual. No note, no trace of her. He’d called the front desk and gotten no information on Celia O’Hara.
She’d just disappeared.
He’d decided to track her down, and felt like a fool. Never in his life had a woman walked out on him. Never. And he hadn’t liked the feeling. So he’d gone so far as to call a private investigator who’d done identity checks on people he was considering hiring for Black Gold. The man had come up empty. Celia O’Hara, the paralegal from Southern California, had disappeared.
Or, as he learned later, had never existed. Then out of the blue he’d gotten that life-altering call from Garrett Kincaid telling him he wasn’t Harold Remmington’s son, after all. Hell, no, he was Larry Kincaid’s bastard.
He’d been about to shelve looking for the woman, had even called his own private investigator and told him to quit searching—and now she’d fallen into his lap. Not as Celia O’Hara, the paralegal intent on becoming a lawyer, but Gina Henderson, a P.I. who had pulled the wool over his eyes and been investigating him, for crying out loud!
He kicked at a rock and sent it careening into a fence post. From the porch the old pooch gave up a soft woof.
The worst part of it was, he was still attracted to her. She’d lied to him, deceived him, played him for one helluva fool, yet Trent could hardly be around her without getting an erection that just wouldn’t quit. It was ridiculous. Foolish. His reaction to her was way out of line, as if he were a horny nineteen-year-old kid instead of thirty-two and supposedly an adult.
But then everything about his life was a little out of whack right now. He’d considered phoning Blake and talking over the entire situation with him, but had decided against it. He and his twin, though identical in looks, were worlds apart in their thinking. Trent had always wondered about those twins who grew up wearing the same clothes, being each other’s best friend, riding matching bikes. He couldn’t imagine it. He’d been into leather jackets, jeans and T-shirts in high school. Blake had gone for a preppier look. Trent had ridden a motorcycle hell-bent-for-leather whenever he could, picked up more than his share of speeding tickets and was lucky he’d never spent a night in jail. Blake had driven their mother’s car when they lived at home, a dependable sedan when they were away at boarding school, put his nose firmly to the grindstone and with the idea of becoming a doctor chiseled into his brain from a young age, had put his goal in front of everything else. He’d even married well, a girl from a socially acceptable family, then moved to California where he’d set up practice as a pediatrician.
Trent had almost envied his brother’s vision for his life, but that vision seemed to be blurring as Blake had divorced and, if Trent had read the last telephone conversation correctly, Blake was looking for more in his life.
Whatever the hell that meant.
With a final glance at the stars, Trent slapped the top rail of the fence and walked toward the house. The smell of fresh-mown hay lingered in the air but was laced with the trace of Celia—damn, he had to get it right—Gina’s perfume. If he listened real hard, he was certain he heard the rush of water through the creek that cut through some of the pastures. Horses nickered softly, grass rustled and the wind sighed through the few sparse trees. The old Kincaid house rose out of the land and sprawled wide.
Home?
Trent snorted and examined the mansion with a jaundiced eye.
He didn’t think so.
“Okay, so where are we?” Jack asked from their office in L.A. as Gina, sipping coffee and fighting a headache from too little sleep, wedged the phone between her shoulder and ear. She was sitting in a worn leather desk chair in the den and was looking through the open window to a view of the stables and several interlocking paddocks.
“Garrett’s talked all of the brothers into coming here. They start arriving early next week. Well, except for Trent Remmington. He kind of jumped the gun and showed up before I got here.” Leaning back in the chair, she watched Trent and Garrett talking to Rand Harding, the ranch foreman. They were seemingly discussing the small herd of cattle that had just been driven into one of the pens, dusty coats catching rays of early morning light. Disgruntled, they bawled as the men who, deep in conversation, pointed from one steer to another.
“Gina?” Jack’s voice brought her back to the present. “So, all of Larry’s sons will be there?”
“Just the illegitimate ones, I think. Garrett didn’t say a word about Collin or Melanie, the kids Larry had with his wife. So we’re expecting six, five more. I still haven’t located the baby or his mother.” She frowned as this little mystery was the only part she hadn’t been able to figure out. Who was the last woman Larry had been involved with and where was she? Gina had always relied on gut instinct and feminine intuition. Right now she had a feeling that Larry’s youngest child, who was little more than a baby, was nearby.
“If the baby exists.” Jack was skeptical. One note in a personal journal didn’t mean that there was a seventh illegitimate son, or so he’d said time and time again. “Six is enough, don’t you think?”
“I know, but searching through Larry’s things, it just seems that there might be a much younger sibling.” She took another swig from her now-cold coffee and frowned. “One who was born in the last couple of years.”
“You’re sure about this?” her brother asked, and her nerves were instantly strung tight. Jack was well-meaning but overprotective. He was often second-guessing her and always cautious, to the point that she wanted to scream. Eight years her senior and having spent time working for the Los Angeles Police Department, he was forever afraid she might get hurt.
“I’m not sure about anything,” she admitted, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “But I have this gut feeling that there’s another son.”
“Here we go again. Instinct over facts.” He laughed and she imagined his hazel eyes crinkling in amusement.
“It’s worked before.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“But you’d like to.”
“Ah, baby sister, you know me well,” he teased.
“Unfortunately,” she cracked.
“So, how’re you going to go about locating the kid?”
Gina’s eyes narrowed as she thought. “I’ve gone through the regular channels, checked hospital records, birth announcements in the paper, adoption agencies and lawyers, so now I’m going to listen to some good old-fashioned gossip. There’s a place where everyone in Whitehorn seems to gather—a diner called the Hip Hop Café.”
“So what if that tack doesn’t work?”
“Well, I don’t know. Back to square one. I guess I’ll just have to talk to Winona Cobbs, she’s something of a psychic around these parts, I hear. Maybe she can just read some tea leaves or gaze into a crystal ball or read a few palms or something.”
“Oh, brother.”
“No, in this case, it’s ‘Oh, half brothers.’”
“Very funny,” he drawled, then chuckled. “Listen, take care of yourself and—”
“Don’t do anything dangerous. Watch your back and call you if there’s a hint of trouble. Have I got it down, Jack?” She couldn’t help needling him.
“I guess. Hey, one more question. How’re you getting along with Remmington?”
She glanced back to the window and discovered Trent was no longer with Garrett and Rand. “That’s a tough one,” she admitted, “considering the circumstances.”
“Well, keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
“Love ya, kiddo.”
“Love ya, too, old man,” she teased and, as she hung
up, glanced at the date on the display of her laptop computer. It had been more than a month since the night she’d spent in Dallas with Trent and… Oh, Lord. A familiar worry wormed through her brain again. Her throat tightened as she stared at the date, then brought up the screen for April. There it was, big as life—the little mark she always made that reminded her of her last period.
More than six weeks ago.
Her heart sank.
She’d never been this late. Never.
Nor have you ever slept with anyone before…and unprotected sex at that. Oh, Gina, what were you thinking? You’re smarter than this.
There had to be some mistake. Had to.
So she either was sick or she was pregnant.
It was time to find out which.
Winona prided herself on her ability to read people. It wasn’t just their expression or their body language that gave away their inner thoughts. Oh, no. It was much more. She was certain each person’s aura manifested itself, and if most people took the time, they, too, might view what she found so obvious.
As she walked down the dusty street, she noticed more than most people. Jordan Baxter had paused in the awning of the bank building, checked the lazy flow of traffic, then jaywalked across the street. He was concentrating so hard, his eyebrows cinched together under the brim of his hat, his lips all drawn up as if he’d been sucking on lemons. Anyone who glanced in his direction could tell that he was as mad as a nest of hornets just shot with a hose.
But Winona knew there was more to it than simple ire. The look on Jordan’s face was reserved for those times when he had to deal with the Kincaids. He’d never gotten over the fact that his mother had been just another notch on Jeremiah Kincaid’s belt. Poor Jordan, he was forever trying to prove himself as good as the Kincaids. No doubt he’d heard a whole passel of them were due to arrive.
Jordan blew past and didn’t even shoot his disdainful once-over her way. But then, he was a little intimidated these days. He’d tried to buy her land on the highway, attempted to force her out of the Stop-n-Swap, but she’d told him to leave her alone, that she’d ricochet all his bad energy back in his direction if he tried it. He’d laughed at her until a few little “accidents” had occurred all around him. Unnerved, he’d taken her advice to heart, backed off, and seemed to now save his frustrations for the Kincaids.
Well, good luck. In Winona’s opinion, bad karma begat only bad karma. As long as Jordan dwelled on the negative, he’d never prosper. All his money and possessions would give him little joy.
She wiped at her head with a handkerchief and paused on her way to the bank when she noticed a rig pull into a parking spot in front of the Hip Hop Café. A tall redhead practically flew out of the shiny Ford. She was a pretty girl with a strong stride, determined set to her chin, and a no-nonsense attitude that caught Winona’s eye. But there was more to her than that, Winona thought. This gal looked like a woman on a mission.
That was the trouble with the young people today; they were all moving way too fast. The young woman, whoever she was, had better slow down because if she didn’t she was headed for a fall. Winona had a sixth sense about these things.
“Oh, that Larry Kincaid, he loved women. Didn’t matter if they were married or not. He charmed the socks off ’em. Well, the socks and a whole lot more.” Seated at the first booth of the Hip Hop Café, Lily Mae gave an exaggerated wink, showing off an eyelid covered in bright blue eyeshadow.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Gina, if there was a female within fifty miles of him, she was fair game as far as he was concerned,” the little old lady said with a smug I’ve-seen-it-all smile. A friendly thing, Lily Mae was anxious to give out as much information as she could, but even she couldn’t keep up with Larry Kincaid’s exploits.
From her side of the both, Gina nodded and noticed that she was the object of more than one curious glance. “I’m talking about a woman he might have been seeing a couple of years ago, or a year ago, not long before he died.”
“I’m thinkin’, I’m thinkin’.” Lily Mae swirled her iced tea and a slice of lemon pirouetted through the cubes.
“There were so many, it’s pretty hard to keep them straight.” Lily Mae glanced around the crowded café, always on the alert for the makings of more gossip. “Haven’t you found a passel of his sons, already? All of ’em have different mothers, don’t they?”
“Just about.” Aside from Trent and his twin brother Blake, the other four men had been brought into the world by different women. Gina tapped her fingers anxiously on the edge of the table until she realized Lily Mae was taking note of her case of nerves.
“Somethin’ botherin’ you?”
Only that I slept with the grandson of my client. That I lied to him and now have to face him every day, and that I might just be pregnant with his child. Other than that, things are just peachy. “I’m just trying to wrap this up,” Gina said. That much was true.
As the waitress passed by, Lily Mae held up her half-full glass. “How ‘bout a refill, Janie?”
Janie managed a patient smile as she quickly jotted an order from a nearby table onto her pad. “Coming right up,” she said to either the two men from the sheriff’s department who were seated at the next booth—or to Lily Mae, Gina couldn’t tell which. The café was crowded, Janie nearly running herself ragged as she breezed from one table to another.
“They need another waitress here,” Lily Mae mumbled. “Janie can’t do it all herself.”
“I think they’re looking for one.” Gina nodded to the Help Wanted placard taped to the inside of a window.
“Well, it better be soon.”
“So, tell me about the women in Larry Kincaid’s life.”
“That would take forever. Oh, thank you dear.” Lily Mae smiled brightly as Janie came by with a pitcher of iced tea. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked. “We’ve got fresh strawberry-rhubarb pie today.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t…” Lily Mae said, then lifted a shoulder, “but I can’t resist. Bring me a piece with some ice cream. Vanilla.”
“Anything for you?” Janie asked Gina as the ceiling fans slowly turned overhead.
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, come on,” Lily Mae insisted. “People come from miles around for the pies and donuts here.”
“Fine,” Gina agreed, more to be amiable than from hunger. “The same.”
“You won’t regret it.” Lily Mae winked again as Janie refilled her glass then hurried off. “Now, as for the women in Larry Kincaid’s life, let’s see…” Lily Mae wriggled her fingers and started rambling on, her version of Larry’s colorful life a mixture of fact and fiction. She paused only when the two slices of pie were delivered.
Gina was amazed and took mental notes of anything that seemed the least bit true.
“You know a lot about Larry Kincaid,” she said.
“Well, that’s true. I make it my business to know.” Guileless, the older woman waved her fork at Gina. “Whitehorn’s a small town. I just keep my eyes and ears open.”
“So, who was the last woman Larry was involved with?”
Lily Mae was cutting off another bite from her wedge of pie. She stopped and thought for a second, little lines furrowing between her eyebrows. “You know, I don’t really recall.” Then, as if she’d let herself down, she shook her head. “I’ll have to do some checking around.”
So will I, Gina thought. And I’m going to do it quickly. The sooner she could get out of Dodge—er, Whitehorn, and away from Trent Remmington, the better!
“So, tell me about Gina,” Trent suggested as Garrett surveyed the progress on the indoor arena that he’d ordered built as he hoped to train horses during the harsh winter months ahead. The framework was finished, the roof in place and the siding started. Frowning, pulling on a two-by-four to test its strength, he seemed satisfied that he was getting his money’s worth from the construction crew he’d hired to update the paddock and repair the ranch house.
“What is it you
want to know?” From beneath the brim of his hat, he slid his grandson a glance.
“You hired her to find Larry’s sons.” He just couldn’t make himself call the son of a bitch who’d sired him “father.” No way.
“Yes.”
“And she did.”
Garrett straightened, swatted at a horsefly, then rubbed his thumb over the head of a nail that had been driven into one of the two-by-fours. “That’s about the size of it. Actually, I hired her brother.”
“Brother?”
“Jack. He’s really the owner of the private investigation firm. Gina works for him.”
Trent’s jaw slid to one side. So much for her mysterious relationship with Jack. He should have figured she’d lie to him again. “Does she?” he asked, and didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in his voice. He couldn’t wait to confront her with this little bit of knowledge. He’d heard her talking to Jack on the phone yesterday morning and jealousy, ridiculous as it was, had burned in Trent’s gut. He couldn’t help himself. Where she was concerned, he was fast becoming a fool.
Garrett’s gaze narrowed on his grandson. The grooves around the corners of his eyes deepened. “Well, there’s more to it than that, I’d say. They’re almost partners. Jack worked for the L.A.P.D. for years and he takes the more dangerous cases, mainly because he’s protective of his little sis. But she’s no slacker. I have the feeling she’d like more dangerous assignments, but she’s gifted at what she does. She’s developed quite a reputation for finding lost family members.” He shoved the brim of his hat up with a thumb. “Found you pretty quick, now, didn’t she?”
“I suppose.”
“And that bothers you.”
“Nope.”
“Then maybe it’s the woman herself that bothers you.” It wasn’t a question. The old man was pretty intuitive, Trent would give him that. “And I don’t blame you. She’s one good-looking, smart lady.”
And a liar, Trent silently added. He wondered if he could believe anything that passed between those perfect white teeth. “I’m not in the market.”
