by Lisa Jackson
“Seems he’s interested in a grandson and he’s already got me and Max waltzing down the aisle, saying I dos and planning a family, which of course is out of the question.”
“You don’t know that—”
“I heard what the doctors said after the appendicitis and P.I.D., Mom. Pelvic inflammatory disease. You remember. Because of what everyone said—that I must’ve gotten it from being sexually active or as a result of some sexually transmitted disease—when the truth was, it was from the appendicitis.” She felt a rush of the old fury that had consumed her years before when Doc Fletcher had asked her all kinds of embarrassing questions about her sex life, which, at fourteen, didn’t exist. She had been too embarrassed to talk and her mother had stood up for her. Only after discarding any of the other reasons for her infection, did Doc Fletcher decide the P.I.D. had probably been caused by her acute case of appendicitis two years before. “I’m on my way to medical school, and I know that my chances of ever having children of my own are slim.”
“You don’t know—”
“I do, Mom. That’s the problem. Let’s face it, my periods have been irregular from the beginning, and then there’s the P.I.D.”
“You have no reason to give up hope.”
“I haven’t, not really. I don’t even think about it. Unless it’s thrown in my face by someone like Jonah McKee.” She threw herself into an old recliner by the window. “How does he know?”
Her mother had the decency to look down at her hands. She pretended interest in a nonexistent hangnail, then nervously licked her lips. “That’s my fault,” she admitted in a hesitant whisper.
Skye felt immediately contrite for putting her mother through this ordeal, but she wasn’t going to let the subject drop. Some topics were personal—her infertility being at the top of the list. “You told him?” she demanded, trying and failing to keep her tone from being accusing.
“I had to.”
“No one has to.”
“All your doctor bills weren’t paid by the insurance and Jonah knew about the appendectomy and offered to help out with the bills. He needed copies, of course, and well...he saw that you were having gynecological problems.”
“Wonderful,” Skye said with more than a trace of sarcasm. “Who else knows?”
“No one. Jonah would never tell a soul.”
“How do you know that? The guy’s a wild card. He plays by his own rules and damns the consequences.”
Irene’s back stiffened. She struggled to a sitting position. “He’s been a godsend to us, Skye, and don’t you ever forget it. Without Jonah’s help after your father died, we would have been on the street.”
“Dad died while working for him,” Skye countered. “He probably just feels guilty.”
“A lesser man wouldn’t.”
“What we’re talking about is my personal life, Mom. My female organs, for God’s sake! He has no right, no damned right to know that kind of thing about me—”
“That couldn’t be helped.”
“And now he’s using it against me. To get me to stop seeing Max.”
“I don’t believe it,” Irene said firmly. “Jonah McKee is a good man. The best.”
“Then God save us, ’cause we’re all in a world of hurt.”
“It’d be worse if he hadn’t been around.”
There was no talking to her mother when she was in this mood. Skye shoved herself from the chair and left her mother watching the news. In the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water calmed her nerves, but as she lathered her body, her fingers brushed the scar left from her appendectomy, and she felt a chill as deep as the sea. Jonah McKee knew too much about her and now he was using that knowledge to manipulate her. As well as Max.
Thinking about Max, she smiled. She hadn’t planned to fall in love with him; in fact had fought that silly notion. But as the days and nights had passed, she realized she’d fallen deeply, head over heels in love. Not that anything would ever come of it. Hadn’t Jonah made it perfectly clear that Max was the McKee heir, that it was his lot in life to spawn children and inherit the family fortune? Leaning against the old metal shower stall, she closed her eyes and let the hot water run down her back. Children. She’d always wanted children. Or just a child. One would be enough, and the thought of never being able to bear Max’s children was pure torture. Nothing would make her happier than to give Max a child.
But she’d learned long ago that children would probably never be a part of her life, not as a parent, anyway. So she’d chosen to become a pediatrician or at least a G.P. so that she could be around kids.
She hadn’t wanted an emotional commitment—especially not with Max McKee. Maybe she shouldn’t risk going to the McKee ranch later; maybe she was only borrowing trouble. But Max had invited her and she wasn’t going to let some scare tactics from his father ruin her life. She’d meet Max as she’d promised, and if Jonah threw her off the place, so be it.
“Stupid girl,” she muttered, the water running down her face.
Someone pounded furiously on the bathroom door. “Hey, leave me a little hot water, would you?” Dani yelled from the hall.
“Be right out!” Skye turned off the shower and the old pipes groaned in protest. She yanked at a towel hanging over the shower curtain rail, dried herself off and wrapped the thick terry cloth around her middle.
She shouldn’t have fought with her mother. Irene was struggling to do her best for both Skye and Dani. Irene had only made the mistake of trusting the wrong man. Because he’d been kind to her. Because he’d cared for her small and very dependent family.
As she combed the tangles from her hair, she padded barefoot into the bedroom where she found Dani peeling off clothes that reeked of horses, sweat and smoke. “I thought maybe you’d up and died in there,” Dani said. “I was about to dial 911.”
“Very funny.”
Wincing, Dani slid her arms from the sleeves of a dusty red blouse.
“Jeez, what happened?” Skye asked, staring at the bruise that had formed on Dani’s upper arm.
“I got into a fight with a particularly stubborn yearling.” Dani glowered at the purple welt.
“Looks like you lost.”
“Yeah, but it’s just round one. Unfortunately this one’s bite is worse than his bark—or neigh.”
Gently, Skye touched the tender area and Dani sucked in her breath through her teeth. “What’re you tryin’ to do, kill me?”
“You should put some ice on it.”
“Thank you, Dr. Donahue,” Dani said sarcastically, then shrugged. “I’ll get some from the freezer as soon as I clean up. She slid out of her smelly jeans. ”Oh, guess who owns the colt? You’ll love this.”
Skye raised a shoulder. She didn’t share her sister’s love of horses—especially mean-tempered ones—and had no idea who Dani was working for this week. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Casey McKee. Can you believe it? She wants me to help train the mean bastard, and he decided rather than accept the bit to take a bite out of my arm.”
Dani was working for Max’s younger sister? “I thought she did all her own horse training.”
“Too busy right now, I guess.”
“Didn’t you tell me once that Casey McKee was a spoiled brat?” Skye towel dried her hair and grabbed clean underwear from her drawer.
“That’s right.”
“But you’re working for her? I thought you wanted nothing to do with the McKees.”
Dani, standing in her bra and panties, grinned, “That’s right, but I’m not going to turn down their money. Somehow taking money from those bastards seems like the right thing to do.” She kicked her dirty clothes toward a hamper and rummaged around until she found her bathrobe. Slinging it over her shoulders, she said, “You know what the latest McKee scam is, don’t you?”
“Scam?”
“Come on, Skye, you type all the papers. You’ve got to know that he and some of his bigwig partners
—Judge Rayburn’s one of them—have cooked up a deal to weasel Fred Donner out of his water rights.”
“I don’t believe—”
“Why not? Wildcat Creek runs through the Rayburn spread and the Rocking M as well as the Donner homestead.” Dani shot Skye a look over her shoulder. “Your boyfriend, Max, has his fingerprints all over that deal, and it looks like Fred Donner and his family might have to move even though his family’s lived there for over a hundred years.”
Skye pulled on a plain cotton sweater and a pair of jeans. “I don’t believe it. I typed a document for the company....” What had it said? It was clearly about water rights, but what was it?
“Read the fine print,” Dani advised. “I talked to Fred’s wife, Vickie, and she’s sick over what happened. Trouble is, she and Fred can’t afford a big-city lawyer like Daddy McKee’s got in Max.” Dani clucked her tongue. “If you ask me, it’s criminal.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe what you want to believe, but old Jonah McKee is an A1 bastard. Haven’t you figured that out yet? As for your precious Max,” Dani said, throwing on her robe and heading across the hall to the bathroom, “you know what they say. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Dani didn’t stay for supper. She had a date, didn’t say with whom, and ran out to the front of the house the minute a huge black pickup pulled into the drive. “Whose rig is that?” Irene asked, lifting herself up from the couch and staring out the window as the truck pulled away.
“I don’t know.” Skye placed a plate of chicken and dumplings on a TV tray and positioned it, along with the remote control, near the couch. She felt a little guilty leaving her mother again, but she and Max were supposed to have dinner together—just the two of them. The way things were going, if Jonah had his way, this might be their last time together.
“Dani doesn’t confide in you?” Irene struggled into a sitting position and muted the television with the remote.
Skye shook her head. “She stopped doing that a long time ago. What would you like to drink. Soda? Milk? Iced tea?”
“Just water. I worry about her, you know,” Irene said on a sigh. “I worry about both you girls.”
“Just look after yourself, Mom. We’re old enough to take care of ourselves.”
“Are you?” She picked up her fork as Skye poured her some water from the pitcher on the table. “Sometimes I wonder.”
By the time she’d reached the lane leading to the McKee ranch, Skye’s stomach was in knots. Hands clamped on the wheel, she drove through an open gate emblazoned with the brand of the Rocking M and along a paved drive lined with hundred-year-old oak trees and a split-rail fence. “Give me strength,” she prayed as a single-story ranch house came into view. Stained a warm brown, with white shutters and trimmed in river rock, the McKee home had originally been a single room, which had been added onto and remodeled until there were now two wings angling off the entrance. A wide porch faced west, shading the house from the afternoon heat.
Skye parked her car near the garage and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that Jonah’s Jeep was nowhere in sight. She was hopeful she could avoid another confrontation with him.
She rang the bell and stiffened her spine, certain that Jonah would throw open the door and fly into a rage. Instead, when the door opened, she stood face-to-face with his wife, Virginia. She was a tall blonde, with warm brown eyes and an easy smile. “Come on in,” she offered, waving Skye inside the rambling ranch house. “Max, Skye’s here,” she called over her shoulder.
Skye heard footsteps, but they were light and quick, unlike Max’s heavier tread. Within seconds, Max’s sister, Casey, rounded the corner. Shorter than Skye, with dark brown hair banded away from her face and a quick smile, she grabbed a worn jean jacket from a peg near the front door. Her face lost color at the sight of Skye. “Oh, God, is Dani okay?”
“She’ll live,” Skye said.
“You’re not here because she was hurt?”
“Max invited Skye over,” Virginia said, her brows pulling together. “Now what’s this about Dani?”
Casey blew her bangs out of her eyes with a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I asked Dani to help me with Buckshot. She was here a little while ago and he tried to take a nip out of her.”
“I told you that colt was too mean to keep around,” Virginia said in a sudden flash of anger. “He’s vicious.”
“He just needs to know who’s boss. That’s why I called Dam.”
“A lot of good it did.” Some of Virginia’s cordiality was wearing thin. “Where’s your brother, anyway?”
“Last I saw him he was outside with Jenner.”
At that moment, there were footsteps on the front porch and Max came striding in through the open door. Wearing faded jeans, a work shirt with the sleeves shoved over his forearms, he graced them all with a crooked grin before his gaze landed on Skye. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“I just got here.”
Virginia said, “I was just going to ask her to have dinner with us.”
“Another time. We’ve already got plans.”
“Yes, I know. Kiki told me,” Virginia responded, then touched Skye on the arm. “But the invitation stands. You’ll have to come out here, maybe with your family.”
“I’d like that,” Skye replied, though she knew it wouldn’t happen. Jonah was the ruler in this family and there was no way he’d want her to sit at his table like his or Max’s equal.
“We’ll see you later.” Max shepherded Skye into the kitchen where the sounds of country music battled with the rumble of the dishwasher. The air was thick with the fragrances of cinnamon, coffee and fried chicken.
A thin woman with steel-colored hair was placing plastic containers into a picnic hamper while chicken sizzled in a frying pan on the stove. “I don’t know why he needs all this,” she said, fussing. “Easier to eat at the table, if ya ask me.” Spying Max out of the corner of her eye, her pinched lips twitched a little. “Everything’s done, but I can’t be blamed if it gets cold by the time you sit down.”
“It’s fine, Kiki, really. Thanks,” Max said, sweeping the hamper from the kitchen counter. “Much appreciated.”
“Just see that all my things get back here.”
“No problem.”
He ushered Skye out the back door and helped her into his truck. “Your father’s not here?” she questioned as he drove through the opened gates of one of the pastures near the house. A pair of ruts cut through the dry grass, and cattle and horses, locked away by an intricate set of gates and fences, grazed in adjacent fields. The truck bounced through the dry grass and over a small knoll.
“My father’s working.”
“In the office?” Skye asked, remembering Jonah as he’d left.
Max shook his head. “Meeting in Dawson City, I think.”
“And you didn’t have to go along?”
“I couldn’t,” Max said with a widening grin. “I had a date with a beautiful woman and no one, not even Jonah P. McKee, could convince me to break it.”
Oh, Max! Jonah’s words spun through her thoughts. You’re not the woman for him. You can’t give him what he wants. He needs children—a son. Her throat grew thick and hot tears threatened her eyes. He settled a hand over her knee and smiled at her and she melted inside. Could she deny him a child? Why not adopt? If an adopted baby wasn’t a good enough grandchild for Jonah, well, to hell with the old man. But she was getting ahead of herself. Max hadn’t asked her to marry him, hadn’t even hinted they could have a future together.
And yet his hand was warm against her thigh, the glance he sent her confident and secure. He grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the dash and slid them onto his nose as the sun lowered over the western hills. “You take over,” he said, braking for a gate.
He climbed out of the truck, slid the latch on the aluminum gate, and standing on the bottom rail, let the gate swing open. Skye put the pickup in gear and drove through,
watching in the dusty sideview mirror while Max closed the gate. Tall and lean, with jeans that rode low on his hips and skin as burnished as tanned leather, he was handsome and ranch tough. No big-city lawyer, but a man weathered by the elements who could brand a bawling steer or draw up a legal contract with the same amount of ease, a man who was comfortable in faded jeans, or button-down collars and three-piece suits, a man at home on the wide open range or in the glass-and-steel towers of the city.
“Weren’t you afraid I might leave you?” she asked after he climbed behind the wheel.
His smile was crookedly seductive in the hot interior of the truck. “Never.”
“Never?”
He leaned over, the tip of his nose touching hers, his lips hovering just above her own. “Never,” he whispered again and she felt her diaphragm slam up against her lungs. She thought he would kiss her, but instead he shoved the truck into first and drove through the pastures of bent grass and wildflowers.
“Aren’t you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Sure you do. Everybody does.”
The ruts were less visible now and long blades of dry grass and weeds brushed the underbelly of the truck. They drove along the bank of Wildcat Creek until the water widened at the shallows.
Max turned into the creek.
“Hey, what’re you doing?” she cried out, wondering if he’d lost his mind.
“Trust me. It’s not very deep.”
“Don’t you people believe in bridges?”
“Not when we don’t need ’em.” The truck sloshed through the creek and climbed the bank on the far side where the road seemed almost nonexistent and a forest of pine and scrub oak grew on a low ridge of foothills. Finally they connected with a more defined gravel road and turned onto it. The stony drive curved through a stand of pine trees and emptied into a clearing. A house, as yet just concrete foundation, wood frame and plywood floors stood backdropped by the forest.
“What’s this?”
“Home,” Max said proudly. “Or it will be someday.” He cut the engine and helped her out of the truck.
