by B. J Daniels
She had thought about writing him just before he got out. But she hadn’t wanted to give Rourke any ammunition in writing that he could use against her. She might want to make Easton jealous, but she didn’t want to blow it entirely with him. He was still her best bet for an easy life.
She just hoped Rourke would be as simple to manipulate. She needed him to give Easton that little push he obviously had to have to ask her finally to marry him. She’d given up on using Cash to make Easton jealous. Cash was still hung up on some rich gal he’d met at college who’d disappeared. Even Blaze Logan couldn’t compete with a ghost.
And J.T…. she didn’t want to think about him. He’d made it very clear he wasn’t looking for a wife unless she was interested in being a ranch wife, which meant she was to cook and clean and play mama not only to any children they would have, but also his little sister—and he hadn’t minced words about it. He’d had a bad experience with some city girl who had soured him on city girls—and women with careers outside the home.
Blaze, who had no intention of being a career woman or a ranch wife, had informed J.T. that if he wanted her, he’d have to hire a cook, a nanny and a housekeeper, because he wouldn’t be marrying one.
He hadn’t given her the time of day after that. Not that he’d done the pursuing in the first place. All he cared about were his stupid cattle.
But Rourke…well, Rourke should be flattered and grateful for her attention. Especially after all those years in prison. He’d boost her ego and make Easton delirious with jealousy. Rourke couldn’t have gotten out of prison at a better time.
She glanced at her watch. Clearly Rourke wasn’t coming by. She swore under her breath. As ridiculous as it was, it seemed she would have to do the pursuing. Turning out the lights and locking up the office, she walked out of the building and headed for her car.
That’s when she saw him. He was just getting out of his pickup. He stopped and she saw his expression and realized this wasn’t the man she used to keep curled around her little finger. Easton was right. Rourke had changed. It crossed her mind that she might be playing with a fire she could no longer control.
But that had never stopped her before, she thought, smiling as she walked toward him. Anyway, this wasn’t about Rourke. This was about Easton and her goal to marry him come hell or high water.
“Rourke,” she said in her most seductive tone as she stopped so close to him she could feel his body heat and smell the masculine scent of him. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt, boots and a straw cowboy hat. All looked new.
He was more muscular, his body a man’s, no longer a boy’s, and there was a hardness in his eyes. She couldn’t imagine how he could be any sexier even if he tried. And Rourke never had to try.
“Blaze,” he said, and gave her a slow, almost calculated smile.
She’d hoped for a little different reaction and felt disappointed that Rourke hadn’t burst into her office earlier, swept her up in his arms, kissed her madly and told her that he’d thought about nothing but her all those years in prison. She’d hoped he would carry her off to ravage her as only Rourke could do.
Easton would have just died and word would have spread all over town faster than a wildfire.
Blaze wasn’t merely disappointed, she was miffed at Rourke. There wasn’t a soul here to see them together. His timing couldn’t have been worse. Where had he been? She’d seen him go into the Longhorn Café earlier in the afternoon. If she hadn’t decided to pretend to work late, she might not have seen him at all.
She was miffed enough that she decided she wouldn’t go anywhere with him when he asked—especially to bed. Not tonight. It probably wouldn’t hurt to play hard to get. Look what it did for Cassidy. Blaze had seen the way Cash McCall was always trying to strike up a conversation with her—and Cassidy not even noticing his interest.
“Working late?” Rourke asked, his tone almost mocking as if he knew she’d waited around for him.
“When did you get back?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Earlier.” He leaned against the front of his pickup as if waiting for her to make the first move.
She glanced at her watch. This wasn’t going anything like she’d hoped.
“You have someplace you need to be?” he asked. He did have a wonderful voice, deep and sexy. Hell, maybe she would let him take her to bed tonight after all.
“Just home. I have an apartment not far from here.” How subtle was that?
“What are you driving?” he asked, looking around. She was driving another ADC Suburban parked next to his pickup.
“I walked to work today.” A little white lie but one that might get her a ride home, and once Rourke walked her to her door—
“Nice evening for a walk,” he said. “I should let you get going.” He pushed himself off the front of the pickup, not even touching her as he started around to the driver’s side door.
“Did you stop by for something?” she asked plaintively.
He paused to look back at her. “Just wanted to see you. You’re not married.”
“No.” She licked her lips.
“I hope you didn’t wait for me,” he said smoothly.
She bristled. “We agreed that was the best thing.”
“Did we? Funny, I thought it was your decision.” He shook his head. “I guess I forgot.”
“I’m glad you’re back,” she called to him as he started to get into his pickup.
“Are you?” He was smiling over the top of the door, then he ducked inside, closed the door and started the engine.
She stood on the sidewalk and watched him drive off. He hadn’t offered to take her home. Hell, he hadn’t even touched her. Was he angry that she’d broken it off eleven years ago? Like she was going to wait eleven years for him.
Or was he just plain not interested?
No way. He was interested. He was a man. He was Rourke McCall. He was just ticked at her for not writing him or visiting him while he was in prison. He’d be back. Probably later tonight. She wished she’d given him her address. Then she realized her own foolishness. He’d find her. He always had before.
She glanced at the dark green Suburban just feet away and then down at her high, high heels. No contest. She wasn’t walking home. She pulled out the keys and headed for the Suburban.
Rourke would have to be punished for not falling all over himself to be with her. She would give him the cold shoulder for a while before she let him make love to her when he showed up at her door tonight. She’d make him park out front. That way Cassidy would see his truck when she drove to work in the morning. So would Easton.
That made Blaze feel better. It wasn’t like Rourke had rejected her. He couldn’t do that. Not as crazy as he’d been about her before he went to prison.
She was deciding what to wear after her shower as she drove to her apartment a few blocks down Main. It should have been a nicer apartment, but her father was still being a bastard and insisting she make her own way.
Which made marriage to Easton Wells look better all the time. But first she deserved one last wild fling with Rourke McCall.
OUT AT THE SUNDOWN RANCH, Asa woke to darkness and the phone. The clock read 3:11 a.m. Nothing but bad news at this time of the morning. He fumbled for the receiver, already shaking, already scared. Rourke. It was his first thought. He hadn’t had a call in the middle of the night since Forrest Danvers was murdered.
Heart hammering, he put the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” His voice sounded scratchy, tight. “Hello?” he said a little louder, and pushed himself up in the bed.
He could hear breathing. Not the heavy breathing of an obscene caller but definitely someone on the line. And there was music in the background. A song he recognized.
“Who is this?” he demanded, suddenly more worried. He listened to the soft breathing, holding his own breath. There was a click, then nothing.
He sat for a long moment holding the phone, trying to understand why his heart was racing.
It hadn’t been about one of the kids. It had been a wrong number.
He hung up the phone, fell back in the bed. Nothing to worry about. His heart pounded as he stared up at the dark ceiling and felt the world around him start to crumble. The soft breathing, the song in the background. He could almost smell her perfume. Shelby. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he just had a call from a dead woman.
Chapter Seven
Early the next morning, Rourke heard a vehicle coming up the road to the cabin. One of the reasons he’d chosen this place to stay was because he could hear and see anyone coming. No surprises. He went to the back porch and watched Cash’s patrol car wind its way up the mountainside.
The other reason he’d wanted to stay here was the solitude, the beauty, the stark difference between this country and a prison cell.
Having spent too many nights locked up, he’d slept under the stars last night in a bedroll on the beach in front of the cabin. The moon had been almost full. He’d watched it rise over the lake in a kind of breathless awe, feeling the night breeze against his face, feeling alive for the first time in more years than he could remember.
But it had proved to be a restless night, haunted with memories. He’d dreamed about Blaze. And worse, Cassidy. He regretted not taking Blaze up on her offer. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Morning,” Rourke called in greeting to his brother as Cash climbed out of the patrol car. “Tell me you brought doughnuts.”
Cash smiled as he pulled a large box out with him and headed up the steps. “You realize that’s a cliché, cops and doughnuts.” He handed Rourke the box.
“Right.” Rourke could smell the doughnuts in the bag perched on top of the stacks of papers in the heavy box. “Chocolate covered with sprinkles?” He let out an oath as Cash nodded. “I could kiss you.”
“Don’t,” Cash warned as he pushed open the door for Rourke and followed him inside.
“I made coffee,” Rourke said. “You have time for a cup?”
Cash shook his head. “There’s a copy of the case file in the box, along with copies of the trial transcript.”
Rourke shot him a look. There was no way Cash could have gotten his hands on a copy between last night and this morning. That meant he’d had it all along, had searched, as Rourke planned to, for the real killer.
“Listen,” Cash was saying, “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
Rourke put down the box on the table and turned to his brother. Cash and J.T. had always been the serious ones, the McCalls who worried and stewed, the responsible, sensible ones. “If you’re going to tell me not to look into the murder—”
“No, that would be a waste of my breath,” Cash said with a rueful smile. “Just…just be careful.”
Rourke stared at his brother. “You think the killer is still around, don’t you.”
“I just know there were a lot of hard feelings over Forrest’s death and some of what came out at the trial,” Cash said. “Digging that all up again could be dangerous. You remember how Forrest’s brother was? Well, Cecil’s crazier now.”
Rourke smiled. “Why can’t you admit you don’t believe I killed Forrest?”
“Because I’m a cop and I go by evidence, Rourke. Bring me some evidence to the contrary,” Cash said, and turned to leave. “Enjoy the doughnuts.”
And Rourke was the bad boy McCall.
After Cash left, Rourke ate the doughnuts as he considered the huge box full of paper. The doughnuts took him back to a time when he and his brothers would roughhouse in the mornings, having pillow fights and squirt-gun battles, which Martha, the ranch’s longtime housekeeper, would break up with the promise of chocolate doughnuts.
He cherished the memory as he finished the last crumb, the smell, the taste, taking him back to his boyhood.
Finally he looked in the box on the table. It contained the reasons he’d gone to prison. Was it possible it also contained some missed fact that would clear his name and free him from the past? He knew the chances weren’t good or Cash would have already found it.
For the better part of the day, Rourke went through every scrap of paper in the box. Head aching, he realized as he turned over the last sheet that he’d exhausted the possibility of finding a missed clue.
No wonder no one had believed his innocence.
He put everything back into the box and stared at it. The plan came out of nowhere and yet he knew it had probably been percolating for eleven years. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
CASSIDY WENT INTO work as if it was just another day. Her eyes were puffy from crying and she felt horrible, but she put on a little makeup to try to cover it, and a smile. While she probably didn’t fool anyone, she was glad she’d come in to work.
The café was packed, obviously with some who were hoping Rourke McCall was going to come in and threaten her again, only this time with a shotgun. What they didn’t know was that Rourke’s hold on her didn’t require a gun.
Rourke didn’t show up at all.
But Blaze did. Good old Blaze. She came in and sat at the counter.
“What can I get you?” Cassidy asked, dropping a menu in front of her cousin.
“Just coffee,” Blaze said, eyeing her intently. “Are you wearing makeup?”
Cassidy didn’t reply as she put a cup of black coffee in front of Blaze and left.
Blaze didn’t even finish her coffee, Cassidy noticed when she came back by and found her cousin gone. Nor did Blaze leave a tip. Predictable.
As she glanced out the window, she saw Rourke pull up in front of the Antelope Development Corporation and get out. Jealousy raised its ugly head, making her sick to her stomach. This was how she used to feel when she’d see Rourke with Blaze. She turned away as he entered ADC, the door closing behind him. She wouldn’t go through this again.
“Is everything all right?” Ellie asked.
“Fine,” Cassidy lied.
The bell dinged over the door and she looked up to see the owner of the Mello Dee Lounge and Supper Club come through the door. Les Thurman brushed a lock of gray hair back from his forehead and headed straight for the counter and her.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “Place is busy this morning.”
“Good morning.” Cassidy could feel him seeing through the makeup and her own cheerful greeting.
“You all right?” he asked. He had a fatherly way about him and had always been kind to her, especially when it came to anything to do with Rourke McCall. Everyone in town must have known how she felt about Rourke—except Rourke. Les had been behind the bar that night at the Mello Dee and no doubt overheard the guys at the bar giving her a hard time about Rourke before the fight broke out.
Now Les glanced toward the front window and Rourke’s pickup parked in front of Blaze’s office. “If you’re dead set on a McCall, consider Cash. He’s good and solid. He could make you happy.”
She felt herself blush. “The only thing I’m dead set on is getting you some breakfast.”
“Sorry. None of my business. I’ll take the special,” Les said, and picked up a copy of the newspaper lying on the counter. “Keep your nose out of other people’s business, Thurman,” he mumbled loud enough for her to hear.
She laughed as she hurried off to put in his order.
BLAZE LOOKED UP from behind her desk, unable to hide her surprise at finding Rourke McCall standing in her office doorway. She glanced to the street in time to see Easton drive away. Had Rourke purposely waited until Easton left the office, until he was sure she was alone? Blaze would bet money on it, she thought as she waited for Rourke to make his move.
“What exactly does Antelope Development Corporation develop?” he asked, coming into the office and closing the door.
She leaned back in her chair and watched him walk around the office. He picked up several pieces of paper from the edge of Easton’s desk, glanced at them, then dropped them.
Although his movements didn’t seem threatening, she fe
lt a sudden stab of concern. The receptionist must not be at her desk. Otherwise, she would have announced Rourke. That meant Blaze was alone with him and no one knew he was here. Including Easton.
She realized Rourke was waiting for an answer. She smiled, trying to hide the fact that she felt suddenly uneasy. Any sign of weakness could be seen as guilt, she reminded herself.
“Land development.”
“Coal-bed methane gas leases,” he countered.
She nodded, hearing the distaste in his voice. “Antelope Flats is growing,” she said, sounding too perky, as if trying too hard. She could see that he’d noticed. “Methane gas is the future of this town.”
“That’s too bad,” he said.
She smiled up at him as if to make it clear that she didn’t care about all this business stuff. She’d worn a robin-egg-blue dress that clung to her curves today.
Easton’s eyes had practically popped out of his head when he saw her. She’d flirted with him a little, just to make him feel better.
But it had been hard to hide her delight when he told her he had to go into Sheridan to meet with some coal-mining executives. She could tell he hated to leave her alone in the office. Too bad he hadn’t seen Rourke come in.
“So what brings you out this early in the morning?” she asked. She hadn’t been sure she would see him again after the way he’d acted yesterday evening. He hadn’t called her apartment later last night. Nor had he stopped by. She’d started doubting her control over him. She should have known he couldn’t stay away from her.
But what bothered her was the feeling that he hadn’t come here to try to get her into bed. And that wasn’t like the Rourke McCall she’d known. She feared she didn’t know this one at all and that could be her downfall.
How would she know what was going on with him and Cassidy? With him and Forrest’s murder? The more she thought about it, the more worried she was that Easton was somehow involved. He’d been acting…scared, and that wasn’t like him. What else could it be but Rourke getting out of prison?
