“Very funny.”
“Yeah, well, we aim to please.”
“Is Jake with you?”
“You want to be accurate, I’m with Jake at El Sueño. As you’ll be, in a little while … or are you calling to say you’re not gonna make this meeting?”
“Are you in the ranch office? Switch to speaker phone, okay? But shut the door first.”
“Any more instructions?”
Caleb closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
“Travis.”
“Yeah?”
“I want to talk to both of you. And I need to warn you, I’m not in a good mood.”
“Nothin’ new there, pal. You always were too uptight for your own—”
“Trav. I need—I need advice.”
Silence. Then he heard his brother say, “Jake? It’s Caleb.” He heard him say something else, too, but the words were muffled as if Travis had put his hand over the phone.
A second later, he heard the slightly hollow sound that meant Travis had switched to speaker phone.
“Caleb?”
“Jake?”
“Yes. Caleb, Travis says—”
“I, ah, I want to run something by you. Both of you.”
“Sure,” Jake said.
“Sure,” Travis said.
Caleb said nothing. He wasn’t sure how to start, or where to start, or even if he should have made this call.
“Caleb? You there, man?”
He nodded. Cleared his throat. And went for it.
“Say there’s a guy. Meets a woman. Spends, you know, spends a night with her.
“Sounds good so far,” Travis said, chuckling.
“She’s, you know, she’s okay. Pretty. Smart. Fun. She’s—”
“She’s nice,” Jake said helpfully.
Caleb shook his head.
“She’s more than nice. She’s—well, she’s special.”
Silence again. Then, warily:
Jake: “How special?”
Travis: “Special special?”
Caleb got to his feet, walked the length of the airplane.
“Yeah.” His voice sounded hoarse and he cleared his throat. Again. “Anyway, he meets her. And then, some time goes by. A couple of months. And he finds out she’s—he finds out she’s pregnant.”
There was no mistaking the sudden, sharp intakes of breath that came over the line.
“Wait a minute,” Travis said. “They were together only this one time?”
“Right.”
“Not again during those two months?”
“Three. Actually, it was three. And, no, they never saw each other after that night. He had no idea she was pregnant.”
“What,” Jake said, on a huff of disbelief, “she didn’t tell him?”
“No. She couldn’t. She, ah, she didn’t know his last name, didn’t have his address, his phone number …”
“But she claims he knocked her up.”
“He didn’t ‘knock her up,’” Caleb growled. “He made her pregnant.”
In Jacob’s office on the Wilde ranch, two pairs of eyebrows rose.
“And,” Travis said carefully, “and he’s sure he’s the guy who did it?”
“He’s sure.”
“Because there’s been a paternity test?”
“Listen, I didn’t call so you two could run an interrogation, I called for—”
“Advice,” Travis said, signaling wildly to Jake for a pen and paper. Jake shoved both at him. WTF is he talking about? Travis wrote, to which Jake mouthed back, What am I, a mind reader?
Caleb had made his way back up the aisle. He sank into his seat, picked up his drink and finished it.
“Here’s the problem,” he said. “She doesn’t want to do anything he says.”
Travis: “The paternity test?”
“Not that.”
Jake: “You mean, get rid of the—”
“I mean, move out of the rat trap she lives in. Put herself under the care of a top ob-gyn. Let—let this guy buy her things she needs, let him take care of her and, of course, the kid once it’s born.”
“Of course,” Jake said calmly, and clapped his hand to his head.
“He wants to do the right thing,” Travis said, just as calmly, and mimed shooting himself in the temple.
“Exactly. He wants to do the right thing. The logical thing. The responsible thing.”
Silence again. Caleb rose, paced a little more. In Wilde’s Crossing, Texas, Jacob and Travis rose, paced in opposite directions, shaking their heads whenever their paths crossed.
“So,” Travis finally said, “who, uh, who are we talking about here, man?”
“A friend,” Caleb said quickly. Too quickly. He winced. “Just some guy I know.”
“And,” Jake said, “and you, ah, you want our advice?”
“Yes. Because I—I haven’t been too helpful.”
“What did you suggest he do?”
“That’s just it. Nothing she’ll accept. Not yet.”
His brothers looked at each other and pumped their fists in the air.
“Good,” Jake said. “Because, you know, he shouldn’t do anything precipitous.”
Precipitous? Travis mouthed. Jake glared at him.
“Yeah,” Caleb said, “but he has to do something. This is his baby. His woman. I mean, she isn’t his woman, not really, but—”
“Here’s what I think,” Jake said. He sat down at the desk, motioned Travis to do the same. “First of all, he needs to arrange for a paternity test. Then he needs to see a lawyer. Work up the legalities. Like—”
“Like the financial obligation your friend is willing to assume,” Travis said. “For the woman. For the kid.”
“I told you, she doesn’t want—”
“If she really doesn’t want money,” which we strongly doubt, Jake’s roll of the eyes said, “he can set it up as a trust. She taps into it? Fine. She doesn’t? That’s fine, too.”
“It isn’t. It’s not any kind of solution. What if she doesn’t touch it? I would never—my friend would never let her go on living from hand to mouth, or let her raise the child in poverty when it’s absolutely, totally, completely unnecessary.”
“Hell,” Jake said softly.
“Caleb?” Travis cleared his throat. “Do you—does this friend care for her? Or is this about—about being responsible?”
“That’s what it’s about. Being res—” Silence. Then Caleb said, so softly his brothers both leaned toward the phone, “Of course he cares for her. I told you. She’s beautiful. She’s bright. She’s—she’s—”
“Caleb,” Jake said, “listen man, what I said before, about not doing anything—”
“—precipitously,” Travis said. “You need to think. Come home. We can talk—”
“Talking never solved a problem,” Caleb said. “A man needs to take action. You flew ‘copters, Jake. Travis, you flew jets. I … hell, never mind what I did. The point is, things start going bad, a man needs to take action, not talk. And this—this is a thing starting to go bad.”
“Go bad, how?” Jake said softly.
Caleb didn’t answer.
“Caleb,” Travis said, “tell us what’s going on.”
“I did,” Caleb said, very calmly.
He did? his brothers mouthed to each other.
“And you guys helped. You helped enormously.”
“Caleb,” Travis said, “is this about that woman in New York? Dammit, is this about you?”
“Me?” Caleb said with all the indignation he could muster. “You have to be kidding. Would I ever get myself into a mess like this? It’s about a friend. I told you. A good friend.”
“Who?” Jake demanded.
But Caleb had hung up.
Jake depressed the speaker phone button. For an endless moment, neither he or Travis said anything. Then Jake shook his head.
“Oh, man,” he said softly.
Travis nodded. “I couldn’t h
ave put it better myself.”
“Should we go looking for him?”
“Yes. No. Crap. He sounded okay at the end, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. Calm. Very calm.”
“So, what do you think?”
“I think his friend is named Caleb.”
“Yeah. Dammit. So do I.” Jake paused. “What’s he’s going to do?”
Travis considered. Then he sighed.
“Look, the bad news is, this is Caleb. The good news is, this is Caleb. We know how he works.”
“He keeps his emotions close. He never asks for advice.”
“He just did.”
“No,” Jake said, “he didn’t. He wanted to lay out the situation so he could find a solution.”
Silence. Then Travis said, “So, what now? Do we figure out where he is and go after him?”
“If you guys had done that to me after I left Adoré—I mean, Addison—I’d have beaten the hell out of you. And I sure wouldn’t have taken any advice you had to offer.”
“You’re right,” Travis said glumly. “We don’t want to push him.”
“Exactly. Besides, this is Logic-Man. Remember how we used to call him that when we were kids?”
“Yeah,” Travis said, trying his best to sound convinced. “You’re right. Logic-Man will definitely not do anything—”
“Precipitous,” Jake said, and the brothers flashed each other smiles that only they would have recognized as false.
High above the earth, still hundreds of miles from Dallas, Logic-Man stared out the window at a sky filled with puffy white clouds.
A bed of clouds.
As white, as welcoming as the bed he’d shared with Sage hours before.
Sage.
Those angry tears in her eyes when he walked out—
Tears he could have kissed away.
Tears he could have changed with the words he’d felt filling his heart.
Caleb shot to his feet and went to the cockpit.
“Ted?”
“Yes, Mr. Wilde. I was just going to ask Sally tell you the weather’s improved. No need to buckle in or—”
“We’re going back.”
“Back, sir?”
“To New York. To Kennedy Airport. If you need to file a new flight plan, whatever—”
The pilot smiled.
“No problem, sir. Next stop, Kennedy.”
Caleb nodded, returned to his seat, and tried to figure out how to handle the battle that would come next.
By the time they landed, he still didn’t have a clue.
What would he say that could possibly convince Sage he only wanted to do what was right?
She was so damn independent. So quick to get ticked off.
He’d phoned the limo company before the plane touched down. They’d have a car for him in an hour.
Wait another hour, to deal with this mess? To hell with that.
He phoned Hertz instead, rented a car.
“Any special model, sir?”
“Whatever you have that’s fast.”
A long, low, mean-looking sports car was already purring when he climbed into it. The trip to Brooklyn, end-of-the-world Brooklyn, should have taken an hour.
He did it in thirty minutes.
He brought the car to a screeching halt at the curb, right beside a fire hydrant and a couple of kids who looked like they’d stepped out of a reality show about street gangs.
Caleb took out his wallet, extracted two hundred-dollar bills and, tearing them in half, gave a half to each kid.
“The car’s still here, untouched, when I come back, you get the rest. Understand?”
The kids grinned and nodded. Caleb went past them, ran up the steps to the front door, pushed it open and raced up the stairs.
Then he was standing outside Sage’s apartment.
His heart was banging but it didn’t have a thing to do with his gallop up those stairs.
What would he say to her? How could he convince her to stop being so stubborn?
Where was Logic-Man when he needed him?
He took a deep breath.
The logic would come, once he started talking. He was a good talker, especially under pressure. It was one of the reasons for his reputation as a hotshot litigator.
Just do it, he told himself, and he rang the doorbell.
Sage had just come out of the shower.
A shower that had been almost ice-cold.
She’d wrapped herself in her robe, padded, barefoot, to the phone and called the super.
“There’s no hot water,” she’d said, and he’d yawned and said yeah, he’d see what he could do, which she knew pretty much meant he wouldn’t do anything and God, that made her angry and she unloaded on him with everything she had.
It wouldn’t change anything about the hot water, but she figured it was better than being in tears, especially since that was how she’d spent most of the past few hours.
The super was collateral damage.
Caleb was the real target.
Didn’t he understand that she didn’t need what he’d offered? His financial support?
She’d provide for her child and herself, thank you very much.
What she’d wanted from him, what she’d hoped for from him—
The doorbell rang.
So much for the super not doing anything.
Sage looked down at herself. Robe. Bare feet. Wet hair flopping in her face. Not a fashion plate but who cared? Mr. Del Gatto wasn’t a fashion plate, either, not when he wore jeans that gave the world a view it couldn’t possibly want whenever he squatted under the sink.
The bell rang again. A fist pounded on the door.
“Dammit,” she heard Caleb roar, “open this door!”
Sage had always thought phrases like the blood draining from somebody’s head were just examples of overblown prose, but she could feel the blood draining from hers.
Caleb had come back.
“Sage!” The door shook under the pounding of his fist. “Open—the—door!”
She hesitated. Then she took a steadying breath, went to the door, undid the endless locks and saw him standing there, big and hard-looking and angry as hell.
Her eyes narrowed.
What did he have to be angry about?
“What are you doing here?”
He glared at her. She was a mess. Wet, stringy hair. That same old bathrobe. Bare feet …
Rage, more potent than any he’d ever known, swept through him.
“How come this door doesn’t have a peephole?”
“I don’t know,” she said coldly. “You’d have to ask the manufacturer.”
“It’s ridiculous to have to open a door before seeing who’s standing outside it.”
Sage folded her arms.
“Thank you for that report from Consumer Complaints. Is that why you came back? To discuss doors?”
“No. Of course not. I—I—” He swallowed hard. His anger was receding; something was moving in to take its place but he wasn’t sure what it was, except that it scared the hell out of him. “Sage. We need to talk.”
“Try another line, Caleb. I’m all talked out.”
“We need to talk sensibly.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Okay. He was right. They’d done some shouting but little talking and they did, after all, have a shared interest here.
“Five minutes,” she said coolly, and opened the door wider.
Caleb stepped over the threshold and shut the door after him.
“Okay.” He paused, searched for the right words. “For starters, about the financial thing—”
“I’m not going to talk about that again.”
“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Don’t talk. Just listen. I want to take care of you. Is that so terrible?”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
“Maybe not,” Caleb said. “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe taking care of you is what I need …”
Dammit, he t
hought, and he forgot logic, forgot everything except what he felt for the woman standing in front of him, so strong and beautiful she made his soul ache.
He said something rough, pulled her into his arms and kissed her, hard at first and then with heart-stopping tenderness.
“Don’t,” she said, “oh God, Caleb, don’t …”
It was a protest without meaning because she was kissing him back, the salty taste of her tears on his lips and hers.
He held her closer; the race of their hearts merged.
“Sage,” he said thickly, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to say anything to hurt you.” He cupped her face, looked into her eyes. “This isn’t about financial responsibility,” he said. “It’s about us. You. Me. The baby we made together.”
“You’re a good man, Caleb Wilde. I know that you want to do the right thing—”
“I want more than that. I want the real thing.” He brushed his lips over hers. “I want us to be a family.”
“What are you saying, Caleb?”
“Sage.” He took a steadying breath. “Marry me. Be my wife.”
“No,” she said, “no, that’s crazy—”
“Listen to me, honey. We get along fine.”
“Except when we’re shouting at each other.”
“Except then,” he admitted, “but it’s only because you’re as stubborn as I am.”
Was that a smile? A hint of one?
“We respect each other,” Caleb continued. “We’re good together, in bed and out.” He put his hand over her belly. “And we’re having a child,” he added softly. “Seems to me those are decent, solid things to build a marriage on.”
Sage stared into her lover’s eyes. He was right; those were solid things to build a marriage on. The world was filled with people who married for far less.
Except, she wanted more.
Tears rolled down her face.
She wanted his love.
His heart.
She wanted the joy of knowing Caleb would bring her into his life even if she weren’t carrying his child …
Because she loved him.
She loved this honorable, kind, decent, arrogant, impossible man—
“Sage.” He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “I’ll make you happy. I swear it.”
She made a sound that might have been a laugh, but Caleb figured that wasn’t possible because her tears were coming even faster—
Which only proved how right he was about men not understanding women because even as he figured she was going to turn him down, she smiled through that teary deluge, rose on her toes, touched his lips with hers and said, “Yes.”
The Ruthless Caleb Wilde Page 12
