by Sheryl Lynn
“Don’t.” He caught her shoulders from behind.
“I thought... I thought last night...the shower...I didn’t know —”
“It’s not you.” He snatched the robe from her hands, shook it out and helped her into it. She dropped the damp towel before tying the belt around her waist.
The muscles in his jaw flared. She studied his stricken gaze, and the way his eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere and anywhere except at her. Her chest hurt and so did her belly, a deep, aching hurt that made each breath agony.
“I understand,” she whispered. The tears were rising, gaining power in a low, slow-burning pressure building in her throat and behind her eyes. If she cried, he would comfort her because he was good and kind. He’d show her the same kindness he’d show any wounded creature.
But that wasn’t love.
“I understand,” she repeated and trudged toward the door.
“Ah, darlin’—”
She thrust out a hand. “I don’t want to discuss this! I made a mistake. I understand that now.”
“It’s not your mistake, it’s mine.”
His? she wondered. How could... The implication struck her like a blow, and she gasped. “There’s someone else. Oh, my Lord, you’re in love with another woman.”
“No!” His entire expression skewed. “I mean, not exactly —”
The door opened and Abby walked in. She held a hairbrush and a scrunchy hair tie. “Daddy, braid my—Hi, Mama.” Bright-eyed, she skipped to Laura’s side. Her smile faded. “You been crying, Mama.” She shot her father a filthy look. “How come you’re crying? Are you sad again?”
Laura stroked Abby’s shining hair. “I’m fine, baby. I’m not crying.”
“You look sad. Daddy looks sad, too. You said you wasn’t gonna be sad no more. How come everybody’s sad?”
Laura knew at any second she was going to burst into a monster crying jag. She forced a smile. “I am perfectly fine. Now let’s get you ready for camp, young lady. Then we’ll all have breakfast together. Okay?” She refused to look at Ryder. If she did, her heart would finish breaking.
“’Kay,” Abby murmured,
Laura hustled Abby out the door and across the staircase landing to her suite. Through sheer force of will she maintained a mild, pleasant air while brushing and braiding Abby’s hair. Then she sent the child downstairs to the kitchen.
While she selected a dress, Ryder rapped on the wall next to the closet doorway. Her back muscles tensed. She wore only panties and a bra.
She glanced over her shoulder. He’d dressed in a checked shirt tucked into his jeans. Damp curls clung to his forehead. He was so handsome it hurt to look at him. She refused to look at him. He was a healthy man, virile and sexy, and she’d been an invalid. She couldn’t blame him for taking a lover.
She’d been a cheater, too. He stayed with her only to keep from losing Abby. He didn’t love her, he’d never love her, and last night she’d been fooling herself.
“You did good with the kid. Thank you.”
“I can’t do this.” She clutched a gray-and-rose print rayon dress to her bosom. “I can’t live like a stranger in my own home. I can’t share you with another woman.”
“There’s no other woman —”
“You said so yourself! You said you love another woman!”
He winced, and a guilty flush spread across his cheeks.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. “I don’t blame you. I’m not condemning you. I know more than anyone that you deserve better than me.”
He took her in his arms. At first she resisted, but his big hands were gentle and firm against her back. His breathing was cool across her damp hair. She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to the comforting thud of his heart.
“I’ve got a bit of a problem right now,” he said, his tone uncertain. “Give me time to work it out.”
“Whatever you want,” she said. “Excuse me, I need to get dressed. I won’t be but a minute.” She squirmed out of his embrace and turned her back on him, tense with unhappiness. She held her breath until he was gone.
She dressed and went downstairs. Somehow, she managed to make it through breakfast. She managed to keep her patience with Abby, who despite Ryder’s and Laura’s assurances, anxiously acted up. She dumped catsup on her eggs, then refused to eat them. She spilled her milk and soaked her sleeves in it. When Mrs. Weatherbee announced it was time to leave, Abby pitched a tantrum.
“I don’t wanna go! I hate summer camp!” She threw herself onto the floor and wailed.
“Now, sugar bear, you love camp and playing with all your friends. Besides, it’s your last day.” Ryder picked her up and she went rigid, shivering and keening. “Abby!”
She knows, Laura thought in horrified dismay. Somehow Abby knows something is terribly wrong. “Put her down, Ryder.”
He scowled.
“She’s pitching a fit for your benefit. Put her down and leave the kitchen. She’ll be all right.”
Abby cut off her screaming in midnote. Wide-eyed, mouth agape, she stared at Laura. Laura arched her eyebrows and checked the wall clock. “You need to leave in ten minutes, Mrs. Weatherbee. Why don’t you get ready? Put her down, Ryder.”
Slowly, reluctantly, he set his daughter on the floor. She started screaming again and pawing at his arms.
“Please leave, Ryder, I’ll handle this.”
“No, Daddy!” Abby caught Ryder’s knees in a bear hug. “She’ll hit me, Daddy! Don’t go away! She’s mean!”
“Ryder, she’s playing to her favorite audience.”
His expression twisted in a mixture of anger, confusion and resignation. He forcibly peeled the child off his legs and swung her onto a stool. Without another word, he stomped out of the kitchen. The door swung back and forth on its hinges.
Abby turned off the screaming and crying.
“Boy, are you mad.” Laura made a soft sound of amazement. “I bet I know why you’re mad.”
Abby sank into herself. Her little fingers twisted restlessly on her lap.
“You’re scared. It scares you when Mama and Daddy are sad. Why does that scare you so much, baby?”
“You’re gonna ’vorce him. You’re gonna take me away and never see my daddy again.”
“I’m not going to do that. I’d never do that to you or your daddy. I love you both too much.”
“You was in his room. Every time you go in his room, you says you’re gonna ’vorce him. You cry and break things and call the other daddy to take you away.”
Imagining what had gone on in this house before her accident sickened Laura. “I’m not going to divorce him, baby.”
“You was crying. Every time you go in his room, you cry and say you’re gonna ’vorce him.”
“Not this time.” She sat on the stool next to Abby’s. “You know your daddy loves you. And you’re the most important thing in the whole wide world to him. You know this?”
Abby nodded.
“Your daddy would fight dragons to keep you safe. He’d never let anybody hurt you. Nobody is going to take you away from him. I won’t let anyone take you away.” She plucked a paper towel off a roll and daubed at Abby’s tear-streaked face. “When you get scared, you can say, ‘I’m scared.’ You don’t have to yell and scream.”
Abby snuffled loudly.
“So you hurry upstairs and brush your teeth. Grab your backpack. Mrs. Weatherbee is waiting.”
Abby snuffled loudly. “Okay, Mama.”
Promises made that might be broken tasted like bile in Laura’s mouth. Laura caught Abby in a hug. The little girl hugged her back as if she never wanted to let her go.
Chapter Ten
Another woman.
Laura’s suspicions drove her crazy. Ugly images and thoughts whirled and swirled, leaving her sick and dizzily off-balance. She could not stop seeing another woman in his arms, another’s lips upon his, another’s hot voice murmuring love talk in his ear—it w
as enough to drive her insane.
After seeing Abby off to camp, Laura went directly to the studio. Ryder was already at work, using a palette knife to lay paint onto a canvas as if burying a demon. His misery hung over the studio like a coating of dull grime. Even the music filling the air was a wailing dirge of broken hearts, straying feet and dying love.
Her self-loathing deepened. They needed to talk; she didn’t trust herself to talk. Her jealousy was too fresh, too ripe with dangerous passions. If she spoke, she might scream or accuse or cry or wail, or something equally horrible.
Ryder glanced at her.
“At least tell me her name.” She’d blurted out the words without thinking. Now they hung in the air, taunting her—jealous shrew! She covered her mouth with her hand.
Ryder dropped his palette on the table behind him. He cocked his hat to a challenging angle. “I’m not having an affair. Damn it, Laura, I’m not a cheater.”
She bit back the urge to argue.
Ryder stalked out of the studio. He slammed the door behind him. Through the big window, she watched him head for the barn.
She entered the office. Miserable, wondering why she couldn’t have lost her voice along with her looks, she glowered at the desk and computer. She trailed her fingers over the items on the desk. Images of her recurring dream rose in her mind.
Running, panting...a ledger. Not a book, a ledger.
Stiff-legged, she approached the desk and placed her hand atop a ledger she’d so laboriously balanced. A ledger...
She picked up the book and clutched it to her chest, exactly the way she held it in her dream.
“Dead!” A woman’s voice echoed in her brain, high and strident and furious. “I want him dead, dead, dead! Right now, do you hear me? I want him dead!”
She held the book tighter, felt ghost pains in her legs as she ran faster and faster—
Knowledge clapped shut around her like a trap. She was seeing herself. She, Laura Hudson, was the screaming woman, and she’d clutched the ledger and screamed her rage.
Mouth dry, heart pounding, palms sweating, Laura rubbed a hand over the heavy smoothness of the faux leather ledger cover. What had so enraged her? Why had she run away with the checkbook ledger...away from whom?
Had she discovered evidence of Ryder’s infidelity? She didn’t want to think in this direction, but the thoughts acquired a life of their own, tripping faster and faster, gaining strength. She’d discovered the identity of his mistress. They’d argued. She’d threatened to leave him. She’d wept and raged and screamed about how much she hated Ryder for being a bounder.
And he’d stopped her from taking Abby away.
She gasped and touched herself, feeling the scar of the gunshot wound. No!
Ryder was gentle, caring, principled and honest. He’d never hurt her.
He’d do anything to protect his daughter.
All her efforts to not think about what exactly anything meant produced only a headache. She sank to a chair, bent over until her face nearly touched her thighs and moaned her misery.
She glanced at the office doorway. Theirs had been a loveless marriage from the very beginning. He’d all but admitted there was another woman. God only knew for how many years the affair had been going on.
Proof. She must have stumbled onto irrefutable proof and then threatened him with divorce. She snatched open a drawer. Ryder maintained several checking accounts. Two used identical ledgers, his business account and the ranch account. She opened both ledgers on the desk top
If she did find proof he’d been seeing another woman, was it proof Ryder had tried to kill her?
She’d figure out that part when she got to it. After another furtive glance at the doorway, she reached under the desk and hit the power switch for the computer.
“JUST GET ON OVER HERE, Tom,” Ryder said, dragging the cowboy along with him toward the studio. He ignored Tom’s protests about needing to finish shoeing a horse. The horse would wait.
“Gone off your fool head,” Tom grumbled, holding on to his hat as he trotted after his boss. “I’ve got thirty-six hours worth of work to do today and you’re acting like a crazy man.”
“Shh.” Ryder eased open the studio door then put a finger against his lips. “Just look. You don’t have to say anything, just look.” He tiptoed between the worktables and sidled up to the office doorway. He pressed a finger to his lips again as an additional warning, then pointed inside the office at Laura.
She sat on the chair at an angle in front of the computer Slouching down on the seat, she had her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Her long skirt draped gracefully, covering her legs to below the calf. The keyboard rested on her lap. In her right hand, she held a pencil and she used it to keep time to the music playing over the speakers.
Abruptly, she shoved the pencil between her teeth and typed rapidly without looking at the keyboard. Images flashed on the screen.
A glance at Tom’s bug-eyed, slack-jawed face filled Ryder with triumph. Who was the loco cayuse with his head full of clouds and nutty notions now? With hand and eye gestures, he urged the man away from the door. The pair sneaked out the way they’d come.
Outside, Ryder exclaimed, “Who did that remind you of?”
Tom lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair. He settled his hat, then fiddled with his shirt collar. He eyed the clouds building to the south over the mountains. Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”
Ryder strode toward the barn. “You’re being a knot head, Tom Sorry. That’s Teresa.”
Tom swung his head from side to side. “Can’t be.”
Inside the barn, Ryder stopped and looked toward the studio. Behind him, horses whickered in curious greeting and shuffled in their stalls. Soothed by the rich, green smells of horses and bay, Ryder leaned his shoulder against a post.
“Do you remember the cut brake lines?” Ryder asked.
Tom faced him squarely. “You pay my wages, so if you want to tell me the moon’s made of green cheese and I’m supposed to believe it, then I’ll speak the words to make you happy. But that don’t mean I believe it.”
Ryder had always admired Tom’s staunch sensibility. At the moment, though, it irritated him. “I never told you what Laura told me. Laura said she caught Tess upstairs trying on clothes.”
Tom snorted in derision.
“Hear me out, now. It sounds foolish in my head. I’ve got to test the words, though.” He cleared his throat. “What if Laura told the truth and Tess had one of those fatal attractions for me or something.” Seeing Tom was about to protest, Ryder held up a hand. “Stranger things have happened. Anyhow, Laura pitches a fit and fires her. Hell, she thought Tess and I were having an affair, anyway. Catching Tess in her closet would have about cinched it.”
“So you think... Teresa came back here to get even?”
Pleased the man was finally getting it, Ryder nodded. “Tess cuts the brake lines. Only that’s not good enough. So she comes back, finds Laura alone, and...”
“Tries to shoot her?”
That part made everything inside him protest. For nearly two years Tess Gallagher had been his angel, his trusted assistant and problem solver. No matter how complicated or screwy a task seemed, she’d handled it with gracious aplomb. He’d never heard a harsh word cross her lips. Her patience had been deep and unrelenting no matter who she’d dealt with, be it his agent or advertisers, flaky gallery owners or temperamental printers.
He’d always been more comfortable around animals than around people. His agent had accused him of being naive as a country bumpkin. He supposed in many ways that was true, but he still couldn’t believe he missed knowing she was murderously crazy.
Ryder heaved a deep breath and stroked his jaw. “Laura wouldn’t give up my money or that house without a good reason.”
“Like she thought she killed Teresa.”
“The ATM card. Laura was the one pulling out cash.”
Tom dropped a big hand on Ryder
’s shoulder. “We’re just playing a game of what if, right? So I’m not saying it’s true or anything, just what if. What if Laura did try to kill Teresa. So she panics and takes off in Teresa’s car. By the time she calms down, she must have read in the paper that Teresa was alive.”
Ryder chewed over the possibility. “I don’t know. She could claim self-defense.”
“After pushing the Mercedes into the quarry?” He huffed a dry laugh. “Newspaper stories said the car got wrecked, then pushed over the cliff.” Tom shrugged. “Only reason she’d have to run would be ’cause she can’t claim no self-defense. So she took Teresa’s car and skedaddled.”
Ryder grew light-headed.
“Maybe you ought to let it drop, boss. Laura, Teresa, whoever she is, she thinks she’s your wife. She’s treating you good, treating the kid good. Why stir up trouble?”
Why, indeed. “Maybe you’re right,” he muttered.
“Some things are best left alone.”
Ryder nodded, but he didn’t believe it. As much as he wanted an uncomplicated life with a loving wife, he couldn’t bear the questions or the possible lies. “I’ll think on it.”
He headed to the tack room. A ride through the forest should clear his thinking. It always did.
As Ryder turned away, Tom said, “Damn it, boss, you’re sure stubborn. You go charging around like a blind bull, and you could end up hurting lots of folks.”
Ryder hunched his shoulders and kept walking. If the woman in his office was Teresa Gallagher, it could demolish his entire world. In one clean stroke he could lose Abby.
His breath caught in his throat. He could lose Tess, too.
WHAT A MESS.
Laura maneuvered through the pages of the spreadsheet program. Up until the time of her accident, the books had been kept properly, most likely by a professional. It appeared that no one had touched them since. Considering the mess she’d been slowly organizing, it looked as if the only thing Ryder had done since her accident had been pay bills. He hadn’t sorted important papers from the junk, or filed anything, or balanced the books. It explained the big box of bills and receipts she’d found one day. Ryder must have dumped everything in a box for an accountant to sort out in order to figure his taxes. Poor accountant.
