by Linda Warren
She chewed on the inside of her lip. “The resemblance between you and the Braxtons is too big a coincidence to ignore.” She paused. “The Braxtons have back hair and blue eyes—just like you.”
“You have the wrong man, Ms. Donovan,” he repeated, not even blinking.
She held his gaze. “Prove it.”
He sucked in a breath at her audacity. “I know who my parents are. Believe me, there were times when I wished they weren’t, as all kids do, but I’m stuck with them. My father had black hair and blue eyes. It’s not indigenous to one family.”
“A simple little test, Mr. Hayes, could ease Mrs. Braxton’s mind. After all these years she’s still desperate to find her son. I just want to help her, and hopefully, it won’t be at your expense.”
“I see no need for a test. I’m not her son.”
“If you change your mind, you have my card.” She headed for her car, then swung back. “I’m sorry about the comb.”
He didn’t answer and she made her way back to the city. She didn’t call Mrs. Braxton. She decided to give Brodie some time. It was a very complicated situation and Alex knew she was being pulled more and more into it.
She couldn’t shake that feeling growing inside her—that Brodie was wrong.
B RODIE TOSSED AND TURNED , unable to get Alex Donovan out of his mind. An investigator—that was the last thing he’d expected. But he knew from the start that she wasn’t a girl out for a good time. She was out to destroy his life.
Not her exactly, but her client. And just because he had black hair and blue eyes! He knew who he was. There were no doubts about that. He sat up in bed as something occurred to him. Alex had said the woman was desperate. What if Mrs. Braxton tried to contact his mother? She’d found him so there would be no problem in finding his mother. In Claudia’s fragile health that could be disastrous.
He had to make sure that never happened.
In the morning he drove into Dallas to find Alex Donovan. If a simple test would keep Mrs. Braxton away from his mother, then he’d do it. He didn’t want someone continually hounding his mother or him.
He found the office without a problem. It was a small building that housed several businesses. Donovan Investigations was on the bottom floor and the door was open. Workmen were going in and out. He was about to leave when he saw her talking to one of the guys.
He watched her for a moment. She talked with her hands and her face was animated. He felt a hitch in his throat. From the first moment he set eyes on her, he knew she was different. His instincts were right on target. He just wished his heart didn’t do a dog paddle when he looked at her.
Surprise filtered across her face when she noticed him.
“Mr. Hayes.” She walked to him, her hips moving with an easy tantalizing rhythm.
“I’ve decided to take the test.” He came right to the point, ignoring that sparkle in her eyes.
“Oh. Sure. I’ll set it up and I’ll get a card with the address.” She hurried into an office and came back with a business card in her hand.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, handing it to him. “Mrs. Braxton will be very grateful.”
“I’m not doing this for Mrs. Braxton.” He wanted to make that very clear. “I figured if she found me she could easily find my mother, who is not in the best of health. I will not have her harassed by an insane woman who thinks I’m her long lost son.”
“Mrs. Braxton might be desperate, but she wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah. Like you wouldn’t enter my home under false pretences and steal to get my DNA. I want to stop this now before my mother gets involved.”
“The reason I did that was so you wouldn’t have to know. I am sorry.”
Those brown eyes begged him to understand, but he turned away. “There’s no need to contact me after this. Just give Mrs. Braxton the results and we’re done.”
“Mr. Hayes…”
He swung back to her. “That’s it, Ms. Donovan. I don’t want to see you again.”
Chapter Four
Brodie had lunch with Cleo and his mother. Although he tried to push the DNA test from his mind, it kept nagging at him. He wondered why Mrs. Braxton thought he was her son. Maybe she wasn’t stable, and looked for her son in every black-haired, blue-eyed man she saw.
Claudia went to lie down for a nap. Brodie helped Cleo take the dishes to the kitchen.
“Great chicken-fried steak, Cleo.”
“You’re easy to please. Claudie’s so picky.”
Brodie leaned against the cabinet as Cleo methodically stacked the plates side by side in the dishwasher and slipped the silverware into the slots. “Mother and I have been talking about when I was kid,” he said matter-of-factly. “You were with my mother when I born, right?” He hadn’t anticipated asking his aunt this question. The words just slipped out of their own volition.
She glanced up for a brief second. “Sure was. I was separated from husband number two and Claudie called wanting to stay with me while she had her baby. Tom was on some sort of special assignment in Germany and couldn’t leave, but he wanted you born in the States.”
Brodie folded his arms across his chest as more questions filled his mind. “Were you in the room with her?”
Cleo put soap in the dispenser and closed the door. “Yes. You know how your mother’s afraid of being alone. I stood right by her side, holding her hand as you came into the world. Tom was on the phone and I was talking to him while trying to soothe Claudie. Tom was so happy when I told him it was a boy.”
The knot in his gut eased. “Mother didn’t stay in Dallas long after that, did she?”
“Good heavens, no. She couldn’t wait for Tom to see you. You had a thatch of black hair and beautiful blue eyes just like your father.” Cleo wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “You must have been a week old when Claudie flew to Germany. When I talked to her later, she said Tom was enthralled with you.”
Brodie made a face. “But not so much as I grew older.”
“Sweetie, he was disappointed you were so hell-bent on the rodeo, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t proud.”
“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that.”
Cleo clicked her tongue. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” He followed her into the den. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a photo album. “Take a look at this.”
He sat on the sofa and flipped through the album in awe. There were newspaper clippings of his rodeo triumphs through the years. His parents had kept track of his life—his successes. For a moment he was speechless.
“Tom was never good at showing his feelings, but you were his son and he was proud of you.”
He touched a clipping from the national finals in Vegas. “He’d told me that in Vegas, but I thought they were just words he felt he had to say.”
“Brodie, both your parents love you.” She eyed him for a moment. “Why are you thinking of all this now?”
He closed the album. “As I said, Mother and I have been doing a lot of talking and I was wondering how our lives got so out of control that I had to leave to make my own way in the world.”
“Tom, God rest his soul, was a hard man. He believed his way was the right way and he didn’t leave you many choices.”
“Yeah. I guess I was as hard and stubborn as he was.”
“Mmm.” She carried the album back to the cabinet. “I’m glad you and Claudie are getting along better now.”
“Me, too.” And he meant that. All the years of estrangement had certainly strained their relationship—there would always be some tension between them. But he was now able to talk to his mother without his stomach coiling into knots. At least sometimes.
&nb
sp; “They love you. Never doubt that.”
He nodded. Part of him finally believed that.
“Now we just have to find a woman to love you.”
He grinned. “I can find plenty of those.”
“Brodie Hayes, you bad boy.” Cleo wagged a finger at him. “I mean a forever kind of love that produces babies and happiness.”
All of a sudden he saw Alex Donovan’s face, her soft brown eyes and kissable mouth.
“Do you think there’s such a thing as real happiness?”
“Heavens. Don’t ask me. I certainly never found it, and believe me I tried. But you, with that face, that dimple and those gorgeous eyes—a woman is just waiting to worship at your feet.”
His mouth twitched. “Not exactly what I had in mind.” He stood. “I’ll head back to the ranch. Tell Mother I’ll call her later.”
Cleo studied him, her eyes narrowed. “You know Melvin has a friend who has a niece….”
“No. No blind dates.” He reached for his hat.
“Suit yourself, cowboy.”
Brodie left feeling much better. He never realized he had a germ of doubt about the DNA test, but after talking to Cleo it was gone. He was not Helen Braxton’s son.
T WO WEEKS LATER Alex sat at her desk looking at the DNA results. Ninety-nine point nine. Brodie Hayes was Helen Braxton’s biological son. She took a moment for that to sink in while she ran her sweaty palms down the thighs of her jeans. How did she tell Brodie this kind of news? For she knew she had to tell him first.
Mrs. Braxton and her family were going to be ecstatic, but it was going to tear apart Brodie’s world. Could she do that? For a brief second she had an urge to let sleeping dogs lie. This was going to hurt so many people, especially Brodie.
Alex had been hired by the Braxtons and she shouldn’t even be thinking about Brodie and his feelings. She was human, though, and this wasn’t going to be easy on anyone.
There were so many unanswered questions—like how Travis Braxton ended up with the Hayes family? Where was the real Brodie Hayes? As a detective she wanted to delve deeper to find the truth, but right now all she could think was that this news was going to shatter Brodie.
B RODIE TWIRLED THE ROPE over his head and sailed it deftly toward a post. It landed squarely over its mark and he yanked the rope tight.
“Wow,” Joey Henshaw said. Joey’d been bitten with the rodeo bug. During the summer, the young boy who lived on a neighboring ranch helped Brodie keep the Cowboy Up running. He was full of questions about the rodeo and eager to learn as much as he could.
Brodie remembered that feeling of being full of dreams and hopes, of being ten feet tall and bulletproof. There was nothing he couldn’t do. The world was his rodeo.
But what happened when the dream was accomplished? What happened after the victory? Where was the happiness? Shouldn’t that be his reward for surviving and beating the odds in such a grueling, competitive sport? He felt there had to be more to life than just living day-to-day.
But he’d done things his way against his parents’ objections. He had to win. There was no other recourse for him. He’d had to prove himself, not to his parents, but for his own satisfaction and happiness.
As Joey swung the rope above his head and aimed for the post, Brodie wondered if he was still trying to do that. To prove to himself he’d been right in the decisions he’d made. That was important to his peace of mind.
“Look, Brodie,” Joey shouted. “I roped it. If I keep practicing, maybe I can get as good as you, Colter Kincaid and Tripp Daniels.”
“That’s a big dream, kid.”
“I know.” Joey kicked at the dirt with his boot. “Tripp does magic with the rope. He can make it go exactly where he wants it to. And, Colter, he’s just great.”
“It takes a lot of practice.” Brodie remembered all the days they’d practiced, over and over. Three cowboys bound by friendship, determined to make a success of their lives. They all roped, but it was clear early on that Tripp and Colter were the more talented in that area. To win, their timing had to be perfect. Brodie’s forte was riding the big bulls.
“But I’ll never be able to ride a bull like you.”
Brodie jerked Joey’s hat low. “That takes guts, practice and a little insanity.”
Joey grinned. “I got guts and my sister says I’m crazy.”
They stopped talking as plumes of dust headed their way. Amidst the cloud was a Jeep. Alex Donovan. What the hell did she want?
“That’s it for the day, kid. Your dad probably has chores for you to do.”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” Joey swung over the fence, grabbed the reins of his horse and galloped away across the pastures to his parents’ ranch.
The Jeep rolled steadily toward the corrals. He didn’t want to think about what this visit meant. He just wanted to get rid of her.
She stepped out in tight-fitting jeans. A white tank top outlined her full breasts. The sun glistened off her blond hair and kissed her long arms and slim neck. Her pale olive skin contrasted deeply with her hair. It drew his eyes like a magnet. He didn’t take any pleasure in that reaction.
This woman was bad news. Real bad news.
She climbed the fence. “Mr. Hayes, may I speak with you, please?”
He picked up the rope from the ground, taking his time looping it into a circle. After that, he placed it on the post and slowly walked toward her.
“Ms. Donovan, you and I have nothing to say to one another. I thought I made that very clear.”
“You did, and I’m sorry, but I have to speak with you.”
That anxious tone in her voice curled his stomach muscles into a tight rope of pain. Years ago he had that same reaction when he was about to ride a bull that was known to be meaner than the devil. Just like back then, he took a deep breath and was ready to face whatever he had to.
He walked to the gate and met her by the bench under the oak tree. Without a word she handed him a piece of paper.
“I don’t know how else to do this, but that’s the DNA results.” She paused. “You’re Helen Braxton’s biological son.”
Without looking at the paper, he handed it back to her. “There has to be a mistake. I spoke with my aunt and she was with my mother when I was born. She never left her side until my mother boarded a plane with me for Germany to be with my father. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but you have the wrong man. I resent this intrusion into my life.”
“I deeply apologize, but DNA doesn’t lie.”
He whipped off his hat and slapped it against his leg. “Lady, just stay out of my life.” He swung toward the corrals.
“You know something’s not right or you wouldn’t have asked about your birth.”
Her words stopped him in his tracks. “Go away and leave me in peace.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Travis Braxton was born five days after you in the same hospital and—”
He glared at her. “That means nothing. My mother had taken me home by then.”
“There’s a connection, Mr. Hayes. I feel it and so do you. Don’t you want to know the truth?”
“No.”
“You’re lying. You’re a fighter, a survivor and you’re not going to rest until you know what happened all those years ago.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough.”
He sucked in a breath that felt as hot as the sun that seared his skin. “Please leave.” He took a couple of steps and turned, his eyes catching hers. “Have you told the Braxtons?”
“No. I thought you deserved to know first.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I know this has to be a shock.”
“You don’t know the half of it. I’ll be forty in October and you’re telling me that my whole life has been a lie. There’s some mistake. I want the test done again.”
“Sure. I don’t blame you.”
That concerned look in her eyes threw him. Why did she care about him? He wasn’t her client.
“And I’d like to talk to my aunt again just to clear up any misunderstandings.”
“Sure.”
“And I’d rather Helen Braxton not know until after the second test.”
“Okay.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re being very agreeable.”
“I want to make this as easy as possible on everyone.”
“Why do you care, lady?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, I know it has to be traumatic to have your world turned upside down.”
“Are you talking from experience?”
A smile flashed across her face. “My world is always upside down. I seem to be hanging on by my fingernails.”
“To me, you look like a lady who can cope.” His eyes met hers and he realized they were flirting, getting personal—something he didn’t want to do.
“I’m a Donovan. I’m supposed to have grit in my backbone, and in some other places, too. My father wanted a boy and he got a girl, so I’ve been conditioned to cope with just about anything.”
“Could you cope with finding out that you’re not a Donovan?”
She grimaced. “That would be upsetting, and I can empathize with you.”
“Don’t,” he said. “When the second test is done, we’ll have the truth.”
She laid the paper on the bench and the summer breeze ruffled the blond strands around her face. Quickly brushing them back she said, “I’ll leave this copy with you. You might want to read it. It’s ninety-nine point nine. You are Helen Braxton’s son.”
