“I want to find my birth mother. And my father, if possible.”
“After all of these years? Why?”
Her face paled. “I’ve been a nobody long enough.”
Riley winced guiltily, realizing it was the description Ray Jennings had used earlier this week.
Emmy, lost in her own thoughts, missed his reaction. “It’s time, Riley. Crucial pieces of my identity are locked in the past. I won’t find them unless I can locate my birth family.”
“If you ask me, I’d say you’ve grown up pretty well without any help from them. You can’t relive the past, Emmy. Believe me, it’d be a huge mistake to try.”
“You don’t have a clue, Riley. You can trace your heritage back to when Caddo Lake was formed and this area was being settled. Anyway, it’s not up for debate. I’ve decided to start a search, and that’s that.” Her jaw stubbornly set, Emmy yanked open the truck door.
He could say he knew all about the hell you created when you mixed past and present, but it was something he hated to discuss. “I’ll say one more thing on the subject. Before you plunge into this, take a good look at what Tessa Lang’s digging in the past has done to Jed.”
“There’s no comparison. And Jed did not kill Mom Fran.”
“I know that.” Riley’s expression grew wary. “But who did?”
“Good grief, I have no idea. If I did, I wouldn’t have waited nineteen years to tell someone. Are we going to go eat or stand here all night bickering?”
A smile reminiscent of the old Riley slid over his face. “Some things never change. Your mind was always on your next meal. I never understood how you could pack away so much food without gaining an ounce. If you haven’t changed on that score, you’re nothing like any woman I’ve ever taken out to eat.”
“You aren’t taking me out. I’m cooking, remember?”
“Yes, ma’am, and I owe you. Emmy,” he said, turning serious again. “Are you sure you’re up to Alanna’s endless chatter?”
“That reminds me.” Emmy sobered, too. “The other night at the market, you told me not to encourage Alanna’s visits. She’s eager to come over, and I enjoy having her. In fact, I picked up some children’s books to read to her. But I don’t want to go behind your back. If you truly object, I’ll do what I can to discourage her visits. Everything short of being rude, that is.”
“The other night, it occurred to me you might only be passing through Uncertain on your way elsewhere. That’s why I may have seemed . . . negative. I know Alanna is lonely. Mrs. Yates is competent, but she’s not—well, grandmotherly.”
“Neither am I. By the way, how come Alanna isn’t in preschool? She’s sounding out words.”
“Uncertain has no preschool. I’d have to drive her to Jefferson three days a week and pick her up midday. My schedule is unpredictable. I never know when I’ll have to be in court or extend a meeting with a client.”
“It’s not my business, but Mrs. Yates has a car. I should think she’d be happy to drive Alanna to school.”
Riley laughed shortly. “It’s easy to tell you aren’t up on the way housekeepers operate. Their list of don’ts is ten times longer than their list of dos.”
“Boy, everywhere I’ve worked the employer set the rules.”
“This town doesn’t have an overabundance of nanny types.”
“Mom Fran really was one in a million, wasn’t she? I still can’t believe someone murdered her.” Emmy choked up suddenly.
Riley curved a hand around the back of Emmy’s neck and rubbed his thumb lightly under her chin. “There’s no reshaping the past, Emmy. The best you can hope now is that Logan Fielder finds her killer.”
Emmy shivered. “And that it’s no one we know.”
“Hey, lady. Those shrimp you promised aren’t going to cook themselves. Plus, we’ve been standing here so long, these folks leaving the pub are beginning to speculate.”
Emmy pulled away from Riley’s soothing touch. “Give me half an hour to assemble the meal. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to eat on the back porch. I’ve missed the lake sounds. As a kid, I could sit and listen to night noises for hours.”
“I remember. Alanna likes them, too. She also likes helping in the kitchen. Would you be willing to let her set the table? It’s one thing she does reasonably well. Just so I don’t come empty-handed, I’ll bring the wine. I think I have a Chardonnay.”
“If you’d prefer we not drink in front of Alanna, I have iced tea and soda.”
“Alanna knows I drink occasionally. I can hold my liquor, Emmy.” He sounded defensive.
“I noticed your beer at Jake’s was nonalcoholic. Jed and Will sneaked beer, but you never did. Will told me the deputies routinely stopped you and shook you down for signs of alcohol misuse, solely because you’re Native American.”
“They don’t do that anymore,” he said coolly.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. But I . . .” She hesitated. “I read recently that alcohol is the biggest problem facing reservations. Hey,” she said suddenly, “Cassie told me your mom lives in Oklahoma on the Caddo reservation. If life there’s so bad, I’m sure you’d move her back here with you. In fact, why haven’t you?” Emmy frowned slightly. “It seems to me that would solve the problem of Mrs. Yates. I can’t picture a more perfect grandmother than your mom.”
“Can’t you? Then you’ve forgotten what my home was like. Mom and Josey never came into the twentieth century, to say nothing of the twenty-first.”
“I loved your home, Riley. There was always a pot of some wonderful-smelling food on the stove. Neva and Josey know everything there is to know about making crafts. Between them, they have tons of talent. Has Josey taught Alanna to weave with lake reeds?”
“My daughter can be a doctor or a lawyer or . . . any other profession she chooses.”
“Yes. Or she could throw beautiful pots or weave baskets, like your mom and Josey. What’s gotten into you, Riley? It makes no sense to withhold such a rich heritage from your child.”
“There’s my point, Emmy. She’s my child. To raise in the manner I see fit. Please leave my family out of future conversations with Alanna.”
“But Cassie said Josey lives in Marshall.” Emmy waved a hand. “Twenty minutes away.”
“We haven’t spoken since Lani died. Lani and Josey—together, they . . . Well, never mind. Are we clear on the matter of my request?”
“Yes.” Emmy drew the word in on a long breath. She didn’t understand. She’d counted Josey among those nearest and dearest of all she’d lost. But there wasn’t any sense in bucking Riley. The stony look on his face made her heart ache.
“I’ll see you at the house. Relax, okay? I won’t overstep my bounds. We have lots to talk about. That’s something I really missed, Riley—our long talks. We could tell each other anything.”
A beat or two went by before he finally inclined his head, offered a passable smile and carefully placed Emmy’s dart case on the passenger seat of her pickup. He didn’t have to say things had changed between them. Emmy read the sad truth in his eyes right before he turned and walked away.
When she’d left home that afternoon, she’d held such high hopes for their evening. Unrealistic expectations—her biggest downfall according to a raft of social workers. Hadn’t she learned by now?
She had. “But damn it all. For just one more night, I’m going to pretend Riley Gray Wolf is still the man of my dreams.”
Chapter Six
Dinner went a lot more smoothly than Emmy had expected, given the way she and Riley had parted. Alanna was so excited about eating at Emmy’s, she livened the evening with her run-on patter. The child certainly didn’t lack imagination.
When she’d shopped that day, Emmy had bought a catnip ball for Egypt. Alanna cleaned her plate as fast as she could in order to pl
ay with the cat.
Emmy and Riley finished their meal at leisure. Together, they cleared the table. Going to check on Alanna, they found her on the couch curled around Egypt. Girl and kitten were fast asleep.
“Now’s when we need that wine,” Riley said softly to Emmy. “We didn’t have an opportunity at dinner to discuss old times. I’m sorry Alanna dominated the conversation. It was good of you to let her, Emmy. Some people would say she should be seen and not heard.”
“I lived in a few homes like that,” Emmy murmured. “I think it sends a message that a child has no value. Around Mom Fran’s dinner table, we all jabbered at once and she never scolded us. I missed those times so much,” she said with feeling.
“Jed mentioned you had it rough after Social Services took you away. Since the emissaries of the state pretended such concern about leaving you here under Jed’s supervision, why on earth would they place you with nomadic circus performers?”
“Goodness! They didn’t. The circus came much later. Actually, I was eighteen and still a seething mass of anger inside. Hitching cross-country was my way of rebelling against anybody representing authority. Circus folks are like a big family, though. It’s not the hard-knock life you might think. Mostly, they’re friendly people who love what they’re doing. I give them credit for helping me through a bad period. With the attitude I had when I left Texas, I could’ve ended up in awful trouble.”
“I wish you’d come back to Uncertain then. Why didn’t you?”
“Jed and I agree there’s no point in flogging ourselves with should-haves,” she said with finality. “If you’re okay with letting Alanna sleep here, Riley, we’ll have coffee on the porch. I started a pot earlier.”
“She’s out like a light. Coffee sounds good. I take mine black.”
“I remember.” Emmy hurried to the kitchen to turn on the coffeemaker, with Riley following her. A couple of minutes later it was ready, and she poured two mugs full. Handing one to Riley, she added four heaping teaspoons of sugar to hers.
“Holy cow, woman, it’s a wonder you don’t have diabetes,” Riley exclaimed.
She glanced up sharply. “Does excessive sugar intake cause diabetes? Isn’t it genetically passed along? How would I know if I had a tendency toward it?”
“I’m no doctor. Blood tests? You’ve had your blood sugar checked, haven’t you?”
Shrugging, Emmy preceded him to the porch. “Isn’t it a gorgeous night?” She adeptly dropped the subject. “Although last night I noticed how a full moon creates all sorts of creepy shadows down around the lake. It’s the way moonlight filters through the Spanish moss on the cypress trees. They seem alive.” Emmy stopped and blew on her coffee. “Before I read about Fran’s murder, I never worried about shadows and stuff. But what if the person who killed her still lives nearby?”
Riley set his cup on a wicker coffee table. He peered through the screen that closed out little more than the fireflies. Emmy sank down on one end of a matching wicker settee. Facing her again, he asked unexpectedly, “Will that contraption hold us both?”
“It feels sturdy. Sit beside me. It’ll make me feel safer while you give me your theory on the murder.”
Riley was far more interested in getting close to Emmy than he was in talking. The prospect of exploring the mystery of her rainbow tattoo enticed him more than speculating about an old murder. Or maybe it was just the full moon, confusing him. No doubt about it, though. That damned rainbow intrigued him.
Time and again, his gaze had locked on the flaming arc as Emmy cooked and served dinner. He’d even found himself reciting the colors of the rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue . . . He’d bitten his tongue more than once, straining to get a glimpse of indigo and violet, colors that never quite rose above the edge of Emmy’ s scooped neckline.
“Um, what did you say?” he asked, casually sliding his left arm over the back of the settee as he reached for his cup with his right hand.
“I said I have to go in and talk to Sheriff Fielder, and I’d rather take an attorney along. Can you recommend someone who’s good but charges fairly?”
Riley’s brow knotted above the steaming mug he held to his lips. “Logan served you a subpoena?” He returned the mug to the coaster with a thump.
Emmy shook her head, her blond hair brushing her bare shoulders and Riley’s arm. “Fielder and a deputy came by here the day I moved in. He asked me a bunch of questions about what I remembered from the day Mom Fran went away. He kept referring to a black notebook. I’m sure it’s information he gathered back when she first disappeared. Frankly, I have only the sketchiest recollection of what I might’ve told him then. It was a horribly confusing couple of days.”
“That’s all you need to say. Logan can ask anything he wants, but you don’t have to answer diddly at an informal questioning. You don’t even have to give another statement. As a matter of fact, you can say no to his invitation.”
“You’re kidding? He made it sound like an order.”
“It’s his job to revisit as many of the principals as possible now that he has a case. But technically, you don’t have to cooperate unless he arrests you and charges you with something.”
“Great. Like I want to go to jail. I prefer to cooperate, Riley. Sheriff Fielder is barking up the wrong tree trying to pin Fran’s murder on Jed. If I can show the sheriff he’s wrong and should look elsewhere, I’ll gladly make ten trips to his office.”
Riley’s attention wandered again. His right index finger strayed to the upper curve of Emmy’s tank top. Her skin felt so soft . . . Although he did his best to listen intently to her staunch support of Jed, he was finding it more difficult by the second. “If you’re sure you have no information implicating Jed in any way,” he murmured, “I’ll advise you, and sit in on your interview with Logan.”
“You will?” Her eyes reflected her relief as she leaned forward to set her cup beside Riley’s. The move was so unexpected, Riley’s finger slipped inside her tank and grazed the plump curve of her breast.
She spun toward him, tensing against the sudden need that licked through her belly. An objection rose to her lips, but not because she wouldn’t like to move in that direction. Emmy realized she wanted to make love with Riley. Just last night she’d dreamed about it.
As their eyes met, she forgot why she’d ever imagined her feelings might be one-sided. His incredibly dark eyes were silvered by moonlight and heavy with desire as he slowly stroked her breast. He bent his head and swept the damp tip of his tongue lightly over her tattoo causing feelings—cravings to grow tighter and hotter inside her—Emmy closed her eyes. Her head tilted to the side, giving Riley greater access to skin that begged for his attention.
And he didn’t disappoint her. He kissed his way up her neck, along her jaw to her mouth, where he lingered long and sweetly before moving down the other side to give the same studied care to her right breast. His hair tickled her lips and her nose, the clean black strands soft against her face.
Suddenly feverish, Emmy worked Riley’s shirt out from the waistband of his pants. Her hands roamed his warm skin, and needed more contact. This was Riley, her foggy brain kept reminding her. She’d made this same exploration a million times in her dreams. But dreams didn’t compare to the real thing—to Riley in the sizzling flesh.
Swallowing a moan, he rucked both of their shirts higher, then started peeling off Emmy’s jeans. He’d never touched skin quite as smooth. No woman’s scent had ever driven him quite as crazy as Emmy’s, who radiated the fragrance of honeysuckle.
“I want you, Emmy. This is right. So absolutely right,” he breathed in the damp crook of her neck as he pulled her astraddle of his lap. His hard, demanding erection strained against the fly of his pants.
Unable to speak, she kneaded his chest, his tense and rigid shoulders. She finally managed a nod right before she helped tug
the knit shirt he’d changed into over his head. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned their first time. Emmy had always imagined a huge bed with crisp, cool sheets, lit by the flicker of a hundred scented candles. A long-held fantasy. She’d take what she could get. Whatever he offered here and now.
He’d already unbuckled and unzipped his pants and shoved the settee cushions onto the floor to better accommodate lovemaking as he settled them both there. Propped above her on arms that labored to keep his heavier weight from crushing her, a heartbeat before he plunged into her, Riley growled, “Are you on any kind of birth control?”
“Yes.” She pulled him toward her. “The pill,” she said huskily. “For a menstrual thing.” Suddenly, she stilled beneath him. “Oh, Riley, that won’t protect—I mean, are you worried about anything else? I’m, uh, not promiscuous. Are you?”
“No. And all I’m worried about, sugar babe, is making this as good as it gets for both of us. We’re too many years overdue. I tried so hard to find you.” He lowered himself slowly until their lips met. His kiss underscored his words. Then he drove into her fast, stroking her breasts as she sheathed him tightly. His body shuddered violently as he withdrew and entered her again.
“Yes, oh, yes,” she cried. Emmy closed her teeth over his earlobe to keep from shattering into a hundred thousand bits. Stars in the sky outside went spinning past the Milky Way. Or maybe it wasn’t outside at all; maybe it was happening inside her head. She’d always known making love with Riley would be pure heaven.
Riley grabbed her hips to hold her still as he strove to slow the rhythm that had taken on a life of its own. His fingers brushed a small rough patch on her left buttock. A birthmark? He stroked the spot again.
Suddenly, Emmy wrapped her legs around his waist. Riley felt something inside him wind tighter and tighter. He sought Emmy’s mouth, his thoughts all jumbled together as mutual need fused them, body and soul.
Heat spread over Emmy’s skin like a wildfire consuming her. Inside, she felt like a volcano on the verge of explosion. Then she did explode. She’d never experienced anything this cataclysmic. “I’ve wanted you forever.”
Uncertain Past Page 10
