Dalton's Undoing

by RaeAnne Thayne

  "Nobody's going to be out in this weather to be snooping on the neighbors," he assured her. "All the town busybodies are tucked up in their beds dreaming of catching the mayor's wife shoplifting or something. And if anybody's rude enough to ask, we can just tell them the truth. Or if you don't think that's good enough, we can always tell them I loaned my truck to you when your car broke down."

  She didn't look convinced. "It's the ones who won't say anything who worry me most. Those are the kinds of whispers that can destroy a reputation in an instant."

  He couldn't have said why it bothered him so much that she was so concerned about her precious reputation—or that she seemed so convinced he held the power to completely destroy it.

  "You really care about the opinions of some old biddies with nothing better to do than bad-mouth a woman whose only crime is worrying about her sick child?"

  "It's not that simple."

  "What's your alternative? Dragging your father home from Jackson Hole in this weather? I know you don't want to do that."

  "No. There must be some other solution."

  "Not that I can see. I'm staying, Jen. You don't know stubborn until you've taken on a Dalton."

  She opened her mouth to answer but Cole appeared in the doorway, looking from one of them to the other out of curious eyes. He held out a black cordless phone. "Grandpa's on the phone again, Mom."

  She took it from him and Cole disappeared. A moment later, Seth heard his tread on the stairs and assumed the boy had retreated to his room.

  While Jenny was on the phone, Seth took off his coat and hung it on a hall tree in the entryway, then returned to the living room. Jenny'd had the same idea—she'd taken off her hat and scarf and her coat and tossed them over a chair.

  "No, Dad. I don't want you to come home," she said, unbuttoning her cardigan to reveal a formfitting forest green turtleneck underneath. She slipped out of the sweater, and Seth slid onto the couch and stretched his legs out in front of him, enjoying himself immensely.

  She narrowed her eyes at his comfortable pose. "There's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do," she added with a pointed look at Seth.

  He smiled benignly, wondering how much more she might be planning to take off.

  "All right. I'll call you if there's any change, I promise. Yes. Okay. Stay safe. Have fun with your friends and don't lose too much money. I know. You always win. That's why you go. All right. I love you, too, Dad."

  She hung up from her father, set the phone on the coffee table and stood gazing at her bright Christmas tree, looking so dejected Seth almost offered to go find a nice, respectable widow with her own snowplow if it would make Jenny feel better about the situation.

  After a moment, she straightened her shoulders and faced him. He suddenly wanted more than anything to take that grim look out of her eyes, to make everything okay.

  "Your dad is obviously a cardsharp, but how are you at poker?" he asked.

  She blinked, looking a little disoriented. "Sorry?"

  "We're going to be up all night worrying about Morgan and giving her treatments every four hours, but we don't have to be bored. Let's call Cole up to play some cards. What do you say? We can play for pennies or toothpicks or matchsticks or whatever you've got. Unless you think we'd be corrupting the morals of a minor."

  Her laugh was abrupt, but he took comfort that it was still a laugh. "Are you kidding? My dad taught him to play blackjack the minute he was old enough to count. He'll wipe the floor with both of us."

  "Speak for yourself, ma'am. You've never played cards with me. I don't like to lose."

  She sniffed. "I believe I've figured that out by now."

  He laughed, glad that he'd been able to distract her, if only for a moment.

  * * *

  Where was her child?

  Jenny raced through the halls of an unfamiliar hospital, her way strewn with gurneys and hospital equipment and hallways that led nowhere.

  She opened every door but couldn't find Morgan anywhere. Somewhere in this labyrinthian hell was her child, ill and wheezy, but Jenny had no idea where to look. Her baby needed her and she wasn't there for her.

  She begged everyone she passed to please help her, but no one answered. No one at all. Finally, when she was nearly wailing with defeat, she headed down one last, crowded hallway, devoid of doors except for one at the very end, lit by a strange orange glow from within.

  Her child had to be there, she thought, trying to shove her way past uncaring people who blocked her at every turn. She felt so alone, so utterly forsaken. She was so tired of fighting this battle by herself. All she wanted was to curl up and weep out all her pain and frustration, but she had to find her child.

  Suddenly—like a miracle, like the parting of the Red Sea—a path opened up for her through the crowd of people. Someone stood in front of her, someone with shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of all her fears. She couldn't see his face, but her salvation blazed a trail for her and she rushed toward the door. When she reached it, she extended a hand to thank the only person who had helped her.

  He turned and gave her a slow, painfully sweet smile and opened the door for her. Somehow she had known it was Seth, she thought, even as she rushed inside to her child, sobbing with relief to find her healthy and whole, her breathing slow and even.

  She awoke with a start, disoriented by the strange dream.

  She wasn't sure where she was at first, then she realized the orange glow she had dreamed about must have been from the woodstove, where a fire still flickered softly.

  She was in her father's den, curled up on the couch. She frowned, trying to remember why she'd fallen asleep there, then the lingering tendrils of her dream wrapped around her again and she drew in a quick breath.

  Morgan!

  Jenny yanked off the soft knitted afghan she couldn't remember pulling around herself and rose so quickly the room whirled for a moment. She barely waited for the walls to steady before rushing down the hall to her daughter's room, her heart pounding.

  All was quiet there. The alarm clock by the bed told Jenny she'd slept longer than she thought—it was nearly quarter after four. How could she have fallen asleep when her daughter needed her?

  But no. A quick check told her Morgan was sleeping soundly. The oxygen monitor on her bedside table registered a respectable ninety-four. Not fabulous but not terrible, either.

  She let out a low sigh of relief and lifted a trio of stuffed animals from the glider rocker by Morgan's bed so she could take their place.

  Her daughter was due for another nebulizer treatment and though Jenny hated to wake her, she knew it was something neither of them could avoid.

  Poor little thing, to have to endure so much, she thought, as she poured the medicine into the nebulizer then shook her awake.

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you need a treatment."

  Morgan groaned but blinked her eyes open blearily, just long enough for Jenny to fit the mask over her nose and mouth and turn on the machine. Medicated air blew into the mask, forcing its way into her daughter's lungs. Morgan hated that part, she knew.

  "Do you want me to hold you?" she asked.

  Morgan nodded, so Jenny slid into bed with her, cuddling her tight and singing softly to her until the medicine was finished.

  She settled Morgan back into bed and was grateful when she closed her eyes and slipped easily back to sleep.

  Perhaps because of the silly dream and the remembered terror of not being able to find her, Jenny stood for a long time by her daughter's bed, thinking how very much she loved her. Despite what she sometimes had to endure, Morgan was warm and good-natured. An uncommonly kind child, she often thought.

  She couldn't imagine how cold and lonely her life would have been without either of her children.

  Cole might be struggling through his teenage years but she wouldn't trade him for anything. As she finally left Morgan's room, she couldn't help thinking of the evening she, Seth and Cole had spent together and sh
e had to smile.

  She didn't know how Seth had done it, but somehow in the course of the night while they played Five-Card Stud and Acey-Deucy and Texas Hold 'em, he had returned her funny, sweet son to her.

  She knew it was probably fleeting, that in the morning Cole would likely revert to his normal sullen, unhappy self. But for a few hours he had laughed and joked and teased with her and—miracle of miracles—had even seemed to enjoy her company.

  Around midnight, Cole had been drooping over his cards so Jenny sent him to bed. She had been loath to say good-night to him, both because she had so enjoyed her time with him and because she desperately needed the buffer he provided between her and Seth.

  She needn't have worried. While she woke Morgan for her midnight treatment, Seth apparently had thumbed through her father's DVD collection until he found an old Alfred Hitchcock movie, one of her favorites.

  "I haven't seen this in years," he exclaimed when she returned to the den after that treatment earlier. "What do you think? Are you up to watching a movie?"

  She had agreed and had tried to stay awake, but the long, arduous evening of worry and caregiving took its toll. She didn't think she had made it very far through the movie.

  Now the TV was dark and her unwanted houseguest was nowhere in sight. Had he gone home? She hurried to the window but there was his big black pickup truck, looking dark and menacing and incriminating against the snow.

  He must have decided to go to bed. It couldn't have been too long before she woke up, as the log in the woodstove still looked fresh and barely burned through.

  How long had she been out of it while he sat watching the movie? she wondered. She felt curiously vulnerable knowing she must have slept in front of him. It was a disconcerting thing to realize another person might have watched her sleep—especially when that person was a man she found enormously attractive.

  Where was he now? Some hostess she was, whether or not her guest was an invited one. Perhaps he had found an empty bed to stretch out on, either in her room or her father's.

  She should at least check to see if he had found somewhere to rest. If her guest was awake, a good hostess should at least ascertain if he needed anything.

  Her pulse kicked up as a heated image jumped into her mind of wild kisses and tangled limbs.

  No! She only meant a clean towel or a spare toothbrush.

  She did her best to push the fiery images away but they haunted her as she paused outside her father's bedroom. No light shone underneath the door but she was still cautious as she pushed it open, only to release a heavy breath when she found an empty bed.

  He must have gone to her room, then. Her stomach fluttered as she pictured that long, powerful body stretched out on her bed. Her pillow would smell like him, she thought. Leathery and masculine and delicious.

  She stood outside the door, her stomach twisting with nerves. She rolled her eyes at her reaction. This was ridiculous. He was only a man, for heaven's sake. Just a man who was probably snoring up a storm right now.

  Still, she felt a little like Pandora lifting the lid of her box as she pushed open her bedroom, then slumped against the door.

  He wasn't there, either. Her bed was just as she had left it that morning, the corners neat and the pillow shams aligned.

  Completely baffled now, she returned to the kitchen. He had to be somewhere in the house. She was about to check if he had somehow managed to find her father's guest room in the basement when she heard a clatter on the other side of the door leading to the garage, then a muffled curse.

  For the first time, she noticed a narrow slice of light under the door. She frowned. The garage? What on earth would Seth be doing in the garage at four-thirty in the morning?

  Shaking her head in confusion, she pushed open the door and shivered as a blast of cold air slapped at her.

  She heard whistling first, some tune she couldn't name but that she suspected was on the bawdy side. She followed the sound and nearly tumbled down the two small steps leading into the garage at what she saw.

  The hood of her little SUV was open and Seth was bent over fiddling with something under it.

  She couldn't seem to take her eyes off him as she tried to process what he was doing. It was hours before dawn and he was out in below-freezing weather in the middle of a blizzard working on her car.

  This was the man she thought was an immature womanizer interested in only one thing, the man she wouldn't go to dinner with for fear someone might see them and her job might be threatened, the man she had rejected a dozen different ways.

  Why would he do such a thing?

  Something seemed to break loose inside of her, something precious and tender and terrifying, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, shaken to her soul.

  She must have made some sound because the whistling broke off in midnote and he peered his head around the side of her hood. When he saw her, he gave her one of those heartbreaking smiles of his.

  "Hi!" he said cheerfully.

  She couldn't think of anything to say, lost in the tumult of emotions washing through her.

  At her continued silence, his smile slipped away. "Is everything okay with Morgan? I checked on her a while ago and everything seemed fine, I swear, or I would have woken you."

  She had to force herself to speak, if only to allay his worry. "She is. Her oxygen levels are still within normal range and I just gave her another nebulizer treatment. As soon as she finished the last of it, she went right back to sleep, just like she did at midnight."

  She didn't trust herself to say anything more just now, too stunned by his actions.

  "That's wonderful," he said fervently.

  She walked down the steps until she stood only a few feet away from him. "Seth, what are you doing here?"

  He gave a little laugh that seemed to run down her spine like a warm caress. "A little self-evident, don't you think?"

  "It's four-thirty in the morning! You should be home in bed, not standing in my ice-cold garage monkeying under my hood."

  He raised an eyebrow and by the sudden amusement in his eyes, she realized how her words could be taken as a euphemism.

  Why did men have to turn so much having to do with automobiles and their maintenance into sexual double entendres? Lube her chassis, rotate her tires, give the old engine a tune-up. And of course, all engines were female, the better for them to work their wiles.

  To her relief, Seth didn't make any smart remark, though—he just smiled. "It was no big deal. I just didn't want you being stuck here tomorrow if your father doesn't make it back from Jackson because of the weather. Anyway, I'm just about done. Let's see if my monkeying did the trick."

  He slid behind the wheel and turned the key he must have found on her key ring in the kitchen. The engine started up instantly, practically purring in the cold garage.

  "Of course," she muttered to herself. Just like everything else female the man touched.

  Seth slid out with a satisfied smile. "There you go. She's all ready to rock."

  Oh, she was in serious trouble.

  "What was my problem?" she managed to ask. Besides this foolish, foolish heart?

  "Corrosion around the battery cables. I only cleaned her up a little with some baking soda and water. But then I saw by the sticker on your windshield you were past due for an oil change and discovered your dad happened to have five quarts of the right grade oil, so I decided to take care of that, too. No big deal."

  "It's a very big deal to me," she murmured. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had performed such a gesture for her. Against her will, she thought of the nightmare she'd had just before she awoke, of feeling helpless and alone and terribly frightened. And then he was there, lending her his strength when she had none of her own left.

  "I'm just glad you won't be left without a car now," he said, wiping his hands on one of the rags from a box her father kept in the corner.

  She leaned closer. "You've got a smudge on your face."

  "Yea
h, I always make a mess when I'm working on a car."

  He scrubbed it without success. Without thinking, she took the rag from him and stepped forward, carefully wiping at the small spot of grease just above his jawline.

  An instant later, she realized what she was doing and she stopped, mortified. Her gaze slid to his and the sudden heat there seemed to burn through her, setting every nerve ending ablaze.

  She swallowed hard and thought she might have whispered his name, but it was lost in the wild firestorm of his kiss.

  Chapter Eleven

  His arms wrapped around her, tangling her up in a heat and strength that smelled vaguely of motor oil and sexy male.

  She clung tightly to his shirt and slid into the wonder of his kiss. He was so good at it, his mouth teasing and tasting until she couldn't seem to grab hold of a single coherent thought.

  A corner of her mind protested that she played a risky game. This was crazy, foolish. A smart woman should be running for all she was worth from the heartbreak he would inevitably leave behind, not reaching out to grab it with both hands.

  She knew it, but she couldn't let herself think about that now, when his mouth was so warm and exhilarating, with his hard strength beneath her fingertips, with her heart still reeling from the magnitude of what he had just done for her.

  The cold and rather drab garage seemed to disappear. Her SUV, her father's power tools, the snow still whirling outside the window. Nothing existed but the two of them, this man who seemed to know her so well, who somehow reached into her deepest dreams and gave her a reality far more magical than anything she could have imagined.

  She felt safe in his arms. It was an odd thought—one she didn't quite understand, considering he was the most dangerous man she'd ever met. At least to her emotions.

  At this moment, though, as his mouth explored hers and his arms held her tightly, she felt protected from the cold and storms of life, as if he would safeguard her from any threat.

  She didn't know how long the kiss lasted. Time seemed to have no meaning, elastic and malleable. Einstein's theory of relativity held new meaning when a woman found herself in Seth Dalton's arms.