“It can’t hurt to think about it,” Seth said, then dropped the subject. After a moment or two, he cleared his throat. “Do you ever hear from Abby?”
The casual tone didn’t fool Drew. “Occasionally.” His younger sister had kept in touch, penning newsy little letters filled with anecdotes about her and her friends. As a result, Drew knew Abby better now than he had in all the years they’d lived under the same roof. But perhaps more revealing than her narrations were the things she didn’t say. For instance, Abby never mentioned a boyfriend.
Seth kept his gaze on the road. “How’s she doing?”
“You must have it real bad.” Drew took no pleasure in the astute observation. Seth and Abby had dated. It felt like a lifetime ago; but apparently Seth still had feelings for her.
With an irritated sideways glance, Seth’s face reddened. “She never forgave me for arresting you. What was I supposed to do? Resign?”
“She can be stubborn.”
Seth released a sigh. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
In Drew’s experience, there were always other women, but he didn’t think Seth would appreciate hearing that. So he said nothing—neither did Seth.
Drew smiled slightly. Odd how they’d slipped so easily into the old habit of nonverbal communication. They’d once been close friends, before events pitted them on opposite sides of the law.
During the trial, Seth had testified against Drew; so had Jared Carlisle and many others. Drew was found guilty of criminal negligence and safety-code violations. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never live that down.
As he got closer to home, Drew felt his chest tighten at the sight of familiar landmarks. They passed Stone’s End—the neighboring farm. It occupied the top of the hill, which always galled his father, Drew recalled now with a wry smile.
At one time, merging both farms had seemed like a good idea. Sam Pierce coveted all those rich timber rights, and Ira Carlisle was getting too old to run Stone’s End. Marrying their children off made perfect sense—at least to them.
Drew had rebelled. He’d gone out of his way to annoy Ira’s daughter. Jessie was sweet and gutsy and appealing. Drew had realized that a little too late. Then Ben Harding had come along. And the best man had won. Plain and simple.
“Ira passed away earlier this year,” Seth said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Despite their differences, Drew had always liked Ira Carlisle. Well, maybe “like” was putting it too strongly. He’d respected the man.
“He died peacefully. He married Dora Cummings a couple of years ago.”
Drew shook his head in amazement. “Good old Ira.”
When Oakridge came into view. Drew feasted his eyes on the sight. Along the road, sumacs flamed bright red. And in the distance, golden oaks vied with the sun.
“I’ll walk the rest of the way,” he said, aware of a need to be alone to savor this moment of home-coming.
“Sure.” Seth pulled over, but kept the engine running. “The place is closed up,” he warned.
“Thanks for the lift.”
Before driving away, Seth said, “If you need anything else, give me a call.”
With a nod, Drew watched the patrol car reverse. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned up the road. Within a few yards, a heavy steel gate with a No Trespassing sign barred his way.
Drew ignored it.
Half a mile farther, he passed an empty field where the migrant camp had once stood. After the explosion, very little remained—only the blackened shells of several small buildings.
Drew recalled a busy, noise-filled place, crowded with campers and tents and trailers, with children running about and laundry hanging out to dry, clotheslines strung up between trees.
And music.
There was always music.
At this time of the year, the farmworkers celebrated the end of harvest before they moved on. Secretly he’d envied them their freedom.
Now the silence was deafening.
Drew finally reached the house. It stood on a knoll, a handsome two-story house made of brick. Here again, the fire damage was never repaired. Half the house was boarded up.
He glared at the For Sale sign tacked to the front door. Auction notices were posted on either side. He tore them down.
The lock seemed rusted; the key turned with a metallic protest. Once inside, Drew felt the chill dampness to his bones.
The house was empty, which he’d expected. His footsteps rang through the empty rooms, sounding hollow. He didn’t belong here. He tried to feel something—anything. There was no welcome.
Memories of his childhood surrounded him. Right or wrong, they’d shaped him into the man he was today. In all honesty, Drew could think of no excuse for not turning out to be solid, dependable, generous—like his older brother. Evan was always first, always in charge. And Drew had rebelled, but that was no excuse. His father had come to expect the worst of his second-born son, and Drew managed to live down to his expectations. Boyhood pranks, fast cars and fast girls eventually led to careless business practices.
The explosion had been an accident—but one that might have been prevented with proper equipment maintenance. If only Drew had replaced that defective gas-tank valve, instead of repairing it, but he hadn’t. He had to live with that knowledge.
Thank God, there’d been no fatal injuries. In his heart, he knew it was an accident. Had he paid enough, or would fate demand more? He’d destroyed Oakridge.
And his memories.
All the innocent days were gone.
After only a few hours in Henderson, Drew was determined to leave as soon as possible. However, he wouldn’t get very far without his car, which a friend had stored for him.
He set out on foot for the neighboring farm. Hoping to avoid a run-in with any of the Carlisles, Drew didn’t go up to the house. He soon located the abandoned barn Rachel had indicated in the letter she’d sent in care of his lawyer.
The red sports car gleamed in the drab interior.
Drew ran an affectionate hand along the fender, recalling the feel of the road and the powerful engine under his control. Had life ever been as simple as driving fast cars, flirting with pretty girls and long hot summer days that never seemed to end?
He checked the interior. The keys were under the floormat.
He was about to fit the key into the ignition when something moved near the open barn door. Alerted to the fact that he had unwanted company, Drew looked but couldn’t see a thing. He felt a cold draft. He climbed out of the driver’s seat, then closed the car door. The interior auto light went out, pitching the barn into blackness.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
He suspected an animal seeking shelter from the cold, but he couldn’t be sure.
Sweat broke out when he heard the cock of a shotgun.
Olivia could barely see more than six inches in front of her. Admittedly she was better with a handgun, but anyone could hit the broad side of a barn with a shotgun. She hoped.
Someone grabbed her from behind.
She felt a hard masculine strength. With a muscled arm flexing around her throat, he dragged her against him. Knowing she had only seconds to strike back at her attacker, she elbowed him in the eye. His head jerked back at the impact. His hold loosened slightly, just enough to give her an advantage.
With one smooth move, she flipped him over her shoulder.
With a faster reflex, Drew hooked her ankle on his way down, and she landed hard on the dirt floor. He heard the rush of air from her lungs.
And her sputtering.
He felt like laughing.
Olivia.
What the hell was she doing here?
Before she could recover, he rolled her into the pile of hay, ignoring the sharp pricks and trying not to think of what breed of vermin occupied the shut-up barn. It smelled dank and musty, and probably hadn’t been invaded in five years.
Like his heart.
“Olivia,” he said, unable t
o disguise the surprise—or the pleasure—in his voice. He’d said goodbye to her so many times, and here she was again.
“Drew!” Her voice registered amazement; then she laughed, relaxing under his weight. A dimple played at the corner of her mouth. “Hello again.”
He grunted. “I suppose you think this is funny.”
She tried to sit up, but he was holding her down. She raised a hand to his eye. The tips of her fingers gently feathered his brow.
When he winced, she said, “Oh, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” he returned, missing the small connection when her hand fell away. “In case you haven’t noticed, I won that round.”
“I don’t think so.”
He heard the smile in her voice. Unable to resist, he dipped his head and kissed her, stealing her breath before she could catch it and talk back. Silencing Olivia took a lot of determination, but he was up to the task.
Long and slow and unhurried, he savored her sweetness. Kissing her could easily become habit-forming. He drew her close, fitting his body to hers with an ease that would have stopped him cold if he’d paused to think about it. He felt the slight curves, the dip of her waist.
When her arms crept around his neck, he knew he’d won this minor skirmish.
Chapter Six
The barn was cloaked in darkness. A draft came from the open door. Something scurried in the hay. Aware of a growing discomfort, yet drowning in pleasure, Olivia struggled to come back to her senses.
It was difficult when Drew was murmuring into her ear, sending a current down her spine, and easing his arms around her waist, pressing her closer. When his leg slid between hers, she almost came undone.
“Drew.” Latching on to the last shred of self-denial, she placed her hands against his chest and found some breathing space. “What are you doing here?”
As if reluctant, Drew released her. His voice sounded husky, aroused and very male. “My car was stored in this barn. I came to get it.” He dangled the key as proof.
Avoiding his questioning gaze, she glanced at the car. “But what is your car doing here?”
“Rachel is a friend…”
Her frown deepened. “Jared’s wife?”
“Yes, but she wasn’t his wife when I left Henderson. She was raising her sister’s son on her own. I tried to give her the car outright, but she refused. Instead, she insisted on keeping it stored for me while I was away.”
“That sounds logical, and just like Rachel. But how do you know her?”
“I’ve known Rachel for years. We met in our teens through her twin sister.”
“I see.” She sneezed violently. “What’s that smell?” she said, when she recovered.
“Mothballs,” he muttered.
She sneezed again. “What?”
He smiled ruefully. “I found some of my old clothes stored away in a trunk. I aired them to try to get the smell out.”
Twitching her nose, she smiled. “You didn’t succeed.”
The sweater hugged the wide masculine set of his shoulders. The jeans were comfortably worn, not stiff, and fit snugly. He eased away, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
His gaze narrowed, as if it had suddenly dawned on him. “I explained what I’m doing here, now what about you?”
“It’s a little complicated.”
He drew in an impatient breath, then released it with a taut smile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a straight answer.”
Olivia started to reply. “As I said, it’s—”
At that exact moment, the barn door crashed open and drowned out the rest. A bright light blinded Drew when he looked around.
“All right,” a deep-toned voice ordered. “Get away from her. Hands up, behind your head.”
Then came another voice, a wizened, “Yep, don’t try anything.”
Recognizing both voices, Drew got to his feet and assisted Olivia. Together, they faced their audience of two.
Drew spoke first. “Looks like you got us.”
Seth lowered his flashlight and exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t ask,” Drew said dryly. He felt like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “Fred, how have you been?” he asked the older man, a farmhand who was a fixture at Stone’s End.
Fred said, “I can’t complain. You don’t look the worse for wear, considering…except for that eye.” He set his hat back on his head. “Didn’t know you were back home.”
“As soon as I make a few arrangements, I’m leaving,” Drew said firmly. How many times did he have to repeat it? He wasn’t staying, and Henderson was no longer a place he called home.
“Well,” Fred said, “you picked a mighty odd time of day to drop by uninvited. Looks like you came close to scaring the poor girl out of her wits.”
At a glance, Drew decided Olivia didn’t look scared or witless just embarrassed.
Her face grew redder as she explained, “I thought Drew was an intruder. I’m sorry. I called Fred before coming to check.”
“And I called the sheriff.” Fred frowned at Olivia. “I thought I told you to stay put.”
“I was afraid whoever was breaking in would get away.”
At that example of her logic, Fred shook his head. “Well, you got him, all right.” Openly protective, he looked suspiciously from her to Drew. His gaze fastened on a piece of straw sticking out of her tangled hair. “Didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“We’ve met,” Drew said, not feeling the need for further explanation.
Apparently Olivia did. She reddened several more degrees as she said. “I had some trouble with my car on the way home from Bangor. Drew was kind enough to assist.”
“Odd. Seems to me it doesn’t take two days to get from Bangor to Henderson.”
Olivia hedged, “Yes, well. We ran into more car trouble. But everything worked out.”
“Olivia was perfectly safe with me,” Drew said in a dry voice. He folded his arms across his chest, then leaned back against the fender of the car.
Fred didn’t look convinced. “Looks like we got here in the nick of time.”
Seth chuckled. “I don’t know about that. Looks like Drew got the worst of it.”
Drew pressed a finger to his sore eye. He winced at the sharp pain. By morning, it would be colorful.
Olivia said, “I’m sorry.” Her eyes were twinkling. “Would you like to come up to the house? The sooner you take care of that eye, the better.”
“Come on, Fred,” Seth said. “I’ll drive you home.”
After Seth and Fred left, Drew turned to Olivia. Since meeting her, he’d gone from one absurd episode to the next.
He needed to get some answers. “You owe me an explanation. Before we were interrupted, you were going to tell me why you’re here.”
“Come up to the house. You need some ice for that eye.”
“I’ll survive a black eye,” he said dryly. “Now can you please stop changing the subject? What’s going on? And what are you doing at Stone’s End?”
“I live here.” She took a deep breath, “My father was Ira Carlisle.”
“Try again.” He shook his head.
“It’s true. A few years ago, Jared found some old letters. With the help of a private investigator, they led him to me. Avis was my mother. Ira never knew about me. They were divorced before I was born.”
“I see. And where does the DeAngelis part fit in?”
“When Mike married my mother, he adopted me.” She smiled, as if recalling that magical day. “I became Olivia DeAngelis. I lived in a real house, with a fenced yard. Everything was great at first. But then my mother wanted to leave. I don’t know how Mike did it, but he convinced her to let me stay. She said I could choose—so I chose Mike.” She sighed.
“I don’t think she ever forgave me.”
Faced with the irrefutable facts, Drew shook his head in amazement. “I’ve known the Carlisle family all my life. To my knowledge,
no one ever mentioned the existence of a third child. Did you grow up knowing the family history?”
“My mother said my real father didn’t want me.”
“Hell!” Drew bit the one word out. And that was it.
Olivia laughed shakily. “No comment?”
“What can I say? You had a raw deal, and I’m sorry.”
“I suppose they did the best they could.”
He shook his head. “That’s very generous of you.”
“It’s called self-preservation,” she said with a rueful smile. “In any case, I’m glad you’re here. Won’t you come up to the house?”
“I don’t think your family would be pleased to see me.”
“They’re all out of town. Besides, my family doesn’t choose my friends.”
Drew wanted to believe her. So why did he feel the need to push her away? Her identity had come as a shock—not a pleasant one. It made their relationship, however temporary, more complicated than he cared to examine too closely. And it was only bound to get worse if he saw her again.
“You said your adoptive father was a cop—didn’t he ever warn you about getting mixed up with an ex-con?”
“No, he didn’t.” She smiled, her eyes clear and honest and filled to the brim with loving memories of the man who raised her and obviously gave her a strong sense of herself, as well as a generous, compassionate view of others. “As a matter of fact, he was a strong believer in rehabilitation.”
“And what do you believe?”
She met his somber gaze. “I believe that most people deserve a second chance—all you have to do is take it.”
Reminding himself that she’d fooled him once, Drew shrugged off her sweet concern. Like her innocence, it was tantalizing, seductive. After years of abstinence, any woman would have the same effect on him— No, he’d never felt this way before.
She wasn’t any woman.
She was Olivia.
And she obviously needed protecting—from herself, from him and from her own generous heart.
There was one sure way to accomplish that.
“Look, before we go any further, you should know that I just got out of prison a few days ago.”
The Wedding Bargain Page 7
