She nodded.
When Crandall made no move to enter the room, she crossed the distance and handed the photo to him. He studied it for an impassive moment. “These are your parents?”
“Yes. George and Eleanor Washington.”
Crandall arched a brow. “Your father was named after the first president?”
Solange chuckled. “I know. I used to get teased all the time, and as you can imagine, I’ve heard every joke under the sun.”
“I can imagine.” His heavy, dark brows furrowed together in a slight frown. “They looked too old to be running after a small child.”
Solange bristled. Her chin went up a proud notch. “They were the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Crandall lifted his head, giving her a swift, evaluative glance. “I never meant to imply otherwise, Miss Washington,” he said in a tone that made it clear he still believed her parents had been too old to raise her.
Solange dug her fingernails into her palms, resisting the urge to snatch the photograph out of his hand. Who the hell was he to pass judgment on her parents? What gave him the right? And would he have made the same comment if she hadn’t told him she was adopted?
He examined the picture a moment longer, then passed it back to her, his eyes tracing her features. “You haven’t changed much. You look the same.”
Solange forced a jaunty smile to her lips. “Considering I was nine years old at the time, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Fair enough.” He dipped his hands back into his pockets. “Do you know how to ride a horse, Miss Washington?”
Solange chuckled dryly. “With all due respect, sir, that’s like asking a fish if it knows how to swim. I grew up on a farm. Learning how to ride was a rite of passage.”
“Of course. I should have known.” A ghost of a smile played around the edges of his mouth. “If you’d like, you can go riding tomorrow. I have one or two steeds that should meet with your approval.”
This time, when Solange smiled, there was nothing forced about it. “I’d like that very much.”
He nodded shortly. “I’ll let you finish unpacking. Have a good night, Miss Washington.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
As he turned to leave, he said, “Oh, and one more thing, Miss Washington.”
“Yes?”
“The next time someone asks you to participate in something unethical or illegal, such as, say, taking a lie-detector test, stick to your principles and refuse.” He paused, a hint of censure beneath the cool smile he gave her. “That’s what any good lawyer would do.”
Solange swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
After he left, she released a long, deep breath and returned to the box she’d been unpacking. As she unwrapped the remaining photographs, she reflected upon Crandall Thorne’s parting words. She may have failed his first test, but her presence in his home that evening was proof that he, like Solange, believed she could do the job she’d been hired for. If he’d had any serious misgivings about her, he wouldn’t have offered her the position. Contrary to what she’d told him, she wasn’t arrogant enough to believe she was the most qualified applicant he’d come across during his search, especially if he’d received hundreds of résumés, as she suspected. Although she’d admitted to being an aspiring attorney and had ruined his nice shirt on her way out of the house, he’d still chosen her.
In that moment, Solange vowed to do everything in her power to make sure he never regretted his decision.
She finished unpacking, then went to take a shower in the large, luxurious bathroom adorned with custom ceramic tile, cultured marble counters and gleaming brass fixtures.
Feeling like a pampered guest at an exclusive resort, she dried off with a thick terry-cloth towel, smoothed scented lotion all over her body and slipped into a clean, oversize T-shirt. Grabbing the paperback mystery novel she’d bought while running errands that week, Solange padded barefoot into the separate seating area and stretched out on the chaise longue before the flickering fire. The logs made a soft hissing noise as they burned, sending up an occasional spray of bright embers.
Lulled by the sound, she soon found herself drifting off to sleep.
When her cell phone rang, it was as if she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. She jerked upright, feeling disoriented, then scrambled off the chaise and hurried over to the bed, where she’d left her purse earlier.
She dug out her cell phone and answered without glancing at the caller ID, assuming it could only be one person. “Hey, girl.”
There was a startled pause on the other end. “Solange?” ventured a deep, all-too-familiar voice. A voice she’d never expected to hear again. “Solange, this is Lamar.”
The air stalled in her lungs. She lowered herself slowly onto the bed, holding the phone in a sudden death grip.
“Are you there?”
She swallowed hard, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m here,” she murmured, striving for a calm she didn’t feel. “What do you want, Lamar?”
“I, uh, wanted to see how you were doing. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has.”
Lamar cleared his throat nervously. “I’ve been meaning to call you ever since I heard that you’d moved to San Antonio. I was going to call you earlier, but then I got sent to Washington, D.C., to take some classes. I just returned last week.”
Solange said nothing, letting the silence hang between them. Let him squirm, she thought peevishly. God knows he had that, and a helluva lot worse, coming to him.
After another moment, Lamar said brightly, “Did Jill tell you I saw her at the bank the other day?”
“She may have mentioned something about that.”
“She told me you’d landed a nice job with Crandall Thorne, that big-time defense attorney. I’ve heard he travels in the same social circles as judges, politicians, philanthropists and celebrities. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Solange murmured.
“I was really surprised to hear that you’d left home.”
“Why? Because all you’ve ever seen me as is a small-town girl with even smaller aspirations?”
“No! You know that’s not what I meant. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve been all over the world, and you’re still the most ambitious woman I’ve ever met, Solange.”
Something in his voice made Solange wonder whether she’d just been complimented or insulted. The fact that it mattered at all sent a stab of frustration slicing through her. Impatiently, she glanced up at the antique clock on the wall. “Look, it’s getting late. I really need to—”
Without warning, Lamar let out a sharp, ragged breath. “How long are you going to blame me for what happened between us?”
Solange nearly dropped the phone. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. How long will you treat me like a leper for the way things ended between us?”
“In case you’ve forgotten,” Solange said, coolly succinct, “you’re the one who broke up with me. At a New Year’s Eve party, mind you, where you knew I wouldn’t make a scene in front of all those people.”
“I know the timing was bad,” Lamar agreed grimly, “but believe me when I tell you I didn’t plan it that way. It just—”
“Happened?” She gave a brittle, mirthless laugh. “How original. Do you realize that’s the exact same thing Wyatt told Jill when she caught him in bed with another woman?”
“Damn it, Solange,” Lamar snapped. “I’m not Wyatt! I never cheated on you, and you know it!”
“Sometimes I wish you had!” she cried. “God knows that would have been a whole lot easier to explain than the vague reason you gave me! You told me you needed space in the same breath you assured me I wasn’t smothering you. What was I supposed to think, Lamar?”
“Solange—”
She drew a deep, steadying breath. “It doesn’t matter anymore. That was nearly a year ago. So much has happened since then. So much has changed.”
Solange grew very still, her heart hammering inside her chest. Jill’s voice echoed through her mind, clear as a church bell. When I saw him at the bank today, I realized he still loves you. He never stopped.
Could her best friend have been right? Did she dare believe what Lamar was telling her?
In a carefully measured voice, Solange said, “If that’s true, if you still have feelings for me, then why did you break up with me?”
Lamar sighed harshly. “Because I was a damn fool,” he said, full of self-deprecation. “When I told you I needed space, it was because I lacked the courage to tell you what I really wanted, what I really needed.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“When I broke up with you, Solange, I never imagined you’d let me go so easily.”
Solange arched a brow. “You expected me to beg you to come back?”
Lamar gave a dry, humorless chuckle. “Of course not. I know what a proud, stubborn woman you’ve always been. I had no illusions about you begging for anything. What I expected—what I hoped—was that you’d realize how much you missed me, how much you needed me, how right we were for each other.” He paused for a moment. “I was hoping you would finally decide you wanted to marry me.”
Solange made a soft, strangled sound. “W-what did you say?”
Lamar heaved a deep, resigned breath. “I’m not getting any younger, Solange. I’ll be forty next year. I’m tired of being a bachelor. I haven’t enjoyed that status since the day I laid eyes on you at that county fair, looking like an African princess banished to the life of a dairy maid in your checkered red-and-white shirt and cutoff shorts. I think I was a goner even before I tasted your canned strawberry preserves.”
An errant chuckle escaped before Solange could stop herself. “Lamar—”
“It was love at first sight for me, and I thought you felt the same way, but every time I even hinted at marriage, you clammed up on me or changed the subject.”
“That’s not true.” Even as the vehement denial left her mouth, Solange remembered her response to Dane Roarke’s question about her marital status. God, no, she’d said without hesitation, as if she were appalled by the mere idea. Had she always reacted that way—or had her response been tainted by bitterness over her breakup with Lamar?
“I don’t remember any discussions of marriage,” she hedged.
“We never actually progressed to the ‘discussion’ phase,” Lamar said wryly. “Like I said, every time I broached the subject, you got that deer-in-the-headlights look and carefully steered the conversation in another direction. After a while, I realized that as good as our relationship was, we wanted different things out of life. You wanted to attend law school and become a family-law attorney. I simply wanted to settle down with a family.”
“Oh, Lamar.” Solange closed her eyes, stretching out on the queen-size bed. “I wish you’d shared these things with me before.”
“I probably should have. In fact, I know I should have. But would it have made a difference?”
“What do you mean?”
Lamar fell silent for so long she wondered if he’d been dropped from the call. But a quick glance at her cell phone confirmed they were still connected.
Finally he spoke. “If I’d asked you that night to marry me,” he said quietly, “would you have agreed?”
Solange’s heart thudded. Sweat dampened her palms. “I—I don’t know,” she croaked out. “That was almost a year ago. Like I said, so much has changed.”
“Including your heart?”
“Lamar—”
“Do you still love me?”
Fresh anger and resentment swept through her. She sat up quickly. “Wait a minute! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You broke up with me, remember? For several weeks you did your level best to alienate me, ignoring my phone calls and making up excuses not to see me. And whenever you did give me the time of day, you were cold and distant, practically a stranger. You let me think you’d grown tired of me! You have no right to come barging back into my life, after all this time, demanding to know how I feel about you!”
“You’re right,” Lamar said solemnly. “I’m sorry for hurting you, and for not being there for you after your parents died. Staying away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I thought you hated me and wanted nothing to do with me.”
“I did hate you,” Solange growled, “and I didn’t want anything to do with you.”
“What about now? Now that you know what was going through my head at the time, does it change anything?”
He sounded so hopeful she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, she said wearily, “I don’t know what you want from me, Lamar.”
“I want a second chance,” he said urgently. “I want to be with you again. Come home, Solange. You don’t belong in San Antonio—”
“Where I belong,” she interrupted through gritted teeth, “is no longer your concern.”
“Damn it, Solange! Don’t be like that. I love you, and unless my instincts are wrong, you still love me, too.”
Solange said nothing, neither denying nor confirming his assertion. She knew a part of her would always love him. But was that enough to justify taking him back after the way he’d hurt her? Could she trust him with her heart again?
Was it too late for them?
Sensing her indecision, Lamar persisted. “I’ve tried dating other women, but it’s no use. You’re the only woman I want, the only woman I’ll ever want. If you agree to marry me, I promise to devote the rest of my life to making you happy.” His voice lowered to a soft, beseeching caress. “You know I could take good care of you. I earn more than enough for both of us, and next year I’m up for another promotion. You wouldn’t even have to work. You could stay home or go to law school—whatever you want. All I’m asking is to be part of the equation.”
Solange frowned, staring up at the ceiling. It was tempting, so damned tempting, to accept what he was offering—love, stability, an escape from the loneliness she’d felt ever since her parents had died. If she married Lamar, she wouldn’t be alone in the world anymore. She’d belong to a family again; she’d belong to him, and he to her. And her parents would have approved. They’d adored Lamar, and had hinted more than once that they wouldn’t mind having him as a son-in-law.
“Solange?” Lamar gently prodded. “I love you. Please say yes. Please say you’ll marry me.”
“I—I need time, Lamar. This…this is a lot to digest at once.”
“I know.”
“I’m not ready to move back home. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I ever will be. I came here to start over. I need to be able to do that.”
“I understand. I don’t want to push you. But before you hang up the phone, Solange, I think you should know that I’m very determined to get you back in my life. I’m fully prepared to put in a request to be reassigned to Fort Sam Houston, one of the military bases there in San Antonio.”
Solange couldn’t suppress an impatient groan. “Lamar—”
“Don’t bother trying to talk me out of it,” he said firmly. “I let you go once before, and it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. Don’t expect me to let you go a second time, not without putting up a fight.”
Solange closed her eyes, too mentally drained to argue. “Good night, Lamar.”
“Good night, princess. Sleep well.”
Sleep well? Solange thought sarcastically as she returned the cell phone to her purse and switched off the bedside lamp, leaving only the soft glow of firelight to illuminate the room.
She’d be lucky if she slept a wink that night. Thanks to Lamar Rogers, it was going to be one of the longest nights of her life, second only to the night her parents died.
Chapter 10
Dane knew the moment he arrived at the ranch the next morning and took one look at Solange’s face that something had changed.
Seated alone at the round oak table in the sunny breakfast nook, Solange looked up as Rita escorted Dane into the room. When their eyes met, the smile she gave him was brief, almost perfunctory, before she quickly glanced away.
What was that about?
“You’re just in time for breakfast,” Rita cheerfully informed Dane as she set a large, steaming bowl of grits on the table, which was already covered with mounds of food—blueberry pancakes, thick, crispy slices of bacon, home fries, scrambled eggs, assorted fruit. Even as he surveyed the appetizing spread, his stomach growled, reminding him that the last time he’d eaten was around 3 p.m. yesterday, during his previous trip to the ranch.
“Don’t just stand there gawking,” Rita laughingly admonished him. She pointed to an empty chair at the table across from Solange. “Have a seat, baby.”
Remembering his promise not to argue with the woman, Dane slid into the proffered chair and accepted a plate laden with food. But his gaze was on Solange, who looked fresh and exquisitely wholesome in a yellow peasant blouse and snug-fitting jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail with the long bangs swept to one side, emphasizing her dark, exotic eyes. Upon closer examination, Dane noticed faint dark circles beneath her eyes, which told him she hadn’t slept very well. He wondered what, or who, was to blame.
“Morning,” he murmured.
She met his eyes over the rim of her coffee cup. “Good morning, Dane.”
No other woman had ever made his plain, monosyllabic name sound so special, so unique. He could only imagine the way it would sound on her lips as he made love to her, as her slick, beautiful body shuddered in the throes of an orgasm.
He watched, with wicked amusement, as her eyes widened a fraction, as if she’d read his mind. Her hand trembled a little as she replaced her cup in the saucer.
“How did you enjoy your first night at Casa Thorne?” Dane asked lazily, determined to engage her in conversation, no matter how reluctant she seemed.
Before she could respond, however, Crandall chose that moment to enter the room. He took one look at Dane and scowled. “What the hell are you doing at my breakfast table, Roarke?” he demanded.
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