by Karen Hughes
For the first time in her life, she fully understood the power—and allure—of greed. She wanted Jackson Colton, more than she had known she could ever want a man. Any man.
Even as desire tightened its grip on her senses, she felt the familiar niggling fear begin to surface. She could imagine herself trusting Jackson with her body, perhaps even her heart.
But not with her secrets.
An involuntary shudder coursed through her. What if she told him about her gift of sight, and he looked at her as if she were crazy, as Paul had? She had no idea how deep her feelings for Jackson went, yet she knew his rejection would be devastating.
“Cheyenne, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I felt you tremble.”
“I’m fine.”
Keeping her hand firmly in his, Jackson leaned in, his eyes grave. “Have you changed your mind about me?”
She blinked. “Changed my mind?”
“Maybe you’ve decided Law’s suspicions about me might be true. Maybe now you’re afraid for me to even touch you.” Enough bite sounded in his words for her to recognize hurt.
She stared down at their joined hands, wishing she weren’t so moved by the tone of his voice, by the touch of his flesh against hers. But she was. He stood beside her, handsome as sin, the bright sunlight gleaming on his dark hair while the woodsy scent of his cologne filled her lungs.
And she wanted.
She raised her eyes to meet his somber gaze. She didn’t need a vision to tell her that he cared for her. “I know you’re innocent, Jackson. And I’m not afraid for you to touch me.”
“You’re afraid of something,” he countered quietly. “I see it in your eyes.”
“I…” She shook her head and found she could no longer resist the whisperings of her heart. No longer wanted to resist. “I want us to be together.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
His gaze remained steady on hers as he tugged her out of the crowd and away from the corral. “Let me get this straight,” he said when they were far enough away so they couldn’t be overheard. “Are you saying you want us to be lovers?”
“Yes.”
“What brought this on? Why now?”
“I don’t know.” She let out a long breath. “It just hit me. You took my hand in yours, and I knew.”
With his free hand he toyed with a wisp of hair that had come loose from her braid. “So, you think you know me now? You think we know each other well enough?”
“I think.” A thought hit her, along with a wave of embarrassed heat. Up until a few moments ago he hadn’t touched her in nearly a week. Maybe he had decided he no longer wanted to. Maybe he just hadn’t mentioned that he’d changed his mind. She pulled the clipboard from under her arm and hugged it to her chest like a shield. “That is, if you still want—” She gnawed her bottom lip. “Maybe you’ve decided you don’t—”
“Not a chance.” His fingers laced with hers while his gaze flicked to the corral, then came back to her. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could get away right now?”
While the shaky heat of anticipation settled in her belly, she checked her watch. It was almost noon—she needed to go by the dining hall to make sure they’d begun serving the mountains of potato salad, fried chicken, biscuits and desserts that the cooking staff had slaved over. After that, it was her responsibility to see that all the events scheduled for the afternoon started on time. And she hadn’t yet had a chance to check the temporary bandstand that had been erected for that evening’s dance.
She nearly groaned out loud. “I can’t get away for hours,” she said, her mouth curving with regret. “I guess my timing’s not the best.”
“It sucks.” He rested his forehead against hers. With that one gesture, he closed off everything in her world but him. Only he existed.
“Tonight,” he murmured. “We’ll be together tonight.”
His closeness had her pulse thudding. “Yes—”
“Thought we’d never find you!” a voice boomed from behind them.
They turned in unison to find Joe and Meredith Colton standing only inches away.
“Mr. and Mrs. Colton,” Cheyenne said while heat rushed into her cheeks at the possibility they’d overheard her and Jackson’s plans. “Welcome to Hopechest Ranch. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Joe and Meredith.” From beneath the brim of his Stetson, the older man beamed at Cheyenne and gave her arm a squeeze. “The only time I ever missed a Hope-chest competition was during the years I served in the Senate and lived in D.C.” Turning to Jackson, he gripped his nephew’s hand in a hearty handshake. “You doing okay, son?”
“Things are looking up,” Jackson said, then gave Cheyenne a wink that sent her heart whacking around in her chest.
Pulling in a breath, she forced her thoughts away from lust and to the couple who’d joined them. The Colton family patriarch had dressed for the day in an unassuming plaid shirt, worn jeans and scuffed boots. His wife had opted for skintight designer jeans that highlighted her lean, leggy figure. Tooled black boots covered her feet; her yellow silk blouse sported silver trim that matched the band on her white-as-snow hat. A small leather purse hung from a silver chain looped across one shoulder. Diamond studs the size of gumdrops glittered coldly at her earlobes.
Her blond hair slid behind one angular shoulder as Meredith shifted her attention toward the corral. “We’d barely been here fifteen minutes when Teddy and Joe, Jr. dashed off. That was ages ago. Have either of you seen them?”
“Sorry,” Jackson answered.
Cheyenne ran her tongue around her teeth. “Actually, I ran into them earlier behind the pole barn.”
Using a red-tipped nail, Meredith slid her designer sunglasses down her nose and gave Cheyenne a look over the tops. “I’m almost afraid to ask what my boys were doing behind the pole barn.”
“Nothing dastardly,” Cheyenne answered. “Just teaching Priscilla Cooper how to make noises with her armpit.”
“Hell’s teeth.” Meredith rolled her eyes, then shoved her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I can’t let them out of my sight for a minute.”
Joe shook his head. “Sweet thundering Jesus, Meredith, they’re just being boys!”
“That’s right, Aunt Meredith,” Jackson commented. “You remember what you did when you caught Rand and me doing the same thing.”
Cheyenne saw a look cross the woman’s face, a quick shadow, that cleared instantly. “Of course I remember. Cheyenne, do you have any idea where Joe, Jr. and Teddy are now?”
“I sent them over to the kids’ area near the dining hall.” While she spoke, Cheyenne was pointedly aware that Jackson’s gaze had narrowed on his aunt’s face. “Sophie, River and some of the Hopechest counselors are in charge of the three-legged races. There’s also milking, roping and greased pig contests for the kids. I’m sure Joe, Jr. and Teddy have found plenty there to keep them busy.”
“No doubt. I’m going to check just to make sure.” Meredith looked at her husband. “Coming, darling?”
“I’ll catch up with you later.” Joe glanced at Jackson. “Right before we left the house I got a call from your dad. He and your mother are coming in this evening to spend a couple of days with us. Graham has some business to discuss. I know you’re officially on a leave of absence, but I need to go over a few details with you before I talk to him.”
Jackson nodded. “Sure.”
“See you later, then.” Meredith turned and sauntered off down the gravel path that led to the dining hall.
“She doesn’t remember,” Jackson said almost to himself.
“Doesn’t remember what?” Cheyenne asked while his gaze tracked his aunt.
“That day Aunt Meredith found Rand and me in the backyard, making noises with our armpits. She thought what we were doing was so hilarious that she had us teach her our technique.”
Only after Me
redith moved out of sight did Jackson meet Cheyenne’s gaze. “She and Rand and I have joked with each other about that day off and on over the years. There’s no way she could have forgotten about it. But she has. You could see it in her face.”
“The accident,” Joe said. “She’s never been the same since she and Emily were in that car wreck.”
“No.” Jackson angled his head. “I guess not.”
Joe raised a shoulder. “That’s not something I want to think about today.” He looked back at Cheyenne and smiled. “Mind if I steal my nephew for a while?”
“Go ahead.” She looked up at Jackson. “I need to go by the dining hall.” She flipped a page on her clipboard. “I’ve got a ton of other things to check after that.”
“You’re one busy lady,” Joe commented. His gaze shifted in the direction of the corral. “There’s Emmett and Blake Fallon. I haven’t seen Emmett in a while. Guess I ought to visit with him, see how he’s enjoying retired life.”
“Go ahead, Uncle Joe,” Jackson said. “I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”
“Take your time, son,” Joe said, then gave Cheyenne a wink before striding off.
“Alone at last.” As he spoke, Jackson nodded in the direction of a nearby towering oak. “Want to meet there about half an hour before the target shooting competition? We can walk over to the range together.”
“That sounds good.”
He curled a finger under Cheyenne’s chin, nudged it up. “There’s one other thing I want you to plan on.”
“What’s that?”
“Save me every dance tonight,” he said quietly, then dipped his head. His lips brushed hers, as light as a wish. “After that, I’m going to take you home and make love with you. All night.”
Patsy clenched her trembling hands into fists as she made her way along the gravel path that led to the ranch’s dining hall. Inside her, desperation rose like floodwater. She hadn’t known what the hell Jackson was referring to. Didn’t have a clue how Meredith had reacted when she’d found him and Rand years ago making noises with their armpits. Armpits!
Behind the oversize lenses of her sunglasses she kept her eyes straight ahead, nodded only slightly to people coming the opposite way along the path. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, couldn’t talk right now. Not while she felt so vulnerable. So alone.
She needed to think.
She dragged in air, but couldn’t seem to get enough in her lungs. Years ago, when she had assumed her twin sister’s identity, she had handled anything and everything that had come along. References to the past hadn’t knocked her off-balance. Only lately had she begun experiencing the ice-pick jabs of panic in her chest that she felt now.
Pulling her purse off her shoulder, she dug inside, fished out the small gold case and opened its lid; her hands shook so badly she almost fumbled the pills it held onto the path. She’d recently discovered one Valium was no longer enough to calm her nerves, so she popped two into her mouth and swallowed them dry.
On impulse, she veered off the path, forcing her trembling legs to carry her into the small clearing she spotted behind towering redwoods. There, she dropped onto one of several large rocks that had been pushed together to form a rustic bench. She gave scant notice to the swatch of colorful wildflowers that spread across the floor of the clearing.
She could still feel Jackson’s eyes on her, looking down in a way that sent the message she wasn’t being looked at, but into. His gray gaze had been like a cold wave against her flesh. What did he know? Something about Emily?
Patsy closed her eyes against a rising sense of panic that made breathing almost impossible. She had covered her tracks, she told herself. No one—including Jackson—knew that she’d hired the man who had broken into Emily’s bedroom that night. If only Silas Pike hadn’t bungled the hit. If only Emily hadn’t gotten away and now was who-knew-where, living on the lam.
The unfairness of it all rose inside her, swamping Patsy’s mind. What if the nightmares Emily had suffered since the accident finally revealed the answers that had been locked for the past ten years inside the little bitch’s head? What if Emily realized her image of seeing “two mommies” was no image? What if she remembered she’d actually witnessed Patsy and Meredith together? What if Emily suddenly recalled seeing Patsy dump an injured, unconscious Meredith on the grounds of the clinic?
What if? What if?
For a moment, the shapes and colors in the small clearing seemed to shift out of sync. Patsy felt droplets of sweat break out on her skin. For the millionth time she cursed herself for not having finished things after she’d run Meredith’s car off the road. If she had killed Meredith and Emily, she’d be free and clear. Instead, here she was, desperate to hold on to the cushy lifestyle she’d created for herself and her two sons. A lifestyle all of her senses screamed she was in danger of losing. She had to find Meredith. And Emily. She could feel them out there, hostile eminences. They deserved to die. Had to die.
Patsy dragged off her hat, dropped it onto the bench. Despite the additional money she had wired Silas Pike, he had yet to track down Emily. Yesterday, Patsy had spoken to the private investigator she had hired to find Meredith. The idiot still insisted her sister had died years ago, homeless on the street.
Patsy had told him in no uncertain terms she would believe that only after she saw her twin’s cold, dead body on a slab in the morgue.
The P.I. then responded that he was out of leads and closing the case unless she paid an additional retainer.
Dammit, she needed more money!
Patsy’s right hand went up, her fingers skimming the diamond stud in her ear. She couldn’t sell her jewelry—wouldn’t sell it. Not when she might need to spirit away Joe, Jr. and Teddy at a moment’s notice. To support them, she needed all the jewelry and money she could get her hands on. To make matters worse, damn Joe Colton had her on a strangling budget and the bastard hadn’t bought her any new baubles in years!
Money. She had to get more money. Suddenly, she felt almost quiet inside and she realized the Valium had kicked in. She was still in control, she assured herself. No reason to panic.
Maybe it was fate that Graham was coming to Prosperino for a couple of days. Even though he was bringing ice-bitch Cynthia with him, Patsy knew she wouldn’t have a problem getting Graham alone—he and his wife spent even less time together than she and Joe. Yes, Patsy thought, she would have ample opportunity to talk to Graham. When she did, she would force him to agree to resume paying her to keep quiet about the fact he’d fathered Teddy.
Before she could do that though, she had to get rid of the one obstacle that stood in the way to her getting Graham to agree to whatever she wanted.
Jackson.
Timing was everything, Patsy thought as she plucked up her hat and stood. Just as it had been the evening four months ago when she’d stormed into the backyard just before dinner. Who would have thought that her needing to calm down over Heather McGrath’s failure to dress appropriately for dinner would have turned into a gold mine?
Patsy smiled to herself. If she hadn’t been outside the instant the gunshot sounded, she wouldn’t have seen the figure clad in black and gripping a gun race down the staircase built against the face of the rocky cliff. She’d remained out of sight, while the dark figure disappeared into the shallow alcove that stared out at the sea. Seconds later, the shooter stepped back into sight, hands empty, then disappeared into the shadows.
It had been dusk—too dark to get a good look at the man who’d fire the shot. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have told the police what she’d seen. Lord knew she wanted the person to keep trying until Joe was dead. Then, she would inherit a trust fund worth more money than Fort Knox ever thought about having. Even while she was being questioned by Thad Law, she had formulated possibilities on how to use this latest development to her advantage. Later that night, after the cops had gone, she had retrieved a small flashlight, gone down to the beach and slipped into the alcove. She’d s
earched until she found the well-concealed gun, then slid it into her coat pocket and crept back to the house through the oozing shadows.
She had hidden the gun, thinking she might use it to her advantage down the road.
That advantage had arisen when Jackson threatened to go to the police if she didn’t stop blackmailing his father. During his sister’s wedding reception, it had been a simple matter to slip Jackson a drink loaded with Valium. Then, when he’d shown the effects, she’d played the dutiful hostess and concerned aunt and taken him to his bedroom.
Having already wiped the gun clean of prints, she donned gloves and crept to his bedside. While he lay in a drug-induced sleep, she’d pressed his hand around the weapon’s grip, then slid the gun back in the knapsack where it now lay hidden. Jackson had no clue.
Now she needed to get him out of her way. With him cooling his heels in a cell, he would spend his time trying to figure out how the hell his fingerprints got on the gun used in the attempts on Joe’s life. The last thing Jackson would give a damn about was Graham’s resuming his payments to buy her silence.
Patsy glanced at her watch while a plan clicked in her brain. She knew Joe intended for them to stay at Hopechest Ranch through all the boring afternoon competitions. Knew, too, he would keep a fatherly eye on Joe, Jr. and Teddy, but he wouldn’t lift a finger to even look for her until he was ready to leave. His indifference toward her was convenient, considering what she had to do.
She settled her hat back on her head, her glossed lips curved in a smile. It would take only a couple of minutes to go by the dining hall and check on her sons. After that, she would get the car, swing by Hacienda de Alegria and unearth the knapsack that held the gun. Then she would make the short drive into Prosperino. With the town’s entire population doing their holiday celebrating at Hopechest, little chance existed that anyone would see her.
