Evening Hours

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  “True,” Cutler said in the same sober tone.

  A silence ensued while they made their sandwiches and took several bites. Somehow Cutler managed to swallow twice. The stuff tasted as if he’d bitten into a bucket of sand. He rinsed the food down with his iced tea. In fact, he turned that up and drained the glass.

  When he set it back down, his dad had stopped eating and was staring at him, a curious gleam in his eyes.

  Cutler forced himself not to avert his gaze.

  “What’s up?”

  “What makes you think something’s up?” Cutler asked, toying with his empty glass, stalling for time.

  Trevor chuckled. “Because I know you. You don’t have this kind of free time to lollygag during the day. Your schedule’s way too tight.”

  “You’re right, I don’t.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  This time Cutler’s smile was genuine. “You know me well.”

  Trevor merely laughed, but then he turned serious. “Tell me what I need to do.”

  “It’s not about needing your help, Dad.” Cutler paused, thinning his lips. “Actually, I do need your help, only not in the way you think.”

  Trevor gave Cutler one of his looks. “Whatever.”

  “I don’t know quite how to begin.” This time Cutler did avert his gaze.

  “What the hell, son? I’m about to get worried. I don’t recall ever seeing you in such a frame of mind.”

  “That’s because you haven’t.”

  “You don’t have cancer, do you?”

  Cutler blinked. “What?”

  “I said, you don’t have cancer, do you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Thank God,” Trevor said with obvious relief.

  Cutler frowned. “What a thought.”

  “Well, in today’s climate you never know. So if it’s not your health, then it has to be your job.”

  “Dad, if you’ll just listen, I’ll tell you.”

  Trevor pushed his chair back from the table, taking his iced-tea glass with him. “I’m listening.”

  Cutler opened his mouth but nothing came out, which forced him to clear his throat.

  “Boy, spit it out. Whatever’s wrong, we can fix it. We always have.”

  “I’m not sure this is fixable,” Cutler muttered more to himself than to Trevor.

  “Everything’s fixable, son, especially if you’re on the right side of the law.”

  If only that were true, then he wouldn’t mind relieving his soul of this tremendous burden. But he knew that once he spoke the words they could do irreparable damage.

  But what choice did he have? None. He’d been backed into a corner and his nuts squeezed. That aside, he had to know the truth concerning his birth, if for no other reason than his own sanity.

  “Dammit, son, you’re trying my patience and making me say words your mother doesn’t like.” Trevor smiled, as though trying to relieve the sudden tension between them.

  “Are you my real father?”

  Trevor gasped, then turned as white as a sheet.

  Oh, God, Cutler thought, his guts twisting in a knot that had no possibility of loosening. His father’s face said it all; no words were necessary.

  “Who…where—” Trevor spluttered, only to have those words choke off.

  “Who told me?” Cutler’s voice was harsh. “Was that what you wanted to ask?”

  “No, I mean—” Again his words broke off as Trevor lunged out of his chair and went to the window, where he turned his back to Cutler.

  “I’m not budging until you tell me the truth.”

  “Then you might as well count on staying here. What you’re asking is impossible.”

  Red-hot anger flared inside Cutler, serving to dull the pain to a tolerable level. “You leave me no choice but to talk to Mother.”

  Trevor swung around, stark terror in his eyes. “Don’t you dare say anything to her.” He spat out the words.

  Cutler reeled as if he’d been struck. If his dad had ever spoken to him in that vicious tone, he couldn’t remember it. Trevor had always been the mild-mannered, easygoing one of the two. His mother had torn into his hide verbally too many times to count, but never Trevor.

  “Let it go, son. Let it go.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you have the right to call me son.”

  This time Trevor reeled, actually rocking back on his heels as though he’d been kicked in the teeth. What color had returned to his face drained out again. For a second Cutler feared he might have a stroke or a heart attack.

  “I might not have sired you, but I damn sure raised you. That alone makes you my son. And don’t you ever forget that.”

  Cutler wanted to puke. Damn Edgar Benton to hell for brutally kicking him in the teeth, then leaving him to clean up all the splattered blood.

  “Did you know that Drew Rush was my biological father?” Cutler hadn’t thought he could get those repugnant words past his lips, but somehow he had. He was desperate to know the truth and desperate not to. He felt as if he was being drawn and quartered.

  “The answer to that question will go to the grave with me.”

  “Hiding from the past won’t work anymore. The worms are out of the can.”

  “What’s to keep you from putting them back in?”

  “If this was happening to you, could you do that?”

  “No,” Trevor said with blunt honesty.

  “Enough said.”

  “If your mother finds out you know, it’ll kill her.”

  Cutler clenched his jaw.

  “Tell me how you found out.”

  Cutler related his conversation with Edgar Benton. When he finished, the chicken salad was now hot bile in the back of his throat. Trevor appeared in the same shape, his features having turned from white to sickly gray.

  “Do you think that bastard will follow through with his blackmail scheme?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Trevor closed the distance between them. “I’ve never asked anything of you, have I?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m asking you now. I married Mary because I loved her so much, and wanted to protect her at all costs. Make whatever sacrifice you have to. For your mother’s sake.”

  Nineteen

  Kaylee couldn’t get Cutler off her mind.

  Maybe that was because her dad had grilled her about him while they had eaten lunch, especially after she’d eaten too much and then confided that Cutler had taken her to his ranch.

  The worried look that had been on Edgar’s face seemed to have miraculously disappeared. She had been astounded and said so. “You suddenly look all smug. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

  Edgar appeared affronted. “Me? Why, nothing’s going on with me.”

  “Yeah, right.” Kaylee’s tone brimmed with sarcasm.

  “No, really, sweetheart. I’m just glad to see you having a relationship with a man.”

  “Hey, Dad, listen up. I’m not having a relationship.”

  “Call it what you want, but—”

  “That’s not happening.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  Kaylee scrutinized him with a smile. “Don’t look so glum. I know you have my best interests at heart, but I’m happy with my life just the way it is. You have to accept that and go on with your life apart from me.”

  “I have.”

  She made an unladylike snort. “Then why don’t you ask Rebecca to marry you?”

  Edgar gave her an incredulous look. “Whoa! I’m not ready for that.”

  “Why not?”

  Edgar shifted as though he were on a hot seat. “Sounds like you’re meddling to me.”

  “Ah, now you know how it feels.”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “I deserved that, didn’t I?”

  “Most assuredly.”

  Edgar’s grin faded. “I’m just so used to taking care of you. It’s hard for me to remember that you’re no longer a little gi
rl who depends on me.”

  “Oh, Daddy, I still depend on you, only in a different way and for different reasons.”

  “I want so much more for you—a home and family. I think you want those, too, only you won’t admit it.”

  “That’s because it’s not to be,” Kaylee said with a sigh. “You’re going to have to face that sooner or later. I have, and it makes life so much easier.”

  His features tightened. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  She kissed him on the cheek, then said on a light note, “You have no choice.”

  “Your mother—”

  “Shush.” Kaylee placed a finger against his lips. “If Mom had lived, she would have had to face the same reality as you.”

  Edgar’s features twisted with agony. “You’re asking the impossible. Besides, Cutler McFarland seems to—”

  “Dad, I don’t want to talk about him.” Irritated impatience colored her tone. “He’s off-limits.”

  “I gotta go, anyway. But you haven’t heard the last of Cutler McFarland, my dear.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  When he had walked out, she’d noticed his shoulders seemed to droop a bit more. If only he’d stop trying to micromanage her life, he would be so much better off. She would be so much better off.

  Their conversation kept Cutler in the forefront of her mind, though she didn’t want to think about that scoundrel, not for one second. A sudden pang of guilt struck her. He wasn’t a scoundrel. He was just a man who liked women, who knew how to use his God-given talents to charm them.

  His charm had certainly worked on her.

  He seemed to have taken control of her subconscious, which went against her grain. If only he hadn’t kissed her. The passion he’d evoked in her was like nothing she’d ever felt before. What she’d experienced with Kenny couldn’t compare. When Cutler had touched her, her insides had gone into meltdown. God help her, she’d wanted a lot more than kisses. She’d wanted to feel him inside her.

  “Stop it, Kaylee,” she hissed, feeling her cheeks flame.

  How could she think such thoughts when she knew they would never come to fruition? Never. She was deformed, for heaven’s sake. She’d accepted that. Or so she’d thought.

  What man in his right mind would want to take her to bed? Tears suddenly pricked Kaylee’s eyes. She blinked furiously. She hated it when she got down on herself, when she let her handicap take precedence over her sound judgment.

  Maybe a hot bath would settle her down. It had been another long, difficult day. She and Sandy had signed on two new models. She had met with two new clients. In between she’d put out several office fires.

  And her leg was hurting like a bitch.

  Another reason for the hot bath. It was the panacea she needed both mentally and physically. She had turned on the faucet and made her way back into the bedroom when she heard the doorbell. Frowning, she went back into the bathroom and turned off the water. That was when she peered at the clock and noticed the lateness of the hour. Her frown deepened. Who would be at her door at this time of night?

  If an emergency had occurred with her dad or one of the models, surely she would’ve gotten a phone call. No one just showed up at the front door. Not unless it was someone up to no good. With that thought in mind, Kaylee decided to ignore her uninvited guest and go on about her business.

  But the doorbell kept on ringing.

  “Go away,” she muttered, concluding that whoever was there was either leaning against the chime or had a finger glued to it. Either way, it was a nuisance she didn’t need.

  Her tired leg slowed her down, but she finally made it to the door. She was tempted to turn on the light, but decided against that. Instead, she squinted and looked through the peephole. The moon, combined with the street lamp, provided her with enough light to see her visitor.

  Her breath caught.

  Cutler.

  What was he doing here?

  Her heart raced out of sync and her mouth went dry. What should she do? Since she hadn’t turned on the light, he had no way of knowing she was standing on the other side of the door. She could turn and make her way back to her room and he’d be none the wiser. As to when he would get the message that she either wasn’t home or was ignoring him, she couldn’t say.

  Instead she clicked the dead bolt. The obnoxious noise instantly stopped. She jerked the door open. The sight of him took her breath away.

  “This had better be good,” she said in a terse tone, her eyes roaming over him as he leaned against the column on the porch. His hair was mussed as if he’d been shoveling his hands through it. His face had a black stubble on it. His tie was loosened from the top button on his shirt.

  He looked exhausted, disheveled, angry.

  And absolutely irresistible.

  “That should be obvious,” he said, moving slightly toward her.

  It was then that she smelled his breath. It reeked with alcohol. Bourbon, to be exact. Her blood chilled.

  “Are you going to ask me in?” he asked through a husky drawl.

  Kaylee licked her dry lips. She saw his eyes drop to her mouth and stay there. “Are you drunk?” Her voice sounded thin.

  “No.”

  “But you’ve been drinking.”

  Why she stated the obvious she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because she couldn’t make up her mind what to do with him.

  “What if I have?”

  “All the more reason to go home.”

  “I don’t want to go home.” Cutler’s voice was harsh.

  She’d been right. He was angry. At her? But why? “Cutler, it’s late.”

  His jaw tensed and there was a glint in his eye that she couldn’t quite read. “So?”

  “I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “Then don’t. Let me in.”

  “No.”

  “I had to see you,” he rasped, leaning toward her.

  “Cutler, I—”

  He pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was deep, devouring and breathtaking. His tongue, lashing hers, sent waves of heat through her. If he hadn’t been holding her, she was sure her knees would have buckled.

  “Please,” he muttered between nibbles, “let me come in.”

  Minutes later he was sitting on her sofa with only lamplight softening the room. She perched on the other end, careful not to get within touching distance for fear of landing in his arms again. As it was, her heart hadn’t rebounded from the kiss at the door.

  “I’ll make some coffee.”

  She stood. A hand reached out and circled her wrist. Swallowing hard, she peered down at him. “Let me go.”

  “I don’t want any coffee.”

  “You need some.”

  “That’s not at all what I need.”

  There was an angry tone in his voice as though he resented her and the fact that he was with her. Why was he there? It wasn’t as if he had a gun to his head.

  “Yes, it is.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and made her way into the kitchen. Leaning against the cabinet for support, she took several heaving breaths. Oh, God, she had to get rid of him before something happened she’d regret for the rest of her life. She’d get some coffee down him and then send him on his way. Tomorrow he probably wouldn’t remember anything.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” he said a few minutes later, reaching for the cup in her hand.

  “Yes, I did.”

  He took a drink, then set it on the table beside him. “I’m making a habit of pissing you off, aren’t I?”

  “I’m thinking it’s the other way around.”

  His beautiful mouth tightened. “What makes you say that?” His tone was brusque.

  “Your attitude.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He shifted and when he did, it put him closer to her. She wished now she’d sat in the adjacent chair, rather than on the sofa. He was much too tempting to touch.

  “One of anger
. Even hostility.”

  His mouth stretched even thinner. “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “I agree,” she said softly, casting an uneasy glance at him from under thick lashes.

  Kaylee didn’t know which was more predominant—the anger or the passion radiating from his eyes. This man was driving her crazy.

  Yet she continued to sit next to him as though he weren’t as lethal as a coiled rattlesnake.

  Groaning, he reached for her and once again lowered his lips to hers. As before, the kiss was uncontrolled. It was as if she could taste his raw desire.

  “Damn you,” he whispered, his tongue circling her mouth before his lips traveled down her neck, nibbling on her flesh.

  She moaned, winding her hands in his hair, clinging to him. Even though she didn’t understand what made him angry or why he was taking it out on her, it no longer mattered. His hard body pressing against hers was all that counted. It was what dreams were made of.

  When he began untying the sash on her silk robe she felt the first stirring of panic. Yet she couldn’t pull away. For the moment she was at his mercy.

  “Kaylee.”

  “What?” she murmured, her hands still buried in his hair.

  He licked his way down her neck to her chest. When he licked the tops of her breasts with his tongue, she felt her body cry out, especially when his moist, seeking lips made contact with her lace bra.

  She could feel her blood pulsing through her. “Cutler?”

  His answer was to suck her nipple through the lace. Heat pooled between her thighs.

  “Let it happen,” he whispered at the same time that he popped the hook on the front of her bra, exposing her breasts.

  He sucked in his breath and pulled back. His eyes were filled with desire. “God, is the rest of you this beautiful?”

  She froze. Then, using every ounce of strength she possessed, Kaylee pushed him away, yanked her robe closed and got up.

  “What’s going on, Kaylee?” he asked in a strangled tone. “I know you want me as much as I want you.”

  “Please, just go home.” She couldn’t look at him, and her voice was barely audible. “I’m going to bed. Alone.”