Man on a Mission

by Carla Cassidy

  She stepped outside with him. The warm night air wrapped around them, and the stars winked down from the black velvet sky.

  “It was fun, Mark.” Her voice was soft, and she stood close enough to him that her floral scent teased him.

  “Yeah, it was,” he agreed. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped off the porch.

  “Aren’t you going to collect on your bet?”

  He turned to look at her, intending to laugh off the silly bet. But any laughter that might have surfaced died as desire welled up inside him.

  There was an aching vulnerability in her eyes, a sweet acceptance of whatever he chose to give her, or whatever he chose to withhold.

  He pulled his hands from his pockets and rejoined her on the porch, unable to fight what felt so inevitable. Before he even reached for her, she tilted her face upward in anticipation of their kiss.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her tight to him, the desire he’d fought all evening now wild and running through his veins. Her mouth opened beneath his, welcoming him.

  An eternity seemed to pass before he finally broke the kiss, breathless and hungry for more. The intensity of his hunger shocked him. He’d thought that making love to her that first and only time would be enough to satisfy him. But that initial experience had only stirred a deeper, more profound hunger inside him.

  He dropped his arms from around her and swallowed hard, fighting to control his need for her. He didn’t want to need her. He didn’t want to need anyone.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said, then turned and walked away, mentally running as fast as he could to escape his own disturbing emotions.

  April remained on her porch for several long minutes, drawing in deep breaths of air in an attempt to ease the tension that coiled tightly inside her.

  Mark’s kiss had stirred longing—the longing to once again be held in his arms, to feel his naked body against her own. Her entire being ached with the memory of making love with him, and she wanted it to happen again and again and again.

  She sank down on the stoop and tilted her head back so she had a panoramic view of the sky overhead. It was impossible to blame her feelings on a coyote moon. That phase had passed and now only half a moon was apparent in the sky.

  For so long, the sum total of her self-identity had been as a mother and caregiver. Now Mark made her feel vibrantly alive as a desirable woman. She’d almost forgotten how wonderfully compelling that could feel.

  But, beyond the obvious sexual attraction, what did he feel for her? He didn’t see himself as a husband or a father. So, what was she doing with him? Was she once again falling in love with the wrong kind of man? A man who couldn’t possibly give her what she desired—a future of happiness together?

  With a weary sigh, she stood and went back into the cottage. She didn’t know the answers. She only knew she felt powerless to fight her feelings for Mark.

  “Mom?” Brian called to her as she started into her bedroom.

  She went into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. “What are you doing still awake?” She reached out and pushed a strand of his hair from his forehead.

  “I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  Brian leaned up and bunched the pillow behind him so he was sitting up a little. “Mark seemed smarter tonight, didn’t he?”

  April grinned. “You just think he was smarter because he beat both of us at poker.”

  Brian didn’t return her smile. Instead his forehead wrinkled with thought. “I’m being serious, Mom. Ricky’s mom told me about Mark getting hurt and that his brain doesn’t work exactly right anymore. But I think it works just fine. Don’t you?”

  April’s smile fell away as she realized the tangle of lies Mark had spun to perpetuate his image of a damaged man. “Mark’s brain works just fine,” she replied.

  “Good enough to be a dad.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  April sighed, unsure how to address Brian’s statement. “Brian, before a man can be a good dad, he has to want to be a dad. I don’t think Mark wants to be a father.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, not in so many words,” she hedged. It was the truth, Mark hadn’t said he didn’t want to be a father, but in saying he had no plans to become a husband, he’d implied the same about fatherhood.

  “If he didn’t tell you that, then you can’t know for sure,” Brian replied. “He just doesn’t know how cool it would be.” He gifted April with a reassuring smile. “I just have to show him what a cool son I’d make.”

  “Honey, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” April protested.

  Brian yawned, then snuggled into his pillow. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’ll be all right.”

  April left the bedroom, her heart breaking for her son. Damn Derrick. Damn Derrick, not for leaving her, but for abandoning Brian without a backward glance. April’s father had momentarily filled the void in Brian, but his unexpected death had only served to reopen the wound of abandonment.

  Brian hoped to fill that void with Mark, but April knew better. Mark seemed to have too many holes in himself to be able to fill anyone else’s.

  So, what was he doing, coming to their cottage, sharing not only time but laughter and pleasure with them? There were times he seemed as needy, as hungry as Brian for some sort of connection.

  He looked at her with want in his eyes, yet when she tried for any emotional closeness, he ran for the hills.

  She undressed quickly and crawled into bed. And what was she doing? Longing for a man’s touch. Not any man, but Mark’s. Even knowing he was a bad bet for the future, she couldn’t stop wanting him.

  If she were strong, she would cut her losses where he was concerned, make sure she was unavailable when those dark gray eyes of his beckoned to her with heat.

  She closed her eyes, summoning the inner strength she knew she possessed. She and Mark had made an initial mistake in making love. She had been weak and foolish to allow it to happen. She would be crazy to compound the mistake by allowing it to happen again.

  By making love to him again, she knew she would tumble from the precipice where she teetered, going from falling in love with Mark to being in love with Mark.

  And she couldn’t allow that to happen. She didn’t think she could handle being in love with the wrong man yet again.

  She awoke the next morning with the strength of her conviction burning inside her like a fever. She needed to direct her relationship with Mark back into safe territory, and that meant no more games of cards, no more nights of talking beneath the moon and definitely no more making love.

  She told herself she wasn’t doing it just for her own sake, but for Brian’s, as well. Apparently, Brian had subconsciously picked up on something between Mark and April, something that made him believe a long-term relationship was a possibility between the two adults.

  But April knew it wasn’t fair to Brian to invite a man into their lives who had no intention of being permanent. Brian had already had more than his share of inconsistent men in his life. He didn’t need another one.

  It was nearly seven when she left her office and headed back to her cottage. It had been an unusually long day. She’d had the office to herself as Walter hadn’t been in. She’d fielded questions from guests, arranged transportation to and from town and tried desperately not to think about Mark.

  She’d shared lunch with Brian, then had sent him to the cottage with a list of chores and the understanding that he was not to leave until she got home that evening.

  She was halfway from the main house to the cottages when Doreen stopped her. “Have you heard?” Doreen asked, excitement vibrating her voice.

  “Heard what?”

  “They found Lenny Boles.”

  “What? Where?” April grabbed Doreen’s hands. “Did he confess to killing Marietta? To hurting Mark?”

  “He didn’t confess to anything. He’s dead, apparently murdered. And from what
I heard, he’s been dead for a long time.”

  “Oh, no…” April’s voice trailed off with disappointment. She’d hoped in finding Lenny, they’d have all the answers and Mark could finally find some peace. But if Lenny had killed Marietta, then who had killed Lenny?

  “His body was found someplace out in the desert. The word is he’s been dead since about the time Marietta was murdered.”

  “Where’s Mark? Does he know?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a powwow going on in the stables. I’d guess he’s in there with his family and the sheriff. Both Johnna and Luke showed up a few minutes ago.”

  April looked toward the stables, where several officers were standing before the doors, looking officious and somber. She wondered how Mark was taking the news, exactly what Lenny Boles’s death meant to Marietta’s murder.

  She wanted to talk to Mark, to offer comfort if he needed it. But she couldn’t very well burst into a meeting behind closed doors. She’d have to wait.

  “This certainly kinks up our initial speculation that Boles was responsible for Marietta’s death and Mark’s injuries,” Sheriff Broder said, a deep frown creasing his broad forehead.

  “That’s certainly the understatement of the year,” Johnna said dryly.

  Broder ignored her. “From the initial examination of the body, I’d say Boles died about the same time as the Lopez woman.”

  “And that certainly sets up an interesting question. If Boles killed Marietta, then who killed Boles?” Matthew looked from one to the other, his face pale with stress.

  The stress of guilt? Mark watched his brothers’ and sister’s faces carefully, looking for the whisper of secrets in their eyes, the hint of subterfuge.

  The discovery of Lenny Boles’s body had shocked Mark. Although he’d never really believed the man had been responsible for the attack, he hadn’t expected Boles to turn up dead.

  “We’re going to have to reinterview folks around here,” Sheriff Broder said. “Somebody has to know something about this.”

  “Is it possible to keep this investigation low-key?” Matthew asked. “I don’t want our guests upset by all this.”

  The ranch, Mark thought. Matthew was always thinking first and foremost about the ranch. Mark turned his gaze to Johnna. She had always professed to hate the ranch. Would she involve herself in something illegal in order to cause the final demise of the place?

  And then there was Luke, the wild one of the group. If he’d become involved in anything illegal, it would have been more for the thrill than for any real profit.

  Suddenly Mark was sickened, sickened by the deaths that had occurred, sickened by his own tortured thoughts. “You might check Larry Greco,” he said to Broder.

  Jeffrey Broder’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What do you know about Greco?”

  Mark shrugged. “Just that he comes around here a lot.” It was all Mark was willing to offer. He grinned vacuously. “Larry and Billy are friends.”

  “Billy Carr?” Broder asked.

  Mark nodded. “Can I go now?”

  “Is there anything more we can do here?” Luke asked.

  “I suppose we’re through for now,” Sheriff Broder replied. “I’ll keep you all posted on what we discover.”

  The moment the sheriff dismissed them, Mark quickly saddled up his horse. He had to get away from here…get some breathing room…some thinking room.

  Once he was on the back of his horse, he exploded from the stables, giving the horse full rein, allowing the hot air to whip him in the face, whip all feeling, all thoughts out of his head.

  April saw Mark leave the stable, riding as if he was attempting to outrun demons.

  She turned to her friend. “Doreen, would you mind keeping an eye on Brian? I really need to talk to Mark.”

  “Go. Don’t worry about Brian. He can spend the night with us. I’ll go get him right now.” She released April’s hands and shooed her away.

  April flashed her a grateful smile, then turned and raced for her car. She hoped he was riding for his place, hoped she could find his house on her own.

  Surely now he’d realize it was time to drop his pretense and go to the sheriff with everything he knew.

  Dusk was falling as she parked in front of the house. A light shone from the kitchen window, and his horse was tied out front, letting her know he was indeed there.

  He answered the door at her first knock. “April, what are you doing here?” He pulled her inside and closed the door.

  She saw the tension that drew his features taut, the shadows of darkness that clung in the depths of his eyes. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “I’m all right.” He led her to the sofa. After she sat, he sank down heavily next to her, as if the weight on his shoulders was too massive to handle. He raked a hand through his hair and looked at her. “Two dead people and no suspects. No, I guess I’m not okay after all.”

  She leaned toward him and placed a hand on his forearm, feeling the tension that gripped his body. “Mark, I’m afraid for you. Go to the sheriff, tell him what you know. Go to your family, tell them the truth.”

  “The discovery of Boles’s body doesn’t change anything as far as I’m concerned,” he countered. He raked a hand through his hair once again. “I still don’t know who to trust.”

  “But you have to trust somebody,” she exclaimed, and tightened her grip on his arm. At that moment she recognized it was too late for her to hold back from loving him. She already did.

  He shook his head. “Sooner or later I’m going to figure out what’s going on, what had Marietta so frightened and ultimately what got her killed. I’ve got to do this my way.”

  “Why?” She pulled her hand back from him, anger coursing through her. “Why does it have to be your way? Why do you have to do this all alone?”

  He stood up, his eyes suddenly blazing with an anger of his own. “Because that’s the way it’s always been, that’s the way I’ve always been—alone.”

  He paced back and forth in front of her, energy wafting from him. “I’ve never been able to depend on anyone but myself. Something is wrong here at the ranch, and I’ve got to figure out what it is.” His hands clenched at his sides. “I need to fix things.”

  A sudden realization came to April’s mind. “Why, Mark? Why does it have to be you alone that fixes things?” She got up and approached him, halting when she stood mere inches from him.

  “It just has to be this way.” His eyes were dark pools of pain, and April saw not only the man, but the tormented little boy who desperately needed his father’s approval.

  “Mark, your father is dead. You can’t be the hero that saves the ranch for him.”

  For a brief moment she thought she’d gone too far, spoken too freely. He seemed to rise in height, expand in breadth, and a flash of rage sparked in his eyes.

  He glared at her as if she were personally responsible for everything—for his father’s indifference, for Mark’s dysfunctional relationship with his siblings, for his suspicion of them, for the very core of loneliness she’d sensed in him.

  She gasped as he grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her toward him. “Don’t you understand?” His voice was less anger and more anguish. “I have to do this for me. I have to know that I can do something worthwhile, that I’m important.”

  April’s heart wept for him. Although her father and Derrick had taken much from her, she’d never lost her sense of self-worth. She placed the palms of her hands on the sides of his face. “Mark, I believe you’re important and worthwhile. I believe in you.”

  Her words seemed to transform whatever anguish, whatever anger he’d been feeling, into something very different. His eyes once again blazed, but this time with a need that stole her breath away.

  He crashed his lips down to hers in a kiss that shouted of hunger and need. At the same time his arms surrounded her and pulled her so close she felt that he was attempting to pull her into him.

  Someplac
e in the back of April’s mind she knew what was about to happen, but her earlier conviction seemed unimportant as Mark’s kiss devoured all other thought but his need for her and hers for him.

  Chapter 11

  While their initial lovemaking had been slow and easy—the tentative exploring of new lovers—there was nothing slow or easy about it this time.

  Mark’s kiss consumed her with fiery need as his hands stroked down the length of her back. When he reached the small of her back, he pressed her harder against him, letting her know the full extent of his arousal.

  His mouth left hers, trailing hot kisses down the side of her neck. His hands moved up beneath her T-shirt, caressing the bare skin of her back, but the caressing lasted only a moment before he pulled the shirt over her head.

  Even if she’d wanted to protest, had wanted to halt him, he gave her no opportunity, sweeping her into a maelstrom of passion that made thought of anything but him impossible.

  She didn’t know if he removed her clothes or she did. She only knew that moments later they were both naked and on the floor of the living room.

  There was little foreplay, their desire for each other too great to spend time caressing or stroking. She already felt as if they’d indulged in hours, days of foreplay. She was ready for him, had been ready since the moment of his initial kiss.

  His hands moved to the sides of her face as he kissed her with a depth that consumed her. At the same time he entered her, filling her with pulsating heat.

  Frantic, with a touch of desperation, they moved together. April was unsure what forces drove Mark, but she knew the force that drove her—love.

  She had no idea when exactly she’d fallen in love with Mark. Perhaps it had been that morning when she’d seen him with Brian, polishing saddles in the stable, when he’d shown eternal patience and kindness to a child who desperately needed those qualities.

  Or maybe her love for him had blossomed amid the magic of their first kiss beneath a big coyote moon. It really didn’t matter when she’d fallen in love with him. What mattered was the depth and breadth of her love for him.