by Rita Herron
She reminded him so much of those porcelain dolls his mother liked to collect that, for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
She was petite with long, wavy blond hair, huge oval-shaped baby blue eyes and milky white skin. A faint sprinkle of freckles dotted her dainty nose, making her look young and sweet. But that body told a different story. Her curves had been designed for a man’s hands.
The wind kicked up, swirling her hair around her heart-shaped face, and she shivered and hunched inside her coat.
“Mr. McCullen?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m one of them. Who are you looking for? Maddox? He lives here.”
She shrugged. “Actually I’d like to talk to Ray.”
Her whisper-soft voice sent his heart into fast motion. “That’s me.” Did she need a PI?
She shivered again, then glanced in the entryway. “May I come in?”
He realized she was cold and that he’d been staring, and he stepped aside and waved her in. Good grief. Women didn’t normally cause him to stutter or act like a fool.
But the combination of her beauty and vulnerable expression mesmerized him.
A wary look crossed her face, but she squared her small shoulders and followed him inside to the den. A fire roared in the ancient brick fireplace, the rustic furnishings the same as they had been when Ray lived here years ago.
The manners Mama Mary had instilled in him surfaced. “Would you like some coffee?”
“That would be nice.” She clutched a patchwork homemade shoulder bag to her and sank onto the leather sofa in front of the fire.
He walked over to the sideboard in the adjoining dining area where Mama Mary always kept a carafe of hot coffee, then poured two cups.
“Cream or sugar?” he asked.
“Black,” she said, surprising him. Half the women he met wanted that froufrou fancy flavored coffee and creamer.
He handed her the cup and noticed her hand trembling. She wasn’t simply cold. Something was wrong.
“Now, you wanna tell me what this is about? Did my receptionist at McCullen Investigations tell you where I was?”
Again, she looked confused. “No, I didn’t realize you were a PI.”
Ray claimed the wing chair facing her and sipped his coffee. So, she wasn’t here for a case. “I don’t understand. If you don’t need my services, then what?”
She fidgeted. “I don’t know how to tell you this, except just to be up front.”
That sounded serious.
“My name is Scarlet Lovett. I knew your father, Ray. In fact, I knew him pretty well.”
Anger instantly shot through Ray. He’d been thinking how attractive she was, but he’d never considered that she might have been involved with his old man.
Well, hell, even from the grave, Joe McCullen kept surprising him. And disappointing...
He hardened his look. “Damn, I knew he had other women, but he was robbing the cradle with you.”
Those big eyes widened. “Oh, no, it wasn’t like that.”
“He was a two-timing, cheating liar.” Ray stood and paced to the fireplace as an image of his father in bed with Scarlet flashed behind his eyes. “How long was it going on?” And what did she want?
“Listen to me,” Scarlet said, her voice rising in pitch. “Your father and I were not involved in that way. He was nothing but honorable and kind to me.”
Yeah, I bet he was. He turned to her, not bothering to hide his disdain. “So what do you want?”
She set her coffee down and folded her arms. “He told me you were stubborn and resented him, but he didn’t say you were a jerk.”
Ray angled his head toward her. “You’re calling me names. Lady, you don’t even know me.”
“And you don’t know me.” Scarlet lifted her chin in defiance. “But if you’d be quiet and listen, I’d like to explain.”
Ray’s gaze locked with hers, rage and grief and other emotions he couldn’t define rolling through him.
The same emotions were mirrored in her own eyes.
Needing something stronger than coffee, he set the mug down, then strode to the bar and poured himself a finger full of scotch.
“I’ll have one of those, too,” she said.
He bit back a retort and poured her a shot, then carried the glasses back to the fireplace. He handed her the tumbler, then sank into the wing chair and tossed his back in one gulp. “All right. You want me to listen. Say what you have to say, then get the hell out.”
* * *
SCARLET SHUDDERED AT Ray’s harsh tone. She’d seen pictures of him and his brothers, and knew Ray was the formidable one.
He was also the most handsome. Sure Brett was the charmer and Maddox was tough, but something about that dark, mysterious, haunted look in Ray’s eyes had drawn her.
Maybe because she understood how anger changed a person. She’d dealt with her own share over the years in the children’s home.
But Ray had been lucky enough to have a father who’d wanted him. Even if Joe McCullen hadn’t been perfect.
“So, spill it,” Ray said. “Why are you here?”
“This was a mistake.” She stood, fingers closing over the edge of her bag. “I’ll leave.”
She started past him, but Ray shot up and grabbed her arm. “No way you’re leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
Her gaze met his, tension vibrating between them. She gave a pointed look at her arm where his fingers held her.
“Take your hands off me.”
For a brief second, something akin to regret glimmered in his expression. But he released her and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually manhandle women.”
She wanted to believe him, but she’d met too many men who did. So she refused to let him off the hook.
His loud exhale punctuated the air. “Please sit down. I’ll behave.”
He looked so contrite that a tingle of something like respect danced through her. But she refrained from commenting as another image taunted her. One of Ray’s hands on her, tenderly stroking her, making her feel safe. No, not safe. Alive.
Fool.
Ray McCullen was anything but safe.
And judging from his brusque attitude, he was going to hate her when he learned the reason for her visit.
Chapter Two
Ray struggled to wrangle his temper as Scarlet took a seat again.
When he looked at her, he couldn’t help but think about those damn dolls his mother had loved so much.
Just like them, she was almost too beautiful to be real.
Like them, she looked fragile, like a piece of china that could break if you held it too hard.
Yet she’d stood up to him and had a stubborn set to her chin that made him suspect there was more to her than surface beauty.
He could easily see why his father might have been attracted to her. But God...she was so young...
“I realize what I’m going to tell you may come as a shock,” she said softly, “but it’s what Joe wanted.”
“How do you know what my father wanted?”
Her eyes flickered with uneasiness at his tone. “I told you that I knew him pretty well.”
“So you said. But how did you know him? Was he your sugar daddy?”
Scarlet sucked in a harsh breath. “No. It wasn’t like that, Ray. I met him at The Family Farm outside Laramie.”
“The Family Farm?”
Scarlet nodded. “It’s a home for children without parents, an orphanage. Your father volunteered there. I was ten at the time we met, but he took me under his wing.”
For a moment, Ray couldn’t respond. “I find it hard to imagine my father volunteering with children,” he finally said. “He was a rancher. He worked the lan
d.”
Scarlet shrugged. “He told me once that he had to find a way to atone for his sins. That he hadn’t always been the father he wanted to be, and he hoped giving back to some children without families would help make up for it.”
Ray’s dark gaze met hers, probing, skeptical. “He told you about Horseshoe Creek? About us?”
“Yes,” Scarlet said softly. “He loved you and Maddox and Brett. He was proud of all of you.”
Ray chuckled, but the sound was filled with sarcasm. “He was proud of Maddox. And maybe Brett because of the bull riding. But he didn’t give a damn about me.”
“That’s not true,” Scarlet said. “He loved you and hated what he did to you. That you knew his flaws.”
“That I did.” Ray made no attempt to hide his animosity. “He cheated on my mother with some woman named Barbara. But my mother loved him anyway.”
Scarlet looked away for a second, which made him even more uneasy.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of that worn-out shoulder bag. “I’m sorry, Ray, I didn’t come here to dredge up bad memories.”
“My father just died, Scarlet. Coming home already did that.” He exhaled. “So why did you come here? To tell me Dad did volunteer work?”
“Not just that, but to tell you what he did for me. I was alone and no one wanted to adopt me. But he gave me a home and a family.”
A bead of perspiration trickled down Ray’s neck. “What are you talking about?”
“He took me home to live with Barbara and Bobby. Their last name is Lowman.”
“You lived with my father’s mistress?”
She nodded. “For a while. With her and her son.” She hesitated. “Their son.”
Her words echoed in Ray’s mind as if he’d fallen into a wind tunnel. “Their son?”
Scarlet nodded. “I’m sorry. I...thought he was going to tell you about Bobby before he passed.”
A deep sense of betrayal cut through Ray, and he balled his hands into fists. He wanted to punch something.
He had known about the affair, but not that his father had another son.
* * *
SCARLET’S HEART SQUEEZED at the pain and shock on Ray’s face. She didn’t want to hurt this family, only to honor Joe’s last wishes.
Ray raked a hand through his thick, dark hair, then walked over to the bar and poured himself another shot. He kept his back to her as he stared into the fire, his shoulders rigid.
She glanced around the living room, absorbing its warmth, giving Ray time to process what she’d told him.
She tried to put herself in his place, to understand how he must feel. Her grief over Joe’s death was almost unbearable, and she wasn’t even Joe’s biological family.
She’d always looked up to Joe for the time he’d donated to the children’s home, and had secretly hoped to meet his sons one day, sons that he took pride in and had talked about when Bobby wasn’t around.
Joe and Bobby had a tumultuous relationship. Barbara and Joe had kept an on-again-off-again relationship over the years, but Joe had never married Barbara. He’d also been in and out of Bobby’s life, partly by choice, partly due to Barbara’s moody behavior.
But Joe had admitted to Scarlet once that he’d always loved his wife. No one could ever replace her.
In some ways, Bobby had a right to resent Ray, Maddox and Brett. Although Joe had financially supported him and Barbara, he’d never taken them to his ranch. Even after he lost his wife, he hadn’t shared Bobby with his other three sons.
“So I have a half brother?” Finally Ray turned toward her, a harshness in his eyes. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-six,” Scarlet said.
“Just a little younger than me,” Ray muttered. “Damn my daddy. Even in death, he found a way to screw us.”
“I’m sorry, Ray.” Scarlet fidgeted. “I know this is a shock. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but—”
“But you did come,” Ray snapped. “Because you and Bobby want something? What? Part of Daddy’s money? The ranch?”
Scarlet flinched at his accusatory tone. Although she reminded herself that she’d just dropped a bombshell on Ray at a time when he was grieving. Lashing out was a natural reaction.
But Joe McCullen’s words in that heartfelt letter echoed in her head. She had loved Joe, and even though he’d made mistakes in his life, he’d cared about her.
Ray must have read her silence as a yes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want part of Horseshoe Creek?”
“Ray, please,” Scarlet said, her voice quivering. “It’s not like that.”
Ray’s jaw tightened. “Then how is it? You simply came to tell me you’re sorry my father is gone? That he has another son, but that he doesn’t want part of Dad’s legacy?”
Actually Bobby would want part of it. And Joe had made arrangements for him, only there were stipulations attached to it. She didn’t know what those stipulations entailed, but whatever they were, Bobby would balk.
“I won’t lie to you, Ray. I am here because your father left me something.” She pulled the letter from her bag. “I had no idea he’d included me or Bobby in his will, but he did. A lawyer named Bush contacted me about the reading.”
“Just as I thought,” Ray said, animosity dripping from every word.
Self-preservation kicked in. “Listen, Ray, I didn’t ask for this. And I don’t think Bobby even knows yet. He and Joe didn’t get along, and Bobby’s had problems in the past, so I don’t know what to expect from him now.” She shoved the letter toward Ray. “Just read this letter your father wrote me.”
Ray’s dark gaze latched with hers, tension stretching between them, filled with distrust.
Her hand trembled as she waited for Ray to take the letter. When he snatched it, she finally released the breath she’d been holding, sank back in the chair and struggled to calm her nerves.
But the sight of Ray’s big, tough masculine profile haloed by the orange-and-yellow firelight aroused feminine desires that she’d never felt. Desires that she had no right to feel for the man in front of her.
Desires that couldn’t lead to anything.
But something about his strong jaw, that heavy five o’clock shadow and the intensity in his eyes reminded her of Joe. Joe, the man who’d been like a father to her.
Joe who’d sent her here to meet his sons.
She clutched her drink glass again and sipped it. The warm scotch slid down her throat, warming her. Yet the alcohol also reminded her of Joe.
Why had he put her in this awkward position?
He had to have known that Ray and his brothers wouldn’t welcome her or want to share any part of their family ranch. That they would be angry, and that the truth would turn their world upside down.
* * *
RAY LEANED AGAINST the hearth as he studied the paper Scarlet had handed him. It appeared to be a handwritten letter to her.
In his father’s handwriting.
My dearest Scarlet,
I was blessed to have sons. But I never had a daughter—until I met you.
That first line knocked the breath from his lungs. But he forced himself to read further.
By the time he finished, his gut was churning. These were his father’s words. His father’s sentiments.
Betrayal splintered through him.
Scarlet wasn’t lying. His father had loved her, had lead a life that he’d kept from his sons.
What were Maddox and Brett going to say? They didn’t even know about Barbara...
“I realize this is a shock to you,” Scarlet said softly. “It was to me, too.”
Still suspicious though, Ray narrowed his eyes, determined to see the truth beneath the pretty exterior. She was dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, boots, her long blond hair
natural, and she wore little makeup or jewelry.
Not his idea of what a gold digger would look like.
But who was to say she hadn’t conned his father into writing this when he was ill or on medication?
He’d worked as a PI long enough to know that con artists came in all shapes and sizes, that sometimes the most charming, alluring face hid a devious side beneath.
Scarlet had grown up in an orphanage. Wasn’t it common for children who grew up without parents or in troubled homes to have mental problems? Maybe she wanted a family so badly that she’d latched on to his father and had taken advantage of him in a weak moment and convinced him to take her in.
He cleared his throat. He needed more information before he showed this to his brothers. “Where did you get this letter?”
“It came registered yesterday.” She gestured toward the envelope. “You can see the return address on the envelope.”
Ray hadn’t paid attention to it, but he flipped the envelope over and noted the name of a law office. Bush Law, Darren Bush, attorney-at-law.
Darren Bush was his father’s lawyer. So she hadn’t lied about that.
“You realize I’ll need to make sure this is legitimate.”
Scarlet bit down on her lower lip. “Yes, but...I’d like the letter back. It’s the last thing Joe ever wrote to me.”
He clenched his jaw. “He wrote you other letters?”
Scarlet shrugged. “Not letters, but he gave me cards for encouragement when I lived at The Family Farm. And then on birthdays.”
Resentment bubbled inside Ray. Why had his father treated her so special when he’d ignored him?
Because you knew what he did to your mother. And his anger and bitterness had driven a wedge between the two of them.
But dammit, his father could have tried.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” Scarlet said. “I almost didn’t come. But—”
“But you did,” Ray said again.
“Yes,” she said in a voice that cracked with emotion. “I don’t want the money per se, but I admired Joe and having a piece of the ranch that he cherished means I’ll always have a part of him. I know you and your brothers feel the same way.”
