by Judy Duarte
Damn it. Walter Parks jumped up from the desk and grabbed Rowan by the arm. Brenda, hurry up and get in here! This kid is getting blood on the carpet.
Brenda Wheeler, the housekeeper and nanny, came running. She lifted the edge of her apron and pressed it against the side of Rowan’s head. Oh, dear. Sweetheart, what happened?
Rowan had looked at his dad, waiting for Walter to explain that he’d batted him away—hard—without thought of the consequences.
Walter stiffened. Can’t you see I’m busy, boy? I don’t have time to look at crayon chicken scratches. Then he handed Rowan the colorful picture, the gift a small boy had offered his daddy in hopes of being accepted, appreciated. Loved.
Rowan pulled away from Brenda’s embrace, crumpled up the picture and dropped it on the office floor. Then he turned his back on his father and walked away.
It was the very last time he’d cried in front of his old man—in front of anyone, for that matter. And it had been the very last time he’d tried to approach his father like a son.
Walter may have left a red, giant-sized handprint on the side of Rowan’s face, as well as a scar over his left eye. But he’d left a bigger, more painful and longer lasting mark on his son’s heart that rainy afternoon.
Rowan supposed his surly attitude had developed that day, as well. Or maybe that’s when it had reared its head. More than likely, his badass, who-gives-a-damn attitude had been developing ever since his father had his mother locked away.
Louanne placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “Are you okay?”
Yeah, he was okay, even though he was drowning in memories that had come flooding back, memories he wished had never returned. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.”
And he would be.
Rowan no longer gave a squat about being loved or accepted by his old man. He didn’t need Walter Parks, the jewelry empire the man had built or the damn fortune he’d accumulated.
In fact, Rowan didn’t need anyone or anything.
After watching Noah for a while and deciding he hadn’t suffered any more than a black-and-blue knot on his head, Louanne put the baby to bed. Then she returned to the living room, only to find Rowan on the porch.
He stood against the railing, looking into the night. He’d told her he was okay. But she didn’t believe him.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked.
He turned slowly and shrugged. “I don’t see any point in stirring up stuff I’ve been trying to forget for years.”
Louanne sensed Rowan’s anger had to do with the man he’d never gotten along with. And she suspected he’d feel better if he talked about it. “It’s your father, isn’t it?”
Rowan nodded. “Yeah. That’s what’s bothering me. That’s where the anger comes from. My dad never gave a damn about me. He was too caught up in his jewelry mining business to care about any of the kids, particularly one who looked like the wife he had committed to a hospital in Switzerland.”
A thousand thoughts swirled in Louanne’s mind. The first being Rowan’s mention of jewelry. Rowan was part of that Parks family? They had to be worth a king’s fortune and certainly way out of her league. But the second and more unsettling thought was the fact that he’d grown up without a mother.
“I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”
His tortured soul peered out of his gaze, touching something in her heart. “My older brother and sister—the twins, Cade and Emily—remember her. But I don’t. So I can’t say that I missed her.”
She supposed he meant to downplay his loss. But she didn’t buy it. “It must have been tough for you anyway.”
He nodded. “I guess so. For the most part, we were raised by the housekeeper, Brenda. She was good to us. And she was loving. So I didn’t miss out on much.”
Louanne had a feeling that being raised in luxury and affluence couldn’t make up for what Rowan perceived as the loss of both his parents.
“Your dad was a very busy man who worked hard to provide for his family,” she said, in an attempt to defuse some of his anger, his pain.
Rowan clicked his tongue. “Walter Parks worked hard to commandeer an empire for himself to rule over. The man is a spider, keeping his employees and his family within his web of control.”
“Do Emily and Cade feel the same way?”
“I have a younger sister, too. Jessica.” Rowan blew out a ragged breath. “I’m not entirely sure how the others feel. As I grew up, it became obvious that when my father did come around, he favored my brother.”
Louanne held her tongue, letting Rowan bare his soul. His pain. His resentment.
“For as long as I can remember, I was shoved aside to make room for Cade. And by the time I’d reached adolescence, I’d grown to hate my dad. So I rebelled, doing everything I could to make headlines that would embarrass the man.”
“What kind of things?” she asked.
“Nothing serious enough to be a felony, if that’s what you mean.”
That was what she meant. She’d already gotten involved with one man who had a criminal bent, even if Richard appeared to be a pillar of the academic community and hadn’t ever stepped foot in a jail or prison. And she wasn’t ready to involve herself with another one. Not that she and Rowan were involved, but they sure seemed to be leaning in that direction.
“I had my share of high school suspensions,” Rowan said. “The last one came when I borrowed a buddy’s motorcycle and raced around the football field. The janitor had already lined the lanes with lime for an upcoming track meet, and I drove over the top of them, screwing them up.”
Why did she find his rebellion so intriguing? She blamed her curiosity on the renewal of her dreams, or being a budding novelist who studied the workings of character development and internal conflict. But, she suspected, deep inside, she very much wanted to know what made Rowan Parks tick for personal reasons. “Did you make it through high school?”
He nodded. “My grades were pretty decent, in spite of the trouble I got into.”
“What about college?”
“My old man was determined I go to UCLA, but I kept forgetting to send in my application.” Rowan tossed her a wry grin. “I procrastinated a lot, particularly when my dad told me to do something. But I did want an education.”
“So you went to UCLA?”
“Yeah. My application arrived late, so in order to get me admitted, dear old dad had to pull strings and call in some favors—something he thrives on.”
Louanne hadn’t dealt with emotional issues with her parents, not like that. But she’d been champing at the bit to get out of Pebble Creek and spread her wings. “I’d think you would have liked moving away and going to college.”
“I wasn’t home much anyway. But it was good to get away from the high-society digs in San Francisco, where I was considered a black sheep. I think that my dad was glad to see me go, too. But I continued to infuriate him by getting into whatever trouble I could.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I was involved in a couple of pranks that some people might consider petty theft. And then there were a few panty raids.”
“Did you graduate?”
“Nope. I wasn’t looking for that kind of education. Besides, my dad quit paying my tuition, after one of my bigger scandals.”
“Don’t stop now.” She slid him a tolerant smile, wanting to prod him on. “What kind of scandal?”
Rowan took a deep breath and blew it out. “Older women have always found me attractive.”
Louanne didn’t find that surprising. Rowan was drop-dead gorgeous, and she would have been sorely tempted to have an affair with him, if she would have known him back then. In fact, she was sorely tempted now.
“I’m not proud of this, but I was…” He paused for a moment, as though choosing his words. “Let’s just say I became romantically involved with a politician’s wife. And it resulted in a photograph of us in a compromising position. I’d be surprised if you didn’t remember reading about the whole
sordid affair. Some rather interesting versions of it made all the major supermarket tabloids. People in my dad’s circle still whisper about it, especially since the politician lost his bid for reelection.”
“I take it your dad was upset.”
“He was furious. Especially since he’d been the man’s top political supporter and had made a hefty contribution to the reelection campaign.” Rowan glanced at Louanne to see how she had taken his admission.
She studied the hands she held clasped in her lap.
Had he shocked her? Disappointed her? He hoped not, but for some reason, it felt good to come clean, to admit all that stuff he’d bottled up for years.
But he didn’t want to feel better if it meant losing Louanne’s respect.
During that half-assed stint in college, pretty coeds had flocked around him. And even now, he had his choice of relationships. But he’d never spilled his guts in front of any of them. Not like this.
Louanne was different than the others, yet he still hated to reveal his vulnerability. The shame he felt when other people talked about their childhoods, their parents.
She glanced up from her musing. “Is that when you met Sam?”
Rowan nodded. “I already told you about how the guy gave me a purpose in life and encouraged me to set some goals and to dream. When Sam dragged his feet about starting a business with me, I bought a small place in Napa, where I built my own carpentry shop over the garage. And it wasn’t long before I earned enough to tell my father what he could do with the damned trust fund he kept threatening to revoke.”
“I’d think your dad would be proud of your carpentry skills.” She offered him a smile, but it didn’t warm the cold knot in Rowan’s gut.
“I’ve become a master carpenter and have my own shop. I’ve got a business that’s become lucrative. But that’s always been my secret. Emily and Jessica know that I love working with wood, that I make toys for the kids at the homeless shelter and used to, before I left, help with carpentry on the family estate. But that’s about it.”
“Are you close to your sisters?” she asked.
“Yeah. But that’s not a good enough reason for me to go back to California. The night I left my family, I got so angry with my old man, I couldn’t see straight.” Rowan pressed his eyes shut, wishing he could block out the painful scene and shove it back into his subconscious.
But it remained, just as clear as the night it had happened.
Walter Parks had called a family meeting and accused someone of talking about family business to outsiders. The accusation had been voiced to all of them. But the patriarch had been looking at Rowan. I’ve hired a private detective. If I find any of you have talked about the family or the business, I’ll see that you’re cut off without a penny.
It had been the last straw. Afraid we’ll let the world know our mother is in a lunatic asylum in a foreign land? Rowan asked. Afraid someone will find out your diamond dealing isn’t as up-and-up as you would have everyone believe?
Walter surged to his feet. Shut your mouth, boy, or I’ll shut it for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were stirring up trouble just for the hell of it.
Rowan looked at Louanne, wondering how much more he should tell her. Should he reveal family secrets? Should he tell her of his suspicion regarding his father’s business practices?
He chose to keep quiet about that—but not because of his father’s threat. Walter Parks and the whole damn empire he’d created shamed him. “When I stormed out of my old man’s house and took off on my bike, I wanted to escape my family indefinitely and find my own way in the world—a place where no one knew me. And that’s how I ended up in Texas.”
Louanne took his hand, and he caressed her roughened red skin with his thumb. He wished she wouldn’t work so hard, that she could enjoy simple luxuries like a weekly manicure.
As he continued to stroke her warm flesh, he felt that familiar pull. The growing desire to take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly, to make love until dawn. To make everything right in her world, even if he hadn’t ever been able to make it right in his own.
He placed a kiss on the underside of her wrist, where he could feel her steady heartbeat escalate. She was a good woman and deserved so much better than this ranch, so much better than him. “I’ll leave, if you’d like me to.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would I want you to leave?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve got a kid to raise and I’ve been a hellion my whole life. And a lost soul.”
“Do lost souls seek each other out?” She gave his hand a squeeze, then pulled her grip from his. “Don’t answer that. I’m not even sure why I asked.”
Louanne excused herself and left Rowan sitting in the living room. He picked up a gaudy, tarnished-silver picture frame and looked at a photograph of an older couple he didn’t know. He smiled back at them, then replaced the heavy frame where he found it.
He leaned back in the tweed sofa and contemplated his options, his future.
Could he rebuild his life in Pebble Creek? With Louanne and Noah?
The thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as he expected it to.
The days passed, with Rowan going out and helping Pete on the ranch, doing lots of odds and ends, but mostly mending something. The place was falling apart before their very eyes.
In the evening, after dinner, Louanne would boot up her laptop and write, while Rowan and Noah did dishes and played around until bedtime. The baby was getting steadier on his feet by the minute. And it seemed as though Noah was growing more and more attached to Rowan.
It warmed Rowan’s rebel heart to see the kid light up like a casino on the Vegas strip each time he entered the room.
Rowan and Louanne had fallen easily into the roles of man and woman, mother and father. Even husband and wife—minus the sex, of course, but not the attraction.
They steered clear of touching each other, but a heated charge electrified the atmosphere whenever they moved within arm’s length of each other. Hell, it sparked and flashed whenever their eyes met.
And quite frankly, Rowan was getting tired of avoiding the issue. He wanted Louanne something fierce, and if his instincts were any good—and they were—she wanted him, too.
This morning, after passing her in the hall on his way from the shower, after seeing her hair loose and free of the braid, after brushing against her denimclad hip, catching a whiff of the peppermint toothpaste she’d used, he damn near grabbed hold of her and kissed her senseless.
He hadn’t, though—mostly because Noah had started fussing from his crib and Rowan didn’t have the time to kiss her as thoroughly as he’d wanted.
But he didn’t plan to fight the urge much longer.
While working out in the south pasture with Pete, the sun beating down on his back, and the fresh air taunting his senses, Rowan decided to do something about the passion brewing between him and Louanne.
“Do you and Aggie have plans for this evening?” he asked the older man.
Pete lifted the worn Stetson from his head, then swiped an arm across his sweaty brow. “Nothing out of the ordinary. What’s on your mind?”
“I’d like you to keep Noah for a while.” Rowan wasn’t sure if the older man knew exactly what was on his mind, but to be on the safe side, he added, “I’d like to take Louanne into town for dinner.”
“She won’t go,” Pete said. “But it’s a nice thought, and I guess it won’t hurt to ask her.”
If Louanne said no, Rowan had another plan in the works. He’d make a romantic dinner for two—under the stars and away from the run-down ranch house that had become a prison of her own making.
It had been a long time since Rowan had seduced a woman. And even then, the idea hadn’t been half as arousing as the thought of making love with Louanne.
“Aggie and I are taking off tomorrow on our road trip,” Pete said, “so it’ll be nice to spend some time with Noah this evening. In fact, he goes to sleep prett
y early. Why don’t we keep him overnight so you don’t have to haul him back to Louanne’s place? Aggie has a crib for him in our spare room.”
“Sounds like a great idea to me.” Rowan went back to work, eager for the sun to set.
He had plans for the evening.
And if all went well, he hoped his dinner plans would last until breakfast.
Chapter Eleven
After working all day in the sun, mending fences with Pete and building up an honest, feel-good sweat, Rowan entered the house through the service porch door and found Louanne in the kitchen. She’d just pulled a cast-iron skillet from the cupboard. A butcher-wrapped package sat on the counter.
She looked up when he walked in, her eyes lingering on him, just as his remained on her. A wisp of honey-brown hair had escaped the braid she always wore and rested along her cheek. She opened her mouth, as though she wanted to say something, but didn’t speak.
And neither did he. He was content to bask in the sensual, pheromone-spiked aura that surrounded them, to study her simple, down-home beauty.
Her eyes lit up and her lips curled, setting off something warm and fluttery in his chest.
How could a woman dressed in faded jeans and worn cotton turn him inside out with a smile?
Rowan wouldn’t say that Louanne was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she was by far the most attractive, the most intriguing. And she was the only one who’d reached deep inside of him, touching something soft and hidden.
He wanted to sweep her into his arms, give her a Baby-I’m-home kiss, then ask how her day was and tell her all about his. He wanted to place his hand possessively upon the curve of her hip, pull her close and let her know he planned to make love all night long.
Sheesh. Could he get any sappier than that?
He broke eye contact and scanned the kitchen, trying to put his thoughts in perspective. “Where’s Noah?”
“Aggie took him for a walk. So I thought I’d fix dinner. I hope quesadillas and a taco salad sound all right with you.”
“Actually,” he began, “Pete said he and Aggie would baby-sit for us this evening. So I was wondering if you’d like to go into town and have dinner with me.”
