“He’s not going away,” Karen said with an air of resignation. “I guess I’ll have to make the best of it.”
“I can kick him out,” Gina offered.
“You and who else?” Grady demanded, regarding Gina with amusement.
Gina’s gaze strayed to her mysterious man. “I can muster up some help if I need it,” she declared.
“No need,” Karen said. “Grady will be on his good behavior.” She looked at him. “Won’t you?”
He winked. “The best. And I’m a really big tipper.”
Gina grinned then, apparently satisfied that there would be no fireworks. “I’m counting on it.”
After she’d gone, Grady looked at Karen. “She’s very protective of you.”
“As you’ve figured out by now, I’m sure, there are five of us who grew up together. We’ve been best friends ever since. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do if one of us needed something.”
“And these are the friends who are willing to bankroll your vacation?”
“Some of them, yes.”
“It must be nice to have a circle of friends you can count on.”
Her gaze narrowed at that. “Don’t you?”
“I have acquaintances,” he said with no trace of self-pity. “And I have my grandfather. That’s always been enough.”
She thought she detected a rare note of wistfulness in his voice. “It has been? Not now?”
His gaze met hers. “No,” he said quietly. “Not now.”
Deep inside, she felt something give way. It was the last of her defenses crumbling…and for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to regret it.
* * *
Even though she’d been anticipating—no, dreading—the call, hearing Anna Hanson’s voice on the phone first thing the next morning would have been disconcerting enough for Karen under any conditions. But Grady had arrived not five minutes earlier. He was standing right next to her. That was enough to fill her with guilt. Added to the discovery she’d made the night before about just how vulnerable she was to this man and the guilt tripled.
“Anna,” she said with forced enthusiasm. “How good to hear your voice.”
“Is it?” Anna said in that dire tone that meant she had plenty to say to Karen, none of it good.
Anna Hanson hadn’t entirely approved of her son’s choice of a wife for reasons that had never been clear. Maybe she would have resented any woman chosen by her only son.
And when Caleb had died, Anna had all but said she believed Karen was responsible in some way. Had she known that Karen, in fact, blamed herself, she would have thrown it in her face at every opportunity. Even as it was, the tension between them had been thick ever since the funeral. Anna called only when she felt duty-bound to check in on the condition of the ranch, and seemed to have no concern about how Karen was managing with her grief.
“Of course it’s good to hear from you,” Karen said, scowling at Grady, who rolled his eyes, clearly aware of the reason for this call. “How’s everything in Arizona? Is Carl doing okay?”
“He’d be much better if we hadn’t been hearing certain things,” Anna said, her tone grim.
Karen barely contained a sigh. At least the woman hadn’t wasted any time getting to the point. “What things?”
“That you and that terrible Grady Blackhawk have been carrying on.”
“Excuse me?” Karen said, though she was less stunned by the accusation than she would have been if Gina hadn’t warned her that rumors were circulating about the night of the storm. She was only surprised that they’d taken so long to reach her in-laws.
“The first time I heard it, I dismissed it,” Anna claimed, sounding self-righteous. “But we’ve had three calls this morning alone. Apparently everyone in the entire region knows that he’s spending every single day at the ranch with you. That was bad enough, but then he was there overnight. Was he sleeping with you in my son’s bed?”
Karen had always tried to ignore her mother-in-law’s attitude for Caleb’s sake. She had wanted a smooth co-existence, if a friendship was impossible. But Caleb was no longer a consideration. She no longer had to bite her tongue. Years of pent-up anger roared through her.
“How dare you,” she said sharply, aware that Grady had moved closer and laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. She shuddered at the contact, especially given the context of the conversation, but she didn’t move away.
“I loved your son,” she told Anna emphatically. “I never gave him or you any reason to doubt that. I certainly wouldn’t do anything disrespectful of his memory under his roof.”
“Then why is that man there every single day? Why did he spend the night? And how could you be seen in public with him last night, flaunting your affair in front of our friends?”
Karen wasn’t exactly certain how to answer that. “He stayed the night because he was stranded by the storm. And whether you want to believe me or not, there is no affair.”
“If you say so,” Anna said skeptically. “But that doesn’t explain what he’s been doing there in the first place.”
“He’s been helping out.”
“You surely don’t need the help of the likes of Grady Blackhawk. Or are you running the ranch into the ground?” Anna asked bitterly.
Karen restrained her temper. Another outburst would solve nothing. “Anytime you and Carl would like to come back and take over running this place, you’re more than welcome to. In fact, I’d be delighted to sell it back to you,” she said to remind the woman of the fact that she and Caleb had taken out a mortgage of their own to pay his parents the money they needed to retire. It was the size of that mortgage that had kept them in debt, but Caleb had insisted it was only fair.
“Well, I never…” Anna said. “I’m going to put Carl on. Maybe he can get through to you.”
Karen’s relationship with Caleb’s father had always been more cordial. He had been as hardworking as his son. In fact, if it had been up to Carl, he would have stayed on after the funeral to help out, but Anna had been insistent that they needed to get back to Arizona where she had a brisk social calendar lined up, now that she was happily ensconced in a fancy retirement village.
“Don’t mind Anna,” he said the minute he got on the line. “She just took Caleb’s death real hard. She doesn’t mean half of what she says.”
“But the other half, she does,” Karen pointed out wryly. “I’ve never known which half to listen to.”
“Neither, would be my advice,” he said. “You doing okay, Karen? Hank and Dooley giving you enough help?”
“We’re managing.”
“What about this Blackhawk fellow? Has he been hanging around, like Anna hears?”
Karen sighed, glancing over at the man in question. “He wants the ranch. He’s made an incredible offer.”
Maybe Carl would tell her to go ahead and sell. If she had his permission, maybe this wouldn’t continue to eat away at her, and she could get away from the ranch and from Grady, finally escaping all the memories that haunted her here, good and bad.
“I don’t want that ranch in Blackhawk hands,” Carl said flatly. “If you want to get out, I can understand that. Nobody knows better than I do what a thankless task it is trying to keep a small ranch running in the black. Just promise me you’ll sell to anybody but him. Why should that man be rewarded after all the sneaky, conniving things he and his family have done to us through the years?”
Karen didn’t have an argument for that. Grady had been working hard to prove that she’d misjudged him, but he hadn’t offered any proof at all that he hadn’t been behind the sabotage of their herd. Someone had infected those animals and set fire to that pasture. If not Grady, then who? Until she knew for certain, Carl was right. She couldn’t sell to Grady.
“I won’t do anything at all without
talking it over with you,” she promised her father-in-law.
“That’s good enough for me. You take care of yourself, Karen. I don’t want you wearing yourself out at your age out of some misguided sense of loyalty, you hear me? If the time comes when you can’t do it or even if you just decide you want a different life, then you grab your chance. I love that land, but it’s just land. It’s not worth dying for, the way Caleb did.”
“I love you,” she said to him, tears stinging her eyes.
“You, too. You were a good wife to my boy and I will always be grateful to you for that.”
Karen slowly hung up the phone, not daring to look at Grady.
“The Hansons, I presume,” he said caustically. “Did they manage to restore your sense of purpose?”
“I’m not going to discuss them with you,” she said, already reaching for her coat. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Where are you going?” he asked as she pushed past him.
“To the barn. Not all of us have time to fritter away.”
He stopped her in her tracks. “Is that what you think I’m doing around here, frittering away my time?”
Her gaze clashed with his. “Isn’t it? You have plenty of people working for you, I’m sure, people who do whatever needs doing on your ranch. I don’t. If something needs to be done around here, I do it myself.”
She jerked away from his grasp and ran outside, tears streaking down her face, all but turning to ice in the frigid February air. She headed straight for the barn and Ginger’s stall, leaning against the horse for comfort, absorbing her body heat.
When her tears had dried and her nerves settled, she reached for a brush and began grooming the horse as a reward for her patience. The steady strokes were soothing to both of them. Eventually she was calm enough to think about what had just happened, not just on her phone, but in her kitchen.
She had taken Anna’s attack out on Grady, no doubt about it. She’d figured he deserved it, since he was the cause of it. The plain truth was, Anna had ladled on guilt and Karen had accepted it because she was riddled with guilt already. Then she had lashed out at the cause.
She owed him an apology. She was the one who’d agreed weeks ago and again the night before to his visits. She had known there would be talk, known deep down that sooner or later it would reach Caleb’s parents and that there would be a price to pay.
What was one more disagreement, one more disapproving lecture, from a woman who hadn’t been any less critical when Caleb had been alive?
Finished in the barn, Karen walked slowly back to the house, where she overheard Grady on the phone.
“I want it taken care of today, do you understand me? This has dragged on long enough.”
Her heart thudded wildly at the implication. Was he tired of trying to outwait her? Was he somehow going to force the issue?
She let the door slam behind her and stood in front of him, her pulse thundering. “What was that about?” she demanded. “What are you up to now?”
The dismay on his face seemed proof enough of his treachery.
“You will not get this ranch,” she said, jabbing a finger in his chest. Because it felt so good, she did it again, and then again, until tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was pounding on him with her fists. “You won’t, dammit! I won’t let you.”
Grady let her rant until she wound down. Then he gathered her close, murmuring soothing, nonsensical words. Slowly she relaxed against him. Every inch of her was suddenly awakened to the sensation of their bodies pressed together, of his arms tight around her, his breath fanning her cheek.
“It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay,” he reassured her. “That call wasn’t about the ranch, I promise. It was about something else entirely.”
She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe she had misunderstood, but how could she? She lifted her head from his chest to look into his eyes. What she saw there was even more troubling than the treachery she’d suspected. There was hunger and yearning and the kind of seething passion she’d almost forgotten existed.
His gaze locked with hers, he tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks. His thumb caressed her mouth. The flash of heat in his eyes turned brighter. The air around them suddenly felt charged with electricity…and with anticipation.
And then, before Karen could guess his intentions, his mouth covered hers. The kiss was everything she’d ever imagined—and feared. It was devastating. It was pure temptation.
And Grady had stolen it.
If he could steal a kiss so cleverly when she’d been furious with him only moments before, would stealing the land she’d grown to despise be any challenge for him at all?
CHAPTER 8
The first time Grady kissed her, Karen reacted with shock and dismay. How could she have let it happen? Why hadn’t she stopped it, slapped him, done anything to show her displeasure?
A quick peck on the lips could be explained away as a hit-and-run gesture, hardly worthy of protest, but this had been more than that. It had gone on and on. There had been plenty of time for the act to register and draw an appropriate protest, rather than weak-kneed compliance.
The taste and feel of him was still on her lips as she took a step back and then another, trembling with what should have been outrage but wasn’t.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded, her back braced against the sink as she finally—belatedly—put as much distance as possible between them.
“Because I’ve been wanting to forever,” he said, not looking the least bit remorseful. In fact, he looked suspiciously as if he might intend to do it again.
And, God help her, Karen wanted him to. Her pulse was thundering like a summer storm. Her breasts ached. Any second the temptation to reach for him, to slip back into his embrace, would be too much for her.
There was no time to recite all the reasons why it was a terrible idea. Instead, she counted slowly to ten and back again, as if that alone would cool her yearning, as the same technique was used to temper anger.
She heard Grady’s low chuckle and her gaze snapped to his to find amusement lurking in his eyes. “What?” she demanded.
“It’s not going to work,” he told her, clearly understanding the mental war she was waging. “I’m not going away and I am going to kiss you again. There’s your fair warning. Never let it be said you didn’t get one.”
She swallowed hard, accepting the warning as pure truth. All that remained was the anticipation.
“When?” she asked, hoping that knowing that much would give her time to prepare, time to win the struggle with a desire that had caught her by surprise.
He tilted his head, studied her intently, then responded solemnly, “Now, I think. Before you work yourself into a frenzy worrying about it.”
She gulped even as he claimed her mouth yet again with even more ingenuity, more wickedly clever passion. This time Karen wasn’t simply an innocent bystander to the kiss, either. She kissed him back, responding to every persuasive nuance. All those protests and denials had been for nothing, because there was no mistaking that she was as caught up in the moment as he was.
Her head was spinning, her pulse racing. There was so much heat—too much. And the neediness, the overwhelming sense of urgency slammed through her with unexpected force, leaving her reeling. She had never expected to feel like this again, certainly never with Grady Blackhawk.
His name, his identity, finally snagged her attention, cutting through all the other commanding sensations. She was appalled and shaken that she was willingly in the arms of the enemy, though it was getting harder and harder to think of him that way.
Even so, it took her a long time to disengage from his embrace, longer still to take a faltering step back.
“This is my proof,” she murmured, still dazed from the feel of his mouth on her
s, but determined to inject a haughty note of disdain into her voice.
“Proof of what?” he said as he trailed more kisses down the side of her neck.
“That you’re a scoundrel and a thief. You stole that kiss,” she accused, managing to get the words out with a straight face, even though she knew it was a blatant lie. He had stolen nothing. She had given it to him willingly.
Laughter filled the air. Evidently he was no more convinced of the lie than she was.
“Maybe the first one, darlin’,” he conceded. “But the second one you gave me of your own free will. You can’t count that one against me, and I’d say it negates the implications of the first one. Once two people start to tango, so to speak, the blame pretty much falls by the wayside.”
She frowned at him. “You would say that, wouldn’t you? It serves your purpose.”
“And what is my purpose?” he asked, studying her with mild curiosity.
“To get my land,” she said at once, but she was no longer as certain as she had once been. A part of her was beginning to believe that he just might be after her, instead.
* * *
Grady went home that night and called his private detective, the one he’d had working for weeks to find out who might be behind the sabotage intended to take out the Hanson herd. Karen had walked in on him when he’d called Jarrod Wilcox earlier from her kitchen. He wanted to reemphasize to the man the urgency of the investigation. He needed results fast. He was growing less and less certain about why, though.
At first, he’d merely wanted Karen to know the truth so she could begin to trust him. He’d hoped that that would be the first step to getting her to sell the ranch to him. Now it was all tangled up in something personal. He wanted her trust, because he couldn’t bear to see that condemning look in her eyes one more time.
“I told you this afternoon that this is all but impossible,” Jarrod told him. “For one thing, the incidents took place a year ago or more. If there was any kind of physical evidence, it’s long gone. Seems to me like you’re throwing good money after bad by keeping me on your payroll.”
One Last Chance Page 9