by Sandra Brown
“And was willing to take the risks, is that it?”
“Precisely.”
“Just what is it you do in bed that’s so damn great it can separate a man from his better judgment?”
“I won’t even honor that with a response,” she shot back angrily. “Do you think Clark was the only one to suffer consequences?” She splayed her hand over her chest. “I suffered losses too. My career, for instance, which was as important to me as Clark’s was to him.”
“You left the country.”
“What did it matter? Even if I hadn’t gone to Montesangre with Randall, I never would have had an opportunity to practice medicine in and around Washington. I’d still be struggling to practice anywhere if Clark’s guilt hadn’t compelled him to buy me this place.”
“What?” His head snapped back.
Lara sucked in a sharp little breath. Her lips parted in amazement. She could tell that his stunned expression was authentic. “You didn’t know?”
His eyebrows came together in a steep frown above the bridge of his nose.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured. Carefully gauging his reaction, she said, “Clark bought this place from Dr. Patton when he retired, then deeded it over to me.”
He stared at her for several ponderous moments, his gaze so intense it was difficult for her to meet it, but she did so unflinchingly. Confusion and suspicion warred within his eyes. “You’re lying.”
“You don’t have to take my word for it. It’s a matter of public record.”
“I was there when Clark’s will was read. There was no mention of you. I would have remembered.”
“He arranged it that way. Ask your sister. Ask your mother. She’s repeatedly threatened to contest the legality of my ownership, but Clark saw to it that it’s ironclad.” She drew herself up straight and tall. Key’s ignorance of this one fact had given her a distinct edge.
“I didn’t learn about it myself until after his death. His attorney notified me. I was dumbfounded and thought there had to be some mistake because Clark and I had had no contact whatsoever since the scandal.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t give a damn whether you believe it or not,” she snapped.
“So, out of the blue, my brother buys a piece of property worth… what? A couple hundred grand? And gives it to you.” He made a scoffing sound. “Bullshit. You must have put him up to it.”
“I tell you, I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in years,” she insisted. “I didn’t want to. Why would I want to see the man who had let me take the fall for a public scandal, who’d exiled me to that godforsaken place, who’d been indirectly responsible for the death of my—” She broke off.
“Your husband?” Key smiled slyly. “Ah, how soon they forget.”
“No, Mr. Tackett, my daughter.” She turned away only long enough to lift a picture frame from her desk. Holding it at arm’s length, she thrust it at him so that he was nose to nose with the face in the photograph.
“Meet Ashley. My baby. My beautiful baby girl. She was also killed in Montesangre. Or, as you so eloquently put it, she died a martyr’s death in service to her country.” Tears filled Lara’s eyes, blurring her image of Key. Then her arms sprang back with the impetus of pistons, and she clutched the picture frame to her chest.
Key muttered an expletive. After a long moment he said, “I’m sorry about your kid. I was in France at the time and read about it in an English newspaper. I also remember reading that Clark attended the memorial service for Porter and your daughter.”
“Yes, Clark attended, but I wasn’t there. I was still in the hospital in Miami, recovering from my injuries.” Wearily she brushed back a loose strand of hair and returned the frame to her desk. “Your brother made no effort to contact me, and I was relieved. For his part in banishing us to Montesangre, I think I could have killed him if I’d seen him then.”
“You didn’t resent him to the point of rejecting his bequeathal.”
“No, I didn’t. Because of my notoriety, I was turned down for job after job. In all the years since my recovery, I wasn’t able to hold a position for very long—only until the hospital bigwigs linked Dr. Lara Mallory to Lara Porter. It didn’t matter how capably I fulfilled my duties, I was invited to leave.
“Clark must have known that and obviously felt that he owed me something for all that I’d lost. He tried to secure my professional future. Otherwise, why would he buy this facility for me, completely furnished, ready to occupy if I chose to?”
Speculatively she tilted her head to one side. “It’s curious that he drowned only days after adding that codicil to his will.”
His reaction was fiercely defensive. She could see that even before he spoke. “What the hell are you suggesting with that remark?”
“Surely the rumors regarding Clark’s drowning death reached you. There’s speculation that it wasn’t an accident at all, but a suicide.”
“You’re full of shit,” he said, his lip curling. “And so is anybody who gave that rumor a second’s thought. Clark took the boat into the lake to fish. Knowing him, he was too damned hardheaded to keep his life vest on. I wouldn’t have been wearing one of the damned things either.”
“Clark was a strong swimmer. He could have saved himself.”
“Ordinarily,” he said curtly. “Something must have happened.”
“Like what? There was no storm that day, no evidence of trouble with the outboard motor. The boat didn’t capsize. What do you think happened?”
He worked his inner cheek between his teeth but didn’t come up with an answer. “All I know is that my brother wouldn’t have taken his own life. And whatever reasons he had for giving you this place, he took to the grave.”
“His reasons don’t really matter, do they? I’m here.”
“Which brings me back to my original question. Why would you want to come here? Clark was Eden Pass’s favorite son. You’re considered nothing but a whore who destroyed his political future. My mother will see to it that no one forgets that.”
Considering the angry mood of the moment, this wasn’t the time to divulge her real reason for coming to Eden Pass. That could wait until their mutual hostility eased—if that was possible. It was safer now to address his last statement.
“I’m sure she’ll try.”
“Is this place,” he said, indicating the office with a sweep of his hand, “worth the grief? And believe me, Jody can dish it out.”
“I want to practice medicine, Mr. Tackett. I’m a good doctor. All I ask is to be allowed to run my medical practice without interference.”
“Well, it isn’t going to be easy,” he said slowly. “In fact, I think your life here in Eden Pass will make Hell pale by comparison.”
“Should I take that as a threat?”
“Just stating the facts, Doc. Nobody in Eden Pass will dare offend Jody by becoming your patient. You can count on that. Too many families depend on Tackett Oil for their livelihoods. They’ll drive forty miles for an aspirin before they’ll darken your door.”
He grinned. “It’s going to be amusing to sit back and watch how long it takes you to fold up and go back where you came from. Before it’s all over, there’ll be fireworks. Guess you should be thanked for relieving the boredom around here.” He slipped his crutches under his arms and limped toward the door.
Turning back, he gave her a slow, insulting once-over. “Clark was a damn fool to throw everything away for a woman. All I can figure is that you must be really hot in the sack. But is a roll with you worth losing all he lost? I seriously doubt it.” His eyes moved down her body. “You’re not even that good-looking.”
He left the door open behind him, a clear indication of his contempt. Lara waited until she heard him leave through the front door, then sat down behind her desk. Her knees felt rubbery. Placing her elbows on the top of her desk, she rested her forehead on the heels of her hands. They were cold and clammy, yet her face and chest were emanatin
g fiery heat.
Lowering her hands, she gazed at Ashley’s photograph. Smiling sadly, she reached out to stroke her daughter’s chubby cheek, but touched only cool, unyielding glass. From that drooling smile, those laughing eyes, Lara fed her resolve. Until she had from them what she wanted, she could and would withstand any hardship the Tacketts might impose.
Nancy came rushing in. “Dr. Mallory, are you all right?”
“I don’t recommend a daily dose of him,” Lara replied, forcing a smile. “But, yes, I’m fine.”
The nurse disappeared and returned seconds later with a glass of ice water. “Drink this. Probably ought to be something stronger. Key has a knack for turning people inside out.”
“Thank you.” Lara drank greedily. “Just so you’ll know, Nancy, he was here last night. He had sprained his ankle and came here expecting to find Dr. Patton.” To protect Key’s privacy and her own culpability, she didn’t tell her nurse about the gunshot wound she had declined to report to the authorities.
Without being invited, Nancy plopped down in the chair facing Lara’s desk. “Key Tackett always has been meaner than sin. I remember he once brought a live rattler to school in a tow-sack and terrorized all us girls with it. God knows how he kept from being bit himself. I guess that snake had better sense than to tangle with him.
“He’s drop-dead gorgeous, but I’m sure he knows it. Those blue eyes and lazy smile have admitted him to many a set of parted thighs. I’m sure he’s good at it, too. God knows he’s had plenty of practice. Scores of women would line up to prove me right, but personally I’ve always thought he was a prize asshole.”
Forcing a professional-looking smile to her lips, Lara said, “Give me a few minutes, please. I need to collect my thoughts and freshen up, then I’ll resume seeing the patients.”
“Dr. Mallory,” Nancy said kindly, “one by one your patients suddenly remembered ‘important’ things they had to do.” Dropping the formality, she sympathetically added, “Honey, there’s not a soul waiting out there to see you.”
Chapter Five
Janellen was seated behind her desk in the business office of Tackett Oil and Gas Company. The square brick building had been designed by men, built by men, and furnished for men back in Clark Senior’s heyday. Jody hadn’t given a flip about decor. Most of the men who worked for Tackett Oil had been employees for years and they were accustomed to the office, comfortable with it. So even though Janellen spent more time there than anyone else, it never occurred to her to renovate or otherwise enhance the appearance of the office merely to please herself.
The only personal touch she had added was an ivy plant that she’d potted in a clay container shaped like a bunny. It was crouched on the corner of her desk, partially hidden by correspondence, invoices, and other paperwork.
Managing the office with unstinting efficiency was a matter of pride for Janellen. She opened it every weekday morning at nine sharp, checked the answering machine for messages and the FAX machine for overnight transmissions, then consulted the large calendar on which she jotted down notes to herself ranging from “call church re: altar flowers”—to commemorate her late father’s birthday—to “dentist appointment in Longview.”
This morning, however, she was preoccupied with her mother’s health and the pervasive antagonism between Jody and Key. They hadn’t raised their voices to each other since the morning following Key’s unexpected homecoming, but the atmosphere crackled with hostile static whenever they were in the same room.
Janellen did her best to act as a buffer but was largely unsuccessful. Through Eden Pass’s active grapevine, Jody had heard about Key’s return visit to Dr. Lara Mallory’s office. She accused him of flagrantly disobeying her; he reminded her that he was no longer a kid who needed to be told what to do and what not to do. She said he’d made an ass of himself; he said he’d learned to do that by example.
And so it went.
Mealtimes were torturous. The burden of carrying on a conversation fell to Janellen, and it was an exhausting challenge. Jody never had been an avid conversationalist at the dining table and was even less so now.
To his credit, Key made an effort. He regaled them with anecdotes of his adventures. Jody didn’t think his stories were funny. She shot down all his attempts at humor and consistently turned the topic back to Dr. Mallory, which never failed to inflame Key’s short temper. As soon as he finished eating, he invented an excuse to leave the house. Janellen knew he went out drinking because he rarely returned until the wee hours of the morning, and his tread on the stairs was usually unsteady.
He probably was womanizing, too, but the town grapevine was stumped when it came to who might be receiving his favors.
He’d been home a week, but his return had fallen far short of Janellen’s expectations. Instead of brightening Jody’s outlook, Key’s presence in the house had only made her more short-tempered. Which was puzzling. When he was away, Jody fretted over not hearing from him and worried for his safety. She was never demonstrative, but Janellen had seen the relief that registered in her face whenever they received a card from him letting them know that he was all right.
Now that he was home, nothing he did pleased her. If he was taciturn, she rebuked him. If he attempted conciliation, she rebuffed him. She took issue with the slightest provocation, and, Janellen conceded, her brother could be provoking. Like oil and water, his moods never seemed to mix with Jody’s.
Things had really turned nasty the evening he’d confronted her about the codicil to Clark’s will. “Why wasn’t I informed that he’d bought and deeded that property to Lara Mallory?”
“Because it was none of your business,” Jody retorted. What Clark had done was incomprehensible, especially to his mother. Janellen knew she had agonized over it. She wished Key had never learned of it. Barring that, she wished he’d never raised the subject with Jody.
“None of my business?” he repeated incredulously. “Don’t you think such a stupid decision on his part should have been brought to my attention? It affects all of us.”
“I don’t know Clark’s reasons for doing what he did,” Jody shouted. “But I won’t have you, of all people, calling your brother stupid.”
“I didn’t. I said his decision was stupid.”
“Same difference.”
Their heated argument had lasted for half an hour and only left Key furious and Jody’s blood pressure skyrocketing. No one would ever know what had prompted Clark to do what he’d done. Janellen thought it futile to surmise his motivations. What she knew for certain was that her older brother would have been greatly distressed by the friction he’d unwittingly caused. Their home was a gloomy, antagonistic environment that Janellen wished desperately and vainly to change.
“Ma’am?”
Janellen had been so lost in thought that she jumped at the unexpected sound of a man’s voice. He was standing just inside the doorway, backlighted by the sun, his face in shadow.
Embarrassed at being caught daydreaming, she surged to her feet and ran a self-conscious hand down the placket of her blouse. “I’m sorry. Can I help you?”
“Maybe. I hope.”
He removed a straw cowboy hat and ambled closer to her desk. His legs were slightly bowed. He was much shorter than Key, not even six feet would be her guess. He wasn’t muscle-bound but seemed tough, strong, and wiry. His clothes were clean and appeared new.
“I’m looking for work, ma’am. Wondered if y’all had any openings.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t at present, Mr…?”
“Cato, ma’am. Bowie Cato.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cato. I’m Janellen Tackett. What kind of job are you looking for? If you’re new to Eden Pass, I might be able to refer you to another oil company.”
“Thank you kindly for offering, but it wouldn’t do any good. I’ve already asked around. Saved the best till last, you might say,” he added with a fleeting grin. “Seems nobody’s hiring.”
She smiled sympa
thetically. “I’m afraid that’s all too true, Mr. Cato. The economy in East Texas is tight, especially in the oil industry. Practically nobody’s drilling. Of course, a lot of existing wells are still producing.”
His woebegone brown eyes lit up. “Yes, ma’am, well that’s mostly what I did before—that is, I was a pumper. Maintained several wells for another outfit.”
“So you have experience? You know the business?”
“Oh yes, ma’am. Out in West Texas. Grew up in a pissant, uh, I mean a small town close to Odessa. Worked in the Permian Basin fields since I was twelve.” He paused, as though giving her an opportunity to change her mind after hearing his qualifications. When she said nothing, he bobbed his head in conclusion. “Well, much obliged to you anyway, ma’am.”
“Wait!” As soon as Janellen realized that she had reflexively extended a hand to him, she snatched it back and, flustered, clasped it with her other and held them against her waist.
He regarded her curiously. “Yes, ma’am?”
“As long as you’re here, you could fill out an application. If we have an opening anytime soon… I’m not expecting one, you understand, but it wouldn’t hurt to leave an application in our files.”
He thought it over for a moment. “No, I reckon it wouldn’t hurt.”
Janellen sat down behind her desk and motioned him into the chair facing it. In her bottom drawer, along with other business forms, she kept a few standard employment applications. She passed one to him. “Do you need a pen?”
“Please.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
Picking up the pen she had given him, he lowered his head and proceeded to print his name on the top line of the application.
Janellen judged him to be about Key’s age, although his face was marked with more character lines, and there was a sprinkling of gray in his sideburns. His hair was brown. It bore the imprint of his hatband in a ring around his head.
Suddenly he looked up and caught her staring at him. Before thinking, she blurted, “W-would you care for a cup of coffee?” Then she remembered that she’d offered him one less than thirty seconds ago. “I’m sorry. I already asked you, didn’t I?”