THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

by Ginna Gray

  "She was so overjoyed, I didn't have the heart to mention it myself. I was afraid of what it would do to her."

  "But you wondered, didn't you, Jacob?"

  "I tried not to. Lily was happy. And there was a possibility the child was mine. We'd been trying for several months to have a baby. I told myself that the odds were in my favor."

  Jacob sighed. "Then she was born, and I was almost certain that she wasn't a Malone."

  "What made you think that?"

  "For heaven's sake, Nan, all you have to do is look at her. She's six feet tall, and Lily and her sisters are petite. She doesn't resemble Lily or me in the least, or anyone else in our family, for that matter. And there's that red hair and green eyes. No one in our family has coloring like that."

  "So? That doesn't mean anything. You're six one. Maggie could have gotten her height from you and her looks and coloring from someone far back in our gene pool. Maybe those genes skipped a few generations."

  "Maybe," he conceded grudgingly. "But it doesn't seem likely."

  "I take it you didn't get the doctor to test for paternity? I know that a blood test wouldn't necessarily have identified you as the father, but it might have told you if you weren't."

  "I couldn't do that. Lily didn't want anyone to know, not even the doctor. And she became hysterical if I so much as alluded to the attack. I couldn't upset her with my doubts and risk her slipping back into depression."

  "Jacob, she should've had counseling," Nan said gently. "She needed to work through it and put it behind her, not block it out."

  "I know, I know, but she resisted the idea so vehemently, and I was afraid to force the issue."

  Nan sighed. "That's why she's so fragile, isn't it? Why she avoids conflict and strife at all cost? And why you've always babied and protected her?"

  Jacob's shoulders slumped. "Yes." Tears filled his eyes as he met his sister's gaze, but he didn't care. "If you could have seen what that animal did to her, how devastated she was afterward, you would understand."

  "Oh, Jacob, I'm not blaming you—at least, not for that. I'm not sure that wrapping Lily in cotton wool all these years was the best thing for her, but I understand why you did it. What I have a problem with is that for twenty-seven years you've allowed this thing to fester inside you. And Maggie has borne the brunt of it."

  The accusation pricked his conscience and his anger flared. "Dammit, do you have any idea what it's like to live every day tormented by the possibility that the child who bears your name might have been fathered by the beast who attacked your wife? Well, I'll tell you," he ground out. "It's hell. Pure, unmitigated, living hell. I tried to love her. I swear to God I did. But every time I looked at her, I thought of him."

  "All the more reason to find out for certain. These days DNA testing can provide conclusive proof whether or not Maggie is your child."

  "I told you, I can't do that to Lily."

  "She doesn't have to know. Neither does Maggie. Although, personally, I think the whole thing should be brought out into the open."

  "Absolutely not."

  "Fine, then. I can take a few strands of hair from Maggie's hairbrush and a saliva sample from you and send them to my physician in New York and ask him to have it tested."

  Jacob looked out at the orchard, his chest suddenly tight.

  "Time is running out, Jacob. You owe Maggie this much," she urged quietly. "And you owe it to yourself."

  He shook his head. "No. I won't do it. And I want your promise that you won't order the test on your own."

  "Jacob—"

  "Your promise, Nan. I know you. You always want to step in and put things right, but this isn't your decision to make. So I'll have your promise."

  Nan glared at him, fuming. Finally she gave a huff and snapped, "Oh, all right. I promise. But you're a fool, Jacob Malone."

  He watched her storm away into the house and winced when she slammed the door behind her. Then he turned his head and stared out at nothing in particular. Ethically, morally, even intellectually, he knew that Nan was right. But emotionally—that was another matter.

  The only thing that had allowed him to accept Katherine's presence in his family all these years was the possibility, no matter how slight, that she might be his. How would he bear it if after all this time he discovered, beyond all doubt, that she wasn't?

  Or worse … that she was?

  * * *

  Nine

  « ^ »

  Maggie's head snapped up. What was that?

  She looked around her father's office, her heart pounding. Only the green-shaded desk lamp and indirect lighting along three sides of the ceiling lit the room, but it was enough to see that no one was there.

  She swiveled her father's big leather chair around and peered through the glass wall at the cannery floor. As always on Sundays, the place was deserted and quiet.

  Unlike some canneries that operated around the clock, Maggie's great-grandmother had made the decision years ago that Malone's would work a six-day week. Those employed in the orchards and the office worked the usual forty hours, but cannery workers put in three twelve-hour days per week, allowing them to earn a decent wage and still have plenty of spare time.

  "We could make more money operating all the hours that God sends, but the workers pay too high a price for the additional profit. It's just plain unnatural for people to work at night," she had contended. "Besides, folks need time with their families."

  Maggie agreed with her great-grandmother's philosophy and was amused that these days many other businesses were adopting the schedule. At that moment, however, the unnatural quiet and emptiness gave her the willies.

  Security lights spilled dim pools of illumination throughout the cavernous space, turning the machinery into hulking shapes in the shadows.

  Maggie scanned the floor as far as she could see, but nothing moved.

  With a self-deprecating chuckle, she turned the chair back around. "You're letting the emptiness spook you, Mag. Remember, this is Ruby Falls, not New York." Scooting the chair closer to the desk, she turned her attention back to the ledgers spread out on the top.

  Within seconds she was totally absorbed in scanning the columns of figures. Every now and then she stopped with her index finger on a number while she reached across the desk to flip through another ledger and check the amount against another one.

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Maggie let out a strangled cry and nearly jumped right out of her skin. Her pencil went flying, and in full flight mode, she'd cleared the seat of the leather chair by eight inches before the voice and the face of the man standing in the doorway registered fully.

  Pressing her hand against her heart, she collapsed back into the chair and closed her eyes. "Jeezlouise, handsome, you scared the living daylights out of me. Don't sneak up on me like that. You'll give me a heart attack."

  "I was driving home and I saw a light up here. Since Jacob is too sick to work and Martin doesn't put in long hours, I thought I'd better check it out. And you haven't answered my question. What are you doing here at this time of night?"

  Just coming home, was he? Maggie cast a surreptitious glance at the clock on the corner of the desk. Almost midnight. Had he been on a date?

  She was surprised at how much the idea bothered her. For heaven's sake, you only met the man three days ago.

  What did you expect, anyway? He's a healthy, red-blooded male in his prime, and good-looking and single to boot. Of course he has girlfriends. For all you know, he could be hot and heavy into a serious relationship. Maybe even engaged.

  He might feel the same tug of attraction that you do, but he doesn't like it one bit. He doesn't like you. So, get a grip, Mag.

  Lying didn't come easy to Maggie. In any case, the ledgers spread out over the desk left little doubt as to what she'd been doing. Stalling for time, hoping to sidetrack him, she leaned back in the chair and gave him a sultry smile.

  "Is there a problem? I'm a member of t
he Malone family. Why does everyone act like I have no right to be here?"

  He didn't answer right away, merely stood there with his big workingman's hands splayed on his lean hips, those silvery eyes studying her from beneath half-closed eyelids.

  "Does Jacob know you're up here snooping around?"

  "No. But Momma does. Actually, I'm here at her request."

  "Oh? That's funny. I've never known Lily to get involved in the business."

  "True. But with Daddy so sick, somebody in the family has to. Since Momma has no experience or training, she asked me to take a look at things."

  Tilting her head to one side, Maggie studied him and debated just how much she should reveal. In the end, she went with her instincts. "I don't know if you are aware of it, but our profits have been steadily dropping for months."

  Dan leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, crossed one booted foot over the other and folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I know. Jacob told me."

  "Did he also tell you that if we don't turn things around soon we're going under?"

  "Yeah. Either that or sell out to Bountiful Foods, like Martin wants him to do."

  "Not if I can help it."

  Cynical amusement flickered in his eyes and twitched his mouth. "So, you're just going to prance in and pull all of Jacob's chestnuts out of the fire, is that it?"

  "I don't know about the prancing part. I usually save that for the runway. But I am going to do my best to find the hole in the dike and plug it." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

  Dan's gaze shifted toward the pile of ledgers. "Do you know what you're doing?"

  "Well … it's not my specialty, but I did take a few accounting courses when I was working toward my master's in business. I think I can muddle through."

  He appeared not in the least discomfited by the revelation. On the contrary, he didn't turn a hair but continued to study her in that inscrutable way. Maggie couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw a glint of admiration in those cool eyes.

  Of course, with the lighting so low, she could have imagined it.

  "Why are you working now? Why not during normal office hours?"

  "I thought it best not to upset the normal routine around here. I don't want to panic the employees. And to be honest, Miss Udall seems—how shall I put this? An extremely territorial type? I'd rather not pull rank." Maggie shot him a grimacing smile. "Any more than I already have, that is."

  Nor did she want to alert Martin to what she was doing and have him go running to her father. Of course, now that Dan knew, that point might be moot.

  This time, though it was no more than a lopsided twitch of his mouth, there was no doubt about Dan's smile. "Locked horns with her already, have you? Careful, Red. The woman's hell on wheels."

  "Maybe so. But I think I can take her in a fair fight."

  The saucy comment produced another twitching smile. "You're probably right."

  Dan straightened away from the doorjamb. "I guess there's no harm in you taking a look at the situation. Things can't get much worse than they are now."

  "Yes, well, I've done about all I can for one evening. I've looked at so many figures my eyes are beginning to cross. Time to call it a night."

  "I didn't see your car downstairs," Dan said as she rose and came around the desk.

  "No, I walked."

  "It's late. C'mon, I'll give you a lift back to the house."

  Maggie's heart gave a little bump. She was tempted, but common sense told her it would be a foolish move. "That's okay. I don't mind walking back through the orchard in the dark. Really."

  Maggie fished a small metal cylinder out of the pocket of her skirt and held it up for him to see. "See, I've got a flashlight."

  "That thing won't light up the ground more than a few feet ahead of you. It won't take me but a couple of minutes to drive you home. C'mon," he ordered, taking her elbow and steering her out the door.

  Normally, Maggie would have balked at such high-handedness, but the touch of his callused fingers against her skin seemed to have short-circuited her brain.

  She was acutely aware of that broad palm and each individual finger, wrapped around her arm just above her elbow. From the point of contact, an electrical current zinged up her arm and spread tingling heat over her neck, back and chest and set her heart to beating absurdly fast.

  This close, she could smell his scent, feel the heat from that deliciously fit body, see each individual lash surrounding his silvery eyes and the shadow of beard stubble just beneath the skin along his jaw. Despite the mildness of the night, a shiver rippled through Maggie. Sweet heaven, Dan Garrett was one potent hunk of man.

  "This won't be anywhere near as fancy as that sexy little number you drive, but it'll get you home," he said when they stepped outside and he steered her to the only vehicle in the row of parking spaces in front of the building.

  "I'm from here, remember? You can't grow up in Ruby Falls without riding in a pickup," she reminded him as she climbed up into the cab of the battered work truck.

  "But lately your mode of transportation has been Jaguars and limos. And Vipers."

  She could hardly deny that. Before she could come up with a snappy response, he slammed the door, circled around to the driver's side and climbed behind the wheel.

  In one easy motion that spoke of long experience, he cranked the engine, slung his right arm onto the back of the bench seat and looked over his shoulder out the back window while he reversed out of the slot. Within seconds they were out of the parking lot and speeding down the gravel road that encircled the Malone orchard, cannery and homesite, heading for the opposite side of the property.

  Dan didn't seem inclined to talk, and for one of the few times in her adult life, Maggie couldn't think of a thing to say. She was too acutely aware of that muscled arm stretched out along the back of the seat. Her hair brushed his fingers every time she moved the slightest bit, and she could feel the heat from them on the back of her neck.

  The only sounds were the rumble of the engine, the crunch and pop of the gravel beneath the tires and a symphony of rattles the truck made.

  He drove the same way he walked and moved, with an effortless, loose-limbed grace. He steered the truck with his left wrist draped over the top of the wheel, his big, lean body slouched against the worn seat.

  The interior of the truck, though clean, was as battered as the outside. A bucket of tools sat on the floorboard—hacksaw, pliers, hand drill and several others Maggie didn't recognize. The vinyl seats were cracked and several of the springs had seen better days. Jagged cracks spiderwebbed out from a deep pock in the windshield on the passenger side.

  Maggie wondered if many of the women he dated objected to being picked up in the beat-up old truck. Then she glanced at the man behind the wheel and almost laughed at the foolish thought. Not likely.

  In the dim light from the dashboard, she studied Dan's strong profile. Her gaze slid down over his rolled-up sleeve to the muscled forearm with its liberal dusting of dark hair and farther still to the broad wrist propped on the top of the steering wheel and to that hand hanging loosely on the other side.

  Calluses ridged the broad palm and the pads of the long, blunt fingers, and the skin across the top bore small nicks and scars, but his fingernails were clean and neatly trimmed. Though utterly masculine, there was something so oddly graceful and appealing about that rough hand that just looking at it made Maggie's mouth go dry.

  She tore her gaze away when he gave the wheel a counterclockwise twirl and turned into the driveway of her parents' home.

  He pulled to a stop in the circular portion of the drive next to the front walk but left the engine running. Turning his head, he gazed at her through the dimness and waited, not saying a word.

  Maggie felt that look like a physical touch. Without any contact at all, without so much as moving, he affected her as no man ever had. She felt as though she were melting from the inside. The air in the cab seemed to pu
lse with awareness.

  This is insane, Mag, she told herself. Go. Get out of here, before you do something foolish.

  Swallowing hard, she reached for the door handle. "Well, uh, thanks for the ride."

  "No problem." Dan removed his arm from the back of the seat and his fingers brushed against the side of her neck. He jerked his hand away as though it had been scalded.

  Maggie froze with the door half-open. She shot a startled look over her shoulder and knew by his expression that the touch had been an accident. And that he, too, had felt that stunning zap of electricity … and he wasn't pleased.

  She felt as awkward and jittery as a teenager on her first date. And just as tongue-tied. Retreat seemed her only option.

  Muttering a quick good-night, she hopped out of the cab, but when she turned to shut the door, a thought occurred to her, and she paused and mustered a coaxing smile.

  "Uh … sugar, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't mention to Daddy what I'm doing. It would only upset him. I'll tell him myself soon, but I'm hoping I'll find some concrete reasons for the losses and take steps to correct the situation before that becomes necessary."

  He looked at her across the bench seat, his eyes a pale glitter in his shadowed face. Maggie's heart speeded up and her breathing became shallow. He remained quiet for so long she began to think he wasn't going to answer.

  "Tell you what," he said at last. "I won't mention seeing you in the office. But I won't lie to Jacob if he asks. That's the best I can do."

  Considering this man's loyalty to her father, it was more than she'd expected, and the relief she felt helped to calm her skittering nerves. "Fair enough," she said with a wink. "Thanks, sugar."

  The pickup engine continued to idle after she closed the door and headed up the walkway. Maggie could feel him watching her. Smiling, she put a little extra sway in her saunter.