THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

by Ginna Gray

  "What does that mean?" she demanded, eyeing him warily.

  "What it means, Red, is I care for you. And I'm not going anywhere."

  She stared at him, speechless, her heart pounding.

  Dan's mouth curved into that rare hard smile of his that did devastating things to her insides. His gaze drifted down her face and settled on her mouth. Beneath heavy lids, his silvery eyes smoldered. Slipping his free hand beneath her heavy mane of hair he cupped the back of her neck and tugged her closer.

  Against her lips he whispered, "And neither are you. Not tonight. Not ever, if I have anything to say about it."

  The next morning, Maggie came awake slowly, stretching like a satisfied cat. A feeling of bone-deep pleasure and well-being permeated her body. Smiling, she lifted her heavy eyelids, but blinked as her gaze focused on the unfamiliar room.

  She became aware of a delicious warmth all along her backside from her neck to her heels, and she realized with a jolt that she was lying, spoon-fashion, against a man's naked body.

  Before panic could seize her completely, memories from the previous night came flooding back. With a sigh, she relaxed.

  It had been a magical night. She and Dan had made love twice more before falling asleep in each other's arms. Then sometime before dawn he had kissed her awake. Ignoring her protests that she had to go, with his lips and tongue and tormenting touch, he had seduced her until she was weak and quivering with need. Taking his time, he had made slow, sweet love to her, while the rain kept up a steady patter on the roof.

  Maggie smiled. Dan was a wonderful lover, strong and forceful, yet wonderfully sensitive and giving. No one had ever taken such tender care with her before, or brought her to such heights of pleasure. She could almost believe that he really cared for her, as he'd said. Almost.

  "Mmm, morning, Red," Dan mumbled against her neck an instant before she felt his lips nibbling there.

  Laughing, she hunched her shoulder. "Uh-uh, none of that. This time I really do have to go. The family will be getting up soon. Dan, cut that out!"

  "Oh, all right." He released her and flopped onto his back with his arms spread wide. "Spoilsport."

  Before he could change his mind she scooted off the bed, scooped up her clothes and dashed into the bathroom. Still clutching her clothes to her breasts, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and stopped short.

  She looked wanton and well loved. Her hair was tousled every which way, she hadn't a speck of makeup left, her lips were slightly swollen from Dan's kisses, and that looked like… Frowning, Maggie leaned closer to the mirror and groaned. Dear Lord, it was. She had a hickey on her neck.

  If that wasn't enough, to top it all off, she was positively glowing.

  "If Val could see me now she'd have a photographer in here clicking pictures right and left," she muttered to her disheveled reflection.

  "So much for discretion. You might as well have I Spent the Night Having Great Sex stamped on your forehead."

  And the pitiful part was, if he tried, Dan could have her back in that bed with very little effort, and to hell with her reputation or work or anything else.

  Making a low, desperate sound in her throat, Maggie turned her back to the mirror. Time to get out of here, my girl, while you still have an ounce of self-control left.

  After scrambling into her clothes, she washed her face, squeezed some toothpaste on her forefinger and rubbed it over her teeth, then located Dan's hairbrush and attacked her tangled mane. When done she studied her reflection and sighed. She looked only fractionally less debauched, but it was the best she could do.

  Dan was dressed and waiting when she emerged from the bathroom. His hair was damp and he smelled of shaving cream and toothpaste, and she realized that he'd made use of the guest bathroom while she had been fretting over her appearance.

  On the short drive neither spoke until the pickup came to a stop in the driveway beside the terrace and Dan announced, "I'll come in with you."

  Maggie paused with her hand on the door handle. "You don't have to do that."

  "I know that, but I want to."

  "Really, Dan, it isn't neces—"

  "What's the matter, Maggie? Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you don't want your family to know you were with me last night?"

  "No! It's not that at all!" It had not occurred to her that he would think such a thing. "Just the opposite, actually."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning I don't want to ruin your relationship with Daddy. He isn't going to be happy about this, you know. I was just trying to prevent him from finding out."

  Dan's eyes narrowed. He gazed at her for a long time in that disconcerting direct way he had. Finally he nodded. "Let me worry about Jacob. If he has a problem with me seeing his daughter, he can take it up with me."

  Maggie snorted and shot him a wry look as she opened the passenger door. "I was thinking more along the lines of him having a problem with me seeing his right-hand man."

  She bailed out of the truck without giving him a chance to comment, and Dan followed. They dashed up the short path and across the terrace through the sprinkling rain and rushed inside through the first set of French doors, which led directly into the den. Laughing and shaking off raindrops, they slammed the door quickly, but their laughter died when they turned and saw Jacob, scowling at them from his recliner.

  "So. That's where you've been all night."

  "Daddy. What're you doing up so early?"

  "Your father had a bad night. Since he couldn't sleep, he wanted to sit down here and watch the dawn."

  Maggie's gaze swung to the sofa in time to see Charley Minze rise to his feet. Her attention had been so focused on her father, she hadn't noticed him before.

  She took a quick step toward Jacob, concern wiping out every other thought. "Are you all right? Should I call the doctor?"

  "Charley already has. I don't need any help from you."

  Looking uncomfortable, Charley edged toward the door. "I'll, uh … I'll go see if Ida Lou has made coffee yet."

  "Dammit, just look at you, girl. You stay out all night and come dragging in at dawn still wearing the clothes you had on yesterday and looking like a shameless hussy. I suppose I should have expected as much from you. Disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful."

  Well, what did you expect, Mag? Understanding? Parental tolerance? Approval? Yeah, right. In your dreams.

  Reining in her concern, Maggie ruthlessly squelched her hurt and flashed an irreverent grin.

  "I wouldn't want to disappoint you. But let me remind you that I'm a big girl now, Daddy. My private life is nobody's business but mine.

  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to shower before I go to the office." She glanced at Dan and winked. "Thanks for the ride home, sugar. And for everything else," she added in a sexy purr, and sauntered out of the room.

  Dan watched her until she was out of sight, then turned to find that he had become the focus of Jacob's glower. "Was that necessary?"

  "Was it necessary for you to seduce my daughter?" the old man shot back. "When I asked you to get close to Katherine, that wasn't what I had in mind."

  Guilt and fury tangled in Dan's gut. Along with the feelings came a fierce need to protect Maggie. He glowered back at the older man, and when he spoke his voice was low and intense. "Let's get this straight right now, Jacob. What happened between Maggie and me has nothing to do with you or Malone Enterprises. Nothing at all. I care for your daughter, and I'm going to keep right on seeing her, and if that doesn't set well with you, too bad. I guess you'll just have to fire me."

  No sooner had Maggie parted from Dan than she began to have doubts. He couldn't possibly be serious about her. Oh, sure, the night before he'd claimed to care for her, but what else could he say under those circumstances?

  By the time she had showered and dressed she was convinced that she was right, and as she left her room she resolved to let him off the hook as soon as she saw him again. Halfway down the stairs, however, Maggie's ste
ps faltered and all thoughts of Dan flew right out of her mind when she spotted her sister and Dr. Sanderson in the foyer below.

  The good doctor held Laurel in his arms, tenderly stroking her back and murmuring in her ear while she wept on his shoulder.

  Starting down the stairs again at a slower pace, Maggie cleared her throat and murmured, "Excuse me." The couple sprang apart like two guilty teenagers caught making out.

  "Miss Malone. I, uh, I was just comforting your sister." Neil Sanderson straightened his tie and tried to look professional, but his face turned a painful red.

  "So I see. Is there something I should know about?"

  "I'm afraid I brought her some bad news."

  "Oh, Maggie, Daddy's latest tests aren't good. Dr. Sanderson says he's failing faster than he and Dr. Lockhart expected. He's changed his medication, but if it doesn't slow down the cancer he says we'll be lucky if he lives to see the New Year in."

  The statement hit Maggie like a fist to the heart. She caught her breath and would have staggered back had she not been gripping the newel post. Thanksgiving was only a little over two weeks away.

  "So soon? Are you sure, doctor?"

  "As sure as one can be in a case like this. But on the plus side, your father is a fighter. I was just telling Mrs. Howe not to give up hope. Jacob may surprise us all." He sent Laurel another sympathetic glance and picked up his bag. "I'll be running along now. If you need me, day or night, just call."

  "Oh, wait, Doctor." Laurel sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a man's white handkerchief before handing it back to him. "Thank you for all you've done. And for being so kind."

  Neil gazed at Laurel like a starving man, then looked down at the tear-soaked handkerchief and closed his fingers tightly around it and slipped it into his pocket. Maggie had the feeling the scrap of cloth would never see the inside of a washing machine again. "Think nothing of it. It was my pleasure."

  When he had gone Maggie moved to her sister's side, and through the etched glass panel beside the door they watched the young doctor drive away.

  "He's a good man," Maggie murmured.

  "Yes. Yes, he is."

  "I can't believe it. Oh, Laurel, we're going to lose Daddy." Laurel did not reply, but when Maggie turned her head she saw a tear slip down her sister's cheek.

  "Oh, sis."

  Instinctively, she reached out to offer comfort, but Laurel flinched away and snapped, "Don't. Just don't touch me."

  Hurt shot through Maggie. Tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. "Maggie, I'm sorry—"

  Laurel reached out to her when she turned to flee, and the sleeve of her sweater pulled back an inch or so. Maggie had already taken a step, but she stopped in her tracks when she spotted the dark smudge on her sister's wrist.

  She grabbed Laurel's hand and pushed the sleeve back and stared at the mark, ignoring her sister's attempt to free herself. Her horrified gaze locked on Laurel. "How did this happen? Where did you get this bruise?"

  "It's not a bruise." Laurel tugged at her hand again, but Maggie refused to let go.

  "It most certainly is." Maggie's eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the patch of discolored skin on her sister's cheek that makeup couldn't quite hide. "And so is that." And she was willing to bet that her sister's turtleneck sweater hid more marks that she didn't want anyone to see.

  "Don't worry about it. It's nothing. Really."

  "Nothing? How can you say that? And don't you dare try to tell me this was an accident. Martin hit you, didn't he? Didn't he?"

  "All right, so maybe he did slap me once or twice, but only because I made him angry. It's nothing to make a fuss over."

  "The hell it isn't! It's called domestic violence, Laurel. You can file charges and have him put in jail, for Pete's sake. Which I think we should do right now. C'mon, I'll go with you."

  "No! No, I can't do that!" Laurel pulled free and stepped back, wringing her hands. "You don't understand. It's not like that. Martin isn't a wife beater."

  "The hell he isn't. He hit you, didn't he?"

  "Well … yes. But it was all my fault. Martin can't help it if he has a bad temper. If I didn't do or say things that upset him he wouldn't hit me. Anyway, he's always sorry afterward."

  "Good Lord, Laurel, listen to yourself. You're the victim here. You are in no way to blame. How can you defend that creep?"

  "He's my husband," she said simply. Her chin came up a notch, and she looked at Maggie with a fragile dignity that wrung her heart.

  Frustration and fury trembled inside Maggie. She should have known that Laurel would defend the slimebag. Her sister had always had an idealistic view of love and marriage, and she was loyal to the core. For Laurel, marriage was forever, no matter what she had to endure. Her sweet, biddable nature made her the perfect whipping boy for an abuser like Martin. And how typical of her to think that if things weren't quite as rosy as she'd hoped, then she must be the one doing something wrong.

  "A marriage license doesn't give him the right to hit you."

  "Maggie, just leave it alone. This isn't your concern."

  "You're my sister. I can't just stand by and do nothing. Just wait until I see the bastard. I'll put the fear of God into him. When I'm done, he won't dare lay a hand on you again."

  "No! Maggie, you mustn't!" Laurel's face turned white and her eyes darted around as though she was afraid that Martin had somehow overheard. Maggie had never seen such terror in anyone's eyes before. She gripped Maggie's hands so tightly it felt as though her bones might snap. "Please. You have to promise me you won't say anything to Martin. Or to Momma or Daddy, either."

  "Laurel—"

  "Please, Maggie, I'm begging you. Promise me."

  Maggie gritted her teeth. It went against every instinct, everything she knew was right, but in the end she could not deny the pathetic plea in her sister's eyes.

  "All right, you win. But I don't like it."

  "Promise me. Say it, so I'll know you mean it."

  Maggie almost smiled. It was the same childish demand they had made of each other thousands of times when they were little girls.

  "I promise, I won't say anything to Martin, or to Momma or Daddy."

  * * *

  Sixteen

  « ^ »

  No sooner had Maggie made the promise to Laurel than she regretted doing so. Five days later, sitting in the first-class section on a New York-to-Dallas flight, she was still brooding over the situation.

  As the plane started its decent toward DFW Maggie stared out the window at the winter-brown ranch land around Dallas and Fort Worth, the vehicles darting along highways like busy ants, not really seeing either. All she could think about was her sweet sister, at the mercy of that pig, Martin.

  After leaving Laurel that morning, Maggie had barely arrived at the cannery when Martin had stormed past Anna and into her office with another of his complaints. The mere sight of him had turned her stomach and filled her with rage. It had been all she could do not to leap across her desk and tear into him, claws bared. Instead, because of that stupid promise, she'd had to grind her teeth and listen to him rant.

  "I just got off the telephone with Ken Burrows over at K&W Wholesale Grocers. He said you called him and worked out new shipment quantities. Is that true?"

  "Yes. The problems we've been having have left us short on inventory. I felt it would be better to scale back on all the orders now and catch up later, when we have things under control again. To that end, I'm personally contacting all our accounts to explain our situation and ask for their cooperation. In return, I'm offering a discount off their contracted cost. So far, they've all been agreeable."

  "I don't give a rat's ass if they're shouting for joy. You keep your nose out of my business. I'm the company PR man. I deal with the buyers, not you. I won't stand for you going behind my back and making deals with my accounts."

  "You won't stand for it?" Shooting to her feet, she'd braced all ten fingertips on the desktop and leaned over the shiny surface
toward him. "Why, you insignificant, worthless piece of pig flop. You don't have any say in the matter. I'm running this company, and if I want to talk to a customer, I will. Furthermore, they are not your accounts, they're Malone Cannery accounts. You just work here. And only because of my sister, at that. Now, get your sorry hide out of my office. And the next time you want to talk to me, make an appointment."

  Maggie smiled at the memory. Oh, that had felt good. Really good. Not as good as giving him the horsewhipping he so richly deserved, but good.

  Martin's face had turned an apoplectic purple. He'd looked ready to hit her. Actually, she'd been hoping he would try. She had been in just the mood to practice some of her kick-boxing moves on him. But after a lot of sputtering, fist-clenching and nostril-flaring, he had swallowed his rage and stormed out.

  At first she had felt victorious—until she started worrying that Martin would take his fury out on Laurel.

  That thought had haunted her for the last five days while in New York shooting the Stephano Perfume ad and making an appearance on Oprah. Twice she had telephoned Laurel. Her sister had insisted that she was fine, but Maggie still felt uneasy.

  At one point she had almost called Dan. She had desperately needed to confide her worries to someone.

  Maggie's mouth twitched. C'mon, Mag, be honest. That's not the only reason. You also wanted to hear his voice.

  She had gotten as far as dialing his number, but hung up after only one ring.

  Since that rainy morning five days ago she hadn't talked to Dan. Except for glimpsing him a couple of times through the glass wall of her office later that morning, she hadn't seen him, either.

  She'd left the office earlier than usual because she had to drive to Dallas before dawn the following morning to catch her New York flight. She'd half expected him to call her that evening at home, and like a lovesick teenager, she had jumped every time the telephone had rung. But he hadn't called or dropped by.