By Hook or By Crook

by Linda Morris

  The flight would be turbulent in more ways than one. Not even Ivy’s money and connections could make high winds and driving rain disappear. Ivy had called ahead to tell the pilot to prep the private jet for takeoff, but bad weather had moved in again as they arrived—thunderstorms and warm temperatures this time instead of snow. This would probably blow over in a couple of hours, but it couldn’t come fast enough for Joe. Ivy sat nearby, slender legs tucked neatly beneath her as she read a magazine in a seat opposite the bar.

  If she gave a damn about the fact that she’d likely never see him again after tonight, she did a great job of hiding it. Well, hell, why should she care? Outside of one very memorable sexual encounter, he’d given her little reason to care about him. He cared about her, though.

  Damn. The truth sucked, but there it was.

  He cast a sideways glance at Pock and Daisy in a booth, sitting on the same side, thigh to thigh, sharing nachos and beer. They were all over each other, as usual. Check that—they were even more nauseating than usual, in the first blush of newlywed bliss. It wasn’t the honeymoon he’d want—flying back to Chicago to face an irate father—but he’d never have a honeymoon anyway, so it didn’t matter.

  He took another long pull on his bottle, and then glared at it when he realized it was empty. He set it on the bar with a clink next to the other empties. He motioned to the bartender for another as his cell phone rang.

  Great. Probably Richard Smithson, ready to chew his ass when he found out he’d failed to prevent this marriage. Well, he’d never promised to prevent any marriage. He’d promised to find Daisy and Pock and to keep Ivy safe, and he’d done both of those things.

  Daisy had a mind of her own, and both her father and her sister had underestimated that. Which wasn’t his fault, but he’d catch hell for it anyway. Yet again, he repressed a surge of anger at the bastards who’d drummed him out of the CPD. If it weren’t for them, he’d be on SWAT by now, not bracing for an ass-chewing from a pompous rich guy.

  He frowned at the number displayed when he realized it wasn’t Smithson’s. Not even a Chicago area code. Fogged by the beers he’d consumed, it took him a minute to process it. His sister in California.

  Great. Just what he needed. More family to deal with. After he wrapped up this case, he would move to a desert island, maybe with a cool blonde, and never talk to anybody’s family, least of all his own or the Smithsons, again.

  “Joe here.”

  “Hey, Joe-bro. What’s up?”

  Despite his misery and drunkenness, hearing his sister use her old nickname for him made him smile. “Not a whole hell of a lot. What’s with you, Erin-go-braugh?” His sister’s growl brought an even bigger grin to his face.

  “I hate that nickname.”

  “I know. It’s part of the big brother prerogative to keep using it.”

  “Very funny.”

  They fell into banter as effortlessly as if they’d spoken yesterday instead of months ago, but this time, a note in Erin’s voice caught his attention.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sort of.” She didn’t elaborate. When his bubbly sister clammed up, he knew something was wrong.

  “How’s the baby?” he forced himself to ask. Not that he had anything against babies, but hell, he didn’t really want to get dragged into all this family stuff. Besides, she didn’t need him for anything.

  “Oh, not that great, actually.”

  He sobered instantly. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going into early labor.”

  He took a moment to think that over. “Early? Like how early?”

  “I’m only thirty-three weeks along. My doctor says it’s too early for me to deliver.”

  She spoke the words calmly, but the rawness of her tone told him everything he needed to know. His little sister was taking this very hard.

  “Shit. Is there anything they can do?”

  “They’re putting me on complete bed rest.”

  “Bed rest? You? You can’t sit still for a half an hour. What are you going to do in bed for six weeks?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice quavered. His sister’s despair ate at him.

  A tap on his shoulder distracted him. Ivy, her lips thin with disapproval as she almost but not quite met his eyes. She fiddled with the shoulder strap of her purse, even though it wasn’t sliding off.

  “The pilot is ready. He wants us on the aircraft.”

  He waved her aside, not caring about the damn plane. Both Erin and her husband worked hard as hell to keep the ranch going. How would her husband handle the ranch by himself if she couldn’t even get out of bed for weeks?

  “What’s Anthony going to do?”

  “What can he do? He’ll work the ranch during the day by himself. He’s going to try to hire a part-time nurse to come in and take care of me.”

  “A nurse?”

  “I can’t get out of bed except to use the bathroom,” she reminded him. “I’ll need someone to bring me meals, bathe me, and all that stuff. It’s like I’m a freaking invalid,” she said with disgust.

  He sympathized. He and his sister shared one thing in common—a stubborn independent streak. Being helpless would drive his sister crazy.

  “If you weren’t so far away, I’d ask you to come out for a visit,” she said, her voice wistful. “I know it’s a pain to fly so far, but I could really use a friend right now. I haven’t seen you in a couple of years.”

  He said nothing, letting the silence hang. He should take the opportunity to let her know that he wasn’t far away—a hop, skip, and a jump over the mountains, as a matter of fact. Other than the Smithsons’ little domestic drama, his caseload was light right now: Sheila could handle his other responsibilities for a little while. Hell, this would give her the chance to prove herself that she’d been hounding him for. And it would make his sister happy.

  Still, he hedged. Dammit, this kind of stuff explained why he lived on the other side of the country. He hated family entanglements, hated reminders of the way he’d grown up. Erin always wanted to trade war stories about the bad old days, to examine their feelings and share theories about Dad and what the hell his problem was.

  No. Sitting around rubbing each other raw was his idea of hell. He wanted no part of it.

  Then his sister sighed. “I miss you, Joe-bro,” she said softly.

  He could hear the sadness she tried to hide. Just like that, he was a big brother again, looking out for his wide-eyed younger sister, trying to cheer her up when their dad had been a drunken jerk.

  Ivy tapped his arm again. “The pilot wants us on the aircraft now.”

  “I’m not going,” he heard himself say.

  “What?” Ivy and Erin said, both at once. Ivy frowned in confusion.

  “Hang on,” he told Erin. He lowered the phone. “I’m not going. My sister needs me.”

  Ivy looked at him like he was nuts. Maybe he was.

  “Your sister? The one in California? What’s wrong?”

  He quickly described the situation. “I’m going out to help.”

  “Do you know anything about ranching?”

  Joe shot her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “No, but how hard can it be?”

  “Do you know anything about taking care of a pregnant woman?”

  “Let’s put it this way. I’m an expert on ranching compared to what I know about pregnant women.”

  Ivy tilted her head to one side. “Do you need some help?”

  The question hung in the air. It wasn’t quite an offer, but he might be able to nudge it into one. He’d better proceed cautiously.

  “Hell, yeah. Know where I might get any?” Hell. Caution wasn’t his strong suit anyway.

  A tiny smile formed on her lips. “I ought to get on the plane and never look back, you know.”

  “But you won’t?” he guessed.

  “But I won’t.” She glanced over to where Daisy and Pock had yet to untangle themselves. “I had better go tell them they’ll
be facing Dad’s wrath alone.” She bit her lip uncertainly. “I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe that’s not a good idea,” she fretted. “Maybe I should go with them and help them break the bad news, deal with the fallout.”

  “Let them do it. It will do your sister good to take her own lumps for once. Let her face your father by herself—you’ve done enough for her.”

  Ivy drew back. “I didn’t expect sympathy from you.”

  “I can surprise you sometimes, can’t I?”

  “Often,” Ivy admitted.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” His sister, impatient with being ignored, practically yelled the question.

  “How would you like a visitor until you have the baby?”

  “Are you serious? You’d come all the way out here for me?”

  “Ah, I’m actually in Vegas,” he admitted. “Long story. It’s for work. And I won’t be alone.”

  “Who is she? Another one of your bimbos?”

  He winced, sincerely hoping Ivy hadn’t heard that, but from her elevated brows, he knew she had. “No. And can you keep it down?”

  “Sorry!” Erin said, sounding unrepentant.

  “How are we going to get there? I don’t want to drive through those mountains again,” Ivy said with a shiver.

  “We’ll fly commercial.”

  Her face cleared in an instant. “Oh, I never thought of that.” The innocent remark reminded him that she and he had come from very different places. After a moment, her frown returned. “Dad won’t like it.”

  “Yeah, well, add it to the list of things he won’t like,” Joe pointed out. “Between Daisy’s wedding, Pock’s fight-fixing buddies, and your coming with me to California, our choice of travel arrangements will be a low priority.”

  Her lips quirked in a rueful smile. “Good point. I’ll go tell Daisy.”

  She disappeared with a noticeable lightness to her step. Apparently he wasn’t the only one feeling illogically happy about the prospect of delaying their inevitable parting. It shouldn’t make him happy, but it did. He couldn’t seem to cut the cord where Ivy Smithson was concerned. Maybe she had the same problem. He suddenly felt brighter than he had in days.

  “What are you up to, Joe Dunham?” His sister’s voice sounded suspicious.

  “I’m up to helping you out and being a good brother,” he said, sober all of a sudden, and happier than he’d felt in days. “Is that wrong?”

  “Tell me this—is she pretty?”

  “Beautiful,” he said fervently. He meant it. How had he once thought her too skinny and boring for his taste?

  “Bitchy, like your usual girls?”

  “Not at all.”

  He spoke out of a reflexive need to defend his woman, but after a second, he realized it was true. A week ago, he had written her off as a princess. Now, the very question offended him. He’d never been with a woman like Ivy Smithson. He’d never even known a woman like her.

  And he didn’t even come close to deserving her, but he couldn’t stop wanting her anyway.

  ****

  “What?” Daisy practically crowed. “You are freaking kidding me! You’re going away with him?” The glee on her face rapidly dissipated as a thought struck. “Oh, no. This means I have to face Dad by myself. Ivy! How can you leave me alone?”

  Ivy gaped at her sister. “Daisy, you’re not serious, right?”

  “Of course, I’m serious!” Daisy wailed. “He’s gonna kill me. I need you with me when I tell him. He’ll listen to you.”

  Ivy shook her head. “You’ve been ignoring my advice every chance you got since you were a kid. You’ve spent the last several days berating me for failing to respect your wishes, all because I sided with Dad. Now you think you need me to protect you from him?” Where did her sister get off?

  “Come on, Ivy. I know you don’t agree with my decision—”

  “That is an understatement,” Ivy interrupted.

  “But you know how Dad can be. Surely you’re not going to abandon me to him. Being torn apart by rabid wolves would be more fun.”

  Ivy sighed. “I don’t know what you expect from me. Dad’s going to be mad, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. He won’t just be mad at you. He’ll be mad at me, too, because I didn’t stop your wedding. What do you think my presence will accomplish?”

  “You can at least testify for the prosecution at his trial if he murders me,” Daisy said.

  Ivy laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, and I can’t protect you from his wrath anyway. Besides,” she said, remembering Joe’s words, “it will be good for you to stand up to Dad by yourself. I’ve always smoothed the way for you, like when he was furious because you moved to Wicker Park.”

  Daisy shuddered at the memory of that particular brawl. “I’m not asking you to protect me from him. I mean, it’s not like he’s going to kill us or anything, although by the time he’s through giving one of his cold lectures, I might wish he had. I just—” Here she broke off, a sob catching in her throat. “I need your moral support, Ivy. I’m not sure I can face him without you.”

  Sympathy warred with irritation in Ivy’s heart, but sympathy won out. She reached out to give her sister a warm hug.

  “I’m sorry, but Joe needs me, too. His sister is bedridden for the rest of her pregnancy, and they have a ranch to run. He can’t help out around the ranch and see to his sister, too.”

  “Wait, a minute, I’ve got it!” Daisy’s face lit with excitement. “Pock and I can come to the ranch too, if it’s okay with Joe’s sister. We can help out. If they’re that strapped, they could use another pair of hands, right?”

  “Um, I’m not sure about that—I’d have to ask Joe,” Ivy backpedaled. Great. Now her sister was inviting herself along.

  “Ask me what?” Joe appeared by her side, one hand possessively on the small of her back. The simple gesture made her glow.

  “Do you think your sister would object to a couple more pairs of hands to help out?”

  He shrugged. “Erin won’t care. She’s easy.”

  “Pock, we’re going to become ranchers!” Daisy enthused. She leapt into Pock’s arms. He caught her reflexively. “Isn’t that great?”

  Pock shrugged. “Fine with me.”

  Ivy sighed. She’d say one thing about Pock—he went with the flow. Like a twig in a stream, letting the current take him where it would, he did whatever Daisy wanted.

  Despite her misgivings about her sister’s marriage, she couldn’t deny a pang of envy as she watched them together. Pock tickled Daisy, and she squealed with laughter. Blissful togetherness came so easily to them. Could she and Joe ever be like that? From the corner of her eye, she saw Joe watching them, too. What was he thinking?

  In all the long hours she’d spent thinking about Joe, she had never once come up with a scenario that led to happily ever after for the two of them. But she hadn’t been able to reason her way out of caring about him, either.

  It was time to blow on the dice for luck and let them tumble, she decided. This was Vegas, after all, and this time she intended to do a little gambling of her own.

  Chapter 15

  Hours later, the four of them stood outside the tiny Redding, California, airport, scanning the vehicles in the drop-off area.

  “Do you see your brother-in-law?” Ivy asked.

  “Nope,” Joe said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it. “If he’s not here in ten minutes, I’ll give him a call.”

  “Why not call him now?”

  Joe didn’t answer. He put his phone back in his pocket, and then shifted his suitcase from one hand to another.

  If she didn’t know him better, she might think he was nervous. Surely not. He had faced gun-toting thugs, a Sierra Nevada blizzard, and, worst of all, her father without batting an eye. But a reunion with his little sister threw him totally off his stride.

  He twitched as his phone vibrated, and then grimaced as he checked the mes
sage. “He’s on his way, running a little late. He’ll be here in five, he says.”

  She looked over at Daisy and Pock, standing a little distance apart and totally into each other, as usual. She would never understand their enthusiasm for PDAs.

  “Are you okay with this?” she asked Joe. “Seeing your sister again, I mean?”

  Without thinking, she reached out and touched his arm, her hand meeting the bare skin of his forearms. The touch sizzled. His eyes, leaf-green in the winter sunlight, met hers.

  He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips for a kiss that started out sweet but turned hot when his tongue traced the sensitive web of skin at the base of her thumb.

  Heat streaked through her from the simple touch. She tugged at her hand, embarrassed by the intensity of her public reaction. How could she live the rest of her life without this chemistry, this alchemy that turned the lead of everyday moments into gold? He kept her hand firmly in his, kissing and nibbling his way to the tender skin on the inside of her wrist.

  “Joe!”

  She meant to protest, but her voice sounded strange, ridiculously breathy and excited. Joe simply grinned and captured her other hand to give it the same treatment.

  “I think you’re dodging the question,” she said.

  “What question?”

  “I forget,” she admitted after a moment. “Something to do with your sister.” His low chuckle sent a shiver deep through her chest. Snatching her hands free, she turned to see a dust-covered pickup at the curb. A twenty-something man with hooded eyes and shaggy dark hair poking out from under his cowboy hat came around the front, hand extended.

  Joe introduced them as they all shook hands. “Anthony Evans, my brother-in-law. This is Ivy Smithson, her sister Daisy, and Pock.”

  As always when she met someone new, Ivy watched for a reaction—a sign of recognition to indicate that the stranger knew her father. New people always sized her up for her wealth and family connections, but Anthony’s face revealed nothing except a polite greeting and a certain wariness, mostly directed toward Joe, she guessed.

  On the ride to the ranch, Anthony kept up a steady stream of information about Erin’s condition, their plans for the baby, and the workload at the ranch, prompted by occasional questions from Joe.