by Helen Conrad
She searched his face. “You really love me?” she asked breathlessly. “You’re not just saying that?”
“I don’t just say things like that,” he reminded her, stroking her hair. “I love you, Carly Stevens. And I want to marry you.”
He kissed her softly on the lips.
She laughed low in her throat, raising her arms to envelop him. “And all this time I thought you were just waiting for me to get on out of here,” she teased, her eyes shining with love for him.
“Don’t be crazy,” he said softly, between kisses. “I needed a miracle, and you dropped into my lap. I’d be a fool to let you go.”
“Ah, I see.” She turned her head a little so his kisses could proceed down her neck. Her eyes were half-closed with pleasure. “You realized you were going to have to start giving me a salary if I stayed around any longer. Is that it? And you thought it would be cheaper to get married.”
He drew back and laughed at her. “Believe me, darlin’, it’s never cheaper to get married.” His eyes sobered, darkening. “But it’s going to be better,” he told her softly, taking her face between his hands. “Oh God, Carly, this is going to be so much better.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip, her eyes still swimming with tears. She knew it, too. Nothing could stop them now. But she was just too full of emotion to say so.
EPILOGUE
“Shh.” Beth put her finger to her lips and motioned to her brother. “Quiet. They’ll hear us.”
Jeremy nodded and slunk in behind her as she led the way to the doorway at the end of the hall. Beth reached for the doorknob and slowly opened it. They scampered inside.
The room was dark, the shade drawn, but they could make out a crib on the other side of the room.
“Shh,” Beth said again, unnecessarily. “He’s asleep.”
They tiptoed up to the edge of the baby bed and looked over the side at the infant sleeping on a little blue mattress inside it. His black hair was stiff as straw, his tiny little nose a round button in the middle of his little red face. The legs gave a feeble kick and his arms waved for a moment, but the eyes didn’t open.
“Happy birthday, Stephen Jacob Carrington,” Beth whispered, gazing down at her precious little brother.
“How can it be his birthday, he just got borned,” Jeremy protested sensibly.
“It’s his one-week birthday.”
Jeremy made a face. “That’s dumb.”
“It’s not dumb. I have a one-week birthday present for him.”
“What is it?” Jeremy asked suspiciously.
She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a crushed carnation. “It’s a flower.”
Jeremy made a sound of disgust. “Boys don’t want flowers,” he informed his ignorant sister.
“Stephen Jacob Carrington likes flowers,” Beth corrected him primly. She laid it down on the table beside his little bed.
“Better not put it where he can get it or Carly will get really mad.”
“Carly doesn’t get mad at me,” Beth one-upped him. “She gets mad at you when you do bad things or forget your chores. But I always do the right thing.”
Jeremy didn’t bother to contradict that. “Carly will get mad if you touch her baby.”
Beth turned her nose in the air and reached down to put a finger on the tiny hand. “This is our baby,” she told him. “I can touch him if I want.”
Jeremy frowned, looking down at the monkeylike figure. “Carly is his mom, right?”
“Right,” Beth agreed.
His brow furrowed even further. “Then, is he going to call her Carly, like we do?”
“Of course not, silly. He’s going to call her Mom.”
“Oh.” This was a concept that he was having trouble with.
“That doesn’t mean she’ll love him any better than she loves us,” Beth informed him.
He gave her a glance of pure disgust. “I know that.”
“She loves us just as much. But we already have a mom, even though she’s far away and doesn’t want us.”
“I don’t care about that mom,’’ Jeremy said.
A tremendous crash from the yard sent them flying to the window. Pushing aside the shade, they looked down.
“Look,” Beth said, excitement lighting her eyes. “They’re starting.”
The yard had been converted into a wonderland of flowers and lanterns and ribbons everywhere. Baskets of pansies lined the fence. Sprays of lemon branches filled the air with sweet scent. White lace covered small tables and a huge wedding cake sat in the center of the main table.
“Look,” Beth said, pointing down. “There’s Carly’s dad.”
Jeremy looked, frowning again. “What are we going to call him?”
“Carly said we could start to call him Grandpa, if we want.”
Jeremy nodded solemnly. “But today he’s gonna marry Millie. So, are we supposed to call her Grandma?”
Beth sighed with exasperation. “No. Millie’s Millie. Besides, we already have a Grandma. Phyllis Carrington is our Grandma. There she is, by the fountain.” She smiled. “She’s leaving for Florida tomorrow. On an airplane.”
Jeremy shrugged. Phyllis was always leaving on airplanes these days. He didn’t pay much attention.
“There’s Doris, Carly’s cousin. Carly told me she’s the one who got her and Daddy together. Did you know that?”
Jeremy didn’t know, and neither did he care. But he did like Brian, Doris’s husband. “Brian has a cool car,” he told Beth. “He said he would take me for a ride sometime.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “In your dreams,” she muttered, still searching the growing crowd for familiar faces. “There’s Trevor and his new girlfriend.”
Jeremy perked up. “The one with the sexy clothes?” he said straining to look down again. But all he could see was the awning stretched over the main seating for the ceremony. “How come there are so many chairs?”
“Lots and lots of people are invited to this wedding. People from all over the place.”
Jeremy stirred, getting restless. “It wasn’t like this when Carly married Dad.”
“I know. Then it was just you and me and Carly and Daddy and Millie and Trevor and Grandma and Mr. Stevens.”
“I thought you said we’re supposed to call him Grandpa now.”
Beth gave him a look. “I forgot.”
Jeremy looked back down at the preparations. “I liked that wedding better,” he said softly, almost to himself.
“Oh, no. This is going to be the most beautiful wedding.” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality. “But mine is going to be even better.”
A sound from the hallway brought both their heads around. “Come on,” Beth whispered. “We better get out of here.”
She slipped out into the hallway, but Jeremy went by the crib for one last look at his new brother. The baby moved, scrunching up its little face, and Jeremy laughed.
“Hey little buddy,” he whispered. “I’m going to be your friend. I’m going to teach you how to sail boats in the irrigation canals and where the best rabbits are hiding on Stouter Hill and where Grandma hides her candy and what to do if a rattlesnake tries to getcha’.” He grinned, thinking of happy days ahead. “Stick with me Stevie. I’ll take care of ya.”
Sliding back down, he slipped out, too, and took the stairs on a run that launched him out the door and into the crowd. He searched through a forest of long legs and billowing skirts, trying to find some sign of Carly or his dad. No luck out on the driveway or in under the awning, although he heard, more than once, someone say, “Isn’t that the boy? Jeremy isn’t it?” He just ignored it and went on. He paused to look at the wedding cake. It was very tall. Would anyone notice if he just tasted the icing? Just a little dab, right here, behind the...
“Jeremy! You get away from there.”
Oops. Oh well, there would be time for that later when everyone had their attention on the bride and groom. He went into the house, walking right into the kitche
n. It was full of strangers, ladies with aprons, fixing food. The food smelled good, but the ladies didn’t look friendly. He went on through.
Where were Carly and Dad? He looked in the living room, the den, the dining room, then went back upstairs. He heard voices. They were in their bedroom.
“Don’t forget to knock, Jeremy.” Carly was always saying that. But Jeremy forgot. He pushed open the door and there they were, standing at the foot of the bed, in each other’s arms. His dad was holding Carly real tight and she had her head back, like they did in the movies.
“How many more weeks?” Joe was saying, aghast.
Carly was laughing, but she saw Jeremy and shushed Joe.
“Here’s our big boy,” she said, disentangling herself from Joe’s embrace. “Hello, sweetie.” She bent down to align his tie. “You look so handsome in your suit.”
He straightened his shoulders, proud to please her.
She tousled his hair and rose. “I’m going to check on the baby,” she said. “You can stay here and help your dad pick a tie for himself. Okay?”
Jeremy nodded solemnly, watching her leave in a whirl of cool silk. As soon as she was out of sight, he turned and tugged on his father’s pant leg.
“Dad, what are we going to call the baby?”
“Hmm?” Joe set out a stack of ties and began to go through them. “I don’t know. Steve I guess.”
“I want to call him Stevie.”
“Okay, big guy. You can call him what you want. He’s your brother.”
He looked down at the carpet and kicked his foot against it. “What are we going to call Mr. Stevens now?”
Joe pulled out a bright red tie, looked it over critically, and shook his head. “I don’t know. Oh, I suppose you could call him Grandpa if you want. Why don’t you talk it over with him?”
“But Millie is still Millie?”
“Yes.” He grinned for a moment, thinking of how she would respond to Grandma. “Yes, Millie is definitely still Millie.”
He nodded. “So...what is Stevie going to call Carly?”
Joe stopped and looked at him, beginning to get where this was headed. “Mommy. She’s his mommy.”
Jeremy was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his lower lip was trembling. “But I knew her first,” he said.
“Jeremy.” Reaching out, he took the little boy into his arms and sat down on the bed. “Jeremy, you already have another mom.”
Jeremy was fighting hard against tears. “But she’s not like a real mom.”
Joe’s heart ached. “I know, Jeremy. You never see her. She’s... sort of in another world. But legally, biologically, she’s your mother.”
Jeremy looked up into his father’s face, every bit of his soul in his huge eyes. “She’s my mother. But she’s not a mom. Carly is my mom.” He blinked rapidly, trying to get his point across. “I could call that mother my mother. And I could call Carly my mom. Okay?”
Joe stared at him. “Gee, Jeremy, I don’t know“
A grin began to develop along the lines of his wide mouth.
“What would Carly say?” Jeremy asked anxiously;
“What would Carly say?” He laughed softly, leaning down to kiss his son’s head. He thought he knew her well enough to have a pretty good idea of what Carly would say. “Come on,” he said to his son, getting up and swinging the boy to the floor before taking his hand. “Let’s go find out.”
They went into the hall and started into the baby’s room. Carly had the baby in her arms and she turned, smiling, to greet them.
“Hey, Carly,” Joe sang out as they entered the room. “Have you got a minute?” He grinned and gave his oldest son a wink. “I think I’ve got a present for you.”
Sweet Desperado
Destiny Bay Romances -
The Ranchers Book 3
By Helen Conrad
****************
Cast of Characters in the series Destiny Bay~The Ranchers #3
Sweet Desperado
Jessie Carrington ~Arizona rancher after reward money for capture of
Michael Drayton~man on the run who takes Jessie along with him
Harley ~Jessie’s dad who runs a run down truck stop
Jimmy ~orphan child who Jessie and Michael befriend
Uncle Fred~Harley’s brother who has three daughters and a jojoba ranch
Cerise Carrington~one of his daughters
Sam and Sheri~another of Fred’s daughters and her mafia-prone husband
Kerry Carter~pilot Michael hopes will help clear him of criminal charges
Lenny~Mr. Nargeant’s assistant and old friend of Jessie’s
Mr. Nargeant ~owner and operator of the Samarkand in Las Vegas
Joe Carrington ~Jessie’s cousin, a man who is saving wild Mustangs illegally.
Bob Taylor~cop after Michael
Vanessa~Sky’s daughter who once planned to marry Michael
Sky Matthews~operator/owner of Matthews Aviation, but crooked and corrupt
PROLOGUE
Michael On The Run
Michael Drayton took a deep breath, then grimaced, reacting to the unpleasant smell of old cigarettes and long-abandoned coffee cups. The room around him boiled with constant motion, constant noise. Telephones chimed, typewriters clacked, the gruff voices of police clerks were answered by shrill or surly ones. Michael had managed to block all that out, making it seem just another part of the hammer that was pounding at his temples. But the smell, Lord, couldn’t they air the place out once in a while?
He glanced across the desk at the serious face of Bob Taylor, who sat speaking softly into the telephone. They’d never been friends exactly, but he trusted Bob. They’d gone to prep school together right there in San Francisco, almost twenty years ago. They shared a common thread of experience that held the fabric of their lives in a parallel, if not a common, weave. He’d thought once that Bob had made a bad choice going into police work. Now he almost envied him.
Bob’s light hair was thinning on top. Michael’s hand went unconsciously to his own abundant dark hair, as though to reassure himself. For just a moment he had a picture in his mind of two young men both running for a soccer ball, sunlight beating down on their heads. He could hardly imagine this Bob doing that now. He wondered if he had changed as much himself.
But of course he had. Looking inward, he remembered the hope and optimism of those days. He’d been a golden boy then. Everything had fallen into place for him. The future had appeared limitless. When had it all begun to go bad?
Michael shifted position in his uncomfortable chair, watching as Bob put the phone back in its cradle and turned slowly toward him. The pale blue eyes were guarded, the face set. Michael stared hard, trying to read something in the man’s lack of expression. Whose side was he on?
“No help there,” Bob said shortly. Deliberately he set his elbows on the desk and leaned his chin on his folded fingers. “You don’t have a hell of a lot for me to go on,” he pointed out.
Annoyance flashed through Michael’s long, rangy body and he straightened in the chair, his strong hands grasping the armrests as though to keep from doing something else with them. “I went through the warehouses,” he said, his voice even and tightly controlled. “I saw abundant evidence of what Sky Matthews is doing. When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it. First he offered me a piece of the action, and when I refused, he threatened me.”
Bob’s face didn’t change. “So you decided to come here.”
Michael nodded.
Bob sighed. “You’ve got to give me more to go on than that. I mean, after all, the man’s been your benefactor. Rumor had it he was the only one who would hire you after you got out. That he was like a second father to you. And you want to turn him in on smuggling charges?” His eyes narrowed. “What’s this all about, Drayton?”
Michael’s blue eyes crackled with impatience. “I know how this looks. Why do you think I came to you instead of going straight to the FBI? You’re
a detective on the force. You know me. You know I wouldn’t make a charge like this if it wasn’t true.”
“I know you all right.”
Something about Bob’s tone sent a warning sizzling through Michael’s head, but he didn’t stop to analyze it. He leaned forward, his face intent, his manner eager.
“Okay, I can accept that you can’t run with this on my word alone. There’s someone else who knows more about it than I do. His name’s Kerry Carter. He was one of Sky’s pilots, quit about six months ago. He was close to Sky, was being groomed for upper management....”
“Until you cut him out, as I remember.”
Michael’s brows drew together. “We had our differences,” he acknowledged. “He tried to tell me what was going on at the time he left, but I didn’t believe him. Until I saw for myself.”
“So where is he?”
Michael hesitated. “That’s the hard part. I’m not sure exactly. He was sick to death of civilization when he left, told me he was going to Bisbee, that place in Arizona full of mines, near the Mexican border. He was going to live off the land, do some amateur prospecting, he said. If you could get hold of him...”
Bob’s shoulders rose and fell. “Forget it. I’ve got no grounds, no way I could justify a search for the man.”
Michael’s mouth thinned. “You’ve got to move fast on this. Sky’s probably covering up as we speak. Hiding the evidence.” Michael’s hand flexed on the armrest. “Who can you call? What can we do?”
Bob looked down at the paperwork on his desk, shuffling things here and there, before he answered. “Sky Matthews is a powerful man,” he said slowly. “You don’t go accusing a man like that of felonies without some shred of proof.”
Michael felt like a bomb about to explode. He wanted to wipe that guarded expression off Bob’s face, wipe his desk clean with a sweep of his arm, yell at him, yell at everyone, get some action. With effort, he controlled his temper and managed to speak calmly. “You’ll have the proof if you’ll go and take a look in those warehouses of his down by the Embarcadero.”