by Joanne Rock
“When Tabitha Barnes made her announcement that A. J. Sorensen was Alonzo, the pieces fell into place, since we knew him.” She needed to get back to work, and she slid out of the booth, taking her name tag with her. “Look, I can’t talk now, but tomorrow is my day off. I can meet you.”
Frowning, April covered Nicole’s hand with hers. “Are you suggesting that Alonzo fathered your sister’s son?”
“I seriously doubt it,” she told her honestly, passing over a scrap of paper with her phone number scribbled on it. “She was only twenty-one at the time, and Alonzo was much older.” Nicole had never gotten any hint that Matthew had been conceived under circumstances like that, and Lana had always seemed to like Alonzo well enough from what little they’d seen of him. But she didn’t treat him like the father of her child.
April shifted in her seat as if she was prepared to follow her. “Nicole, just one more thing—”
“Tomorrow, okay?” She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake by confiding in April Stephens. The woman was being employed by Alonzo’s son, after all. What if April decided it was in the Salazar family’s best interests to cut off support to Matthew altogether? “I can’t afford to lose this job.”
She’d lost too much already.
* * *
Every time April picked up her phone to cancel her date with Weston, she ended up setting it back down again.
Which was why she ended up dressed and ready for an evening with him even though she was far too flustered about her case to enjoy herself. Of course, an evening spent with him wasn’t supposed to be self-indulgent. She’d made the commitment to have dinner with Weston so she could learn something useful to help along her investigation. Now, she was distracted by leads she wanted to follow up on when the knock sounded on the door to her suite promptly at 7:00 p.m.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to stand perfectly still in the middle of the living area floor for a moment while she collected her thoughts. She’d dressed on autopilot, settling on the only cocktail dress she’d brought on the trip. Long-sleeved and silky, the plum-colored sheath was plain except for the slashes in the crepe sleeves and the keyhole slit in the bodice underneath an otherwise high neck. Odd how those small hints of skin seemed so provocative in an otherwise conservative dress, but maybe it was just her thoughts about Weston that made her so self-aware tonight.
Get it together.
She couldn’t afford to let her guard drop around him. Especially not if he was protecting a man who harbored as many secrets as Alonzo Salazar. Anger simmered at the possibility that Salazar had fathered a child without publicly acknowledging him as his son. Frustration fueled her steps as she charged toward the door to answer it. To confront Weston.
Yanking open the door faster than she’d intended, she realized she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of him in evening attire. He was dressed head to toe in black, his jacket and silk shirt matching his polished boots. The lack of tie and the open top button on his shirt were the only casual notes.
“You look beautiful.” He stepped into the suite and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, so quick and perfunctory she might have written it off as mere politeness on his part if her skin didn’t tingle there long afterward, the hint of teakwood aftershave teasing her nose.
“Thank you.” She reached for her coat on the elk-horn stand near the door, but he beat her to it, his hand covering hers for a moment before he took over the task.
“Allow me.” He slipped the black wool coat around her shoulders, gently sliding her hair out from under the fabric once he’d settled it there. His hands lingered on her shoulders briefly.
Squeezing slightly before letting her go.
Her belly tightened in response as he stepped around her to hold the door for her. Desire and defensiveness warred inside her as she thought about how to survive the evening with her self-respect intact. She couldn’t give in to the temptation of Weston’s natural charisma. Couldn’t let her thoughts linger on what it had been like to wake up in his arms this morning.
She would need to be relentless in her quest for answers. She refused to let him off the hook if he was protecting Alonzo Salazar.
Biding her time, she simply followed Weston into the elevator and down to the lobby of the main guest lodge. Steeling herself to his charm, she allowed him to lead her out into the cold Montana evening. They crossed a carefully swept path to one of the older ranch buildings. Graying and weathered, the small barn had been renovated with a large stone patio around it that led down to a skating pond. A few couples were taking advantage of the skating area now, lit by three powerful outdoor lights shining down on the shiny surface of the ice. Country music filled the air from invisible speakers, giving the night a festive feel.
April had seen bigger events take place out here in the time she’d been a guest at Mesa Falls, but she’d never been inside the building where Weston led her now. Only a few lights twinkled from the renovated barn, but the scent of roasted meat and sweet spices hung in the air as he opened a side door.
Stepping onto a thick braided wool rug, April wiped the snow from the high heels she’d worn, the thick ribbons around her ankles drooping slightly. A huge fire burned in a brick hearth along one wall where a single table held place settings for two. No music played indoors, but she could still hear the steel guitars from outside on the pond.
“Your table awaits,” Weston said as he slid her coat from her shoulders, his knuckles grazing her skin through the slashes in the crepe sleeves of her dress.
The shiver that went through her didn’t have anything to do with the cold.
But it was a welcome reminder that she needed to confront him. He’d told her he wasn’t going to try ignoring her questions any longer. Hadn’t he assured her he wasn’t going to threaten to ask security to remove her from the ranch again?
So as soon as he slid her chair under the table and seated himself across from her, she came quickly to the point.
“I’ve had a break in the case, Weston.” She met his hazel gaze in the flickering candlelight of a single white taper, trying not to wish that their date could have been for fun. For romantic reasons. She stuffed down those thoughts to focus on what she’d learned. “A new lead about where Alonzo’s money has been going.”
Five
Damn. He hadn’t wanted to talk business tonight. Not when April looked the way she did, a hot flame in deep purple silk, her beautiful body draped in crepe with peeks of skin that tantalized the hell out of him.
Regret settled over him like ashes on the wind, slowly stifling the hunger for her so he could concentrate on her words.
“Care to share?” he prompted her when she didn’t seem inclined to continue.
He had no idea what his mentor had done with his money, and frankly, he hadn’t thought it was any of his business. But after Tabitha Barnes’s stunt at the kickoff gala for Mesa Falls Ranch, revealing Alonzo as the author of a Hollywood tell-all, Weston had gotten a bad feeling about the guy’s secrets. Alonzo Salazar had known too much about all of the owners of the ranch. Could those secrets come back to hurt them now?
Weston needed to protect their business and, yes, their secrets. They had too much to lose if all the nuances of their past came to light. So he was going to have to tread carefully with April and not get distracted by the attraction between them. His gaze slid briefly to the narrow gap in the fabric between her breasts, her pale skin warmed to burnished bronze by the firelight.
“I spoke to a young woman who believes he’s paying for the schooling of her thirteen-year-old nephew.” April’s words cut through his desire. “A motherless child whose paternity is in question.”
Thirteen years old?
Weston didn’t need a reminder of the upheaval that had been going on in his life then. Upheaval that Alonzo had been a part of. A foreboding chill raced up his spine.
“What child?�
�� Weston needed more facts before he jumped to conclusions. “You think Alonzo had other offspring he never acknowledged?”
“It’s possible. Although the mother was much younger than him.” Her lips compressed into a line before April spoke again. “And as you know, Alonzo was working at the Dowdon School fourteen years ago when the child would have been conceived.”
The school Weston had attended with all five other owners of Mesa Falls Ranch. April knew about that connection. Alonzo had been their class adviser.
The foreboding grew colder. Sharper. Especially since it was far more likely the father was someone who had been closer to the girl’s age. Like Weston would have been at the time, or any of his classmates.
“Who? Who’s the mother?”
The Dowdon School hadn’t been coed at the time. Very few girls crossed their paths except on carefully chaperoned outings where they attended dances at one of the other schools or went on a trail ride. His thoughts were racing, a cold sweat popping along his forehead at the memory of the worst trail ride of his life. Had one of his friends fathered a child without knowing?
Hell. Had he? He’d been careful, but those had been the roughest years of his life.
“I’m still investigating that.” April’s brow furrowed in frustration. “I have to assume the woman I spoke to gave me a fake name—Nicole Smith. She said the boy’s name is Matthew, but she didn’t give me her sister’s name. Matthew’s mother.”
“Nicole Smith? I don’t know her.”
April unlatched a satin evening purse she’d laid on the chair beside her and withdrew her phone. Powering up the screen, she slid the device across the table to him before she spoke again. “This is her as an adult.” She showed him a grainy employee ID photo from the ranch. “I haven’t obtained a photo from when she was a teen, let alone found a photo of the sister. If there is one.”
“You’re suggesting she could be the mother herself?” he asked, looking at the photo again but still coming up blank.
“It’s possible. She said her sister was twenty-one at the time, whereas she herself would have only been fifteen, assuming her age is correct on her employee application.”
“Twenty-one?” he mused aloud, his brain trying to align the facts she’d shared. “Alonzo would have been in his mid-forties.”
April arched a pale eyebrow at him before tucking her phone back in her purse. He waved off the server who’d arrived at their table with a water pitcher and wine that Weston had selected ahead of time. He took over the serving duties, pouring drinks for both of them so they could continue their discussion privately.
Faced with assumptions about Alonzo she’d left unspoken, Weston realized he might need to break his longtime silence on that nightmare summer fourteen years ago. He couldn’t stay silent and let his old mentor’s reputation go up in flames. Gut sinking, he took a deep breath and met April’s blue gaze across the table.
“I realize that Alonzo made a questionable decision to write that book in the first place. That doesn’t make him categorically a bad person.” Weston took a sip of the pinot noir he’d chosen to pair with their elk medallions. Not that he would be able to enjoy the meal or his compelling companion if he couldn’t wind up this discussion fast.
“He wasn’t a faithful romantic partner to any of the women in his life, either,” April noted drily before she sampled her own wine. “He didn’t believe in marriage and insisted on being single all his life despite fathering Marcus and Devon with women on opposite coasts.”
“Point taken. But maybe the reason he insisted on not marrying was because he had enough self-awareness to realize he would make a terrible husband.” Weston had spent a considerable amount of time with the guy in the years before his death, because Alonzo liked the peaceful solitude of the ranch. “But you haven’t spoken to my aunt Fallon, who dated him later in life, and she might have a different perspective to offer.”
Their server returned, discreetly sliding a sampler platter of the chef’s specialties onto the table between them. The scents of cured trout and bison short ribs wafted from the dish. The fireplace warmed them on one side of their table, while the view of the skating pond beckoned from a tall window on the other. Weston’s gaze remained on April, however. She drew his attention again and again. Not just because she was lovely, but because of her.
He wanted to know more about what made this fascinating woman tick, and he regretted having to spend their time together rehashing a past he’d rather forget. What would she think of him if she discovered his role in that long-ago summer?
April waited until the server departed. “I would like very much to speak to your aunt. I made the trip to Kalispell to speak to her before the holidays, but she was out of town.”
“You may think I tipped her off that you were coming, but I promise you that I did no such thing.” He had been actively avoiding April’s questions then, but he hadn’t done anything else to thwart her case. “Anyway, I don’t believe that Alonzo fathered a child with a woman half his age during the years he spent at Dowdon, as I’m sure DNA results will attest.”
April’s small frown plumped her lower lip in a way that had him wanting a taste of her. He suppressed the hunger by busying himself with serving her from the sampler platter. He slid some of the tasting selections toward her before filling his own appetizer plate.
“I suppose you’re right. We could discount Alonzo easily enough if one of his sons will participate in a DNA test.” She cut her food into precise portions. Neat. Orderly. “So, assuming he’s not the father, why do you think he would pay for this particular child’s education after taking pains to hide the money trail?”
“Maybe he felt a responsibility toward one of the child’s parents. It’s far more likely that the father of the child was a Dowdon student.”
“Possibly one of your classmates?” She hesitated, her fork hovering in midair. “One of the ranch’s co-owners?”
“No.” He dismissed the idea now that he’d had more time to think about it, his head crowding with old memories of his friends. They weren’t the most outwardly likable group of guys he’d ever known, but he trusted them. They were good men. Honorable men. “If Alonzo knew that one of the Mesa Falls Ranch owners had that kind of responsibility, he wouldn’t have rested until we owned up to it. He would never settle for secretly financing a kid’s education himself.”
“Why not?” April leaned closer, a single blond curl falling forward to rest on her forearm near her water glass. “That is, how can you be so sure of his character?”
He weighed his responses, knowing he took a risk trusting her with the story that would help her better understand Alonzo. What if she turned her focus from Salazar to the ranch owners, who all carried a burden of guilt for that long-ago summer? But he’d witnessed April’s work in her investigation, and he respected her methods. He’d rather take his chances with her than with the tabloid media that had been swarming the ranch ever since Tabitha Barnes’s revelation about Alonzo.
“Because Alonzo Salazar was a good mentor to me at the darkest time in my life.”
* * *
April knew that Weston’s words were heartfelt. She could see the sincerity in his hazel eyes. Did that mean he was closer to sharing the truth with her? Part of her regretted having to pry into his personal life for her case, especially when she’d grown to like him. Would he have ever shared anything personal about himself otherwise, she wondered.
“He was your class adviser at school.” She’d learned that much, but it didn’t account for the bond between them. “But you obviously maintained a relationship with him long afterward.”
Nodding, Weston straightened in his chair, his food hardly touched even though everything was excellent. She took another bite of the bison short ribs, wishing she could simply enjoy this feast for the senses. The food and wine. The seductively appealing man across from her.
She felt like she was on the precipice of a key break in her work—in an even bigger way than she’d felt this afternoon with Nicole Smith. Once pieces of a puzzle began to fall in place, the final picture always seemed to come into focus with startling speed.
“You have my word.” She understood there were trade-offs to obtaining information.
They were all alone in the renovated barn space. The chef and waitstaff were in the kitchen while Weston and April finished the appetizer course. Not that she could bring herself to eat at the moment; she was too riveted by what Weston had to say.
He nodded, appearing satisfied with her response. “Fourteen years ago, when I was a sophomore at Dowdon, a group of us went horseback riding deep in the Ventana Wilderness close to the school in Southern California.” Pausing, he drained the rest of his wine and then set the glass aside. “There were seven of us. All of the owners of Mesa Falls Ranch, plus one other student. Only six of us returned.”
A chill tripped over her at his words. Not just because of the implication, but also because of the shuttered look in his eyes. She’d researched his time at school briefly and hadn’t found anything of note. Surely she wouldn’t have missed something catastrophic.
“It started out well enough,” he continued. “We were a rambunctious crew, and needed to cut loose. The ride was just what we needed.”
Weston held up a hand to wave the server away as he attempted to return. “Until we decided we didn’t want to return to school.”
April shifted in her seat, her calf accidentally brushing his as she crossed her legs. The contact caused a rush of heat through her in spite of the boundaries she wanted to keep between them.
“Ever? Or just not that day?”
“Just for the weekend. One of the guys was having a bad week and he convinced us to spend the night out there instead of taking the horses back.” He shook his head. “There was some disagreement, but we’d all thought Zach had been having a rough go, so we figured if it would help him to have a night out with the guys, maybe he’d be the better for it.”