Eight
Three days later, in midafternoon, J. D. Cade entered the Hip Hop Café. He’d driven into Whitehorn to pick up a part for one of the tractors on the Kincaid spread and decided a piece of homemade Hip Hop pie was in order before he returned to the ranch.
He’d buy Freeway a doughnut, too, J.D. decided, glancing around for a place to sit in the crowded café. The dumb dog had done his dramatic deep-sigh routine with such expertise over being left in the truck that he deserved a reward for his performance.
J.D.’s heart did a funny little two-step when he saw Dr. Carey Hall sliding out of one of the booths. Her short, curly blond hair was in fluffy disarray, and she wore khaki slacks with a baggy pink sweater about three sizes too big for her.
J.D. couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
Once again, he admitted, seeing Carey Hall made him feel as though he’d been punched in the solar plexus, making it difficult to breathe.
Why Carey had such an unsettling, sensual impact on him, he had no idea. Yeah, sure, she was pretty enough, in a wholesome, no-nonsense way. She didn’t use makeup and wore clothes that gave no hint of what her womanly attributes might be beneath the oversize garments.
Carey was intelligent, as was evidenced by the fact that she was a pediatrician who was held in high regard in Whitehorn, J.D. mused on. Carey’s daughter, Sophie, was a cute-as-a-button five-year-old bundle of energy.
He’d heard Winona Cobbs laughing one time about the fact that Sophie Hall had her heart set on finding herself a daddy. Carey Hall, Winona had added, wasn’t keen on the idea one iota.
J.D. glanced around quickly in embarrassment as he realized he hadn’t moved since entering the café. He’d simply stood there like a lump, drinking in the sight of Carey, who had lingered to chat with someone sitting up at the counter.
Whoa, he thought. Carey was waggling her fingers in farewell and…yes, now she was headed straight toward him. Oh, Lord, she was smiling, and those dimples of hers were enough to cut him off at the knees.
“Good afternoon, J.D.,” Carey said, stopping in front of him. “It’s nice to see you again.”
J.D. touched the brim of his Stetson. “Hello, Carey. It’s nice to see you, too.” Brilliant, Kincaid. He’d sounded like a parrot, echoing her words. “I came in for some pie. Could I interest you in joining me?”
“I just had a slice of coconut cream that was delicious,” Carey said, still smiling. “Thank you for the thought, though.”
“Could you handle another cup of coffee?” J.D. said. “Or a soft drink? Iced tea?”
“Well, I…”
“J.D.,” Janie Carson said, seeming to appear out of nowhere. She splayed one hand on J.D.’s upper right arm. “How are you doing, sugar? The minute I saw you come in, I saved you a slice of chocolate pie. I know that’s your favorite. Of course, there are a lot of other things you like far more than chocolate pie. Right, sugar?”
J.D. frowned. “Look, Janie, I…”
“I’ve got to dash,” Carey said, no longer smiling. She scooted around J.D. and Janie. “Bye.”
“Bye-bye,” Janie said, in a singsong voice. J.D. removed Janie’s hand from his arm as he turned his head to watch Carey hurry out of the café. He looked at Janie again, a frown on his face.
“What was that all about?” he said. “You were acting as though you and I…” He sighed. “Never mind.”
“You want the chocolate pie, don’t you?” Janie said, beaming at him.
“Yeah, I suppose, and wrap up a doughnut for Freeway. I’ll sit up at the counter there.”
“You bet,” Janie said. “You settle in, and I’ll fix you right up.” She hurried away.
J.D. slid onto a stool, greeted the man next to him, then scowled at the counter.
If Janie Carson did any more of her famous fixing, he thought, he’d be lucky if Carey Hall even said hello the next time he saw her. Damn.
At seven o’clock that evening, Dana’s head snapped up as a knock sounded at the motel door. She set aside the book she was reading and slid off the bed, padding to the door on bare feet.
“Who is it?” she said, having long since discovered that the door had no safety peephole.
“Kurt.”
Dana reached for the chain, then hesitated a moment, ordering her heart to slow its now racing tempo.
All the man had done, she thought with self-disgust, was say his name in that oh-so-sexy voice, and she’d started melting like ice cream in the summer sun. Ridiculous.
Dana squared her shoulders, slipped off the chain and opened the door.
“Hello, Kurt.” Her glance fell on the box he was carrying. “You’ve come bearing gifts?”
“That depends on how you feel about what I’m bringing you. May I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, stepping back.
Kurt entered the room and placed the box on the bed. Dana closed the door and went to peer inside the mysterious box.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said. “Kittens. Three kittens. But they’re so tiny, Kurt. They look like funny little mice.”
“Yeah, I know.” Kurt dragged one hand through his hair. “Dana, that cat you named Mama Kitty died after giving birth to these three. I couldn’t see a thing wrong with her. I guess maybe her heart gave out.”
“Oh, no,” Dana said. “That’s awful, so sad. She was the sweetest thing. Did you bury her in a pretty place?”
Kurt nodded. “There’s a nice grove of pine trees beyond the house. That’s the cemetery I’ve been using for animals since I was a kid.”
“Thank you for putting Mama Kitty there, Kurt.”
“No problem. The actual problem is these kittens. I talked to the vet and he told me what to do to try to save them. I don’t know, Dana, it’s going to be a hell of a lot of work, but I figured you’d want them to have a chance at making it.”
Kurt paused and shook his head.
“Who am I kidding?” he said. “I want them to have a chance, too, believe it or not. Sometimes I think my mother is an angel now, who is looking over my shoulder. She’d have my hide if I didn’t do everything possible to save these babies.”
Dana smiled. “What a lovely thing to say.”
“Yeah, well…” Kurt cleared his throat. “Forget that. The fact is, these kittens have to be hand-fed. I’m not home enough to do it. Do you want the job?”
“Yes, of course. What do I do?”
Kurt took a sack from the box.
“There are special bottles in here, and a bunch of cans of formula. There are several layers of towels in the bottom of the box there, so you can always have a dry, clean one under them.
“Oh, and they eat on demand, not on a schedule. In other words, they’re calling all the shots. You should hear the racket they make when they’re hungry. Talk about demanding.”
“You fed them?”
Kurt nodded. “I was afraid I was going to squish them, because each one looked so small in my hand. I managed to get enough in their stomachs to satisfy them so they’d go back to sleep.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Detective Noble.”
Kurt laughed. “I have to admit that I rather surprised myself on this one. There I sat, sticking a bottle in the mouth of a kitten that looked like a mouse.”
“Mouse,” Dana said, tapping one fingertip against her chin. “I like that. I think we should call the one that is all white Mouse. Okay?”
“I wouldn’t pick out names for them at this point,” Kurt said, frowning
“Why not?”
“They might not make it, Dana. It will be harder on you if they have names, then…. Understand?”
“Yes, but I’ll feel badly if they die, even if all I’d ever called them was Kitten One, Two and Three.”
“You’re a softy.”
“Kurt Noble,” Dana said, laughing, “so are you. Who contacted the vet, bought these little guys special formula, made them up a crib in a box, then brought them here for tender loving care?”
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“Don’t tell anyone, for Pete’s sake,” he said, smiling. “It would blow my macho image.”
“Oh? How much is my silence worth to you?”
“Well, let’s see.” Kurt framed Dana’s face in his hands and brushed his lips over hers. Dana shivered. “What can I do to guarantee your silence?” He outlined her lips with the tip of his tongue. Her knees began to tremble. “There must be something.”
“You’re rotten,” Dana said, a catch in her voice.
“You’re delicious,” Kurt said, then captured her mouth with his.
Kurt was most definitely home, Dana thought, and then all rational thought fled.
The kiss intensified, heightening passions to a heated, feverish pitch. Kurt’s tongue delved into Dana’s mouth, and she met it with her own tongue in a seductive duel.
She sank her fingertips into Kurt’s thick hair as he dropped his hands from her face to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close.
They were there again, in the field of wildflowers that danced in a fragrant breeze beneath the blue Montana sky.
They were there again, and there was nowhere else they wished to be.
Kurt broke the kiss to enable them to shed their clothes. He moved the box containing the sleeping kittens to the table as Dana placed her books on the nightstand, then swept back the blankets on the bed.
They fell onto the cool sheets, each reaching for the other eagerly, joyfully, in unspoken agreement.
Kurt rested on one forearm, ignoring the ache in his damaged shoulder, as he trailed nibbling kisses along Dana’s slender throat. He sought one of her breasts, paying homage to the sweet bounty with his flickering tongue. His hand skimmed over her dewy skin, along her thigh, across the flat plane of her stomach.
Dana’s hands roamed over Kurt’s muscled back, savoring the masculine contours. She was on fire, the heat of desire consuming her with burning need. Wherever Kurt’s lips touched her tingling skin, flames licked into being, hotter, higher.
“Kurt,” she whispered. “Please.”
He entered her and began the rocking rhythm that she matched perfectly.
Hotter, higher.
They held back, anticipating, now knowing how glorious the summit of their climb would be, waiting until they could wait no more.
“Ah, Dana…” Kurt said, and then a groan rumbled deep in his chest.
They were flung into a place far above the wildflowers. Their place, only theirs. They hovered there, not wishing to return to reality. Slowly, slowly, they drifted back.
Kurt shifted to lie next to Dana. Their heads were on the same pillow, hands resting comfortably, possessively on each other’s cooling bodies. Neither of them spoke as they drifted off into sated slumber.
When Dana was jolted awake, the room was dark and the expanse of bed next to her was empty. She blinked several times, wondering foggily what the strange noise was that had brought her from her deep sleep.
“Oh,” she said, reaching over to snap on the light. “The kittens. The babies are hungry.”
Ten minutes later, Dana sat propped against the pillows on the bed, feeding Mouse with the minuscule bottle.
Absurd, she thought suddenly. If she really looked closely at her present circumstances, the whole scenario was absolutely absurd.
She was perched on a rumpled bed in a crummy motel in dinky Whitehorn, Montana, feeding an orphaned kitten named Mouse.
She was running away from the police in Chicago, but at every opportunity ran into the arms of a police officer in Whitehorn.
The affair—and there was no other word to describe it—that she was having with Kurt Noble was becoming more and more intense, causing the caring to grow deeper, wrapping itself around her heart.
She still refused to succumb to tears over what Natalie had done to her, what the future might bring because of her sister’s hateful actions.
Somewhere down the line, when she allowed herself the luxury of weeping, she hoped to the heavens that a broken heart caused by her foolish involvement with Kurt wouldn’t be added to the list of reasons she was crying.
How quickly her life had been changed by the nightmare Natalie created, Dana mused. And yet… Because of the distance standing between what her existence was now and what it had been, she could clearly view her life in Chicago.
She’d been focused on her career with a driving tunnel vision that left room for little else. She had dated occasionally, had been aware of but ignored the fact that Todd Gunderson wanted more from her than casual outings. She felt nothing for Todd beyond friendship.
Growing up in Natalie’s vibrant shadow, watching boys, then, later, men, being drawn to her sister’s reckless life-style like moths to a flame, had resulted in Dana believing that men weren’t interested in a woman of intelligence who was determined to excel in her chosen career. Loving intensely, and being loved in kind, simply wasn’t going to happen.
But now there was Kurt.
That an earthy, sensual, masculinity-personified man like Kurt Noble desired her was astonishing…and wonderful. That she responded to his kiss and touch with such abandonment, holding nothing back, was startling…and fantastic.
When she fled from Chicago, Dana thought, she’d shed her straitlaced facade, along with the boredom of her day-to-day life. She was frightened to death of what might become of her if Natalie couldn’t be found, but at the same time was excited beyond measure at the discovery of the Dana Bailey within her she hadn’t even known was there.
“It’s all so crazy, Mouse,” Dana said to the kitten, “and so very, very confusing.”
The next day Kurt was walking back to the police station after having lunch at the Hip Hop.
“Yo, Kurt,” a voice called. “Wait a second.”
Kurt turned, a smile appearing on his face as he instantly recognized the man sprinting toward him.
Travis Bains was tall and nicely muscled from the hard work he continually did on his ranch, had sun-streaked brown hair, and was considered an extremely handsome man by the female populace of Whitehorn.
But Travis was not available. He was a one-woman man, who was married to Lori Parker Bains, a highly respected midwife. Lori and Travis had grown up together, married, divorced, then remarried about six years after dissolving their union. They now had three daughters—a toddler, as well as infant twins.
Travis Bains and Kurt Noble had been best friends since they were old enough to walk and talk. The pair shook hands when Travis halted his run in front of Kurt.
“How are you?” Travis said.
“Good, doing good,” Kurt said. “How are Lori and your harem?”
“Fantastic. I’ll take pity on you and not whip out the wad of pictures I have in my wallet. Lori wants to know why you’re being such a stranger. You’ve only come by the ranch twice since you’ve been back in Whitehorn.”
“I’ll get out there soon. Things have been a bit hectic.”
“Shoulder healing up?” Travis said.
“Coming along.” Kurt paused. “Are you in a rush? I have some time left before I’m due back in the office. I’d like to talk to you, Travis.”
“Sure. I was just going to grab a sandwich at the Hip Hop. That can wait. What’s on your mind?”
“Let’s go sit on that bench under the mulberry over there.”
The two men settled on the wooden bench, each stretching out long legs and crossing them at the ankle. Following the unspoken code of men engaging in a serious discussion, they stared at their toes, instead of looking at each other.
Several minutes passed in silence. Travis waited patiently, knowing Kurt would divulge what was on his mind when he was ready.
“Travis,” Kurt finally said, “I told you I was shot when an undercover drug bust went momentarily sour.”
“Mmm,” Travis said.
“What I didn’t say was that it was all my fault. Oh, we got the perps, but taking a bullet was due to my own stupidity.”
“That a fact?”
“What do you mean?”
“I actually believed that she had gotten swept away by a smooth talker, was in over her head before she realized what had happened. Her ‘Oh, poor me’ routine was Academy Award material.” Kurt laughed, the sound a sharp, harsh bark of self-disgust. “I was going to save her from the scumball who had pulled her under, get her off the drugs she was addicted to.”
“Mmm,” Travis said.
“Are you ready for this, Travis? I even told her that I was a cop.”
“Well, hell, Noble.”
“Yeah, I know. I assured her I’d do everything I could for her when the bust was made, get her into rehab, plead her case with my superiors. I was the original knight in shining armor, ad nauseam.”
“And?”
“She turned on me at the last minute. It looked like the perps were going to make it out of there, so she went with what she thought was the winning side, hollering her head off that I was a cop. Her sweet patootie shot me, the sleazeball.
“Then our guys came charging in and that was all she wrote. The whole drug ring, including that damnable babe, are in the slammer.”
“Well, you didn’t die from the bullet wound,” Travis said. “Do we have a happy ending here? Except, of course, for the fact that you’re still mad as hell at yourself for being suckered by a woman.”
“I was a fool.”
“Yep, and I was a fool to have lost Lori for a half-dozen years. When I set out to win her back, I had to put the past behind me so I could move toward the future. Are you following what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, and you’re right, I know you are, but I’m scared out of my shorts that the past might be repeating itself, in a way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dana Bailey.”
“The woman who was involved in that holdup at the convenience store?”
“Yes.”
Travis nodded. “I hear she’s still in town, been here three weeks now, and is staying out at the Whitehorn Motel so she’ll be available to testify at the trial of the guy who shot Clem. Clem is still in a coma.
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