by Gina Wilkins
“Actually Molly’s the reason I’m here,” Shane said, getting down to business. “She wanted me to find you.”
Mark was now thoroughly confused. “Molly wanted you to find me?”
Shane’s much-younger half-sister had been a red-haired moppet the last time Mark had seen her, and he had barely known her. Jared had not encouraged his foster boys to spend much time with his pampered and protected daughter. Still, it had been hard to live at the ranch for more than a few days without getting to know Molly at least a little, since she had seemed to be everywhere at once, chattering and asking questions and begging to be included.
Shane nodded, his firm mouth tilting into a lopsided smile. “I don’t know if you remember, but Molly has always had a knack for getting what she wants.”
“And what is it she wants from me?” Mark asked a bit warily.
“She has decided she wants to throw a big surprise party for Dad and Cassie’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in October. She wants all of Dad and Cassie’s favorite foster sons to be there. There are a few we haven’t heard from in several years, so I’m not sure she’ll have everyone there, but I told her I would help out as much as possible. When I learned that you live here in Little Rock, I promised her I would contact you while I’m here for a visit with my aunt Lindsay and her husband.”
“How did you find me?” Mark asked curiously. He had made no effort to hide from his past, but he had no ties left with anyone in Texas. He’d lived in Arkansas for nearly six years now, since he’d accepted a job with a large Little Rock accounting firm.
“I have three uncles who own a private investigation agency in Dallas,” Shane explained. “They specialize in finding people—reuniting families, locating biological parents for adoptees, that sort of thing. They have a division that offers corporate security consultations, but they’re best known for finding people. Not that you were all that hard to find, since you have a Web page for your accounting business—with your photograph on it. I recognized you as soon as I saw your picture.”
Mark shook his head in amazement. “I wasn’t trying to hide. I just never expected to hear from anyone from that stage of my life.”
“I understand if your memories of that time are unhappy ones. Your mother was very ill, wasn’t she? I remember you were anxious to get back to her so you could take care of her and your little sister.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course,” Shane answered simply. “I remember you very well, Mark. I guess I always identified with you because I’d have felt the same way if anyone had tried to take me away from Cassie and Molly. Especially if I thought they needed me.”
Mark was absurdly pleased that Shane remembered him that well. He’d had a slight case of hero worship for Shane back then, convinced that Shane could do anything. Ride, rope, play sports, charm every female within sight of his lethal dimples. Mark had wanted to grow up to be just like Shane. Except for the cowboy part.
“My memories of the ranch are not bad ones,” he felt obligated to say. “Except for my concern about my mother and sister, I was happy there. I always felt rather guilty about not keeping in touch, but it upset my mother too badly to be reminded of the time we had to be apart. She died a few years later, and then it just seemed too late to make contact again.”
“That makes sense. But I know Dad and Cassie would really like to see you, if you can come. You were always special to them. Cassie said you had the biggest heart of any of her boys.”
“He hasn’t changed a bit,” Miranda murmured beside him.
He slanted her a look. He wasn’t sure how he felt about hearing that the Walkers remembered him fondly after all these years. He had been in the habit of thinking himself pretty much alone in the present, completely disconnected from his past except for his sporadic contact with his globe-trotting sister. He had never considered revisiting his youth—and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.
“I brought you a letter from Molly giving you all the details.” Shane set a sealed white envelope on the coffee table. “We’ll understand, of course, if you can’t come, but we all hope you can make it.”
“Your children might enjoy a visit to the ranch,” Kelly added. “We’ll have games and tours and horseback riding going on all weekend.”
Payton would love that, Mark reflected. So would the boys, actually—not that he expected to be involved in their lives in October, which was still five months away.
Looking to his future was almost as depressing as looking backward.
Shane spoke again. “If you can’t come, but you have a special memory of your time on the ranch—or if you feel that your stay there benefited you in some way since—Molly would appreciate you sending a note to her about it. I think she’s making a memory book.”
“If I can’t come, I will definitely send a letter,” Mark agreed. That seemed like a small enough favor for the people who had once been so kind to him.
“You would be welcome to bring guests, of course,” Kelly said, smiling at Miranda. “There is always room at the ranch for new friends—and especially room for extra children.”
Both Mark and Miranda merely smiled noncommittally. Mark could not even say whether he would make the trip to the ranch. He couldn’t begin to guess what Miranda thought of the open invitation.
Shane glanced at his watch. “We’d better be going. I promised Aunt Lindsay we would be back in time for dinner.”
“I remember your aunt Lindsay, I think.” Mark had a vague mental picture of a pretty, brown-haired, blue-eyed woman. “She’s married to a doctor, isn’t she?”
“Nick Grant,” Shane confirmed with a nod. “They visited the ranch several times while you were there. Along with my father’s other four siblings and their families, of course.”
“Your father is one of six siblings?” Miranda asked, mentally doing the math.
“Seven, actually. One died in his teens. They were orphaned young, separated and sent into foster homes. The youngest two were adopted—Aunt Michelle and Aunt Lindsay. They were all adults when they were finally reunited more than twenty years ago.”
“They’re an extremely close family now,” Kelly added. “No matter how many newcomers join them, they are always greeted with open arms and open hearts. That’s the way it was for me when I met them all.”
Shane gave his wife a loving smile before glancing back at Mark. “That’s why my dad takes in at-risk boys—because of his own past. Lindsay and Nick take in foster kids, too.”
“Foster kids?”
The words were repeated in a shocked, high-pitched voice. Mark looked around to the doorway, as did the other adults.
Kasey and Jamie stood there, staring at Miranda with stricken faces. Mark wasn’t sure which boy had spoken, but they looked equally upset.
“You said we didn’t have to go to a foster home.” Mark thought it was Kasey who made the accusation to Miranda. “You said we could stay with you.”
Jamie stood mutely beside his brother, his lower lip quivering, tears tracking down his cheeks.
Miranda jumped to her feet and hurried toward the boys. “We weren’t talking about you guys. Mr. Walker was telling us about his aunt.”
“He said she takes foster kids. You’re going to send us to her, aren’t you?”
“No.” Miranda knelt in front of them, her expression almost fierce. “I’m not sending you away, Kasey. I gave you my word that you can stay with me, and I’m not going to take it back. You really did walk in while we were talking about something that had nothing to do with you two. I promise.”
“She’s right, boys,” Mark seconded, moving to stand behind her. “We were actually talking about me. Mr. Walker’s parents were my foster family a long time ago when my mother got sick and couldn’t take care of me. That’s why he came to visit me—just to catch up with an old friend.”
Jamie’s breath hitched. “We can still stay with you, Aunt ’Randa?”
“Absolutely,” she assure
d him. “We’re going to move into our new apartment next week and we’ll get along just fine together. We’re family, Jamie.”
The boy’s eyes filled again. “Mama is family, and she went away.”
Mark watched as Miranda’s cheeks paled. He felt his own throat tighten. He knew Shane and Kelly were watching with expressions of sympathy; they had probably figured out the situation by now. It must have looked like a familiar enough scene to them, considering their experience with children separated from their biological parents for a multitude of reasons.
Miranda gathered a twin in each arm and gave them a hug. It was the first time Mark had seen her do so.
“I am not sending you away,” she told them firmly. “Is that clear?”
Both boys hugged her back, Jamie clinging to her neck. They seemed to be convinced, finally, and immeasurably relieved. After a moment, she sent them back to the kitchen, promising to join them very soon.
As soon as they were out of hearing, she turned to Shane. “You said your uncles specialize in locating missing people?”
“Yes. I have three uncles and a cousin in that business.”
“Would you mind leaving me a phone number for them? There’s someone I really need to find.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mark waited until after all the children were in bed before confronting Miranda. He suspected it had been her intention to slip off to bed without having a private conversation with him, but he’d caught her in the kitchen filling a glass with water. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to hire someone to look for your sister?”
“I need to find her,” Miranda said, her expression a mixture of defensiveness and stubbornness. “The boys deserve to know where their mother is, and whether she’s all right.”
“You think she’ll take them back if you find her? That she’ll be in a position to do so, even if she wants to?”
Miranda set the glass down with such a hard thump that water splashed over her hand and the counter. She looked genuinely annoyed when she snapped, “I am not trying to get rid of the twins. I simply want to find my sister.”
“She asked you not to try to find her. She implied that you could put her in danger if you did so.”
“I’ll explain that to Shane’s uncle when I talk to him. Surely a trained P.I. will know how to handle a situation like this.”
“Maybe.”
“What would you do if it were your sister?” she challenged him. “If she suddenly disappeared, leaving only a cryptic note? Something tells me you’d have started looking a lot sooner than I have.”
“Maybe,” he said again.
“You know you would. The only reason it has taken me this long is that I was so stunned at first, and I had the boys to worry about. I just need to know she’s okay. And maybe I need to be convinced she isn’t going to just show up on my doorstep and take the boys away after I’ve rearranged my whole life—and theirs.”
“So you want to keep them?”
“I want what’s best for them,” she replied wearily, her momentary flash of temper cooling now. “They shouldn’t have to worry all the time about being sent to foster homes, or never knowing where they’re going to be living.”
Mark studied her face for a moment. “I said once that you loved them, and you didn’t seem to know how to respond. I think you know how you feel about them now.”
“I do love them. How could I not? They’re amazing kids.”
“They are special,” he agreed, “which isn’t to say there won’t be problems with them as they get older and more sure of themselves.”
“I’m aware of that. It makes me nervous, but I guess I can deal with it—I have no choice, really, do I?”
“You don’t have to deal with it alone.”
His quiet words made Miranda back instinctively against the counter behind her. She couldn’t know, of course, that the words had startled him almost as much as they had her.
She forced a bright smile that looked completely fake. “You’ve offered your assistance any time I need it. That’s very generous of you. You’re a good friend.”
“Surely you know by now that I want to be a lot more than a friend to you,” he said roughly. He hadn’t actually intended to get into this tonight, but she seemed poised on the verge of flight at any moment. He wasn’t sure he would have another chance.
“I told you I can’t deal with this now.” There was an edge of panic in her voice.
“I know you did. And I will give you time, but I guess I feel the way you do about needing some answers, Miranda. I’d like to know that when you leave here, you won’t be cutting me out of your life without a backward look. I need to know you’re going to give us a chance.”
“I’ll be very busy for a while,” she said, avoiding his gaze, “settling into the new apartment, taking care of work and the boys—”
“Damn it, you are looking for excuses.”
Her temper flared again. “Maybe I’m just not interested. Have you considered that?”
“I’ve considered it,” he replied coolly. “And then I remember what it was like when we made love at your apartment, and I know better.”
Her cheeks pinkened, and he could almost see the sensual memories swirling within her amber eyes. “That was just a one-time thing. A way to blow off some steam.”
He took a step closer to her, his eyes locked with hers now. “So you keep trying to convince me. I don’t believe it—and I don’t think you do, either.”
“You hardly even know me.”
“I’ve known you for a year,” he countered, moving a step closer. “And I’ve wanted you almost that long.”
“There’s a physical attraction—”
“It’s a hell of a lot more than that.” He brought his hands up and captured her face between them. “I’m crazy about you, Miranda Martin. I have been for months. And what’s more, you’ve known it.”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and though it seemed to be a subconscious action on her part, it made his gut clench. His gaze focused hungrily on her glistening lips when she said, “I knew there was…something. But I told you, I don’t get involved with men with kids. It’s too complicated.”
He couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against the end of her nose. “Circumstances have changed since then.”
She wasn’t trying to push him away, but she wasn’t pulling him closer, either. She stood very still, her face pale, her pulse fluttering visibly in her throat. “You’re right,” she conceded. “Now there are four kids who can be hurt if you and I try something foolish and then make a mess of it. I can’t be responsible for four kids, Mark. It’s taking all the courage I have just to keep the boys.”
“I take full responsibility for my girls. But there’s no reason any of the children should be hurt, as long as you and I are mature and discreet. I happen to think we have a lot to offer all of them, you and I. The boys need a man’s presence in their life, and my girls were delighted to have someone around to paint their fingernails.”
Miranda’s breathing had taken on a slight gasping sound, as though she were having trouble getting air. “I can’t do this now,” she whispered. “It’s just too much.”
He wanted to argue—but he couldn’t stand seeing her looking so distressed. With a gusty sigh of regret, he conceded defeat—for now. “I’m not going to push you into something you aren’t ready for,” he promised. “But could I ask you one question?”
She eyed him warily. “What?”
“Are my girls the only reason you’re so reluctant to get involved with me?”
“They’re…the biggest reason,” she admitted after a moment. “They’re great kids, and I am terrified of doing anything that would be detrimental to them.”
“And the other reasons?” he prodded, sensing there was more.
She shrugged somewhat helplessly. “I’ve never wanted to get too involved with anyone. I like being on my own, answerable to no one. I like making my own decisions, s
etting my own hours, making my own plans.”
“You’re thinking of your parents. Surely you know I’m nothing like your domineering father. I want an equal partner in my life, Miranda, not a submissive companion.” He wanted what he had seen between Shane and Kelly—and he knew now that he wanted it with Miranda.
“You’re nothing like my father,” she admitted after a brief hesitation. “You’re a genuinely good man, Mark. I think you would give me the shirt off your back, if I asked you to. I’ve never met anyone more generous or unselfish or kindhearted.”
He scowled and dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m not a freaking saint, Miranda.”
“Maybe not a saint, but you do seem to specialize in taking care of people. When you think someone needs your help, you would do anything for him—or her.”
Comprehension slammed into him with the force of a blow to his head. “You think I see you as some sort of charity case?” he asked incredulously.
“I didn’t say that, exactly…”
He swore beneath his breath, and though she looked surprised by his uncharacteristic language, he didn’t bother to apologize. He was the one who was annoyed now. Actually “annoyed” wasn’t a strong enough word.
“I really don’t appreciate you acting as though I’m an idiot,” he snapped. “I’m not a giant sucker who falls for any hard-luck story, and I don’t have a superhero complex. I have no compulsion to rush to the rescue of every damsel in distress I see.”
“I didn’t—”
He was on a roll now, and he didn’t give her a chance to explain. “Yes, I made a mistake when I married Brooke for all the wrong reasons. I was young and infatuated, and I misjudged my feelings for her, and the kind of person she was. I don’t regret that mistake too badly, because I have my daughters as a result of that marriage. But I’m thirty years old now, and I would like to think I’ve learned a few things about life—and about myself—since then.”
“Still—”
He wasn’t quite finished. “If you’ll remember, you weren’t in any sort of a fix when I asked you out to dinner. You were cruising along very well financially and professionally, totally independent and happy with your life. I admired that immensely. You didn’t seem to need me—or anyone—but I still asked you out. It was something I had been wanting to do for months. Does that sound as though I thought of you as a charity case?”