by Jeanne Allan
“Had none. Now that school has started, things slow down until ski season. The aspen trees turning gold brings people on the weekends, but we seldom have anyone booked during the week.”
“Doesn’t it depress you to haul around old people or disabled people?”
“Our clients might have special needs, but their courage and their refusal to allow themselves to be limited is inspirational. Dealing with small groups, we get to know our clients. Many are repeat customers who become almost like extended family.”
“I never heard how you got started.”
“Cheyenne backed into it. A friend asked for help with elderly grandparents, and that was such a success, word spread, and pretty soon Cheyenne decided there was a need for specialized tours for special people and special needs. She quit teaching and talked me into starting C and A Enterprises with her.
“We don’t deal solely with physically challenged people. Sometimes it’s elderly tourists who want to get out and do things, but at a slower pace, or parents who want trips geared to their children’s needs. Basically we do small, personalized tours for family groups. It’s fun to share the history and the wildlife of the area with tourists. Before Cheyenne’s marriage I only worked during school holidays. We haven’t figured out our new division of labor.”
“I’ve heard you take clients to the Double Nickel.”
“For the Western experience. Worth charms them and Mom feeds them.”
“You’re welcome to bring them to my place.”
Ranch-type tours normally took place during the summer. By next summer there would be no question of Allie carting clients to Zane’s ranch. She’d have left him long before that.
Pulling up in front of the St. Christopher Hotel, Allie said, “Right on time, and there’s the welcoming party.” Hannah, who stood with Buck Peters, enthusiastically waved.
Allie waved back, then handed her car keys to the bellman. Walking around her SUV, she joined the group on the sidewalk. From her perch in her father’s arms, Hannah leaned toward Allie, her mouth puckered. Allie laughed and delivered the expected kiss. Hannah practically leaped from Zane’s arms to Allie’s.
Zane frowned. “She’s too heavy for you.”
“She’s fine.” Allie smiled at Zane’s father who gave her a hearty hug and kiss. “Did you have a good time last night?”
“Me and Davy played. Davy’s mommy is playing with angels like my mommy. So is his daddy. Davy has a new mommy. I didn’t know kids can get new mommies.”
Hannah chattered nonstop as Allie carried her through the three-story atrium lobby. The last rays of the sinking sun reached through the stained-glass ceiling to set the little girl’s red hair aglow.
Allie stopped short inside the entrance to The Gilded Lily, St. Chris’s ultraelegant dining room. She’d expected to see Zane’s parents, her mom, Worth, Greeley and Davy. She hadn’t expected to see Cheyenne and Thomas.
“What are you two doing here?”
Thomas stood and kissed Allie’s cheek. “Knowing your sister, you have to ask?” Extending his hand to Zane, he said, “Thomas Steele. It appears we’re brothers-in-law.”
Allie looked past them to her older sister. “Let me guess. You thought if you stayed away the whole two weeks of your honeymoon, I’d mess up things at the tour agency so badly, we’d have to declare bankruptcy.”
“Don’t be silly,” Cheyenne said, her color high as she embraced her sister. “I wanted to congratulate the bride and groom.” She edged Allie away from the others.
Allie raised an eyebrow. “Congratulate? Or interrogate? Worried about what you started when you invited Zane to your wedding?”
Cheyenne slid a glance over the child hanging around Allie’s neck. “I won’t be if you tell me how much in love you are.”
“A little worry is good for the soul, isn’t it?”
Cheyenne drew in a sharp breath. “I knew it. I told Thomas there was something wrong about this hasty business. Allie, what have you done? We tried to get back before the wedding, but we couldn’t make it.”
“You couldn’t have stopped me.”
“Stopped you from what?” Zane asked, reaching for his daughter. “Allie’s held you long enough, honey. You’re a big girl. You can get down.” He set Hannah on the floor and she trotted off. Zane looked at Allie, waiting for her answer.
Cheyenne hooked her arm in his. “From wearing blue jeans to her wedding. Honestly, Zane, how could you let her?”
He grinned. “Honestly, Cheyenne, for all I cared, she could have worn a horse blanket.”
Greeley sat on one side of him, Cheyenne sat on the other. They’d taken turns subtly pumping him about his feelings for Allie. From time to time they’d slipped in little comments that could be taken as threats to his well-being if he treated their sister badly again. Zane didn’t mind playing their game. Not as long as Allie sat across the table where he could look at her.
He liked looking at his wife. Liked calling her his wife.
Which was apparently more than Cheyenne did. She’d lied about what she and Allie were talking about. They’d been discussing Allie’s marriage to him. Allie had sounded very positive that Cheyenne couldn’t have stopped her.
Contentment settled over him. Once Allie had decided to go through with the wedding, she’d never looked back. He certainly had no complaints about his wedding night His body tightened pleasantly. He looked forward to repeating the experience. How soon could they leave?
She looked beautiful, laughing with her brother and Thomas Steele. If Zane hadn’t seen the way Steele looked at Cheyenne, Zane might be tempted to punch his new brother-in-law in the nose.
Hannah sat sleepily on Allie’s lap. His daughter had glued herself to Allie, and Allie had waved off his repeated offers to take Hannah. Listening to Worth, Allie absently smoothed down Hannah’s unruly curls and lightly kissed the top of her head. Hannah turned up her face to beam a smile at Allie. Zane’s throat constricted. His daughter and his wife. Allie wouldn’t leave him after a month. They were a family now.
Hannah’s head rested against Allie’s breasts. They fit perfectly into his hands. He’d like to wrap his hands around them right now. He remembered the feel of them. As silky smooth as the light purple dress Allie wore. He’d touched her back to guide her into the restaurant. She hadn’t needed guiding, but he liked touching her. The dress shimmered in the light and stretched across her breasts as Allie shifted.
He wanted to go home. To bed.
Allie’s gaze met his and bright pink edged her cheeks. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking. She glanced over his shoulder and her face turned wary.
Vern Taylor’s voice boomed out before Zane could turn. “Ruthie said you were here.” Vern acknowledged Zane’s parents, then said to Zane, “I got somebody in Belly’s for you to meet.”
Zane considered refusing, but knew his ex-in-laws would think nothing of creating a scene in one of Aspen’s most exclusive hotels. Excusing himself, he left the table and followed Taylor into the bar room named over a hundred years ago for “Belly” Smith, an early miner in the area.
Edie Taylor sat on a stool at the Art Nouveau bar imported from France. Her ugly green pants outfit clashed with the saloon’s red-and-white wallpaper. Occupied with patting her dyed black hair and primping in front of the huge mirror behind the carved bar, Edie didn’t see Zane until he walked up behind her.
She flashed him a look of malicious triumph when he greeted her. “I want you to meet someone.” Edie’s redpainted mouth curved in a caricature of a smile. “This is Sean Doyle.”
The unexpected blow slammed into Zane with the force of a gigantic wrecking ball. There could only be one reason for Edie and Vern to be with Doyle. They knew. Recognizing the calamitous consequences of their knowledge, Zane forced all expression from his face and held out his hand. “Doyle. I’m Zane Peters.” Damn Vern and Edie. Damn Kim. He hadn’t believed her. Hadn’t wanted to believe her.
Doyle briefly shook Zane’s h
and, and muttered something. His gaze slid past Zane to dart around the room. The other patrons of Belly’s pretended they didn’t recognize the TV star.
Edie watched Zane with gloating eyes. “You know who Sean is, don’t you?” Edie asked archly. She’d guessed he knew.
Zane had seen the situation comedy only once, but he had no trouble recognizing the man who starred in it. Not with that curly red hair. “I’ve seen him on television.”
“Sean was a friend of Kim’s. A very good friend.” Edie drank a long swallow of her beer, dragging out the moment. “He’s Hannah’s father.”
Zane thought he’d prepared himself. Now he realized nothing could prepare a man for having his worst nightmare brought to life. Unthinkable fears gripped him, and he clenched his fists, fighting for control. “That’s a hell of a sick joke, Edie. We both know I’m Hannah’s father.” He barely recognized the strained voice as his own.
“Do we?” Edie asked in a nasty voice. “Tell him what you told us, Sean.”
“It’s true, Peters. Kimmie’s kid is mine, and I want her.”
“Hannah is my daughter,” Zane said, breathing heavily. “I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish by coming here with such an obscene lie, Doyle, but if you spread that damned lie around, I’m going to sue you for slander or libel or whatever the hell it is. It won’t do your career much good. As for you—” Zane glared at Edie and Vern “—what kind of lousy parents are you? Telling lies and blackening your daughter’s name. You ought to think about what’s best for your granddaughter.”
“Kim’s dead. Nothing can hurt her now,” Vern said.
“What’s best for a kid,” Edie added, “is having her real father.”
“I’m her real father,” Zane said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t be so all-fired sure of yourself,” Edie said smugly.
Zane looked at his former mother-in-law. “What do you want?”
“I want what’s right for Hannah.” The sly triumph in her eyes made a mockery of her virtuous claim.
“How much money do you want?”
Edie assumed an air of injured innocence. “You can’t buy my baby. The court will take the kid from you and give her to her rightful father.”
“We’re not fighting over Hannah in court and we’re not dragging her mother’s name through the mud. Hannah is mine.” Zane turned to the actor who’d sat silently through Edie’s and Zane’s battle of words. “Damn it, Doyle. You can’t do this to a child. It’s inhuman. If you had any feeling at all for Kim, you’d forget this whole thing.”
The man drew wet circles on the bar. “When she was pregnant, Kimmie told me the kid was mine. Said she wanted me to raise it.”
Rage choked Zane, rendering him incapable of speech. He fought the anger. He couldn’t give in to it. Not now. “Hannah’s four. If Kim told you Hannah was your child, why wait until now to speak up? Because it’s a lie, that’s why.”
The actor met Zane’s gaze in the mirror, then dropped his eyes to the drink in front of him. “I was married. Have a couple of boys. When Kimmie told me she was pregnant... I knew my wife would make a big stink. Divorce me. In the process, gouging me for every penny she could, and causing a big scandal.” He picked up his drink, adding glumly. “She’s doing it anyway. Took the kids. Just because of some floozy out in California.” He took a drink of beer. “I can’t help it if women throw themselves at me. It’s not like I’m out looking for them.”
Another time the actor’s aggrieved tone of voice might have amused Zane. Not now. “I don’t give a damn about your marital troubles, Doyle. Hannah is not your daughter. She’s mine. You’re not taking her away from me.”
“Sorry, Peters. I know how you feel, but the kid is mine. To tell the truth, I kind of forgot about her, but when I ran into Kimmie’s folks at the bar where Kimmie used to work and told them I was sorry to hear about Kimmie, well, one thing led to another, and I told them about the kid being mine. They’re right. I owe it to Kimmie to own up to my responsibility.” He glanced at Zane’s angry face and gulped a large swallow of beer. “I mean, she is my kid I’m just doing what’s right.”
“Right for whom? An innocent child? A woman who’s dead and can’t defend her name? Or for a couple of mercenary people who see you as their gravy train?”
“Right for the kid. And for Kimmie,” Doyle said.
“The hell you are.” Talking to these three was a waste of time. Zane pivoted on his heel and turned to stone. Allie stood two feet away, a look of horror frozen on her face. “What do you want?” he snarled.
She looked from Zane to the Taylors and Doyle before her gaze returned to him. “Hannah’s tired. I came to see if you’re ready to leave.”
“I’m ready to get the hell out of here,” he said savagely and followed Allie back to The Gilded Lily where his daughter waited.
Sitting in the darkened living room, Allie watched Zane walk down the hall. The front door quietly opened and closed. The sound of footsteps stayed on the front porch. Pacing back and forth the length of the wooden porch.
He hadn’t said a word to her as he’d followed her from Belly’s back to the dining room. In the Gilded Lily, Zane had skillfully played the part of a man with nothing on his mind but saying goodbye to his relatives and taking his daughter home.
He’d said nothing during the quick stop at Allie’s condo beyond asking for directions as he carried Allie’s things to the car. Allie couldn’t ask questions in front of Hannah.
The little girl fell asleep within minutes of leaving the lights of Aspen. Zane had slumped down in his seat and pulled his hat over his eyes. Discouraging conversation of any kind. Allie eventually turned the radio on low for company.
Back at his house, Zane talked and laughed with Hannah as they went through their nighttime rituals. Outwardly everything appeared normal. If Allie hadn’t walked into Belly’s when she did, she never would have suspected there was a thing wrong in Zane’s world.
He would have shut her out. The way he was trying to shut her out now.
Not that she wanted to get involved. She’d heard enough to guess Sean Doyle had claimed he was Hannah’s father. Why the television actor would say something so ludicrous defied comprehension.
Poor Hannah. Losing a mother hurt a child in so many ways, even if, as Allie suspected, Kim hadn’t been much of a mother. How could she be with parents like hers? Beau hadn’t been much of a father, but Mary Lassiter, with her father’s help, had given her children the best home life she could.
Hannah had suffered more than enough. Marrying Zane for revenge didn’t mean Allie couldn’t help his daughter. And if helping Hannah meant interfering in Zane’s business, then Allie would interfere. She half smiled. Cheyenne’s meddling must be contagious.
Moonie came down the hall, restless in a house strange to him. Allie doubted he needed to go out again, but putting him out gave her an excuse to join Zane.
The mountains loomed dark against the night sky. Zane stood at the edge of the porch, his hands braced on the wooden railing, his head bowed. Moonie descended the porch steps and ambled across the yard toward a clump of high grass. Allie walked to Zane’s side. “I brought out your jacket. These September nights are starting to get a little chilly.” When he didn’t reply, she draped his blue denim jacket over his shoulders.
After a minute, he shoved his arms into the sleeves. “Go to bed, Allie.”
His bleak voice jolted her. And started a new train of thought. Until tonight, had Zane been ignorant of the fact, even though the rest of the valley knew, that his wife had played musical beds? The one betrayed was always the last to know. Satisfaction flowed over her. Let Zane see how he liked hearing that someone he trusted had slept with another person.
Rumor had Kim Taylor sleeping with any number of men. Zane and Sean Doyle ought to be commiserating with each other, not at each other’s throats. The more Allie thought about it, the odder it seemed that the actor should claim to be Hannah’s father. “I
don’t understand why Sean Doyle said he’s Hannah’s father.”
“Did you see his hair?”
The abrupt question gave her pause. “Yes, but I—”
“Red and curly. Like Hannah’s.”
Allie frowned. Zane couldn’t possibly be taking the actor’s claim seriously. “Lots of people have red hair. Kim had red, curly hair. Not the exact same shade as Hannah’s, but that’s not unusual.”
“Kim had light brown hair, straight as a string. The color and the curls came from the beauty shop.”
“So there’s red hair somewhere else in her family. Or in yours. Who knows why red hair pops out now and again? A lot of people have blond hair, but I don’t think any of them could be a long, lost father of mine.”
“Damn Kim.” He beat his fist on the porch railing. “What did I ever do to her that she’d trick me that way? When she was pregnant I married her. I never questioned Hannah’s paternity. I never believed—” His cut-off sentence hovered in the night air.
“You think it’s true,” Allie said in disbelief. “You actually believe he’s Hannah’s father.”
Zane picked up a piece of gravel from the porch and hurled it across the yard. “I know he is.”
Allie wrestled her jaw back into place. “That man isn’t Hannah’s father. How could you believe for one second such a ridiculous idea?”
“Kim told me he was.”
CHAPTER SIX
“You didn’t make Kim pregnant?” Allie blurted out the first thought which entered her head. “You didn’t have to marry her.”
“That’s beside the point,” Zane said in a clipped voice.
“Not to me. You dumped me for a woman who wasn’t carrying your baby.” Common sense asserted itself. “Except, of course, she was. Why do you suppose she lied?”
“I tried to make Kim happy. I gave her everything I could. I couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She wanted desperately to be loved, and I couldn’t love her. I tried, but I couldn’t. It was my fault. Kim wasn’t a bad person. She just needed so much, and I couldn’t give her what she needed. Then Hannah was born. I was in the delivery room. I took one look at her red, squalling face and tiny, perfect toes...” He stopped.