“Shhh.” Cupping the back of her head, he cradled her face in the hollow of his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Blinking furiously, Haley dragged in a hiccuping breath. “I feel like an idiot. I never cry.”
Not since her mother’s death, anyway. She’d shed all the tears she had in her then. Tonight, though, her emotions were stripped to the bone.
“We’ll get her back,” Luke said gruffly, zeroing in on the cause of her distress with pinpoint accuracy.
She wanted desperately to believe him, but the brutal reality of the situation made a mockery of hope. “You don’t know Del Brio like I do. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Nothing!”
“Del Brio doesn’t know me, either. Whatever it takes, we’ll get Lena back.”
The flat certainty in his voice tilted her head back. Blinking away the teary residue clinging to her lashes, she studied the face so close to hers. Luke stared straight ahead, his blue eyes unblinking but fierce. Stubble shadowed his cheeks and chin and made the white scars on his temple stand out in stark relief.
The evidence of his pain distracted her momentarily from her all-consuming fear for her baby. Oh, God, what had really happened in that jungle in Central America? How much had Luke suffered? Her fingers trembling, she lifted a hand to trace the spidery scars.
Luke sensed the movement and abruptly brought his head around to meet it. In the process, his lips grazed her palm.
They both went still, each waiting for the other to pull away. His mouth was hot and damp under her palm. Her skin burned where he touched it. Seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness, each one seeming to take months and then years with it, until Haley was at the Saddlebag again, aching for this man with all the passion she’d kept bottled up inside her for so long.
No, not this man. She hadn’t really known the Luke Callaghan she’d given herself to that night, any more than he’d known her. With all their secrets, they were strangers then. They were strangers now.
It took everything Luke had to pull away. He didn’t trust this woman, and sure as hell couldn’t trust the desire that knotted his belly and almost made him forget who she was. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to release her. Not yet. Not while her tears still dampened his neck and tension held her in a tight coil.
“You’ve got to let it go and get some rest, Haley.”
“I wish I could,” she murmured, her breath a ragged sigh against his neck.
“Blank your mind for a few moments. Just wipe away every thought.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he countered, recalling the technique that had saved his sanity during his weeks as a POW. “Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t paint any pictures in your mind. Just imagine a blank canvas. A big, white, empty space.”
She tried too hard. Her lashes feathering his neck, she scrunched her eyes shut. He felt her tension and frustration as she searched for the emptiness.
“Relax, Haley.” He lowered his voice to a slow, hypnotic murmur and began to stroke her hair. “Just relax. Wrap yourself in a haze. A soft, gray haze.”
“Like a London fog.”
“Like a London fog, only warmer. It covers everything. Smooths all the jagged edges. Dulls the sharpest fears. Feel how soft it is? How warm it is?”
She gave a little grunt, wanting to be convinced but not quite there yet. Luke continued the unhurried stroke, smoothing her hair, calming her with his touch the way he’d calm a skittish colt.
“Let the haze surround you. Drift through you. There’s nothing there. Nothing but a cloud of cotton.”
Silence dropped over them. Moments went by. Slowly, so slowly, she slipped into that half state between worry and mindlessness. Luke felt her muscles slacken, then a little jerk as she resisted dropping into sleep.
“It’s okay, Haley. Let yourself go. You’re warm and safe and secure.”
He murmured the words without thinking. Not until she gave a little moan and curled against him did he realize how desperately she must have craved both security and safety all these years.
With a silent curse, Luke set out to lull her back to sleep. Planting his boots on the polished marble coffee table, he eased down until his head hit the sofa back and did his damndest to ignore the press of full, rounded breasts against his chest.
Haley drifted awake to the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. She let the aroma tease her groggy senses for long moments before prying her eyes open. They felt dry and scratchy, the way eyes always did after a bout of tears.
After all the years and months of hiding her every thought and emotion, she couldn’t believe she’d dissolved into such a pitiful bundle of incoherence last night. Or that she’d fallen asleep in Luke’s arms.
At a loss to explain either his actions or her own, she tossed back the blanket and swung her stockinged feet to the floor. A quick glance at the cheap watch she’d worn in her Daisy Parker persona showed it was just past 5:00 a.m.
Panic darted through her at the thought that she might have slept through another call from Del Brio, but logic quickly squelched the thought. Either the buzz of the phone or Luke himself would have awakened her.
Pushing off the couch, she listened intently. She didn’t hear any sounds. She assumed Luke was in the kitchen brewing the coffee. Before she faced him again, she needed to splash some cold water on her face.
Her stockinged feet made no sound as she mounted the curving oak staircase to the second floor. Open doors gave her glimpses into the rooms on both sides of the hall. Like the downstairs rooms, they were decorated with an eclectic mix of priceless antiques, comfortable furnishings and the best of Texas. One guest bedroom sported a canopy bed. Another, a huge four-poster that had to have come across Texas in a covered wagon.
Avoiding the master bedroom suite at the end of the hall, she made liberal use of the amenities in the well-stocked guest bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she headed back downstairs, face scrubbed, teeth clean and her bottle-blond hair tangle-free.
As she’d guessed, Luke was in the kitchen. It was a warm, welcoming place, one she remembered well. A beautiful old wrought-iron gate was suspended from chains above the center island, displaying an assortment of antique cast-iron frying pans, speckled tin cookware and a dented, ten-gallon coffeepot that had to have seen duty on the cattle trails. The cabinets were distressed cypress, reminding Haley of the trees that lined the creeks in this part of the country. Their glass fronts displayed an assortment of brightly colored crockery. A rectangular table of the same weathered cypress was set in an alcove surrounded on three sides by shuttered windows.
Luke sat at the table, with a cell phone close at hand and a laptop computer in front of him. Haley couldn’t tell whether he’d slept at all or not, but he’d obviously showered. His cheeks and chin were smooth, and his black hair glistened. He’d changed into a crisp white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up and a freshly laundered pair of jeans.
She made a futile attempt to smooth the wrinkles from her slept-in tank top before she remembered Luke couldn’t see it. As soft as it was, the swish of her hands brushing down her front alerted him to her presence.
“Haley?” he asked sharply.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’m in my socks.”
“I heard the water running upstairs and figured you’d be down soon.”
Neither one of them mentioned the fact that she’d fallen asleep in Luke’s arms last night. He seemed as willing to dance around the topic as Haley was.
“The coffee’s fresh, if you want some,” he told her. “Mrs. Chavez won’t be over to fix breakfast for another couple of hours, but she always leaves the fridge full if you need something to tide you over until then.”
At the mention of breakfast Haley’s stomach sat up and took notice. She’d been so sick with worry over Lena and her father these past few days, the mere thought of food had made her nauseated. Her few hours sleep seemed to have restored her appetite, however. Ta
king advantage of Luke’s invitation, she helped herself to coffee and downed several gulps while she surveyed the contents of the stainless-steel, commercial-grade fridge.
“Good grief! There are enough covered dishes in here to feed everyone in Mission Creek.”
“Yeah, I know,” he drawled. “Teresa is firmly convinced that all I need to regain twenty-twenty vision is rest and plenty of good, healthy food.”
Haley shot him a quick look. “Any chance she’s right?”
“Who knows?” He rolled his shoulders under the white cotton shirt. “The docs don’t have any other advice to offer at this point.”
“Has there been any improvement at all since you came home?”
He hesitated, obviously unwilling to offer false hope to anyone, himself included.
“I’m seeing some shadows, mostly in contrast, They seem to be getting a little less dark and dense. Probably just wishful thinking on my part. See anything that looks good in the fridge?”
Following his deliberate change of subject, she dragged her glance back to the neatly stacked containers. Each lid was labeled, she saw, marked with a thick plastic strip with raised letters so Luke could run his fingers over it and identify the contents.
“How does cinnamon toast and Mexican lasagna sound?”
“Pretty good.”
While the spicy tortilla, cheese and beef casserole heated in the microwave, Haley slathered thick slices of Texas toast with butter, sprinkled on cinnamon and popped them in the toaster oven. Her stomach rumbling in earnest now, she took the coffee carafe to the table to refresh Luke’s cup as well as her own.
She felt awkward, as though they were strangers. Two people whose pasts had crossed and now shared only a single link to the future. Firmly suppressing the panic that fluttered just under her skin each time she though of Lena, she eyed the computer and its array of peripherals spread out in front of Luke.
“What’s all this?”
“I’ve been making lists of what we need to do to get ready for Del Brio’s call.”
It was Haley’s turn to hesitate. She had little experience with physical disabilities and didn’t want to harp on Luke’s, but curiosity compelled her to ask how he could read what was on the computer screen.
“Obviously, I don’t. The computer is specially rigged with raised-letter keys and voice recognition software for data input. It also produces both visual and audio output.”
He tapped a key. A digitized voice filled the kitchen.
“Spence to retrieve ransom from bank. Two million. Unmarked, nonsequential bills. Flynt to attach microdots and scan bills into computer. Tyler to rig explosive in briefcase handle. Obtain spectrascope for—”
“Wait a minute!” Haley exclaimed. “What explosives?”
“—the SIG Sauer. Load high-velocity bullets. Test scope with—”
“Luke, turn that thing off!”
A quick click of a key cut off the electronic recitation. Shaken, Haley gripped her coffee cup with both hands. “What the heck is all this? Why are you making lists that include explosives and high-velocity bullets?”
“You don’t think I intend to just hand the ransom to Del Brio and let him walk away, do you?”
“Yes! No!”
A frown gathered between his brows. “Which is it? What exactly did you have in mind, Haley?”
“Well, I haven’t worked out the exact details yet. I thought maybe you could distract Frank while I got the drop on him.”
“Right.”
The sarcastic drawl raised her hackles.
“Look, I came to you to help me retrieve my baby. Our baby. I didn’t expect you to mount a full-scale military offensive that might get her blown up, for God’s sake!”
Luke started to reply, but cut off whatever he intended to say. His head cocked.
“Something’s burning.”
“Damn! The toast.”
By the time Haley had scraped the black edges off the cinnamon bread and plunked it down on the table, she’d recovered a measure of her poise.
“We need to talk about this,” she said with deliberate calm. “I appreciate that you feel the need to take an active role in Lena’s recovery, but I won’t let you endanger her.”
“You won’t, huh?”
Thrusting out his long legs, he sprawled back in his chair and fixed his gaze on her face. Although she knew he couldn’t see her, Haley felt the full force of that penetrating stare.
“Seems to me you forfeited your rights to dictate what I can and can’t do for my child when you abandoned her.”
The warm, welcoming kitchen abruptly lost its glow.
“I’ll repeat myself just one more time,” Haley said, gritting her teeth. “I did not abandon her. I had to place Lena in safekeeping while I went undercover for the FBI. I thought you understood.”
With a grimace of self-disgust, he nodded. “I do. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
No, she didn’t. Silence stretched out between them, broken by the sudden ping of the microwave. Luke pushed his chair back at the same time Haley rose.
“I’ll get it,” she muttered, still ruffled by the hostilities that had erupted so unexpectedly between them. Retrieving the casserole from the microwave, she let it steam on the stovetop while she located dishes, napkins and silverware.
“I’m left-handed,” Luke said when she carried two well-filled plates to the table. “If you position the dish with the food at nine o’clock, I can eat without making too much of a mess.”
“Right. Nine o’clock. Careful, it’s hot.”
The clipped reply told Luke she’d yet to forgive him for the attack a few minutes ago. Disgusted with himself for delivering such a swift counter-punch to what he’d interpreted as a lack of confidence in his ability to handle Frank Del Brio, he waited until she’d seated herself to make amends.
“You were right, Haley. I shouldn’t be making lists or plans without consulting you. Nor should you be working up some wild scheme of your own. We’re in this together, with a single goal. We need to work together as a team.”
“Yes, we do.”
Her relief was palpable. Luke felt it clear across the table.
“I called Flynt and Spence and Tyler last night,” he told her. “They should be here within an hour or so. Before they arrive, I’ll fill you in on what I think we can and should do, and you can give me what you know of the way Del Brio operates.”
“That might take a while,” she warned. “I’ve been gathering information on Frank and his cohorts for a year now.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
Eleven
Haley soon discovered that Luke’s idea of team-work and hers differed considerably. He was used to being in charge and making things happen. She’d learned to live by her wits and to operate alone. As a result, they spent an hour at the kitchen table alternately sharing information, brainstorming possible scenarios for the ransom delivery and arguing about the best way to handle Frank Del Brio. They were still at it when Mrs. Chavez arrived.
Startled to find her employer sharing breakfast with a stranger, the housekeeper’s curiosity gave way to openmouthed disbelief when Luke introduced her as the long-dead Haley Mercado.
“No, it cannot be!” She gaped at Haley, then emphatically shook her graying head. “You’re joking with me, Luke.”
“It’s true. I just found out myself last night.”
“But Haley Mercado drowned,” the housekeeper exclaimed. “Right here in our lake.” She turned a fierce frown on the intruder in her kitchen. “They found her body.”
“I don’t know who that poor woman was, but I’m very much alive.”
Unconvinced, Teresa Chavez folded her arms and scowled. “You do not look at all like Haley Mercado.”
“I had cosmetic surgery. Around the eyes and nose, mostly.”
The housekeeper searched her face again, more intently this time. Haley saw disbelief give way to doubt, then to anger. Her scowl deepening, Te
resa glared at Haley.
“My Luke and his friends stood trial. They almost went to prison because of you.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Haley wanted to come home during the trial,” Luke said, surprising her by coming to her defense. “Judge Bridges assured her he’d get us off.”
“Ah, Judge Bridges.” The anger went out of the older woman’s face. “So sad about the judge. And about your mother,” she added, her glancing shifting once again to Haley. “It broke Isadora’s heart when she thought she lost you.”
“It broke my heart to let her think she had. I’m just glad I got to see her before she died.”
The warmhearted housekeeper clucked in distress. “There has been so much death around Mission Creek of late. So much sadness. And now that little child is missing, the one my Luke says is his. Ayyyy, if I should ever meet the woman who walked off and left such a sweet little baby on the golf course, she would hear a thing or two from me, I can tell you that.”
Wincing, Haley prepared once again to shoulder the blame for the scheme the judge had assured her was infallible.
“Haley is the baby’s mother,” Luke said calmly.
Teresa’s jaw dropped. “How can that be?”
He gave an expurgated version of their meeting two years ago and Haley’s subsequent return after Lena’s birth. Clucking her tongue again, the goggle-eyed housekeeper tried to take it all in. She was still trying when the intercom buzzed. Shaking her head, she went to the wall unit and pressed the speaker button.
“It’s Spence, Teresa. Luke wants to see me. Let me in, will you?”
“Yes, yes. We are in the kitchen. Come around to the side door.”
Haley used the few moments it took for Spence Harrison to pull his high-powered SUV up to the kitchen entrance to brace herself for another confrontation. She didn’t know how much Luke had told the hard-edged former prosecutor, but she suspected he’d greet Haley Mercado’s return from the dead with something less than wild enthusiasm.
Sure enough, the look Spence sent her when he entered the kitchen could have sliced through tempered steel. Hooking his thumbs in his belt, he ran a hard eye over the waitress who’d served him and his new wife at the country club.
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