by Linda Warren
“I have to guard the Townsends’ interests.”
She shrugged impatiently. “By all means.”
He called the Townsends and explained the situation. When he’d hung up, he said, “I have to check out the lab. Make some inquiries. You understand?”
“Sure, no problem.” She sat down and with one hand gathered her hair over her shoulder in a quick smooth movement.
He’d expected her to leave, but then she never did what he expected. Picking up the phone, he called his law firm in New York and set the wheels of inquiry in motion.
They waited in silence. Matthew twisted in his chair, watching her. She sat perfectly still, her eyes unblinking, unwavering. All that intensity focused on him made him edgy. He almost felt seventeen again, a confusing condition he hadn’t liked then and liked even less now.
He cleared his throat. “This could take a while.”
“I have all the time in the world, Mr. Sloan, Jr.” Her tone was faintly mocking, as if she knew something he didn’t.
“We’re going to have to do something about that.”
“About what?”
“My name. Mr. Sloan, Jr., is getting a little tiresome.”
“It is your name, isn’t it?”
He knew she was teasing him, baiting him just a little. “Yes, but I prefer Matthew.”
“Matthew.” She said his name with a warm sweetness. He could almost taste the sound. “Okay, I’ll call you Matthew.” She smiled a tantalizing smile that charged his senses. That smile was everything he’d known it would be—dazzling, beguiling, mysterious. Her face relaxed and the curve of her mouth softened. Softened so temptingly that all he could think about was touching it with his own and…
He moved restlessly in his chair. “And if it’s okay, I’ll call you C.J.”
“Sure,” she replied, a look of faint amusement on her face.
Was she flirting with him? God, he was in big trouble if he had to ask himself that. He had experienced flirting many times, but with C.J. it was different. She had a naïveté about her that threw him completely off guard.
Suddenly her eyes darkened. “You think I’m crazy for turning down a million dollars and offering to give back the land, don’t you?”
He blinked, hardly able to believe she’d sunk her pride enough to ask the question. It was the first chink in that wall he had noticed the first day he’d met her. He wanted to give her an honest answer, but couldn’t. He wasn’t her attorney. “I really can’t say.”
Her brow furrowed. “Knowing who I am is much more important to me. You’ve had loving parents all your life. You don’t know that…that emptiness. Wondering if the lady at the grocer’s is your mother or the man sitting next to you in church is your father. There’s no worse feeling than not knowing.”
The despair in her voice tied his stomach in knots. “I can only imagine.”
She threw up her hands. “This whole thing is bizarre. It doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t make sense that Victoria Townsend would leave me a thousand acres of Cober land. That one-hundred-acre tract Pete and Harry own in the middle of Cober property has been a thorn in their side for years.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair. “Exactly how did the Watsons end up with that land?” Growing up in Coberville, he had heard the story, but he wondered how much he’d heard was true.
“It goes back over a hundred years. Daniel Watson helped Jeremiah Cober settle Coberville. They built the town together, but Jeremiah was the one with money and power. Daniel had skills and brawn, but he liked to drink and gamble and he lost everything he’d acquired.”
She paused, winding a strand of hair around her finger. “Down on his luck and with only a pair of mules to his name, Daniel invited Jeremiah to a poker game. Jeremiah agreed because he wanted those mules. As the night went on, so did the drinking. It was finally Daniel’s night. Jeremiah was losing big and eventually he had to deed over a hundred acres to settle his debt. When Jeremiah sobered up, he was furious and wanted the land back, but Daniel refused. He knew it was his last chance to have anything. He changed his way of life, got married and settled on the land. The Cobers tried for years to buy back those hundred acres, but the Watsons were there to stay. That’s what doesn’t make sense. Why would Victoria add to the tract? Cobers must be turning over in their graves.”
“It does seem odd,” he mused, hearing the pride in her voice when she talked about Daniel Watson. She might not be a Watson by birth, but her loyalty was with them. He wondered if the story had any relevance to the present situation between C.J. and the Townsends.
“So you see, I feel Victoria had something else in mind.”
At his confused look she explained. “The land and money give me the power to force the truth. Victoria knew the Townsends would do anything to get the land back—even take a blood test.”
So that was how she’d come to her decision, he thought. She was betting everything to discover her identity. Nothing else was important to her, not land or money.
The phone rang, and he picked up the receiver immediately. “Yes? Oh, Fred… When can you get it fixed? Not till Friday? I need my truck…. Yes, I know I can walk to the office, but I do go other places. Just fix it.
“That was Fred at the garage,” he told her. “He’s working on my dad’s truck. It’s like dealing with Goober of Mayberry.”
An understanding flash of humor crossed her face.
The phone rang again and Matthew wished Miss Emma would answer it, but this was her beauty-shop morning and she wasn’t in yet.
“Excuse me,” he said, and picked up the receiver again.
“Hello. Yes. Okay, Tom. Fax me what you have. Yes, we have a fax machine in this one-horse town. The number is the same as the office phone, and mind your p’s and q’s. You’re talking about my hometown.”
He was smiling as he hung up, and she thought the smile changed his whole appearance. It softened the lines around his mouth and brought out the warmth in his dark eyes. She felt the flutter in her stomach again.
“My firm didn’t find out a whole lot, but the lab seems reputable and Dr. Ryder has a stellar reputation.”
“I told you that.”
His smile broadened. “So you did.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Matthew’s smile lingered as his gaze traveled over her lovely features, dark hair, smooth skin, full inviting lips. The smile left his face as a feeling of desire stirred deep in his belly. A desire that had nothing to do with labs or blood tests. A desire he shouldn’t feel for a woman who was on the opposing side.
At his lazy stare the flutter in C.J.’s stomach became almost unbearable. His eyes were so dark and warm, and when he looked at her like that, his gaze sliding over her features so slowly, so thoroughly, it made her skin ache for his touch. C.J. was shocked by the direction her mind had taken. He was working for the Townsends, she had to remind herself—not to mention her own suspicions about him. She had to get her emotions under control.
Matthew was the first to look away. “When do you want to do this?” he asked, his voice all business now.
Realizing he was waiting for an answer, she said quickly, “As soon as possible.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
He called the lab and spoke to someone, obviously a receptionist. Dr. Ryder was out of town and wouldn’t be back until Thursday. Matthew scheduled the appointments and hung up.
“Your blood test is at ten on Thursday and the Townsends’ are at one,” he told her. “I’ve made an appointment to see Dr. Ryder at nine-thirty to make sure he’s aware of the situation and what we want done.”
“Fine,” she said, getting to her feet. “Since your truck is out of commission,” she said hesitantly, “and we have to be there about the same time, would it be unethical if we rode together?”
Matthew frowned, complete surprise on his face. “Are you offering me a ride?”
Was she? C.J. didn’t know what she was doing. One minute the thought crossed her mind; the next she heard the words coming out of her mouth. It was dangerous, her head told her, but her heart was saying something else.
Her eyes caught his. “Yes,” she heard herself say.
An invitation was the last thing he’d expected, but spending time with her was too tempting to refuse. Besides, he didn’t see anything unethical about it.
As he opened his mouth to speak, she added, “That is, if you don’t mind riding in a four-wheel-drive truck.”
He moved around his desk and toward her. “I think I can handle it,” he murmured. “Thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, his nearness causing her pulse to pound in her ears. “I’ll pick you up at eight. We’ll take the shortcut on 1292. That should give us enough time.”
“Sounds great. See you Thursday.”
She nodded and left the office.
Matthew rubbed his temples. He should have thought this over a little more. The Townsends weren’t going to be pleased about his riding into Austin with C. J. Doe. But when he was with her, he couldn’t seem to remember which side he was supposed to be on. He wondered, not for the first time, if she had that effect on all men—his dad, too. This had definitely never happened to him before. Nothing ever got in the way of his cases. He’d call later and cancel, he decided. He’d borrow his mother’s car for the day.
C.J. SAT IN HER TRUCK. Two women walked by, whispered, pointed at her. C.J. barely noticed. What had made her do such a stupid thing, offering him a ride like that? He was the Townsends’ lawyer. But he was also Matt’s son.
One hand hit the steering wheel in anger. Admit it, she told herself. Admit what you’re really feeling. She was attracted to Matthew, and it frightened her to death. When he’d come out to the house that first day, Pete had teased her about staring at him. She had stared for obvious reasons, but she’d also been looking for a resemblance to herself. There, it was out in the open, playing havoc with her mind—forcing her to face the possibility. They could be related. She closed her eyes, feeling utterly miserable.
C.J. had faced the same fear ever since she’d found out the difference between boys and girls. She didn’t know who she was, so there could be no involvement with any man in Coberville. Why had she offered Matthew a ride? It was insane. When she looked at him, though, she saw no resemblance, no familiar characteristics. Something inside her was driving her on. She had to get rid of the doubts, and the only way to do that was to spend time with him, to ask questions.
Deep down she sensed that they weren’t related, but she had to know. Just as she had to know if she was a Townsend. With both hands she gripped her throbbing head. Would she ever learn the truth? Would the doubts ever end?
THE PHONE RANG in a seedy apartment on the south side of Austin. “Yeah?” Dale Weeks bellowed into the receiver.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“Already?”
“Yes. C. J. Doe will be traveling to Austin for a ten-o’clock appointment on Thursday. I want you to ensure that she doesn’t make it.”
“Are you saying you want me to kill her?”
“Make it look like an accident.”
“This’ll cost you fifty big ones.”
“I’ll get twenty-five to you tonight. You’ll get the other half when the job’s done.”
“What is it about this girl that’s got you so scared? There’s nothing she—”
“I want her dead, Weeks,” an impatient voice interrupted. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Sure thing. Consider it done.”
PROMPTLY AT EIGHT O’CLOCK Thursday morning, C.J. drove up to the front of Matthew’s house. She studied the white board house with its long porch, white columns and black shutters. Perfect. The picture-perfect yard with neat flower beds and white picket fence. Like a scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting. What did it feel like to be raised in a perfect home with two loving parents? She could only imagine.
Matthew emerged from the front door in a dark suit and crisp white shirt. As his long confident strides brought him closer, her heart thudded noisily, despite her attempts to suppress any awareness of him.
She glanced down at the black slacks, vest and emerald-green blouse she’d chosen to wear. Damn. She should have worn her usual jeans. He was going to get the wrong impression. She was flirting with the enemy and that meant danger. Danger to her heart.
On his way to the truck Matthew scolded himself for not calling her to cancel. He’d been so busy and somehow it had slipped his mind. Or maybe it had slipped his mind on purpose, a little voice whispered. Now there was nothing he could do but enjoy the ride. He noted she was driving a different truck from the one he’d seen her in the other day. This one was also white, but newer.
He climbed into the cab and gave her a nod. Buckling his seat belt, he noticed her clothes, saw that there was even a green ribbon entwined in the French braid hanging down her back. Her fresh radiance reached out to him.
He shifted uncomfortably and took in the blue interior and leather seats. “Nice truck,” he commented.
“Thanks,” she answered, pulling away from the curb.
“This is my truck. We use Pete’s to haul the big trailer.”
They stopped for a blinking red light at the intersection. Little traffic was on the road at this hour, so she drove on.
“This is a big day,” Matthew said, attempting conversation.
She turned onto County Road 1292. “It’ll be an even bigger day when the test results are in.”
“I suppose,” he murmured, and they didn’t speak again for several minutes.
A soft melody on the radio filled the silence. He watched her hands on the steering wheel. She looked so fragile, yet he knew she was strong. That was evident from the way she’d controlled her horse the other day. Fragility and strength wrapped in a charming package. A very potent combination.
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to close this case and get back to New York.”
He blinked in momentary confusion. “Uh, yes, I can’t stay away too much longer.”
“Your dad was so proud of you. He talked about your cases all the time.”
He stared at her, his eyebrows drawing together. “Dad talked to you about me?”
She met his startled gaze for a second. “Yes, he enjoyed your big victories. Like that eighty-four-year-old man you got off for killing his cancer-ridden wife.”
“I didn’t exactly get him off. He received a ten-year probated sentence and is under psychiatric care.”
“But he’s not in prison with hardened criminals.”
“No,” Matthew answered absently, feeling an ache in his chest. Why had his father shared so much with C.J.? He now knew about the money for her education and his dad’s involvement. But their association went beyond that. They’d obviously shared everyday events. Yet, despite the many conversations he’d had with his father, C.J.’s name had never been mentioned. Why?
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY RODE FOR A WHILE in silence. The road, an old blacktop, led straight into Austin, shortening the trip by at least fifteen minutes. The ride was relatively smooth, except for the occasional pothole.
Matthew turned slightly, resting his arm along the back of the seat, his fingertips about three inches from C.J.’s shoulder. He wanted to find out more about the relationship between her and his father. The only way to do that was to ask questions. He was good at asking questions.
“Tell me about yourself,” he invited, knowing the best place to start was at the beginning. “About your childhood.”
She shot him a glance. “Are you curious about me?”
“Enormously,” he admitted. “I know you were left on the Watsons’ doorstep as a baby and they couldn’t adopt you because of their age, but why didn’t Social Services find you a home?”
Her green eyes held a distant faraway look. “Maggie said that when I was an infant, t
hey were approached by several couples who wanted a baby, but later they were told each one was found unsuitable. Social Services kept looking. When I was old enough to understand, Maggie told me that one day a beautiful woman and a handsome man would come for me. They would be my new parents. I used to watch the road waiting for them. But then I’d hope they’d never come because I didn’t want to leave Pete and Maggie.” The fingers gripping the steering wheel had whitened. “No one ever came. Finally we decided I’d just gotten lost in the system. Pete and Maggie considered it a blessing.”
His heart ached for that little girl waiting for someone to claim her. At least she’d had the Watsons. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What happened to Maggie?” He knew Maggie had died some years ago, but didn’t recall the details.
A shadow of pain darkened her eyes. “She died of cancer when I was twelve.”
“You must have loved her a great deal.”
“Yes, she was the only mother I ever knew.” Her voice and her face held a certain sadness. After a moment she added, “When she died, I was afraid Social Services was going to come and get me and put me in a girls’ home. I told Pete, but he said no one was ever going to take me away. I believed him ’cause Pete never lies to me.” She paused, then said, “When we finally realized Social Services wasn’t interested in me anymore, Pete said we should go down to the courthouse and change my name to Watson. I thought about it, but I decided I didn’t want just a name—not even his. I wanted my real name. I wanted to know whose blood ran through my veins. That was the beginning of my quest to find my parents. I started asking questions. I talked to everyone from the sheriff to every person who had green eyes or black hair. Everything brings me back to the rumors and the Townsends.”
She spoke with a quiet firmness and he had to ask, “How does Pete feel about your decision?”