Libby would simply have to put the two of them together and keep her fingers crossed. With any luck, North would distract Jocelyn long enough that, when things settled down, Libby would have the chance, at long last, to make amends with Clay.
Libby knew North would be at home this morning. In fact, Sundays were virtually the only time he did stay at home. As she drove up, he was outside picking up a load of firewood from the side of the house. He hesitated as she pulled up, then headed toward her.
She got out as he approached and said, “The judge didn’t grant Clay bail.”
“Never figured he would.” North bent and glanced through her open car door to the other side of the front seat and said, “Who’s that with you?”
Jocelyn leaned toward the driver’s side, smiled at North and said in her melodious, French-accented voice, “Good morning. I’m Jocelyn Montrose.”
Libby was watching North closely but saw not the slightest flicker of interest in his eyes. She pressed her lips flat. Maybe he needed to see how tall Jocelyn was. Or get a better look at her arresting violet eyes.
“Can we come in for a minute?” she said to her brother.
This time she saw a flicker of annoyance cross his face. Sundays were his day to sit back, put his feet up and relax by himself. But she wasn’t about to let him send her away. “I really need to talk to you.”
He’d never turned her away. And he didn’t now. “Come on in.” He didn’t wait for them, just turned his back and headed for the door with the load of firewood in his arms.
“Maybe I should wait here,” Jocelyn said, eyeing North’s broad, dismissive back.
Libby smiled. She was determined to get the two of them together in the same room. “Please come inside. I’d worry about you sitting out here in the cold. I shouldn’t be long.”
North was setting another log on the crackling fire in the living room by the time Libby and Jocelyn joined him. Libby had always loved North’s house. It was totally masculine and smelled of leather and the mesquite he put on the fire.
The inside walls were composed of chinked logs. Above the stone mantel hung a massive oil painting of longhorns being herded across a deep ravine by cowboys on horseback wearing yellow slickers. The furniture was brown leather, and colorful Navajo rugs lay on the hickory wood floor. The immense wall of windows on the opposite side of the room revealed a stunning view of the snowcapped Grand Tetons in the distance.
When at last North turned to face Jocelyn, Libby kept her fingers crossed that she’d see some sparks. She gritted her teeth when North evidenced absolutely no reaction to the beautiful woman.
Instead he turned to Libby and said, “Do you want to talk in here, or do we need to go to my office?”
“Here is fine,” Libby replied. “Jocelyn is Clay’s late wife’s younger sister. She knows about Kate.”
North grunted, and Libby felt like kicking him. A woman as sophisticated as Jocelyn Montrose wasn’t going to be attracted to a grunting man.
“I wanted to ask you what you know about Niles Taylor,” she said bluntly.
“He’s a Texas oilman.”
“I knew that much,” Libby said with asperity. “Why were you at his party on Saturday?”
“He invited me.”
Libby made a frustrated sound in her throat. “Do you know any reason why Niles would want to cause trouble for Clay?”
“You worry too much about that man,” North replied.
“Answer the question.”
“I think Niles wants to talk Clay out of investigating an oil consortium he set up.”
“Would he resort to blackmail and murder to stop him?” Libby asked.
North’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
“Would he have an innocent girl drug Clay’s drink and then murder her and put them in bed together?” Libby persisted.
“I don’t know,” North said.
“Can’t you make a guess?”
“I’ll ask him the next time I see him,” North said sardonically.
Libby stared at her older brother, knowing that he couldn’t be pushed. She exhaled. She hadn’t gotten much information from him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find out the answers to the questions she’d asked.
She glanced from North to Jocelyn and realized the other woman’s cheeks were flushed. Maybe there was some attraction, and all she needed to do was leave them alone for it to spark to life.
“I could use a cup of coffee,” she said.
“Help yourself,” North said. “It’s in the kitchen.”
Libby couldn’t believe her brother was acting so boorishly in front of company. She’d fix him. She’d leave him alone with Jocelyn while she went for coffee.
“Why don’t you keep Jocelyn entertained while I get the two of us some coffee? Would you like a cup, North?” Libby asked.
This time her brother’s pained expression was all too apparent. “No coffee for me.”
Jocelyn was still standing in the middle of the living room as Libby headed for the kitchen. She almost turned to suggest that Jocelyn make herself comfortable but realized it would probably be better if she let the two of them work things out on their own. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said as she exited the room.
A long hallway and a swinging door separated the living room from the kitchen. Libby held the door open for a moment before letting it swing closed, hoping to hear some conversation in the living room, but it was too far away for voices to carry.
Her brother had nothing resembling a china cup and saucer in the kitchen, only man-sized mugs. Libby picked two of the smaller ones without chips and poured coffee for herself and Jocelyn. She knew Jocelyn liked hers black with sweetener because she’d served her coffee earlier that morning.
Libby was trying to think of some way to postpone her return to the living room, when the swinging door slammed open and Jocelyn strode into the kitchen, her fists clenched, her face flaming and her stormy violet eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I want to leave,” she said, her voice breaking.
“What’s wrong?” Libby asked, alarmed. “Did North—”
“I want to leave,” she repeated, her voice pitifully high-pitched.
An instant later, North shoved his way through the kitchen doorway. Libby was astonished to see that his reddened right cheek bore the clear white imprint of a hand.
She turned on her brother and demanded, “What did you do to her?”
She watched a muscle in North’s jaw flex. He stared at Jocelyn, his eyes narrowed, and said nothing.
Libby turned to Jocelyn and asked, “Are you all right? What did he do to you?”
“I’m fine,” Jocelyn said, her eyes focused on the floor, her chin wobbling. “But I wish to leave.”
Still no explanation from either one of what North had said or done to provoke a woman as self-possessed and dignified as Jocelyn Montrose into slapping his face.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Libby said to her brother. It was clear Jocelyn Montrose wouldn’t care if she never saw North Grayhawk again. Libby tried telling herself it was only a short distance between love and hate. But it was clear that she was going to have to come up with someone else to distract Jocelyn’s attention from Clay.
She put an arm around Jocelyn’s shoulder to lead her away and realized the young woman was still wearing her coat. What on earth had North said or done to raise such a ruckus when Jocelyn hadn’t even taken off her coat?
In the short time they’d been inside, nearly an inch of snow had collected on the ground. Libby’s stomach clenched when she realized the snow was going to obliterate any signs of Kate’s trail in the wilderness.
Libby didn’t ask questions once they were back in the car. She couldn’t believe how wrong things had gone between North and Jocelyn. She’d wanted to make the situation better, not worse.
Jocelyn didn’t speak until Libby stopped the car at her cabin on the edge of North’s spread. “I shouldn’t have slapped hi
m,” she said.
“What happened?” Libby asked.
Jocelyn bit her lip and shook her head. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t…I don’t…”
“Never mind,” Libby said. “Forget I asked. In fact, forget I have a brother named North.”
Jocelyn choked on a laugh. “You’ve been so good to me. I feel so bad about slapping your brother.” She turned to Libby and said, “But he deserved it.”
Libby felt a spurt of guilt. She hadn’t been at all good to Jocelyn. She’d been plotting and planning to get rid of her. “I’m sorry,” Libby said. Maybe she ought to tell the other woman the truth about her own feelings for Clay. Maybe Jocelyn was no more interested in Clay Blackthorne than the man in the moon.
But Jocelyn spoke first.
“I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” Jocelyn said. She hesitated, sighed, then said, “I have feelings for Clay.”
Libby barely managed to hide her despair.
“I’ve loved Clay ever since I first laid eyes on him,” Jocelyn said. “I met him first, before my sister. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t,” Libby said.
Jocelyn nodded and dabbed gracefully at the tears on her cheeks with a lace handkerchief. “But he took one look at Giselle and forgot all about me. They were inseparable. I rarely visited my sister during the years she was married. It was too painful to see him with her. I was jealous, you see.”
Libby nodded, but said nothing. Her throat had swollen so thick it hurt to swallow.
“Then Giselle got cancer. When it was too late, I realized how much precious time I’d lost by being jealous of my sister’s happiness. I spent as much time as I could with her those last months. I never once looked at Clay…or coveted my sister’s husband.”
Jocelyn turned toward Libby and said, “Toward the end, when Giselle knew she didn’t have much time left, she looked at me and whispered, ‘Promise you’ll take care of him for me, Jocelyn. He’s going to be lost. He’ll need you. Stay with him. Love him for me.’ ”
The last words were barely audible.
Libby gripped the steering wheel, afraid to let go, hearing in Giselle’s confession the death knell to her dreams of a life with Clay. “So you’ve been doing what your sister asked,” she said quietly.
Jocelyn nodded. “I’m torn in two. I never told her that I’ve always loved him.”
“She must have known,” Libby murmured.
“Do you think so? I’ve wondered sometimes. I’ve tried to do what she asked. Sometimes I think Clay cares for me. Sometimes I’m not sure. What am I going to do?”
Libby felt like wailing. Here she was acting as a confidante to the woman who was the greatest threat to her own hope of living happily ever after.
Libby was grateful that at least Jocelyn didn’t know the truth about her matchmaking attempt. No wonder Jocelyn had repelled whatever advance North had made.
“I only wish there was something I could do to help Clay,” Jocelyn said, her hands threaded together and clutched tightly in her lap. “I feel so useless. I don’t even have the right clothes for a place like this.”
“You might fit into some of Kate’s things,” Libby said. “She’s tall like you.”
An ache rose unexpectedly in Libby’s chest as she spoke Kate’s name. Where was her daughter? What was happening to her? How was she ever going to find her?
Libby’s cell phone rang and she grabbed for it without looking at the caller ID. “Kate? Is that you?”
She glanced at Jocelyn, her eyes wide, and exclaimed, “Clay? Where are you?…You’re out? How on earth did that happen?…That’s wonderful!”
“Clay’s out of jail?” Jocelyn whispered.
Libby nodded distractedly, then gripped the phone harder as she said, “No, I haven’t heard anything from Kate…What? Where did the caller say she might be?…Of course I’d be willing to bring the dogs. Where is it we’re going?” She glanced at Jocelyn and said, “I’ll be waiting for you at my cabin.”
Libby stuck her cell phone in her pocket, shoved open the car door and headed for the kitchen door.
“What’s going on?” Jocelyn asked, following Libby into the house.
“Clay got an anonymous tip where we might find Kate.”
“Has he called the police?” Jocelyn asked.
“He’s afraid of what the police might do. He wants to look on his own before he contacts them.”
“With you?” Jocelyn said, frowning.
“Tracking is what I do.” Libby stared out the kitchen window at the blowing snow and wondered how much scent would be left for the dogs to follow.
“You’re leaving me behind?”
“You couldn’t keep up,” Libby said bluntly.
Jocelyn turned and leaned forward, her voice excited and earnest. “I’m stronger than you think, Libby. I want to go along. I want to help Clay find his daughter.”
“You’ll slow us down,” Libby insisted.
“Then you can leave me behind on the trail.”
“You might get lost trying to find your way back. You could freeze to death. I’m sorry, but you can’t go.”
“All right,” she said with a disappointed sigh. “I’ll stay behind. At least I’ll be by the phone if someone calls with information about Kate.”
“Thank you. That would be a big help.”
Libby spent a moment feeling sorry for the other woman, who was so out of her element here. But a moment was all she had. She needed to figure out the best way to reach the area Clay had mentioned, and which of her hunting rifles, with their long-distance scopes, she was going to take along.
19
Sarah snapped her cell phone closed and tucked it into her trouser pocket, then held her hands out to the roaring fire in Drew’s fireplace. “The weather service says the wind is near gale force, the temperature is dropping and to expect six to eight inches of snow in the mountains.”
“So are we going, or not?”
Sarah looked at the blizzard raging outside, then met Drew’s gaze and said, “Not right now. It’s too dangerous. We have to wait out the storm.”
“But Kate—”
“We’d have trouble even finding the trail in a whiteout like this,” Sarah said. “Let alone taking off into the wilderness on some wild-goose chase.”
“Did the guy who called you sound like he was sending you off on a wild-goose chase?” Drew asked.
“He sounded rational. That doesn’t mean he was telling the truth. Or that his directions will lead us to Kate. It’s not going to help if we end up having to be rescued ourselves.”
Drew threw a log onto the fire, sending up a hail of sparks. “This sucks.”
“Big-time,” Sarah agreed. “Kate was alive yesterday. We have to presume she’s being kept somewhere safe. I promise you, as soon as the weather breaks even a little, we’ll go.”
“It’s hard not to want to go anyway, blizzard or no blizzard,” Drew said.
“If we can’t see our hands in front of our faces right now, the bad guys can’t, either,” Sarah pointed out.
“Do you need to get home?” Drew asked.
“The kids have orders not to step foot over the threshold today. They’re to do nothing but rest and recuperate.”
Drew smiled wryly. “And you expect them to obey you, after what they did last night?”
“Those were extraordinary circumstances,” Sarah said. “And yes, I do expect my children to obey me. There are consequences when they don’t.”
“Such as?” Drew asked.
“Getting grounded. Losing privileges. Believe me, a week without Metroid for Nate, or without Harry Potter for Ryan, or without the phone for Brooke, is a terrible punishment.”
Drew grinned. “With a mother as mean as you, I’d be good.”
Sarah looked at him earnestly and said, “Discipline is important. It helps a child grow into a responsible person.”
“I agree,” he said, sobering. “I’m just not used to
—” He stopped himself and said, “You’re good at parenting, Sarah. It shows.”
Sarah let herself imagine for a moment that he was Nate and Brooke and Ryan’s father. It was too bad he didn’t like kids, because she thought he’d be good at it. But she’d learned not to indulge in fantasy, so she turned the subject away from her kids. She walked to the window being pelted with crystals of wind-driven snow and said, “I’m glad I’m in here and not out there.”
Drew joined her and said, “I’ve always known the weather was unpredictable in Wyoming, but I’m still always amazed to see it change from gentle snow to blizzard conditions in twenty minutes.”
“I wish the storm had held off long enough for us to get up Game Creek Canyon and back,” Sarah said. “I imagine every minute Kate Grayhawk spends out there in the wilderness feels like a lifetime. With any luck, this’ll blow through in a couple of hours.”
“Until then, I guess we’re stuck here together,” Drew said.
Their eyes caught and held.
Sarah felt a tingling in her breasts and a tightness in her belly that signaled a desire so strong it frightened her. She could feel her pulse racing, feel the heat in her throat as her body flushed with sexual awareness.
Her eyes remained riveted on Drew’s, so she was aware of how his pupils grew large and dark as he drank in the sight of her. She watched his nostrils flare for the scent of her, saw his sensual appetite awaken and grow.
Sarah knew she ought to flee, but she felt frozen in place by the force of Drew’s intense gaze.
He stretched out a hand almost lazily, like a sleek cat that knows its quarry is trapped and cannot escape. He circled her waist and pulled her toward him until her hips cradled his thighs. His body was hard against hers, his arousal unmistakable.
His eyes never left hers as his hands slid up to cup her derriere and settle her snugly against him. His nose nuzzled her throat, and his mouth followed. He nipped gently, then laved with his tongue, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.
Until that moment, Sarah had been passive in his arms.
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