Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  Wanting to kiss her, Curran restrained himself. “Feeling guilty?”

  “Sometimes.”

  The way she said it made him think that Jane had just moved into a whole different territory. Giving up on the thought that she might just want to spend a few moments alone with him, he put his own desires aside for the moment.

  “You feel guilty about Shaw?” he asked.

  “I have enough reason.”

  Fighting his better judgment, Curran reached across the table and took Jane’s hand to comfort her. She jumped as if stung. He clung to her fingers and refused to let her withdraw. For a moment, they merely shared the warmth of two human beings connecting on a very basic level.

  Then suddenly, as if an invisible force took on a life of its own, the connection between them multiplied and metamorphosed…

  He felt her fear, her desperation…He experienced the weight of the pitchfork in her hands.

  Horror filled him when Shaw bolted forward and impaled himself on the tines. He staggered back and somehow wrested himself free of the implement. Blood gushed through his fingers as he tried to stop it.

  Curran watched, mesmerized, shaking…

  But it was Jane who was shaking, and in reliving her memory he was somehow inside her.

  He pushed back at the dreadful images and emotions, crowded them with projected security and warmth that he wanted to give her…

  Across from him, Jane’s eyes widened.

  Message received, Curran thought as he blinked back into reality.

  “Stop that!” Jane whispered, trying to free her hand. “I told you not to do that anymore!”

  Still, Curran wouldn’t let her go. “Shaw meant you harm, Jane. You were merely protecting yourself. And now I want to protect you.”

  Her expression changed—to one of longing?—but only for a moment. Then she shook away whatever she was feeling. And with a show of strength, she plucked her hand from his.

  So that he couldn’t read her further?

  “I can’t rationalize this!” she insisted. “If only…”

  “If only what?”

  “Never mind.” She cast her eyes downward. “Nothing.”

  “I’m on your side.”

  “Are you?”

  “Whose side would I be on, then?”

  She glanced up at him. “Your own.”

  Curran was certain that she hadn’t come to that conclusion naturally. He was certain that she had been done harm in more ways than she had yet admitted.

  “At least you’re honest about your opinion of me. Life must have treated you terribly for you to be so cynical,” he said, in truth thinking of Gavin Shaw.

  “Only lately. I’m afraid the past few months have colored my view of the world.” Her breath trembled as she said, “I used to be a trusting person.”

  He remembered a time when he had been trusting, as well. “We all start out that way.”

  “Even you?” She looked up at him through wounded eyes.

  Softening to her hurt, he admitted, “Even me.”

  Dinner arrived, cutting the heart-to-heart to the quick. They ate in silence. Ate fast. The hour that Curran had anticipated dwindled to half.

  And through it all, Curran felt her gaze on him, as if she was trying to see inside him.

  What a turnaround that would be…

  Only when the coffee arrived did she ask, “What about you, Curran? I feel as if you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you…other than your being Irish, a talented horse trainer, and a man with two sisters and a gift that he doesn’t particularly appreciate.”

  And one that she didn’t altogether appreciate, either, he knew. “What more do you need?”

  She shrugged. “The usual. What kind of a child were you? What was your most heartfelt dream? Have you ever had your heart broken?”

  “Somewhat inventive…I’m doing it…and yes.”

  “Well, no waste of words there.”

  She hadn’t confided in him totally about Shaw, so why should he tell her about Maggie?

  “What you see is what you get.”

  “I think I said that,” she protested.

  “That you did.” Curran moved a seat closer so that he was next to rather than across from her. The golden brown hair feathering her face gave her that earthly quality he loved about her. He stared into her sparkling eyes and was once again drawn in. “I like what I see—a woman who is strong and protective of those she loves, plus has a tender heart.”

  She licked her lips. “Who is unsure of herself, foolish and has a slightly tarnished outlook on life.”

  “That’s the problem. How is it that you can only see the negative about yourself?”

  “Experience.”

  Curran cupped her chin and turned her lovely face toward him. “Let me give you a new one, then.”

  He could feel the pulse in her throat speed up against the part of his hand touching it. Her breath quickened and her eyes widened as he slowly dipped his head toward hers.

  His own breath caught as his mouth grazed hers. Her lips trembled and began to open for him. His pulse surged with expectation…

  Then suddenly she pulled back, her expression strange. “No!”

  “You want me to kiss you, Sheena,” he said in a low, seductive voice. “I don’t need to have special powers to know that.”

  “But not here.” She furtively glanced around as if worried someone was watching. “Not like this.”

  “I see.”

  She slid her glance away and settled herself in her chair away from him as far as she could without actually getting up and moving.

  That was it, then, Curran thought, removing himself and settling back in his original seat. In the secretive dark, with no one to see, kissing him might be acceptable to the farm owner. But in the open…

  “You’re a snob, then, Jane Grantham,” he said, comparing her to Maggie and finding no difference where it counted. “A lowly horse trainer is not good enough for the likes of you.”

  He hadn’t actually meant to say it aloud, but the words left his mouth without permission. Curran had had enough of shaming her kind. He wouldn’t take them back.

  And though Jane turned a stricken gaze on him, she didn’t make any denials.

  LET HIM THINK what he would, Jane wasn’t about to unburden herself to Curran McKenna.

  She had wanted him to kiss her again, but she hadn’t let him because the memories of Gavin were too raw after reliving the horror of his death.

  And because it would have given Curran permission to get inside her head and go exploring yet again. He did that more than enough for her comfort and she couldn’t seem to stop him. Surely even she was entitled to some privacy of thought.

  To that end, she just had to avoid getting too close, no matter how tempting a Curran McKenna might be.

  Not that he was one of many. Curran was unique. Perhaps special.

  The one.

  But how could she be sure? Jane wondered. He put her emotions in turmoil, but how could she trust her own instincts after the way she’d led her family and farm and a horse who couldn’t protect himself into ruin?

  She couldn’t do that again and survive.

  The return drive seemed interminable and Jane was relieved when they arrived at Grantham Acres. Dusk had fallen, masking Curran’s expression when she glanced at him. He stopped the car in front of the house.

  Slipping out, she said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Maybe a night alone to think things through would help her sort out all her doubts.

  “In the morning, then,” he repeated coolly.

  A shiver went up her spine and she stood planted to the spot, unable to make her limbs move as he drove off toward the guest house. His hurt cut her to the quick.

  Surely he couldn’t feel the knife as sharply as she…or could he?

  Fearing she was being unfair to Curran in comparing him to Gavin in any way, Jane knew she had to deal with this situation
. Deal with herself. She was the problem. She couldn’t go on like this.

  She couldn’t expect him to.

  Sighing, she turned toward the house and opened the door.

  She’d barely set a foot inside when her grandmother called out, “Jane, dear, is that you?”

  “Yes, Nani.”

  Her grandmother stepped into the foyer. One look at her distraught expression, and Jane knew something terrible had happened.

  “Nani?”

  “It’s Susan.”

  Jane’s pulse kicked up, as did a frisson of guilt. “What has she done now?”

  “About an hour ago, she rushed out of here. Not a word to me about where she was going. Then a few minutes ago, I was on my way upstairs and I found this.”

  From her pocket, she pulled a piece of paper and handed it to Jane, who unfolded it and scanned the contents.

  Printed in block letters, the missive was short.

  S—

  I MUST SEE YOU. MEET ME OUT AT THE POTTERS’ FARM at 7:30.

  T

  “T-Timothy Brady,” Jane murmured. “He didn’t say where exactly.” As far as she knew, in addition to the tobacco fields, there were a couple of barns and an abandoned house on the property. No one to see what they might be up to. She checked her watch. “It’s just before eight now. Perhaps they’ll still be at the barn. I’m going after her.”

  She opened the foyer-table drawer and took out the car keys.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, Nani. This is my doing. You were right, I should have handled things with Susan better. She wouldn’t have gone to meet Timothy Brady if she hadn’t thought I was going to send her away.”

  Which she still might do, but not until she’d explained why. She would tell her sister everything, Jane vowed, if only Susan were all right.

  “Don’t worry, Nani,” she said, giving her grandmother a hug. “I’ll bring Susan back safe and sound.”

  “Of course you will, Jane. I can always count on you to do the right thing.”

  If only that were true, Jane thought, setting off.

  But this had to be true. Susan was her responsibility. She had to keep her little sister safe.

  The note could be innocent, Jane assured herself as she started the car. Perhaps Timothy just wanted to say goodbye in person.

  But he wasn’t going to get away, she vowed, not without answering a few questions about Gavin. She realized that meant she would have to talk to him in front of Susan. Well, so be it. As Curran had said, she should have confided in her own blood long ago. She’d been foolish trying to protect them. Instead, she’d done just the opposite.

  Whatever happened, confrontation with Tim or not, Jane vowed to explain things to Susan, so that her sister would understand the danger they were all in.

  And then she would see to Curran, she thought. He had only done good by them. He had no investment here, really. He couldn’t be certain that Finn would be ready for the Classic, no less win the cup. Yet here he was, giving her his all while she gave him a hard time.

  This connection thing…while it scared her, she couldn’t ignore the significance of this happening only between the two of them. It had to mean something in the scheme of the universe.

  She wanted to be able to trust in someone, Jane thought, not only with the farm, but with her heart.

  And Curran McKenna seemed to be just the man to fit the bill.

  CURRAN COULDN’T DEFINE what was troubling him.

  More than the disquiet caused by the averted kiss, a strange unease filled him and wouldn’t let him be.

  “Sheena.”

  The name rolled from his lips so easily. She was his first thought when he awoke, his last thought at night. She filled the empty spaces in a way no woman ever had before.

  Even as he thought about Jane Grantham being his fate, the telephone rang. Pulse speeding, he quickly snatched up the receiver.

  “Jane?”

  “I’m afraid not, Curran. ’Tis only your favorite sister.”

  “Flanna,” he joked, “calling me all the way from Ireland, are you?”

  “Be careful that I don’t slap you silly,” Keelin said with mock indignation. “I am still older than you.”

  Despite his mood, Curran smiled. He and his sisters had always tortured each other good-naturedly.

  After exchanging pleasantries about family members, he asked, “So to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I’ve been worried about you, boyo,” she said bluntly. “So, tell me.”

  As usual, he needed no translation for the shorthand that came easily between them. “You need to hear me say that you were right?”

  “So Jane Grantham is the one, then?”

  “Aye, I’m afraid so. Not that she appreciates the fact.”

  “You told her?”

  “Not exactly. Actually, ’tis me she doesn’t appreciate. Rather, my being below her station.” A fact that still stung.

  Keelin was silent for a moment. “From what you’ve told me, she seemed more than that.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  “Perhaps you’re reading her wrong,” she suggested. “Perhaps ’tis something else that is making her unreceptive. Besides, she’s an American and Americans are notoriously blind to class,” she said, dismissing his objection. “Well, most of them, anyway.”

  “I would that you were right on this.”

  “What about the rest? The danger? I’ve not felt quiet about it since talking to you last.”

  “As you predicted,” Curran admitted. “Someone tried to kill Jane using a tranquilizer dart.”

  “So it has started then.”

  Keelin’s dire tone sent the short hairs on Curran’s neck to attention. “And she won’t let the authorities in on this, either.”

  “We McKennas don’t pick mates who are easy to love.”

  “Sheena’s easy enough to love, just difficult to get along with.”

  “Ah, so she’s the difficult one.”

  Knowing Keelin was trying to lighten the mood, Curran said, “But not as difficult as you.”

  She laughed. “And what about the stallion? Have you tamed him yet?”

  “He’s coming along.”

  “I spoke to Tyler and he’s agreed. Should Finn mac Cumhail be ready to run, we’ll be there to see it—”

  “I’ll hold you to that, now.”

  “And to meet your Jane, of course.”

  Curran didn’t protest that Jane wasn’t his. He merely had to figure out how to convince her that she was.

  Once they had signed off, Curran’s unease returned twofold. Perhaps he was projecting, but he was certain that his disquiet had to do with Jane. But how, when they weren’t in the same building, not to mention the same room?

  As if he could connect with her anyway, Curran concentrated on what seemed to be an internal alarm that was going off, and had the singular feeling that Jane was definitely in danger.

  Now!

  JANE PULLED OFF the pike onto a dirt road that cut through the Potters’ tobacco field and put on her brights. The road ahead was empty of life. But when she approached the twin wooden barns that were used to dry the crop, the high beams caught Susan’s car, which was parked to the rear.

  A bit wary, Jane looked around carefully as she drove closer, passing the system of flues coming from an exterior furnace that provided the curing heat.

  No other vehicle in sight.

  Had Tim not shown yet? Or had Susan gone with him? To the abandoned house? Or farther away, perhaps for good?

  Which was her greatest fear at the moment…

  Jane closed her eyes and prayed that her first assumption—Tim not showing—was correct. Or, perhaps he had shown, had said his goodbyes and had left Susan to cope with her disappointment.

  Whatever the circumstances, Jane needed to be sure.

  Leaving the security of her car, she called out, “Susan?” but her sister didn’t answer.

  Jane grabbed h
er flashlight and cane and slipped into the night. Her gait awkward, she quickly cut through her car’s high beams and went straight for her sister’s vehicle. She flashed her portable light around the interior.

  No one inside.

  “Susan?” she called again, feeling a little sick inside as she scanned the area for something, anything, to lead her to the rash teenager.

  Nothing.

  Jane turned toward the barns used for flue-curing tobacco. They were high and narrow, each airtight building acting as a sort of chimney. No sign of life there, either. And a curing barn would be an odd place for a tryst, but she wouldn’t know for certain unless she checked inside.

  Susan’s car was, after all, still here.

  Opening the door of the first barn, she was immediately struck by the dry air. Regulated humidity and heat within the buildings dried the leaves so that they didn’t become moldy and useless. Though she didn’t condone smoking, tobacco was a major crop and a fact of life in the area, so she was familiar with the process.

  She slipped inside and cast her flashlight beam across racks of tobacco leaves that were already turning yellow. The color would be fixed and all the moisture removed within a matter of days.

  “Susan?” she called, moving inward, just to be sure she didn’t miss anything.

  Finding no sign of her sister, Jane left the first barn and headed for its twin. If Susan wasn’t in there, she could check the house, but somehow, she didn’t see Susan having a tryst in an abandoned building. She could be gone. A runaway.

  Then what?

  Susan was a minor. If she was missing, they would have to involve the authorities, after all. Nani could call Biggs Mason. The old sheriff had been a good friend for years. Surely he could be counted on to be efficient and discreet in bringing Susan home.

  Bringing in the authorities should make Curran happy, Jane thought, wishing he were with her. In a very short time, she had grown dependent on his support and she ached to feel his arm around her shoulders, ached to hear the thrilling lilt of his voice.

  “Curran, if you’re tuning in to me, I do need you,” she whispered.

  And not just to fix her troubles.

  When she swung open the door to the second building, she was blasted by dry air far hotter than in the first. This tobacco was obviously further along. The automatic rise in temperature was meant to dry the leaves thoroughly.