“Mom, are you going to feed me burned pancakes?” Brian asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
She quickly flipped the smoking pancake, then added another to the griddle, trying to shove all thoughts of Mark out of her head as she finished the breakfast preparations.
“Did you take the hamburger and buns out of the freezer?” Brian asked a moment later as he stuffed a particularly large bite of food into his mouth.
“Yes, and I’ll make some baked beans and deviled eggs.”
“Great.” Brian chewed for a moment, then continued. “I told him to be here around five.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here right on time,” April assured her son. And after they had a pleasant meal, April had to have an unpleasant conversation with Mark.
She had to explain to him that she would be his friend, but she wouldn’t kiss him anymore. She didn’t want to lead him on, but she secretly realized she didn’t want to lead herself on, either.
After breakfast Brian took off for the stables, and April settled down at the table with a fresh cup of coffee and Marietta’s file in front of her.
It was about noon when a knock sounded at the door. She opened it to see a tall, dark-haired woman with the trademark Delaney strong features and dark gray eyes. “Hi. I’m Johnna Delaney.” She gave April’s hand a businesslike shake. “Matthew asked me to drop by and bring you the list of the guests who’ll be arriving soon. He thought having the list might help you set up your social schedule. He also found another file of Marietta’s notes.”
“Thank you,” April took the sheath of paper from the woman.
Johnna leaned back on her heels and studied April for a long moment. “So, you’re April, Mark’s new friend.”
April nodded, steeling herself for yet another round of warnings from a protective sibling.
“Despite the injuries he suffered, Mark is still one of the best, kindest men in the entire state of Arizona,” Johnna said.
April raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I agree. He’s been very kind to me and my son.”
“And even though he has some problems getting his thoughts together, he’s smarter than most of the cowboys working on this ranch.” Johnna’s voice held a touch of anger, an anger overlying what appeared to be a fierce protectiveness.
April offered her a tentative smile. “You’re preaching to the choir, Ms. Delaney.”
Johnna offered no answering smile. “I just want to let you know that it’s apparent Mark thinks a lot of you. Please don’t take advantage of him, and try not to hurt him.”
April frowned irritably. “Ms. Delaney, I don’t intend to take advantage of Mark in any way. He’s been a friend since we’ve arrived. That’s all, end of story.”
“It’s no skin off my back if you want to be more than friends,” Johnna countered. “But you should know one thing. This ranch is never going to make it, and when it goes under, all the Delaney money is going to go to our crazy aunt Clara who will probably spend the fortune buying little fur coats and jeweled collars for her hundreds of cats.”
April glared at the woman indignantly. “You are the second Delaney to subtly accuse me of being a gold digger. You don’t know me. You know nothing about the kind of person I am.”
April’s steam grew more intense. “And I’ll tell you something else—if you and your bulldog brother, Matthew, think the only reason a woman would be attracted to Mark is for any money he might possess, you are sadly underestimating him.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified by the words that had just erupted from her. Had she really just called Matthew Delaney a bulldog?
Johnna’s eyes widened as she stared at April. Then, without warning, she laughed. “Matthew does have more than his share of bulldog tendencies, doesn’t he?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” April replied, her cheeks burning with flames of mortification. Terrific, she’d probably just lost herself a job.
“No, please, don’t ruin it by apologizing,” Johnna said, her smile suddenly friendly. “I think I’m going to like you after all, April Cartwright.” Johnna stepped off the porch, her quicksilver smile once again gone. “I’ve got to get back. Nice to have you on the team, April.”
April watched as Johnna strode away, her shoulders rigid with what appeared to be attitude.
April wasn’t sure what she thought of Johnna Delaney. She appeared to be cut from the same cloth as Matthew—rather stern and with a hard gaze to her eyes. When she’d laughed, it had sounded rusty, as if laughter was an unfamiliar expression for her.
April went back to the table, carrying the sheet of paper Johnna had brought to her. Johnna had indicated that it was possible the ranch might somehow be lost. Were there financial problems? If so, then what money would go to their crazy aunt Clara? April frowned. It didn’t make sense.
She poured herself another cup of coffee, deciding the Delaneys’ business was not hers. She’d work here as long as possible and hopefully put enough money away so that if the ranch did go under and she lost her job, she and Brian would have a little something to fall back on.
It’s no skin off my back if you want to be more than friends. Johnna’s words echoed in April’s mind, and once again her thoughts turned to Mark… Mark, who had kissed her with a depth and fire that had to be addressed. Despite Johnna giving her a nod of approval, April couldn’t ignore Matthew’s warning.
She also had to look at the bigger picture. Despite her attraction to him, Mark could never be what she needed in her life. She needed a man who could be a strong role model for Brian, a man who would be less a peer and more a father figure.
Definitely she had to tell Mark that he couldn’t kiss her anymore. And she intended to address that subject this evening.
Shoving all thoughts of Delaneys out of her mind, she got back to work. It was late afternoon when Brian flew in to make his super hamburger patties. He rummaged in the spices, adding a pinch of this and a dot of that to the meat.
He hummed a nonsensical tune beneath his breath as he worked, and April feared it was the pleasure of knowing Mark was coming to dinner that had him happy.
“Mom, why don’t you change your clothes before Mark gets here,” Brian suggested when the hamburgers were sizzling in the skillet and the beans were bubbling in the oven.
“What’s wrong with what I have on?” she asked, looking down at her worn jeans and T-shirt.
Brian frowned at her. “You just would look better in one of those dresses you have. And maybe you could fluff up your hair or something.”
April raked a hair through her tousled curls and stared at her son. He’s trying to matchmake, she thought in surprise. And yet, why should that surprise her?
She knew better than anyone how desperate Brian was for a father figure in his life. He had quickly grown fond of Mark. Why wouldn’t he try to get the two of them together?
“Brian,” she began patiently. “I know you like Mark, but there’s not going to be anything between me and Mark, so you can just get that idea right out of your head.”
“You don’t know that,” he protested as he removed the burgers from the skillet.
“I do know that,” she replied firmly.
Still, a few moments later as Brian went out to wait for Mark, April went into her bedroom and changed her T-shirt, opting to wear a pale pink blouse instead.
It had nothing to do with trying to look attractive for Mark, she told herself as she finger combed her hair. She would have freshened up for anyone who was coming to dinner. She picked up a tube of lipstick, but threw it back on the dresser before she could apply any.
“Hey, Mom,” Brian called from the front door. “Step outside. Mark wants to show you something.”
April left her bedroom, walked through the tiny living room and stepped out on the porch. Instantly a rope whirled over her head, fell down over her shoulders and pulled tight to capture her arms against her sides.
“You got her, Mark!” Brian squealed in delight.
Mark stood some distance away, the other end of the lasso in his hands. He grinned lazily. “Sure looks like I’ve got her.”
As Mark began to reel her in, tugging the rope to pull her off the porch and toward him, Brian clapped and cheered.
“Mark, let me go,” April said, attempting to remove herself from the lasso but finding the rope too tight to work her arms out.
Ricky appeared nearby, motioning to Brian and talking excitedly about a new video game he’d just gotten. The two boys disappeared around the corner of the cottage.
Closer and closer Mark pulled April toward him, his sensual smile evoking heat through her.
“Mark, let me go,” she said with a forced laugh. “I feel like a prize steer.”
His grin widened. “You’re much prettier than a prize steer.” They were mere inches apart now, so close she could see the blue flecks that lightened the dark gray of his eyes. “I think before I let you go, I should kiss you again.”
“I don’t think you should do that,” April replied, her breath catching in her chest.
“Why not? I like kissing you.” His eyes twinkled and his smile widened. “And I think you like kissing me.”
“Just because you like something doesn’t mean you should do it,” she protested.
“Why not?”
“Mark, please let me go.”
With his eyes still sparkling evocatively, he did as she bade. As he removed the rope, his hands lightly caressed her bare arms, shooting tendrils of heat up her shoulders and down to her fingertips.
Whatever inadequacies he might suffer, they weren’t apparent in his utter sexiness. She stepped back from him, back far enough that she couldn’t smell his scent—the fragrance of wind and sun and a touch of spice.
“The hamburgers are ready,” she said. “Brian,” she yelled, and her son reappeared from around the side of cottage. “It’s time to eat.”
“Ricky got a new video game. After dinner can I go over and play?” Brian asked.
“We’ll see,” April said. Actually, that would work out perfectly. Brian could go to Ricky’s house while April had her difficult talk with Mark.
She had to make him understand that they could be friends. But friends didn’t kiss with such depth and longing, and friends didn’t look at each other as if they wanted to devour the other.
As the heat of his touch slowly ebbed, she reiterated in her mind that, definitely, it was time to have a talk with Mark.
As Mark sat at the table with mother and son, he studied April. She looked particularly fetching in a feminine pink blouse that brought a blush of color to her cheeks.
A surge of desire welled up inside him, and his fingers tingled with the tactile memory of the feel of her skin as he’d removed the lasso from around her.
“So…what do you think?” Brian asked, interrupting Mark’s thoughts. He pointed to the hamburger Mark was eating.
“It’s really good, Brian.” Mark smiled at the boy, who eyed him eagerly. “You’re a real good cook.”
Brian beamed beneath the praise. “I couldn’t make them like I usually do ’cause we didn’t have all the spices I needed, but I did the best I could.”
“They’re terrific, Brian,” April said, her gaze soft and loving as it rested on her son.
A flash of memory swept through Mark…a memory of his own mother gazing at him in that very same way. The memory surprised him with its vividness.
He’d been five years old when his mother had died giving birth to Johnna and he hadn’t realized the depth of his deprivation until this moment, seeing April gaze at Brian.
He wondered how different his relationship with his siblings and his father would have been had his mother lived. Would she have provided the warmth, the commitment to family, the unconditional love that had been lacking under his father’s care?
He shoved these thoughts aside, knowing nothing could be gained by wondering what if. What seemed more important at the moment was trying to decide if he could trust April Cartwright with his secret.
“I met your sister today,” April said.
Mark raised an eyebrow. “You did?”
She nodded. “She brought by a detailed list of the first guests who’ll be here. She seemed very nice.”
Mark almost laughed aloud. Few people found Johnna nice. She was usually abrasive, hardheaded and driven. If she had been nice to April, then there was probably an ulterior motive.
“Johnna’s a lawyer,” Mark said. “A defense lawyer, but now she has to spend part of her time working the ranch because that’s what my father’s will says.”
“Were you sad when your dad died?” Brian asked.
Mark hesitated before replying. It would be easy to say no, to tell the boy that Adam had been a heartless bastard and the world was better off without him.
That was what Mark wanted to believe, because it made his father’s death easier to accept. It made the poor connection between them his father’s fault and not Mark’s.
“Yeah, I was sad,” he finally answered, and in his simple statement, he recognized the truth. He was sad, sad for all the lost years, sad for what he and Adam would never have.
“My dad isn’t dead, but he makes me sad,” Brian said softly.
Mark saw the pain that darkened April’s lovely eyes at her son’s words. He wondered what had happened to her marriage.
For some reason the sadness in her eyes and the gentle touch of her hand to her son’s touched him deeply. Through the rest of the meal the talk remained pleasant. Both Brian and April asked him questions about the daily running of the ranch when guests were present, and he answered them as well as he could if he were truly suffering some sort of brain damage.
It was frustrating as hell to pretend he didn’t have the mental faculties of an intelligent man. He found himself watching every word, carefully weighing each response.
He wished he could just throw caution to the wind, explain the whole subterfuge to April. But he knew better than anyone that the safest course of action would be for him to maintain silence. Still, the burden of his secret weighed heavily on him.
For the past three weeks, since making the decision to appear addled, Mark had been forced to live an existence of isolation. In those weeks he hadn’t had a truly meaningful discussion with anyone, nor had he been able to relax for a moment, fearful that he might somehow give himself away.
They were clearing the table when a knock sounded at the door. Brian answered and instantly turned to his mom. “It’s Ricky. Can I go over to his house and play his new video game with him?”
April nodded, then looked at her watch. “Okay, but be home by eight-thirty.”
Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Brian shot out the door. “Thanks, Mom. See you in the morning, Mark,” he said over his shoulder, then he pulled the door closed, leaving Mark and April alone in the small cottage.
April flashed him what appeared to be a slightly nervous smile as she put the last dish away in the cabinet. “Sit down, Mark. We need to have a talk.” She gestured to the sofa.
“A talk?” He eyed her curiously as he sat.
She joined him on the sofa, her expression somber. Mark’s curiosity was piqued. He couldn’t imagine what she needed to discuss with him.
She raked a hand through her short, pale curls and drew a deep breath. “Mark, you mustn’t kiss me anymore.” Her cheeks instantly flamed with color.
“Why not? I liked kissing you, and you liked kissing me.”
Her blush intensified. “That’s not the point.” She sighed and once again threaded a hand through her curls. “You’re a Delaney, and that means you’re one of my bosses. It isn’t good to have a relationship with a boss.”
“I’m not a boss,” Mark scoffed. “Matthew is the boss. I just work with the horses.”
“Mark, you’re a very nice man, but it isn’t appropriate for you to kiss me anymore.” She averted her gaze from his.
He wanted to kiss her aga
in now, at this very moment, with the blush on her cheeks and her discomfort with the conversation so obvious.
He wanted to kiss her and watch the green of her eyes deepen and taste the sweetness of her lips. His fingers itched with the need to caress her soft skin, to feel the sensual softness of her blond curls.
“Matthew doesn’t want us kissing,” she finally said, and looked at him once again.
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He told you that?”
“Not exactly,” she hedged. “But he said he didn’t want me taking advantage of you.”
“Taking advantage…” Mark cursed inwardly. For years Matthew had virtually ignored Mark. But now, after a knock on Mark’s head, Matthew was suddenly the poster boy for big brothers of the world. “Matthew is not my keeper, and he has no right to involve himself in my personal life.” Instantly he recognized he’d been too eloquent in his statement.
April’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he saw a trace of suspicion in the depths. “He’s your brother and he worries about you,” she finally said.
“Matthew doesn’t worry about anything but the ranch,” he countered, his tone sharper than intended.
April frowned. “You mentioned something earlier about your father’s will forcing your sister to spend time on the ranch.”
Mark nodded and saw her relax as the conversation moved away from the reasons he shouldn’t kiss her. “In his will, it’s stipulated that all of us have to spend twenty-five hours a week working the ranch for a year or else the ranch is sold and everything goes to our aunt Clara.” Again he realized he wasn’t using the words of a man who found thinking and speaking difficult. But April didn’t seem to notice.
“And that’s why Matthew wasn’t sure if the ranch would remain open or not?” she asked.
“Yeah. We’ll never make it the whole year,” Mark said, voicing what he’d subconsciously known since the moment the will had been read.
“Why not?”
Mark sighed. “Johnna hates the ranch and everything to do with it. She and Matthew butt heads about nearly everything.” Mark suddenly realized why Johnna had been nice to April. If Matthew had indicated he didn’t like April, or didn’t trust her, then Johnna would take April under her wing just to be perverse.
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