Man on a Mission

by Carla Cassidy

  “What about your brother Luke?” April asked curiously.

  “Luke doesn’t care much about anything but his guitar and having a good time. He and Johnna will never make it the whole year. The Delaney Dude Ranch will eventually be sold.”

  “And what will you do if that happens?” Her voice was soft with empathy.

  He was surprised by her question. He’d expected her to worry about what she would do if that happened. “I don’t know,” he replied, and stared thoughtfully at the wall.

  His father had always told him he wasn’t good for anything other than dealing with the horses, and without the ranch there would be no horses for him to tend. “I try not to think about it.”

  April placed her hand on his forearm, her gaze impossibly soft as it searched his face. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine no matter what happens.”

  He covered her hand with his and smiled at her. “I sure have a strong need to kiss you again.”

  She withdrew her hand as if his skin were on fire, and again a deep blush engulfed her features. She stood and stepped away from the sofa, but not before he saw a flare of desire spark in her eyes. “Mark, we just went through all of that,” she exclaimed.

  Mark stood and approached her, standing so close to her he could feel her heat, see the emerald flecks that made her eyes so impossibly green. “You said Matthew didn’t want you taking advantage of me. But you didn’t say anything about me taking advantage of you.”

  Before she could protest, before she could reply in any fashion, he took her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.

  For a brief moment she remained stiff, but as his tongue deepened the kiss, she softened, sweetly yielding to his embrace and the heat their mouths produced.

  Mark pulled her more tightly against him, loving the way her soft curves felt against the hard planes of his body. His hands smoothed up her back, beneath her blouse, touching her impossibly smooth skin.

  At that instant he knew kissing her wouldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he touched every inch of her sweet skin, felt her nakedness next to his, possessed her completely.

  “April,” he whispered against her throat as his lips left hers. “Sweet April.” She gasped with pleasure as his mouth blazed a trail down the side of her neck.

  He wanted her so badly, he ached inside. He wanted to whisk her into his arms, take her into her bedroom and love her until they both were lost in a haze of passion.

  “April, my brain damage. It isn’t real. I’ve been faking it.” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out so starkly, but he suddenly realized there was no way he could take his caresses any further, no way he could make love to her without telling her the truth.

  Instantly April stiffened against him, then stepped away. He held his breath as he saw first disbelief, then anger, darken April’s eyes.

  Chapter 7

  April stared at the handsome cowboy standing before her, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. But it was difficult to think with the imprint of his mouth still burning hers, with the memory of his warm hands on the bare skin of her back. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  He sank back on the sofa and patted the space next to him. “Please, come sit down and let me explain.”

  Grudgingly she did as he asked, perching on the very edge of the sofa and staring at him in bewilderment. “What do you mean, you’ve been faking it?”

  “I mean just what I said. I don’t have any lingering brain damage. I was not turned into a simpleton by the shovel that hit me.”

  April searched his face, her mind working to make sense of what he’d just said. Shock ricocheted through her, yet on some level deep inside her, she wasn’t so surprised after all.

  She thought of those odd moments when she’d thought she’d seen intelligence radiating from his eyes. One minute his gaze would be vague, like soft, fuzzy dove wings, and the next it would be gunmetal-gray and sharp as twin bullets. His conversations with her had been confusing, as well. Sometimes she’d forget that he had brain damage.

  “Then why…why are you pretending otherwise?” she asked incredulously. As her shock dissipated, a surge of anger welled up inside her.

  “Because it’s the only way I know to catch the person who killed Marietta and tried to kill me.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Marietta was the social director before you. I met her one night out by the barn and—”

  April interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “Walter Tilley told me all about it.” She frowned, trying to focus on his words instead of the deep sense of betrayal that swept through her. After all, Mark Delaney was nothing to her. Why should she be angry that he’d lied to her when he’d lied to his own family, as well?

  The answer came swiftly. Because he had just kissed her until her senses spun, because he had stirred in her a deep want that would have made it easy for her to give in—and it had all been done from a point of deception.

  “What about your family? How could you keep up the pretense with them?” She couldn’t imagine any reason strong enough to justify what he’d done, what he apparently intended to keep doing to his brothers and sister.

  He frowned and his eyes darkened to the deepest shadows of night. “Because I don’t know if I can trust them.”

  Again April was struck by how odd the relationship of the Delaney siblings was. Odd and somehow sad. Of course, she’d trusted her own father, and that had been an enormous mistake. “I thought the sheriff knew who had hurt you,” she said. “Some worker who disappeared after that night.”

  “Lenny Boles,” Mark replied. “That’s who the sheriff thinks did it.”

  “But you don’t think so?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t know what happened to Lenny, but I don’t think he had anything to do with Marietta’s death and my injuries.” He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as if suffering a headache. “Lenny was a loner and something of a gutless worm. Branding cattle made him ill. I can’t imagine him having the stomach for bashing somebody over the head.”

  “Then who?” April couldn’t help asking. It was much easier to focus on the crime that had occurred than her warring emotions concerning his confession.

  “I don’t know. That’s what the addle-minded pretense is all about.” He leaned toward her, his gaze more intense than she’d ever seen it before. That intensity nearly stole her breath away.

  She’d thought him handsome before, with the characteristic vagueness in his eyes, but with the sharpness of intelligence radiating from their depths, he was devastating.

  “Something is going on here at the ranch…something I can’t get a handle on. But Marietta knew about it, and the night she tried to tell me what was going on, she was killed and I almost was killed, as well.”

  April drew in a deep breath and averted her gaze, finding it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying while looking at him. She was still too close to the intimacy they had shared only moments before. “And you don’t have any idea what might be going on?”

  “Possibly drug running or selling.” He told her about the conversation he’d overheard in the stables. “Whatever it is, I know Billy Carr is involved and a man named Larry that he was talking to. What I need to find out is exactly what is taking place here and who the boss is.”

  “But why the need to pretend that you have brain damage?” April asked, trying to understand.

  “Because all the ranch hands talk freely in front of me now. They think I’m too stupid to understand what they’re saying. I’ve already learned that Jacob Sinclair regularly steals grain and Timothy Franklin skims off the top whenever he goes to town for supplies.”

  “But stealing grain and skimming a little cash isn’t the same as murder and attempted murder,” she protested. “Isn’t this something you should take to the sheriff? Let him handle whatever might be going on?”

  “No.” The succinct reply was followed by a deep sigh that for some reason resonated inside April. “This is something
I have to do myself.” For the first time April saw something dark, almost haunting in his gaze. “The last thing Marietta said to me before she was killed was to trust nobody—not my family and not the sheriff. She was adamant about it. I…I don’t know who to trust.”

  April’s anger resurfaced inside her. She stood and walked several paces away from the sofa, then turned to face him once again. “Why are you telling me all this? Why did you feel the need to confess this secret to me?”

  He grinned, the darkness she’d momentarily seen gone beneath the charm of his smile. “Because I figured if I was going to kiss you anymore, then we shouldn’t have any secrets between us.”

  “I’m being serious,” she replied curtly, angered further by his flippant reply.

  He leaned forward and raked a hand through his thick, dark hair. His smile was gone as he studied her. “Because for some reason I knew I could trust you,” he said softly. “Because I haven’t had a deep, meaningful conversation with anyone since I started this charade.” He shrugged. “Because I just wanted—needed you to know that I was okay.”

  April became aware of a headache throbbing at her temples. “Okay, great. You’ve shared your secret with me. Now I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  His eyebrows quirked up with surprise. “You’re angry.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied. “I don’t know you well enough to be angry with you.” She sighed, her headache intensifying. “Mark, I’m sorry that somebody hurt you, but I’m not sure I agree with what you’re doing, fooling everyone. Still, it’s really none of my business.”

  She opened the door, allowing in a wave of warm, evening air. “I don’t want to know about murder and deception. I’m a single mother just wanting to make a decent life for me and my son. Now, I think it best if we just say good-night.”

  He stood and walked toward her, his expression unreadable. He stopped when he was close enough that she could smell his evocative scent, close enough that she could feel his body heat. “April…I’m sorry if I made a mistake in confiding in you. It wasn’t my intention to add to whatever burdens you’re carrying.”

  His apology effectively banished the anger that had momentarily gripped her. “You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

  He smiled—that damnable smile that shot heat through her veins. “I wasn’t worried. I told you a minute ago I knew I could trust you.” He stepped outside, then turned back to her. “Tell Brian his hamburgers were terrific and I’ll see him tomorrow.”

  She nodded, grateful when he turned and left. She immediately closed the door and went to the kitchen cabinet for some aspirin. She got a glass of water, swallowed two tablets, then sat at the table, her mind whirling with everything she had just learned.

  No brain damage. The whole thing was nothing but a sham. Incredible. And yet, as she thought back over the times she’d spent with Mark, the clues had been there.

  She rubbed her temples, wondering again about the Delaney family dynamics. Why would Mark choose to tell a virtual stranger his secret instead of sharing it with his family? Why would he take the suspicions of Marietta, a ranch worker, over his family?

  She thought of that first kiss they had shared, a kiss that had thrilled her down to her toes. It had been the kiss of a man skilled at physical pleasure. Yet at the time she had felt slightly guilty, worrying that somehow she might take advantage of Mark and his condition.

  A touch of anger reappeared. He’d taken advantage of her. He’d kissed her the first time and this evening under false pretenses, pretending to be something that he wasn’t. She’d been drawn to him because she’d thought he was different—more innocent and pure. She now realized those attributes had been sleight of hand, tricks of the light. Lies.

  She suddenly recognized that her anger wasn’t really anger at all. Rather what she felt was disappointment. She was disappointed to realize that Mark was just another male who was exceptionally good at deception.

  By the next morning her headache was blessedly gone, and she resolutely shoved all thoughts of Mark Delaney out of her mind.

  She spent the morning at the table with the list of guests who would soon be arriving, working up the schedule of activities she needed to have approved by Matthew.

  As she opened Marietta’s thick file, she remembered what Mark had told her the night before—that Marietta had known something was going on at the ranch and she’d met with Mark to tell him what she knew.

  Was it possible Marietta had written something down in the file April now possessed? There was an impossible amount of paperwork in the two manila folders. April hadn’t even begun to get through it all.

  She stared at the file. Should she mention them to Mark? Maybe something in the files could help him solve the mystery.

  She hesitated. Did she really want to get involved with any of this? After all, it certainly wasn’t her place to help Mark figure out what was going on at the ranch. And yet, if it were something illegal, some activity that put them all at risk, wasn’t it her civic responsibility to do what she could?

  She shook her head ruefully at this thought. Civic responsibility, indeed. The truth of the matter was she couldn’t get Mark out of her head, couldn’t forget the deep torment she’d seen in his eyes. She wanted to help him. It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.

  Making up her mind, she left the cottage and went in search of him.

  She found Brian outside the stables, raking a portion of a corral with a wide rake. “Where’s Mark?” she asked her son. He stopped his work for a moment and pointed toward the stable.

  Entering the building, she was greeted with the sounds and smells of horses. Hooves pawed the ground, nostrils snorted the air, and soft whinnies greeted her as she passed each of the stalls.

  She heard Mark before she saw him. His deep voice was soft and caressing. “It’s all right, sweet girl. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Stepping toward a large work area, she spied him brushing a horse’s mane. The horse was obviously nervous, sidestepping the touch of the comb.

  April didn’t speak for a moment, but instead simply watched. Today, instead of being clad in his usual blue jeans, he wore a pair of black denim jeans that made his legs look longer, leaner. Beneath his gray T-shirt, his bicep muscles bulged and danced as he worked to both maintain control of the horse and accomplish the combing.

  “Mark,” she called softly, irritated that the very sight of him swept a whisper of heat through her.

  He looked up from the horse, his lips curving with pleasure. “April. Are you looking for Brian? He’s outside.”

  “No,” she replied. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Just a minute. Let me put Muffin here away.” He led the horse to a nearby stall, his soothing, soft talk continuing as he settled the horse in the small enclosure.

  April wondered if he would use that same soft, caressing voice when making love. Would he caress his lady with the same tenderness that he used on the animals?

  As he approached where she stood, she shoved her disturbing thoughts away. She didn’t intend to find out if Mark Delaney was a tender lover.

  “So, what’s up?” he asked, his gaze warm as it lingered on her face. “Have you decided to forgive me?”

  “I told you last night that there’s nothing to forgive. I wanted to talk to you because while I was doing a little work this morning, I had a sudden thought about Marietta.”

  Mark glanced around, then took her by the arm and pulled her toward a door. April realized he didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation.

  He opened the door and pulled her inside a tiny closet. Reaching above his head, he tugged on a chain that lit the dim lightbulb overhead.

  April was instantly aware of their proximity, forced by the small enclosure. Her breasts were mere inches from his broad chest, and if she tilted her head slightly back, his lips would be within easy reach.

  “Now, what did you wa
nt to tell me?” His voice was a low whisper, his breath smelling of mint as it fanned her face.

  “I’ve been looking through Marietta’s file that Matthew gave me, and it’s obvious that she was an extensive note maker.” She stared at his chest as she spoke, not wanting to look up into his eyes. “The file is huge, and I’ve only managed to get through about an eighth of it. I was thinking maybe if Marietta had suspicions about something going on here at the ranch, she might have written something down in the file.”

  “I’ve been through most of her file,” he replied.

  “But your sister brought me another file. Have you seen it?”

  He shook his head. “No, I haven’t, but I’d like to.” With his forefinger beneath her chin, he tilted her head so their gazes met. “I know this is asking a lot, but could I come to your place and go through the second file? Maybe you could help me figure things out. Will you help me?”

  She wanted to tell him no, wanted to tell him she didn’t want to get more deeply involved with him. But seeing the sweet heat in his eyes, she was powerless to deny him.

  Besides, he was only asking her to go over some papers with him. What harm could come from that?

  “All right,” she agreed reluctantly, eager to get away from his overwhelming nearness. “Come to my place tonight after dinner, and we can go through all of it.”

  “Great. About seven?”

  She nodded and reached to open the door. He stopped her by placing his hand over hers on the knob. “April, I really appreciate it.”

  For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. His eyes darkened and she saw the intended kiss on his features as his face moved closer to hers.

  Her breath caught in her chest as she realized how badly she wanted him to kiss her again. And as that realization made itself known, she quickly turned the doorknob and stepped out of the closet.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

  She nodded and left the stables. As she walked back toward her cottage, she wondered what it was about Mark Delaney that sent her senses reeling, that made her think of hot nights and stolen kisses, of sweaty bodies and whispered sighs.