by Pamela Toth
Emma continued to hesitate, chewing her lip, as he tried to conceal his impatience. He had a reputation in business for ruthlessness, but he wasn’t used to having his integrity questioned. Still, he hadn’t gotten where he was today by taking the conservative road.
“Emma, if you don’t know whether or not you can trust me, I’m wasting my time here. Which is it going to be?”
Her eyes widened at his question. “Let’s go.” Her immediate capitulation surprised him. He never knew how she was going to react.
When she headed for his car, Brandon caught her arm. He had to ask. “You do know that you have no reason to be afraid of me, don’t you?”
Her smile was rueful. “Not in the way you mean,” she said enigmatically as a carful of noisy teens swerved into the parking lot, stereo blaring.
Brandon would have liked to know exactly what Emma meant, but he wasn’t going to push it until he got her safely to the ranch where he hoped the spectacular scenery might mellow her mood.
“Have you had any luck finding your mother?” he asked once they were on the road and headed out of town.
Emma had been silently staring out the side window, her fingers plucking at the hem of her uniform shorts while Brandon did his best to keep his eyes on the road and not the creamy length of her thigh. She turned her head and frowned, her gaze meeting his before skittering away again.
“I’m still looking.” She hated lying but she had no choice.
When she didn’t elaborate, Brandon tried to draw her out. “Is there anything I can do?” he offered. “I have some business connections back in Nevada. I could—”
She was already shaking her head. “Thanks, but no. I’ll find her.”
“I hope your reunion, when it comes, is everything you want it to be,” he said as he slowed for a turn. And he hoped the mother she found turned out to be more maternal than his had been. Brandon thought about the day he’d received the report from the private investigator he’d hired to find his birth parents. Suddenly the hope he’d harbored all his life was dashed by the reality of who his parents were. Sheila Parker—he still couldn’t bring himself to call her his mother—had been a Vegas showgirl, a star wannabe, who’d had a one-night stand with a young Larry Kincaid during one of his frequent gambling sprees. Though she’d given birth to Brandon, she resented how a baby would shackle her star ambitions. Hoping Larry would take the boy off her hands, she contacted him. But all Larry had done was send her on her way—with a check for a hefty sum. Apparently Sheila had kept the money and then promptly dropped off her infant son at a social services office, going on with her career without looking back. A career that went nowhere. Still, Sheila never came looking for the son she’d given away.
Brandon shook himself out of his personal reverie. “Women give up their babies for a lot of different reasons,” he forced himself to say, keeping his own story to himself. “Some selfish and some not.”
Her eyes glistened. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. “I know.” Her voice was low as she studied her clasped hands.
Relieved that she didn’t ask about his mother, he didn’t know what else to say, so he fell silent.
It was a good thing he was preoccupied with his driving, Emma thought. Otherwise he might have read in her expression the bitter disappointment she still felt.
For a moment she considered telling him about Lexine. Unburdening herself to someone would be such a relief. Then she immediately reconsidered. How would Brandon react to the information that he was in the company of the daughter of a multiple murderer who had killed a couple members of his new family? Emma had a pretty good idea.
So far she had kept her relationship to Lexine a deep, dark secret. There was no telling how people would feel about Emma if they knew the truth. She’d had nightmares about her tires getting slashed, being evicted from her apartment, losing her job, and being run out of town by an angry mob after the news leaked out. She wasn’t ready for the loathing she might see in Brandon’s eyes once he realized the significance of her birth mother’s identity.
After Emma had been to see Lexine at the prison, she’d worried that Lexine herself might spread the word, but as far as Emma knew, that hadn’t happened. Considering the way their first meeting had ended, there didn’t seem to be any point in a return visit. After searching for so long, Emma wasn’t quite ready to put Lexine out of her life for good.
As she drove through the outskirts of Whitehorn with Brandon, he managed to dig some change from his jeans’ pocket. With one hand on the wheel, he laid several nickels and two dimes on the leather armrest between them.
“What’s that for?” Emma demanded, her voice sharper than she had intended it to be.
“Your thoughts,” he replied. “The way you were frowning, I figured they had to be worth more than a penny.”
She studied his profile, wishing she were able to read his mind and know his intentions. “Where are you taking me?” she asked when she noticed their surroundings.
“We’re going to the ranch,” he replied. “I thought you might like to look around.”
Emma glanced down at her uniform in horror. She’d spilled soup on her T-shirt that morning and the black shorts made her legs look ghostly pale. “I don’t want to meet anyone!” she exclaimed. What would his family think?
“Relax. Garrett and Collin have gone to an auction in Bozeman. Leanne and Cade are out of town. Everyone else is out moving cattle today.” He glanced at her curiously. “Do you ride?”
Emma shook her head. As had so many little girls, she’d gone through the horse-loving stage, but there hadn’t been money for lessons. “’Fraid not.”
“This is horse country. If you stick around, you might want to learn.” He didn’t offer to teach her, but perhaps he didn’t figure their relationship would last long enough for that.
“Maybe,” she replied doubtfully. Close up, horses were awfully big.
“Back to my original question,” he said. “What were you thinking about with such a serious expression on your face?”
“I was wondering how you’ve been.” Her mental fingers were crossed. “That’s all.”
“I’ve been spending most of my time on very dull business.”
And the rest of it? she wondered with a jealous twinge. Better not to go there. Emma knew he was an investment banker, but wasn’t sure exactly what that meant except it was obvious the job paid well. “Your career might not seem dull to me,” she remarked. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Basically I put groups of people with money to invest with companies that need it. Think of me as a matchmaker. I seem to have a knack for spotting investments with potential.”
“Not bad for a boy who came through the foster care system,” Emma said lightly, wondering as soon as the words were out whether she should have brought up the subject. He might regret having told her.
He shrugged off her comment. “I’ve done okay.”
“You put yourself through college?” she asked. With the support of the Stovers, she’d earned a teaching degree, but plans to use it had been put on hold while she searched for her birth mother.
“I had help,” he replied. “Luckily I was pretty good at sports in high school. One of my coaches encouraged me to pursue an athletic scholarship.”
“I doubt your rise to success was anything as simple as you make it sound. You must have worked your tail off.” Knowing how far he had come made her wonder what he saw in her. She didn’t think she’d mentioned attending college.
“I worked hard enough,” he said in reply to her comment, “but I had a few breaks along the way.” He glanced at her again. “Not everyone gets those.”
Before Emma could figure out whether his remark was aimed at her, he slowed again and turned through an open gate.
“This is it,” he said as they drove over a cattle guard and headed down a well-maintained dirt road. “Welcome to what my grandfather envisions as the Kincaid spread.”
The f
irst thing Emma saw was a sprawling ranch house. Farther down the road were more buildings, and a windmill. They were surrounded by a sea of grass and an occasional tree. A row of fence posts disappeared into the distance.
“It’s huge,” she exclaimed as they passed the main house. “Does your grandfather think the sale will go through?” At the café she’d overheard the gossip about Garrett Kincaid’s battle with Jordan Baxter. Both men wanted the ranch, but lately Baxter had been bragging that he had the law on his side. He’d gone so far as to file a lawsuit to block the sale to the Kincaids.
“Garrett isn’t used to being crossed when he wants something,” Brandon said as they reached a Y in the road and he took the branch that veered away from the outbuildings. “And he wants this ranch.”
This road was narrower, little more than two ruts bordered by tall grasses. “Aren’t you worried about your paint job?” Emma asked.
Brandon arched a brow. “It’s only a car,” he drawled as they drove up a hill. “Would you rather we had switched to the Jeep? I thought you might get cold without a jacket.” The spring day was sunny, but a breeze stirred the trees.
His thoughtfulness surprised her, and yet it was like him to notice the little things even as he completely missed the bigger ones, like staying in touch with someone after you’d spent the night with her.
“That frown is back,” he remarked, brushing her forehead with his thumb as they crested the hill. “Maybe the view will erase it.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he shut off the engine and got out of the car.
Emma rolled down her window and waited until he came around to her door. After he’d opened it for her and she’d gotten to her feet, he stood looking down at her so intently that she thought he was going to kiss her.
“You know, you were pretty before,” he murmured, “but you’re even prettier now.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was ragged as she stepped around him and walked over to stand between two trees on the edge of the hill. He came up beside her, but he made no move to touch her.
The hill on which they stood was high enough to give her a better view of the ranch spread out below. Brandon pointed out the two-story bunkhouse, the equipment shed and the old barn. A surprising number of black and brown cattle, many with calves, were scattered over the surrounding countryside as far as she could see. The sun was brighter now, its warmth bathing Emma’s bare arms even as a breeze lifted her hair with inquisitive fingers.
“It’s nice up here,” she said, trying to relax and failing utterly. “Even so far away, the house looks enormous.”
“You can tell there have been additions over time,” Brandon replied. “The place sat vacant for a while, too, until Garrett opened it and fixed it up. It’s in pretty good shape now, all seven bedrooms plus.”
Emma tried to imagine the interior of a house that big and failed. She wondered if she would ever have the chance to see the inside. It depended on him and what he wanted from her. If he thought she’d be willing to sleep with him whenever he came around, and be ignored the rest of the time, he was cruising for a major disappointment.
“I’ll show you through it sometime,” he said carelessly, turning to look at her. “Would you like to stretch your legs a little bit or are your feet sore from work?”
Again she noted his thoughtfulness. “Walking sounds like a good idea.” Anything to dispel her sudden attack of nerves.
They turned and strolled back past the car, its black surface covered with a fine layer of dust. If Brandon noticed, he didn’t act concerned.
“I made a mistake with you,” he said when the silence between them threatened to grow awkward.
Emma’s stomach dipped alarmingly. Was he going to tell her that he regretted making love to her? No, she realized almost immediately, he wouldn’t have been so persistent if that was all he’d wanted to say.
“What do you mean?” she asked as she kept walking. In the shade of the trees, the early spring grass was thinner and softer. Her heart was thudding and she was trying to figure out how to deal with whatever he might tell her.
Brandon gripped her upper arm gently and turned her to face him. “I didn’t think I’d miss you, but I did,” he said bluntly. “I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else since I left you.”
The frank admission was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Emma searched his face, but she had no idea what he was thinking. As usual when she was this close to him, she felt the strong pull of attraction, so difficult to ignore. It sucked at her will, her ability to think coherently, at any thought she’d had to resist him.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.
Immediately his eyes narrowed and his gaze dropped to her mouth. He leaned toward her, but one last burst of defiance propelled her backward as she struggled against the sensual spell being woven around her by his nearness. He straightened abruptly, a blush skating along his cheekbones.
“When I said I missed you, I wasn’t kidding.” His voice was low and rough. “But I especially missed this.” Arms at his sides, he tipped his head again, giving her plenty of time to retreat if that was truly what she wanted. His hungry gaze was locked on hers, the desire that darkened his eyes feeding her own. She hardly noticed that she’d angled her chin in response to his slow descent.
When there was no more than a breath of space between them, he stopped, hovering so tantalizingly close that she nearly moaned with frustration. Then she realized he was leaving the final decision up to her. Boldly, Emma closed the last millimeter herself.
The touch of his lips was firm and dry. Emma’s mind fogged as his mouth heated on hers, moving in a dance of seduction that stole her breath. She braced her hands against his chest to steady herself, surprised to feel his heart thudding beneath her palm. Still he didn’t lift his arms, but she felt him tremble.
Memories of his lovemaking swirled in her head, hopelessly tangled with the feelings he was raising in her now so very, very effortlessly. A small sound broke loose in her throat as she crowded closer, sliding her hands around his back and easing her soft curves against the hard wall of his chest as she sought his heat.
Desire fisted Brandon’s hands at his sides as he struggled with the urge to crush her against him and plunge his tongue deep into her sweet mouth. Slow, he thought. Take it slow.
Only the certainty that he hadn’t yet earned back the right to claim her kept him from laying her down in the grass right this minute. That and the very real possibility that she would reject his advances. Ruthlessly, he held himself in check.
Since the beginning of high school, when he had suddenly shot up to his present height and acquired a few muscles, rejection hadn’t been a big issue in his life. If a girl didn’t return his interest, he moved on with no hard feelings. His unwillingness to do so with Emma made him nervous. Extremely nervous.
As he struggled now to overcome the insistent urge to mate, the iron control he had honed like a weapon through the years began to slowly reassert itself over his more primal instincts.
Through the cloud of sensation enveloping Emma, she became gradually aware of Brandon’s withdrawal. Blinking, she realized she was draped over him like a cat on a heating pad. She straightened as a blush seeped into her cheeks. Now—finally—his hands came up to steady her.
“Are you all right?” His voice was raw, as though it had been scraped against something rough.
Until she got her breath back, she could only manage a quick nod of her head. He let her go and turned away, muttering a pungent curse under his breath. With a hand that was not quite steady, he rubbed the back of his neck.
Even as inexperienced as she was, Emma realized that the passion they ignited in each other was quite extraordinary. But for her at least, passion alone wasn’t enough. There had to be more. Brandon knew quite a bit about her, but what did she know about him? Not much, starting with why he’d brought her here.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with a frown.
Emma searche
d his face, looking for some to clue what he was feeling, but his expression was carefully shuttered. She suspected it was the same face he wore when he was closing a business deal or holding a winning hand of cards.
“Do you play poker?” she blurted, and then she bit her lip to keep sudden tears at bay.
His frown deepened. “What?” He sounded baffled by her change of subject.
“There’s so much I don’t know about you.” She thought of Lexine. They both had their secrets.
“I’d say we got pretty close back at your place.” His tone was dry. “That counts for something.”
There was no mistaking his meaning. Fresh heat bathed her cheeks. “It’s not enough, not by itself.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “If you’re afraid I’ll disappear again without letting you know, I’m telling you now it won’t happen.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Was she pushing him too hard?
“Then what do you want?” he demanded, frowning.
“Time,” she said decisively. “I want to get to know you.”
“Seems like you know me pretty intimately already,” he drawled.
Emma ignored his comment. How could she have slept with someone she didn’t trust to understand about Lexine?
“Do you honestly think we can go back to square one?” he asked.
“I hope so,” she whispered.
While they were talking, dark clouds had boiled up from the west. Now the sun was abruptly blotted out. Brandon looked at the sky.
“It appears we may be in for some rain. Let’s head back to town.”
Disappointed in his lack of response to her request, Emma followed him glumly back to the Lexus. As he was holding the door for her, the storm broke overhead. Emma scrambled into the car and he hurried around to the driver’s side. Fat raindrops pounded the roof and splattered the windshield.
In minutes the dirt road had turned greasy and slick. Emma breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached the pavement. As they drove back to Whitehorn, windshield wipers on high and the stereo on low, the silence lay between them like a heavy layer of fog. The weather, Emma thought as she stared out the side window, almost exactly matched her mood.