by Pamela Toth
“Mama!” Audra gasped. Was she threatening to tell what she knew?
Lexine sat back in her chair, her expression cold and detached. “Now get out of here. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
After Emma got off the phone with the Stovers back in Clear Brook, she decided she wanted to see the expression on Brandon’s face as she told him the good news and thanked him for all his help.
If she didn’t quit dawdling, someone else was going to spill the beans. Eagerly she called him on his cell phone. When he answered on the second ring, she breathed a sigh of relief and asked him to meet her at her apartment.
“What’s up?” he asked. “I’m out in the pasture in the ranch Jeep,” he replied. “It’ll take me a half hour to get back to the house.”
“I’d just like to see you whenever you can get here.” She was barely able to contain her excitement. When he asked if she’d talked to Elizabeth yet, she pretended the signal was cutting out and they were losing the connection.
“If you can hear me, I’ll see you at your place in a while,” he shouted, clear as day.
Smiling to herself, Emma hung up the phone and glanced at her watch. She’d have enough time to pick up a bottle of champagne, change her clothes and set the scene for a very private celebration.
As she left the office, her smile faded. It was still difficult to believe she had a sister out there somewhere, an identical twin. Still worse was the idea that her twin had apparently followed their mother into a life of crime.
Emma felt as though she had gained and lost a sister in the space of a few moments. Now, more than ever, it was important that she tell Brandon about Lexine.
She refused to let anything ruin their celebration. Time enough later for serious conversation, and for hoping his feelings for her had grown stronger than his loathing for her mother must already be.
When Brandon hurried out the front door of the ranch house, curious about where Garrett had disappeared to that morning, he nearly ran into a man standing on the porch with his hand poised to ring the bell.
“Can I help you?” Brandon asked without bothering to hide his impatience. He was in a fever to get to Emma.
The visitor was casually dressed, but there was something about his sharp, close-set eyes that alerted Brandon’s survival instincts.
“Are you Brandon Harper, Emma Stover’s boyfriend?” the man asked.
Brandon was right. Another reporter. “I have no comment,” he said bluntly. “You’re on private property, so I suggest you get your tail in gear before I kick it down to the main gate.”
The man was slightly built and he took a wary step back as Brandon advanced. “An answer to one question is all I want.” His persistence didn’t impress Brandon, who ignored his query, taking his arm instead with the intention of stuffing him back in his car.
“How do the Kincaids feel about your relationship with Lexine Baxter’s daughter?” he asked as Brandon hustled him down the walk.
“You’re nuts.” Brandon wrenched open the door to the nondescript compact. Emma hadn’t found her mother yet.
“You mean, you didn’t know?” the reporter yelped, jerking his arm from Brandon’s grasp.
“You’d better fire your sources,” Brandon snarled, grabbing for him again.
“She didn’t tell you she’s been to the women’s prison twice to visit Lexine?” the little man said, dancing away from Brandon’s reach. “She was there two days ago.” Taking a piece of paper from his pocket, he unfolded it and shoved it in Brandon’s face. “Look at this, if you don’t believe me. It’s a copy of the sign-in log from the prison. There’s her name.”
Brandon hesitated. Could that have been one of the errands Emma had insisted on running by herself? He grabbed the form, recognizing her signature highlighted in bright yellow.
His stomach clenched. Why hadn’t she told him? “Where did you get this?” he demanded.
“I have my sources.” The reporter retrieved the paper from Brandon’s numb fingers. “Tell me, Mr. Harper,” he asked in a cheerful voice, “do you think the propensity for violence can be passed on from mother to daughter, like eye color or a good singing voice? Are you willing to believe now that Emma Stover is guilty of murder?”
Barely resisting the urge to smash his fist into the other man’s grinning face, Brandon instead shoved him aside, dug out his keys and stalked to his Lexus. With the reporter hot on his tail, he headed for town.
The champagne was chilling in the refrigerator and a bouquet of daisies sat in a pitcher on the kitchen table. Emma had showered and changed into black leggings and a teal-blue top with a scoop neckline. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she’d used the perfume her folks had sent for her last birthday. A vanilla candle burned on the counter and a George Strait CD played in the background. She’d thought about pulling the bed out and decided that was too obvious.
When she heard a car pull up outside, she checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror, realized she’d forgotten to put on earrings and grabbed the gold hoops that made her feel flirtatious. By the time her trembling hands had them fastened in her ears, footsteps were thudding up the outside staircase.
Before Brandon could knock on the door, Emma threw it open. She was near to bursting with excitement.
“Rafe!” Emma’s face fell like a failed soufflé.
He must have seen her disappointment before she could hide it. “I guess this isn’t for me,” he said, with an all-encompassing gesture. “You look terrific, by the way. Am I interrupting?”
“Brandon’s coming over,” she replied warily. Hadn’t Sheriff Rawlings gotten the news?
“I won’t stay, but I heard about the charges being dropped and I wanted to pass on my congratulations.” A smile softened his harsh expression. “I’m glad for you, Emma.”
His obvious sincerity caught her completely by surprise. “Oh, don’t make me cry,” she wailed, blinking rapidly. “It will ruin my makeup.” She held the door open wider. “Would you like to come in?”
He glanced behind him. “Nah, you’re expecting Brandon. Does he know yet?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to see his face.”
Rafe gave her a searching look. “Have you told him about our mother?”
Emma dropped her gaze to the insignia over his pocket. “No.”
Rafe leaned over and lifted her chin with his finger. “If you care about this guy, you’d better tell him before someone else does.”
Emma whirled away. “Oh, how can I admit that I’m ashamed of my own mother?” Her gaze flew back to Rafe. Lexine was his mother, too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Do you think I’m proud of her?” he challenged. “If Brandon cares as much as I think he does, he’ll understand.”
In her heart, she knew Rafe was right. If Brandon cared. That was the kicker that scared her. Could he love someone like her?
“Thanks,” she murmured to Rafe, “and thanks for coming by.”
“We’ll get together real soon,” he promised. “Raeanne, Skye and I, you and Brandon.” He enfolded Emma in a big, awkward hug. For a moment she tried to absorb some of his courage and confidence. Just as she stepped back, she saw Brandon’s car pulling into the driveway.
Rafe noticed it, too. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, turning away.
He met Brandon at the bottom of the stairs as Emma watched with renewed excitement. She couldn’t see Rafe’s face below the rim of his Stetson, but Brandon’s expression when he nodded at the sheriff was unsmiling, even grim.
He was probably worried that the sheriff had come in his official capacity, she realized. He must have been reassured when he saw that Rafe was leaving, his handcuffs still dangling from his belt.
“Hi,” she called.
Brandon looked up and she forgot all about Rafe as love swelled inside her like a birthday balloon. His solemn face had grown so dear to her. He was still the most attractive man she had ever met and now that she knew him so
well, he appealed to her on many more levels that merely the physical. If only he would open up to her more, but then, who was she to begrudge him his secrets?
“I have good news,” she said, unable to wait another minute as he mounted the steps. “Elizabeth got the results from the second DNA test.”
Brandon’s hand tightened on the railing. His face was taut. “And?”
Happiness fluttered in Emma’s chest. “I’ve been cleared. The charges were dropped.”
His stern expression softened as he hurried up the stairs. “I’m glad.” His voice was gruff. When he reached the landing, Emma pulled him inside and threw her arms around his neck.
His body felt stiff in her embrace and he only held her for a moment before he set her away. “So, Elizabeth was right? You do have a twin out there somewhere?”
The idea was still difficult for Emma. “A twin who’s probably a murderer.”
“I’m sorry,” Brandon said. “That has to be tough for you. Any idea who or where she is?”
Emma could answer that question truthfully. “No, none. I imagine the sheriff will start looking into it, but there’s been some problem finding my birth certificate.”
“Speaking of Sheriff Rawlings,” Brandon said, standing over Emma as she settled herself on the couch, “why was he here just now?”
Could that be possessiveness she heard in Brandon’s voice? Even jealousy?
Emma patted the seat next to her as she smiled up at him, but he ignored the gesture, instead jamming his hands into the pockets of his tan slacks. She’d hoped to delay this discussion until after they’d cracked open the champagne, but she couldn’t keep evading the truth.
“Rafe is my half brother,” she said with a trace of defiance. “He was only stopping by to congratulate me.”
Except for a slight narrowing of his eyes, Brandon’s expression didn’t change. “Let me see,” he drawled, “does that mean you shared the same father, or is Lexine Baxter his mother, too?”
His comment shocked Emma, but she tried her best to not let her reaction show. “That’s right.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “How long have you known?”
“Not as long as you.”
“Who told you?” Emma demanded.
Brandon leaned down, bracing his hand on the arm of the couch, and stared into her face. “The question,” he said in a low voice, “is why you weren’t the one to tell me. Why have you been pretending that you hadn’t yet found her?”
Eleven
“I was going to tell you about Lexine today,” Emma said, a guilty flush heating her cheeks.
“Huh.” He managed to inject a whole load of disbelief into that one word as he straightened to his full height. “And how long have you known about her?”
She bit her lip, unable to meet his gaze. “Since before you came back.”
The silence stretched between them, the only sound in the room coming from the CD Emma had put on earlier. “You look so good in love,” George Strait sang.
Emma had a feeling that this time, love wasn’t going to be enough. To her surprise, the cushion next to her sagged as Brandon sat down.
“Who your birth mother is and what she’s done doesn’t make any difference to me,” he said. “Mine was a stripper who got involved with a married man.”
Emma was surprised by his confession. “But did she kill anyone?”
He sighed and took Emma’s hand. “Not that I know of.”
“Who told you?” she asked again.
He knew what she meant. “A reporter showed up at the ranch just as I was leaving to come here.”
It was Emma’s turn to leap up. So the news was out. Crossing the room, she switched off the CD player. Then she whirled to face Brandon. “You’re just getting to know your relatives,” she said, willing her voice to stay steady. “My mother’s identity may not matter to you right now, but believe me, it will matter to the Kincaids. It will matter a lot, and eventually it will make a difference to you, as well.” She turned and looked out the window. The street was empty, the neighborhood quiet. No one out there knew or cared that she would always remember this as both the best and the worst day of her life.
She heard Brandon get up and she could feel his nearness, but she kept her back to the room. She should have realized their relationship was doomed from the beginning by things they couldn’t change. He might say now that it didn’t matter, but she knew differently. He was a self-made man who’d overcome his beginnings to become successful, a man with ties to one of Montana’s prominent families. In time, if he and Emma kept seeing each other, he’d come to resent her sordid baggage. The smart thing to do was to break off with him now, before she fell any deeper in love.
“Emma,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. “I care about you. Right now you’re confused and upset. You’ve just been through a difficult patch, but it’s over with. Let it go.”
Before he got done talking she was already shaking her head. He cared for her. The bland phrase hurt like the sharpest sword.
“No,” she said, pulling away. “I thought we had so much in common, but I was wrong. I think you’d better go.” She thought of the celebration she’d planned and nearly lost the control she was hanging on to by a thread. “Please,” she added. “You’re right, it’s been tough and I’m grateful for your help, but now it’s over. I just want to forget about everything that’s happened and move on.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “What are you saying?”
Emma swallowed, knowing what she had to do. She’d waited for him before, all those months, not knowing whether she would ever see him again. She couldn’t go through that again. It wasn’t as though he loved her, after all.
She looked him full in the face, struggling to say the words that would send him away. She swallowed. “It just wouldn’t work between us,” she whispered, her voice ragged. “We’re too different. It’s not just Lexine, it’s everything.”
Brandon gave her one last look, brimming with some strong emotion that she couldn’t begin to read. Wordlessly he turned and walked out the door.
Emma rushed to the other window and watched him go. Not once did he hesitate or look back. Maybe he was already beginning to realize that she was right. When his car was finally out of sight, she sank down on the couch and buried her face in her hands.
“I’m sorry to rush off like this,” Elizabeth told Garrett, remorse edging her voice as she threw the few things she’d brought with her to the ranch into her bag.
He sat on the bed they’d shared the night before, watching her. One call on her cell phone and she’d shifted from the warm, loving woman he’d begun falling for the moment he first kissed her to this cool professional.
“It’s one case,” he argued. “Can’t you let it go, wait for the next one?” In the two days since she’d come to the ranch, they’d ridden into the low hills, camped out, shared a sleeping bag, talked for hours. They’d connected, or so he’d thought. He hadn’t been this happy in years.
Now she looked up with an expression of regret marring her attractive face. “Garrett, he’s a United States senator accused of killing his mistress, but I believe he’s being railroaded and I want to help him.” She leaned over him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t pout,” she chided gently. “I’ll call you.”
When he didn’t reply, she glanced at her watch. “If the driver gets here in the next ten minutes, I’ll just make my flight.” She was talking to herself now, as if she’d already left him behind. “Stella’s going by my place to pack what I need. Thank goodness I brought my briefcase along with me.”
She ducked into the bathroom for one last check as the doorbell sounded. “That’s my car,” she said as she came back out, zipped up her bag and grabbed her purse. She picked up her briefcase and Garrett carried the tote for her.
“I could have driven you to the airport,” he pointed out as he followed her down the hall, her boots clicking against the hardwood floor.
/> “I don’t like prolonged goodbyes.” At the door she reached up to kiss the air by his cheek.
Stubbornly he grabbed her, planting a kiss on her mouth, but she kept her lips closed and he could feel the tension humming through her, the shift in her focus. Disgusted by his need, he released her.
In a blur of motion and flurried words, she was gone. He wondered if his goodbye had registered with her or been lost in her instructions to the driver. As Garrett stood looking at the empty road after her limo had driven away, he was surprised to see Brandon’s car.
What was he doing back so soon? Garrett had hoped the hastily scrawled note left propped on the kitchen table was an indication that Brandon’s relationship with Emma was moving to the next level. Garrett believed in family, in procreation. He’d hoped his grandson would put down roots in Montana, and what better way than leaving his heart here in Whitehorn? Garrett hadn’t expected to see him again until the next morning at the earliest.
As Brandon got out of his car alone, Garrett went to the door to find out why he looked anything but happy.
Brandon had hoped to have the house to himself, that Garrett and Elizabeth would be out riding the range and he’d have time to figure out what the hell had just happened.
“What are you doing here?” Garrett asked as Brandon stomped through the front door. “I thought you were going to see Emma.”
The last thing Brandon felt like was twenty questions, but his grandfather had been good to him so he reached for his patience.
“Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. “I won’t cramp your style.” He opened the fridge and dug out a cold beer. He held it up to Garrett, who shook his head.
“No, thanks.”
“I’m sure Elizabeth told you about Emma.” Brandon popped the top on the beer. Then he tipped his head back and poured a third of the can down his throat. Women! Who could figure any of them out?