by Barb Han
He brought his right hand up to her neck, his thumb resting on the base where her pulse pounded wildly, matching the tempo of his own. With one small forward step the gap between them disappeared. That one move, seemingly so insignificant, was gasoline-poured-onto-a-fire hot. The air crackled around them with the intensity of burning embers.
The kiss, meant to build a bridge of trust, had knocked Hudson completely off balance. Right, extending an olive branch. That was all he was doing and not satisfying a primal urge he’d felt since he first set eyes on her.
Whatever his motive, the earth shifted underneath his feet and his heart shot a warning flare. Keep this up; get into serious trouble.
Pulling back was difficult but necessary. Looking at those pink lips when he did was a mistake but one he made anyway. Hell, why not? He was racking up errors in judgment today. What was one more?
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he said sternly. She looked at him like she wasn’t sure whom he was trying to convince, him or her.
“It won’t again,” she said with similar conviction.
“Back to the case.” He took a step back and searched the countertop for his cup of coffee, thinking that he liked the taste of it on her tongue better. Somewhere along the way, he’d set his mug down but couldn’t remember when or where for the life of him. He spied it next to where he stood before the kiss—a kiss that he tried to convince himself meant nothing. Tell that to the beating lump in his chest, hammering wildly against his ribs.
Hudson topped off his mug and took a sip. “Where were we?”
“I was about to tell you something that can’t leave this room.” Madelyn didn’t meet his gaze this time as he examined her.
Difficult truths were more easily admitted sitting down, so he led her to the round table off the kitchen.
She sat there for a minute and he didn’t speak. She seemed to be pulling on all her strength to say what was on her mind and he had no plans to intrude. This was the look victims got before they told their stories. Hudson’s stomach lining twisted thinking about her in those terms. He didn’t like thinking of her in any way other than the strong, capable and intelligent woman she was.
“Ed Staples is Mike Butler’s attorney. He summoned me to Cattle Barge with the promise of telling me something I’d want to know.” Her voice was even and it seemed to be taking all her energy to keep it that way as she stared out the window. “I thought he was going to give me a scoop, you know, an exclusive. In hindsight, I guess I should’ve realized that I was being set up.”
She stilled and Hudson didn’t so much as make a sound. Frighten her away now and she might disappear into the woods like a hunted deer, and never return. For reasons Hudson didn’t want to examine, he needed to know why Ed Staples had contacted her.
A sharp sigh pealed from her lips before she continued. “What I’m about to tell you hasn’t been confirmed, or, at least, I haven’t had any tests run to prove or disprove it.”
Hudson nodded encouragement for her to continue. She needed the space to do that on her own terms, so he patiently waited with his eyes cast down.
“And it can’t leave this room. I mean, it will get out eventually and will be big news, but I need your word that you’ll keep this between us for now,” she stated.
“You have it,” he responded, making eye contact. She needed to know how seriously he took his promises.
“Basically, if I’m to believe Ed Staples then Maverick Mike Butler is my father.” Madelyn crossed her arms tightly. Her shoulders tensed. Muscles around her eyes tightened. Looking at her, it was like a wall was coming up between them. Her face lost expression and he understood that she was distancing herself from what might be the truth, like he’d seen so many victims do while recounting their stories.
The admission sat in the air between them, too thick to wade through at the moment. Money always topped the list of motives. Greed ranked right up there with crime-of-passion killings. Based on her expression while telling him the news, she hadn’t seen any of this coming. She was telling him now because she obviously believed someone wasn’t happy with this revelation. A good reporter would easily clue into motivation. “Who knows about this?”
“Besides the two of us?” The blank stare overshadowed all the heat and intensity that had been on her face only moments ago. It was like she’d faded out. A washed-out version of her sat in front of him as though someone had scrubbed all the vibrancy and color out of her face. And yet she was still beautiful.
Hudson nodded.
“Ed Staples.”
* * *
“STAPLES, THE BUTLER family attorney, summoned you to Cattle Barge to tell you Mike Butler is your father?” Hudson asked, and she shared the shock on his face that he quickly tried to cover.
“Yes.”
“On your way to receive the news someone runs you off the road.” He seemed to be thinking out loud because he was staring at his coffee mug. “And then—what?—you come back to your room to a threatening message.”
“That’s right,” she admitted.
“My question is simple. Why not shoot when the driver had the chance?” Hudson pushed his chair back from the table and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I wondered the same thing.” She shrugged.
“Let’s go back to the beginning. When I first met you there was a possibility that your ex was behind this. Is there any way, in your mind, he could be involved?” His gaze came up to meet hers and she had to fight with everything inside her not to give away how tenuous her hold on her emotions was. The tether, however small, attaching her to logic and reason was a lifeline she couldn’t afford to snap.
“What would he have to gain?” she asked.
“Good question. For now, we’ll set him aside as a suspect.” He took a sip of coffee before setting his mug on the table. “I need to talk to Ed Staples.”
“I doubt it’s him. He knew my phone number, and my address was right there on the letter he gave me. Why call me in the first place? I mean, if he wanted to get rid of me I would’ve never seen it coming. My guess is that someone besides the three of us knows about this...possibility.” She didn’t bother to hide the frustration in her voice. It wouldn’t do any good. The life she’d known for thirty years was over if this was true. Then again, wouldn’t it be just like a self-centered billionaire to lie about something just to manipulate the lives of others? But what good would that do now that he was gone? “Before I do anything else, I need confirmation that he’s my father.”
“Ed Staples didn’t provide proof?” His brow shot up.
“I have no plans to take someone else’s word on it. I’ll need a few days to arrange testing on my terms. I’m not even sure how to go about it yet, so I have to do a little research first,” she continued. A little seed of hope that this could all be a bad dream was blossoming somewhere deep inside her.
“What about your mother? Can you ask her?”
“She died when I was born, so, no.” The sadness in her voice caught her off guard. Her hand came up absently to toy with the dragonfly necklace. If Mike Butler was her father that meant she knew even less about her mother. Her father had made the subject off-limits, but the knowledge her mother had died because of negligent hospital practices had driven so many of Madelyn’s choices. She didn’t need Freud to tell her why she’d taken a job as an investigative reporter. She wanted to give answers, peace, to other families. She wanted others to avoid dangerous situations being covered up by hospitals, businesses and crooks. She wanted to protect people from the kind of pain she’d experienced.
“I’m sorry,” Hudson said quietly with a gentleness that threatened to crack the wall Madelyn had built to protect herself.
“It’s all I’ve ever known, so...” There had been countless times in her life that she’d wished for her mother. When she was a little girl she
used to imagine what it would be like to have a real mom for a few hours, days, years. Madelyn had played the what-she-would-trade game more times than she could count. There were times when she would’ve traded years from her own life for just a few minutes with the woman. Madelyn had grown up believing her mother had been a saint. She’d built the woman up to angelic status. From a child’s eyes, her mother could do no wrong, and she’d carried that belief into adulthood. So, this betrayal hurt like hell and a piece of her still wanted to cling to the fantasy where her mother was perfect.
A thought struck—a dark thought—and the devastation must’ve shown on her face because Hudson scooted his chair toward her and took one of her hands in his.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I was just wondering if my father knew that I might not be his biological child. Or did my mother have an affair and hide the truth?” A tear escaped because it would explain so much about their relationship. The cowboy thumbed it away. Contact caused her stomach to quiver.
Of course, if her father—could she even still call him that until she knew one way or the other?—had known the truth, it could be the reason he’d kept her at arm’s length all these years. Did he resent her for not being his child? For causing her mother to die?
“Is he...?” Hudson didn’t seem to want to finish the sentence, so she did it for him.
“Dead? No. He’s very much alive.” If she could call it that. He maintained the same boring routine since she could remember—up by 5:00 a.m., breakfast, work until after 7:30 p.m., dinner. Bed. Sundays, he worked around the yard and stayed in the garage most of the day.
“But you don’t want to ask him?” That brow arched again.
“It’s complicated.” She blew out a breath.
“So, we focus on who stands to lose if you stick around,” he said, and she was thankful that he’d redirected the conversation.
She’d have to deal with her emotions later, and if the revelation was true, she figured she’d be dealing with them on some level for the rest of her life. How did anyone process or reconcile a deception of that scale? Her entire identity had been shattered the minute Ed Staples had handed her that letter.
Madelyn’s cell buzzed and the noise made her jump. She scanned the countertops for her purse. Where had she set it down?
“The racket is coming from over here,” Hudson said, making a move to get up.
“I got it.” The words came out more sharply than she’d intended. “Sorry.”
Hudson didn’t respond as he gripped his mug and refilled his coffee.
Madelyn located her phone and glanced at the screen. She had six text messages from her ex.
“Everything okay?” Hudson asked.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“I’ve come to learn that word means just the opposite. I take it the messages are from someone you’re not anxious to hear from,” he said. He leaned against the counter as he studied her face.
She didn’t want to be under scrutiny right now. Exhaustion made it difficult to fake a smile, let alone lift up the phone.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Don’t go to any trouble,” she said. “I doubt I could eat anything anyway.”
“I’m not much in the kitchen but I can throw something on the grill. Won’t take half an hour and that’ll give you time to clean up and rest before supper,” he said.
“A shower does sound amazing right now,” she offered and under normal circumstances would’ve enjoyed the quick glance of appreciation. He’d kissed her before but that was most likely to keep her from becoming hysterical. But an attraction? Her body reacted to him every time he was close, and even though they couldn’t act on it, she felt satisfied to know that he was having a similar reaction to her.
He was, right?
Or was she just seeing something she wanted to see?
After her relationship with Owen had gone the way it had, she wasn’t feeling the most confident in her decision-making ability when it came to the opposite sex. Besides, she’d touched the stove. Been burned. And had no plans to step into the kitchen anytime soon, not even for a man who made her pulse pound wildly by just being in the same room with her.
Besides, she didn’t even know the cowboy beyond the surface and a simmering attraction. And her life had just been turned upside down, which was probably why she was fabricating a relationship in her mind with him when she needed to take a step back so she could sort out the craziness.
The worst part?
She was still thinking about how right the world had felt when he pressed his lips to hers and all the background noise disappeared.
“Madelyn?” The cowboy’s voice was low, concerned, like if he spoke too loudly he might startle her.
He did and she jumped anyway, quickly reining in her emotions.
“Forensics will most likely find a print in your room and this will be cleared up before you know it,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to, but if you stand in that spot much longer I’m going to be tempted to kiss you again.”
“Which way did you say the shower was?” she asked.
He pointed to the hallway behind her.
Scooping up her overnight bag, she spun around and marched toward it.
Every ranch-style house she’d been in had the same layout, so she’d only asked to test if she could trust her voice. Because she wanted the cowboy’s lips on hers again. But wanting and doing were two different things and she needed to keep a clear head.
It was most likely the stress of the day that had her wanting to feel his big strong hands on her again, roaming her body and getting to know every inch of her.
Or something else that she couldn’t afford to consider. Something that had her gripping her bag and trying to decide if she should march into that kitchen or go against every urge inside her and force herself into the bathroom.
Madelyn released the bag, causing it to tumble onto the floor. Then she stalked into the next room.
Chapter Seven
A cold shower went a long way toward cooling Madelyn’s skin and helping her refocus. She toweled off and moved into the adjacent bedroom.
She could tell that Hudson wasn’t kidding about his grilling skills, based on the smells wafting down the hall while she dressed. Freshly brushed teeth and clean clothes had her feeling like her old self again. Almost. A part of her wondered if she’d ever be that person again.
Since going down that road before she had proof was as productive as trying to take notes using a dead branch, she checked her cell. Still no calls from her father and there was an odd comfort in that fact. Well, she guessed he was still her father. What if he wasn’t? If Mike Butler was her biological father she had no one left: both of her parents would be dead. She seriously doubted his four children would be thrilled by her presence. Heck, one or all of them could be behind the threat. The guy in the white sedan could’ve followed her to the motel, written the note when she was on her way to the ranch. The Butlers could’ve hired someone to chase her away.
Madelyn didn’t realize how tightly she’d been gripping her phone until she caught a glimpse of her knuckles, which were bone-white. On a deep intake of air, she pushed off the bed and strode into the kitchen.
“Steaks are ready,” Hudson said.
On the table were two plates of steaks, grilled asparagus and mushrooms, along with what looked like hash brown potatoes. So, he was gorgeous and could cook. Most women would consider they’d hit the jackpot if a man like him made dinner, and normally she would, too. Now, however, Madelyn’s thoughts couldn’t stray far from her circumstances.
“Didn’t have enough time to bake those.” He motioned toward the plate containing the potatoes.
“Are you kidding? Hash browns are my favorite,” she said with more enthusiasm than she’d expected. “Sorry, I m
ust be hungrier than I realized.”
“You’re kidding, right? Because I know you didn’t just apologize for appreciating what I cooked,” he said with a smile that could seduce a room full of women with one flash. Her included, based on the way her heart fluttered.
She needed to keep that in mind and her emotions in check because an attraction with a man who kept secrets was right up there with asking to be tied up and thrown in the ocean. “Do you normally have two steaks ready to go?”
“Not usually, no.” He motioned toward the table, for her to take a seat as he pulled her chair out for her.
And then it dawned on her that he’d been expecting company. Of course he would be. He was gorgeous and with that voice—a deep rumble with just enough cadence to let her know he was full-blooded Texan. His name seemed familiar, she realized now, but she couldn’t place the reason and half figured her imagination was at work.
“I’m sorry if I messed up your plans,” she quickly added with an apologetic look as her cheeks flamed. He was being kind but he had a life and probably someone special. The thought struck her as odd that this stranger knew so much about her and she knew very little about him. She glanced around the room, looking for any signs of a female presence; a man as good-looking as Hudson must have a girlfriend.
“No problem.” He wasn’t giving up a whole lot, either.
Madelyn sat at the table, unsure she’d be able to eat half of her plate, so she surprised herself when fifteen minutes later the entire plate was clear.
“You didn’t say much during dinner.” He motioned toward the plate. “I’m guessing the steak was okay.”
“Better than that. It was amazing.” Her stomach was happy, the kind of happy that came with a satisfying meal. Being with the strong, capable cowboy settled her nerves enough to relax. The smile he gave warmed her in places she couldn’t afford to allow. Those were a few more things she didn’t need to notice about the mysterious man.