Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) (31 page)

She made a face. “I don’t want to talk about Zach.”

“I didn’t realize we were.”

Mariah searched her father’s eyes.

“Anyway, I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said, in much the
same way George had at the office earlier. Mariah braced herself, thinking there
was far too much thinking going on for her liking.

“I want you to come back and work the ranch with me.”

Mariah could have sworn she was hearing things. “What?” she
whispered.

Hughie shifted, apparently uncomfortable. “Okay, you want me to
do the whole bit, don’t you? Apologize for saying the things I did, telling you
that you were nothing more than a distraction, making you feel that…well, that I
didn’t appreciate you as you are. My daughter. The precious child I created with
the first woman I ever loved, your mother.”

“Oh, God.” Mariah pushed from the table, finding tears closer
to the surface than she felt comfortable with.

For long, silent moments she stood at the preparation island,
battling back the pesky dampness, attempting to regulate her breathing, and
trying like hell to figure out what was going on with everyone lately.

She nearly jumped when she felt Hughie’s beefy hand rest
against her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Mariah closed her eyes tightly and nodded.

“Good. But I don’t think it would hurt to tell you something I
haven’t said in a good long time.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I love you, baby.
More than any other person walking this earth.”

Mariah gripped the countertop tightly. Oh, God.

Finally she gave in to the battle raging within her and threw
herself into Hughie’s big ol’ arms. It had been a long, long time since she’d
done that. Lost herself in the feel of her father’s hug. Given herself
permission to be his daughter instead of the stoic little girl, then independent
woman, who didn’t want to cause him any more heartache. The girl then woman who
had barricaded her own heart against that same pain.

If you didn’t love, then you couldn’t hurt. At least that had
been the reasoning.

And it turned out she’d been right.

Only she’d never stopped loving her father. And now she loved
Zach.

“Aw, sugar,” Hughie said gruffly, awkwardly patting her hair.
“All these years I was afraid I had lost you.” He kissed the side of her head.
“Welcome back, baby. Welcome back.”

17

I
T
WASN
’
T
WORKING
.

Zach hung up the phone from where he’d been talking to a Detroit P.I. about setting up a meeting next week in the Motor City. He sat back in his chair and stared at the modest Indianapolis skyline outside his top-floor office window.

Oh, his plans to franchise Finders Keepers were going off without a hitch. It was the…other part that wasn’t working. Namely, his plan to edge Mariah Clayborn from his mind.

Zach dry-washed his face with his hands, taking minimal comfort in the rasp of skin against skin. Only the sound reminded him of running his hands over Mariah’s silky, pliant flesh. Hell, everything he did reminded him of the maddening woman. He opened the refrigerator, there was a miniature Mariah, her boots shoulder-width apart, her arms crossed and that jaunty smile on her face standing right next to the bottle of orange juice. He opened the shower curtain and there she was again, turning her face into the spray, the water sluicing down her incredible body. He looked out at the Indianapolis skyline and he saw not buildings but the endless Texas plains and there on the horizon was Mariah, her hair flying around her enchanting face as she rode a horse bareback.

“You’re losing it, Letterman.”

Zach sighed and closed his eyes. When he’d left Mariah standing alone in her driveway ten days ago, her heart in her remarkable brown eyes, he’d thought he was doing the right thing. Not just for himself, but for her. And he kept telling himself that during his four-day stay in Midland until Jennifer hired on more help, then throughout his trip back home and succeeding days, hoping that time and distance would help him.

Instead time and distance made the ache in his chest even more acute.

He eyed the telephone. Would she welcome a call from him? More than anything, he wanted to share with her the progress of his plans. Tell her what he’d been doing. Then ask her to get on the next plane up so that they could take up where they left off.

But they really wouldn’t be taking up where they left off, would they? There was no telling what effect his departure and subsequent absence had had on her. Did she hate him? Had she corralled him in with the previous men in her life, just another guy who had loved her and left her?

God, what had he done?

“Zach?” His assistant’s voice rang out over the intercom. “Call for you on line one. They wouldn’t say who it was but said it was important.”

Important?

He stared at the blinking light, his mouth going dry. Mariah? He hadn’t left her any contact information, but finding out where he was would be a piece of cake for Mariah the P.I.

“Thanks, Jan.”

He hesitantly picked up the receiver and held it to his ear before pushing the button.

“Letterman here,” he said in the strongest voice he could muster.

A long pause.

He frowned.

“Hello?”

An awkward male chuckle, then the caller cleared his throat. “Well, how do you like that?” an unfamiliar voice said. “There’s a Letterman on the other end of the line, as well.”

Zach’s stomach bottomed out. He swiveled his chair, trying to counteract the feeling of the room spinning around him. There was only one other Letterman that he knew personally. His father. And he hadn’t talked to him in over twenty-five years. Not since his dad had left him and his mother and headed off for parts unknown.

“Zachary?”

A deep breath didn’t come near to providing him the oxygen he sought. Unable to think of anything else to say, he murmured, “How did you find me?”

There was a rustling of papers on the other end of the line. “Actually, someone found
me.
She said…”

Zach’s mind whirled, leaving him completely incapable of registering the rest of his father’s words. Someone had found him. A she.

Mariah.

“Zachary?”

“This she…did she give you her name?”

“Yes. Yes, she did.” More paper rustling. “Clayborn. Mariah Clayborn.”

Zach’s stomach bottomed out and he suddenly felt hot.

All he could see was her pain-filled face when he’d kissed her goodbye. He’d been too big of a coward to actually say the words. But they’d been there nonetheless.

He’d hurt her.

Yet she’d helped him by finding his father for him.

He realized the line had gone silent, then a quiet, awkward voice filled his ear. “I know how you feel. I went through pretty much the same thing when Miss Clayborn called me at home last night at an unlisted number.” Another lengthy pause. “You don’t have to say anything now, Zachary. I understand. A lot of water has rushed under the proverbial bridge. I…I just wanted to let you know that I’d like to establish contact with you. How far, how involved that contact will be…I’ll leave up to you, son. But I’d love to see you. To talk to you. To try to explain what happened all those years ago. Tell you how big of a coward I was for not seeking you out before Miss Clayborn called me.”

Zach rubbed the back of his neck. He knew the role of coward. He’d been playing a big one for the past ten days. Much longer, if the truth be known. But it was only now that he was coming to see just how big a yellow-bellied coward he’d been.

“I’d like that,” Zach finally managed to force through his tight throat. “Where should I meet you?”

He took down his father’s contact information in Tacoma, Washington, and gave him the rest of his contact information, since Mariah had only given Barry Letterman Zach’s business number. After a few more minutes of awkward conversation he slowly hung up the phone, staring off into space as if an alien force had just zapped him with a beam, turning everything he’d thought he’d known on its ear. Changing white to black. And right to so very, very wrong.

“Oh, one more thing,” his father had said before hanging up. “Miss Clayborn asked me to pass on a message when I spoke to you.”

Zach had gripped the phone so tightly he thought he might break it.

“She said to tell you that a joint business venture might have some possibilities....”

Zach said his good-byes, then tossed down the receiver, snatched his jacket from the back of his chair and rushed out the door.

“Mr. Letterman?” his assistant asked, getting to her feet as he breezed by her desk.

“Jan, hold all calls,” he told her, pushing the button for the elevator.

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

* * *

I
T
WAS
S
ATURDAY
and for the first time in two weeks, Mariah found herself without a single thing to do.

She sighed and flipped the page of the morning paper, her hand blindly reaching for her coffee cup on the kitchen table. Ever since George had established that he wanted more work to do, she’d found her caseload suddenly cut in half. Not only was her cousin making good on his word, he was doing a damn good job to boot. And that left her with a little more time on her hands that she’d prefer not to have.

She glanced toward the open kitchen door and the plains beyond. Maybe she would take her father up on riding the range with him a couple of times a week. Lord knows she missed the feel of a horse between her thighs, the Texas sun on her back, the smell of the earth filling her senses.

And maybe it would help her forget one certain Mr. Zach Letterman.

She propped her head on her hand and sighed. Well, so much for getting through the day without thinking of his name. It was eight o’clock, she’d been up for no longer than twenty minutes and, bam, there he was again, haunting her dreams, shadowing her every step.

The doorbell rang.

Mariah looked up from the paper and frowned. Who could that be this early on a Saturday morning? Hughie had spent the night at Miss Winona’s, so she was the only one around to answer the door. The only one without a life and no sign of getting another anytime soon.

She opened the door to a deliveryman in a brown uniform.

“Morning, ma’am. Delivery for you.”

He handed her a clipboard, and she noticed the certified status of the package, then signed her name.

“Thank you,” she said absently, accepting the oblong-shaped box then closing the door. Her name and address were written across the front of it. She began to walk back toward the kitchen. That’s odd. She couldn’t remember ordering anything.

She put the box down on the table and reseated herself, grabbing her mug with both hands as she turned her attention back to the newspaper.

She was searching for any sign of suspicious crimes in the area. Any tip-off that Claude Ray was still around where she might nab him. No, not because anyone had hired her to do it, but simply because she owed him this personal debt. She turned the page again and mumbled under her breath. Tying her up in her own kitchen, indeed. Oh, she owed him big time.

A piece on one of the horses Ray had stolen from Carter, which had won some sort of prize, no doubt increasing his stud fees…a Houston businessman was throwing a charity gala for a hospital’s burn unit…the newly formed Bisbane Foundation had approved a request from a private citizen to borrow Ellie’s dress…

Mariah’s eyes widened as she read the last headline. Who would want to borrow Ellie’s dress? She rubbed her forehead then read the piece three times. It didn’t give any names, citing that the individual wished to keep his or her identity a secret.

Mariah twisted her lips. She hoped it wasn’t another fortune hunter convinced there was more out there to be found.

She closed the paper and leaned back in her chair, wondering what she should do with the rest of her day. She remembered the delivery box. Could Hughie have ordered something for her? She reached out and pulled it to sit directly in front of her. There was no return address. She checked the paperwork, noting a company name but not recognizing it. A mail-order catalog? She grimaced. She certainly hoped not. The last time Hughie had ordered anything for her she’d been sixteen and the stretch of pink ruffles that was supposed to be a dress had been more suited to a six-year-old. The offensive piece of clothing was still stuck in the back of her closet somewhere, never worn.

She tilted the box one way, then another. God, opening these things was like solving a crossword puzzle. Pull here while pushing there—oh, and don’t forget to turn the box a quarter way to the east.

She heard the sound of an approaching car engine. Hughie returning from his night out. She looked up, wondering what would happen when he finally proposed to Miss Winona. Would Miss Winona move to the ranch? Or would Hughie move to her frilly little house a few miles up the road?

She gave up on the box then picked up her coffee mug and stepped to the sink to wash it out.

“Hello, Mariah.”

Her heart did a funny little dip in her chest. Zach? She frowned, thinking it a trick of the running water. Still, she found it curious that she was hesitant to shut off the water.

A familiar hand snaked around her and shut the water off for her. Definitely not Hughie’s hand. And definitely not Hughie’s body brushing up against her backside, setting every inch of her skin ablaze.

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” Zach whispered into her ear.

Emotion swelled up in Mariah’s throat, blocking the passage of air. She stood frozen to the spot, trying to figure out how to regain control of her body. Trying to figure out how to respond.

“Turn around and look at me, Mariah.”

Hot hands on her shoulders did the job for her, gently swiveling her until she leaned against the sink and stood staring at the last man she expected to see standing in her kitchen this Saturday morning.

“Zach,” she whispered.

She stared into his eyes as his gaze swept from the toes of her boots to the top of her head. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, I, um…I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Mariah told herself she should play it cool. Act like, yes, she was surprised to see him, but that his impromptu visit affected her not at all. He was no more, no less than a friend stopping by to say hello.

Only she’d never really mastered the art of playing it cool. And Zach Letterman was so much more than a friend. And his standing there, looking at her as if he wanted to devour her, moved her down to her toes.

She anxiously licked her lips. “In the neighborhood, were you?” she asked.

That grin made her knees lock together and a rush of heat dampen her thighs. “Something like that. It took me three planes, a car rental and a helluva drive, but, yes, I was very definitely in the neighborhood.” He lifted a finger to smooth back a strand of her hair, but he stopped midway through, instead rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger as if the simple gesture mesmerized him. “You see, there’s someone I had to thank.”

“Ah,” she said.

His gaze slammed into hers at the use of the response voiced so many times during their whirlwind affair.

Affair. It seemed such an inappropriate word for what had happened between them. What they had shared.

Zach considered her through hooded eyes. “Yes, you see, there’s this friend…a really good friend, who did a favor for me. A favor I didn’t ask for. But one that I wanted without really knowing that I wanted it. And this friend, well, somehow during the brief time that I knew her, she figured this out.”

Mariah caught her breath as his hand dropped to her hip.

“I’m talking about you contacting my father, Mariah.”

She nodded, knowing that was the answer. Ever since he’d shared with her in an offhanded way that he didn’t know where his father was, she’d wanted to find him for Zach. If only to give him the chance to achieve some kind of closure. To perhaps get answers to questions that she knew had to be shadowing his every adult step. She’d begun her search with the check on Zach’s background, which turned up the name of his father, and had branched out from there. And when Zach had left…well, she’d continued the search to gain some closure for herself.

Closure Zach was ripping open all over again.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

She nodded, not knowing quite how to respond. “So everything worked out okay, then?”