Hawk's Haven (2 page)

"You know, you're welcome to stay with us until you're on your feet," Elena offered.

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I could see his face. You know that sister you never mentioned, Dad. The one you threw out twenty-five years ago because she took up with a--heaven forbid-- migrant worker. Well I'm living with her and my cousin. He’d explode. I wouldn’t do that to Aunt June and you."

She wouldn’t do it to her father either, although there were moments when she wanted to lash out. The discovery of her aunt and cousin had come as a shock to Gillian. To find that they lived in a modest neighborhood, barely eking out a living by working as
a
domestic in a local hotel, while she’d grown up with every advantage, left her with a massive case of guilt.  But to realize that the father she idolized had lied to her about her own mother for most of her life had been the deepest cut of all.

As if sensing her sadness, Elena sent her a smile. "So tell me what happened in court today."

Gillian took a deep, calming breath and returned the smile. She told the story of her morning court appearance, injecting as much humor as possible, until she got to the part about the community service. That part, only Elena found amusing.

"Thomas Carter," Elena repeated with mischievous delight. "The Thomas Carter? The one they call Hawk."

Gillian feigned boredom. "You've heard of him?"

"Don't give me that.” Her cousin let out a laugh. "You told me about him yourself after that cotillion, or whatever you call those stuck up dances your father drags you to."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gillian denied, but she remembered the night clearly. Dancing with Hawk had been the highlight of an otherwise boring evening.

"Yes, you do. You said he made you so hot you wanted to strip off your sequined gown, and would have too, if he’d asked."

Her jaw dropped. There was nothing more embarrassing than having her own words come back to haunt her. Because they were close in age, Gillian had found an instant friend in her cousin, and confided in her frequently. Perhaps a bit too frequently, she thought with a smile. "I would never say a thing like that about any man. I have better breeding than that. I'm a Mayflower Descendant after all."

"Well, beggin' your pardon, Your Ladyship, but you were certainly getting down and dirty like us commoners when you were talking about that man. If you're still having problems with your memory, I'd be happy to tell you what else you said about him."

"Were you taking notes?"

"Come on Gilly, I've been waiting to see how this plays out for a few months now. It's more entertaining than the Soap Operas."

"Well, the season of The Young and the Arrogant is officially over. As far as I'm concerned, he's conspiring with the enemy.”  She’d no doubt that her every movement would be reported to her father.  "I have a couple of things to take care of this afternoon. Do you want anything from town?"

"Where are you going?"

"I want to get my computer and clothes from my father's house before he gets home. Then, I have to see about the arrangements for my exciting new teaching job.” Sarcasm veiled the apprehension she felt. She didn't know the first thing about teaching, but she knew computers. And the more she learned about men, the more she loved her computer. It never lied or tried to control her. She knew just how to turn it on, get what she needed, and then it left her alone to sleep. So, it couldn't keep her warm at night. That's why she owned a blanket.

"See ya' later.” She blew Elena a kiss on her way out the door. Her life might not have turned out the way she’d planned, but from now on, it was her life. No one would ever control her again.

* * * *

Hawk slammed the receiver in the cradle. Nothing had gone right today. His current case had been postponed for a second time and now he would have to juggle his schedule again.  On top of everything else, he was stuck babysitting a spoiled princess with an attitude. How had he offended the spirits?

He tried to recall the defiant young woman he’d seen in court today, but his mind drifted back to another time, another place. A long legged American beauty, dressed in red sequins moved gracefully in his arms. She was the perfect woman; intelligent, amusing, and incredibly sexy.  He remembered the way she’d dipped the tip of her finger in his champagne glass and dabbed the liquid seductively in her cleavage. The intimate gesture had caused a rise in his body temperature, not to mention another part of his anatomy.

The Gillian Hughes he’d known that night was everything he wanted in a woman. And a dangerous property. Aaron Hughes had made it known to all, that he’d plans for his daughter. No half -breed from a reservation would ever be considered suitable for her.

As he tried to get his mind back on his work, an argument brewed from beyond the door. His secretary, Cecilia spoke with another woman, who apparently wasn't about to take no for an answer.

Exasperation gave a desperate edge to the visitor's words. "I realize he's a busy man. Could you speak to him and set up an appointment when it's convenient? I'll call back for a confirmation."

The voice sounded familiar. Could it be? No. His imagination must be working more overtime than he was. However, she might just be Gillian Hughes. Perhaps she was looking to make a deal after all. He rose quickly from behind the mahogany desk and crossed the office before the woman could leave.

Cecilia gestured helplessly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carter. She's very persistent."

"I'm sure she is," he agreed. "Miss Hughes?"

"If this is a bad time, I can come back," Gillian said, with a politeness he hadn’t expected.

"I have a few minutes.” He waited for her to pass in front, and then closed the door behind them.

She sat demurely in the chair and absently fingered the gold cross around her neck. Her long hair was pulled back in a braid. Since her morning court appearance, she’d changed into a baggy shift and leather thongs. Quite a transformation for a woman who had once been a featured regular in the society pages. What was she trying to prove? And why?

"It doesn't suit you," he said as he sat across from her.

"Excuse me?"

"The outfit."

"Oh," she said simply. "I didn't come here to discuss my wardrobe, Mr. Carter."

"Then why are you here? I can't change Judge Miller's sentence."

She folded her hands in her lap and shifted in the chair. "I don't want you to. I want directions to the house you so generously offered."

"You plan to stay?” He couldn't hide his surprise. She apparently had no idea of the living conditions on the reservation.  Her little charade at dressing like a peasant might impress her friends, but pretending to be poor and living in poverty were two different matters.

"Then, the offer wasn't genuine?"

He shook his head. "Of course. I usually use the place myself on weekends, but I'll make other arrangements while you're there."

"That won't be necessary. I will be leaving each Friday after my class is finished. With luck, we probably won't even cross paths."

The fact that she’d tactfully expressed a lack of interest in spending time with him bruised his ego. Apparently, she held him personally responsible for the sentence. A sentence he wanted no part of.

As he gazed up, he noticed her impatient expression. "Did you say something?"

She drummed her fingers slowly against the arm of the chair. "The directions?" she reminded him.  

"How do you plan to get there?"

"Does it matter?” When he didn't respond, she raised her head. Her eyes, cobalt blue and gleaming with moisture, held the first flicker of emotion he'd seen from her. Regret, certainly, but something more.

Before he could identify the emotions, she buried them behind the same mask she’d worn that morning. He started to write the address when his mouth spoke without consulting his brain. "I'll drive you. It's too complicated and you'll never find it on your own."

"I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"You're in luck.  My schedule happens to be clear on Monday.” Hawk swallowed a groan. If he carried through with his offer he would have to reschedule two appointments. He’d only been in the woman's presence five minutes and already he'd lied to her. The idea that one of her rich boyfriends might drive her didn't s
i
t well with him, but the jury was out on why.

* * * *

"I really think I'll manage, Mr. Carter..." Gillian was about to argue further, then thought better of it. Like her father, Hawk Carter would do as he chose regardless of her wishes. "Suit yourself."

"I usually do. I'll pick you up at your house around eight a.m. Monday. You have gotten up at that hour before, haven't you?"

She smiled to hide the hurt his words caused. He apparently decided that the rumors he'd heard about her were true. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? He must have missed the course on Constitutional Law while in school.

"I often come home from a date at that time. I don't imagine there's much difference,” she said, although it was an outright lie. He would never believe that despite her socialite reputation, she’d never spent a night with any man. “However, I no longer live in Butler Square. I'll be in the lobby of the Stafford Hotel at eight
a.m.
sharp."

Hawk could report that bit of news to her father with her blessing. She wasn't going to volunteer the information that her aunt worked as a maid in the hotel. Let him and her father think she was staying as a guest rather than catching a ride Monday morning with June.

She rose and smoothed the front of her dress. Elena had brought back the soft cotton jumper, in a red and yellow batik pattern, on her last visit to her grandparents in Mexico. If Hawk didn't like her outfit, that was too bad. She’d a closet full of similar ones that she’d never been able to wear when living at home.

"Until Monday..." he said, offering his hand.

"I'll wait with breathless anticipation."

He clasped his large hand around her smaller one. A smile brightened his face and she found herself returning the warm expression in spite of her anger. "One might get the impression you weren't sincere, Princess."

"One would be very astute, Counselor.”  Although Hawk was not the first man to call her Princess, the very word made her want to cringe. She detested the title, whether used as an endearment or as ridicule. "But then, I suppose they call you Hawk because of your keen insight."

"Not exactly.” The suggestive lift of his mouth left her feeling that she might not want to know how he earned his predatorily nick-name. His sardonic glare warned her that she might find out anyway.

Chapter Two 

At exactly eight a.m. Hawk arrived in front of the Stafford Hotel. As he exited the luxury sedan, Gillian found herself drawn to his striking presence despite her determination to remain cool.  His designer jeans hugged a narrow waist and the embroidered polo player on his shirt was dwarfed by the wide expanse of his chest.  No man should look that good in the morning!

He seemed surprised to find her waiting in the lobby, standing next to an assortment of boxes and suitcases. "Did you bring everything you own?"

Gillian shook her head. "Good morning to you, too, Mr. Carter."

"I'm sorry.” He made a sweeping wave with his arm. "It caught me by surprise. I doubt you will need this much for a week.  Nightlife is limited in and around the area."

Her admiration of the man lasted only as long as he remained silent. His thinly disguised sarcasm made her want to scream. Would all conversations consist of accusations followed by explanations?

"Most of this is my computer.  Since I had no way of knowing what kind of facility I would be working at, I had no idea how much I would need. Is that a problem? Should I have it sent by truck?"

"No," he grumbled and lifted the first box. A bellboy helped, and in five minutes the car was packed. He tapped his highly polished boot impatiently against the curb and held the door open for her. "Are you ready?"

Gillian grinned. "Yes, I'm ready."

"What are you smiling at?"

"Cowboy boots on an Indian."

"Were you expecting moccasins?"

Her courage faded along with her smile. She couldn't say anything right in his presence. "I'm sorry. It wasn't meant as an insult."

Although she’d never been to the reservation, she’d met a few of the residents while in college. Most of them seemed to revel in their Native American heritage. Hawk, on the other hand, presented the image of a pompous, thirty-something yuppie. Her old Psych professor would probably say Hawk's rigid facade masked deep insecurities but the man didn't seem to have much to be insecure about.

The first half hour of the ride passed in strained silence. Gillian was afraid to say anything that might offend him again.  She relaxed in the rich leather of the bucket seat and studied the landmarks.