Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series) (33 page)

Brad eyed her dubiously. "I'm surprised you remember."

Justine shrugged. "It's something I learned on the way up. Remembering names, body language, knowing when someone's lying or hiding something. Why they're hiding it. Who's sleeping together. All part of the game. Sometimes it comes in handy."

"What did you learn about Elsa Moroz?" Brad asked.

"That she was keeping something from you," Justine replied. "She said she was in the military, but someone in the military would say they were in the Army or Air Force, or whatever branch they were in. Also, when you asked if there was someone who could take Sophie, she hesitated, and her eyes shifted nervously when she told you there wasn't. She was also good at deflecting questions. When you asked why Yvette didn't try to contact you, she asked why you didn't contact Yvette. Maybe Yvette didn't contact you because she was married."

Brad tried to remember if the subject of marriage had come up. It had with him. He made it clear he was divorced. He also told her he didn't do married women. That much, he remembered. Thinking back, when he asked if she'd ever been married, she answered him by slithering up his body and kissing him like there was no tomorrow. For what? To distract him? She had. The subject of marriage never came up again. Four days later, when she left him on the platform at the train station, he thought he meant something to her, that they'd one day pick up where they'd left off. He'd given her his address so she could contact him, but she never did.

"There was also Elsa's claim that she sent you a letter that never arrived," Justine said. "I didn't think then, and I don't think now, that she ever sent a letter. I think she grabbed Sophie and left in a rush and came straight here. Maybe it was to keep her away from whoever the man is. She also knew you were staying here, and the ranch has a phone. She could have contacted you that way."

Brad couldn't deny any of what Justine said. As he paced the floor, he said, in a reflective tone, "If Yvette was married when she got pregnant, the man could have a legal claim on Sophie. I need to find out more about him. I don't want someone taking Sophie, especially someone Elsa Moroz was concerned enough about to take Sophie away where he wouldn't find her."

"What about the box Elsa gave you?" Justine asked. "Is there anything in it that might give some indication whether Yvette was married?"

Brad shrugged. "I don't know. I only looked in it once. I saw Sophie's birth certificate that listed me as her father and never went through the rest of the stuff."

"Then you should now," Justine said.

Brad went to his bedroom and returned with the box and unfolded the flaps on top. After setting the birth certificate aside, he fingered through the contents, mostly mementoes, a pouch with jewelry, and numerous photographs lining the bottom of the box. Lifting them out, he glanced though them, finding photos of Yvette with Sophie, some of Yvette and a man and a woman he assumed were her parents, and a few of Yvette as a baby, and as a toddler, and one close to the age she was when he last saw her. He looked in the box again, and saw, laying against the bottom, a plain envelope. Lifting it out, he saw that it was sealed, with the words hand written across the front in ink:
For Brad Meecham, upon my death
.

Brad stared at the envelope for an inordinate amount of time. The thought that Yvette felt it necessary to seal something in an envelope for him, upon her death, was disturbing, almost as if she were expecting something to happen.

She was killed by a hit-and-run driver.

He wondered now if the police ever learned who the driver was. Yvette's sister never volunteered the information, and he never asked. The idea that Yvette might have been run down on purpose by someone who had something to gain by her death was troubling.

Taking a knife from the kitchen, he sliced open the envelope, unfolded the single page, hand-written in what he presumed was Yvette's hand, and began to read the words that were addressed directly to him, allowing Justine to read over his shoulder as he did:

Dear Brad, You will not be reading this letter unless something has happened to me. The reason I never contacted you after I left Macedonia was because I was married. I know I should have told you at the time, but I didn't. I have no excuse. But when I was with you those four days I didn't expect to get pregnant either, and now that I have your child, a daughter I named Sophie, I don't intend to burden you with her. She's my responsibility. However, when I learned I was pregnant, my husband knew the child could not be his, and he left me. We were divorced before Sophie was born so I put your name on her birth certificate. However, Sophie will come into some inheritance if something happens to me, and my ex-husband might try to claim her as his, since I was married to him at the time I became pregnant, and therefore Sophie could be legally his. But he'd only be claiming her so he could take control of Sophie's money. The trust is set up so that her father, which is you since I put your name on the birth certificate, would be the trustee for the account. My ex-husband's name is Harrison Patel. Yes, I was going by my married name when I was with you. I don't regret the four days we had together, only that I led you to believe I wasn't married. I knew you needed me at the time, but I also needed you. I was lonely. Please take good care of Sophie. Maybe someday you can tell her some of the good things you might remember about me. I leave that up to you. Regretfully, Yvette.

Brad sat staring at the letter. He'd lived in a fantasy world for almost six years, believing he and Yvette might one day pick up where they'd left off. Yet, from the beginning, she knew it would not go beyond the four days they had together. Her confession brought closure to his fantasy of one day finding her and marrying her, but it also brought up another issue. Her untimely death. A hit-and-run? Or murder?

Justine touched his arm. "This might explain why Elsa Moroz never contacted you before showing up. She didn't have time. Obviously, she wanted to get away from Harrison Patel."

"So it seems," Brad said. "I have contacts on the east coast I consult when I need information for my books. One near Arlington, Virginia, where Yvette lived, is a private investigator. I'll hire him to find out all he can about Harrison Patel, when he was married to Yvette, when they divorced, if Patel can be connected with the driver of the hit-and-run car. He had a reason to want Yvette dead. If Yvette was concerned about him trying to take control of Sophie's trust, it must be sizeable."

"Why wouldn't Yvette have appointed her sister as trustee?" Justine asked.

"Good point," Brad replied. "Yvette never said anything about having a sister, and there weren't photos of Elsa Moroz in the box. Maybe she had some other interest in getting Sophie to me. I'll have the PI check her out too. If she's in the military that won't be hard. If she's not in the military, her name is probably not Elsa Moroz."

"What if Harrison Patel shows up with legal documents and insists on taking Sophie?" Justine asked.

"Then he'd better have a gun," Brad replied, "because Sophie's not going anywhere."

Justine looked at Brad's rigid face and knew he meant what he said. A father protecting his daughter. A man who'd stand by his family. Her estimation of Brad went up yet another notch. But a new worry entered the picture. A man coming after Sophie.

CHAPTER 10

Brad couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Justine as she romped in the snow with Sophie and Ricky. Sam Hansen had taken them for a snowshoe outing on one of the trails leading into the hills, and while he and Sam plodded along on snow shoes, they'd pulled the kids behind on sleds. Justine was a completely different woman than the one he'd first met at the lodge, two weeks before, the woman he didn't want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Now, it was hard to keep his hands off her. He was doing it, but wanting her kept him in a constant state of arousal. And there was no more sex talk. After lifting her jersey and showing him the sports bra, she'd been the model of modesty, wearing high-neck, long-sleeved jerseys and wool slacks, and a robe over her flannel gown, and even socks and slippers over her bare feet. It was about to drive him crazy.

For the snowshoe outing though, she was wearing a Scandinavian-design sweater with a bright green turtleneck jersey under it, and with her gray wool slacks tucked into tall snow boots, and a Kelly-green wool cap pulled over her ears, and not a trace of makeup on her face, she was still, without doubt, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She was also enjoying herself. When Sam first suggested they go snow shoeing, she'd opted out, but Sophie wouldn't go without her, so Justine reluctantly agreed. But it was just like when Justine petted the horse, as if a whole new world had opened up to her. Today it was a world of snow shoeing, and sledding, and being with kids. That's what surprised him most. Justine actually seemed to be enjoying herself, and there was no question the kids loved having her along.

"She's quite a woman," Sam said, as he stood beside Brad, while watching Justine playing tag with the kids.

Brad looked at Sam Hansen with a start. He knew the man and his wife were having marital problems, and he'd heard the word divorce bantered about between Grace and Justine, but for the first time, he wondered if the man was interested in Justine. The idea bothered him. "How much do you know about her?" he asked, to see what his response would be.

Sam shrugged. "She's visited here a few times, but Susan doesn't like her, so we don't see much of her during her visits. Grace talks about her a lot though. She's proud of her in some ways, but disappointed in others. The woman's too beautiful for her own good. She's also brilliant. She was valedictorian of her college graduating class, and she's well-known in the corporate world and has been written up in several publications as a woman on the rise. But every time she visits here it's between men."

"Is that why Susan doesn't like her," Brad asked, "because she—" he stopped short of saying sleeps around and said, instead, "doesn't marry the men she sleeps with?"

"Not so much," Sam replied, "mainly because when Justine's here she takes the spotlight off any woman around because she's such a stunning-looking woman."

"Yeah, I notice you're having trouble looking the other way," Brad said, realizing he was sounding like a jealous husband, even though he had no claim on Justine. But he didn't want any other man to claim her either. It was a territorial thing, the male lifting his leg and peeing on everything he wanted to claim, and at the moment he was pissing a circle around Justine to prove Justine Page was Brad Meecham's woman. At least for now.

Sam patted him on the back. "Don't worry," he said, "she's not my type. But she's not a woman most men can ignore either, except Jack. My brother's a one-woman man."

"And you're not?" Brad asked, wanting to get the man to state his position. Justine might not be his type, but he still might want to take her to bed. Maybe he already had, and that's what was behind the marital rift.

"I'm not interested in Justine Page, if that's what you want to know," Sam said, continuing to watch Justine, just as Brad was. Two males vying for supremacy.

"Not even in bed?" Brad asked, watching as Justine molded a snowball in her mittened hands and hurled it at Ricky, who caught it in the middle of the back as he ducked. Sophie laughed in childish glee, and Justine looked at the children and smiled.

"I'm not a monk," Sam admitted. "I might fantasize about her—she'd be a lively one in bed—but I'd never act on it. Besides, she's your woman if you want her."

"I don't," Brad said.

Sam turned and looked at him. "Man, you want her in the worse possible way. It's written all over your face, and she wants you too. What's the problem?"

"You're looking at it right now," Brad replied, surprised to be talking openly about Justine to Sam Hansen. He barely knew the man. But the time seemed right to say some of the things that had been bothering him, things he hadn't been able to talk about to Justine. "Would she be the kind of woman you'd want helping you raise your son?" he asked.

"Your point well taken," Sam replied. "From the way Grace talks about her, she's never stayed with a man for any length of time, and marriage for her is out. Sometimes I find it hard to believe she and Grace are sisters. Grace is the salt of the earth. Every man's dream of a perfect wife, and Jack knows it. But Justine... life would never be dull being married to her, but it wouldn't be easy sailing either. You'd never know if your time with her was about to run out."

"That's crossed my mind," Brad said.

"So has marriage," Sam stated, "and Justine isn't the kind of woman men think about with marriage in mind. Going to bed with, top of most men's list, but I've never figured out why. She's thin like a model so there's not much to grab onto."

"There's enough," Brad said, "and what she has is damn near perfect."

Sam smiled. "I haven't had the hands on, but yeah, from a distance I have to agree."

"Just don't think about the hands on either," Brad warned.

Sam laughed. "She's totally your woman," he assured Brad. "The last thing I need right now is another woman in my life, but if I were in your position I'd be asking myself, would it be better to be married to a woman like Justine for a short time, or not to have her at all? It's your call. She's definitely available to you."

Brad continued watching Justine, as he said, "I never said anything to anyone, including Justine, about wanting to marry her. How did you know? Is there something inherent in Hansen men that they can read minds?"

"No," Sam said. "Just a lucky guess. Jack thinks the two of you are right for each other. Justine's like a wayward little sister to him. He wants to see her get her personal life on track, and you're the first man he's ever singled out for her. Jack's always had the ability to read people. He can size a person up in minutes. He sized you up the first time he saw you with Justine. He told me he knew you wouldn't touch her at the spring. He said he didn't know how he knew, only that he did. He was right, wasn't he?" Sam looked at Brad for confirmation.

"Yeah, he was right." Brad let out a short, ironic laugh. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to have a woman like Justine living with you, and not sleeping with her when you know you could? She drives me crazy."

"Yeah, that happens when you're in love with someone."

Brad didn't say anything because he couldn't deny it, but he didn't want to admit it either. He just wanted the feeling to go away. "Are you still in love with your wife?" he asked, knowing it was none of his business, but sensing that Sam wanted to talk.

"I'm going through hell with Susan right now," Sam admitted, "and yeah, I still love her. She's the mother of my son, and we've gone through a lot together with him and his illness, but I've suspected for some time that she's involved with the instructor she hired several months ago to work at the fitness center we own. On the nights she works late, whenever I've dropped in he's there, and they're always alone. It's a double blow knowing I put up the money for the center, remodeling a building the way Susan wanted it, even including a private room with a couple of workout machines and a bed for resting. I went along with it, taking out a loan and giving her everything she wanted, including the bed I suspect is being used for anything but resting."

"Have you confronted her about it?"

"Yeah, Christmas morning," Sam said. "The night before, I tried to get something started and she turned her back to me and said she was exhausted from her workout. She also smelled of sex, so the next morning, when I tried to get something going again and she brushed me off, I accused her of getting it on with her instructor, and she laid into me, and I had hell to pay the rest of the day. I've gotten the silent treatment ever since, and Ricky feels the brunt of it."

"Have you talked to Jack about it?" Brad asked.

"No," Sam replied. "He went through hell when his first wife smothered his son. Lauren had a hair-trigger temper, but she claimed postpartum depression in court. The jury didn't buy it, and neither did Jack, and she went to jail. But she's still friends with Susan, which is another problem Susan and I have. I don't want the woman around, and neither does anyone else around here. Jack's finally happy, and I don't want to dump my troubles on him."

"Man, that's tough," Brad said, watching Justine laying on her back with the kids while making snow angels—arms fanning, legs splaying in and out. Why that made him horny was pretty damn difficult to explain. Except, maybe it was the angle, with her feet toward him. Legs spreading wide then coming together. Open, she was ready for him. Closed, she wanted to be more like Grace. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure he could keep his hands off her the next time they'd be alone. He was finding his resolve fading...

"Susan works out and she's as trim as the day we married," Sam continued, "and there's no question the guy has his eyes on her. Whenever I find them alone they claim they're doing maintenance on the machines, or working out exercise routines, but the signs are all there. Two nights ago I walked in unannounced and they came out of the room with the bed in it. When Susan got home later her hair was damp and I knew she'd showered there. I made the mistake of asking if she'd showered alone and she called me every fowl name in the book. I knew then she'd just come back from having sex with the guy."

"Why are you staying with her if you know she's sleeping with him?" Brad asked.

"Because I won't believe it until I find proof, and I'm not looking for proof because I don't want to find it," Sam replied. "The ostrich with his head in the sand. I'll do nothing until I walk in one night and find them going at it, then I won't be able to deny it any longer."

"Well, I know all about cheating wives," Brad said, "and about walking in and finding a man in your bed pumping your wife. It's a pretty damn sobering experience. I yanked the guy off my ex and beat the hell out him, not totally disabling him, but permanently flattening one of his balls. You might not want to wait until that happens. I'd hire a PI to do the dirty work if I were you. You're a big man. You could end up killing the guy, never mind that he's a fitness instructor. When the adrenaline rushes in you have strength you never knew you had, and if you find a man screwing your wife, you hit him where it matters and worry about it later. I remember the power behind my punches, and where I aimed. The man sued me for losing a testicle, but the jury decided the man was trespassing on my property and deserved what he got."

Sam looked at him, and said, "I'll keep that in mind, but I'm not ready to deal with it yet. Ricky's beginning to act out, hearing his parents constantly sniping at each other. It'll hit him hard because Susan's been a good mother, and I wouldn't want Ricky to know his mother was cheating on me. It could affect him with future relationships. So I'll just hold to the old idiom, let sleeping dogs lie. But maybe I'll look into hiring a PI."

"A cheating wife when there are no kids is one thing," Brad said. "But it gets more complicated when kids are involved. Until now, I hadn't given it much thought."

"Is that why you don't want to marry Justine?" Sam asked, "because you're afraid she'll cheat on you? Or is it because of your daughter?"

"Both," Brad said. "Right now, it's mainly because of Sophie, but Justine has a bad track record with men. She's looking for something she hasn't found. She thinks it's making it to the top, a full partnership with some big corporation. If she ever got married she'd always feel restless for what she had to give up. In my case, everything, because I want a full-time mother for Sophie. I won't turn the kid over to a nanny to raise, and I don't want Sophie getting attached to a step-mother who ultimately leaves her, and me."

"Well, for whatever it's worth," Sam said, "Jack's convinced Justine would never cheat on you because he believes you're the first man she's ever loved. She told Jack and Grace she'd walk away from you if that's what was best for you and your daughter. She's prepared to do that now."

"It might not be that easy," Brad said, watching Sophie lift her arms for Justine to pick her up, which Justine did, then proceeded to swing Sophie around before falling with her into a heap in the snow. Justine laughed, and her face was flushed and her eyes bright, and Sophie was looking at her like God sent a replacement for her mother.

Sam followed the direction of Brad's gaze, and said, "The longer you let it go on, the harder it'll be on your daughter when you leave here without Justine."

"Sophie won't be the only one," Brad said, images racing through his mind like a high-speed video—Justine at the hot springs reminding him of a pixie-like creature, the look on her face each time she hit him with a clever comeback, modeling her new outfit and showing him her sports bra, her tumbling with the kids. The thought that he wanted her beyond all reasoning, wanted her in his bed at night, and at breakfast in the morning, and all the times in between. Wanted her to be a mother for Sophie and a wife for him. Nothing logical or reasonable. All wishful, distorted thinking.