Lone Stallion's Lady (10 page)

He’d never really gotten along with Blake and didn’t think he’d fare any better with the rest of his half brothers. But then, he’d always been a loner. Finding out that Larry Kincaid had been his father hadn’t changed things.

He left the room and hurried down the stairs to the den where he could bury himself in the faxes and e-mail that were streaming in. He heard Gina’s laugh follow after him and he scowled to himself at the thought of her being amused by his brother.

Man, you’ve got it bad, he thought, jealousy sneaking through his veins again. And for a woman who lied to you, hopped into bed with you and then snuck away in the middle of the night. She played you for a fool.

Inside the den, he kicked the door shut and snagged up the receiver, intent on calling his secretary, lawyer, accountant, and an outside investor, but his fingers hesitated over the buttons and he listened for the sound of Gina’s voice, only to get angry all over again.

What the hell was happening to him?

When it came to that damned woman, he seemed to be cursed.

G
arrett mopped the sweat from his brow and swatted at a bothersome mosquito that wouldn’t leave him alone. Walking through the orchard, he paused and looked back at the main house where patches of light glowed from the windows as dusk settled over these vast acres he’d worked so hard to keep in the family name. “I think I might have made a mistake,” he admitted to no one in particular, though he realized he was thinking of Laura again. God, he missed her and at times like this, when he needed help wrestling with a decision, the ache within him was raw; as if she’d left this earth just yesterday rather than years earlier.

The old dog that was padding after him whined and Garrett reached down to scratch the shepherd’s ears.

“Yes,” he said, imagining his wife’s encouraging smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it was a good idea to find all our grandsons, but I didn’t expect some of the complications. Jordan Baxter’s making noise that he was cheated out of this place and I have a feeling he’s not going to rest easy about it. There’ll be trouble, sure as shootin’.” Garrett snorted and the muscles in the back of his neck tightened. “I don’t really know why he’s so angry, but it seems as if Jordan thinks he was owed the place, that his uncle promised it to him on his sixteenth birthday.”

Garrett straightened and looked at the first stars beginning to wink overhead. “If that’s true—which I doubt—it was a long time ago and Cameron Baxter must’ve changed his mind or he wouldn’t have sold it to our family. Hell, it’s a mess…” He reached into his shirt pocket for a nonexistent pack of cigarettes, an old habit as he’d quit smoking years before.

“That’s not the worst of it,” he admitted as he started along a trail leading back to the house. “It’s Trent. He’s got something going with Gina. I see the way they look at each other, even caught them getting cozy up on the ridge the other day and then just yesterday I surprised them. They were alone in the barn and well, you know…” A wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They remind me of us, Laura. The way I couldn’t keep my hands off you.” He sighed, remembering how hot and randy he’d been at Trent’s age.

He passed by an open window of the ranch house and country music, punctuated by static, reached his ears.
“Trouble is,” he went on, “Trent’s never been one to settle down. Too much of his daddy’s blood in his veins, I reckon, so I’m afraid someone’s going to get hurt…and it won’t be our grandson.”

His eyebrows slammed together at the thought. As he was nearly at the house, he quit speaking out loud. He’d have trouble explaining that he was talking to his dead wife, so he clamped his mouth shut, but he was still concerned. Trent and Gina were involved—no question about it—and though the relationship in and of itself wasn’t a problem, Garrett was just sick at the thought that Trent might break Gina’s heart. That spunky redhead deserved a whole lot better.

On top of all that, Trent and his brother Blake didn’t seem to get along. They looked identical, but were, in fact, as different as night to day.

Yes, he thought as he walked up the steps to the back porch and the scent of early blooming roses from the overgrown garden reached his nostrils, things were only going to get worse. At the back door he inched off one boot with the toe of another.

In the next few days the rest of Larry’s boys would arrive.

Contrary to what he’d hoped, the homecoming might not be filled with brotherly love. In fact, considering the escalating tension in the house between Trent, Gina and Blake, and the gossip in town running rampant about Larry’s illegitimate offspring, to say nothing of Jordan Baxter’s determination to make
trouble, it was probably a damned good bet that all hell was about to break loose.

The door to her room was ajar and the sounds at night were becoming familiar. The old clock in the foyer ticked off the seconds, a television, the sound low, rumbled down the hallway, and Trent’s voice, muted as he was on the phone in the den, was barely audible. He’d insisted on installation of extra telephone lines. Between the running of the ranch, Trent’s business and hers, a single line hadn’t cut it. Now, because Garrett had agreed and three extra lines had been installed just this past week, faxes could get through while he was on-line and talking on the telephone all at the same time. Garrett hadn’t objected as he hoped several of his newfound grandsons would stay on at the ranch for the summer. Most of them would have to conduct their business from the ranch.

All in all, it was a nightmare, Gina thought as she sat on her bed and rubbed the kinks from her neck. She’d spent the past several days trying—and failing—to avoid Trent. They’d shared meals together, bumped into each other in the house, and while she’d helped Suzanne in the kitchen, he and Blake had pitched in whenever Rand had needed an extra hand or two. He’d spent a lot of time in the den and so she’d taken to working from her room.

She’d passed him in the hallways, tried to smile and act nonchalant, but there was always more between them than a cursory nod or “Hello,” “How’s it goin’?” or even “Did you sleep okay?”

Just yesterday she’d found him alone in the barn when she’d been searching for Garrett.

“Garrett?” she’d called, stepping into the darkened interior that smelled of dry hay and cattle.

“Don’t think he’s here.” Trent’s voice had startled her and he’d stepped out of the shadows. His boot heels, ringing on hundred-year-old floorboards as he approached, echoed through the chambers of Gina’s fluttering heart. “I’m looking for him myself.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t been able to conjure up a ghost of a smile as a barn owl, disturbed, had hooted from the rafters and dust motes had swirled and danced, appearing golden in the shaft of daylight piercing a solitary round window. She’d looked into his face and her breath had suddenly lost itself between her lungs and her throat. Bladed cheekbones, square jaw, and thick eyebrows guarding eyes so blue that even in the half light she swallowed hard.

“Not in the stables, either. I checked.”

“Then…then maybe he went into town.”

“His truck’s here.” He’d been so close she could smell the hint of his aftershave, all male and musk as it mingled with the other odors of the barn.

“Then I’ll check the bunkhouse.”

“Wait.” He’d reached for her hand and as his fingers had caught her wrist a shock had run up her nerves. Sweat had beaded between her shoulder blades. “I think I’ve been a little rough on you.”

“Rough?”

He’d frowned and she’d wanted to kiss those blade-thin lips. Frustration and bewilderment, emotions she didn’t normally attribute to him, had been drawn into the lines of his face. “I don’t think so.”

“The truth is, you bother me, Gina. I don’t know what to do with you.”

She’d laughed nervously. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do.”

“No?” He hadn’t been convinced, his thick eyebrows cinching together as the owl hooted again, flapped its wings and hid deeper in the rafters.

Oh, if he would just quit touching her. But his fingers had been warm on the inside of her wrist and the air between them had seemed to grow thicker still, heavy with unspoken emotions. She’d immediately thought of their lovemaking, of the fact that she might be pregnant and wanted to confide in him. But she hadn’t—she couldn’t. Not until she was certain. Maybe not even then. As if he’d read the doubts in her mind, he’d tugged gently on her arm, pulled her closer. His head bent and his lips had hovered over hers in delicious enticement. “I—”

With a creak of hinges the sliding door was suddenly rolled back. As sunlight streamed through the opening, Gina had pulled her hand away from Trent’s. She’d turned quickly to find Garrett, Blake and Rand just outside. “That’s right, I think we should check with the vet, make sure we have all the serums for inoculations,” Garrett had been saying as the bright light flooded the
barn’s interior. Gina had tried to appear calm and Trent had actually stepped forward.

“Gina and I have been lookin’ for you,” he’d said without preamble, as if he wasn’t the least bit disconcerted that once again they’d been discovered in a nearly compromising position. “I took a call from Wayne, he wants you to get in touch with him, and Gina—” He’d turned to her and with a cocky half smile, said, “She needed something, as well.” Raising a dark eyebrow, encouraging her to take over, he’d cocked his head toward the three men as they’d walked inside.

Her mind had gone blank. For the life of her she hadn’t been able to remember why she’d been searching for the elder Kincaid.

“Somethin’ up?” Garrett had asked. Rand had walked past them and into the barn, Blake had smothered a knowing smile, and Gina, fighting the urge to slap Trent for tossing the ball in her direction, had forced her head to nod and hoped to high heaven that her face was still in the shadows, that her blush was hidden.

“It not that important if you’re busy. I just wanted to ask you some questions about Larry—where he was about a year and a half ago. I mean, I know he spent some time with you and Wayne going over this place, so he was here in Whitehorn, but I wondered about side trips he might have taken.” They’d been over this territory before, but she’d wanted to double-check her notes, and Garrett was the best source of information she had.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll meet you up at the
house,” he’d said. The owl had flapped his wings, shedding feathers that had drifted to the floor as Gina, embarrassed all over again, though she’d told herself she was being overly sensitive, had walked stiffly back to the house.

Garrett hadn’t been able to shed any more light on Larry’s whereabouts during the time when the seventh son had been conceived, nor had he brought up either time he’d caught Gina and Trent embracing. But he wasn’t happy about the situation; Gina’s feminine intuition was working overtime these days and she sensed Garrett’s disapproval.

“Great,” she muttered as she pulled one leg under her and leaned against the wall. Well, she didn’t have much more time here. The other sons were due to start rolling into the ranch in the morning and if she could just locate that last one, or prove that he didn’t exist, she could hightail it. Garrett wanted her to meet all of the men she’d located; she wasn’t sure that was such a fabulous idea. Look what had happened when she’d made the mistake of accepting a drink from Trent. One thing had led to another and now…

Oh, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, dwell on the consequences of that first fateful meeting. Not while she had so much to do. Using her pencil, she scratched her head where the rubber band of her ponytail pulled tight. She spread the files she’d made of each of Larry’s offspring beside her on the wrinkled covers. On the desk, her laptop glowed ghostly blue.

Where was that baby?

She’d spent days trying to track him down, to no avail. She had, again, come up dry.

“So much for your sharp investigative mind,” she muttered to herself, wondering if there really was a seventh illegitimate son. She flipped open the journal. Could it be a hoax? Did some woman try to pawn off her baby as Larry’s to scare him, or to shake him down? Was it all a twisted, cruel joke? Larry Kincaid had certainly used and cheated on any woman he’d contacted, maybe someone had just turned the tables on him.

She tapped her eraser against her teeth and ignored the sound of Trent’s laughter rolling up the stairs. She wondered who he was talking to, then reminded herself she didn’t care.

“Think,” she admonished, and flipped through her notes about the other brothers, scanning the files, searching desperately for some thread that might tie them together, some reason Larry chose the women he did, a commonality aside from the fact that they were all Larry Kincaid’s sons. Maybe she would then come up with the most likely candidate for Larry’s last fling. She sensed that the woman lived around here in Whitehorn. Larry had been here about the time the child had been conceived.

If
he’d been conceived, she reminded herself as she propped a shoulder against the wall.

Each of her reports, typed neatly, dated, cross-referenced and tucked into manila files, gave a short bio on Garrett’s grandsons. She had also included a picture of each of the grown men and kept color copies for herself.

She opened a file. The firstborn, Adam Benson, was thirty-seven years old and an overachiever who had earned an MBA and a reputation for having a chip on his shoulder the size of Montana. There were reasons for his anger—deep-seated and dark. Gina studied the picture she’d culled from his college yearbook. Arrogantly handsome with jet-black hair, steely gray eyes and strong, chiseled features vaguely reminiscent of his grandfather’s, Adam was a striking man. He’d worked hard and was determined to leave his mark on this world. Always pushing, never satisfied, he’d become a corporate raider and, even at the age of twenty-three as he stared into the camera, he looked the part.

Gina set his page aside and picked up the next, that of thirty-five-year-old Cade Redstone. Gina smiled. Cade was about as opposite from his older brother as he could be, a real, doggie-chasing, bronc-riding, spur-jangling cowboy whose mother, Mariah Raintree, was a Native American who had once worked as a maid for the Kincaids. The snapshot showed Cade at a rodeo in Texas, astride an ornery Brahman bull. His dark eyes gleamed with anticipation. His bronzed skin gleamed with sweat. Gina suspected Cade would feel right at home on the ranch and would probably give his uptight, older half brother a well-deserved ribbing. While Gina expected Adam to turn on a polished leather heel and leave the Whitehorn ranch immediately upon landing, she suspected Cade would dig his cowboy boots into the gravel, grass and dirt of the spread with gusto and fire.

She set his file aside and picked up the third, that of Brandon Harper, the result of Larry’s affair with a Las Vegas showgirl. Brandon’s stepfather had been a monster and the boy had lashed out, been placed in foster care, adopted, but had been a juvenile delinquent on a path straight to jail. Luckily he’d been athletic and, under the guidance of a coach or two, had avoided jail. He, like Trent, had made his millions on his own.

The photo she’d found of Brandon had been taken just last year at a social event in Lake Tahoe. Dressed in a black tuxedo with a teal vest, he was standing in the foyer of a high-rise hotel, an illuminated fountain spraying upward as a backdrop, a gorgeous model clinging like a piece of expensive jewelry to one arm. Brandon’s smile was as cold as his ice-blue eyes. A Rolex watch peeked from beneath his sleeve and his black hair had been perfectly cut. His features were sharp, bold and guarded. While the woman he was with fairly beamed, Brandon looked as if he had ice water running through his veins.