Man on a Mission (12 page)

But, beyond the obvious sexual attraction, what did
he feel for her? He didn't see himself as a husband or a father. So, what was she doing with him? Was she once again falling in love with the wrong kind of man? A man who couldn't possibly give her what she desired—a future of happiness together?

With a weary sigh, she stood and went back into the cottage. She didn't know the answers. She only knew she felt powerless to fight her feelings for Mark.

“Mom?” Brian called to her as she started into her bedroom.

She went into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. “What are you doing still awake?” She reached out and pushed a strand of his hair from his forehead.

“I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

Brian leaned up and bunched the pillow behind him so he was sitting up a little. “Mark seemed smarter tonight, didn't he?”

April grinned. “You just think he was smarter because he beat both of us at poker.”

Brian didn't return her smile. Instead his forehead wrinkled with thought. “I'm being serious, Mom. Ricky's mom told me about Mark getting hurt and that his brain doesn't work exactly right anymore. But I think it works just fine. Don't you?”

April's smile fell away as she realized the tangle of lies Mark had spun to perpetuate his image of a damaged man. “Mark's brain works just fine,” she replied.

“Good enough to be a dad.” It was a statement rather than a question.

April sighed, unsure how to address Brian's statement. “Brian, before a man can be a good dad, he
has to want to be a dad. I don't think Mark wants to be a father.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, not in so many words,” she hedged. It was the truth, Mark hadn't said he didn't want to be a father, but in saying he had no plans to become a husband, he'd implied the same about fatherhood.

“If he didn't tell you that, then you can't know for sure,” Brian replied. “He just doesn't know how cool it would be.” He gifted April with a reassuring smile. “I just have to show him what a cool son I'd make.”

“Honey, it's a lot more complicated than that,” April protested.

Brian yawned, then snuggled into his pillow. “Don't worry, Mom. It'll be all right.”

April left the bedroom, her heart breaking for her son. Damn Derrick. Damn Derrick, not for leaving her, but for abandoning Brian without a backward glance. April's father had momentarily filled the void in Brian, but his unexpected death had only served to reopen the wound of abandonment.

Brian hoped to fill that void with Mark, but April knew better. Mark seemed to have too many holes in himself to be able to fill anyone else's.

So, what was he doing, coming to their cottage, sharing not only time but laughter and pleasure with them? There were times he seemed as needy, as hungry as Brian for some sort of connection.

He looked at her with want in his eyes, yet when she tried for any emotional closeness, he ran for the hills.

She undressed quickly and crawled into bed. And what was she doing? Longing for a man's touch. Not
any man, but Mark's. Even knowing he was a bad bet for the future, she couldn't stop wanting him.

If she were strong, she would cut her losses where he was concerned, make sure she was unavailable when those dark gray eyes of his beckoned to her with heat.

She closed her eyes, summoning the inner strength she knew she possessed. She and Mark had made an initial mistake in making love. She had been weak and foolish to allow it to happen. She would be crazy to compound the mistake by allowing it to happen again.

By making love to him again, she knew she would tumble from the precipice where she teetered, going from falling in love with Mark to being in love with Mark.

And she couldn't allow that to happen. She didn't think she could handle being in love with the wrong man yet again.

She awoke the next morning with the strength of her conviction burning inside her like a fever. She needed to direct her relationship with Mark back into safe territory, and that meant no more games of cards, no more nights of talking beneath the moon and definitely no more making love.

She told herself she wasn't doing it just for her own sake, but for Brian's, as well. Apparently, Brian had subconsciously picked up on something between Mark and April, something that made him believe a long-term relationship was a possibility between the two adults.

But April knew it wasn't fair to Brian to invite a man into their lives who had no intention of being
permanent. Brian had already had more than his share of inconsistent men in his life. He didn't need another one.

It was nearly seven when she left her office and headed back to her cottage. It had been an unusually long day. She'd had the office to herself as Walter hadn't been in. She'd fielded questions from guests, arranged transportation to and from town and tried desperately not to think about Mark.

She'd shared lunch with Brian, then had sent him to the cottage with a list of chores and the understanding that he was not to leave until she got home that evening.

She was halfway from the main house to the cottages when Doreen stopped her. “Have you heard?” Doreen asked, excitement vibrating her voice.

“Heard what?”

“They found Lenny Boles.”

“What? Where?” April grabbed Doreen's hands. “Did he confess to killing Marietta? To hurting Mark?”

“He didn't confess to anything. He's dead, apparently murdered. And from what I heard, he's been dead for a long time.”

“Oh, no…” April's voice trailed off with disappointment. She'd hoped in finding Lenny, they'd have all the answers and Mark could finally find some peace. But if Lenny had killed Marietta, then who had killed Lenny?

“His body was found someplace out in the desert. The word is he's been dead since about the time Marietta was murdered.”

“Where's Mark? Does he know?”

“I don't know. There's a powwow going on in the stables. I'd guess he's in there with his family and the sheriff. Both Johnna and Luke showed up a few minutes ago.”

April looked toward the stables, where several officers were standing before the doors, looking officious and somber. She wondered how Mark was taking the news, exactly what Lenny Boles's death meant to Marietta's murder.

She wanted to talk to Mark, to offer comfort if he needed it. But she couldn't very well burst into a meeting behind closed doors. She'd have to wait.

 

“This certainly kinks up our initial speculation that Boles was responsible for Marietta's death and Mark's injuries,” Sheriff Broder said, a deep frown creasing his broad forehead.

“That's certainly the understatement of the year,” Johnna said dryly.

Broder ignored her. “From the initial examination of the body, I'd say Boles died about the same time as the Lopez woman.”

“And that certainly sets up an interesting question. If Boles killed Marietta, then who killed Boles?” Matthew looked from one to the other, his face pale with stress.

The stress of guilt? Mark watched his brothers' and sister's faces carefully, looking for the whisper of secrets in their eyes, the hint of subterfuge.

The discovery of Lenny Boles's body had shocked Mark. Although he'd never really believed the man had been responsible for the attack, he hadn't expected Boles to turn up dead.

“We're going to have to reinterview folks around here,” Sheriff Broder said. “Somebody has to know something about this.”

“Is it possible to keep this investigation low-key?” Matthew asked. “I don't want our guests upset by all this.”

The ranch, Mark thought. Matthew was always thinking first and foremost about the ranch. Mark turned his gaze to Johnna. She had always professed to hate the ranch. Would she involve herself in something illegal in order to cause the final demise of the place?

And then there was Luke, the wild one of the group. If he'd become involved in anything illegal, it would have been more for the thrill than for any real profit.

Suddenly Mark was sickened, sickened by the deaths that had occurred, sickened by his own tortured thoughts. “You might check Larry Greco,” he said to Broder.

Jeffrey Broder's eyebrows rose in surprise. “What do you know about Greco?”

Mark shrugged. “Just that he comes around here a lot.” It was all Mark was willing to offer. He grinned vacuously. “Larry and Billy are friends.”

“Billy Carr?” Broder asked.

Mark nodded. “Can I go now?”

“Is there anything more we can do here?” Luke asked.

“I suppose we're through for now,” Sheriff Broder replied. “I'll keep you all posted on what we discover.”

The moment the sheriff dismissed them, Mark
quickly saddled up his horse. He had to get away from here…get some breathing room…some thinking room.

Once he was on the back of his horse, he exploded from the stables, giving the horse full rein, allowing the hot air to whip him in the face, whip all feeling, all thoughts out of his head.

 

April saw Mark leave the stable, riding as if he was attempting to outrun demons.

She turned to her friend. “Doreen, would you mind keeping an eye on Brian? I really need to talk to Mark.”

“Go. Don't worry about Brian. He can spend the night with us. I'll go get him right now.” She released April's hands and shooed her away.

April flashed her a grateful smile, then turned and raced for her car. She hoped he was riding for his place, hoped she could find his house on her own.

Surely now he'd realize it was time to drop his pretense and go to the sheriff with everything he knew.

Dusk was falling as she parked in front of the house. A light shone from the kitchen window, and his horse was tied out front, letting her know he was indeed there.

He answered the door at her first knock. “April, what are you doing here?” He pulled her inside and closed the door.

She saw the tension that drew his features taut, the shadows of darkness that clung in the depths of his eyes. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I'm all right.” He led her to the sofa. After she
sat, he sank down heavily next to her, as if the weight on his shoulders was too massive to handle. He raked a hand through his hair and looked at her. “Two dead people and no suspects. No, I guess I'm not okay after all.”

She leaned toward him and placed a hand on his forearm, feeling the tension that gripped his body. “Mark, I'm afraid for you. Go to the sheriff, tell him what you know. Go to your family, tell them the truth.”

“The discovery of Boles's body doesn't change anything as far as I'm concerned,” he countered. He raked a hand through his hair once again. “I still don't know who to trust.”

“But you have to trust somebody,” she exclaimed, and tightened her grip on his arm. At that moment she recognized it was too late for her to hold back from loving him. She already did.

He shook his head. “Sooner or later I'm going to figure out what's going on, what had Marietta so frightened and ultimately what got her killed. I've got to do this my way.”

“Why?” She pulled her hand back from him, anger coursing through her. “Why does it have to be your way? Why do you have to do this all alone?”

He stood up, his eyes suddenly blazing with an anger of his own. “Because that's the way it's always been, that's the way I've always been—alone.”

He paced back and forth in front of her, energy wafting from him. “I've never been able to depend on anyone but myself. Something is wrong here at the ranch, and I've got to figure out what it is.” His hands clenched at his sides. “I need to fix things.”

A sudden realization came to April's mind. “Why, Mark? Why does it have to be you alone that fixes things?” She got up and approached him, halting when she stood mere inches from him.

“It just has to be this way.” His eyes were dark pools of pain, and April saw not only the man, but the tormented little boy who desperately needed his father's approval.

“Mark, your father is dead. You can't be the hero that saves the ranch for him.”

For a brief moment she thought she'd gone too far, spoken too freely. He seemed to rise in height, expand in breadth, and a flash of rage sparked in his eyes.

He glared at her as if she were personally responsible for everything—for his father's indifference, for Mark's dysfunctional relationship with his siblings, for his suspicion of them, for the very core of loneliness she'd sensed in him.

She gasped as he grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her toward him. “Don't you understand?” His voice was less anger and more anguish. “I have to do this for me. I have to know that I can do something worthwhile, that I'm important.”

April's heart wept for him. Although her father and Derrick had taken much from her, she'd never lost her sense of self-worth. She placed the palms of her hands on the sides of his face. “Mark, I believe you're important and worthwhile. I believe in you.”

Her words seemed to transform whatever anguish, whatever anger he'd been feeling, into something very different. His eyes once again blazed, but this time with a need that stole her breath away.

He crashed his lips down to hers in a kiss that
shouted of hunger and need. At the same time his arms surrounded her and pulled her so close she felt that he was attempting to pull her into him.

Someplace in the back of April's mind she knew what was about to happen, but her earlier conviction seemed unimportant as Mark's kiss devoured all other thought but his need for her and hers for him.

W
hile their initial lovemaking had been slow and easy—the tentative exploring of new lovers—there was nothing slow or easy about it this time.

Mark's kiss consumed her with fiery need as his hands stroked down the length of her back. When he reached the small of her back, he pressed her harder against him, letting her know the full extent of his arousal.

His mouth left hers, trailing hot kisses down the side of her neck. His hands moved up beneath her T-shirt, caressing the bare skin of her back, but the caressing lasted only a moment before he pulled the shirt over her head.

Even if she'd wanted to protest, had wanted to halt him, he gave her no opportunity, sweeping her into a maelstrom of passion that made thought of anything but him impossible.

She didn't know if he removed her clothes or she did. She only knew that moments later they were both naked and on the floor of the living room.

There was little foreplay, their desire for each other too great to spend time caressing or stroking. She already felt as if they'd indulged in hours, days of foreplay. She was ready for him, had been ready since the moment of his initial kiss.

His hands moved to the sides of her face as he kissed her with a depth that consumed her. At the same time he entered her, filling her with pulsating heat.

Frantic, with a touch of desperation, they moved together. April was unsure what forces drove Mark, but she knew the force that drove her—love.

She had no idea when exactly she'd fallen in love with Mark. Perhaps it had been that morning when she'd seen him with Brian, polishing saddles in the stable, when he'd shown eternal patience and kindness to a child who desperately needed those qualities.

Or maybe her love for him had blossomed amid the magic of their first kiss beneath a big coyote moon. It really didn't matter when she'd fallen in love with him. What mattered was the depth and breadth of her love for him.

It filled her, permeating every fiber of her being. She loved him as she'd never loved Derrick, as she'd never loved before.

“April…April.” He whispered her name over and over again as he moved against her, into her very soul. She clutched at his back, kissed the hollow of
his throat as they moved faster, seeking the rhythm that would ultimately release them.

Frenzied, almost savagely they met each other, as if consumed by a single need. He whispered in her ear, soft whispers of passion as he drove deep.

The release came to her first, and tears sprang to her eyes as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. He followed just behind her, stiffening against her and crying out hoarsely.

For a long moment neither of them spoke. Mark moved slightly to the side so his entire weight wasn't resting on her. April was aware of her heartbeat slowing, seeking a more normal rhythm.

Mark leaned up on his elbow and gazed down at her. “You all right?”

She nodded, too full of emotion to speak.

“I'm sorry.” He touched her cheek with his fingertip, a gesture so tender, so sweet, she felt tears once again burning at her eyes. “I didn't mean for this to happen. Especially not so—so fiercely.”

She smiled dryly. “As I recall, I wasn't exactly an unwilling participant in the fierceness.”

Her love for him filled her, begging to be released, but she held it in, knowing it was the last thing Mark would want to hear. Instead of speaking of her love, she loved him with her eyes, taking in each and every feature of his face and memorizing it in her heart.

“If you don't stop looking at me like that, we're going to have a problem,” he said, his voice a deep growl.

She laughed, loving the fact that she could affect him by merely looking at him. “Surely it would be a problem we could solve.”

“You are a wicked woman,” he teased. In one smooth, graceful movement, he rolled off her and stood. He held out a hand to help her up off the floor. “Have you eaten supper?”

“No, I was on my way to the cottage from the house when I heard the news about Lenny.”

“Where's Brian?”

It warmed her heart that he would even think about her son. “With Doreen for the night.”

“How about a fast shower, then I'll fix us some omelettes?” He didn't give her an opportunity to accept or decline. Taking her by the hand, he led her through his bedroom and into the master bath.

She stood and watched while he adjusted the water temperature in the large shower, surprised to discover it seemed perfectly natural to be naked with Mark.

And in his nakedness he was impressive. Dark hair curled on his chest, covering the center, then tapering to a thin line that ran the length of his flat abdomen. He looked powerful, utterly male, and gazing at him made breathing a little more difficult.

When he had the water to his liking and steam began to fill the glass enclosure, he stepped into the shower and pulled her in with him.

April wasn't sure what was more sensually appealing, the waterfall of the warm water caressing her skin or Mark's body moving intimately against hers. In her three years of marriage, she'd never showered with Derrick. She'd never showered with any man in her life.

She watched as he took a bar of soap and lathered a spongeful of suds, then he rubbed the sponge down her neck and across her breasts.

A moment before, April had believed herself completely sated, as fulfilled and satisfied as a woman could be. However, she felt herself responding anew to his touch.

When he finished washing her breasts, he pulled her against him so he could reach behind and stroke the sponge down the length of her back.

She hissed at the exquisite pleasure that soared through her. As he touched her more intimately, her knees weakened and she sagged against him.

Every sense she possessed was heightened as she'd never experienced before. The scent of the minty soap whirled in her head as she took the sponge from him and began to lather his chest.

Before long, both their bodies were soft and slick with soap and water. They moved together and the tactile pleasure of skin against skin, mouth against mouth, beneath the warmth of the water fed the fuel of April's desire higher.

Apparently the experience affected Mark in the same way. With his eyes blazing an inferno of renewed want, he took the soap from her, pulled her beneath the full shower spray to rinse off, then shut off the water and carried her from the shower to the bed.

There they made love slowly, languidly. Gone was the utter desperation that had earlier marked their lovemaking. In its place was a simple quiet need for each other, a need that was all encompassing.

Afterward they once again lay quiet in each other's arms, the sheets beneath them a tangle of material. The room had grown dark with night, and only the light from the bathroom illuminated the bedroom.

“I told you it was a problem we could solve,” she said softly.

He laughed, the laughter vibrating in her chest as she remained firmly against him. She could feel his heartbeat pounding against her own, and the sound of those mingling beats sent a symphony of love singing inside her.

She longed to tell Mark that she loved him. Her need to confess her innermost feelings for him burned inside her. But she kept her silence.

Although he appeared to be relaxed next to her, his eyes closed and his breathing regular, she sensed a tension still rolling around inside him.

Besides, he hadn't uttered any words of love. He'd cried her name, whispered sweet and sexy things in her ear, but he hadn't spoken of love.

Or had he? Hadn't she tasted love in his kisses, felt love flowing from his fingertips as he'd stroked her so tenderly? Had that been love? Or the finesse of a man adept at soothing both animals and women?

He'd told her he had no plans to marry, had implied he would never have a family, and yet never had she met a man more qualified to be both. Never, before Mark, had she met a man who seemed to ache with the need for both.

“Hungry?” His deep voice finally broke the silence between them.

“Not really.” She turned her head to look at him, loving the strength of his features. She knew that strength had been carved out not only from the barren land in which he lived, but also from his harsh childhood devoid of love.

“Tomorrow morning we're having a family meet
ing.” He frowned, as if the thought was an unpleasant one. “One of the stipulations in Dad's will is that once a week we have a family meeting with Walter.”

April didn't say anything, although she wondered why he was telling her this. He rolled over on his back and threw an arm across his eyes. “After the meeting, I'll go into town and talk to the sheriff.”

“And you'll tell your family?”

He sighed. “No, not yet. But I will tell the sheriff everything I know.”

April laid her head on his chest. “Thank you,” she said softly. Relief flooded through her. Although she believed he should talk to his family first, it wasn't her call. It was enough that he intended to tell the sheriff, and perhaps Broder could figure out why Marietta had been killed and what exactly was going on at the ranch.

She remained with her head on his chest for a little while, listening to his heart throbbing in a slow rhythm. After several minutes his hand stroked through her hair, a soothing, sweet touch that summoned the first edge of sleepiness.

Reluctantly she sat up. “I should go.”

He touched her arm and she turned to gaze at him. “Why? Brian is at Doreen's for the night. There's no reason you have to go.” His hand moved up her arm and he touched the side of her cheek with his index finger. “Stay with me, April. Stay the night, and I'll see that you're back at the cottage early.”

April knew she shouldn't, knew that to sleep in his arms would only deepen the love she felt for him. Sleeping with him seemed every bit as intimate as
making love to him. And yet, how could she deny herself this?

Somehow she felt in her heart that things were coming to a climax between herself and Mark, that when he told the sheriff the truth in the morning, Mark would no longer need her.

As the only person who had known the truth about him, she'd been an outlet for him, a person with whom he could let down his guard and speak freely.

Although she had fallen in love with him, she had no idea what his true feelings for her were. They appeared to be as hidden as his intelligence was beneath his facade.

“April, stay the night, sleep in my arms.”

She knew the right thing was to get up and leave, but she was helpless against the force of his gaze, beneath the touch of his hand. She allowed him to pull her into his arms and against the warmth of his body.

As they settled in together, he pulled a sheet over them, as if protecting them from the night and any outside forces that might threaten.

With a contentment she'd never known, she closed her eyes and fell asleep as love for Mark filled her heart.

 

Mark found sleep elusive. Despite the fact that April's body was warm against his, that her closeness filled him with a euphoric rightness, his mind refused to shut off enough to allow sleep to overtake him.

The discovery of Lenny's body had been shocking, and he felt as if it had somehow forced his hand. How much longer could he play the fool without results?

If he were to guess what had happened, he'd speculate that Lenny, who'd had a crush on Marietta, had followed the woman on that fatal night. He'd seen whoever had killed her, the person who had attempted to kill Mark, and he'd died because he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He shifted positions, careful not to disturb April's sleep. The old barn. He believed the answers began and ended in the old barn. Marietta had doodled
barn
endlessly in her notes.

But what did it mean? What were the answers? He frowned as something niggled at the back of his brain, some little piece of information that begged to be acknowledged. No matter how hard he tried to identify it, it wouldn't come.

He tightened his arms around April. She wanted him to tell his family the truth, but he was reluctant to do so, and adamant that she not learn the reason for his reluctance.

His frown deepened as he played and replayed the conversation he'd heard between Billy Carr and Larry Greco. Billy had mentioned “the boss.” Mark wanted to know what was going on but, more important, he needed to know who was responsible. Who was “the boss”?

And in the depths of his heart his fear was that it might be one of his brothers or his sister. How long could he carry this burden, this fear, that brought deep shame and a tremendous sense of disloyalty that weighed heavy on his heart.

April moaned faintly in her sleep, as if protesting his thoughts. He stroked her back, and she instantly
calmed. April. Her very name caused a rivulet of warmth to flow through him.

He realized that his mind had been assessing and reassessing the possible crimes and criminals on the ranch because it was easier, less complicated than dealing with his emotions where April was concerned.

She filled a void he hadn't realized he'd had. Her smile warmed his heart and evoked laughter inside him. The pain of her past had somehow become his pain.

He loved her.

The joy this realization brought with it was short-lived. He loved her, and if he had his way he would continue their relationship as it was at this moment. Stealing nights when possible to hold her in his arms, spending evenings with her and Brian, sharing in the love that existed between mother and son.

If he had his way they would continue with their relationship of no commitment, no expectations, no real future. Because it was easier that way.

He could successfully fulfill no expectations, and she'd never have to know he was a failure, as his father had known, as Rachel had discovered.

He loved April with every fiber of his being, and that was why he would never promise her a future, never make any sort of commitment to her.