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He wiped the surly expression off his face. Thinking about his mom always put him in a bad mood. “I’m fine.”
She invited him to sit in the dining room, where she was still close enough to hear the whistle blow.
He removed his denim jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. But he didn’t expect her to remove her robe. She still had it cinched. As a teenager, she used to show a lot of flesh, wearing skimpy outfits designed to set his gender on fire. Yet somehow, the misbehaving button on her pajama top seemed even sexier than all those cropped T-shirts and short-shorts ever did.
“Is there something special you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked.
Suddenly Ethan had the urge to bolt. He didn’t know what to say, how to explain his compulsion to see her at this hour, so he faked it the best he could. “We didn’t have much time to visit earlier, to catch up on old times.”
She smoothed the Aztec-printed placemat in front of her. “You had an appointment.”
“I’m not in a hurry now.” Which was a lie, of course. He was anxious as hell, impatient to cross the finish line, to have a zipper-blasting affair with her. He’d always been sexually obsessed with her, but things had been complicated when they were young.
She tilted her head. “So that’s your only agenda? To catch up on old times?”
Guilt clawed at his chest. She’d come home to be with Ryan, to help him face the prospect of death. Tearing up the sheets with a man from her past didn’t factor into the equation. “You think I have ulterior motives? Me? The guy who never even kissed you?”
Susan appeared to be pondering his words. And worse yet, she was assessing his body language. He could tell by the way she looked at him. He wondered if she could see through him, if that was part of her job, something psychologists of her caliber were able to do.
“You didn’t come here tonight to see how much I’ve changed? To decide if I’m still a bad girl deep inside?”
He cursed beneath his breath, wishing he’d stayed away from her. “I came here because—”
The whistle on the kettle blew, nearly jarring him out of his skin. She hopped up, bumping the table, rattling his emotions.
“I’ll go get our tea,” she said.
He waited in the dining room. Once the kettle stopped making noise, the house fell into a slumberous hush. Nothing stirred but his heart.
Trying to relax, Ethan looked around. The Spanish-style decor appealed to him. He liked the heavy woods and rich textures.
Susan returned with a clay-colored tray that held two stoneware cups, a small variety of tea bags, a bowl of sugar and a cow-shaped creamer.
He chose an herbal blend that came in an orange packet, but he didn’t add anything to it. Susan picked the same flavor, doctoring hers with sugar and milk.
The drink was warm against his throat, more soothing than he expected. And he was glad she’d provided sturdy cups. His hands were too big for delicate china.
“Go ahead and finish what you were going to say,” she told him. “Tell me why you’re really here.”
He opted for honesty. But not complete honesty. He was keeping his hunger to himself. “It bugged me that you didn’t stop by today.”
“I considered it. But I didn’t want you to think I was starting that old cycle again. Throwing myself at you.”
Her admission gave him a boost of confidence. “Maybe we could do something together. Go on a date or something.”
“A date?” She sounded intrigued yet wary, still unsure of his intentions.
He backed off a bit, lifting one shoulder in an easy shrug. “Just something casual.”
She sucked in a breath. “Like what?”
“We could go for a ride tomorrow afternoon. It’s supposed to warm up.” And he was willing to rearrange his schedule to spend some time with her. “Around noon?”
“Do you have a horse that would suit me? I never was a skilled rider.”
“I’ve got a gentle old mare. I inherited her from one of my clients. I got roped into some dogs, too. And there’s a wild squirrel that pesters me for attention.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “You were always good with strays. With the wild ones, too.”
Grateful, he returned her smile. He’d always considered her a stray. And she’d been as wild as they come. “We can have a picnic. I can pick up some deli food.”
“Why don’t you let me pack our lunch? It will be my contribution to the date.”
“Thanks. That sounds great. I’ll trailer the horses to the hunting cabin ahead of time. You can meet me there instead of the barn.”
She agreed, and he finished his tea and left before it got too late. But as they said goodbye, they parted without any physical contact. No hug, no kiss on the cheek.
Nothing that indicated what tomorrow would bring.
The following morning a puffy blue sky presided over leafy plants and flowering perennials. Susan shared the inner courtyard with Lily and Ryan, who sat across from her at a glass-topped table. This was Susan’s favorite place on the Double Crown. An old-fashioned swing was positioned beneath a vine-draped arbor, and a fountain bubbled in the morning air.
Breakfast consisted of a Spanish omelet, buttered toast, orange juice and coffee. Ryan added more salsa to his omelet, and Susan was glad to see him up and about, enjoying quality time with his wife.
“You look pretty this morning,” Lily said to Susan.
“Thank you.” Susan was dressed in a red T-shirt and Wrangler jeans. Her boots, a sorrel shade of brown, sported a heart design on the toes. She’d fussed over her appearance, taking extra care with her hair and makeup. She’d tried to create a natural look, something that suited her outdoor date with Ethan.
Ryan squinted at Susan, the lines around his eyes crinkling his tanned skin. “You don’t seem very hungry.”
She glanced up from her plate. “I usually eat a light breakfast. Besides, I’m going on a picnic with Ethan, and I’m trying to save room.”
The older man smiled. “Well, that didn’t take long, did it? You’ve only been here for one day and you two made plans already.”
“Don’t tease me. I’m already nervous.” She checked her watch. “I’ve been up since the crack of dawn.” And now she still had two hours to go. But she’d already fried a batch of chicken and filled a plastic container with homemade potato salad.
Ryan’s smile shifted to his wife. “We decided to sleep in. To cozy up a bit.”
A girlish blush stained Lily’s cheeks, and Susan wondered what it would feel like to have a husband, to turn off the alarm clock and snuggle in a pair of strong arms, to know he would always be there.
No, she thought, her emotions turning sad. He wouldn’t always be there. If marriage didn’t end in divorce, then it ended in death.
There was no pain-free escape.
“Tell me about Jason Jamison,” she said, her mind drifting to the criminal who’d been haunting her family.
Ryan set down his fork. “He’s a madman. A disgruntled relative.”
“He’s one of us?”
“In a roundabout way. As you know, my father, Kingston, was adopted by the Fortune family. And a man named Travis Jamison was his biological father.”
“And Jason is a descendent of Travis?”
Ryan nodded, but Lily didn’t move. She sat quietly, listening to Susan and her husband discuss the Fortune legacy.
“Did Travis know about Kingston?” Susan asked. “Did he know he had a son?”
“No. But once Jason discovered that he was a long-lost relative of my father, he swooped down on us like the vulture he is.”
Lily finally spoke. “Jason is a killer. A heartless murderer.”
A chill rattled Susan’s spine, like ice chips scraping against each and every vertebra. She already knew that Jason was a killer, but hearing Lily say it, listening to the anxiety in her voice, brought the reality that much closer to home.
“Did Vincent tell you that Natalie witnessed one of the murders?” Lily asked.
Susan nodded. Vincent was her oldest brother and he’d filled her in about what Natalie, his new bride, had seen. “Jason strangled his own lover. A woman he was passing off as his wife.”
“That’s right,” Lily said. “And before that, Jason shot his own brother.”
Susan couldn’t imagine someone killing his or her sibling. But according to the Bible, Cain had slain Abel. It wasn’t something new.
“Jason has another brother,” Ryan put in. “And this one’s an FBI agent. He’s going to contact me when he gets into town. He’s put other killers behind bars, and he’s not going to rest until he catches Jason.”
“What’s his name?” Susan asked, curious about the man Ryan was putting his faith in.
“Emmett,” he told her. “Emmett Jamison.”
“Jason already escaped from prison,” Lily told Susan. “It happened while he was being transferred to a maximum-security facility.” She paused, took a breath. “We’re grateful that Special Agent Jamison is on his tail. We need all the help we can get.”
Ryan took his wife’s hand. “It will be okay, honey. I promise, it will.”
“I know. But I couldn’t bear it if he hurt someone in our family.” She met Susan’s gaze across the table. “Just because we have security on the ranch doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be careful. Or take their presence for granted.”
Ryan interjected. “Of course she’ll be careful. We all will. But we can’t live in fear. We can’t let Jason destroy our lives.” He brought Lily’s hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “We deserve some happiness. Some peace and quiet.”
Susan didn’t say anything. She let Ryan give his wife the comfort she needed. The support only a husband, the man who loved her, could provide.
At noon, Susan arrived at the hunting cabin. She parked the SUV she’d borrowed from Ryan behind Ethan’s truck and trailer and noticed the horses that were tied to a hitching post on the side of the property.
The building itself, a rustic log structure, sat on a piece of land that blended into the horizon, stretching as far as the eye could see. In the front yard a scatter of trees provided shady ambience, and a rough-hewn porch offered two sturdy, old barrel chairs, where a trio of dogs enjoyed the afternoon sun.
The largest of the three, a black Lab, lifted its head as Susan approached, then leaped forward to greet her like an old friend. The other two, mutts of unknown origin, barely paid her any mind.
Within seconds, Ethan flung open the door, and her pulse jumped to her throat. He looked tall and strong—a man with a powerful presence. Shadows cut across his shoulders, dappling the front of a chambray shirt. Beneath the brim of his ever-present hat, those bright blue eyes glittered like twin jewels.
The mixed-breed dogs glanced up at him, but the Lab stayed by her side.
“He likes women,” Ethan told her.
“So you’re a boy,” she said to the Lab.
“His name is Chocolate. But don’t blame me for that. My ex-girlfriend named him.”
Curious, Susan tilted her chin. His voice held no malice, but it didn’t ring of affection, either, or any kind of substantial loss. It made her wonder about Ethan’s capacity to fall in love.
“Are you analyzing me?” he asked.
Caught red-handed, she adjusted the canvas bag over her shoulder. “What can I say? You’re a fascinating subject. Besides, you brought up your ex.”
“Only because of Chocolate’s name. And you fascinate me, too. You always did. Even if I never kissed you.”
Susan glanced at his mouth, and that familiar smile spread across his lips. He was flirting with her, letting down his guard. And she was tempted to flirt back, to enjoy the affection she used to crave from him.
Enraptured, they gazed at each other, with Chocolate standing between them. Then the dog decided he wanted some attention and jammed his nose against Susan’s crotch.
She started, and Ethan bit back a laugh.
“I told you he liked women.”
“That’s not funny. You should correct him.”
“I do, but he never listens. Especially about that.”
“So you just gave up?”
He shrugged, and she shook her head and shoved the canvas bag at him. A gentle shove that had him smiling at her again.
“What’s in here?” he asked. “Dirty magazines? A month’s supply of condoms?”
She raised her eyebrows. When Ethan flirted, he flirted. No holds barred. “It’s our lunch, you pervert.”
“Look who’s talking. The girl who drove every boy in the county mad.”
“I don’t do that anymore.”
“Wanna bet?” He grinned and peered into the bag, examining the contents. “Fried chicken gets a guy every time.”
“There are cookies in there, too.”
“Chocolate chip?”
She glanced at the Lab, making sure he didn’t react too strongly to his name. “Peanut butter. But I didn’t bake them. They were left over in the kitchen.”
“I’ll bet Rosita made them,” he said, referring to Ryan and Lily’s housekeeper. “She used to give me sweets when I was a kid.”
Susan nodded. She knew that Rosita’s husband, Ruben, was a retired ranch hand, a man who’d worked with Ethan’s dad. “How’s your father doing these days?” she asked, assuming he’d retired, as well.
Ethan’s easy manner faltered. “Dad died four months ago. I guess Ryan didn’t tell you.”
