After the Music (6 page)

"I'm going home to talk to him," she said. "But it seems pretty hopeless. Thorn wants him to marry the oil refinery, you see." She shrugged. "I guess a divorced nobody of a secretary wouldn't be good enough." She looked up. "Listen, you weren't sweet on Al, were you?"

"Al and I are just buddies. In the beginning he worked up this false engagement to get big brother off his back. But now it may serve a different purpose. As for being sweet on anyone...You know what it was like for me when I was growing up. You know I don't want involvement, and you know why."

"Yes," Jess sighed sadly. "I understand. It's just that I wish you could be as happy as I am, my friend." She picked up her purse. "I'd better go. Al said he wasn't going to work until we talked. I think he and Thorn got into a spat yesterday over the refinery heiress again."

"Big brother just radiates love, doesn't he?" Sabina said coldly.

"He's trouble. Watch out."

"You're the one who'd better take that advice," Sabina murmured. "I'm just the red herring. You're the fox." She grinned.

"Some fox." Jessica laughed. "Don't take any chances. You're the best friend I ever had."

"Same here." Sabina flashed the engagement ring. "I'll keep this warm for you," she added wickedly.

Jess only laughed. "It wasn't funny when he first told me. But now, I think it's just great!"

"I wish I could have seen your face."

"It was a fascinating shade of purple," Jessica grinned as she headed for the door. "Thanks for the coffee!"

"Any time," Sabina murmured dryly. "See you later." Jessica barely nodded, and then she was gone.

But if Sabina thought that was going to be the end of it, she had a surprise waiting the next evening after her performance.

Al and Jess were waiting for her, all eyes and expectations after she'd changed into her street clothes and grabbed her long secondhand cashmere coat and joined them at their table. "Hi." Jess grinned.

"Yes, hi," Al seconded.

She studied them with pursed lips. "You look like crocodiles with your eyes on a fat chicken. What have you cooked up that's going to get me in trouble?"

"You volunteered," Al reminded her with a laugh.

She glared at the engagement ring on her finger. "Yes, but I'm only keeping it warm for Jess.

"Jess and I are going to get married next week," Al said.

Sabina perked up at that. She beamed, then almost cried at the look of happiness on their faces. "Marvelous!"

"Once we've actually done it, there's not a thing big brother can do to me," Al said. "Besides that, there's this tricky little loophole in the trust-if I get married, I inherit the trust immediately." He looked gloriously happy. "Thorn will never be able to tell me what to do again. And Jess and I can stop worrying about Thorn's matchmaking attempts.

"So I'm to divert him, is that it?" she asked.

Al nodded. "We'll be in Beaumont at the ranch for several days, but with Mother and me to run interference for you, it will be okay. He's in and out of the ranch because of his responsibilities and while he's working I'll sneak out with Jess to make the arrangements."

Sabina was thoughtful. Of course she wanted to help, but crossing Thorn this way could backfire. She hadn't forgotten the way she'd felt in his arms, and she didn't like being vulnerable. He probably knew how he affected her. She wouldn't put anything past him, especially if he thought the engagement was for real. He'd stoop pretty low to save his brother, and she was uneasy about the tactics he might use...

"We leave tomorrow morning, you know," Al reminded her.

"Yes, but what about the performances...?"

"We've got a vocalist to fill in for you," Al responded quickly. "I'm sorry, I know you don't like that, but Thorn did mention that if you were going to be at the ranch, it wasn't, practical for you to commute back and forth for the week_"

She felt a burning sensation. "Will I have a job to go back to?" she asked.

"Of course," Al said. But he didn't look that confident. He swore softly. "Damn, Sabina, I'm sorry. I'm not up to Thorn's weight. My God, who is?"

"I'll discuss it with him while we're at the ranch," Sabina said. She even managed to laugh. She couldn't blame Al for being himself. Her protective instincts were what had drawn her to him in the first place. He was like a baby brother. And she loved Jessica too much to pull out now. She could handle the oil baron. She'd just be a decoy, after all. "I'd better go pack!" she said with a smile. "Now, Jess, don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure big brother doesn't take a single bite out of your intended."

Jess got up and hugged her warmly. "I love you," she said fervently. "Please be careful." She looked at Sabina, and her eyes said it all. "You're much more vulnerable than anyone realizes."

Sabina straightened. "Don't worry, I believe in self-preservation. See you in the morning, Al!" she called.

"You're a pal," he told her, and he meant it.

"I'm a nut case," she muttered to herself as she left. She had a feeling this was going to be the worst mistake of her life-like prodding a cobra with a straw.

Chapter Three

The Thorndon ranch was just outside Beaumont, Texas, surrounded by white fences and huge oak and pecan trees. The house was a two-story Victorian model, gleaming white, with intricate gingerbread woodwork and a huge front porch and a lawn that was glorious in spring. The trees were bare now, because it was late autumn, but Sabina could picture it in warm weather with flowers all around. She'd seen a house like that in a storybook at the orphanage when she was a little girl, and she used to dream of living in one. Her eyes were wide and sad as she studied the sleek lines of the Rolls-Royce parked in the driveway. The oil baron's car, no doubt, she thought bitterly. He had so much, and she'd had so little all her life. Her mother's lover must have been just such a man....

"This is home," Al told her, stopping his Mercedes-Benz just as a solitary rider came into view against the backdrop of the trees. Wearing a tan sheepskin coat and a creamy white-brimmed hat, the rider sat astride the most magnificent black stallion Sabina had ever seen.

The rider was coming toward them at a gallop, through a herd of white-faced, red-coated Herefords, so close to his horse that they seemed to be irrevocably joined. Sabina watched him, fascinated, and wondered if he was one of the cowhands who. worked for the Thorndons. That lean, easy grace spoke of hours in the saddle.

"He rides beautifully, doesn't he?" Al murmured. "I remember watching him when we were boys and wishing I could do it half as well. He used to ride in rodeo competition, but then Dad died and he had to take over the oil company. I don't think he's really been happy since."

Sabina frowned slightly as the meaning of the words penetrated. The solitary rider had closed the gate he'd just ridden through and remounted, coming near enough that his face was recognizable. He cocked his hat over one eye and gave Sabina a slow, insolent smile. The black eye had lost some of its vividness. Now just a faint discoloration attested to its existence.

"Hello, rock singer," Hamilton Regan Thorndon the Third said mildly. "Fancy you on a ranch, cream puff."

She looked at him expressionlessly, as if he were a faintly interesting exhibit in a museum. "Yes, I know, I'll just be bored silly. But I'll muddle through somehow, oil baron," she said with a sweet smile.

He didn't like that cool appraisal or the taunting words, and his eyes narrowed as he lit a cigarette.

"How's it going?" Al asked casually.

"Feed's low," Thorn said. "We'll have to supplement the stock through the winter. I've sold off the culls already."

"That's the cattle business for you," the younger man agreed. "Is Mother here yet?"

Thorn's face grew colder. "She isn't coming."

Al stared at him. "Not coming?"

"The new boyfriend doesn't want to come all this way for a holiday," the older man said with a mirthless laugh. He drew on the cigarette. "And Mother doesn't want to leave him. Early days, you know."

"I'm sorry," Al said. "I'd hoped...It's been over a year since she's set foot on the ranch."

"She doesn't like the smell of cattle." Thorn's eyes went to Sabina, chilling blue eyes. "You won't be able to wear satin shorts around here, honey," he added.

"Okay." She shrugged. "I'll just go naked. Al won't mind," she said with a grin.

Thorn threw his cigarette to the ground. "You'll have separate rooms here," he told them. "And no midnight wandering, or so help me God, I'll throw both of you out the door!"

He turned his horse without another word, leaving Sabina spellbound.

"Whew!" Al sighed, easing the car up the driveway. "Mother really must have upset him this time."

"Does Thorn resemble her?" Sabina asked curiously.

"He looks like our father," he said. "A mirror image. Sometimes he acts like him, too. Dad was a passionate man, but he had a core of pure steel, and he used it on everybody. He could send our mother into tears with a look and keep her that way for days if he was angry. She got even, in the most basic way."

She stared at him. "Other men?"

His face darkened. "Other men. Thorn's always hated her for it, and she knows it. I think that's why she stays away. She can't really help the way she is, I suppose, but Thorn never forgave her for betraying Dad." He glanced at her after he'd parked the car behind the Rolls. "Dad caught her with one of her lovers. He dragged her out of the hotel, threw her into his car, and was driving her home in a rage when he wrecked the car. He was killed."

Sabina bit her lower lip. "How old was Thorn?"

"Twenty-four. My age. I'll never forget the way he looked at Mother, or what he said to her. She left the ranch just after the funeral and went to live with an aunt in England."

She shivered. So he knew, too. He knew. Her eyes closed.

"What is it?" Al asked, concerned.

"Nothing," she murmured. "Just a chill." She pulled her coat closer around her. Under it, she was wearing her only pair of cowboy boots, with designer jeans and a bulky gray sweater over a white blouse. The jeans and sweater, like the coat, were from the nearly new shop, and Al just shook his head as he studied her.

"You amaze me," he said. "You always look like something out of Rodeo Drive, but you hardly pay anything for it."

"I know where to look," she said with a grin. "Let's go. I'm just getting warmed up."

"Thorn bites when he's in this mood," he cautioned her. "Don't underestimate him. Stick close to me."

"You can count on it."

The house was misleading. Judging by its front, it was a bastion of quiet elegance. But inside if was a masculine stronghold. The living room was done in earthy tones, with Indian rugs and a strong Mexican influence as well. The walls in the living room and den were pecan-paneled, and hunting trophies and rodeo awards lined the wall of the den.

"Thorn's," Al told her, quiet pride in his voice. "He always took top money. The men still gather around when he feels like a little bronc busting out in the corral. It's quite a sight."

"How big is the ranch?" she asked.

"Not very, by Texas standards. But it's a good place to relax, and Thorn likes to experiment with his purebred Herefords. He's very much into embryo transplants right now, genetic improvement."

That was Greek to Sabina. She'd spent a little time with her grandfather, her mother's father, who had a farm just outside New Orleans. But that was years ago, before the old man died. She had just a few pleasant memories of being allowed to ride horses and breathe clean, country air and gaze toward an uncluttered horizon.

Her fingers lightly touched one of the awards, feeling its cold metal surface. It chilled her, like the man who'd earned it. "He must be very proud of these," she told Al.

"He is," came a deep voice from the doorway.

She turned to find Thorn, long-legged, narrow-hipped, devastating in jeans and a half-unbuttoned blue plaid shirt. He was still wearing dusty boots and the wide-brimmed hat that emphasized his dark complexion. His blue eyes were piercing from across the room, and his chiseled lips turned up in a twisted mockery of a smile.

"The metal is an alloy; they aren't worth much," he told her, oblivious of Al's glare.

"How sad," she sighed, moving away. "You couldn't even hock them if you needed money, could you, Hamilton Regan Thorndon the Third?"

"My name is Thorn," he said in a tone laced with authority.

She looked up, tossing back her long, silky hair. "That's what your friends call you, I'm sure," she said. "I am not, and never will be, your friend. I will call you Hamilton or Mr. Thorndon the Third or Hey, You. Take your pick."

His eyes were flashing with anger, but she didn't even flinch. He pursed his lips. "Declaring war, honey? Watch out. You're on my turf now."

"I don't have a white flag to my name," she returned with deliberate provocation. Honey. She hated that silky endearment that she'd heard so often in her youth. "And don't call me honey, your worship."

"My God, you're brave," he said tartly.

She corrected him. "I just don't like being walked on," she said, never letting her gaze waver.

His blue eyes searched her face for a long, static moment, while he seemed to be trying to read her mind.

She laughed. "Looking for weak links? I don't have any. I'm every bit as hard as you are."

"You'll need to be," he said.

Recognizing the tone, Al stiffened. "Uh, Sabina, let's see the rest of the house."

She turned her eyes away from Thorn, feeling a weakness in her knees. She had had this tingling feeling for a few seconds, but she didn't dare let him know it.

"Sure," she told Al, taking his hand quickly.

"I'm opening up a new oil field out on the western stretch of the property," Thorn told his brother. "Ride out there with me."

"Now? Like this?" Al asked, indicating his gray suit.

"Change first."

"Want to come along, Sabina?" Al asked.

"She rides?" Thorn laughed mockingly.

"She sure does," Sabina said with a deliberate vacant smile. "She even speaks all by herself, without help."