Man on a Mission (7 page)

Despite her protest, he fell into step beside her as
she started toward her cottage. “Brian told me to come to dinner tomorrow,” he said.

“Yes, so he said.” A deep, eerie howl split the quiet of the night. “What's that?” April asked, the hairs on the nape of her neck rising.

“Coyote.” Mark pointed up to the fat, almost round moon. “It's pretty close to a coyote moon.”

“Coyote moon?” She looked up at him curiously as they reached her front door.

“A full moon. It makes the coyotes cry and people go crazy.” He reached up and touched the back of his head. “It was a coyote moon on the night I got hurt.”

“I'm sorry somebody hurt you, Mark.” And she was dreadfully sorry. She could only guess at what his potential might have been, and the thought took her breath away. “Again, thank you for bringing me home,” she said as she unlocked her front door.

“Don't walk in the desert again.”

She turned back to him and smiled. “I promise I won't.”

He nodded, then before she could even guess his intentions, he stepped toward her and kissed her. The action was so unexpected, she had no immediate defenses.

His lips captured hers with cool confidence and a mastery that, someplace in the back of her mind, astonished her. Whatever inadequacies his injury had caused him, none of them were evident in his kiss. He used his tongue to deepen the kiss, skillfully sending rivulets of fire throughout her body as his arms encircled her and pulled her tight against him.

For just a moment, a single, exquisite moment, she
responded and allowed herself to fall into the pleasure of the kiss. And just as quickly reality set in, and all the reasons she shouldn't be kissing Mark filled her head.

With a gasp she stepped back from him, her head reeling with the enormity of what they had just done. “Mark, I…you…we shouldn't have done that.”

He was already walking away. “'Night, April,” he said over his shoulder. “I'll see you tomorrow night.”

She watched helplessly as he disappeared into the night. Her mouth still burned from the intimate contact with his. The kiss had awakened an ache deep within her, an ache she had no intention of assuaging.

She tipped her head back and stared up at the full moon. Coyote moon. The kind of moon that makes people do crazy things. It was the only explanation for her momentary lapse of judgment.

The kiss had changed things. His kiss had made her realize he was attracted to her as a man to a woman. He'd moved their tenuous relationship into an unexpected arena, and she knew it was up to her to call a halt to things before they completely progressed out of control. Tomorrow night, after Mark ate Brian's special hamburgers, she and the handsome cowboy had to have a difficult talk—for his sake and for her own, as well.

 

The taste of her mouth lingered while he brushed down the huge horse, as did the heat of her body pressed so close against his.

He hadn't intended to kiss her. When the impulse had struck him, he had just followed it to its pleasur
able conclusion. And what a pleasure it had been. If he'd had his way he'd have carried her into her cottage and made love to her, swept all other worries and fears and bad things out of his head and simply indulged himself in the selfish pleasure of enjoying her body.

Releasing a sigh of frustration, he brushed the horse's coat with more force, trying to work out the ball of energy that burned in his stomach.

He was nearly finished with the horse when he heard voices approaching the stable. Two men stood just outside the door, apparently unaware of his presence inside.

“The boss says to prepare for a big shipment in about two weeks time.” Mark instantly recognized Billy Carr's voice.

“I don't know,” the second deep voice replied, a voice Mark didn't recognize. “I don't like it. Things are getting too out of hand. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

“You can't back out now,” Billy said, a mean tone in his voice. “You're in as deep as the rest of us. Don't do anything stupid.”

“I'm not. All I'm saying is that we've been lucky so far. Maybe it's time to quit the whole operation.”

Every muscle in Mark's body tensed, and adrenaline flooded through him. Operation? Was this what Marietta had discovered?

“We don't quit until the boss says we quit,” Billy replied angrily.

Mark needed to see the man Billy was talking to. This was the first real substantial clue that something was happening here at the ranch.

He put the horse in the stall, then ambled out the door. With a grin he said, “Hi, Billy.” He tensed, praying his act would serve him well.

Billy jumped in surprise and the man next to him muttered a curse beneath his breath. “Mark, buddy. I didn't know you were in there.” He grabbed Mark by the shoulder and slapped him on the back. “Larry, this here is Mark Delaney.”

The man named Larry muttered another curse and pulled his hat down farther as if to obscure his features. Billy laughed, an unpleasant deep chuckle and slapped Mark on the back once again. “Don't worry, Larry. There's no grain in Mark's silo, if you get my drift.”

Larry frowned and eyed Mark suspiciously. Mark kept the fool smile stretched across his lips.

“So, what are you guys doing out here?” Mark asked.

“Just looking at the moon,” Billy said. “It's a beauty tonight.”

“Yeah, a coyote moon.” Mark looked up, but shot a surreptitious glance at Larry, memorizing the man's features in his brain. He didn't know who Larry was—but he would find out before the next day was over.

“Shouldn't you get inside?” Billy asked.

“I could stay out here and watch the moon with you guys,” Mark replied. Larry cursed again beneath his breath. Mark decided to take a gamble. “Are you sick, Billy?” he asked curiously.

“Never been better, why would you think I was sick?”

Mark could feel his foolish smile firmly in place. “I thought you said something about an operation.”

Larry shot a worried glance to Billy. “Yeah, I've been checking into operations for you. You know, brain surgery to make you smart.” He sniggered and elbowed Larry, who didn't look amused by any of it.

Mark was not amused, either. But he was definitely filled with adrenaline. “That's real nice of you, Billy.”

“I'm out of here,” Larry replied. “We'll talk later.” He didn't wait for a reply, but instead disappeared into the shadows of the night.

“You better get inside the house, Mark,” Billy said.

Mark knew there was nothing more to be learned here at the moment. “'Night, Billy.”

As he walked toward the main house, his mind whirled. Marietta had been right. The brief conversation he'd overhead was his first real proof that there was something going on here, something that involved Billy and Larry—and something certainly illegal.

Drugs? They'd spoken of a shipment coming in. Was it possible the ranch was being used to run drugs between the states and Mexico?

Mark's blood ran cold at the very thought that the ranch he loved, the ranch their father had sweated blood and tears over, might be in use for nefarious purposes. Billy had talked about the boss. Who was the boss in the operation?

It would have to be somebody intimately acquainted with the ranch hands, somebody who would know who would be interested in a little illegal cash
on the side. Matthew? Sheriff Broder? Any number of people could be the boss.

When Mark entered the house, he heard the voices of his sister and brothers drifting out of the family room. Their conversation wasn't the soft sounds of a family visiting, but rather strident and discordant.

Mark felt as if he were on sensory overload. First, the sweet, sensual kiss with April, then those moments of discovery with Billy and Larry. He needed time to think, time to process it all.

He started past the family room door but was halted by Matthew's voice. “Mark!”

With a sigh Mark backtracked and entered the large room. Matthew stood at the wet bar, while Luke and Johnna were seated on the sofa. “Hi,” he said.

“Where in the hell have you been?” Matthew demanded, his features taut.

Mark shrugged, fighting a healthy dose of indignation. “Out,” he replied.

“You know I've told you not to be out after dark,” Matthew replied.

“For God's sake, Matthew,” Johnna protested. “You treat Mark like he's a little boy with a curfew.”

Matthew shot Johnna a warning glare, and Mark suddenly felt weary beyond belief. The undercurrents that were constantly at work between his siblings exhausted him, and it angered him that their father had never taught them how to be a real family.

“I'm tired,” Mark said. He was far too tired to listen to them fight. Eventually, if they intended to hang on to the ranch, they were going to have to figure out how to get along with each other.

At the moment it didn't seem to matter that some
outside source might threaten the ranch. Mark suspected the biggest threat the ranch faced was the one from within—the Delaney siblings themselves.

Mark headed for his bedroom, the burden of his deception weighing heavy in his heart. He'd like to share the burden with somebody, but who?

The rational answer was to talk to his brothers and sister, but how could he overlook the possibility that one of them might be responsible for an illegal operation? And if Marietta had been killed to silence her, then it was possible one of the members of his own family was guilty of murder.

I
t was easy for April, in the light of day, to rationalize away the power, the absolute wonder of Mark's kiss, as Brian chattered on about his night with Ricky and she made pancakes.

Still, that didn't keep the memory of their kiss from haunting her subconscious. Her lips had burned throughout the night, and her dreams had been erotic ones of Mark making love to her with the same mastery and skill that his kiss had possessed.

Of course the kiss had affected her, she thought as she poured the first pancake onto the awaiting griddle, it had been years since she'd been kissed at all. Like Sleeping Beauty, she'd been awakened by Mark's kiss. It had stirred emotions and sensations she'd believed forgotten.

But, of course, it was a kiss that wouldn't, couldn't be repeated. It had been an impulse on his part, and just as impulsively she had responded.

She liked Mark. She found him warm and pleasant and overwhelmingly attractive. And if she looked deep within herself, she'd have to admit that there was a part of her that was drawn to what everyone else saw as his mental inadequacies.

He appeared incapable of deception, open and uncomplicated in his thought process. So unlike Derrick, who had lied almost every time he'd spoken to her during their three-year marriage. Derrick, who had smoothly betrayed her heart.

Her heart had eventually healed, but it had taken longer to deal with the havoc he'd wreaked on her financial status. He'd used their joint credit cards to finance a lifestyle far beyond what their resources would allow. April hadn't realized how deeply they were in trouble until Derrick had left her, leaving behind a tribe of angry creditors.

And what little financial resources April had finally managed to regain, her own father had ultimately “borrowed” and lost, leaving her and Brian virtually destitute.

These two betrayals, deep and devastating, had left April with a deep wariness and a reluctance to ever trust again.

But Mark was definitely different from the men in April's past. Nonthreatening, refreshingly candid and seemingly gentle, he drew her to him.

If she were truly honest with herself, she would have to admit that he wasn't nonthreatening in a physical sense. He threatened her with the heat of his eyes, the fire of his touch, the masculine sexuality that promised pleasure beyond compare.

However, she'd been soundly warned to stay away from him.

“Mom, are you going to feed me burned pancakes?” Brian asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She quickly flipped the smoking pancake, then added another to the griddle, trying to shove all thoughts of Mark out of her head as she finished the breakfast preparations.

“Did you take the hamburger and buns out of the freezer?” Brian asked a moment later as he stuffed a particularly large bite of food into his mouth.

“Yes, and I'll make some baked beans and deviled eggs.”

“Great.” Brian chewed for a moment, then continued. “I told him to be here around five.”

“I'm sure he'll be here right on time,” April assured her son. And after they had a pleasant meal, April had to have an unpleasant conversation with Mark.

She had to explain to him that she would be his friend, but she wouldn't kiss him anymore. She didn't want to lead him on, but she secretly realized she didn't want to lead herself on, either.

After breakfast Brian took off for the stables, and April settled down at the table with a fresh cup of coffee and Marietta's file in front of her.

It was about noon when a knock sounded at the door. She opened it to see a tall, dark-haired woman with the trademark Delaney strong features and dark gray eyes. “Hi. I'm Johnna Delaney.” She gave April's hand a businesslike shake. “Matthew asked me to drop by and bring you the list of the guests who'll be arriving soon. He thought having the list
might help you set up your social schedule. He also found another file of Marietta's notes.”

“Thank you,” April took the sheath of paper from the woman.

Johnna leaned back on her heels and studied April for a long moment. “So, you're April, Mark's new friend.”

April nodded, steeling herself for yet another round of warnings from a protective sibling.

“Despite the injuries he suffered, Mark is still one of the best, kindest men in the entire state of Arizona,” Johnna said.

April raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I agree. He's been very kind to me and my son.”

“And even though he has some problems getting his thoughts together, he's smarter than most of the cowboys working on this ranch.” Johnna's voice held a touch of anger, an anger overlying what appeared to be a fierce protectiveness.

April offered her a tentative smile. “You're preaching to the choir, Ms. Delaney.”

Johnna offered no answering smile. “I just want to let you know that it's apparent Mark thinks a lot of you. Please don't take advantage of him, and try not to hurt him.”

April frowned irritably. “Ms. Delaney, I don't intend to take advantage of Mark in any way. He's been a friend since we've arrived. That's all, end of story.”

“It's no skin off my back if you want to be more than friends,” Johnna countered. “But you should know one thing. This ranch is never going to make it, and when it goes under, all the Delaney money is going to go to our crazy aunt Clara who will probably
spend the fortune buying little fur coats and jeweled collars for her hundreds of cats.”

April glared at the woman indignantly. “You are the second Delaney to subtly accuse me of being a gold digger. You don't know me. You know nothing about the kind of person I am.”

April's steam grew more intense. “And I'll tell you something else—if you and your bulldog brother, Matthew, think the only reason a woman would be attracted to Mark is for any money he might possess, you are sadly underestimating him.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified by the words that had just erupted from her. Had she really just called Matthew Delaney a bulldog?

Johnna's eyes widened as she stared at April. Then, without warning, she laughed. “Matthew does have more than his share of bulldog tendencies, doesn't he?”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that,” April replied, her cheeks burning with flames of mortification. Terrific, she'd probably just lost herself a job.

“No, please, don't ruin it by apologizing,” Johnna said, her smile suddenly friendly. “I think I'm going to like you after all, April Cartwright.” Johnna stepped off the porch, her quicksilver smile once again gone. “I've got to get back. Nice to have you on the team, April.”

April watched as Johnna strode away, her shoulders rigid with what appeared to be attitude.

April wasn't sure what she thought of Johnna Delaney. She appeared to be cut from the same cloth as Matthew—rather stern and with a hard gaze to her
eyes. When she'd laughed, it had sounded rusty, as if laughter was an unfamiliar expression for her.

April went back to the table, carrying the sheet of paper Johnna had brought to her. Johnna had indicated that it was possible the ranch might somehow be lost. Were there financial problems? If so, then what money would go to their crazy aunt Clara? April frowned. It didn't make sense.

She poured herself another cup of coffee, deciding the Delaneys' business was not hers. She'd work here as long as possible and hopefully put enough money away so that if the ranch did go under and she lost her job, she and Brian would have a little something to fall back on.

It's no skin off my back if you want to be more than friends.
Johnna's words echoed in April's mind, and once again her thoughts turned to Mark… Mark, who had kissed her with a depth and fire that had to be addressed. Despite Johnna giving her a nod of approval, April couldn't ignore Matthew's warning.

She also had to look at the bigger picture. Despite her attraction to him, Mark could never be what she needed in her life. She needed a man who could be a strong role model for Brian, a man who would be less a peer and more a father figure.

Definitely she had to tell Mark that he couldn't kiss her anymore. And she intended to address that subject this evening.

Shoving all thoughts of Delaneys out of her mind, she got back to work. It was late afternoon when Brian flew in to make his super hamburger patties. He rummaged in the spices, adding a pinch of this and a dot of that to the meat.

He hummed a nonsensical tune beneath his breath as he worked, and April feared it was the pleasure of knowing Mark was coming to dinner that had him happy.

“Mom, why don't you change your clothes before Mark gets here,” Brian suggested when the hamburgers were sizzling in the skillet and the beans were bubbling in the oven.

“What's wrong with what I have on?” she asked, looking down at her worn jeans and T-shirt.

Brian frowned at her. “You just would look better in one of those dresses you have. And maybe you could fluff up your hair or something.”

April raked a hair through her tousled curls and stared at her son. He's trying to matchmake, she thought in surprise. And yet, why should that surprise her?

She knew better than anyone how desperate Brian was for a father figure in his life. He had quickly grown fond of Mark. Why wouldn't he try to get the two of them together?

“Brian,” she began patiently. “I know you like Mark, but there's not going to be anything between me and Mark, so you can just get that idea right out of your head.”

“You don't know that,” he protested as he removed the burgers from the skillet.

“I do know that,” she replied firmly.

Still, a few moments later as Brian went out to wait for Mark, April went into her bedroom and changed her T-shirt, opting to wear a pale pink blouse instead.

It had nothing to do with trying to look attractive for Mark, she told herself as she finger combed her
hair. She would have freshened up for anyone who was coming to dinner. She picked up a tube of lipstick, but threw it back on the dresser before she could apply any.

“Hey, Mom,” Brian called from the front door. “Step outside. Mark wants to show you something.”

April left her bedroom, walked through the tiny living room and stepped out on the porch. Instantly a rope whirled over her head, fell down over her shoulders and pulled tight to capture her arms against her sides.

“You got her, Mark!” Brian squealed in delight.

Mark stood some distance away, the other end of the lasso in his hands. He grinned lazily. “Sure looks like I've got her.”

As Mark began to reel her in, tugging the rope to pull her off the porch and toward him, Brian clapped and cheered.

“Mark, let me go,” April said, attempting to remove herself from the lasso but finding the rope too tight to work her arms out.

Ricky appeared nearby, motioning to Brian and talking excitedly about a new video game he'd just gotten. The two boys disappeared around the corner of the cottage.

Closer and closer Mark pulled April toward him, his sensual smile evoking heat through her.

“Mark, let me go,” she said with a forced laugh. “I feel like a prize steer.”

His grin widened. “You're much prettier than a prize steer.” They were mere inches apart now, so close she could see the blue flecks that lightened the
dark gray of his eyes. “I think before I let you go, I should kiss you again.”

“I don't think you should do that,” April replied, her breath catching in her chest.

“Why not? I like kissing you.” His eyes twinkled and his smile widened. “And I think you like kissing me.”

“Just because you like something doesn't mean you should do it,” she protested.

“Why not?”

“Mark, please let me go.”

With his eyes still sparkling evocatively, he did as she bade. As he removed the rope, his hands lightly caressed her bare arms, shooting tendrils of heat up her shoulders and down to her fingertips.

Whatever inadequacies he might suffer, they weren't apparent in his utter sexiness. She stepped back from him, back far enough that she couldn't smell his scent—the fragrance of wind and sun and a touch of spice.

“The hamburgers are ready,” she said. “Brian,” she yelled, and her son reappeared from around the side of cottage. “It's time to eat.”

“Ricky got a new video game. After dinner can I go over and play?” Brian asked.

“We'll see,” April said. Actually, that would work out perfectly. Brian could go to Ricky's house while April had her difficult talk with Mark.

She had to make him understand that they could be friends. But friends didn't kiss with such depth and longing, and friends didn't look at each other as if they wanted to devour the other.

As the heat of his touch slowly ebbed, she reiter
ated in her mind that, definitely, it was time to have a talk with Mark.

 

As Mark sat at the table with mother and son, he studied April. She looked particularly fetching in a feminine pink blouse that brought a blush of color to her cheeks.

A surge of desire welled up inside him, and his fingers tingled with the tactile memory of the feel of her skin as he'd removed the lasso from around her.

“So…what do you think?” Brian asked, interrupting Mark's thoughts. He pointed to the hamburger Mark was eating.

“It's really good, Brian.” Mark smiled at the boy, who eyed him eagerly. “You're a real good cook.”

Brian beamed beneath the praise. “I couldn't make them like I usually do 'cause we didn't have all the spices I needed, but I did the best I could.”

“They're terrific, Brian,” April said, her gaze soft and loving as it rested on her son.

A flash of memory swept through Mark…a memory of his own mother gazing at him in that very same way. The memory surprised him with its vividness.

He'd been five years old when his mother had died giving birth to Johnna and he hadn't realized the depth of his deprivation until this moment, seeing April gaze at Brian.