Courting the Enemy (9 page)

“If you say so,” Anna said skeptically. “But that doesn’t explain what he’s been doing there in the first place.”

“He’s been helping out.”

“You surely don’t need the help of the likes of Grady Blackhawk. Or are you running the ranch into the ground?” Anna asked bitterly.

Karen restrained her temper. Another outburst would solve nothing. “Any time you and Carl would like to come back and take over running this place, you’re more than welcome to. In fact, I’d be delighted to sell it back to you,” she said to remind the woman of the fact that she and Caleb had taken out a mortgage of their own to pay his parents the money they needed to retire. It was the size of that mortgage that had kept them in debt, but Caleb had insisted it was only fair.

“Well, I never…” Anna said. “I’m going to put Carl on. Maybe he can get through to you.”

Karen’s relationship with Caleb’s father had always been more cordial. He had been as hardworking as his son. In fact, if it had been up to Carl, he would have stayed on after the funeral to help out, but Anna had been insistent that they needed to get back to Arizona where she had a brisk social calendar lined up, now that she was happily ensconced in a fancy retirement village.

“Don’t mind Anna,” he said the minute he got on the line. “She just took Caleb’s death real hard. She doesn’t mean half of what she says.”

“But the other half, she does,” Karen pointed out wryly. “I’ve never known which half to listen to.”

“Neither, would be my advice,” he said. “You doing okay, Karen? Hank and Dooley giving you enough help?”

“We’re managing.”

“What about this Blackhawk fellow? Has he been hanging around, like Anna hears?”

Karen sighed, glancing over at the man in question. “He wants the ranch. He’s made an incredible offer.”

Maybe Carl would tell her to go ahead and sell. If she had his permission, maybe this wouldn’t continue to eat away at her, and she could get away from the ranch and from Grady, finally escaping all the memories that haunted her here, good and bad.

“I don’t want that ranch in Blackhawk hands,” Carl said flatly. “If you want to get out, I can understand that. Nobody knows better than I do what a thankless task it is trying to keep a small ranch running in the black. Just promise me you’ll sell to anybody but him. Why should that man be rewarded after all the sneaky, conniving things he and his family have done to us through the years?”

Karen didn’t have an argument for that. Grady had been working hard to prove that she’d misjudged him, but he hadn’t offered any proof at all that he hadn’t been behind the sabotage of their herd. Someone had infected those animals and set fire to that pasture. If not Grady, then who? Until she knew for certain, Carl was right. She couldn’t sell to Grady.

“I won’t do anything at all without talking it over with you,” she promised her father-in-law.

“That’s good enough for me. You take care of yourself, Karen. I don’t want you wearing yourself out at your age out of some misguided sense of loyalty, you hear me? If the time comes when you can’t
do it or even if you just decide you want a different life, then you grab your chance. I love that land, but it’s just land. It’s not worth dying for, the way Caleb did.”

“I love you,” she said to him, tears stinging her eyes.

“You, too. You were a good wife to my boy and I will always be grateful to you for that.”

Karen slowly hung up the phone, not daring to look at Grady.

“The Hansons, I presume,” he said caustically. “Did they manage to restore your sense of purpose?”

“I’m not going to discuss them with you,” she said, already reaching for her coat. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Where are you going?” he asked as she pushed past him.

“To the barn. Not all of us have time to fritter away.”

He stopped her in her tracks. “Is that what you think I’m doing around here, frittering away my time?”

Her gaze clashed with his. “Isn’t it? You have plenty of people working for you, I’m sure, people who do whatever needs doing on your ranch. I don’t. If something needs to be done around here, I do it myself.”

She jerked away from his grasp and ran outside, tears streaking down her face, all but turning to ice in the frigid February air. She headed straight for the barn and Ginger’s stall, leaning against the horse for comfort, absorbing her body heat.

When her tears had dried and her nerves settled, she reached for a brush and began grooming the horse
as a reward for her patience. The steady strokes were soothing to both of them. Eventually she was calm enough to think about what had just happened, not just on her phone, but in her kitchen.

She had taken Anna’s attack out on Grady, no doubt about it. She’d figured he deserved it, since he was the cause of it. The plain truth was, Anna had ladled on guilt and Karen had accepted it because she was riddled with guilt already. Then she had lashed out at the cause.

She owed him an apology. She was the one who’d agreed weeks ago and again the night before to his visits. She had known there would be talk, known deep down that sooner or later it would reach Caleb’s parents and that there would be a price to pay.

What was one more disagreement, one more disapproving lecture, from a woman who hadn’t been any less critical when Caleb had been alive?

Finished in the barn, Karen walked slowly back to the house, where she overheard Grady on the phone.

“I want it taken care of today, do you understand me? This has dragged on long enough.”

Her heart thudded wildly at the implication. Was he tired of trying to outwait her? Was he somehow going to force the issue?

She let the door slam behind her and stood in front of him, her pulse thundering. “What was that about?” she demanded. “What are you up to now?”

The dismay on his face seemed proof enough of his treachery.

“You will not get this ranch,” she said, jabbing a finger in his chest. Because it felt so good, she did it again, and then again, until tears were streaming
down her cheeks and she was pounding on him with her fists. “You won’t, dammit! I won’t let you.”

Grady let her rant until she wound down. Then he gathered her close, murmuring soothing, nonsensical words. Slowly she relaxed against him. Every inch of her was suddenly awakened to the sensation of their bodies pressed together, of his arms tight around her, his breath fanning her cheek.

“It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay,” he reassured her. “That call wasn’t about the ranch, I promise. It was about something else entirely.”

She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe she had misunderstood, but how could she? She lifted her head from his chest to look into his eyes. What she saw there was even more troubling than the treachery she’d suspected. There was hunger and yearning and the kind of seething passion she’d almost forgotten existed.

His gaze locked with hers, he tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks. His thumb caressed her mouth. The flash of heat in his eyes turned brighter. The air around them suddenly felt charged with electricity…and with anticipation.

And then, before Karen could guess his intentions, his mouth covered hers. The kiss was everything she’d ever imagined—and feared. It was devastating. It was pure temptation.

And Grady had stolen it.

If he could steal a kiss so cleverly when she’d been furious with him only moments before, would stealing the land she’d grown to despise be any challenge for him at all?

T
he first time Grady kissed her, Karen reacted with shock and dismay. How could she have let it happen? Why hadn’t she stopped it, slapped him, done anything to show her displeasure?

A quick peck on the lips could be explained away as a hit-and-run gesture, hardly worthy of protest, but this had been more than that. It had gone on and on. There had been plenty of time for the act to register and draw an appropriate protest, rather than weak-kneed compliance.

The taste and feel of him was still on her lips as she took a step back and then another, trembling with what should have been outrage but wasn’t.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded, her back braced against the sink as she finally—belatedly—put as much distance as possible between them.

“Because I’ve been wanting to forever,” he said,
not looking the least bit remorseful. In fact, he looked suspiciously as if he might intend to do it again.

And, God help her, Karen wanted him to. Her pulse was thundering like a summer storm. Her breasts ached. Any second the temptation to reach for him, to slip back into his embrace, would be too much for her.

There was no time to recite all the reasons why it was a terrible idea. Instead, she counted slowly to ten and back again, as if that alone would cool her yearning, as the same technique was used to temper anger.

She heard Grady’s low chuckle and her gaze snapped to his to find amusement lurking in his eyes. “What?” she demanded.

“It’s not going to work,” he told her, clearly understanding the mental war she was waging. “I’m not going away and I
am
going to kiss you again. There’s your fair warning. Never let it be said you didn’t get one.”

She swallowed hard, accepting the warning as pure truth. All that remained was the anticipation.

“When?” she asked, hoping that knowing that much would give her time to prepare, time to win the struggle with a desire that had caught her by surprise.

He tilted his head, studied her intently, then responded solemnly, “Now, I think. Before you work yourself into a frenzy worrying about it.”

She gulped even as he claimed her mouth yet again with even more ingenuity, more wickedly clever passion. This time Karen wasn’t simply an innocent bystander to the kiss, either. She kissed him back, responding to every persuasive nuance. All those protests and denials had been for nothing, because
there was no mistaking that she was as caught up in the moment as he was.

Her head was spinning, her pulse racing. There was so much heat—too much. And the neediness, the overwhelming sense of urgency slammed through her with unexpected force, leaving her reeling. She had never expected to feel like this again, certainly never with Grady Blackhawk.

His name, his identity, finally snagged her attention, cutting through all the other commanding sensations. She was appalled and shaken that she was willingly in the arms of the enemy, though it was getting harder and harder to think of him that way.

Even so, it took her a long time to disengage from his embrace, longer still to take a faltering step back.

“This is my proof,” she murmured, still dazed from the feel of his mouth on hers, but determined to inject a haughty note of disdain into her voice.

“Proof of what?” he said as he trailed more kisses down the side of her neck.

“That you’re a scoundrel and a thief. You stole that kiss,” she accused, managing to get the words out with a straight face, even though she knew it was a blatant lie. He had stolen nothing. She had given it to him willingly.

Laughter filled the air. Evidently he was no more convinced of the lie than she was.

“Maybe the first one, darlin’,” he conceded. “But the second one you gave me of your own free will. You can’t count that one against me, and I’d say it negates the implications of the first one. Once two people start to tango, so to speak, the blame pretty much falls by the wayside.”

She frowned at him. “You would say that, wouldn’t you? It serves your purpose.”

“And what is my purpose?” he asked, studying her with mild curiosity.

“To get my land,” she said at once, but she was no longer as certain as she had once been. A part of her was beginning to believe that he just might be after her, instead.

Grady went home that night and called his private detective, the one he’d had working for weeks to find out who might be behind the sabotage intended to take out the Hanson herd. Karen had walked in on him when he’d called Jarrod Wilcox earlier from her kitchen. He wanted to reemphasize to the man the urgency of the investigation. He needed results fast. He was growing less and less certain about why, though.

At first, he’d merely wanted Karen to know the truth so she could begin to trust him. He’d hoped that that would be the first step to getting her to sell the ranch to him. Now it was all tangled up in something personal. He wanted her trust, because he couldn’t bear to see that condemning look in her eyes one more time.

“I told you this afternoon that this is all but impossible,” Jarrod told him. “For one thing, the incidents took place a year ago or more. If there was any kind of physical evidence, it’s long gone. Seems to me like you’re throwing good money after bad by keeping me on your payroll.”

“If that’s your attitude, maybe I am,” Grady snapped. “Maybe somebody else would approach this
with a more positive attitude, maybe be a little more aggressive.”

“Anybody legitimate would tell you what I’m telling you—forget about this.”

“What about the mortgage? Surely there’s paperwork about any attempt to buy up the Hanson note. The president of the bank didn’t just make that up. He either had a letter or a face-to-face meeting.”

“He claims the latter, and he claims it was with you,” Jarrod said.

“Since I’ve never set foot in that bank, he’s lying, then. Who’s paying him to lie?”

“Have you considered asking him that yourself? It’ll be a whole lot harder for him to pull off the lie if you’re looking him in the eye.”

Grady sighed. “You have a point. I’ll get on that first thing in the morning. Meantime, I want you to look into every person who owns land adjacent to the Hanson ranch. Either somebody wants that land for themselves or they have a reason for keeping me from having it.”

“Will do.”

“By the end of the week,” Grady added.

“It’s Wednesday now.”

“Then you’ll just have to get your butt in gear, won’t you?”

Jarrod sighed. “I’ll be in touch.”

Grady impatiently jammed the phone back in its cradle, only to realize that his grandfather was standing in the doorway, regarding him with curiosity. He crossed the room in three quick strides to embrace the man who meant more to him than anyone.

Even at seventy-five his grandfather was an impressive man. His thick black hair fell past his shoul
ders in braids that were streaked with gray. His tanned face was carved with deep lines, his black eyes intense, his bearing proud.

Thomas Blackhawk took a step back, his hands on Grady’s shoulders, and studied his face. “You look troubled.”

“Exasperated,” Grady said.

“Perhaps you should spend some time with me up in the mountains,” Thomas suggested. “It might give you some peace and some perspective.”

“I imagine it would,” Grady agreed. “But right now I don’t have the time.”

His grandfather’s weathered face creased with a half smile. “All the more reason to come, don’t you think?”

“I’ll think about it,” Grady promised. He gestured to a chair. “Can I get you something? Coffee? A drink? I have some of that disgusting orange soda you love so much.”

“That would be good. And a man who lives on caffeine has no room to criticize my choice of beverage.”

Grady brought his grandfather the bottle of soda. “What brings you all the way down here? Usually if I want to see you this time of year, I have to come to you.”

“I have heard some troubling things.”

Grady’s gaze narrowed. “About?”

“You.”

Uh-oh, Grady thought. The meddling Hansons were innocent babes in the wood compared to his grandfather. “Oh?” he said, keeping his expression neutral.

“You have been spending time with the Hanson widow, true?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You are not pressuring her to sell you the land, are you?”

“We’ve discussed it,” he said, choosing his words carefully. They had been over this ground before. But Grady believed that despite his grandfather’s denials in recent years, he wanted that land returned to the Blackhawk family. He’d just tired of the futile battle.

His grandfather regarded him with resignation. “Why can’t I make you see that this is unnecessary? For years I told your father to let it be, but he refused to listen. You are the same. That land means nothing to me.”

“It is Blackhawk land,” Grady said fiercely.

“It
was
Blackhawk land.”

“It was stolen from our ancestors.”

“At a troubling time in our history,” his grandfather agreed. He peered at Grady intently. “Tell me something. Do you need this land for your ranch?”

“No, of course not. It’s not even near here.”

“Nor do I,” his grandfather said. “So why are you stirring things up, if it is no longer of any importance to us?”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Grady said.

“Is this principle more important than the woman?”

So, Grady thought with a sigh, his grandfather had heard that there was more between Grady and Karen than a battle over acres of ranch land.

“One thing has nothing to do with the other,” Grady replied, mouthing the lie that was becoming second nature to him.

“Explain that to me,” his grandfather said. “It seems to me the two are inevitably intertwined.”

“I can keep them separate,” Grady insisted.

“Can she?” Thomas Blackhawk rose stiffly to his feet. “Think long and hard before you choose unwisely and trade one thing for another. It would not be the first time one of our people made that mistake.”

“Meaning?”

“That things are not always what they seem at first glance. And there are many ways to bring things full circle.”

Grady regarded him with impatience. “And I suppose that your enigmatic response is all you intend to say?”

“For now,” his grandfather agreed, his eyes twinkling.

“Riddles,” Grady muttered. “I ask for advice, and all I get are riddles.”

“You are the brightest of my grandsons. Use your intelligence to figure them out.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then listen to your heart.”

His grandfather’s words lingered long after he had gone. Grady was up all night thinking, but he couldn’t seem to convince himself to stray from his original course of action. For too many years he had lived with the need to see that land restored to the Blackhawks. The memory of his ancestors deserved that, even if those living no longer thought it mattered.

It was only after hours of tossing and turning that he understood the second part of what his grandfather had been trying to tell him. In effect, his grandfather had given his blessing to a relationship between
Grady and Karen. But what was that nonsense about bringing things full circle?

Another riddle, he concluded with a sigh. His grandfather was a master of them. Unfortunately, Grady seldom had the patience to unravel them, not with the very real mystery of the sabotage to the Hanson herd standing between him and his goal.

Grady walked into the First National Bank of Winding River promptly at nine o’clock and headed straight for the president’s office. Ignoring the secretary’s indignant protests, he strolled into Nathaniel Grogan’s office.

“Shall I call security, sir?” Miss Ames asked, casting a look of alarm in Grady’s direction.

Grogan waved her off. “I can handle the gentleman.”

“Could be you’re being overly optimistic,” Grady observed when the door had closed behind the indignant secretary.

“What’s on your mind, Grady?”

Grady nodded at the acknowledgment of his identity. He’d known Nate for years, so it seemed highly unlikely that the man would have mistaken an impostor for him, which meant that face-to-face meeting he’d claimed had been a blatant lie.

“I’m sure you can figure that out,” Grady told him.

“The mortgage on the Hanson land.”

Grady gave him an exaggerated look of approval. “Bingo.”

“What about it?”

“Apparently you told Caleb Hanson that I tried to buy up that mortgage. You told the same thing to Jarrod Wilcox. Yes or no?”

“I told them that, yes.”

“Even though you know it’s a blatant lie.”

“I don’t know that.” Grogan reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a file. “Here’s the paperwork, all filled out nice and proper. That’s your signature at the bottom.”

Grady’s gaze narrowed as he studied the paper. “It’s a damn fine forgery,” he said at last.

“Are you telling me that’s not your handwriting?” the man asked, clearly taken aback.

“That’s what I’m telling you. I never filled out that paperwork. And whoever witnessed it and said I did is lying.”

The old man seemed shaken by his vehemence. “Let me get Miss Ames in here. That’s her notary seal on this.”

He buzzed for his secretary. “In here now, Miss Ames.”

The door opened at once, but the woman was slow to enter. “Yes, Mr. Grogan?”

“I want you to take a look at something.”

She edged around Grady, then took the papers her boss held out.

“Is that your stamp on there?” Grogan asked.

She looked it over carefully, then nodded.

“And is this the man you saw sign those papers?” he demanded.

Another flicker of alarm flashed in her eyes as she glanced Grady’s way. Her response was inaudible.

“What was that?” Grogan snapped. “Speak up, Miss Ames.”

“I said no, sir. I’ve never met this gentleman.”

“
This
is Grady Blackhawk,” Nate told her. “Now my next question is, who in hell signed the papers?”

Miss Ames seemed to shrink inside her smart business suit. “I don’t actually know,” she said, then burst into tears.

Both men stared at her incredulously, but Grady was the first to speak. “Aren’t you supposed to witness something before using your seal?”