Lone Stallion's Lady (3 page)

“She did, but Lily Mae put her two cents in.”

Jordan’s back teeth ground together as he thought of the Kincaid ranch—the place where he’d worked his tail off as a kid, the ranch that had been promised to him. “You know that spread is supposed to be mine. Ours. It used to be called the Baxter place before the Kincaids swindled it from us.”

Hope sighed and a sadness settled in her eyes. Once
again he felt an incredible urge to protect her, for she was the light of his life.

“Why don’t you give it up, Dad?” she asked. “What’s your fascination with the Kincaid place, anyway? I know when Uncle Cameron owned the ranch he promised it to you, but that was years ago. And you’ve got so much already.”

That much was true. Jordan had made his own fortune years ago working for an investment firm in New York. Young, fresh out of college, and determined to put his poor roots behind him, he’d taken to investment banking like a fish to water. But his roots were here. In Whitehorn. Though he now owned thousands of acres in the county, none meant anything to him. The old Baxter place did. When times had been tough, it had been his home. He felt a lump rise in his throat and steadfastly swallowed it back.

“You know, Dad, you could buy and sell a dozen places around here. All of them would put the Kincaid ranch to shame.”

“It’s not about money, darlin’,” he said, wishing his only child understood, but then, she hadn’t experienced the grinding poverty he had, nor endured the taunts from some of the wealthier kids in Whitehorn that he’d heard while growing up. The worst had been the disparaging remarks and mean-spirited gibes that had been cast his way by the Kincaid boys. “Nope, it’s not about money at all, Hope,” he repeated, his voice a little rough. “It’s about pride. Family pride. That’s all that matters in this world and it’s time you knew it.”

“When did you say Garrett was due back?” Gina asked, wondering how she could possibly make small talk with this man.

“I didn’t. The foreman—”

“Rand Harding,” she said automatically.

Trent nodded. “He wasn’t sure, but didn’t think it would be long.”

Gina mentally crossed her fingers. The less time alone she had with Trent, the better.

“So, I guess this would be a good time for you and I to get to know each other,” he suggested, resting a hip against the railing. “If I recall correctly, we have some unfinished business between us.”

More than you know, she thought, her mouth suddenly desert dry. She decided it would be best to keep her secret to herself. Until she was certain.

“You’re talking about Dallas.” Her heart kicked into overdrive as she thought about that night. He stared at her so hard she found it difficult to take a breath. Oh, Lord, why wasn’t she immune to him? Why hadn’t she forgotten him after that one star-spangled night they’d shared? Why was she such an idiot where he was concerned? “I don’t think we should go into that.”

“Why not?”

Unspoken accusations fairly crackled in the warm spring air. “Because there’s no point to it. We had a night together, it was a mistake, and that’s the end of it.”

He grabbed her arm as if he expected her to flee. “Not exactly the end. We’re both here now.”

“So we are,” she said, wishing she was anyplace else on earth other than standing toe-to-toe with him, sandal to scruffy boot, feeling his work-roughened fingertips on her skin and smelling the faint seductive scent of the aftershave he’d been wearing when she’d first met him. For a second she thought he might kiss her the way he had in Dallas. Her throat caught and it took all her strength to yank her arm free of him. “But I don’t think we need to go into all that.”

Thankfully, the old dog ambled up the steps to lay at her feet. “Some watchdog you are,” she said, grateful for an excuse to not stare into Trent’s silently accusing eyes. She reached down and scratched the mutt behind his ears. His dark eyes regarded her warmly, a wet, pink tongue slid out of the side of his mouth and he rolled over, offering her his belly to be rubbed.

“Seems like you’ve made a friend for life,” Trent observed.

And right now I need each and every one, she thought.

The sound of a truck engine reached Gina’s ears and she turned to see a big pickup lumbering down the lane. Piled high with sacks of grain, the bed sat low over the tires. Behind the wheel, aviator sunglasses in place, was Garrett Kincaid, the patriarch of a brood of six, maybe even seven, illegitimate grandchildren. Gina had never actually met any of the grown men and women who had Kincaid blood running through their veins.

Except for Trent.

And that meeting had proved a disaster of monumental proportions. In his case—and in his case only—she had let her personal curiosity overcome her self-imposed rule to distance herself from her clients.

“See, now, you didn’t have to wait so long, after all,” Trent said sarcastically. “Let’s go have a chat with Gramps, shall we?”

He grabbed her wrist, making her pulse jump. With long, ground-eating strides he half dragged her as he made his way toward the stables where Garrett had parked beneath a solitary pine tree.

“Just wait a minute,” she said as she jogged to keep up with him. She jerked her arm free. “I, um, I think it would be best if Garrett didn’t know anything about what happened between you and me in Dallas,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks stain with color that had nothing to do with the intensity of the sun. He didn’t say a word, just waited, eyes narrowed, cords at the back of his neck standing out above the sun-bleached collar of his shirt.

“He wouldn’t approve?”

“It’s not that, but—”

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’. I’m not the kind to kiss and tell.” Trent’s smile was pure saccharine.

She felt like a damned fool. “Good, because what happened between us had nothing to do with you being Garrett’s grandson. You’re the only one I ever met and…well…” She let her voice trail off; there was just no reason to go into it any further.

“Only one. You mean, you didn’t meet Blake?”

She nodded. “Nor any of the other brothers.”

He froze. “’Other brothers’?”

She hesitated. “Garrett didn’t tell you?”

His jaw slid to one side. “Why don’t you?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, she supposed. He’d learn soon enough. “Larry Kincaid fathered six sons out of wedlock, quite possibly seven.”

Trent’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you trying to tell me that, besides me and my twin, there are five others? That I’ve got five half brothers?”

“Well, actually, you have six half brothers, excluding your twin, and a half sister. Larry had a son, Collin, and daughter, Melanie, with his wife Sue Ellen. The rest were the result of his affairs with several different women.”

Trent stared at her as if she’d gone mad. “That’s impossible,” he said as the conveyer loading the hay bales rumbled and a calf in a nearby field bawled plaintively. “No one’s that stupid. Not in this day and age.”

“It would be better for Garrett to explain this,” she said, realizing she’d said too much. “He can tell you about your father.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said slowly, his nostrils flaring just a bit as he leaned down to drill her with those incredible blue eyes. “Larry Kincaid is
not
my father. It takes a helluva lot more than a one-night stand for a man to earn that title.”

“I suppose.” She swallowed hard at the irony in his words.

He glanced to the parking area near the stables where
Garrett was climbing out of his truck. “And as for what happened in Dallas, I’ll keep it to myself. For now.”

“Good.”

“Now I think it’s time to get a few things straight with the old man.” With that he strode toward the truck and left Gina behind, feeling like an utter fool.

Trent zeroed in on the man who claimed to be his grandfather as the older man walked around a dented fender of the truck.

“You must be Trent.” Garrett removed his sunglasses, stuffed them into a pocket of his faded plaid shirt and extended his hand. “Here a bit early, aren’t you?”

“I guess I just couldn’t wait.”

“Fair enough.” Garrett’s smile was rock-steady. “Glad to finally meet you. Sorry it took so long.”

Trent took the older man’s hand. Garrett’s clasp was strong and sure, his face weathered, his straight hair nearly silver. There was a trace of Native American in him, the coppery skin and high cheekbones giving testament to it, but his eyes were a startling blue. Intense enough that, Trent guessed, they could cut through any amount of bull slung in the old man’s direction. “So, what do I call you? Gramps?” He couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone. Trent had learned long ago not to rely on family. A man made his own way in the world. Period. He relied on no one.

“Garrett will do.”

“Good.”

“I guess I should start out by apologizing for my son.” Pain stole through the old man’s eyes. “I had no
idea that you or any of the others existed.” He lifted his hands and from the corner of his eye, Trent noticed that Gina had joined them in the shade of the tree and the old dog had followed suit, ambling across the sun-dappled gravel to sit at Garrett’s feet.

“It’s not your fault.”

Garrett rubbed his chin. “No, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad or obligated to make it up to you and the others.”

“Maybe no one wants anything.”

“Maybe.” Garrett didn’t seem convinced, and Trent realized this was a sincere man, one who was embarrassed by his son. Trent’s biological father.

It seemed that Larry Kincaid was a far worse choice for being a father or role model than Harold Remmington, the man Trent’s mother had passed off as his and his twin’s father. Harold had been a decent enough guy, Trent supposed, if you liked wimps. Trent didn’t.

But, hell, Larry Kincaid?

“You’ve met Gina, I see,” Garrett said, hitching his chin in the woman’s direction.

“Just.”

Gina—if that was her real name—managed a smile that seemed well-practiced at best. Oh, she was a looker, he’d grant her that. He’d noticed her right off in the DeMarco Hotel’s patio bar. She’d walked into the bar, alone, and he’d felt something like the soft touch of a finger at his nape. He’d looked up and found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long,
long while. Her red hair, cut in soft layers, had framed a perfectly oval face of white skin dusted with a few freckles. Her eyes, a deep green fringed with gold-tipped lashes, had seemed to sparkle in the moon glow. A pouty little smile that he’d found absolutely fascinating had been his undoing. From the first second he’d laid eyes on her, he’d determined that he would seduce her.

Right now, he noticed the rosy glow that had come to her cheeks. So she was embarrassed. She should be. She’d lied to him. And gotten caught. Trent had no use for liars. They were worse than wimps.

“We’ve actually met once before,” she admitted, shaking Garrett’s hand with a familiarity that bothered Trent. It was as if they were in on a very private secret—one that involved him. “Briefly. In Dallas.”

Garrett raised a silver eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

“Maybe we should go somewhere and sort this all out,” Trent suggested, suddenly uncomfortable. He looked to the sky and saw a hawk circling and high above that, the fading wake of a jet slicing across the wide Montana sky.

“Good idea. We’ll meet up at the house,” Garrett suggested. “I suppose you both brought your things.”

“Mine are in the car, but I’ll take a room in town,” Gina said quickly.

Garrett scowled. “Nonsense. We’ve got plenty of room and I’d like you close at hand.”

She
was moving in? Here?

“Let’s get your bags inside.”

“What about you?” He slid a glance at his grandson.

“I already talked to Rand. He showed me up to a room at the main house. He seemed to think it would be okay with you.” Trent glanced at the two-storied home sitting upon a slight rise.

“More than okay. Just as long as you’re all settled in.”

“For a while,” Trent said. He scratched his forearm and asked a question that had been bothering him. “I suppose you contacted Blake?”

“Yes. Talked to him this morning. Said he’d give you a call.”

“I guess he missed me.”

“And you didn’t call him?”

“No.”

Trent shook his head and didn’t elaborate as he, along with Garrett, walked Gina to her Explorer. No reason to get into his problems with his twin right now. He had a feeling it would all come out soon enough.

“Blake will be here next week,” Garrett said as Gina opened the back of her car. “So will the others.” Trent was faced with half a dozen bags. This lady didn’t know the meaning of traveling light. “A regular family reunion.” Trent pulled out a medium-size bag.

“Or irregular,” Garrett corrected.

Trent’s eyes narrowed as he considered the man who had sired him. “Eight kids by six different women. Didn’t Larry know anything about birth control?”

“I guess not.” Garrett scowled as he grabbed a bag. “And I’d say it’s damned lucky for you that he didn’t.”

G
ina dropped her suitcase onto the bed and mentally kicked herself from one side of the sparse room to the other. Trent Remmington—why was he the one who’d shown up unannounced? What kind of cruel irony was that? Any of the other heirs she could have dealt with, but not Trent. Not until she was ready to face him again…and then again, maybe not ever. But all that had changed.

She hung up her few dresses in a closet about the size of a coffin, then refolded several pairs of jeans and T-shirts and placed them in a tall oak bureau. Glancing at her reflection in the cracked oval mirror attached to the bureau, she saw the wild state of her hair and the remainder of what had once been her makeup.

“Great,” she groaned. She was cranky and out of
sorts—probably just because she’d had to face Trent again. Certainly there was no other reason, right?

Biting her lower lip, she touched her tight, flat abdomen.

Was it possible? Could she be pregnant? Seeing Trent again only reinforced her worries. She’d never been one of those women whose menstrual cycle was like clockwork, but even she was overdue for her period.

“It’s just your nerves,” she said, picking up her brush and working it through the tangles in her hair. “This case has got you in knots.”

But she wasn’t convinced as she twisted her hair and pinned it with a clip, then applied a fresh sheen of lipstick and called it good. Sighing, she sat on the edge of the narrow bed and wondered how long she could stand to call this room her home. A sun-faded rug covered the wood floor and a small desk, shoved into a corner, doubled as a nightstand. The room smelled faintly musty, so she threw open a window, letting in a breeze that billowed ancient lace curtains.

From her vantage point on the second story, she watched the old dog sniff his way to an oak tree where he stopped to eye a squirrel scrambling in the overhead branches. On the other side of the fence, sedate mares grazed in one pasture, their coats shining in the sun while spindly legged foals frolicked and scampered, sending up puffs of dust. Not far off, in a field so large she couldn’t see the fence line, a herd of cattle lumbered along the banks of a creek that sliced through the lush grassland.

Gina wondered about the men and women who lived here, so far from a large city. She watched as Garrett and a strapping man in a cowboy hat and dusty jeans unloaded the sacks of feed from the back of the pickup. The conveyer had stopped moving and one of the hands had hopped back onto the tractor. With a growl and plume of black smoke, the old John Deere headed through an open gate.

Horses nickered, cattle lowed, and a wasp buzzed as it worked hard on a muddy nest hanging just under the eaves. Gina inhaled the fresh air laced with the scents of spring flowers and new-mown hay, then sighed.

“Heaven on earth,” she heard, and whipped around to find Trent standing in the doorway, one shoulder propped insolently against the jamb, his arms folded across his chest.

“Looks like it.”

“Even to a city girl?”

“Especially to a city girl.”

To her surprise, he strode into the room and swung the door shut behind him. “I think we’d better talk,” he said, grabbing the desk chair. He swung it around backward, straddled the seat and leaned his arms across the back. “You start.”

“By?”

“By telling me what’s going on. With the old man, with you—whoever you are. Let’s start with Dallas.”

“That was a mistake,” she said, meeting his gaze evenly. “I think we both know it.”

“It wasn’t a setup?”

“Excuse me? A setup? What…?” She stared into his angry blue eyes and suddenly understood. “You think I planned meeting you and…and what?”

“Seducing me.”

She nearly laughed. The man was out of his ever-lovin’ mind. “Don’t flatter yourself, Remmington. I’d had too much to drink, so had you. I had no idea you’d be in that hotel bar that night and—”

“And you knew who I was. An advantage, I’d say.”

“It wasn’t a game.”

“No?” He scowled and rubbed his chin. “Sure feels like one now. One that I somehow lost.” His gaze drilled deep into hers. “Believe it or not, I’m not used to losing.”

The man was damned irritating, but someone she had to deal with, like it or not. “I understand.”

“That’s right. You know all about me.” He stood and crossed the few feet separating them, looming over her to the point that she nearly backed into the open window, but somehow stood her ground. “And I know nothing about you, do I?”

“Except what I’ve told you.”

“Exactly. So let’s get one very important thing straight, shall we? I don’t like anyone snooping into my life. Period. And I don’t trust people who lie to me. So you already have two strikes against you in this little ‘non-game.’ The way I see it, three strikes and you’re out.”

She told herself not to lose it. To grab on to the rags of her temper and hold tight. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t
her nature. “Look, Trent—I can call you that, right, considering the circumstances. ‘Mr. Remmington’ seems a little formal. Yes, I was hired by Garrett to find you, not to pry into your personal life, but to locate you and determine that you were one of Larry Kincaid’s sons. That’s all. I lied to you that night in Dallas because I—I—”

“Didn’t want to blow your cover?”

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of a TV-cop way of describing it, but I’d told myself I wasn’t going to meet any of the Kincaid heirs, that I would keep this as professional as possible and then…okay, I blew it. I have to confess, when I stumbled into you that night and you started flirting with me, I couldn’t resist. I guess you’re just too damned irresistible. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe a word. Neither could she, but she couldn’t stop herself and she was far from finished.

“So, in answer to your question—” she closed the gap between them to mere inches and glared up at him as if she wasn’t shaking inside “—meeting you wasn’t part of some nefarious scheme or shakedown or whatever you want to call it. It was, as I said before, a mistake. Maybe it’s one that we should just get over, okay?”

A huge hand snaked forward to clamp possessively over her forearm. “Get over? I don’t know about you, lady, but that kind of thing doesn’t happen to me every day of the week.”

“Oh, save me.” She glanced down at the hand encir
cling her arm. “And remove that now. I’m not going for any of your Neanderthal tactics.”

His fingers released and she walked around him, picked up her laptop computer case and unzipped it. “Was there anything else you wanted to grill me about?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she placed the sleek little computer on the desk near her bed.

“I just wanted to clear the air.”

“Consider it cleared.” She found the outlet and plugged in her machine, then, ignoring the drumming of her heart, looked around for a phone jack.

As if he understood her dilemma, he said, “There aren’t any connections in the rooms. I already checked.” With a thumb hooked toward the wall, he added, “I’m in the next room.”

Her stomach tightened. He was close, too damned close. Just one door down the hall? In a house that had seven bedrooms. Just…great.

“I’ve already talked to Garrett and placed a call to the local phone company to have a few more lines installed, but it’ll take a while.” He walked to the door and swung it wide, then strode through and said over his shoulder, “As I said earlier, ‘This ain’t exactly L.A.’”

So it was true, Jordan thought as he shoved his plate to one side of the table. He’d eaten a long, late lunch, listening to the gossip buzzing around him like a swarm of mosquitoes on a stagnant swamp. Garrett Kincaid had, with the help of a private investigative firm from
somewhere in California, located Larry’s illegitimate brood. He’d also managed to get control of the ranch that Jordan considered his own private legacy. Of course, he’d been screwed out of it. All those promises his uncle Cameron had made weren’t diddly squat. Once again, the Kincaids had kicked the Baxters.

Hell.

Frowning darkly, Jordan stirred his coffee and his blood boiled, but he somehow managed to hold his tongue. He’d learned a long time ago it was better to get even than to get mad, but that took considerable self-control.

Jordan took a long sip from his cup, eyed the desserts that were slowly cooling in a rotating display case, and eased back in his booth. He was alone, which was fitting, he supposed. Since returning to Whitehorn a millionaire several times over, he’d collected a lot of “friends,” but he didn’t trust any of them. He knew they only liked him for his money and what he could do for them. Yep, he was becoming a powerful man here in Whitehorn and he’d been feeling pretty good about himself until Wayne Kincaid hadn’t accepted his offer to buy back the ranch he should have inherited.

“How about a piece of pie?” Janie asked, dragging him out of his vengeful thoughts. She was a cute thing and efficient as all get-out. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her perennial smile was tacked neatly in place. Head waitress and would-be manager, she ran the Hip Hop Café these days. “We’ve got fresh strawberry-rhubarb, and isn’t that your favorite?”

“Yep, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” she teased, and refilled his cup.

“Hey, what’s this I hear about Garrett Kincaid buying the ranch from Wayne and fillin’ it up with the grand-kids that Larry left all over the country?”

Little lines formed between Janie’s eyebrows and she hesitated. She wasn’t one prone to gossip, unlike most of her clientele. “That’s the word. I haven’t talked to Garrett myself about it, though, so, I guess it’s still just hearsay.” She slapped Jordan’s check onto the table as the front door opened and a group of teenagers walked in. “If you reconsider about the pie, flag me down.”

“Will do.” He reached for his wallet and eyed the crowd. There was Lily Mae, the town’s premier gossip, dressed to kill, as usual, in a tight lavender sweater and matching slacks. At another table Winona Cobbs’s graying head was ducked low as she engaged Christina Montgomery, the mayor’s younger daughter, in a quiet conversation.

From different tables of the packed café he heard the name Kincaid mentioned several times.

“Six of ’em, can you believe it?” Lily Mae was saying. “All with different mothers, aside from the twins, that is.” She was spouting off to a woman Jordan didn’t recognize. “And there’s talk of another one. I tell you, say what you will about Larry Kincaid, he was certainly a charmer.”

Jordan snorted and finished his coffee.

He’d heard enough. Larry Kincaid’s bastard sons
were about to descend upon the town. He left several bills, including a healthy tip, and tossed his napkin onto the table. That’s just what the town needed. More Kincaids, and bastards at that.

Well, really, he thought bitterly as he jaywalked, dodging a sports car that was speeding down Center Avenue, weren’t they all?

Why did he let the woman get to him? Trent wondered as he helped unload a sack of feed and stacked it in the stables. So she’d sneaked around, so she’d lied to him, so he hadn’t been able to resist her that one hot night in Dallas. So what? Forget her. He just had to put up with her for a few days here in Whitehorn and then he’d fly out and leave her forever.

Right?

He gritted his teeth and using his body, slammed the sacks of feed nearer the wall, straightening each stack. He tried to ignore the feeling that Gina was different, that she wasn’t just the love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of woman he associated with one-night stands. His jaw clamped tight. Years ago he hadn’t thought one way or the other about meeting a woman and bedding her. But as he’d aged, he’d become more selective, more careful, restraining himself. He’d learned that people, women included, always wanted something from him, something more than he was willing to give.

So he’d been cautious. Until that damned night in Dallas.

“Something wrong?” Garrett asked as he dragged
the last sack from the truck and flung it on top of the pile. For an old man he was strong, a hard worker, though Trent did detect a hint of a limp and glimpsed the sweat that ran down the back of his neck. Garrett yanked off his battered leather gloves and set them on top of a barrel of oats. “You look like something’s eating at you.”

“Got a lot to think about.”

“Don’t we all?” Together they strode through the fading sunlight to the main house. They kicked off their boots on the back porch and walked into the kitchen where a pretty woman with dark upswept hair was overseeing boiling pots on the stove and peering into the oven. “The chicken’s about done,” she said, looking up at Garrett with dark, shining eyes. “I’ll just whip these potatoes and you can gather in the dining room. Oh, hi.” She spied Trent, wiped a hand on her apron and extended it. “I’m Suzanne.”

“Rand’s wife,” Garrett said quickly. “My grandson, Trent Remmington. I called Suzanne in to pinch-hit with the cooking until I can find someone to take over. Suzanne, here, is an accountant in town.”

“That is when I’m not playing Julia Child,” she teased, then laughed at the pseudo-consternation twisting Garrett’s features.

“Actually, I don’t mind,” she said as she found a couple of pot holders and carried a kettle of boiled potatoes to the sink. She poured most of the water down the drain, saving a little in a smaller bowl. “Since my baby, Joe, was born, my career’s slowed down. I just do
the books for a few people now. There.” She set the pot of potatoes on the counter and, opening the oven door, retrieved a couple of golden-brown chickens. “I’ll make the gravy, then serve up in about fifteen minutes. After that I’d better hurry home. I left Joe with my brother.” She rolled her eyes and grinned.

“Mack’s a good kid, but there’s only so much ‘quality time’ he can stand with his nephew.” She laughed brightly at the thought. “He’s seventeen and all thumbs around the baby, but I figure it’s time he learned about kids before he gets wrapped up in some girl and has one of his own.”

“Best form of birth control there is,” Trent observed.

Suzanne’s smile slid away and Garrett’s expression turned sober. “We’d better wash up.”