The Rivals (24 page)

“I tried explaining to him why I needed so badly to find those missing girls.” She glanced at him and said, “My sister disappeared when I was fourteen. She was never found.”

“I'm sorry,” Drew said. “I had no idea.”

“Tom said the past didn't matter, that I should put my family first.”

“It sounds like you both had a point.”

Her lips twisted ruefully. “You're not taking sides?”

“I can see both sides,” Drew said. “Is one necessarily right and one wrong?”

“The problem was that Tom and I could never find a middle ground.” Sarah looked at Drew, then back at the road and said, “After Tom disappeared, I think I spent even more time at work, to the detriment of my kids.”

“They're doing fine,” Drew said.

She grimaced and said, “Would Nate have been out stealing antlers from the town square if he had a mother at home keeping an eye on him? Would Brooke be starving herself every chance she gets and dressing like a Brooklyn hooker if I was there every morning and evening? Would Ryan—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Drew said. “You're being way too hard on yourself. If you're looking for ugly stepmothers, I can tell you stories about my grandfather's second wife that'll singe your eyebrows. I know what a cruel, uncaring woman does when she wants to hurt the ones she's supposed to love.

“You're nothing like that, Sarah. You love your kids. You care about them. They're happy and well-adjusted and—”

Sarah abruptly braked and the Tahoe skidded into a snowbank at the side of the narrow dirt road.

Drew saw her eyes had welled with tears and realized she could no longer see to drive. She stared straight ahead, her jaw clenched, her chin quivering.

Drew pulled her fingers free of the wheel, pulled her close and settled his arms around her. “Sarah, Sarah,” he crooned. “Everything's going to be all right.”

She shoved her cold nose hard against his neck and said in a low, grating voice, “I don't know if I can raise three kids all by myself. I'm a terrible mother. I—”

“Stop right there,” he said, grasping her face with both hands and forcing her to look into his eyes. “I've seen abused kids. I was one,” he admitted, feeling his heartbeat rachet up at the admission he'd never made to anyone.

She stared at him wide-eyed. “But you're rich!”

“Rich folks can brutalize their kids with the best of them,” he said. “In my case it was a stepgrandmother who did all the damage. I'm only telling you this because I've spent enough time with your kids to know there's nothing abusive, emotionally or physically, about your relationship with them. Nate and Brooke and Ryan all love you. They all look to you for help when they need it. They trust you to be there for them.”

“Thank you, Drew,” she said, leaning forward to press her forehead against his.

They were nose to nose, their mouths a breath apart. It would have taken very little to close the distance. But he drew back. “You're getting tears on my suit,” he said with a gentle smile. He wasn't going to let himself kiss her. It was too damned dangerous. She was too damned attractive. And he wanted her too damned much.

He had no intention of hanging around Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the rest of his life. He had places to go. Things to do—that is, once he figured out what they were.

He let go of her and she eased back into the driver's seat, brushing at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“I hate crying,” she said, swiping at her nose with her sleeve.

“You're beautiful when you cry.”

She half-laughed, half-sobbed and said, “Now you're lying.”

He'd never meant anything more in his life. But it was better that she didn't know that. “You okay to drive now?” he asked.

She sniffed once and said, “Yeah,” then started up the Tahoe.

They didn't say another word the rest of the way to the main house at Forgotten Valley.

“Come on in,” he said as he headed for the kitchen door. “I won't be long. You can make us some coffee to take along. Coffee's in the cupboard over the sink and the coffeemaker's by the stove. I've got a thermos in the cupboard over the stove.”

He hurried down the hall, afraid that if he stayed another minute in the kitchen he'd take her in his arms and never let her go.

“If you don't mind, I need to stop by and see my brother North before we go back to my place,” Libby said.

“I'm sorry I've put you to so much trouble,” Jocelyn said.

Libby snorted inelegantly. “You haven't been any trouble at all. It's that father of mine—and Clay's father—who need an attitude readjustment.”

Jocelyn smiled. “I must say that was an impressively terrifying battle of wills.”

“You get used to it,” Libby said. “As far back as I can remember, my father's always gotten his own way. If he wants something, he goes after it. Nine-and-a-half times out of ten, he gets it. Trouble is, he's raised seven children, including me, who expect the same results when we want something. And cry bloody murder when we don't get it.”

Jocelyn laughed and eyed her askance.

Libby figured the demure young woman was probably trying to decide whether she'd been using hyperbole. She might have exaggerated a little, but not much. Libby had grown up in a cutthroat, dog-eat-dog family where it was a way of life to fight for what you wanted and never to settle for less.

Which was why Libby had defied her father and left home with her illegitimate daughter when she was eighteen. And why she hadn't been satisfied with any other man, once she'd given her heart to Clay Blackthorne.

Now it looked like she was going to lose Clay to yet another woman.

Libby had watched Jocelyn Montrose when the graceful young woman greeted Clay in the courtroom and noticed Jocelyn's whole demeanor had become soft and adoring. It was plain as the exquisite nose on the young woman's face and the doting look in her amazing violet eyes, that Jocelyn was in love with her late sister's husband.

Libby had wanted to yank the other woman's hair out.

Which told her more than she wanted to know about her own highly irrational, emotionally immature—all right, ferociously jealous—feelings for the father of her child.

The problem was, and always had been, that Blackthornes were as used to getting their own way as Grayhawks. Once Clay had realized the depth of her betrayal all those years ago, he'd walked away from her and never looked back.

Libby had tried hard to believe that there was more than one man in the world with whom she could be happy. She'd finally admitted, after breaking her engagement rather than marrying a second time, that she'd never committed her whole heart to either man she'd tried to love, because she hadn't possessed a whole heart to give.

Was she now supposed to step back and give Jocelyn Montrose the freedom to pursue the man Libby loved, had always loved, and would continue to love until the day she died?

No. Hell, no. Absolutely, positively not. No self-respecting Grayhawk would concede the battle without a fight.

But Libby had far too much on her plate as it was. Her first priority was finding her daughter. She was also determined to find out who'd framed Clay, and why. She didn't have time right now to worry about the threat Jocelyn Montrose posed to her future happiness.

But she couldn't ignore the other woman, either.

Libby had to believe that Kate would be found safe and sound, and that Clay would be cleared of the spurious charges against him. When that day finally came, she didn't want Jocelyn Montrose waiting in the wings to entice Clay away. And she knew just the man to distract her rival.

Her brother North.

Since desperate situations required desperate measures, Libby had decided to kill two birds with one stone. She would simply take Jocelyn along when she went to see North to ask him what he knew about Niles Taylor. And introduce him to the violet-eyed woman.

Libby had no illusions that North would settle down happily ever after with a woman like Jocelyn. She was far too delicate a hothouse flower to share the rugged life North lived on his Wyoming ranch. She would quickly wilt and die.

But Jocelyn was exactly the sort of woman North took to his bed. Beautiful, big-bosomed and long-legged.

North's previous partners had also been overtly sexy. At first glance, Jocelyn didn't seem to fit that description. Especially not with the way she kept her clothes buttoned up to the throat and her hair bound up in a French twist. But her loveliness would surely catch North's eye.

Libby would simply have to put the two of them together and keep her fingers crossed. With any luck, North would distract Jocelyn long enough that, when things settled down, Libby would have the chance, at long last, to make amends with Clay.

Libby knew North would be at home this morning. In fact, Sundays were virtually the only time he did stay at home. As she drove up, he was outside picking up a load of firewood from the side of the house. He hesitated as she pulled up, then headed toward her.

She got out as he approached and said, “The judge didn't grant Clay bail.”

“Never figured he would.” North bent and glanced through her open car door to the other side of the front seat and said, “Who's that with you?”

Jocelyn leaned toward the driver's side, smiled at North and said in her melodious, French-accented voice, “Good morning. I'm Jocelyn Montrose.”

Libby was watching North closely but saw not the slightest flicker of interest in his eyes. She pressed her lips flat. Maybe he needed to see how tall Jocelyn was. Or get a better look at her arresting violet eyes.

“Can we come in for a minute?” she said to her brother.

This time she saw a flicker of annoyance cross his face. Sundays were his day to sit back, put his feet up and relax by himself. But she wasn't about to let him send her away. “I really need to talk to you.”

He'd never turned her away. And he didn't now. “Come on in.” He didn't wait for them, just turned his back and headed for the door with the load of firewood in his arms.

“Maybe I should wait here,” Jocelyn said, eyeing North's broad, dismissive back.

Libby smiled. She was determined to get the two of them together in the same room. “Please come inside. I'd worry about you sitting out here in the cold. I shouldn't be long.”

North was setting another log on the crackling fire in the living room by the time Libby and Jocelyn joined him. Libby had always loved North's house. It was totally masculine and smelled of leather and the mesquite he put on the fire.

The inside walls were composed of chinked logs. Above the stone mantel hung a massive oil painting of longhorns being herded across a deep ravine by cowboys on horseback wearing yellow slickers. The furniture was brown leather, and colorful Navajo rugs lay on the hickory wood floor. The immense wall of windows on the opposite side of the room revealed a stunning view of the snowcapped Grand Tetons in the distance.

When at last North turned to face Jocelyn, Libby kept her fingers crossed that she'd see some sparks. She gritted her teeth when North evidenced absolutely no reaction to the beautiful woman.

Instead he turned to Libby and said, “Do you want to talk in here, or do we need to go to my office?”

“Here is fine,” Libby replied. “Jocelyn is Clay's late wife's younger sister. She knows about Kate.”

North grunted, and Libby felt like kicking him. A woman as sophisticated as Jocelyn Montrose wasn't going to be attracted to a grunting man.

“I wanted to ask you what you know about Niles Taylor,” she said bluntly.

“He's a Texas oilman.”

“I knew that much,” Libby said with asperity. “Why were you at his party on Saturday?”

“He invited me.”

Libby made a frustrated sound in her throat. “Do you know any reason why Niles would want to cause trouble for Clay?”

“You worry too much about that man,” North replied.

“Answer the question.”

“I think Niles wants to talk Clay out of investigating an oil consortium he set up.”

“Would he resort to blackmail and murder to stop him?” Libby asked.

North's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

“Would he have an innocent girl drug Clay's drink and then murder her and put them in bed together?” Libby persisted.

“I don't know,” North said.

“Can't you make a guess?”

“I'll ask him the next time I see him,” North said sardonically.

Libby stared at her older brother, knowing that he couldn't be pushed. She exhaled. She hadn't gotten much information from him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't find out the answers to the questions she'd asked.

She glanced from North to Jocelyn and realized the other woman's cheeks were flushed. Maybe there was some attraction, and all she needed to do was leave them alone for it to spark to life.