Man on a Mission Read online

  He grabbed a basket from the pantry, then checked out the contents of the large, stainless steel refrigerator. Spying several pieces of fried chicken from the night before, he wrapped them in foil and put them into a basket. He added a container of potato salad, a small tub of baked beans and bread and butter.

  Then, thinking of the boy, he wrapped up half of the chocolate cake Lucinda had baked that day and added it to the basket.

  He left by the back door, catching his breath as he stepped from the cool of the house into the heat of the evening. It was mid-May, but already the temperatures were consistently hitting the century mark.

  As he walked toward the cottages, once again his thoughts went to the role he’d chosen to play. Initially he’d just wanted to buy himself some time, to gain enough distance from that night with Marietta in order to make sense of it all.

  As soon as he’d started the pretense, he’d noticed something interesting. People talked in front of him as if he wasn’t present. It was an odd phenomenon, one he had recognized years before when they’d had a Down’s syndrome man working for them. Mark had noticed how people spoke in front of the man about things they would never confide to anyone else, as if confident he would never repeat, or understand, what they were saying.

  And that was exactly what Mark was counting on now. Already he’d noticed the ranch hands spoke more freely in front of him than they ever had in the past. And in that freedom, Mark hoped to glean clues about Marietta’s murder and whatever it was she had believed threatened the very existence of the ranch.

  He shoved these thoughts aside as he reached cottage number three. He was surprised as an eager anticipation surged through him.

  Now that they had decided to keep the ranch running for at least three months, April and Brian would be able to stay. Somehow, he’d make sure of it. He didn’t stop to analyze why it was important to him that they remain at the ranch. It was enough that she reminded him of spring.

  He shifted the basket from one hand to the other, then knocked on the door.

  She answered almost immediately, and it was obvious she had recently stepped out of a shower. Her hair was curly and damp and she smelled of soap and shampoo. She was clad in a mint-colored, sleeveless shift that skimmed her slenderness and stopped just above her knees.

  “Mark.” Her eyes widened as she saw him.

  “I brought a surprise,” he said, and held up the basket.

  “A surprise?” A tiny wrinkle furrowed her brow as she gazed first at him, then at the basket. “Please come in.” She stepped aside to allow him entry, then closed the door behind her to stop the flow of heat into the air-conditioned room.

  A small suitcase was open on the sofa, revealing pastel-colored lacy things, and the sight of those feminine items caused a flutter of heat to sweep through Mark.

  He set the basket on the table, wondering what it was about this particular woman that affected him on a level that nobody else had for a very long time.

  He’d been invulnerable, untouchable both physically and mentally when it came to women since Rachel’s defection three years ago.

  “What’s all this?” she asked, peering into the basket.

  “Dinner.”

  Her eyes appeared to grow impossibly luminous. “Oh,” she said softly. “Mark, you shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Why not? It’s good food.” He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  She laughed, a musical sound that was at once arresting. “I’m sure it’s good food.”

  “Then eat,” Mark replied. He pulled his hands from his pocket and began to unload the items from the basket. “Where’s your boy?” he asked when he’d finished.

  She pointed toward the closed bedroom door. “He’s angry.”

  “Why?” Mark went to the cabinet and pulled out two plates and set them on the table.

  Again her brow crinkled with a frown, and he could tell she was trying to determine whether to tell him. “I had promised Brian we were going to stay here, that I was going to have a job here. Now he’s angry because there’s no job and we’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  “You’re going to stay,” Mark replied confidently. He walked over to the bedroom door and rapped on it, then smiled at April. “We had a family meeting. The ranch is going to stay open and you will have a job.”

  “But your father hired me, and now he’s gone. Perhaps your brother will want to interview—”

  “You have the job,” Mark interrupted her, then knocked once again on the door. “Brian, come out.”

  The door opened and Brian stepped out, a mulish expression on his face. “What?” he said with more than a touch of belligerence.

  “Come and eat,” Mark said.

  “I’m not hungry,” Brian said, but he moved closer to the table, and his eyes widened at the sight of the chocolate cake. “Well, maybe I could eat just a little,” he said and slid into one of the chairs at the table.

  “Go on,” Mark urged April into the other chair, then he shoved the suitcase over and sank onto the sofa.

  “This was so incredibly kind of you,” April said, her gaze so warm on him, he could feel the heat clear down to his toes.

  He nodded and fell silent, afraid of saying too much, not wanting to expose himself, yet wishing to hell he could reveal himself to her.

  He wanted to know where she and Brian were from, how Adam had come to hire her, what forces had driven her here. He wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked, if it would be warm and inviting beneath his touch.

  And he wanted to know why her beautiful, thick-lashed eyes emitted such fragility. He had a feeling keeping up his act with her was going to be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

  April ate self-consciously, unsure what to make of the man who sat on the sofa. His kindness in bringing them dinner had nearly undone her, and it was only with enormous effort that she hadn’t cried.

  She only picked at the food on her plate, finding Mark Delaney far more interesting than chicken and beans. He was a fascinating dichotomy, his face an arresting contrast of darkness and light.

  With his strong, bold features, short black hair and thick dark brows over dark gray-blue eyes, he emitted an aura of hard arrogance, of cool confidence that was instantly dispelled by the sweet gentleness of his smile.

  It was such a refreshing change from the men in her past, the two men who had betrayed her on every level possible. She shoved this thought aside, refusing to drown in past regrets. She also shoved aside her plate and left the table.

  She moved the suitcase to the floor and joined Mark on the sofa. “I want to thank you again, Mark, for your thoughtfulness,” she said.

  He shrugged and smiled. “I’d be glad to get the rest of your stuff from the car. You’re staying— I mean, if you want to stay.”

  “We can stay?” Brian jumped up from the table and looked at Mark hopefully. “Really and truly?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die,” Mark replied solemnly. “You like horses?”

  “Well, sure,” Brian replied. “But I don’t know much about them. But I could learn,” he hurriedly added. “Maybe you could hire me to help in the stables. You don’t have to pay me a lot, just some so I can help Mom.”

  His eagerness caused an ache in April’s heart. Her little boy, trying so hard to be a man. He should be spending his summer vacation playing with friends, listening to music and conquering video games. Instead he was worrying about getting a job and helping take care of living expenses. How had their world gotten so topsy-turvy?

  “Brian, let’s take things one step at a time,” April warned. As much as she’d love to take this handsome cowboy at his word, she had a feeling his word probably didn’t carry much weight and it was Matthew Delaney who would make the decision about whether they remained here.

  “Brian, if you’re finished eating, it’s time for a shower,” April said.

  He started to balk. April knew the idea of a showe
r to her son was as abhorrent as kissing a girl. But, having just asked Mark about a job, Brian apparently thought a temper tantrum might not be in his best interest. He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “Where’s his dad?” Mark asked.

  “Gone.” The word fell flatly from her.

  “Like mine.”

  She nodded, although it wasn’t quite the same. Derrick wasn’t dead. He was someplace alive and kicking, never staying in one place long enough for creditors to find him. “You mentioned a family meeting. Besides Matthew do you have other brothers and sisters?”

  Mark nodded. “Luke. He’s a mess. That’s what Matthew says.”

  April laughed, finding his candor refreshing. “Matthew, Mark and Luke,” she said.

  “And Johnna, my sister.”

  “Your father was a religious man, I take it.”

  “My aunt Clara says he was a religious man only on Sundays.” Mark grinned as she laughed once more. “You sound nice when you laugh.”

  “Thank you.” April was surprised to feel a warm blush creep over her features. She stood, vaguely uncomfortable with the feelings he evoked in her…feelings she’d believed long dead.

  “I’ll put the leftovers in the basket, and you can take them back with you,” she said, busying herself with clearing the table.

  “Just keep them.” He joined her near the table. “You didn’t have a piece of cake.”

  “No,” she agreed.

  “You don’t like chocolate?” He gazed at her with studied intensity and April found her breath catching in her chest. He looked at her with the eyes of a man who knew what he wanted…and might just want her.

  She broke the gaze, heat swirling inside her. “I love chocolate.”

  “Good, then let’s have a piece of cake.” His big capable hand swallowed hers as he grabbed it and pulled her into a chair at the table. He released her hand and gestured toward the cake in the center of the table.

  Suddenly a piece of cake sounded good.

  “Lucinda is the best baker in the entire world,” he said as she cut them each a piece.

  “Lucinda?”

  “She’s our cook. She’s sort of taken care of us since we were all little.” He took a bite of his cake. “Where did you live before you came here?”

  She mentally shifted gears in order to keep up with his ever-changing topics of conversation. “We’re from Tulsa, Oklahoma.”

  “Did you know my father?” he asked.

  “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. Although my father knew him.” April shoved the last of her cake aside; as always, thoughts of her father filled her with incredible ambiguity.

  She’d loved her father with all her heart, but the man she’d always believed would protect her and love her had ultimately betrayed her as badly as her husband had.

  “I’ve made you sad.” Mark’s gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked at him, surprised by his sharp sensitivity and the empathy that radiated from his eyes.

  “No,” she protested. “You haven’t made me sad.” She sighed. “Lately life has made me sad.”

  “How come?” His big, broad hand moved to cover hers, its warmth as intense as the midday Inferno sun. Again April felt as if she couldn’t get enough air, as if somehow his touch displaced the oxygen in the room.

  She wanted to tell him never mind, but his soft gaze held hers, and a slight pressure from his hand over hers encouraged the words to fall from her.

  As nice as his hand felt covering hers, she pulled hers away and stood. Someplace in the back of her mind, she knew it was crazy to tell this man, this stranger, her life story.

  Maybe the fact that she figured he probably wouldn’t understand all of it and couldn’t really judge her, made it seem overwhelmingly easy to consider baring her soul.

  But that didn’t explain why his simple touch affected her so. “Let’s just say I have a terrible habit of trusting the wrong people,” she finally said, deciding baring one’s soul was far overrated.

  At that moment, before Mark could make any reply, Brian came out of the bathroom clad in his usual sleeping attire, an oversize T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. “Hey, you guys had cake without me,” he protested.

  “You can have yours now,” April replied.

  Brian sat down in the chair where April had been and gazed at Mark eagerly. “Do you know how to ride buckin’ broncos and throw a lasso?”

  Mark grinned, a slow, lazy expression that stirred fire in April’s veins. Despite his apparent slightly diminished mental capacity, she found him disturbingly attractive. There was something very sexy in his smile and a knowing glint that sparked in the depths of his eyes. “Sure,” he replied.

  “Could you teach me how to ride broncos and throw a lasso?” Brian asked.

  “Maybe,” Mark said, then frowned. “Although we ought to start off with the rope instead of riding a bronco.”

  April smiled at him. “I think that’s definitely wise.”

  “It’s wise? Good.” Mark grinned, as if extremely satisfied with himself.

  April’s heart constricted with compassion. She wondered if Mark had been born slow, or if he’d had an accident as a child.

  Her compassion had nothing to do with pity. It was difficult to pity a man who, despite any mental imperfections, exuded such quiet strength, who seemed to fit so well in his own skin and who radiated peace and happiness despite any depth of intelligence he might be lacking. It was impossible to pity a man who looked sexy enough to make her knees weaken.

  “Tell me about the horses,” Brian asked, leaning forward eagerly.

  As Mark talked about the horses and his responsibilities with them, April leaned against the refrigerator, entranced by the transformation that seemed to occur in him.

  He began haltingly, his words and descriptions coming as if through sheer, intense concentration alone. But it was obvious the topic of conversation was one he felt comfortable with, confident about, and that confidence shone from his eyes, filling them with a compelling animation and life that had been heretofore missing.

  A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. April opened it to see Matthew Delaney.

  “Good evening,” he greeted her, his gaze instantly going beyond her to Brian and Mark at the table. “Mark, I wondered where you’d gone to.”

  “I’m right here,” Mark replied.

  “Yes, I can see that now.” Matthew focused his attention back on April. “It appears that we’ll be keeping the ranch open for the time being, so if you’re still interested in the position of social director, it’s yours.”

  April’s heart soared. “Yes…oh, yes, I want the job.”

  Matthew nodded, his stern features not relaxing at all. “If you’ll come to the house tomorrow around noon, we’ll go over the terms of your employment and I’ll give you all the files from the previous social director.”

  “Thank you so much. I promise you won’t be sorry,” she exclaimed.

  Again he nodded as his gaze sought his brother. “Mark, it’s getting late. You need to come back to the house now.”

  Mark stood and clapped Brian on the back. “If you want to start work, be at the stables at seven in the morning.”

  “Cool!” Brian exclaimed. “I’ll be there.”

  Mark stepped out onto the porch with his brother, then smiled at April, that warm smile that forged a path straight to her heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow, April.”

  She nodded. “Good night, Mark.”

  She remained on the porch and watched the two brothers walking away. They were like bookends, equal in height and breadth of shoulder, but she found nothing particularly pleasing or attractive about Matthew Delaney.

  With a sigh she turned and went back into the small cottage. Minutes later she tucked Brian into bed. It had been a long day, most of it spent in the confines of the car, and although it was relatively early, his eyelids drooped with sleepiness.

  “Don’t forget to wake me up ear
ly,” Brian said. “I’ve got to be in the stables by seven.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you up in time,” she assured him. She stroked a strand of his dark hair off his forehead, as always marveling how much the child looked like his father. It was as if Brian had been cloned from Derrick’s rib and had nothing of her physical characteristics.

  There were times in the dark of night when April’s biggest fear was that her son would grow up to be just like Derrick—a weak man without character, without good values. The only two men who had been a part of Brian’s life, who had any profound influence, had been sad, weak imitations of men.

  “Mom? Something’s wrong with Mark, isn’t it?” Brian eyed her sleepily.

  “Yes, honey. I think maybe something is wrong. I think maybe he’s just a little slow.”

  “But he’s not stupid,” Brian replied.

  “No, I don’t think he’s stupid.”

  “It’s okay if I like him, isn’t it?”

  April smiled at her son. “Yes, it’s okay that you like him.”

  “Good.” Brian closed his eyes and within moments was fast asleep.

  April remained seated on the edge of the bed, watching her son sleep. For the past two months, since her own father’s death, Brian had been unruly, difficult and possessing a simmering anger that had April at her wit’s end. But from the moment he’d learned they were staying here, and while he’d been interacting with Mark, he’d transformed back to the child of her heart, with smiles and good humor.

  April left the bedroom and closed the door behind her, her thoughts filled with Mark Delaney. Certainly April wasn’t looking for an intimate relationship with any man, but friendship would be nice, especially for Brian’s sake.

  As she went into her own bedroom, she realized this was the first time in as long as she could remember that thoughts of tomorrow didn’t bring despair, but rather brought hope.

  Chapter 3

  It was just before ten when April walked toward the stables in search of Brian. She needed to go into the small town of Inferno and pick up some groceries, since it appeared they were going to stay.