Texas Heat. Barbara McCauley
heavy on the marble entry. Drawing in a slow, deep breath to steady herself, Savannah closed the door, then gestured to the living room sofa. “Why don’t we talk in here?” she said, moving past him.
Confused, Jake stared after the woman. He thought for a moment he had the wrong place, or maybe she was the one who was confused. But she’d looked right at him with eyes as green as a spring meadow and said his name. She couldn’t be Angela Roberts, he thought, narrowing his eyes.
Could she?
He watched as she walked away. From her tan high heels to the tips of her honey blond hair, she spelled money. And sex appeal. Definitely sex appeal. Her soft Southern accent flowed over him like warm silk and the faint scent of peaches drifted from her creamy white skin. Her legs were long and slender beneath her knee-length beige skirt, her breasts full and round under a long-sleeved white silk blouse.
Jake could understand how J.T. might have been tempted to take this woman to his bed. Lord knew, he certainly was.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and realized he hadn’t moved. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
Something was wrong, he thought, and followed her into the other room. Very wrong.
She sat on a rose-colored high-back chair and he heard the soft whisper of her stockings as she crossed her legs. He sat on the sofa across from her and sank into the cushions. Too soft, he thought almost irritably. And white. He almost laughed at the thought of this sofa in his living room. He’d take his firm leather couch over this silly piece of fluff any day.
Glancing around the room, Jake took in the feminine contents: lace curtains, crystal vase on the glass coffee table filled with fragrant pink flowers. Pastel watercolors of garden cottages. A floor-to-ceiling oak bookcase with hard-bound novels and floral-framed photographs. Based on the town-house exterior, everything on the inside was exactly as Jake would have imagined. He looked at the woman sitting across from him. Well, almost everything.
Savannah didn’t like the way Jake Stone was staring at her. Scowling was a more appropriate word. She’d heard that cowboys were the silent type, but this was ridiculous. Other than her name, he hadn’t said one word to her. And though she’d already acknowledged that the man had a rugged appeal, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps he’d been kicked by one too many horses.
“Mr. Stone,” she said curtly, “could we please dispense with the amenities and get right to the point of your visit? I have an appointment in a little while and I’m afraid I haven’t much time.”
Jake’s frown deepened. He’d nearly drained what was left of his savings to buy a plane ticket, left two hundred head of cattle and spent an entire day traveling just to get here, and she hadn’t much time? He’d promised Jessie he wouldn’t lose his temper no matter what, but this woman was sorely trying his patience.
“I believe Samuels Investigating has already explained in detail why I’m here, Miss Roberts,” he said dryly. “But just in case there’s some confusion on your part, I’ll explain again. I’m here to meet my sister.”
Savannah refused to even blink as she stared back at Jake. “And what exactly makes you think Emma is your sister?”
She was cool, aloof even, and except for the tightening of her fingers around the arm of her chair, Jake would have thought her bored. There was something going on under that enticing skin of hers, he realized, and though the idea of exploring that territory appealed to him on a physical level, logic refused to give him more than a passing fantasy.
“Nine years ago you had an affair with my father, J.T. Stone. You disappeared and, according to hospital records uncovered by the P.I., you had a baby seven months later.”
She lifted her chin. “That hardly proves your father is responsible.”
Jake raised one eyebrow. “Are you saying you were sleeping with two men at the same time?”
Savannah felt her neck, then her cheeks, grow hot. She’d known this was going to be difficult, but she hadn’t counted on Jake Stone being so blunt. Damn the man! “Nine years is a long time, Mr. Stone. Whatever happened then has no bearing on now.”
The white silk blouse she wore contrasted sharply with the blush on her face, and her reaction to his question surprised Jake. He wouldn’t have thought a question of standards would have bothered her. “What did happen?”
It wasn’t so much the question he asked as the way he asked it that made Savannah nervous. He was suspicious, she knew it. And she wished to God she could answer him, but the truth was, she didn’t know what had happened. Not once in nine years had Angela even hinted at Emma’s parentage or the circumstances behind it. With both J.T. and Angela gone, perhaps no one would ever know for sure. “It was just one of those...situations,” she said carefully. “There was no reason to burden your father with my...condition.”
He was quiet for a moment, as if assessing her and her answer. “Did you love him?” he finally asked.
“I love Emma,” she answered quickly, perhaps too quickly. “That’s all that matters now. She and I are very happy with the way things are.”
She followed his gaze as he looked around the room. “Things appear to be very good, Miss Roberts. Do you have a...roommate?”
Savannah bristled at the implication in his sarcastic tone. She realized an expensive town house like this one would be difficult for most single women to maintain. Lord knew, she never would have been able to afford it on her teacher’s salary, but for Angela it had been no problem. The lease was paid up for another four months; then Savannah knew she’d have to move to a smaller place.
“No, Mr. Stone, I don’t have a roommate. I don’t need or want one.”
He raised one brow, and when his gaze settled on the hairbrush she’d left lying on the armchair, his eyes narrowed. “And Emma,” he said, staring thoughtfully at the brush, “what about her?”
Savannah gritted her teeth at Jake’s question, but if answering a few questions would get rid of the man, then she was happy to oblige. “She attends a prestigious private girl’s school, has piano lessons every Tuesday and soccer on Saturdays. Other than an occasional argument over eating spinach or picking up her dirty clothes, the two of us get along beautifully.”
Jake rested his arms across the back of the couch. His gaze dropped to her left hand. “So you never married.”
“No.”
“And Emma doesn’t know who her father is.”
Savannah’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“Is that your answer or Emma’s?”
Savannah felt as if a band were cinching around her chest, squeezing the breath from her. “I asked you before what you want with us, Mr. Stone. I’ll ask you that again.”
“And I’ll answer you again. I’m here to meet Emma.”
“And if I agree, then what?”
“She’s my sister. The Stone family never walks away from one of their own.”
Panic filled Savannah at Jake’s comment. What was he saying? That he wanted to take Emma? She’d never let that happen. Never. She’d run so far the Stone family would never find her or Emma.
Shoulders stiff, Savannah stood and faced Jake. “Why you think you have the right to waltz in here and make demands is beyond me, but as far as I’m concerned, this conversation is through. I think you better leave, Mr. Stone.”
He didn’t budge. Instead, he slowly let his gaze scan her, starting at her legs, hesitating at her breasts, then finally resting on her face. The perusal was long and detailed, and as furious as it made her, Savannah also felt a hot swirl low in her stomach. Clenching her fists, she started to turn toward the front door.
“How old are you, Miss