The Westmoreland Legacy. Brenda Jackson
for now. “This was Coop’s first covert operation after being rescued and he’s good as ever.”
The only reason Gavin shared that much info with his grandmother was because when he’d come home last year before the holidays everyone had believed Coop had been killed on assignment. The entire team had taken Coop’s death hard. Then right before Christmas, they’d found Coop was alive and being held hostage in the Syrian mountains. Gavin and his team had been sent in to get Coop, as well as other hostages, out alive.
“This was Bane’s first time back, too, right?” his grandmother asked.
Did his grandmother not forget anything? Bane, being master sniper, had been recruited to work in DC for six months teaching SEAL recruits. “Yes, we were glad to have him back as well. And before I forget, I plan to head for Mississippi next week. I’ve got important business to take care of there.” His grandmother didn’t need to know that the important business was getting laid.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, he went straight to the sink to wash his hands and then quickly headed for the coffeepot. After pouring a cup, he turned and watched Gramma Mel arrange a half-dozen cookies on a plate for him. He smiled. Anyone else would eat just one or two, but his grandmother knew him well. He needed at least a half dozen to get things started. “You need a fresh cup of coffee?” he asked her.
“Thanks. That would be nice, Gavin.”
After pouring another cup, he moved away from the counter to sit down and she sat across from him. He placed her coffee in front of her and grabbed for a cookie. She slapped away his hand. “Say grace first.”
He chuckled, recalling the protocol she expected of him. After quickly bowing his head in silence, he grabbed a cookie and almost swallowed it whole. He loved his grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies.
She shook her head as she took a sip of her coffee. Now was as good a time as any to bring up what had brought him rushing back to the Silver Spurs. “What’s this I hear about you giving some professor permission to dig on our land?”
Gramma Mel raised a brow over her cup of coffee. “And you know this how?”
He held his grandmother’s gaze. “Sherman Lott called. He thought I had a right to know.”
She frowned. “As far as I’m concerned, Sherman needs to mind his own business.”
Gavin stared at this grandmother as he bit into another cookie. “The way I figure it, Caldwell is the one who should have called me. He’s paid to keep me informed about what’s going on around here. But he wouldn’t call because he’d think doing so would be disloyal to you. And we both know what you mean to him.”
His grandmother didn’t say anything. She just stared into her cup of coffee. There really wasn’t anything to say. Gavin had known for years that his grandmother and Caldwell had a thing going on. He wasn’t stupid. Nor was he insensitive. He wanted the two people who meant the most to him to be happy. He figured that one day they would stop trying to be so damn discreet. In the meantime, what they did was their business. He’d only brought it up now to make a point.
“Caldwell would have told you had he thought it was important,” his grandmother finally said.
“Whatever.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So what about it? Did you give permission for a dig to take place on our property?”
She leaned back in her chair. “Yes, I gave my permission and I see nothing wrong with it.”
Gavin kept his cool. “Well, I do. Honestly, Gramma Mel. You actually bought into this professor’s tale about Jesse James’s buried treasure?”
“Yes, I read her research and found it thorough and convincing. I have a copy, if you want to read it for yourself.”
“I don’t need to read anything to know the research is false. There’s no buried treasure on our land, and I’m against the idea of anyone digging around for nothing.”
His grandmother leaned forward in her chair. “And I happen to disagree. But what you believe is a moot point since I’ve given Layla permission and from what she told me this morning, her equipment will arrive in a few days—”
“Hold up,” he said, giving the time-out sign with his hands. “Why did you give Layla Harris permission? It’s her mother who’s running things, right?”
His grandmother look confused. “Her mother? I never met the woman. Layla is in charge or should I say Dr. Layla Harris is in charge.”
Surprise made Gavin raise his eyebrows. “Layla is the professor?”
“Yes, and a very competent one.”
Gavin shook his head, not believing such a thing was possible. “She’s young.”
“She’s twenty-six. However, I admit she does look younger.”
Twenty-six? That was still young and yes, she definitely looked younger. He drew in a deep breath, trying to force back the memories of just how she’d looked...in her jeans and sweater. And then the thought that she’d deliberately oozed her way onto his grandmother’s good side made him mad.
“You might have given your permission, but I have not given mine. Something that major means we need to be in full agreement.”
“No, it doesn’t. If you recall, we agreed that any time you were away on military business, I could make decisions in the best interest of the Silver Spurs.”
“I don’t consider digging up our land to be in the best interest of anything.”
“I disagree. I’m excited about what Layla might find. And I also gave her permission to stay in the guesthouse.”
The line of Gavin’s jaw tightened. He’d figured as much. Melody Blake was stubborn, but then so was he. He ate the last of his cookies, drained his coffee and stood. “I’m tired and need a full day of sleep. But we will talk about this again, Gramma Mel. In the meantime, I suggest you tell Dr. Layla Harris to hold up on bringing any type of equipment to the Silver Spurs.”
And without saying anything else Gavin walked out of the kitchen.
Layla pulled her car off on the shoulder of the road, unable to drive any farther. Once she killed her vehicle’s ignition, she forced herself to breathe deeply a few times. Never in all her twenty-six years had any man wreaked havoc on her senses like Gavin Blake. Never had any man left her in such a mind-blowing sensuous state. Who would have thought a man could have her nerves dancing, her mind racing, her stomach swirling and her nipples actually feeling like they’d been stroked? She had been tempted to glide her hands over every inch of his sexy, sculpted body.
She had known he was the epitome of male perfection from all those photographs she’d seen. To be honest, that’s where her troubles had started...with those photographs. In one, his lips had curved a little at the corners as he stared at her as if to say he knew exactly what she was thinking. She knew it was her wild imagination, but every time she glanced at that particular photo it was as if he was checking her out with those intense dark eyes of his. As if he knew her fantasies included him. Even in his photo, his muscular power had nearly overtaken her senses.
Pretty much like he’d done today. She hadn’t counted on the real thing being even more explosive than his pictures. Before he’d realized she was in his grandmother’s doorway, she had stood there spellbound as a rush of emotion made her body ache with desire. Then, when he’d noticed her, those eyes had made her yearn for something she didn’t need. Something she had never needed. A man.
Gavin Blake had stood on his grandmother’s porch wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt with his military tag hanging around his neck. Even wearing her sweater, she found the air cool, but the temperature hadn’t seemed to faze him. Was he as hot-blooded as he looked?
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