ached.
“What did you think? If I took a nap like a good girl I’d get over the crazy notion of trying to find my real father?”
“No. I thought you might be tired.” Finn poured a mug of coffee and pressed it into Deirdre’s hands. “You aren’t a morning person on the best of days.”
And she never would be, Deirdre thought. All those years of singing in clubs had thrown her body clock completely out of whack. One more way Deirdre had been out of sync with the early-bird McDaniels. But maybe Jimmy Rivermont would understand. Musician to musician.
Not that she was a musician anymore, she told herself firmly. She’d hadn’t sung anything besides “Happy Birthday” in six years.
“Finn, listen, I appreciate you coming over and playing back-up. But I’m here now, and I’m in a real barn burner of a mood, so if you have to hover over somebody, hover over Cade and the—”
A sharp knock on the door cut Deirdre off midsentence. Please, God, she thought, exhausted, don’t make this one of those “speaking of the devil” deals. Facing Finn was one thing. Cade and the Captain? That was one confrontation she just wasn’t ready for.
“The Captain and Cade have the old Porsche in pieces all over the garage. With Amy and Will ‘helping,’ they may never get it back together again,” Finn supplied, able to read her thoughts as usual.
Deirdre should have guessed what her brother would be up to. It was vintage Cade McDaniel, trying to fix the nearest engine the way he could never mend his family.
Deirdre started toward the door, but Finn cut her off. “I’ll answer it. You’ll scare the guests away glaring like that.”
Finn opened the door, but her “Welcome to March Winds” speech died on her lips. Deirdre’s heart jumped, wondering what was wrong. “M-Mr. Stone?” Finn’s voice quavered. “Did something happen to Mrs. Aronson?”
Deirdre quelled the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Trust Finn to inquire after the woman she and Cade had written all those checks to over the years.
“No, ma’am,” Stone said, so respectfully Finn might have been the Queen Mum. “Mrs. Aronson is just fine. I’ve come to see Deirdre.”
“Deirdre?”
“She visited my office last night regarding a private matter.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.” Finn shot a searching look Deirdre’s way. Finn was white as March Winds’ ghost. And what was this “I see” garbage? Why didn’t she just say, “How could you hire this man who reminds me that my father was a thief?”
Stone stepped inside. He wore black jeans, another black T-shirt and a black Stetson. Who’d he think he was? Johnny Cash? Stone removed the Stetson, cradling it in one strong hand. His gaze dipped to Finn’s impressive stomach. “You look wonderful, Mrs. McDaniel. Happy. I’m glad.”
Yeah, Deirdre thought. Her sister-in-law was so happy at the moment Deirdre would be lucky if Finn didn’t deck her later.
“Stone,” Deirdre said, trying not to hope he’d changed his mind about helping her. But then, why else would he be here? To try to talk her out of pursuing the whole thing? Deirdre grimaced—she’d just tell him to get in line.
He turned toward her, and Deirdre found herself staring smack in the middle of all that imposing male chest. “I’ve been considering your case. Talked it over with someone and decided I might have time to take it after all.”
Deirdre tracked her gaze up his corded neck, past his square, chiseled jaw and hawklike nose so she could glare right into his eyes. “Let me guess. Ms. Great Legs Trula Devine needed more cash than you had on hand?”
Finn looked as if she’d swallowed a teacup.
“Actually, another lady friend of mine convinced me to come. She’s a real looker, too, with sensational red hair. And she’s definitely less expensive than Trula. All this lady wants is a meal.”
Great. He had two cheap bimbos on the string. Jake Stone could be the poster boy for why Deirdre had sworn off men.
Stone fingered the brim of his hat. “I was hoping I could get some information from you. Interview anyone who might give me a place to start.”
“My brother. He’s the only one our mother ever spoke to about—well, about my father. He’s at the cabin.”
Finn started to object, stopped. Deirdre figured she knew better. “I could go to the cabin and send him over here.” Finn offered. “That way no one else needs to know.” She looked more McDaniel-like than ever before—dead stubborn—and Deirdre knew who she was trying to protect. The crotchety old man whose heart Emma feared might break.
Finn dodged out the kitchen door as quickly as her advanced pregnancy would allow. Deirdre could almost see her, hurrying through the garden, disappearing beyond the white picket gate as she headed home.
Deirdre should have been glad she was gone, taking her reproachful eyes with her. But the kitchen seemed to shrink with Stone’s big body in it, the intensity of the P.I. sucking all the oxygen from the room. It was too easy to remember how he’d felt those few moments when he’d held her after the fight. Powerful, dangerous. Fierce and forbidden. Hot and hard and blatantly male. He’d towered over her, making her want…
Want what? Total disaster? Jake Stone was a prime example of Mother Nature’s cunning, ready to trick an intelligent woman into spinning completely out of control. Surrendering independence to taste physical pleasure. No question Stone was temptation incarnate. Let Trula Devine and his gorgeous redhead play with Stone’s brand of fire. Deirdre wasn’t about to get burned by any man.
Again.
The word echoed through Deirdre’s mind. She started, suddenly aware of Stone’s cool, assessing gaze on her face. She could almost hear the gears in his head spinning, trying to figure her out. Her cheeks burned, an instinctive need to flee racing through her veins. She needed a few moments alone to compose herself, put herself back together. So she could face her brother, she told herself firmly.
Deirdre made her excuses, and went to fetch the letter from her room. If anything had the power to drain some of Stone’s undeniable magnetism it was the prospect of seeing her brother.
She fought down a surge of guilt. Old habits die hard, she told herself. For once, a mess wasn’t her fault. Cade was the one who’d had choices all these years. She had every right to be furious with him. All she was trying to do was find out the truth.
By the time she got back to the kitchen, Cade was standing two steps inside the door, arms crossed over his chest as he told Stone exactly what a rotten idea he thought this search was.
Deirdre cut him off. “Either tell him what you know, Cade, or don’t. It’s up to you. I intend to get to the bottom of this with or without your help.”
“I’m sure you’ll run it down to the bitter end no matter who gets caught in the cross fire,” Cade said.
“The Captain knows I’m not his daughter. So does Emma, thanks to your sending her over to the house to babysit me when I opened the hope chest yesterday. And Mom’s dead. There’s no one left to protect.”
