her arms. “Do you think I’d ever let anyone take you away from me?”
The child shook her head.
“Of course I wouldn’t. You and I are a team. And I intend to keep it that way.” Savannah tightened her hug. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Okay.” Emma hugged her back.
Smiling reassurance she didn’t feel, Savannah set her niece away from her and looked into her face. “And stay in the bedroom until I tell you to come out.”
“Okay.”
The doorbell chimed and they both jumped.
Savannah’s stomach tightened. She looked anxiously at the door, then back to Emma. “Go on now, sweetie. I’ll let you know when it’s all right to come out.”
Once her niece had left, Savannah took a deep breath and glanced at the window beside the front door. She saw the outline of a tall man through the partially closed blinds. Maybe he’d go away if she didn’t answer. Just give up and go back to Texas. But she knew better. A man didn’t spend months tracking someone down and fly all this way just to turn around and leave. He wasn’t going to give up and he wasn’t going to leave. She had to go through with this. Be done with it now.
He knocked this time. Loudly.
Heart pounding, she moved to the door and opened it.
His black hat was the first thing she noticed about the man, and it struck her how appropriate that seemed. And tall. Good God, he towered over her own five-foot-seven frame, and his denim-clad chest and shoulders filled the doorway.
“Miss...Roberts?”
He did not smile as he stared down at her with intense blue eyes. If anything, he was frowning. She watched as he removed his Stetson, revealing hair dark enough to be considered black and a small jagged scar by his right temple.
No doubt this man would try to use his size and menacing looks to intimidate her, Savannah thought with annoyance. He was probably used to women—and men—taking a step back. Resisting the temptation to do just that, she lifted her eyes and met his gaze squarely.
“Mr. Stone.” She offered her hand to him and he took it, closing his long fingers over hers. A working man’s hand. Large and callused. She felt strength emanate from him. And determination. Two qualities that could make this meeting difficult.
She pulled her hand from his. “Come in, please.”
He dropped his bag on the front porch and stepped inside. His boots sounded 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
