he wondered if his grandmother had planned to place him in such close proximity with the one woman who could make him want to strangle her one instant and make love to her the next. But that was impossible. No one, but no one, had known about his affair with Sam—well, only Sam and himself—and that was the way it would always stay.
He stared at the warm patch of lamplight, a welcoming beacon, it seemed, and gritted his teeth as he realized he’d like nothing better than to walk across those moonlit fields, pound on her door and take her into his arms. He’d kiss her as he used to, with the same passion that had steamed through his blood and brought his manhood springing to attention years ago.
But crossing the fence line to the Rawlings place was the last thing on earth he planned to do.
Turning on his heel, he nearly slammed his head on a low-hanging crossbeam before he stalked out of the room. He felt cornered and manipulated and frustrated as he thought about Sam. As if his grandmother was listening from her spot on the other side of the pearly gates, he grumbled, “Okay, Kate. You’ve won. So I’m here. Just tell me one thing. What the hell am I supposed to do about Sam?”
Three
“Great, just great.” Sam kicked off her boots on the back porch, where a moth was beating itself senseless against the exterior light. She stole a glance past the barbed-wire fence to the few visible acres of the Fortune spread and wondered again what Kyle was up to.
All afternoon and evening she’d been fighting a blinding headache that had developed when she’d first set eyes on Kyle Fortune after ten long years. Throughout her chores she’d thought about him, wishing she’d never have to deal with him again, while knowing deep in her foolish heart that she had no choice.
Why had Kate—a woman Sam had admired for her courage and clear vision—seen fit to leave the place to him, when she had more than a dozen descendants to choose from? Kyle was the least fit to run the ranch, the most unlikely candidate for adopting Wyoming as his home. Why not Grant, who had never left Clear Springs? Or how about Rachel, who many people in town thought was so like her grandmother? Rocky, Kyle’s cousin, was adventurous, a pilot, for crying out loud, and she’d always loved Clear Springs. But no, Kate had chosen Kyle and then strapped him to the place for six long months—right next door to Sam.
Padding to the kitchen sink, she muttered under her breath, cranked on the faucets, then splashed cold water on her face, letting it drip onto her blouse. “Criminy,” she said under her breath before taking a long swallow from the faucet. If she had any brains or courage, she’d call Kyle, tell him she needed to talk to him, and then, once she was face-to-gorgeous-face with him again, admit that they had a daughter, a beautiful tomboy of a girl.
“Oh, right. And then what?” she wondered aloud as she wiped her sleeve over her mouth. Kyle would either turn tail and run—if history served to repeat itself—or he’d demand proof of paternity and then, once the results of the blood tests were announced, probably expect no less than partial custody. “Damn it all to—” She stopped short when she caught a glimpse of Caitlyn’s reflection in the window over the sink. “What’re you doing up?”
“What’re you doing cursing?”
Sam sighed and straightened the sleeves she’d pushed up over her elbows. With the special smile she reserved for her daughter, she lifted a shoulder. “Okay, you caught me,” she admitted. “I’m upset, I guess.”
“Because of your friend?” Caitlyn was eyeing her oddly. Her nine-year-old face was puckered in concentration, her Fortune blue eyes silently accusing.
“Yeah, because of him.”
“You tell me not to let other people bother me.”
“Good advice. I guess I’ll take it. Now, why don’t you explain why you’re up so late? I thought you went to bed an hour ago.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Caitlyn said with a shrug, but the lines of concern didn’t smooth from her forehead.
“Why not?”
“It’s hot.”
“And…?” Sam prodded, walking up to her daughter and, with gentle hands, turning her toward the stairs leading to her bedroom.
“And…” Caitlyn worried her lip.
“What is it?”
“It’s Jenny Peterkin,” Caitlyn finally admitted with a scowl.
“What about Jenny?” Samantha didn’t like the topic of the conversation. Jenny was a spoiled ten-year-old who had been the bane of Caitlyn’s existence since second grade.
“I think she called me.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. While you were in the barn, the phone rang and someone asked for me and said they were Tommy Wilkins, but it didn’t sound like him and I heard laughing.” She swallowed and looked at the floor.
“What did Tommy or Jenny or whoever it was say to you?”
“That I’m—I’m a bastard.”
Oh, Lord, give me strength. “You know better than that, Caitie girl. As for the people on the other end of the phone line, they’re just a pack of cruel ninnies,” Sam said, aching inside for her daughter. “They don’t know a thing about you.” She bent down and wrapped her arms around Caitlyn’s shoulders. This wasn’t the first time her daughter’s lack of a father had been brought to her attention and it probably wasn’t going to be the last, but each time it hurt a little more.
“Is it true?”
“What?”
“I looked up the word in the dictionary and—and I am one. I don’t got no daddy.”
“It’s true I wasn’t married to your father, but you’ve got one, honey. Everyone has a daddy.”
“Where’s mine? Who is he?” Caitlyn’s lower lip trembled slightly and fat tears filled the corners of her eyes.
“He’s a man who lives far away. I told you that.” Why now? With Kyle so darned close, why did those little snots have to bring up Caitlyn’s lack of a father now?
“You said I could meet him someday.”
“And you will.”
“When?”
With a sad smile, Sam said, “Sooner than I want you to, I’m afraid.”
“Will I like him?”
Sam nodded. “I think so. Most people do.”
“But not you.”
“It’s more complicated than liking him or not. You’ll see. Now, would you like a snack before you go back to bed?”
Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed, as if she knew that she was being manipulated. At nine she wasn’t as easily distracted as she had once been. “But, Mom—”
“The next time Jenny or Tommy or whoever
