Gage. She tried to remember exactly what had been said. Nothing about Susannah. At least not by name.
And even if Jesse did suspect something, what could he do about it? Go to her father with his vague suspicions? She realized with a start, that was exactly what he would do. Her father’s men would do anything for him, including spy on her. Jesse was no different.
In his simmering dark-eyed look she’d seen more than raw hunger. She’d seen contempt. His look said he knew her. Knew her every secret. Her every thought. Could see into her heart and see things that repulsed him.
Damn the man! She tried to calm herself, but couldn’t still the shaking inside her. How dare he judge her, let alone track her down like a dog? Did he hope to get something on her he could use to get closer to her father? Or something to use as leverage to get her into his bed?
She understood men like him only too well. He’d take advantage of any opportunity. Had she given him the one he needed? She’d been so careful. Everything so deliberate, so calculated. She had tried to think like her father. The thought made her shudder. But she was her father’s daughter, wasn’t she?
Her father, she thought grimly. It would be like him to tell the chauffeur to follow her and report where she’d gone, whom she’d met. But why the chauffeur when J.B. had an assortment of trained thugs?
It definitely raised the question: had her father asked Jesse to follow her tonight? Or had Jesse done it on his own?
She hugged herself, fear making her weak at the thought that her father might know what she’d done. Had she messed up somehow, left a trail that would lead back to her and eventually destroy her?
Worse, she knew she’d passed the point of no return. She couldn’t turn back now. It was too late. She had to go through with it. To the end.
She shuddered at the thought of how it could end. Especially now that she had Jesse after her. Across the courtyard she could see the window of the chauffeur’s quarters clearly from her room. He’d turned out his lights as she had. Was he looking out just as she was? Staring at her as she’d often caught him doing before?
She trembled, aware that more than fear and anger coursed through her veins tonight. As she pressed her fingers to the cool glass, her body ached for something she knew she’d never had, something she couldn’t even put words to. This ache had nothing to do with her baby daughter or the trouble she was in and everything to do with the sultry Texas night and the man across the courtyard. How stupid she’d been to brush against him. Taunting him had been a very big mistake.
She hadn’t expected to feel anything when she touched him but revulsion. But he’d made her long for release, a powerful, purely physical need that ignored what also simmered between them, mutual contempt and mistrust. Worse, he made her feel vulnerable.
Crowes never let themselves be vulnerable. Ever.
She’d have to do something about him. Something drastic. After all, she was her father’s daughter. And he’d taught her that the world revolved around her. She could have anything she wanted. Do anything she wanted. It was the unlimited credit card that came with being his only child—and a daughter, at that. And she’d never needed that credit line more than she did right now.
She forced all thoughts of Jesse Brock from her mind and concentrated on a much more pressing problem. Her father. If he had ordered the chauffeur to follow her, then did he know something or was he just being protective?
Either way, she didn’t like it.
A light knock at her bedroom door made her jump. She stood perfectly still, not making a sound. Go away.
“Miss?” Eunice Fox called through the closed door.
Hurriedly Amanda climbed into her huge poster bed, having long outgrown the frilly decor her father had insisted on, and pulled the covers over her to hide the fact that she was still fully clothed.
“Miss?” the housekeeper persisted.
Amanda didn’t answer. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning.
“Miss, it’s your father,” Eunice said more forcefully. “He insists on speaking to you. Even if I have to wake you.”
Amanda heard Eunice start to open the door and swore under her breath. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” She waited until she heard Eunice’s retreating steps on the tile hallway, before she flung back the covers.
Her father didn’t allow locks in the house, except for his wing, which was off-limits to everyone, including staff and Amanda.
Her father’s security system allowed little privacy, something she only recently had come to hate. The irony of her father’s idea of security didn’t elude her. For all the house’s hidden cameras and state-of-the-art surveillance equipment, the place made her feel anything but secure and yet allowed secrets. More secrets than even her father knew. She hoped.
Hurriedly she stripped, then dressed in a nightgown, robe and slippers. As she stepped to the door, she wondered what could be so important that he would have her awakened at this time of the night. Her footsteps slowed. News of Susannah? Her heart drummed heavy in her chest. Dear God.
She braced herself for bad news. Very bad news.
THE MOMENT Jesse walked into the late-night coffee shop and spotted Dylan Garrett, he saw the former cop’s concerned expression.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked before Jesse could sit down.
Jesse slid the now bagged copy of the newspaper article across the scarred Formica table and motioned for the waitress to bring him a cup of coffee. As Dylan read the short news article, Jesse studied the man across from him. They were about the same age but as different as night and day in both looks and temperament.
Dylan Garrett was a cowboy, rugged, muscular and tanned from hours spent on his ranch. His light-brown hair was sun streaked and he had laugh lines around his blue eyes and a dimple when he smiled, which was often.
But as Dylan looked up from the article, he wasn’t smiling, let alone laughing. “Who gave you this?”
Jesse shook his head. The coffee shop was empty except for a male cook in the back and the waitress. Both looked tired and distracted. Neither was within earshot. “I found it under my door.”
Dylan frowned. He’d been one hell of a cop before he quit the force to return home to the ranch and Jesse trusted him with his life. “Then someone on the Crowe compound gave it to you?”
Jesse’s nodded. “It has to have something to do with the Crowe baby.”
The waitress put a cup of coffee as black and thick as mud in front of him. The pot must have been on the burner for hours, turning the brew to sludge. He picked it up and took a swallow. It was god-awful stuff but he noticed that Dylan had already downed his and was working on a second cup. The man was as tough as he looked.
“Why would someone give it to you?” Dylan asked. “Unless your cover is blown.”
“Amanda caught me following her tonight.” He hated to admit it.
Dylan looked worried. “She’ll go straight to her father,” he said with certainty. No one knew more about J. B.
