is a rancher in Colorado. The other, a contractor, lives in Dependable and was easy to contact.” Because he, too, had managed to land his rear in jail, Lynn had discovered when she’d checked in after arriving here. Merely a charge for disorderly conduct, and easily resolved. Something she’d hoped the major’s would be, too.
Determined to make it so, she continued. “Joseph had hoped to notify you all simultaneously, but I was delayed in getting all the pertinent information I need surrounding your case. We thought it best for me to have everything before contacting you.”
Thank goodness the next phase in his hearing process was also delayed because of a clogged court docket and the fact the primary witness—the driver in the car he hit—couldn’t be present yet. The woman was stuck in a hospital bed, in traction. Unfortunate for the woman, but it bought Lynn time. Time she apparently was going to require.
Relaxing his grip, he uncrumpled the paper. “So why name his sons in his will and blow the family-secrets closet wide open?”
“Joseph believes Marcus finally saw the error of his ways.”
Branigan raised his gaze to hers. “Did you know this Marcus?”
“Yes. He frequently worked with those of us in Legal preparing contracts for suppliers or for developers who wanted the McCoys to open new stores. Though more often than not, he teleconferenced or e-mailed because he was usually off somewhere handling client relations.”
“And now everyone knows the sort of ‘handling’ he liked to do.” The major gave her a quick once-over, his meaning clear in his sharp eyes.
Lynn kept her mouth shut. While she’d caught Marcus looking a little too long at her breasts and legs and he had always indulged in mild flirtation with her—as well as with a lot of other women at McCoy Enterprises—things had never progressed further. He’d either learned his lesson, or he’d considered her and the other ladies to be too close to home. He had left one other woman from Dependable, besides the maid, pregnant and rich but that woman had been the last of his fertile flings.
They hoped.
The major reread the letter. “Seems he didn’t have very good relations with grizzly bears.”
“Apparently.”
He looked her dead in the eye. “So why do you think he claimed us—the ‘Lost Millionaires’—in his will? Especially after going to such expense years ago to cut himself loose from his duty and responsibility?”
Lynn didn’t blink. “I can’t begin to speculate.”
Oh, but she had. Endlessly. And she had her theories. None of which she was going to share with the man she’d been sent to bring into the McCoy fold without scandal.
Marcus realizing the error of his ways certainly wasn’t one of her theories. Nor was guilt. That wasn’t his style—even if he’d placed his illegitimate sons in his will because he fully expected to live a lot longer than he had, a reasonable assumption on his part considering how robust Joseph still was at nearly seventy-five years of age.
Major Branigan tossed the letter onto the table. “Doesn’t matter why. I’m not going to be attending some family reunion anytime soon.” He turned and walked to the tall windows in his attractively decorated living room with its view of the distant ocean.
He was so tall and well shaped beneath his white T-shirt and jeans that Lynn had to admit she preferred the view she had from where she sat. Which was saying something, because she sure as heck wasn’t a card-carrying member of the Pocket Watchers of America.
She’d never even spoken with the girls who’d wasted their time checking out the back pockets of the boys’ Levi’s in school. Her focus was normally on her schooling or work. But the major was work.
Fortunately, the tension radiating from every lean, hard inch of the man squashed any pleasure that checking out his butt might have given her.
The breadth of his shoulders expanded as he inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. “Even if I were free to leave town, I still wouldn’t be interested. I’m a Marine, ma’am.”
“Not for long if you’re convicted. I’m sure you’re well aware of the fact that you’ll be dishonorably discharged before you can say ‘ooh-rah.’”
His hands fisted at his sides again. “That’s hoo-rah. And what happens to me is none of your business.”
“Your grandfather, Joseph McCoy, has made it my business. He’s not about to let a grandson he’s just found out about go to jail if he doesn’t have to.” An attitude that had shocked her, given Joseph’s morally upstanding reputation.
The major turned slowly to face her, his jaw hardened with the sort of determination only a decade in the Marines could give a man. “I said yes when the cops asked if I was driving that truck the night of the accident. I’m afraid Mr. McCoy is out of luck.”
Her knee-jerk response was Not if I can help it, but something about his admission of guilt struck her as odd. Coupled with what she knew about him from his files…
The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. Something was wrong. Did Joseph suspect as much, also? Was that why he was willing to seek special treatment for the first time that she was aware of?
She shook her intuition off. She wasn’t here to worry about right or wrong. She was here to earn the promotion Joseph had all but promised her in exchange for the presence of this grandson at his birthday party on July third. The promotion could be one more step upward. One more step toward the security she could never be too sure of.
Her third goal—a security for which she’d do anything, sacrifice anything.
Chapter Two
“You should have more faith in my abilities, Major Branigan.”
“Your abilities are not in question, Ms. Hayes.” Though Rick had tried to keep his attention fixed on the distant view of the late-morning sun glinting off the Pacific Ocean, his body was all too aware of the woman seated behind him. His gaze strayed from the older apartment complex down the hill from his condominium to his smashed red pickup truck sitting out front.
What had Pete been thinking?
But that was just it. Pete didn’t think; he simply did. Always had. When they were kids, Rick, as Pete’s best friend, had been there to divert disaster. A lot had changed between them since, yet not everything.
Needing to move, to do something, he turned from the window and headed for the door. Nothing more than a symbolic way out, but at the moment, he’d take anything he could get.
“What is in question is how we’re going to—Major Branigan?” she practically yelled.
He glanced back at her as he yanked open the front door. Her exotic eyes were wide. For the first time since she’d strolled through his door she looked flustered, no longer the queen of her domain.
Normally, he would have felt guilty about being so rude, but he’d stowed his conscience the day the cops had come knocking.
He was about to step out—
