Jo Leigh - The Cowboy Wants a Baby

“Fair enough. I’ll do my best.”

“I know that, Lily. That’s why I called you. I’ve done a little research of my own. I’m impressed with this new company of yours. But believe me when I say it was only because I’d met you and seen how you operate that I considered hiring you. Finding my grandson is the most important thing in my life. And that life, if one believes the doctors, will end in approximately six months.”

“Please don’t say that. Anything can happen. Miracles.”

Eve’s smile changed her face. The beauty of the portrait was still there despite the ravagement of years. “There are no miracles. Only things to regret. I don’t want to go that way, you see. I don’t want to die with this terrible regret.”

“I do understand, Eve. I do.”

Eve’s pale-blue gaze met Lily’s and held it steady. The determination there was like steel. “Find him. Do whatever you have to do to bring him home. He’s my only heir. He’ll inherit it all. Make sure he understands that.”

Lily nodded.

“Now drink your tea. It’s probably cold by now.”

MAX SANTANA yearned for a shower. A long, cold one. Riding out to the far pasture hadn’t bothered him, but hauling that big mother cow out of a muddy bog had worn him to the bone. It was the heat. Normally San Antonio was in the high eighties this time in July. But a heat wave had settled across the state, shooting the temperature and the humidity to record levels.

He loved everything about this place except the high heat. Days like this, he had to keep his mind occupied on cool things. Iced tea. Snow. A long swim in a chilly pool.

The only thing Max wanted more than a dip in the pool was a woman.

As he rounded the corner of the big house, he bumped into something soft and sweet. Lily.

“Hey, Max.”

“Sorry about that.”

She waved the small accident away.

Lily was a woman all right, but to him she was practically a sister. What he needed was a stranger with loose morals. Yes, indeed. But he’d think about that in the shower. “Dylan’s looking for you.”

“Pardon?”

“You know. Your brother. He’s looking for you.”

“I’ve been out.” She sounded distracted, her voice was softer than normal. And she hadn’t smiled once.

“What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer him.

“It’s not that son of a bitch Jason Gill, is it? ‘Cause I know where he lives and I’ve got vacation time coming.”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that.”

He folded his arms across his chest and frowned at her. He wanted to look down his nose at her, but with her being five foot nine and him six-one, his scowl wasn’t nearly as effective as it should have been. The more he studied her, the more he knew something was wrong. Lily had her hair up in some sort of tortoiseshell contraption, but a long strand had escaped captivity and hung down past the middle of her back. Lily didn’t miss things like that unless she was preoccupied or worried.

“Max, calm down. It’s a new case, that’s all.”

“What kind of case?”

“I need to find a missing heir.”

He grinned. “How much is at stake? I could sure use an inheritance.”

“You could, huh? And what would you do with your millions, Mr. Santana?”

“I’d buy the O’Neill place.”

She smiled, finally. “You are the most predictable man. So why don’t you tell me where my little brother is?”

“He’s in the office, and I’m going to tell him you called him that.”

“You do, and I’ll tell that O’Neill girl you’ve got the hots for her.” The O’Neill girl was about fifty, and ornery as hell.

“Lily, don’t threaten me. You know I can be vindictive as hell.”

She slugged him in the shoulder, and for a skinny girl like her, she made it hurt. “You don’t have a vindictive bone in your body. But you sure need a shower.” She waved her hand in front of her nose and made a face at him. “You smell like wet cow.”

He grunted, then headed off again. After his shower, he’d dive in the pool so fast he’d hardly feel the splash. Oh, yeah.

DYLAN WAS IN the makeshift office, actually a spare bedroom in the old part of the house. They’d moved in two desks and a filing cabinet, then loaded the place with electronic equipment: fax, computers, printers, phones, scanner, all of which would be transferred to the upstairs offices as soon as they were ready. For an interim space, the bedroom wasn’t bad. Just small.

Lily put her purse in her bottom drawer then waited while Dylan finished his phone call. From his tone, she gathered it was business, and as she shamelessly eavesdropped, she realized he was talking to Bill Richardson, one of the homicide detectives working on Julie Cooper’s case.

Searching for Cole Bishop was going to prevent her from assisting Dylan, but given the circumstances, it couldn’t be helped. With Eve so ill, there wasn’t a moment to waste. Besides, Dylan on his own was quite formidable, and she had no doubt that he’d do everything possible to find Julie. She just hoped he wouldn’t get hurt. Either physically or emotionally. So much was at stake.

“I’ll get back to you,” Dylan said as he acknowledged her with a nod. “And see what you can do about those files, huh?” He listened for another few moments, said his goodbye and hung up. His attention was focused on her now, but she could see the strain of the morning’s work on his face.

“How goes it?”

He shrugged. “Just trying to get up to speed. What was your meeting about?”

“I’ve got a case.”

“Now?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I know how important it is to concentrate on finding Julie, but this is something of an emergency.” She explained about Eve’s request, and about the ticking clock. Dylan had met Eve on several occasions and his concern for her was immediate.

“Okay, I can do this on my own, but I think we need to get an assistant now instead of waiting for the offices to be finished.”

“I agree. Any suggestions?”

He shook his head. “I’ll make some calls in the morning.”

Lily turned on her computer, ready to start the search for Cole Bishop. She heard Dylan curse softly, and when she looked up, he was staring at his notepad, his face a mask of frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Things aren’t adding up right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing concrete. It’s more gut feeling than anything else. Something’s eating at me.”

“Well, then, you’d better pay attention. I don’t know anyone who has better gut instincts than you.”

He gave her a sardonic grin. “Not always.”

She hadn’t meant for the conversation to go there. Dylan had been on an undercover assignment in Dallas the previous year. His gut instincts had taken him into the very heart of J. B. Crowe’s mob family, but last October, he’d made one mistake—and that was all it took in his line of work. His cover had been blown, and he barely made it out of there alive. “Come on, Dylan. Did we or didn’t we agree not to wallow in the past?”

“We agreed. But as I recall, it was after you ate an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s as you rehashed some memories I’m too much of a gentleman to bring up.”

“Subtle. Like a sledgehammer.”

“All I’m saying is the things we went through are a part of us. I don’t think we can forget about them.”

“But we don’t have to beat ourselves up over and over, do we? Frankly, I don’t want to live like that.”

He leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his neck. “So why don’t you find someone new? Someone who isn’t married?”

“Date? Me? No. No way.”

“Why not? You planning on becoming a nun?”