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A faint, high sound rose on the wind from down the trail, almost like the ring tune on her cellular phone. She lifted her head and listened, but the sound faded away.
“This was a perfect end to the evening. But I suppose we’d better get back,” she said with regret. “It’s almost eleven.”
When he offered a hand to help her stand, a sensation of awareness zipped up her arm.
A sensation that made her think about the possibilities ahead if she ever dared to take that chance.
THE PHONE RANGat eleven in the evening. Rubbing his face in frustration, Robert reached for the receiver on his desk.
He’d been going over the plans for the Walking Stones’ summer production sale for the past hour, proofreading the sales catalog that would be printed and mailed in two weeks to buyers all over the world.
There could be no mistakes—not even one small error—that might reflect badly on the ranch or its breeding herd.
“Yeah?”
“The investigator has some of the information you wanted.”
The silky, sophisticated voice set his teeth on edge, but Robert didn’t pay his lawyers for being likable. “Fax it.”
“He says there’ll be more, but I’ll send along what I’ve got.”
In the background, Robert heard the clinking of crystal, the murmur of voices, and the faint sounds of music. “Thanks.”
He started to hang up, but the lawyer cleared his throat.
“Thought you’d like to know that the guy is out with your daughter tonight. When I got a little too close, as if I wanted to cut in, he practically dragged her away by the hair.”
Cassie had rebelled and married a no-good hustler. Surely Jolie was not going to make the same mistake, following blind emotions instead of using the Maxwell brains she was born with.
“I want that information on himtonight,” Robert growled. “And as soon as it comes through my fax machine, you and I are going to talk.”
“Say, Robert. When your daughter is free of him, I sure wouldn’t mind an introduction. She’s quite a looker.”
Robert slammed down the receiver. Shoved the stack of papers in front of him to one side and reached for the bottom-right desk drawer where he kept a glass and a bottle of Chivas away from Beth’s watchful eyes.
After the first tumblerful slid down, he held the glass to the light and tipped it this way and that, watching the last drops slide as he waited for the warmth to bloom in his chest. A softsound—the subtle creak of that one floorboard near the front entryway—put his senses on alert.
Eleven-fifteen on Friday. Where did that kid think he was going? Anger rushed through him.
“Stop,” he roared, shoving his chair away from the desk. He ignored the heavy feeling in his chest and strode out of his office to the center of the darkened great room.
Bobby stood at the front door. His jacket and boots, evidence of his plans, had been tossed to one side of the entryway. Something silver glinted in his right hand.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Robert demanded. He marched across the remaining stretch of room, catching Bobby’s hand as the boy moved to put the object in his hip pocket.
It was a single truck key. One of the extras Robert had hidden in his desk drawer.
“You were going to sneak out and take one of the trucks,” Robert said wearily. “Despite everything—despite the possibility that you could go to jail for defying your probation—you were going to take off like some thief in the night.”
The pressure grew stronger in his chest, settling like a hundred-pound anvil right over his heart.
Bobby’s chin lifted defiantly. “It’s gonna kill me to just sit here, night after night. I can’t do it.” His gaze slid away, his voice lowered. Something akin to pain glittered in his eyes. “There’s someone I gotta see.”
The anvil squeezed down harder, making each breath an effort. Cold sweat trickled down Robert’s back. “I...can’t watch you every minute. I’m not your jailer. But if you...drive...if you make any mistakes...that new judge who took LeVay’s place is going to throw the book at you.”
Bobby jerked his hand away and reached for his jacket and boots. “You can’t buy him off as easily? Too bad LeVay retired.”His voice was hard. “That oughta be interesting, seeing what happens if you no longer have half the county in your pocket.”
He spun away, jerked open the door and stepped outside, leaving it open behind him.
