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* * *
It had all happened so fast. One minute he’d been lying on Tessa, her dew-covered skin fusing with his own, her lips soft and sensuous, her hazel eyes glazed in passion—the next he’d witnessed the horror of the blaze, horses screaming in death throes, hooves crashing in the billowing, lung-burning smoke. He’d felt the explosion, been thrown to the floor.
When he finally awakened, his skin burning, his face and hands unrecognizable, it had been three days later. He’d learned the devastating news: both his parents had been killed.
Colton, eyes red and shadowed, coffee-colored hair falling over his eyes, had been waiting for Denver to wake up.
“It’s old man Kramer’s fault,” Colton insisted as he huddled near Denver’s bed, avoiding his eyes and watching the steady drip of an IV tube that ran directly into the back of Denver’s right hand.
“How—how could it be?” God, he hurt all over.
“He’s been stealing from the ranch. He was up in the office altering the books when the fire started. If you ask me, he did it to destroy the evidence.”
“You can’t prove it.”
“Can’t I?” Colton thundered, his gray eyes sizzling like lightning. “Weren’t you supposed to go over the books that day? Didn’t Tessa insist that you go riding with her instead?” He stood then, the back of his neck dark in anger, his boots muffled on the carpeting.
Denver’s dry throat worked in defense.
“What did she do? Seduce you?” Colton must have seen some betraying spark in Denver’s eyes. “Of course she did,” he muttered in disgust.
“No—”
“Don’t you see? It was all part of the plan—Curtis’s plan to rip off the ranch! Dad was on to him, and he had to cover his tracks.”
“No way!” Denver rasped.
“Whose idea was it to go riding?”
Denver didn’t answer.
“Right. And I’ll bet Tessa was more than willing.”
“Get out of here.”
Colton didn’t move. “You’re a blind man, brother! She and that drunk of an old man of hers have been bleeding us dry. I’d even bet Mitch is in on it with them.”
Denver tried to sit up, pushing aside the pain that scorched the length of his body. “I won’t believe—”
“Then don’t. But think about this. Mom and Dad are dead, Denver. Dead! Dad thought Curtis was embezzling, and he was out to prove it. Doesn’t it seem a little too convenient that all the records were destr
oyed on the day Dad asked you to go over the books?”
“He didn’t say a word about Curtis.”
“He couldn’t, could he?” Colton pointed out. “He wanted an impartial opinion!” Colton’s furious gaze skated across the wrinkled sheets and gauze bandages to land on Denver’s scarred face. “I know that you and I have never seen eye to eye, but I thought you’d agree with me on this one.” His jaw worked for a minute. “They’re gone, Denver. And you—look at you.” Colton’s eyes clouded with pity. “Look at what they did, for Christ’s sake.”
“Get out!” Denver didn’t want to think about the damage to himself. He’d always been proud, and the look on Colton’s face twisted his guts. He couldn’t think about the pity in Tessa’s eyes should she ever see him again.
Colton’s gray eyes flashed furiously. “Any way you cut it, Denver, Curtis Kramer is to blame.” He strode out of the room then, leaving Denver alone with his scars and his memories.
* * *
Now, shaking his head to clear it of the unpleasant past, Denver rammed the car into gear and backed out of the law firm’s parking lot. The car rolled easily onto the street and Denver turned north, toward the airport. Not once since the fire had he returned to the ranch. He’d never seen Tessa again.
At first pride had kept him from her, and eventually Colton had convinced him that she had, intentionally or not, conspired against him. He’d told himself he was doing her one big favor by leaving, and he’d been right. He had been badly scarred, physically and emotionally. Plastic surgery had fixed the exterior, he thought cynically as he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the same blue eyes he’d been born with. One lid was a mere fraction lower than the other, but his skin was smooth, the result of more skin grafts than he wanted to count. But no surgeon or psychiatrist had been able to remove the bitterness he felt whenever he thought about that day.
“So don’t think about it,” he muttered aloud, scowling at himself. It was many miles north to the ranch, and the airport was only across town. He could drive to the airport and return to Los Angeles as he’d planned, or he could phone his partner and take time off—the vacation he hadn’t allowed himself in years. Jim would understand, and business was unseasonably slow. But if he stayed in Montana, he’d have to face Tessa again.
