Lone Star Wedding (9 page)

Lily beamed at her daughter, and laughed out loud when the filly nudged her in an obvious ploy for attention. “See? Didn't I tell you I'm the luckiest woman in the world?”

Hugging her mother goodbye, Hannah remembered the dream Rosita had described. A shiver crawled up her spine. Forcing the unease away, she prayed her mother would always be this happy.

 

Parker jiggled the change in his pocket. Never one to enjoy standing around doing nothing, he glanced at his watch. He had a meeting at three. Although he had plenty of time, he was in a hurry to be on his way.

He'd been waiting by his car. Wondering how much longer Hannah would be, he strode into the stables. The
air was rife with the smell of horses and hay and manure. Several of the animals poked their heads out as he passed. Two teenage boys were pitching straw, a couple of slightly older ranch hands were cleaning out stalls. It made Parker appreciate his clean, tastefully decorated office in the city.

Through a window, he could see Lily brushing down a young horse. Hannah wasn't with her. Where had she gone? Glancing around, he caught a glimpse of her white shirt up ahead. She stopped abruptly and let out a little yelp. Listening intently, he stayed in the shadows, and crept closer.

 

Hannah pressed a hand to her throat. “Oh,” she said, her eyes trained on a man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “I didn't know anyone else was in here.”

The man was large, broad-shouldered and muscular. Although she couldn't see his eyes beneath the brim of his dusty cowboy hat, she could feel them on her body. Something in that gaze made her skin crawl. If only she hadn't allowed her curiosity to get the best of her. Then she would have been safe with her mother instead of roaming the stables.

“You must be one of the Cassidy woman's daughters,” he said. “The resemblance is unmistakable.”

The guttural rasp in his voice prevented his observation from being a compliment. Unwilling to let him see how nervous he made her, Hannah forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Do you know my mother?”

The man lifted his chin, and Hannah got her first glimpse of cold, blue eyes. “I know everything that goes on around this place. I'm Ryan's right-hand man. Have been since I was practically still a kid. The Double Crown couldn't run without me.”

A braggart, she thought. That didn't necessarily mean
he was dangerous. It didn't mean he wasn't, either. Keeping her distance, she said, “Watching over a ranch this size must be difficult.”

His step in her direction was deliberate. His expression said he was enjoying playing cat and mouse.

He wasn't the kind of man she would want to meet in a dark alley. But it wasn't as if they were alone in the huge building, she told herself. There were ranch hands nearby, and her mother, and Parker was somewhere.

“I was born to ranching,” he said. “Among other things.” His gaze raked over her boldly. “I'm Clint Lockhart.”

Hannah turned in a half circle, pretending that she hadn't noticed the hand he'd held out. “I should be going.”

“No need to rush off,” he declared. “See that horse over there? It's an Arabian mare. Worth a small fortune.”

Keeping Clint Lockhart in her peripheral vision, she glanced at the animal. The horse was black, large, and beautiful. “It reminds me of the filly Ryan gave to my mother.”

“Ryan has a good eye for horseflesh. Among other things.”

She felt Clint Lockhart's eyes on her breasts. It required a conscious effort not to squirm.

“But then,” he murmured, “so do I.”

This time when he stepped toward her, she stepped away. His eyes narrowed, and she could see the lines beside them. He looked to be in his mid-forties. His hair hung down his neck in a short pony tail. Neither the style nor the fact that there was no gray in the reddish-brown tresses did anything to make him look young. Or less intimidating.

His lips lifted in a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
“Don't be shy, little darlin'. When you're the best there is, you don't have to use force.”

He tipped his hat, and finally went back to his earlier task. Hannah hurried away with her heart in her throat.

“Hey.”

A second mewling scream in a matter of minutes rushed out of her. She jumped back. “Parker! You scared me half to death.”

Since apologizing for something that wasn't his fault evidently wasn't his style, he made no reply. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “What do you say we get out of here?”

They bumped into each other in the center of the corridor, a direct reaction to the horses poking their heads out of the stalls lining both walls. Keeping well out of the horses' reach, they turned to face each other. Hannah's heart pounded an erratic rhythm. She took a deep, steadying breath, and wound up wrinkling up her nose. “The next time someone from the country complains about the smell of exhaust fumes and smog, I'm going to have a reply.”

Parker's chuckle came as a surprise even to him. “Ryan thinks everyone loves the beasts,” he said.

They both took a deep breath the instant they reached the outdoors. Ah, that was better, Hannah thought. “I take it you don't?” Hannah asked.

“I don't
dislike
them. But I prefer cars. Any make. Any year. Any day.”

She eyed several chestnut-colored horses in a nearby corral. “They're beautiful creatures, but they scare me.” And then, in a voice gone noticeably deeper, she said, “But not as much as Clint Lockhart.”

Parker's eyes narrowed as they followed the red-haired man in the distance. He hadn't been close enough to hear
the conversation between Hannah and Ryan's foreman, but he'd heard the tone in the other man's voice. Clint Lockhart wasn't a man Parker trusted.

“I asked Ryan about him once,” he said. “He said two things. Number one, Lockhart knows ranching. And number two, their fathers went way back.”

“Is he really Ryan's right-hand man?”

“Lockhart likes to think so.”

Hannah shuddered.

“I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley. I'm not so sure he would take no for an answer.”

“The way I did, you mean.”

Hannah's silence drew Parker's attention. She was gazing into the distance as they walked, the breeze tangling her hair, ruffling the sleeves of her white shirt.

“I should have handled the other night better,” she said without looking at him. “I rarely get angry.”

“I rarely get turned down.”

A smile started at the corners of her mouth, blooming into a full-fledged grin.

“I'm glad somebody finds this situation amusing,” he said.

“This isn't a situation, Parker.”

They'd reached his car. “What would you call it?” he asked over the car's roof.

She turned her head smoothly, finally meeting his gaze. It occurred to him that she was studying him as closely as he was studying her. “I'd say we're becoming friends.”

“Friends?” There was disbelief in his voice.

Hannah's smile returned.

“Friends,” he said again. “I'll be damned.”

 

“So basically, you're saying that you take marriages apart, piece by piece.”

Parker could feel Hannah's eyes on him, but he kept his gaze trained on the highway and the traffic. He and Hannah had been bona fide friends for more than an hour. He still couldn't believe it. “The marriage has already come apart by the time a client comes to me.”

“Do you ever try to talk a client into reconciling?”

He checked the rearview mirror, changed lanes. “That's a marriage counselor's job. Most of my clients have already been through that step. I don't split up two people. I split up their assets, preferably not down the middle.”

“That doesn't sound fair.”

“It's all done within the limits of the law, Hannah.”

He could tell by her noisily drawn breath how she felt about the laws he'd mentioned. He hid a smile. They'd been arguing about the same thing for the entire car ride. The trip back into San Antonio had never gone faster.

The traffic light on the edge of the downtown district turned red as he neared. Pulling to a stop, he glanced in her direction. She was looking out the window at a man holding a sign on the corner.

“I still say it's too easy to get a divorce these days.”

Parker thought about suggesting that she tell that to Ryan the next time she saw him, but Hannah unhooked her seat belt and opened her door before he had the chance. “Where are you—”

He was too late. The door closed, and she rushed to the corner, dropping some bills into the begging man's hand. She was back in a flash, slightly winded, slightly wind-blown, and glowing.

“Why the hell did you do that?”

“He's hungry.”

“You're enabling him to continue to beg.”

“I'm enabling him to buy himself supper.”

“Or booze.”

“You don't know what he's been through, Parker. Maybe he used to be a hardworking citizen, and his life fell apart a little at a time. Maybe he lost his job and then his wife got sick and died and he didn't have any insurance so he lost his house and his will to go on. Maybe he's forgotten how it feels to be looked at with kindness and not derision. Maybe—”

“Maybe he's never known how it feels to put in an honest day's work.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. Even if that's true, there was probably a reason.”

Shaking his head, he stared at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I was just looking for the rose-colored glasses.”

She ran a hand through the air a few inches in front of her face. “Contacts.”

She turned those eyes, contacts and all, on him. They were gray, soulful, the kind of eyes a man could lose himself in. Parker was losing himself right now, losing his train of thought, his sense of composure, his sense of reality. He was waiting at a busy intersection, but he was remembering another time, another place, the weight of her breast in his hand, her breath on his cheek, her soft sigh of pleasure.

A sound came from behind him. Somewhere.

“Parker?”

He grunted something that passed for, “Yes?”

“Green means go.”

A horn honked in annoyance.

Jerking slightly, Parker put the car in gear and his mind back on track. Where were they? Oh, yes. He was pointing out the obvious pitfalls to feeding beggars. “People will take advantage of you if you let them.”

She shrugged, totally unaffected. “I've found that if I
keep my expectations good and high, people try to live up to them.”

Parker strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The fact that Hannah exuded a dynamic vitality didn't change the fact that her unfailing belief in people was as impractical as it was impossible.

She must have noticed his barely controlled annoyance because she said, “What?”

He kept all expression from his voice as he said, “I was just wondering what fairy tale you stepped out of.”

“People rarely let me down, Parker. How about you?”

“How about me?”

“Do people often let you down?” she asked.

He didn't give people the chance to let him down. He'd learned that at his father's knee.

He supposed it was possible that there was a grain of truth to her theory. Perhaps there were people in the world who strove to live up to her expectations simply because she kept her expectations high. His gaze caught on her mouth. Maybe it was her wholesomeness. Or maybe it was because she was easy to like. Hell, he liked her, and he didn't like many people. More surprising was that she seemed to like him. Surprising and unsettling, because he wanted her to like him. And Parker Malone rarely cared. He was out to win cases, not popularity contests. He'd learned that at his father's knee, too.

“My father would have a field day with you,” he said.

“Ah, yes, the legendary J. D. Malone. The lean, mean divorce machine.”

“Some people say I'm just like him.”

“What would you say?” she asked.

He pulled to a stop at the curb in front of The Perfect Occasion. “I'd say they're right.”

“I've got news for you.”

“Meaning?”

“Don't panic, but there's goodness in you, Parker. I'll bet I could find some goodness in your father, too.”

That sounded like a challenge. And he liked challenges almost as much as he liked winning. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

Hannah turned her head slowly. There had been something lazily seductive in the tone of Parker's voice. There was something just as seductive in his eyes. “You mean, bet?” she asked.

His nod said one thing, his smile something else entirely. “Betting is illegal. Think of it as an experiment.”

“What kind of stakes would this
experiment
entail?”

His gaze homed in on her mouth. She raised her eyebrows in silent expectation. “If you suggest the winner gets to take the loser to bed, I'll be forced to hit you with my purse.”

Only his eyes smiled. “I like the way your mind works. Normally, I would agree to those terms. After all, I'd be a winner either way, but it would be awkward, since you're waiting for a commitment, and we're just friends.”

Hannah studied him thoughtfully. No wonder women put their panties in his pockets.

No matter how sexy he was, there was more to him than dark good looks and a cunning mind. She wouldn't mind the opportunity to prove it to him. “I think we're getting off the subject. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the
experiment
on the table is that I can find goodness in your father. You're on.”

“We still need stakes.”

“Experiments don't have stakes.”

“This one will,” he said. “We can decide on them after tonight.”