Man on a Mission (8 page)

He wondered how different his relationship with his siblings and his father would have been had his mother lived. Would she have provided the warmth, the commitment to family, the unconditional love that had been lacking under his father's care?

He shoved these thoughts aside, knowing nothing
could be gained by wondering what if. What seemed more important at the moment was trying to decide if he could trust April Cartwright with his secret.

“I met your sister today,” April said.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

She nodded. “She brought by a detailed list of the first guests who'll be here. She seemed very nice.”

Mark almost laughed aloud. Few people found Johnna nice. She was usually abrasive, hardheaded and driven. If she had been nice to April, then there was probably an ulterior motive.

“Johnna's a lawyer,” Mark said. “A defense lawyer, but now she has to spend part of her time working the ranch because that's what my father's will says.”

“Were you sad when your dad died?” Brian asked.

Mark hesitated before replying. It would be easy to say no, to tell the boy that Adam had been a heartless bastard and the world was better off without him.

That was what Mark wanted to believe, because it made his father's death easier to accept. It made the poor connection between them his father's fault and not Mark's.

“Yeah, I was sad,” he finally answered, and in his simple statement, he recognized the truth. He was sad, sad for all the lost years, sad for what he and Adam would never have.

“My dad isn't dead, but he makes me sad,” Brian said softly.

Mark saw the pain that darkened April's lovely eyes at her son's words. He wondered what had happened to her marriage.

For some reason the sadness in her eyes and the
gentle touch of her hand to her son's touched him deeply. Through the rest of the meal the talk remained pleasant. Both Brian and April asked him questions about the daily running of the ranch when guests were present, and he answered them as well as he could if he were truly suffering some sort of brain damage.

It was frustrating as hell to pretend he didn't have the mental faculties of an intelligent man. He found himself watching every word, carefully weighing each response.

He wished he could just throw caution to the wind, explain the whole subterfuge to April. But he knew better than anyone that the safest course of action would be for him to maintain silence. Still, the burden of his secret weighed heavily on him.

For the past three weeks, since making the decision to appear addled, Mark had been forced to live an existence of isolation. In those weeks he hadn't had a truly meaningful discussion with anyone, nor had he been able to relax for a moment, fearful that he might somehow give himself away.

They were clearing the table when a knock sounded at the door. Brian answered and instantly turned to his mom. “It's Ricky. Can I go over to his house and play his new video game with him?”

April nodded, then looked at her watch. “Okay, but be home by eight-thirty.”

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Brian shot out the door. “Thanks, Mom. See you in the morning, Mark,” he said over his shoulder, then he pulled the door closed, leaving Mark and April alone in the small cottage.

April flashed him what appeared to be a slightly
nervous smile as she put the last dish away in the cabinet. “Sit down, Mark. We need to have a talk.” She gestured to the sofa.

“A talk?” He eyed her curiously as he sat.

She joined him on the sofa, her expression somber. Mark's curiosity was piqued. He couldn't imagine what she needed to discuss with him.

She raked a hand through her short, pale curls and drew a deep breath. “Mark, you mustn't kiss me anymore.” Her cheeks instantly flamed with color.

“Why not? I liked kissing you, and you liked kissing me.”

Her blush intensified. “That's not the point.” She sighed and once again threaded a hand through her curls. “You're a Delaney, and that means you're one of my bosses. It isn't good to have a relationship with a boss.”

“I'm not a boss,” Mark scoffed. “Matthew is the boss. I just work with the horses.”

“Mark, you're a very nice man, but it isn't appropriate for you to kiss me anymore.” She averted her gaze from his.

He wanted to kiss her again now, at this very moment, with the blush on her cheeks and her discomfort with the conversation so obvious.

He wanted to kiss her and watch the green of her eyes deepen and taste the sweetness of her lips. His fingers itched with the need to caress her soft skin, to feel the sensual softness of her blond curls.

“Matthew doesn't want us kissing,” she finally said, and looked at him once again.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He told you that?”

“Not exactly,” she hedged. “But he said he didn't want me taking advantage of you.”

“Taking advantage…” Mark cursed inwardly. For years Matthew had virtually ignored Mark. But now, after a knock on Mark's head, Matthew was suddenly the poster boy for big brothers of the world. “Matthew is not my keeper, and he has no right to involve himself in my personal life.” Instantly he recognized he'd been too eloquent in his statement.

April's eyes narrowed slightly, and he saw a trace of suspicion in the depths. “He's your brother and he worries about you,” she finally said.

“Matthew doesn't worry about anything but the ranch,” he countered, his tone sharper than intended.

April frowned. “You mentioned something earlier about your father's will forcing your sister to spend time on the ranch.”

Mark nodded and saw her relax as the conversation moved away from the reasons he shouldn't kiss her. “In his will, it's stipulated that all of us have to spend twenty-five hours a week working the ranch for a year or else the ranch is sold and everything goes to our aunt Clara.” Again he realized he wasn't using the words of a man who found thinking and speaking difficult. But April didn't seem to notice.

“And that's why Matthew wasn't sure if the ranch would remain open or not?” she asked.

“Yeah. We'll never make it the whole year,” Mark said, voicing what he'd subconsciously known since the moment the will had been read.

“Why not?”

Mark sighed. “Johnna hates the ranch and everything to do with it. She and Matthew butt heads about
nearly everything.” Mark suddenly realized why Johnna had been nice to April. If Matthew had indicated he didn't like April, or didn't trust her, then Johnna would take April under her wing just to be perverse.

“What about your brother Luke?” April asked curiously.

“Luke doesn't care much about anything but his guitar and having a good time. He and Johnna will never make it the whole year. The Delaney Dude Ranch will eventually be sold.”

“And what will you do if that happens?” Her voice was soft with empathy.

He was surprised by her question. He'd expected her to worry about what she would do if that happened. “I don't know,” he replied, and stared thoughtfully at the wall.

His father had always told him he wasn't good for anything other than dealing with the horses, and without the ranch there would be no horses for him to tend. “I try not to think about it.”

April placed her hand on his forearm, her gaze impossibly soft as it searched his face. “I'm sure you'll be just fine no matter what happens.”

He covered her hand with his and smiled at her. “I sure have a strong need to kiss you again.”

She withdrew her hand as if his skin were on fire, and again a deep blush engulfed her features. She stood and stepped away from the sofa, but not before he saw a flare of desire spark in her eyes. “Mark, we just went through all of that,” she exclaimed.

Mark stood and approached her, standing so close to her he could feel her heat, see the emerald flecks
that made her eyes so impossibly green. “You said Matthew didn't want you taking advantage of me. But you didn't say anything about me taking advantage of you.”

Before she could protest, before she could reply in any fashion, he took her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.

For a brief moment she remained stiff, but as his tongue deepened the kiss, she softened, sweetly yielding to his embrace and the heat their mouths produced.

Mark pulled her more tightly against him, loving the way her soft curves felt against the hard planes of his body. His hands smoothed up her back, beneath her blouse, touching her impossibly smooth skin.

At that instant he knew kissing her wouldn't be enough. He wouldn't be satisfied until he touched every inch of her sweet skin, felt her nakedness next to his, possessed her completely.

“April,” he whispered against her throat as his lips left hers. “Sweet April.” She gasped with pleasure as his mouth blazed a trail down the side of her neck.

He wanted her so badly, he ached inside. He wanted to whisk her into his arms, take her into her bedroom and love her until they both were lost in a haze of passion.

“April, my brain damage. It isn't real. I've been faking it.” He hadn't meant to blurt it out so starkly, but he suddenly realized there was no way he could take his caresses any further, no way he could make love to her without telling her the truth.

Instantly April stiffened against him, then stepped away. He held his breath as he saw first disbelief, then anger, darken April's eyes.

A
pril stared at the handsome cowboy standing before her, trying to make sense of what he'd just said. But it was difficult to think with the imprint of his mouth still burning hers, with the memory of his warm hands on the bare skin of her back. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

He sank back on the sofa and patted the space next to him. “Please, come sit down and let me explain.”

Grudgingly she did as he asked, perching on the very edge of the sofa and staring at him in bewilderment. “What do you mean, you've been faking it?”

“I mean just what I said. I don't have any lingering brain damage. I was not turned into a simpleton by the shovel that hit me.”

April searched his face, her mind working to make sense of what he'd just said. Shock ricocheted through her, yet on some level deep inside her, she wasn't so surprised after all.

She thought of those odd moments when she'd thought she'd seen intelligence radiating from his eyes. One minute his gaze would be vague, like soft, fuzzy dove wings, and the next it would be gunmetal-gray and sharp as twin bullets. His conversations with her had been confusing, as well. Sometimes she'd forget that he had brain damage.

“Then why…why are you pretending otherwise?” she asked incredulously. As her shock dissipated, a surge of anger welled up inside her.

“Because it's the only way I know to catch the person who killed Marietta and tried to kill me.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Marietta was the social director before you. I met her one night out by the barn and—”

April interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “Walter Tilley told me all about it.” She frowned, trying to focus on his words instead of the deep sense of betrayal that swept through her. After all, Mark Delaney was nothing to her. Why should she be angry that he'd lied to her when he'd lied to his own family, as well?

The answer came swiftly. Because he had just kissed her until her senses spun, because he had stirred in her a deep want that would have made it easy for her to give in—and it had all been done from a point of deception.

“What about your family? How could you keep up the pretense with them?” She couldn't imagine any reason strong enough to justify what he'd done, what he apparently intended to keep doing to his brothers and sister.

He frowned and his eyes darkened to the deepest
shadows of night. “Because I don't know if I can trust them.”

Again April was struck by how odd the relationship of the Delaney siblings was. Odd and somehow sad. Of course, she'd trusted her own father, and that had been an enormous mistake. “I thought the sheriff knew who had hurt you,” she said. “Some worker who disappeared after that night.”

“Lenny Boles,” Mark replied. “That's who the sheriff thinks did it.”

“But you don't think so?”

“No, I don't. I don't know what happened to Lenny, but I don't think he had anything to do with Marietta's death and my injuries.” He frowned and rubbed his forehead, as if suffering a headache. “Lenny was a loner and something of a gutless worm. Branding cattle made him ill. I can't imagine him having the stomach for bashing somebody over the head.”

“Then who?” April couldn't help asking. It was much easier to focus on the crime that had occurred than her warring emotions concerning his confession.

“I don't know. That's what the addle-minded pretense is all about.” He leaned toward her, his gaze more intense than she'd ever seen it before. That intensity nearly stole her breath away.

She'd thought him handsome before, with the characteristic vagueness in his eyes, but with the sharpness of intelligence radiating from their depths, he was devastating.

“Something is going on here at the ranch…something I can't get a handle on. But Marietta knew about it, and the night she tried to tell me
what was going on, she was killed and I almost was killed, as well.”

April drew in a deep breath and averted her gaze, finding it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying while looking at him. She was still too close to the intimacy they had shared only moments before. “And you don't have any idea what might be going on?”

“Possibly drug running or selling.” He told her about the conversation he'd overheard in the stables. “Whatever it is, I know Billy Carr is involved and a man named Larry that he was talking to. What I need to find out is exactly what is taking place here and who the boss is.”

“But why the need to pretend that you have brain damage?” April asked, trying to understand.

“Because all the ranch hands talk freely in front of me now. They think I'm too stupid to understand what they're saying. I've already learned that Jacob Sinclair regularly steals grain and Timothy Franklin skims off the top whenever he goes to town for supplies.”

“But stealing grain and skimming a little cash isn't the same as murder and attempted murder,” she protested. “Isn't this something you should take to the sheriff? Let him handle whatever might be going on?”

“No.” The succinct reply was followed by a deep sigh that for some reason resonated inside April. “This is something I have to do myself.” For the first time April saw something dark, almost haunting in his gaze. “The last thing Marietta said to me before she was killed was to trust nobody—not my family
and not the sheriff. She was adamant about it. I…I don't know who to trust.”

April's anger resurfaced inside her. She stood and walked several paces away from the sofa, then turned to face him once again. “Why are you telling me all this? Why did you feel the need to confess this secret to me?”

He grinned, the darkness she'd momentarily seen gone beneath the charm of his smile. “Because I figured if I was going to kiss you anymore, then we shouldn't have any secrets between us.”

“I'm being serious,” she replied curtly, angered further by his flippant reply.

He leaned forward and raked a hand through his thick, dark hair. His smile was gone as he studied her. “Because for some reason I knew I could trust you,” he said softly. “Because I haven't had a deep, meaningful conversation with anyone since I started this charade.” He shrugged. “Because I just wanted—needed you to know that I was okay.”

April became aware of a headache throbbing at her temples. “Okay, great. You've shared your secret with me. Now I think it's time for you to leave.”

His eyebrows quirked up with surprise. “You're angry.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she replied. “I don't know you well enough to be angry with you.” She sighed, her headache intensifying. “Mark, I'm sorry that somebody hurt you, but I'm not sure I agree with what you're doing, fooling everyone. Still, it's really none of my business.”

She opened the door, allowing in a wave of warm, evening air. “I don't want to know about murder and
deception. I'm a single mother just wanting to make a decent life for me and my son. Now, I think it best if we just say good-night.”

He stood and walked toward her, his expression unreadable. He stopped when he was close enough that she could smell his evocative scent, close enough that she could feel his body heat. “April…I'm sorry if I made a mistake in confiding in you. It wasn't my intention to add to whatever burdens you're carrying.”

His apology effectively banished the anger that had momentarily gripped her. “You don't have to worry about me telling anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

He smiled—that damnable smile that shot heat through her veins. “I wasn't worried. I told you a minute ago I knew I could trust you.” He stepped outside, then turned back to her. “Tell Brian his hamburgers were terrific and I'll see him tomorrow.”

She nodded, grateful when he turned and left. She immediately closed the door and went to the kitchen cabinet for some aspirin. She got a glass of water, swallowed two tablets, then sat at the table, her mind whirling with everything she had just learned.

No brain damage. The whole thing was nothing but a sham. Incredible. And yet, as she thought back over the times she'd spent with Mark, the clues had been there.

She rubbed her temples, wondering again about the Delaney family dynamics. Why would Mark choose to tell a virtual stranger his secret instead of sharing it with his family? Why would he take the suspicions of Marietta, a ranch worker, over his family?

She thought of that first kiss they had shared, a kiss that had thrilled her down to her toes. It had been the kiss of a man skilled at physical pleasure. Yet at the time she had felt slightly guilty, worrying that somehow she might take advantage of Mark and his condition.

A touch of anger reappeared. He'd taken advantage of her. He'd kissed her the first time and this evening under false pretenses, pretending to be something that he wasn't. She'd been drawn to him because she'd thought he was different—more innocent and pure. She now realized those attributes had been sleight of hand, tricks of the light. Lies.

She suddenly recognized that her anger wasn't really anger at all. Rather what she felt was disappointment. She was disappointed to realize that Mark was just another male who was exceptionally good at deception.

By the next morning her headache was blessedly gone, and she resolutely shoved all thoughts of Mark Delaney out of her mind.

She spent the morning at the table with the list of guests who would soon be arriving, working up the schedule of activities she needed to have approved by Matthew.

As she opened Marietta's thick file, she remembered what Mark had told her the night before—that Marietta had known something was going on at the ranch and she'd met with Mark to tell him what she knew.

Was it possible Marietta had written something down in the file April now possessed? There was an
impossible amount of paperwork in the two manila folders. April hadn't even begun to get through it all.

She stared at the file. Should she mention them to Mark? Maybe something in the files could help him solve the mystery.

She hesitated. Did she really want to get involved with any of this? After all, it certainly wasn't her place to help Mark figure out what was going on at the ranch. And yet, if it were something illegal, some activity that put them all at risk, wasn't it her civic responsibility to do what she could?

She shook her head ruefully at this thought. Civic responsibility, indeed. The truth of the matter was she couldn't get Mark out of her head, couldn't forget the deep torment she'd seen in his eyes. She wanted to help him. It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.

Making up her mind, she left the cottage and went in search of him.

She found Brian outside the stables, raking a portion of a corral with a wide rake. “Where's Mark?” she asked her son. He stopped his work for a moment and pointed toward the stable.

Entering the building, she was greeted with the sounds and smells of horses. Hooves pawed the ground, nostrils snorted the air, and soft whinnies greeted her as she passed each of the stalls.

She heard Mark before she saw him. His deep voice was soft and caressing. “It's all right, sweet girl. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Stepping toward a large work area, she spied him brushing a horse's mane. The horse was obviously nervous, sidestepping the touch of the comb.

April didn't speak for a moment, but instead simply watched. Today, instead of being clad in his usual blue jeans, he wore a pair of black denim jeans that made his legs look longer, leaner. Beneath his gray T-shirt, his bicep muscles bulged and danced as he worked to both maintain control of the horse and accomplish the combing.

“Mark,” she called softly, irritated that the very sight of him swept a whisper of heat through her.

He looked up from the horse, his lips curving with pleasure. “April. Are you looking for Brian? He's outside.”

“No,” she replied. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Just a minute. Let me put Muffin here away.” He led the horse to a nearby stall, his soothing, soft talk continuing as he settled the horse in the small enclosure.

April wondered if he would use that same soft, caressing voice when making love. Would he caress his lady with the same tenderness that he used on the animals?

As he approached where she stood, she shoved her disturbing thoughts away. She didn't intend to find out if Mark Delaney was a tender lover.

“So, what's up?” he asked, his gaze warm as it lingered on her face. “Have you decided to forgive me?”

“I told you last night that there's nothing to forgive. I wanted to talk to you because while I was doing a little work this morning, I had a sudden thought about Marietta.”

Mark glanced around, then took her by the arm and
pulled her toward a door. April realized he didn't want anyone to hear their conversation.

He opened the door and pulled her inside a tiny closet. Reaching above his head, he tugged on a chain that lit the dim lightbulb overhead.

April was instantly aware of their proximity, forced by the small enclosure. Her breasts were mere inches from his broad chest, and if she tilted her head slightly back, his lips would be within easy reach.

“Now, what did you want to tell me?” His voice was a low whisper, his breath smelling of mint as it fanned her face.

“I've been looking through Marietta's file that Matthew gave me, and it's obvious that she was an extensive note maker.” She stared at his chest as she spoke, not wanting to look up into his eyes. “The file is huge, and I've only managed to get through about an eighth of it. I was thinking maybe if Marietta had suspicions about something going on here at the ranch, she might have written something down in the file.”

“I've been through most of her file,” he replied.

“But your sister brought me another file. Have you seen it?”

He shook his head. “No, I haven't, but I'd like to.” With his forefinger beneath her chin, he tilted her head so their gazes met. “I know this is asking a lot, but could I come to your place and go through the second file? Maybe you could help me figure things out. Will you help me?”