The Detective’s Undoing

Chapter 6

The first guests arrived on Thursday. Two couples and a group of four friends. Eight in all, a manageable number, Delia told herself. They would be a success.

They had to be.

Everyone arrived within an hour of one another, giving the three sisters a run for their money.

Maddie’s eyes were bright and excited as she rubbed her hands in glee, having caught Delia in the kitchen, where they shared a quick celebratory soda.

“Dinner is going to be spectacular,” Maddie whispered joyfully, passing the drink to Delia. “Eight of them, with us it’ll be thirteen! It’s like a real restaurant!”

Bless Maddie, whose greatest thrill in life was cooking for a captive audience. But she was a terrific cook, a talent that had been long wasted in Los Angeles, where she had never been willing or able to play the political game required to work at any of the “in” restaurants.

But now, for the first time in her life, Maddie was in her true element, and Delia was so happy for her she couldn’t resist hugging her.

“I can’t believe you’re getting this excited,” Delia said with a laugh as they twirled around the kitchen. “Have you pictured the dishes? The mess? The demands on your time?”

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Maddie’s usually serious face split in a wide grin, making her look sixteen, instead of twenty-six.

Delia couldn’t hold back another laugh. “We’re crazy, you know. All of us.”

“Certifiable,” Maddie agreed. “And I can’t tell you how good that smile looks on your face.”

“A full house will do that to me. I’m imagining our happy bank balance.”

“Are you?” Maddie’s look was long and knowing. “Because I thought maybe Cade had put that look there.”

Delia, who’d just taken a sip from the can of soda, choked. Coughing and sputtering, she glared at Maddie.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maddie said innocently. “I forgot how you react whenever you hear his name.”

“Whose name?” Zoe asked as she entered the kitchen, looking tired but happy. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Maddie said. “Other than that Delia seems to have a problem drinking and hearing Cade’s name. Or breathing and hearing Cade’s name. Or just existing and hearing-”

“You know, until a second ago, you were my favorite sister,” Delia said to Maddie.

“Hey, I thought I was your favorite sister.” Zoe feigned a sulk. “You said so last week when I took over the cleaning of- Wait a minute. Cade?” Her eyes narrowed speculatively as she studied Delia with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “You mean to tell me you have a thing for Cade?”

“Say it again and you’ll be scrubbing the floor with that mouth, instead of kissing Ty with it.”

“You know, you can take the girl out of the city,” Zoe said, grinning broadly, “but you sure as hell can’t take the city out of the girl. You got a thing for that hot-looking investigator of ours? Really?”

“You’re getting married,” Delia said through her teeth. “I doubt Ty would appreciate your thinking Cade is hot.”

“He’s really something, isn’t he?” the usually man shy Maddie interjected. “And my, oh my, can he fill out a pair of jeans.”

Zoe hooted at this, practically rolling on the floor with mirth. Delia stood still and waited for the moment to pass. “Since I’m the only one with a brain left, I’ll go make sure our guests are all comfortable.” She sent her sisters a look of disgust. “You two stay here and giggle like idiots.”

“You really have a thing for Cade,” Zoe repeated with marvel. “Oh, just wait until Ty-”

Delia made a grab for Zoe, but experienced with her two hot-tempered sisters, Maddie quickly stepped between them, her eyes still laughing. “Hey. No brawling. I think we should charge extra if you’re going to give the clients a show.”

“Fine,” Delia said, throwing up her hands. “But tell her to be quiet. I don’t want to hear-”

“Does Cade know you think he’s hot?”

“-that name,” Delia ground out.

“Cade, Cade, Cade,” Zoe sang, sticking her tongue out at Delia.

“Behave, Zoe,” Maddie said mildly. “We can’t afford to have Delia kill you. We have too much to do.”

“Okay.” But Zoe was still grinning as she lifted the soda from Delia’s hands and took a good long swallow. “But can I tease her later?”

“At your peril,” Maddie said, and Delia sighed.

“Can’t we talk about something else, anything else?”

“Oh, all right, fine,” Zoe said with her own sigh. “Don’t admit you have a healthy lust for an absolutely gorgeous man. Deprive yourself-see if I care.” She turned to Maddie. “Do you need any help with dinner? You’re going to have your hands full.”

At the mention of dinner, Maddie’s entire face lit up. “No, of course not. Actually, I almost feel guilty these people are paying us, since I’d do this for free.”

“Well, let’s be thankful you don’t have to.” Delia grabbed her soda back from Zoe and finished it off. Just insisting she didn’t find Cade attractive had her mouth dry as cotton. “I’m off to make sure everyone’s settled.” She sent Zoe a withering look. “And if you have so much time on your hands, you can come help me.”

Zoe smiled. “Sure, no problem.” The minute Delia turned her back to walk down the hall, Zoe whispered the name that sent shivers up her spine. “Cade.”

Delia stopped short and drew in a careful breath. “You’re cruising.”

Zoe laughed uproariously, then slipped an arm around Delia’s waist. “You’re so easy, Dee.”

“You’re going to tell Ty, aren’t you,” she said with dread.

“Oh, yeah.”

“And he’ll tell… God, this is bad. How much to keep your trap shut?”

“Such sisterly affection.” Zoe tsked, then grinned. “Take my chores tonight so I can be alone with Ty.”

“You mean-” Delia tried not to grimace “-take care of the animals?”

“Uh-huh.”

Both of them knew Delia had never been an animal lover. When they were in Los Angeles, it had never mattered, but out here, where they were now responsible for many animals every day, it’d been quite an adjustment.

Now, thanks to her own stupidity, she’d have to feed and water all of them, on her own, and she knew damn well there were huge spiders lurking everywhere in that barn. While she would have liked to grimace, it would show her fear, which Delia hated to do. “I’m truly going to kick your butt, Zoe,” she said, instead.

“Tomorrow. I’m busy tonight.” Her sister lifted her brows suggestively.

“And you’ll keep your mouth shut, right?”

“Right.” She grinned at Delia. “I love you, you know.”

“I’m still going to kick your butt.”

Zoe sighed fondly. “You love me, too.”

They survived their first day. It had taken them a while to get into their stride, but they’d done it. To settle herself down after supper, Delia worked on Zoe’s wedding dress for a time, enjoying the physical work and mental freedom as she stitched the fine lace and ivory silk dress from the pattern she’d created.

Eventually she had to set it aside because she had to do Zoe’s chores, which made her shudder in distaste. She entered the barn, prepared to hate the duty, even though secretly she was glad for the opportunity to help Zoe, who worked far too hard.

Delia worked hard, too, but her work was different, and while she wanted-needed-to do her fair share, she’d always felt her contribution to the ranch was negligible.

Guilt gnawed at her, it always did, because she’d have given anything to be needed here.

Thinking about being needed led her to worrying about Jacob and custody, which of course led her to think about the Triple M and its hopeful success, which led her to thinking about her future.

And that, for some ridiculous reason, brought her full circle to Cade. It was ridiculous because he had no intention of ever being part of anyone’s future, much less hers.

Delia sighed and turned on the lights. Just as she imagined, a huge black spider scurried from its resting place on the lightswitch and she nearly fell in her haste to back up. Shuddering, she wiped her fingers on her jeans, even though she hadn’t touched it. “Yuck,” she muttered. “There aren’t spiders that gross in the city, that’s for certain.”

Maybe not, but at least here, she had a shot of owning something for the first time in her life.

It was thrilling. Yes, each of the three sisters had wanted to be heir. It would give the deserted foster children they’d once been a heritage. A name. But it had nothing to do with greed, for no matter which of them inherited, the three of them would share equally.

Equally.

However, that wouldn’t get her Jacob.

Delia hated her lack of security; she always had. It had nothing to do with money. No, that would make her little better than her own mother had been.

It definitely had nothing to do with money.

And everything to do with worth. Self-worth. Confidence. Two things she could pretend to have fairly well but had never sincerely experienced.

And speaking of confidence… Nervously she moved from the barn door and stared at the double row of horses. “At least Zoe and Ty put you all up for the night,” she said, and several curious heads peered over the stall doors.

The one closest to her nickered softly, and Delia nearly parted company with her skin. “Okay, I can do this,” she whispered. “Hey…you guys hungry?”

Another nicker, this one not so soft and from the big guy at the end of the line. “No problem,” she said, mostly to herself. She even added a smile as she cautiously moved to where the supplies were. “Just between you and me,” she said conversationally, “Zoe is dead meat.”

She had all the horses watching her now, some more vocal than others. “You guys are a great audience.” Gaining a bit more confidence, she looked into Betsy’s eyes, the mare she’d ridden. “Give me a clue here, could you? Zoe’s told me a million times how much feed to give you, not that I listened.”

Betsy tossed her head.

“Hey, I’m trying.” She pulled on a pair of leather gloves, because having to do chores didn’t mean she had to ruin her manicure. Then, because it was there, she added a full-chested leather apron. “No sense in ruining perfectly perfect clothes,” she told Betsy. “Handmade, you know.” She pointed to her black linen trousers and soft angora sweater. With a resigned sigh, she hefted a pitchfork. “Wow, this sucker’s heavy. I’m going to have to rethink kicking Zoe’s butt if she can do this twice a day.”

The big horse at the end of the row snorted, and Delia looked at him. “You got something to say?”

He just stared at her, and she could have sworn his eyes were laughing at her. Laughing.

Like Cade’s.

“Men,” she muttered. “You’re all alike. You all think you can bat those long lashes and we’ll melt at your feet.” If she realized she was talking about Cade’s eyes, it didn’t matter, no one could hear her. “And please, don’t get me started on the smile thing. I swear, you all think a simple smile will leave us boneless and panting.”

“We can hope.” It was Cade’s voice that had her boneless now. “And there’s a frown that will scare away guests.”

Jerked out of her thoughts, her heart ricocheting madly off her ribs, Delia slowly turned around and managed to look cool. “You have a thing for sneaking up on me. Stop it.” She ran a hand down the apron, ostensibly to smooth it, but she was really pressing her hand to her racing heart to keep it from galloping away. “And for the record, I never frown.”

“Of course not. It’d give you wrinkles.”

“Bite your tongue.” She lifted her chin, and though she felt oddly weak when she wanted to be strong, she leaned on the pitchfork and studied him.

It wasn’t a hardship. He was definitely a sight that would have made a weaker female than she sigh with longing. His long lean legs were lovingly encased in soft worn denim. He wore a flannel shirt, unbuttoned over a T-shirt. Plain clothes, but they somehow took on a life of their own when stretched over his big tough body. He looked rugged…and sinful.

And the way her body tightened, almost as if in anticipation, really annoyed her.

Since when had she lost control of herself when it came to this man? “What do you want?”

Cade pondered the question as if she seriously wanted an answer. What did he want? Lots of things, most of which would probably send her screaming from the barn if she knew.

He wanted her to drop her guard around him.

He wanted to haul her close.

He wanted to be far away so that he could stop thinking about her night and day.

But mostly he wanted…her. He wanted Delia Scanlon, the woman.

Telling her that would only give her the ammunition she needed to further retreat and hide from him. “Do you always talk to the animals?” he asked. “Or is it a full moon?”

“Were you eavesdropping on me?”

“No.”

Relief flickered across her features until he spoke again. “Does my smile leave you as boneless as my horse’s?”

Now those eyes that so fascinated him flashed with anger and a good amount of embarrassment. “You were eavesdropping on me. How dare you?”

He’d dare anything for her. He was certain she had no idea how sexy she looked with the gloves too large for her hands, the leather apron dwarfing her lovely body, her eyes filled with confusion. She had no idea what she was doing out here, but heaven forbid she admit that, or admit she needed his help. She was adorable. Irresistible. Dammit.

“I came right through the open door, Delia.” He gestured and she tossed an angry glare over her shoulder to see for herself.

Indeed the door was wide open, revealing the dark night and starlit sky. It was a sight that never failed to stab directly into his heart, because when he was here, on this mountain out in the middle of nowhere, he felt safe. He felt as though he were home. He felt warm and fuzzy, even happy.

Not that he wanted to feel safe. Or at home. He sure as hell didn’t want to feel warm and fuzzy. These were emotions and feelings he didn’t allow himself.

“Just so you don’t stroke that ego any more than necessary,” Delia said. “It wasn’t your smile I was talking about.”

Good. That was good. It would help during those dark hours of the night when he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but think about how she felt in his arms. “I’ll remember that,” he said, moving farther into the barn.

Her eyes widened slightly at his proximity, the only sign she gave that he did indeed affect her every bit as much as she affected him.

And as much as he might like to explore the physical aspect of that, he couldn’t. Delia was different. He couldn’t imagine her taking any part of a relationship lightly, especially sex. No, she wouldn’t give herself without love, and since he didn’t do love, not anymore, they were destined to do this strange emotional two-step around each other.

Maybe it was to be his own personal penance for what he’d lost, but he would have thought just being alive when his wife and son were not was enough. Whatever it was, it was his hell, not hers, and he needed to remember that.

As if that would help keep his hands and mind off her.

“And I can resist you,” she said coolly as she took a step back, dropping the pitchfork she obviously had no idea how to use. “Just in case you were wondering.”

He came closer because he had to. “Because we aren’t suited.”

“Exactly,” she said, taking another step back.

Which he, of course, ignored as he came closer still. She smelled like heaven-sweet yet unbearably sexy. “And again, why is it we’re not suited?”

“Because you’re…you’re, you know. Wild. Rowdy. Uncontrollable.”

She said the last as if it was an unforgivable sin.

“Ah, that’s it,” he said. “Misbehaving, rough, ungroomed Cade McKnight. Dangerous. Edgy. Unsuitable. Right?”

A flicker of regret crossed her face. “I can’t be telling you anything you don’t know.” She was right. He did know.

So why was he pushing her?

“Why are you here?” she asked again, watching him with that slight vulnerability through her cool veneer, one that never failed to tug directly on the heart he wanted to be dead.

“I have something on the inheritance case,” he said, cursing himself for forgetting, even for one moment, how important this would be to her.

“What?” She took a step toward him and grabbed his shirt in her fists. “Tell me! What did you find?”

Her eyes were wide. Eager. And his heart ached again. “I finally got my hands on a copy of your mother’s death certificate. There’s an address listed.”

“Okay.” She processed this, then, still holding on to him, gave him a little shake. “What else?”

“I was able to locate the owner of the property, who told me an old friend of your mother’s still lives in the building. Dottie Owens. I’m going to go see her-maybe she’ll know something about your father.”

“In Los Angeles?”

Her fierce determination made him wary. So did the death grip she had on his shirt, which also involved a few chest hairs. “Yes.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Delia-”

“Don’t even try to stop me.”

He remembered when he’d accompanied her on her trip to see Jacob, remembered how, in spite of her anger, she’d appreciated the company, whether she admitted it or not.

Somehow, in reverse, he didn’t think he would appreciate her company, not when everything about her-her hope, her warmth, her independence, her strength-was packaged into one beautiful willowy desirable woman who drew him as no other had in far too long. “No,” he said hoarsely.

“Yes.”

So much for getting away from her.