The Cowboy Wants a Baby

He nodded. “I remember you saying you were reaching the end of your last one.”

“Handsome and smart. What a combination.”

He blushed, which had been her intention, and she stood to give him a thank-you kiss on the cheek. But as she turned, her attention was diverted. Sebastian Cooper stood in the doorway, his face ashen and his eyes dark and terrible. She hadn’t seen him much since his wife had disappeared. He looked like he’d been chewed up and spit out.

She got Dylan’s attention and motioned toward the door. She heard a small gasp as he turned to see his best friend. Which meant Sebastian’s condition had worsened very recently.

Dylan rushed around the couch and reached Sebastian’s side at the same time Lily did.

“What is it?” Dylan’s hands formed fists, something he’d done his whole life when he was terribly scared.

“I’m sorry. I should have called.”

“What’s wrong? Is it Julie?”

Sebastian shook his head. “It’s not that. Or maybe it is, I don’t know. All I’m sure of is the San Antonio cops couldn’t find the River Walk without a guide. It’s been seven months—”

Lily winced at his obvious pain. It must be torture. Julie had vanished early in January, the apparent victim of a car-jacking. So far the police had no leads, and Dylan had only been able to do so much investigating without tipping his hand. He hadn’t wanted to push his services on Sebastian, but it had been impossible for him to sit by and do nothing. Julie and Sebastian meant too much to him.

When Lily had asked Dylan why he didn’t just insist on heading the case, he’d talked to her about friendship and loyalty and male pride. She hadn’t completely understood, but he remained adamant that before he could pull out all the stops, Sebastian needed to ask for his help.

It appeared he just had.

DYLAN GOT OUT the Johnnie Walker Black and poured Sebastian two fingers. The family had dispersed until dinner, so Dylan joined his friend at the kitchen table, handing him the glass. “Tell me what you know.” Dylan probably knew as much as Sebastian did about the case, but he had the feeling his friend needed to talk about it.

Sebastian’s hand shook as he held the amber liquid. “The only evidence they found was some blood on the back seat of the car. Julie’s blood.”

Dylan made sure he didn’t react at all to the bald words. At least not outwardly. Sebastian needed him to be strong now. But it was damn hard.

Julie and Sebastian meant more to him than anyone outside his family. Hell, he’d grown up with Sebastian, the two of them riding the rodeo circuit all through high school. They’d even gone to college together, and that’s when Julie had entered the picture. Beautiful Julie. Who had called him her white knight, but married Sebastian. Dylan couldn’t bear to think of her hurt, or worse.

“They traced the last few hours before her disappearance. She’d been to the bank—to the safe deposit box.”

“What did she do there?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Not much. Got some papers, I think. But someone must have seen her there. Assumed she’d gotten valuables.”

“And followed her.”

Sebastian knocked back his drink, shuddering as the scotch went down. “Followed her and took her.” He stared at Dylan, his eyes filled with more pain than any man should have. “The nights are the worst. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about what she’s going through.”

“We’ll find her, Sebastian. I swear on my life, we’ll find her.”

“I kept thinking the police would find her. That it had to be something simple, a misunderstanding, that she’d left because I’d said something thoughtless, but she would have called. She isn’t cruel. Dammit, I should have come to you first.”

“It’s good that the police are involved. But they have too many other cases. I swear to you, Sebastian, I’ll find her.”

Sebastian nodded. “I know.” He swallowed hard, then tried to smile. “Remember Christmas?”

“Of course.”

“She was so happy about the locket. So thrilled that I’d had the stones replaced.”

“It meant a lot to her.”

Sebastian leaned across the big oak dining table. “I keep thinking that’s what the bastard saw. That the necklace drew his attention. If I hadn’t given it to her—”

“Stop it. You didn’t do this. It’s not your fault.”

“How do you know?”

“I know this—when she gets back, she’s going to need you. If you rake yourself over the coals like this, you won’t be any good for her.”

He leaned back, nodding. “Right. I need to be strong for her.”

“Let the detective in charge know you’ve hired us. I’ll need to see their reports.”

“I will.”

Dylan nodded at the scotch bottle. “Need another?”

“Yeah. But I’m not going to. If I start drinking now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Right. So why don’t you kick back. Take a swim or something. We’re having dinner in a couple of hours.”

“I can’t, Dylan. I wish I could.”

“You don’t have to see anyone. I could arrange that.”

Sebastian stood. “I have to go. I’m grateful to you, buddy. And listen.” He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple too visible. He’d lost weight. “Whatever happens—”

“We’ll find her.”

Sebastian turned away. A lock of his hair fell over his eye. Julie would have pushed it back, then she would have kissed him. It was something she did without fail. She’d been a sucker for Sebastian since day one. Dylan was glad she’d found happiness. Now all he had to do was bring her back to the arms of the man she loved.

Failing wasn’t an option.

LILY RAISED her soda glass. “To us.”

The rest of the family joined her in the impromptu toast. “To us.”

They drank their assorted beverages and went on with the birthday dinner. Max and her father were already deep in discussion about the new paddock. Ashley, still in her tennis outfit, ate as if calories didn’t exist. Dylan hardly touched his food.

She knew Julie’s kidnapping weighed heavily on him—even more so now that he’d agreed to take the case. She wondered again if Dylan knew he was still in love with Julie. It had broken his heart when she married Sebastian, but good old Dylan hadn’t said a word. He’d just stood there as best man and watched his one true love marry his closest friend.

So much of what had happened to Dylan was connected to that moment. His decision to leave San Antonio and work for the Dallas P.D. His undercover work infiltrating J. B. Crowe’s mob family. The fateful error that had blown his cover.

Most people wouldn’t tie all those events together, but most people didn’t know Dylan the way she did. Sometimes—she wouldn’t swear on a bible or anything—but sometimes she felt absolutely sure that she could read his mind. And that he could read hers. More than that, she felt his pain. Not to the degree he felt it, but it was there. A dull ache that told her Dylan was in trouble. It didn’t seem to matter how far away he was, she always knew.

The ache was strong tonight. She wasn’t at all sure he should have taken the case. If he failed…

And even if he didn’t, the outcome was probably going to devastate him. The odds of Julie being alive after seven months were slim.

Dylan shoved some food around on his plate. She reached over and touched his hand. Startled, he looked at her.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“I do. Because you’re going to do everything possible. You’re the best man for the job and there’s not going to be one stone left unturned. If anyone on earth can find her, it’s you.”

He nodded slowly, unconvinced, she thought.

“Little brother.”

The appellation always made him smile. Eight minutes didn’t make him her “little” anything. But his smile failed to appear this time.

“Dylan, I know it’s hard, but for Dad’s sake, try. Eat something, just a little. Smile, even if you don’t mean it.”

He sighed. “I am pretty good at appearing to be something I’m not. And right now that means being in the mood to celebrate.”

“After dinner, why don’t we sit down and talk about what we know so far, and what’s next.”

He smiled, and damned if she didn’t believe the transformation. “Good idea, Lily.” He ate some steak, drank some iced tea, laughed at something Ashley said.

But the ache was still heavy in Lily’s chest. The ache that told her Dylan was dying inside.

CHAPTER TWO

LILY’S FIRST VIEW of Eve Bishop’s mansion came after almost a mile of winding road, flanked on each side with huge chinquapin oaks she’d give a pretty penny to see in the fall. The trees cast shimmering shadows on the road and her car in a windblown ballet.

The house itself was equally awe inspiring. Two-story Victorian, it was registered with the historic society as one of the original German mansions built in the late 1800s. As she drove closer, Lily could see the facade wasn’t quite up to snuff. It needed paint and the garden was overgrown. But then Eve was in her seventies, and Lily had grown increasingly alarmed over the woman’s frail health.

She’d met Eve while volunteering for the Texas Fund for Children, a large charitable organization that provided funding for a children’s hospital and rehabilitative center, staff for the two largest orphanages in the state and many other educational and health programs. The whole shebang had been started by Eve and her late husband, and Eve had worked hands-on to build the foundation for over twenty years.

Lily parked the car in the circular drive and stepped out into the brutal July sun. With a high in the hundreds and the air thick with humidity, it wasn’t a pleasant place to dawdle. But she did. She lingered in the garden for a moment, her mind’s eye seeing what the grounds were meant to be when tended properly.

At the massive front door, she hesitated once more. Eve had asked her to come by, but had been quite mysterious about her reasons. Lily hoped it wasn’t because she was ill. Aside from admiring Eve for her philanthropy, she liked the woman very much and considered her a real friend.

She rang the doorbell, hearing its echo inside, then waited. The house was so large, easily ten thousand square feet, that unless Eve had help, it was going to take her a while to get to the door. To Lily’s surprise it was opened almost immediately by a young woman with a welcoming smile.

“I’m Lily Garrett. Here to see Eve.”

“She’s expecting you,” the woman said as she pulled the door open further. She was in her twenties, Lily guessed, and of Hispanic heritage. Her dark hair had been pinned up, and she wore shorts and a T-shirt, completing the ensemble with bare feet.

“Please, come this way.” Her accent was slight, lilting. She led Lily through the broad foyer, her bare soles slapping the white marble floor, then stopped at a door just a few feet down the hallway. She knocked twice but didn’t wait for a response. Lily nodded her thanks as she stepped inside.

The room captivated her instantly. Very Victorian in style, decorated in different hues of pink and white, it was made perfect by the elegant tea cart holding a silver service. Eve sat on an overstuffed chair, her petite body dwarfed by the chair’s velvet wings.

“Lily. I’ve made tea.”

“I see. It looks wonderful.”

Eve patted the cushion of the love seat next to her chair. “Come. And tell me if you prefer milk or lemon.”

“Milk, I think.”

For the next few moments, Eve went through the slow ritual of afternoon tea, complete with tiny crustless watercress sandwiches, pink petits fours with icing that matched the color of the walls exactly, and little lumps of sugar doled out with silver tongs.

Lily took advantage of the lull to study the decor. Lush bouquets of fresh flowers were on the mantel and an end table. A white upright piano was the centerpiece of the far wall, and a brick fireplace flanked by bookshelves did the honors on the wall to her left. Antique dolls stared wide-eyed from various perches throughout the room, their bright curls adding a bit of life to the old-fashioned library.

Above the fireplace was a portrait, and Lily knew instantly that it was of Eve. She’d been much younger then, her now silver curls a deep coppery red. Her skin was smooth, her long neck arched and coy. The artist had captured her spirit, especially in her eyes. But the vivid blue in the picture had faded on the older woman.

Eve handed Lily a plate and a teacup, waited for her to take a sip, then sighed.

“What is it, Eve? Is something wrong?”

The old woman’s hand trembled as she put her cup on the tea cart. “Several things, in fact.”

“Is there something I can do?”

“I dearly hope so.”

Lily took another sip of tea, but she hardly tasted it, her curiosity was so great.

“The simple fact is that I’m dying.”

Lily nearly dropped her cup at the stark words. “Oh, no. Please, not that.”

Eve nodded. “I don’t mind very much. Honestly. I’ve had a rich and full life. My days now are mostly about pain, feeling it, treating it, ignoring it. My hands have become traitors and my eyes, well, maybe it’s not so terrible to see the world in shadow.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Sometimes. But nothing hurts as much as the heaviness in my heart. And that’s why I’ve called you.”

“How can I help?”

Eve leaned back in her chair as if the effort of sitting upright had become too much for her. “I have a grandson.”

“You’ve never mentioned him.”

“I haven’t. Because I haven’t seen him in five years. I haven’t spoken to him or heard about him. My son, his father, died four months ago. He had a heart attack. He hadn’t spoken to Cole in five years, either.”

“Why?”

“That’s not important,” she said, her brow furrowed with the effort of the conversation. “What is important is that I see my grandson before I die. I won’t be able to rest until I do. Can you understand?”

“Of course. You love him.”

“More than he’ll ever know.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

She shook her head slowly. “The last I heard, he was in Houston. But that probably isn’t where he is now.”

“Do you have any idea what he does?”

“No. Business, perhaps ranching. I don’t know.”

“I see.”

“You don’t. But you don’t have to. Lily, I trust you. I know you’ll bring him back. I’ll pay twice your normal fee if you’ll abandon all other cases to concentrate on this one.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do anything. But I’m a rich old woman whose shopping sprees are over.”

Lily had no intention of arguing with her. She’d send an appropriate bill when the job was done. If, in fact, it ended satisfactorily. “I’d like to take this job, Eve, but I have to make something clear. I won’t bring him back against his will. We reunite families that want to be reunited.”

“Fine. Then I’ll trust you to make him want to come home.”

“Fair enough. I’ll do my best.”

“I know that, Lily. That’s why I called you. I’ve done a little research of my own. I’m impressed with this new company of yours. But believe me when I say it was only because I’d met you and seen how you operate that I considered hiring you. Finding my grandson is the most important thing in my life. And that life, if one believes the doctors, will end in approximately six months.”

“Please don’t say that. Anything can happen. Miracles.”

Eve’s smile changed her face. The beauty of the portrait was still there despite the ravagement of years. “There are no miracles. Only things to regret. I don’t want to go that way, you see. I don’t want to die with this terrible regret.”

“I do understand, Eve. I do.”

Eve’s pale-blue gaze met Lily’s and held it steady. The determination there was like steel. “Find him. Do whatever you have to do to bring him home. He’s my only heir. He’ll inherit it all. Make sure he understands that.”

Lily nodded.

“Now drink your tea. It’s probably cold by now.”

MAX SANTANA yearned for a shower. A long, cold one. Riding out to the far pasture hadn’t bothered him, but hauling that big mother cow out of a muddy bog had worn him to the bone. It was the heat. Normally San Antonio was in the high eighties this time in July. But a heat wave had settled across the state, shooting the temperature and the humidity to record levels.

He loved everything about this place except the high heat. Days like this, he had to keep his mind occupied on cool things. Iced tea. Snow. A long swim in a chilly pool.

The only thing Max wanted more than a dip in the pool was a woman.

As he rounded the corner of the big house, he bumped into something soft and sweet. Lily.

“Hey, Max.”

“Sorry about that.”

She waved the small accident away.

Lily was a woman all right, but to him she was practically a sister. What he needed was a stranger with loose morals. Yes, indeed. But he’d think about that in the shower. “Dylan’s looking for you.”

“Pardon?”

“You know. Your brother. He’s looking for you.”

“I’ve been out.” She sounded distracted, her voice was softer than normal. And she hadn’t smiled once.

“What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer him.

“It’s not that son of a bitch Jason Gill, is it? ‘Cause I know where he lives and I’ve got vacation time coming.”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that.”

He folded his arms across his chest and frowned at her. He wanted to look down his nose at her, but with her being five foot nine and him six-one, his scowl wasn’t nearly as effective as it should have been. The more he studied her, the more he knew something was wrong. Lily had her hair up in some sort of tortoiseshell contraption, but a long strand had escaped captivity and hung down past the middle of her back. Lily didn’t miss things like that unless she was preoccupied or worried.

“Max, calm down. It’s a new case, that’s all.”

“What kind of case?”

“I need to find a missing heir.”

He grinned. “How much is at stake? I could sure use an inheritance.”

“You could, huh? And what would you do with your millions, Mr. Santana?”

“I’d buy the O’Neill place.”

She smiled, finally. “You are the most predictable man. So why don’t you tell me where my little brother is?”

“He’s in the office, and I’m going to tell him you called him that.”

“You do, and I’ll tell that O’Neill girl you’ve got the hots for her.” The O’Neill girl was about fifty, and ornery as hell.

“Lily, don’t threaten me. You know I can be vindictive as hell.”

She slugged him in the shoulder, and for a skinny girl like her, she made it hurt. “You don’t have a vindictive bone in your body. But you sure need a shower.” She waved her hand in front of her nose and made a face at him. “You smell like wet cow.”

He grunted, then headed off again. After his shower, he’d dive in the pool so fast he’d hardly feel the splash. Oh, yeah.

DYLAN WAS IN the makeshift office, actually a spare bedroom in the old part of the house. They’d moved in two desks and a filing cabinet, then loaded the place with electronic equipment: fax, computers, printers, phones, scanner, all of which would be transferred to the upstairs offices as soon as they were ready. For an interim space, the bedroom wasn’t bad. Just small.

Lily put her purse in her bottom drawer then waited while Dylan finished his phone call. From his tone, she gathered it was business, and as she shamelessly eavesdropped, she realized he was talking to Bill Richardson, one of the homicide detectives working on Julie Cooper’s case.

Searching for Cole Bishop was going to prevent her from assisting Dylan, but given the circumstances, it couldn’t be helped. With Eve so ill, there wasn’t a moment to waste. Besides, Dylan on his own was quite formidable, and she had no doubt that he’d do everything possible to find Julie. She just hoped he wouldn’t get hurt. Either physically or emotionally. So much was at stake.

“I’ll get back to you,” Dylan said as he acknowledged her with a nod. “And see what you can do about those files, huh?” He listened for another few moments, said his goodbye and hung up. His attention was focused on her now, but she could see the strain of the morning’s work on his face.

“How goes it?”

He shrugged. “Just trying to get up to speed. What was your meeting about?”

“I’ve got a case.”

“Now?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I know how important it is to concentrate on finding Julie, but this is something of an emergency.” She explained about Eve’s request, and about the ticking clock. Dylan had met Eve on several occasions and his concern for her was immediate.

“Okay, I can do this on my own, but I think we need to get an assistant now instead of waiting for the offices to be finished.”

“I agree. Any suggestions?”

He shook his head. “I’ll make some calls in the morning.”

Lily turned on her computer, ready to start the search for Cole Bishop. She heard Dylan curse softly, and when she looked up, he was staring at his notepad, his face a mask of frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Things aren’t adding up right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing concrete. It’s more gut feeling than anything else. Something’s eating at me.”

“Well, then, you’d better pay attention. I don’t know anyone who has better gut instincts than you.”

He gave her a sardonic grin. “Not always.”

She hadn’t meant for the conversation to go there. Dylan had been on an undercover assignment in Dallas the previous year. His gut instincts had taken him into the very heart of J. B. Crowe’s mob family, but last October, he’d made one mistake—and that was all it took in his line of work. His cover had been blown, and he barely made it out of there alive. “Come on, Dylan. Did we or didn’t we agree not to wallow in the past?”

“We agreed. But as I recall, it was after you ate an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s as you rehashed some memories I’m too much of a gentleman to bring up.”

“Subtle. Like a sledgehammer.”

“All I’m saying is the things we went through are a part of us. I don’t think we can forget about them.”

“But we don’t have to beat ourselves up over and over, do we? Frankly, I don’t want to live like that.”

He leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his neck. “So why don’t you find someone new? Someone who isn’t married?”

“Date? Me? No. No way.”

“Why not? You planning on becoming a nun?”

“Knock it off. Of course not. But I’m certainly not going to get myself involved this soon after— I mean, anything I would do now would be a rebound thing, right? I don’t trust rebound things.”

“Yeah, I suppose. But that doesn’t mean you can’t go out. There’s such a thing as dating for fun.”

“Which you would know about how?”

“Point taken.”

“I think, for us, for now, we need to focus on the agency. In a year or so, we can rethink things, but now? Let’s just be detectives.”

“Right. Good answer.”

She sighed. “So quit bugging me. I have work to do.”

He didn’t say anything, but about two minutes later, a rubber band hit her in the shoulder. Being so much older and more mature than Dylan, she let it pass.

WHEN LILY LEFT the office, it was almost eight. Dylan was hungry—he hadn’t eaten since noon—but the idea of joining the family for dinner didn’t sit well. He didn’t want to make small talk, and he certainly didn’t want to discuss his progress on the case.

Progress. As if he’d made any. The police were cooperating, to a degree, but that was only because he’d been part of the brotherhood. The evidence was sketchy as hell. Would car-jackers be sophisticated enough to wear gloves? Why else would there be no fingerprints in the car? Did they simply hold a gun to her head and force her out? Then why was there blood on the back seat?