Valentine's Day

He gazed at her for a moment, then shrugged, looking reasonably adorable in his faux bewilderment. “Texas,” he muttered, starting the car. “This place always surprises me.”

And that statement surprised her. She was about to mention that Mara had said he’d grown up outside of Galveston, but her power of speech got lost as she noticed again just how incredibly good-looking this man was. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. His suit had probably cost more than her secondhand car. His gorgeous black hair, his wonderful tanned skin, the way his thighs swelled against the fabric of his slacks, all created a picture guaranteed to set off the female heart rate. His shirt was open at the neck, revealing more tanned skin and just a hint of crispy, crinkly chest hair. If she were the swooning type, she’d be out cold by now.

But she wasn’t, she reminded herself sharply. Not her style at all. And there was another thing. All this embarrassment of hunky male riches didn’t add up somehow. Mara’s husband was basically a cutie, but to think that he had someone like this in his family boggled the mind.

But it was too late to say anything, anyway, because the low, slinky sports car had taken off like a rocket. As her body slammed back against the soft leather seat, she felt as though she had to hold on for dear life, her heart in her throat.

The car came to a stop at a light. She gulped in a mouthful of air and turned sharply toward him, letting him know she hadn’t loved it.

“Wow. Do you always drive like this?” she asked a bit testily, pushing her hair back with one hand. “If so, you must have a permanent seat named after you at traffic court.”

He seemed surprised by her strong voice and point of view, but laughed.

“I’m just trying this baby out. I picked her up at the showroom earlier today and I wanted to see what she can handle.” He grimaced. “But I don’t know the streets around here very well, so I think that will do it. Sorry. I should have warned you.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, feeling no chagrin at all over the pleasure that surge of power had given him. But his grin faded as he looked at her.

That crazy, curly hair kept falling down over her eye and he had the oddest impulse to reach out and brush it back for her. The thought made his fingers tingle. He found himself looking at where her tiny, shell-like ear was peeking out from among the curls, and then staring at the smooth, creamy skin of her neck and imagining his lips there and his tongue…

The car behind them honked and he realized the light had turned green. He turned his attention back to his driving. But his mind was on the woman next to him in the car. Something about her tickled his fancy in a strange and unfamiliar way.

And suddenly her name came back to him. Celinia Jade Kerry. How could he have forgotten a name like that? Celinia Jade. Rather a mouthful, wasn’t it?

“Mind if I call you C.J.?” he asked her a bit sardonically.

She blinked, truly puzzled. “Why would you do that?”

“For short. It’s easier to remember.”

She frowned, her nose wrinkling. “But…”

He turned the car onto the freeway and they were off again. Her words disappeared in the roar of the engine, and he had to merge with a tangle of speeding traffic, which didn’t leave him time to ask her to repeat them.

Funny, but now that he thought about it, his mother had told him Celinia Jade Kerry would fit right in with the type of woman he usually dated—the sort his mother, Paula Angeli, actually tended to roll her eyes at.

Not that she knew C.J. very well, but she did know the woman’s mother. Or had, years ago.

“Betty Jean Martin was her name before she married Neal Kerry, the man who stole my family’s ranch,” his mother had told him over morning cappuccino just days ago. They’d been sitting on the terrace of her Italian home, overlooking the Venice canals. “She was my best friend, but when she married Neal behind my back, she became my worst enemy.”

He’d nodded, having heard the story so often, it was a family legend. He had a sneaking suspicion that his mother had thought she was going to marry the man—before her friend Betty Jean had whisked him to the altar—and that in that way she would have been able to get her ranch back. All things considered, he couldn’t be too sorry that hadn’t happened at the time. Besides, his mother had met his father, Carlo Angeli, shortly after, and her life had changed for the better, at least monetarily. That often happened when one married a millionaire.

Still, Max knew the marriage hadn’t been a happy one. His father had rarely been around, and his affairs with the wives of his best friends were legendary. His mother’s life had been wrapped up in her two sons—and in bittersweet memories of a childhood on the Triple M Ranch outside of Dallas, Texas.

“I’m sure Celinia Jade will be just what you’re used to,” his mother went on, waving the letter that had come from the daughter of her old friend. “I still keep in touch with enough old Texans to know what’s going on. She’s a clotheshorse with nothing on her mind deeper than the latest hemlines and whether her newest shade of lip gloss makes her mouth more kissable. Sound familiar?”

“Have you been listening in on my phone conversations again?” he’d teased her.

And that was when she’d rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you get it, Mama?” he told her with loving humor. “I don’t date women for their conversation.”

“Then you’ll probably get along perfectly with the young Miss Kerry.” Paula had frowned, looking at the letter again. “It’s odd to hear from her after all these years. And to have her ask to come visit us.”

“And just lucky timing that I’m leaving for Dallas in a few days and can check out the situation.” He looked at her, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She’d been looking more frail lately. Ever since Gino had died. It broke his heart to see her this way.

“What do you suppose she wants?” he’d asked casually, though he was pretty sure he knew.

“Money.” His mother sighed, shaking her head of graying curls. “The word is she’s in deep financial trouble. Her parents are both gone now and she’s spent her way through what little they left her. She’s looking at you as one big old ATM machine, I have no doubt.”

“Interesting,” he’d murmured, a plan developing in his head. “You’re sure she still has the Triple M Ranch?”

“Oh, yes. She’ll never give that up. Who would?” She winced and he knew she was remembering that her own family had done exactly that—something she could never forgive. “But she probably needs funds to keep it running.”

“A loan?”

Paula laughed. “Hardly. She’d never be able to pay it back. My guess?” She smiled at her son. “She asks a lot of questions about you in her letter. I think she’ll try to get you to marry her.”

“Many have tried,” he noted dryly, only half joking.

“But no one has come close yet,” she agreed with a sigh.

He’d grunted noncommittally, thinking it over. “Call her,” he suggested. “Put her off about her coming here, but tell her I’ll be in town and would like to meet her. Set up a rendezvous.”

She nodded reluctantly. “What are you planning?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “Mama, you know property acquisition is my specialty. I plan to talk her into selling us that ranch you loved so much.”

Her eyes sparkled for just a moment, but she shook her head. “She’ll never do it.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, Max, do be careful. Don’t let her charm you. If she’s anything like her mother was…”

He’d dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he started for the door. “I’ll give her that old famous Texas sweet talkin’ you taught me all about when I was a whippersnapper. She’ll be begging to turn the ranch over to us in no time.”

Looking back at her as he reached the door, he could see a sad, faraway look in her eyes and knew she was thinking about Gino, his older brother who had died a few months before. That look on her face brought a catch to his throat. He would do anything to bring the joy back for her. Anything.

And that was the mission that had brought him to Dallas.

CHAPTER TWO

“SO, TELL me, C.J.,” Max said, looking sideways at Cari as they exited the freeway and turned into a dark, spooky-looking industrial area. A quick flash of lightning lit up the horizon, then disappeared as quickly as it came. The air was electric with possibilities. “How’s life out on the ranch these days?”

She eyed him and shook her head. His conversation was becoming more incomprehensible to her. Her little house could be called ranch-style, but she certainly wasn’t running any cattle in the yard.

“What ranch?”

The ranch your family stole from mine, he thought cynically, his mouth twisting. Are you going to pretend that never happened?

But aloud he said, “The ranch you live on, of course.”

She shook her head. What in the world had Mara told this man in order to get him to spend an evening with her? She knew her friend was subject to occasional flights of imagination, gilding the lily, so to speak, but this was ridiculous.

“I don’t live on a ranch,” she told him firmly. He might as well know the truth.

“Ah. I suppose you’re just a normal, everyday Texas girl.” His voice belied his words. His sarcasm was showing.

But she nodded vigorously, becoming exasperated. “Yes, I am.”

He chuckled. “What is it with you Texans? The popular myth is that you’re all such big talkers, but all the Texans I meet are always trying to pretend they’re just average folks, no matter how filthy rich they are or how much land they own.”

She was at a loss. Surely Mara hadn’t pretended she was from a wealthy family—a wealthy ranching family. Mara knew better.

“But we are mostly just average folks,” she said defensively.

“Hah. Se non è vero, è ben trovato.”

The things he was saying were odd enough, but even odder was the fact that she was beginning to detect what sounded like a faint Italian accent, and that last outburst seemed to seal the deal.

“You know something?” she said accusingly. “You don’t sound like a Texan.”

“Grazie,” he replied with a casual shrug. “I’m only half-Texan, after all. I hope you can forgive my mistakes.”

“Oh.” Half-Texan! And the other half was evidently Italian. How had Mara missed that tiny detail? She bit her lip, wondering if she’d offended him.

“So what did it mean, what you said a minute ago?”

He smiled at her. “I said it’s a good story, even if it isn’t true.”

Before she could express fresh outrage, his phone chimed. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

“It’s my mother,” he said, sounding surprised as he pulled over to the side of the road. “She’s calling from Venice.” He flipped his mobile open.

“Your mother?” Cari gaped at him. She’d heard Italian men were attached to their mothers, but this was ridiculous.

“Sì, Mama.”

He said something into the phone in what she assumed was Italian. It sounded like Italian. It even looked like Italian. Cari couldn’t catch anything she recognized, but she watched the whole thing, fascinated. There was a lot of near-shouting and gesticulating, and suddenly he pulled the phone away from his ear and said, “Would you like to speak to my mother?”

She gazed at him in horror. His mother? Why on earth would she want to speak to his mother? What would she say?

“Not really,” she said, shaking her head vehemently.

He said something else in Italian and clicked the phone shut. Turning, he eyed her narrowly.

“So the old resentments still live, do they?” he noted, his gaze pinning her to the back of the seat with its dark, stormy intensity.

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact that you wouldn’t speak to my mother.”

Oh, this was just too rich. She’d signed on for a few hours of hopefully friendly conversation with a strange man, meal included, and that was about it. There had been no extended-family privileges implied in the deal. Now she was getting annoyed. Really annoyed.

“What am I supposed to talk to your mother about?” she asked heatedly, then waved a hand in the air. “I suppose I could give her a critique of how her son handles blind dates. But I’d hate to be insulting at this early stage of the evening.”

He laughed, his gaze traveling over her face appreciatively. She glared at him.

“But listen,” he said, his grin changing to a thoughtful frown. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. She says someone called and left a message that I was late to meet you.” He shrugged, making a face and looking at her for confirmation. “I wasn’t late. I was early.”

She held his gaze. “You were late.”

His frown deepened. “So you were already calling people and complaining that I wasn’t there as early as you were?”

“I didn’t call anyone.” She couldn’t have called anyone. She had a sudden picture of her phone, attached to the battery charger, still sitting on her kitchen counter where she’d left it. Darn. That made her feel naked and unprotected. A girl needed a good phone, especially when she was on a crazy and confusing blind date like this one.

“Well, somebody knew about it and called my mother.”

Cari began to feel as though she were on a rapidly moving merry-go-round with oddly formed horses and scary faces leering at her out of the shadows. This entire date was becoming more and more surreal.

“Let me get this straight. Your mother’s in Italy. Why does she care about whether you were on time to meet me or not?”

He gave her a slow smile and a long look, one that made her feel strangely languorous. Funny, despite how annoyed she was, she had to admit this was one sexy man. Given a chance, he could turn on the charm and wipe away most of her irritation.

“Because she’s a caring person,” he said smoothly. “And she wants us to get along well. For old-time’s sake.”

As she puzzled that over, his phone rang again. Max saw that it was Tito and barked, “Go,” into the receiver.

“Where are you?”

“About a block away. I’ll be there in a minute.” He glanced at Cari. She seemed absorbed in the view outside her window. “Does Sheila know I’m coming?” he asked softly.

“Well, no.”

“Why haven’t you told her?”

“Well…”

“Have you filled her in on the parameters of the situation?”

“Actually, no.”

“Why not?”

“Listen, boss, like I told you, she’s not exactly here.”

“But you said…”

“The baby’s here.”

That struck him like a thunderbolt. The whole point of this operation had been to find the baby. Gino’s baby. Finding Sheila was secondary, but he hadn’t expected them to be separated.

“I’m almost there,” he said, signing off and dropping the mobile into the center bay. He turned to look at Cari. Why had he brought her along again? Hmm.

“Where are we going?” she asked, thinking maybe she should have established things like this before she’d agreed to go along with him.

“To take care of some…personal concerns.” He put the car in gear. He’d thought he was going to be confronting his brother’s ex-girlfriend, trying to get the truth out of her as to whether she’d had a baby with Gino. Now he knew she wasn’t there. But a baby was. What did that mean? He was going to assume the baby was Gino’s until someone proved different.

Turning to check for traffic, he pulled the car back into action.

“It should be right around this next corner. Ah, here it is.”

“This is it?” Cari gazed at the run-down apartment building and frowned. Loud music was coming from an upper bank of windows. A dog was rummaging in a pile of papers near the entryway. One of the streetlights was broken, casting a pall on the area. She thought she saw someone withdrawing into the shadows across the street. This was not a neighborhood she would have ventured into if she’d been doing the driving.

“I thought we were going to get something to eat,” she mentioned hopefully, thinking a nice bright restaurant on a busy street would be better than this gloomy place.

“We will.” Leaning forward, he looked up at the ugly building and frowned. “I just have a little business to take care of here. I’ll make it quick. Wait here.”

No way. Cari looked at the empty street and shivered. “Actually, I think I’d rather go where you’re going.”

“Your choice.” He shrugged. “Come along, then.”

As he got out of the car and looked at the neighborhood, he couldn’t really blame her. He didn’t know Dallas well, but he was pretty sure nice neighborhoods didn’t look like this. He couldn’t leave her on her own out here, no matter how well he locked up his fancy car.

On the other hand, he didn’t want her intimately involved in his family business. There was already too much family mixed into all this. Maybe it hadn’t been such a brilliant move to bring her along after all.

He gazed at her speculatively as she came to join him, noting again how her riotous hair spun a magical frame around her appealing face. The ruffles of her bodice shimmered, giving her movements a fluid look, and her short, filmy black skirt followed suit with a flirty tantalizing style. There wasn’t a hint of slick sophistication about her, just down-home, sexy woman. The sort of woman who made you think of crisp clean sheets on a big, wide bed. Was he allowed to think about her that way?

That made him laugh a little. What would his mother say?

Oh, Max, do be careful. Don’t let her charm you. If she’s anything like her mother was…

That was what she’d said, but he knew she didn’t really think he would do anything hasty. Oh, she was serious about getting the Triple M Ranch back, but what she really wanted was for him to charm C.J., bewitch her, work on her emotions and manipulate her into selling it back to his family.

He’d been confident. From what he’d heard of her, he’d assumed this daughter of his mother’s old rival would be just the sort of woman he was used to, beautiful and spoiled, born and bred to the flashy nightlife and the party scene where those with money tended to play. From what he’d seen so far, his read had been way off. Could he handle a woman like this? Was a little charm going to do the trick? Looking down into her clear, intelligent eyes, he had to admit this wasn’t going to be as easy as it had seemed from across the Atlantic.

And what would happen if he let her follow him into the apartment he was planning to visit? The last thing in the world he wanted was a witness to his pending interview with whatever he would find there. A cool gust of a breeze chased leaves from between the buildings and brought the smell of pending rain. She shivered and he glanced up the driveway, noting where Tito had parked his white rental sedan.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, giving her his most winning smile. “Things aren’t working out quite the way I’d thought they would. More complications have arisen than I expected. I’m going to have my assistant drive you back to the club. You can wait for me there. Tito will take good care of you.”

She flashed him a look and raised her chin. “Forget it. I’m not switching partners at this late date.”

His head went back as though she’d hit him. Was she implying…? That floored him. He came off as throwing his weight around sometimes, but he didn’t like being taken for a jerk. “No, wait, you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Listen,” she said frankly, tossing her hair. “I’m not accusing you of anything. But this has been one weird blind date so far. I like to keep my feet on the ground and my head out of the clouds. I think I’ll just stick with you until you take me home.”

“Ah. Better the devil you know, is that it?” He tried to act in his usual debonair fashion, but at the same time, he gazed at her uneasily. This was the woman he’d thought he was going to manipulate? Obviously, those plans were due for a rethink. But that would come later. Right now, he had other problems on his hands.

“This might not be pleasant,” he warned her. “I’m not sure what we’re facing here. So be prepared for anything.”

She shrugged, wondering if he had noticed how her fingers were trembling. She was nowhere near as sure of herself as she tried to sound. When she’d said this date was weird, she’d been soft-pedaling the circumstances. She’d been bowled over at first by his presence, his confidence, his obvious savoir faire, and she’d been intimidated. But that was then.

Now, with the calls from the mother and the visits to slum neighborhoods, she had a bad feeling about this whole situation. He might be Mara’s husband’s cousin, but he was not your usual Texas boy. She’d have to keep this man in her sights and stay on her toes.

“If there’s a problem, maybe I can help,” she suggested. “I don’t want to drag your assistant away when you need him most.” She managed a stilted smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t get in the way. But I’ll be in the background the whole time, ready to help if you need me. In the meantime, you won’t even know I’m there.”

His gaze was skeptical. “Right.” He grimaced, but decided to play this one by ear. He ran a hand through his thick hair and sighed.

“Okay. If you’re up for this, let’s go on in and see what Tito has gotten me into now.”

The building was dirty and smelled like day-old food. They found the apartment quickly enough. Max knocked and the door opened. A short, stocky man built like a fireplug greeted them nervously, nodding when Cari was introduced, his mind obviously on the business at hand and not on her.

“Let’s see it,” Max said, and Tito stood back to let them in.

Cari followed. She walked into the room totally unprepared for what she would find. The two men went quickly to the far end of the room, and at first she couldn’t see where they were headed. When she caught sight of the baby crib, she froze.

No! Not a baby. Oh please, not a baby. Her breath caught and panic fluttered in her chest. Memories of her own four-month-old baby, Michelle, flooded her senses, hitting her unexpectedly. She wasn’t prepared to deal with this. Cringing, she almost whimpered aloud.

It had been almost two years since the car accident that had taken the lives of her husband, Brian, and Michelle, their much-adored infant. Two years where she’d avoided every possibility of coming face-to-face with a real, live baby. She turned blindly, her impulse to rush out into the hallway and then away, as far away as she could get. Anything to escape the pain that seeing a baby like this represented.

Just as she hit the doorway, the baby began to cry. She stopped, unable to take another step. There were little gurgling sobs at first, then full-fledged piercing screams.

Turning, she looked back. A baby was crying. A baby needed comfort. Everything in her, every instinct, began to pull her back. Babies were tiny, helpless things with little waving arms and tiny kicking feet. They needed help. She was a woman, naturally equipped with the talent and emotions custom made for doing that. And yet…

She stood where she was, unable to take those steps that would bring her back to the baby’s crib, unable to take steps out the door. Closing her eyes, she tried to catch her breath and still the wild beating of her heart. The look, the feel, the smell of her own lost baby filled her head. And the pain was almost too intense to bear.

Max’s entire focus was on the baby. As he looked down at the dark-haired infant, his heart swelled with bittersweet anticipation. Was there a hint of Gino in that little face? Did the hands look like his brother’s? Was this child all that was left of his brother’s life? That was very possibly the situation. He would move heaven and earth to find out. And if it turned out to be the case, there was no way he would let this baby go.

“Boy or girl?” he asked the stalwart assistant standing beside him.

“Boy.”

He supposed he should have known. The gown, the blanket, everything was blue. Despite the cluttered, messy condition of the room, things inside the crib looked clean enough.