The Detective's Undoing

Delia haunted him.

She was staring down at her cleaning supplies as if they held the greatest interest.

Cade knew his instincts were razor sharp. They’d saved his life more times than he could count, and they were screaming now. “Ownership of this place would be incredible,” he said carefully, seemingly out of the blue, but he’d had a hunch.

She flinched before she could control it, confirming his guess.

Bingo. “You know I’m doing my damnedest to get proof of that ownership,” he said softly. “Whether it turns out to be you or Maddie.”

“I know.”

He tried a different tack. “Your father—tell me about him.”

“I have an idea.” She’d risen and now grabbed her broom and started sweeping. “Let’s talk about you, instead,” she said.

“Me? Why?”

“Because you’re one big mystery.”

“My past isn’t relevant to this case.”

“And therefore doesn’t need to be discussed?”

“Exactly. Now tell me about your father.”

“You’re a hard man, Cade McKnight.”

“From you, Delia, I take that as a compliment.” He was surprised when she smiled. “Your father?” he repeated patiently.

“You mean, could he have been Ethan Freeman?” She’d given up trying to get information out of him, whether because it wasn’t important to her, or because she knew he wasn’t about to indulge her curiosity, he had no clue.

“We’ve already discussed this,” she said, leaning on her broom. “All I ever knew was what my mother told me when I was five, just before she took me to the foster home.”

And had left her there, without a word. What kind of mother, Cade wondered, would just dump her child like that? He came from a large loving family of six. His mother would no more give up a child than her own right arm. And even when Cade had walked away from that family, his heart destroyed, she’d never turned her back on him, instead, had badgered and badgered until he’d come back to the fold.

Delia set aside the broom and lifted one of the three windows. Immediately a cool breeze hit them. Delia’s sweater plastered itself to her lush form. Cade tried not to look, he really did, but she was so beautiful.

And remote.

“She said he was an undercover cop on assignment,” Delia continued in that low husky voice, the one that screamed sex.

Or maybe it was just his own mind that screamed sex. “Undercover cop,” he repeated, shaking his head to clear it.

“Top-secret assignment. I don’t think she even told him I existed.”

Cade had taken on some heartbreaking cases before, not to mention his own unspeakable heartbreak. He prided himself on his ability to harden himself, separate himself from any pain, his own or his clients.

But he didn’t seem to be able to do that with Delia, and it disturbed him that he felt her anguish as his own. In fact, it multiplied his own. “We know Ethan Freeman disappeared about that time.”

“Just as we know it’s unlikely he became a cop,” she countered. “So unless you’ve missed something or made a mistake…”

It was possible. God knew, he’d certainly made plenty of mistakes in his life. His biggest had cost the lives of the two people he’d cared about most.

Delia stared sightlessly out the window, showing more emotion in just her weary stance than Cade had ever seen her show.

“The three of you are sharing the ranch no matter who inherits,” he said.

“Yes, we knew we would do that before we even got here.”

“Then why does it matter which of the three of you actually owns the Triple M?”

It took her a second longer than usual, but her eyes shuttered and she drew herself up. “You couldn’t possibly understand, not with your life-style.”

Since she knew nothing about his life-style or why he led it, that shouldn’t have hurt.

“And, anyway, it matters,” she whispered.

Cade knew how close she and her sisters were, knew that they had clung together out of a need for more than mere survival during their childhood years. They’d been mother, father, sibling and best friend to one another. They’d been one another’s sole support. Out of that had grown a deep abiding love that was stronger than in most blood-related families.

Despite himself, despite how many years it had been, something deep and frozen in Cade cracked. Thawed. He’d had a family once.

A wife and a beautiful son.

But Lisa and Tommy were dead, had been for eight long years now.

As a result, he lived for his cases, as wide and diversified as he could get them and as scattered across the globe as possible. It helped bury his pain, the all-consuming pain that was too great to think about. Actually, it was far easier not to think at all, instead, taking on case after case, working himself half to death, pushing himself to the very limit and then beyond, so he could fall into bed at night so exhausted he couldn’t even dream. Traveling was a way of life for him, the only way, because if he stayed in one spot too long he lost himself.

It was that simple.

He’d been on this case too long, and the wanderlust part of him was raging to run far and never look back at this place, which was beginning to feel too much like a home.

Damn. Not that. Not ever again did he want a home, a warm safe place that could only, in the end, hurt him. Soon enough he’d solve this case and be on his way, he promised himself. And until then, he’d be an idiot to encourage any more ties than absolutely necessary.

But Delia blew out a harsh breath. “I need to be heir to get Jacob.”

Don’t ask. Just back off, McKnight. “Jacob is your brother,” he said, instead. “I’m betting the court rules in your favor.”

“The court is going to snub its nose at me.” Her voice was clear enough, but her hands shook when she again reached for the broom.

And despite all his talk about no ties and distance, he moved closer. “What are you talking about? Of course they won’t.”

“I’m financially insolvent, I’m a thousand miles away from Jacob’s home, and I’m single. I’m not exactly parenting material.”

He thought that was pretty much crap and said so.

Her lips tightened, but it was as if the veil of control lifted for that one second, and he suddenly saw the truth.

She didn’t believe herself worthy.

Distance. Lord, he sorely needed it, but there was none coming, not when she was standing there pretending to be so strong and fierce when inside she was incredibly vulnerable, so much so that he ached to hold her. “Delia…you’ll get him.”

She just shrugged.

He was leaving Idaho soon. Wanted to be leaving. Couldn’t wait to be leaving.

So why, then, did his heart contract just from looking at her struggling with pride, rigid with the effort to be strong for everyone?

Who was strong for her?

“You’re leaving for Los Angeles in a few days,” he said slowly. “To meet Jacob.”

“Yes.”

“I have a case there. I could come with you, try to help—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll do this alone.”

He watched her gather her supplies, watched her move away from him, and with everything he had, he wanted to let it go. Wanted to let her go.

“Hell,” he muttered, knowing he couldn’t let her go alone. Knowing also that it was far more than mere friendly concern.

Chapter 3

Delia got on the plane, found her window seat, then buckled in and straightened her skirt to avoid wrinkles.

First impressions were everything, and she intended to make a good one on Scott Felton, Jacob’s social worker. He’d known Jacob for six years, ever since Jacob’s father had died. He was close to Jacob, perhaps closer than anyone at this point, and his approval or nonapproval could make or break her case.

“Excuse me, dear.” An elderly woman stood in the aisle, wearing eye-popping chartreuse sweats, high-top tennis shoes and a ski cap.

Delia willed her to keep moving—not that she had anything against old women, but this one looked like a talker and it was a long flight.

“Sadie,” the woman informed Delia, as if she’d asked for her name. “Sadie Walkins. Howdy.” Her arms were completely loaded and she proceeded to stuff the overhead bin with two large shopping bags. Then she plopped into the middle seat, directly next to Delia, and smiled.

“Whew, those things are darned heavy. It’s no wonder they wanted me to check them. I refused, though, because I like to keep my stuff with me, don’t you? Though I have to say, I don’t think they’re too happy with me about now.” Pushing at the glasses slipping down her nose, the woman shifted around, bumping Delia’s arms and legs until at last she was apparently comfortable. “Oh, aren’t you lovely?” she said to Delia, staring at her.

“Thank you,” Delia murmured. She didn’t have to glance in a mirror or notice the looks she’d been getting from the male passengers to know she looked good. The woman who’d taken her ticket had complimented her on her outfit, and Delia knew she’d have been shocked to know it was handmade. Nearly every stitch of clothing Delia owned had been made with her own hands. It was a throwback to the years she and her sisters had gone without enough money for anything as frivolous as clothes, but somewhere along the line she’d learned to love the freedom of designing and sewing her own stuff, anyway.

Yet it wasn’t the woman next to her she wanted to impress, but the man who was standing in the way of her future with Jacob.

Maybe she should have worn a suit. A power suit, her great little red one…

God, she hated this all-encompassing fear of not being good enough, because that was exactly what this silly obsessing about her clothes came down to—her inadequacy and the certainty that Scott would see it.

“I’m going to visit my grandkids,” Sadie offered next. “Though why anyone would want to live in Los Angeles is beyond me.”

Delia loved Los Angeles, so she didn’t respond and just stared out the window. Jacob lived there. He was a city boy, too, how would he feel about the Triple M?

Idaho and its distinct majestic landscape stared back at her, silent.

“It’s so…dirty,” Sadie said. “Filth.”

All Delia had ever known was the hustling, bustling, teeming, crowded, glorious Los Angeles. She hadn’t been back since they’d left early last summer, and she wondered if it was as wonderful as she remembered. The people, the sights, the smells…yeah, it would be the same.

But was she?

Sighing, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

“Excuse me,” came a deep male voice. “Can I get you anything?”

What? They hadn’t even taken off yet, and it wasn’t as if she sat in first class—

Wait. She knew that voice.

Opening her eyes she looked over Sadie’s head and into the grinning gaze of Cade McKnight. “You,” she said.

He winked. “Me.”

He stood there as if he didn’t have a care in the world, looking annoyingly good, smiling easily and effortlessly, altering her pulse. He wore khaki pants and a soft-looking white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His dark hair fell to that collar in reckless waves that Delia imagined a less-disciplined woman would have a hard time keeping her fingers off.

Good thing she was especially disciplined. Still, from deep inside her came a strong tingling, which she ruthlessly told herself must be hunger because she’d skipped breakfast again. It had nothing, absolutely nothing, do to with the tall rangy wanderlust-driven man standing there. “Go home, Cade.”

“Ah, but you assume I’m here for you.”

That actually made her blush, because of course, he was right. She had a feeling Cade was always right. “You’re flying to Los Angeles for your business?”

“Yes.”

So what, then, was that undeniable intensity beneath his casual charm? An intensity aimed at her. “Go home, Cade. Wherever that may be.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Of course you can. You just turn around and—”

“Is this your fiancé?” the older woman asked Delia, watching with delight as the too-big Cade tried to squeeze himself against the seat to let others by, his broad shoulders hunched, one long leg bent at an awkward position. He apologized to each and every person forced to pass him, but he didn’t budge.

“Oh, how sweet and polite he is,” Sadie said. “And so handsome. What a catch, my dear.”

Some catch. The man might be a full-time private investigator, but he suffered from the strongest sense of restlessness she’d ever seen. He globe-hopped from case to case and loved it, which Delia, to whom roots and home meant everything, couldn’t imagine. Zoe said he was gorgeous enough for a woman to forget such inconveniences, but gorgeous didn’t count for much in Delia’s book. “He’s not my—”

“Men are so much handsomer now than in my day,” Sadie announced, adjusting her ski cap.

From overhead came the drone of the stewardess’s voice, reminding them this was a full plane. Everyone was asked to please take their seats.

With an obedience that made Delia narrow her eyes—she had a feeling he never followed the rules unless they suited him—Cade slipped into the still-empty aisle seat, and smiled with innocent charm at Sadie.

“Hello,” she said, smiling back. “I’m going to visit my grandkids in Los Angeles. It’s a terrible town, but what is one to do?”

“Families. Can’t do much with them, can you?” he asked gently, and she beamed.

“I’ve told my kids to move, but do they listen to me? No.”

“That’s a shame.” Cade shook his head. “You look like a sensible woman to me—they should listen. Now that woman next to you, she’s not so sensible.”

“But you’re going to marry her, anyway, and take care of her.” Sadie sighed dramatically. “That’s so romantic.”

Delia gritted her teeth at the two of them so casually discussing her, then leaned forward to glare at Cade. “He’s not my—”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Soon as we can manage.” Cade lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’re in a hurry, our love just can’t be contained. We can’t wait to—”

“What are you doing here?” Delia asked through a tightly clenched jaw. “And how fast can you go back to where you came from?”

Cade shot her a mock frown. “What kind of way is that to greet your fiancé?”

Delia gave up with a groan and closed her eyes.

She heard whispering, then felt shifting, and when she opened her eyes again, Cade was in the seat right next to her, his arm and thigh brushing hers. She could feel the heat of him through their clothes, and the strength he carefully held in check.

And when her gaze lifted to meet his, all traces of amusement had been replaced by a passion she found harder to deal with than his teasing. “Cade—”

“Your light was on all night and you left at the crack of dawn,” he said quietly. “You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat. You can’t travel like this.”

“I can get by on very little sleep, and believe me, my figure could do without a meal now and then. And coming from the consummate traveler, this conversation is very strange.”

“Everyone needs sleep, your body is amazing just the way it is and needs its fuel, and as a consummate traveler, I know what you’re doing. You’re nervous, you’re uptight and you need a friend.”

“Is that what you are? A friend?”

“I already told you that.”

“People tell me a lot of things.”

“That they don’t mean?” He shook his head, never taking his gaze off hers. “Not me.”

Of course she didn’t believe him; it would be ridiculous to do so. But she was breathless, and she told herself it was the pressure, since the plane had started its taxi down the runway.

It had absolutely nothing to do with his thinking her body was amazing. “You should have gone home, Cade.”

“Home?” The word rolled off his tongue as if it was foreign to him.

Which just proved her point. He could never really understand her and all that she held dear. “Home. Your office in Boise. Unless you have another home, which of course, since you never say a word about yourself or your private life, I wouldn’t know.”

“And that disturbs you.”

“I’m curious about you,” she admitted. “I don’t even know if you’re married.”

“I’m not,” he said with sudden grimness. “And I don’t talk about me. Ever.”

So much for their friendship. “Fine. Then go. Go far away.”

“Just go? Where? Anywhere, as long as it’s far from you?”

“Well…yes.”

He sighed. “You’re a tough nut, Delia, I’ll give you that. But I’m tougher.”

“What does that mean?” But she knew, and let out a groan. “You’re sticking.”

“Like glue.”

“I don’t need you.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I don’t want you.”

His full lips curved, and his expression lightened with genuine humor. “Now, now. Let’s not lie, not among friends.”

“We’re not friends. And I’m not lying!”

“Uh-huh.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back, deciding the only way to deal with this was to ignore him.

“Dream of me,” he whispered.

And damn him, she did.

The sunny warm weather in Southern California was so different from the cold autumn she’d just left, Delia couldn’t believe it. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, how delicious the weather was at all times in Los Angeles?

She rented a car from the airport, still trying to ignore Cade, which was becoming increasingly difficult, especially since each long assessing glance he gave her seemed to affect her accumulatively, so that she was aware of little else. It got so she didn’t have to be looking at him; she could feel his every move.

Jacob, she reminded herself. Concentrate on Jacob. There had to be a way to ensure custody, which she wanted so very much. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t imagine letting him live anywhere else when his family was in Idaho, but also that she already loved him and had from the moment she knew he existed.

“It’ll work out,” Cade said into the silence, his voice gentle and subdued, all joking gone. “Getting Jacob.”

Startled, she glanced at him. He was driving—he’d insisted, claiming that it would leave her mind free to race around if she wanted—and was concentrating on the road in front of him. He had the window down, his hair whipping wild in the breeze. With his sleeves shoved up to his elbows, revealing strong tanned forearms and big sure hands, he seemed relaxed. Confident. And just a tad cocky.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?” he said innocently.

“Am I such an open book that you can read my mind?”

He risked a quick glance at her. “On the contrary, actually.” He gave a smile that might have been a killer, if she wasn’t immune to such things. “But I do have an edge.”

“An edge?”

“Yeah. I understand you.”

“That’s interesting, considering we’re polar opposites.”

“Opposites attract,” he said so grimly she realized for the first time that he resented their strange chemistry even more than she did.

Because that gave her too much to think about, she made a disagreeing sound, turned away to look out the passenger window and tried to think about other things.

Soon she’d meet her brother for the first time. Her stomach danced with jittery butterflies. What would he be like?

What would great-aunt Edna be like? It hadn’t been until after their mother’s death just months ago that Jacob had even met Edna. She was Delia’s mother’s second aunt by marriage and until last year had lived in France—which was why twenty years ago, when Delia’s mother had left her in the foster home, there hadn’t been anyone available to help.

Jacob must be terrified; she’d certainly been all those years back. But in spite of everything, Delia considered herself lucky. She had found Zoe and Maddie, and they’d turned out to be her heart and soul.

Jacob had no one but Edna, and no matter how sweet and kind and wonderful she might be, it wasn’t the same as close family.

Delia didn’t fool herself. Getting close to Jacob—given the terse restrained phone conversations they’d had—wasn’t going to be easy. But she knew what it was like to hide behind a cool facade; she’d find a way to Jacob’s heart. She’d never abandon him.

But as she gave Cade the directions she’d been given, they went from the relative slums surrounding the airport to the elegant mansions of San Marino, and any confidence she’d managed to muster faded.

Jacob was living like a king.

How could she compare?

That was simple enough—she couldn’t. With a sinking feeling, she stared at the house they’d pulled up in front of. Three stories of brick and windows shaped into the most charming Tudor-style home she’d ever seen. The circular drive was surrounded with meticulous gardens, and a BMW sat in the drive, beneath a colorful flag waving the words Welcome, Friends.

She felt every bit the misplaced unwanted city girl. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t compete, and all her buried feelings of worthlessness worked to the surface.

At the touch on her arm, she looked into Cade’s unsmiling face. Yet she had no trouble detecting the warmth and compassion that made her want to crawl into a hole.

Where was her own inner strength?

“Delia.”

Instead of hugging her, as she knew he would have Zoe or Maddie, he reached over and gave her a gentle shake. “Don’t you give up. You’re better than that.”

“In case you missed it, that little flag over there is worth more than I am.”

“I’m not talking about your checkbook,” he said, his disappointment in her clear. “I’m talking heart. Soul. Now get out and go show them what you’re made of.”

Delia stared at him as panic raced through her veins like wildfire.

“Go,” he repeated firmly. “I’ll wait right here.”

What had she expected—him to hold her hand? She didn’t need that, or him. She could do this. Drawing upon years of experience, she took a deep supposedly calming breath and got out of the car.

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