Hawk's Way: Callen & Zach (10 page)

“S
AM, COME QUICK
!”

As a new father, Sam jumped two feet whenever he heard Callen call these days. Her frantic cry from the kitchen had him sprinting there to join her. “What’s wrong? Are Karen and Kayla all right?”

His question was answered before he finished voicing it. His twin one-year-old daughters were sitting happily in their high chairs with cereal dribbled across their mouths, the trays of their high chairs and the floor.

“Come here and read this, Sam,” Callen said, thrusting the local newspaper across the kitchen table toward him.

Sam took the paper without experiencing the knot that would once upon a time have formed in his stomach at the mere thought of confronting the written word.

“Look at that,” Callen said, her finger thumping against the paper. “I can’t believe any brother of mine could do anything so incredibly foolish.”

Sam read the item Callen had pointed out to him.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sam said with a chortle of glee. “That’s one way to find a wife I’d never have considered.”

“Do you see what that ad says?” Callen ranted. “Compliant! He might as well have said he wants a wife who’ll kowtow to everything he says. The nerve!”

“Settle down, sweetheart. Your brother’s a big boy. He knows what he’s doing.”

Callen snorted. “That’ll be the day. The only comfort I have is that the whole idea is so ridiculous, so preposterous, that no sane woman will respond.”

Sam threw the paper on the table. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Right now, I have more important things to think about.” He drew his wife up into his arms. “You two close your eyes,” he said to the little girls.

Sam lowered his mouth and gave his wife a lingering kiss, doing his best to ignore the giggles from the high-chair peanut gallery.

This book is dedicated to my editor, Melissa Senate, who knows when to push and when to have patience. Thanks, Mel.

“S
OMETHING WRONG
, M
ISS
L
ITTLEWOLF
?”

Rebecca surreptitiously wiped the tears from her cheeks and glanced up into warm brown eyes that were caught in a tangled web of crow’s-feet. “I’m fine, Mrs. Fortunata. Just a little tired, I guess.”

She and the short, rotund Italian woman had become friends because they both worked the graveyard shift at Children’s Hospital. Mrs. Fortunata mopped and buffed the floors every night. Rebecca was a nurse for children with cancer.

The hospital cafeteria was nearly deserted. Rebecca’s shift had ended a half hour ago, but she didn’t have the will to get up and go home.

“You don’t fool me,” Mrs. Fortunata said. “Eyes red like that, you got a cold or you got a problem. Which is it?”

“Timmy Carstairs died tonight.”

“You shouldn’t let yourself care so much,” Mrs. Fortunata gently chided.

“I know.” A ragged sigh escaped. “I try to figure out which ones will make it, and which ones won’t.” Rebecca paused to swallow the huge lump in her throat. “I thought Timmy was going to be one of the lucky ones. He sure had me fooled.” She tried to smile, but her lips wobbled dangerously.

Mrs. Fortunata shoved her mop into the nearby pail and wedged herself into the booth beside Rebecca. She took Rebecca’s hand in hers and patted it. “Nice young thing like you oughta be headed home to a husband and kids of her own.”

Rebecca tried for the smile again. And failed again. It was Mrs. Fortunata’s life ambition to see her married and pregnant. Preferably in that order. “Maybe someday.”

Mrs. Fortunata snorted. “You been sayin’ that the whole two years I’ve known you. Why don’t I ever see you with some nice young man? Ever since you kissed that Marty What’s-his-name goodbye, you’ve been alone. You got something against men these days?”

This time Rebecca managed the smile. “No. I like men just fine.”

“You haven’t met the right man yet, is that it?”

Rebecca retrieved her hand and took a sip of lukewarm coffee to keep from having to answer. She had met the right man years ago. But she hadn’t been the right woman for him.

“How’re you gonna fill up your life,” Mrs. Fortunata demanded, with flourishing gestures to emphasize her point, “if you don’t find yourself a husband and have yourself some children?”

“I’d like to run a summer camp for kids with cancer,” Rebecca replied. “If I could just figure out a way to finance it.” The kids who were in remission needed a place where they could go and just be kids, but they often had special needs that couldn’t be met by a regular camp experience. “It’s probably never going to happen, but I can always dream.”

“Everybody dreams. Only, you gotta do something
to make those dreams come true. Me, I wanta quit moppin’ floors someday.”

“Why, Mrs. Fortunata, I thought you liked mopping floors,” Rebecca teased.

“Tell you what. You get a camp for kids, you hire me to work for you. I quit moppin’ floors like that.” Mrs. Fortunata snapped two arthritic fingers together, or tried to. She gave up and made a flamboyant gesture that said it all without the snap.

“Meanwhile, you look here.” Mrs. Fortunata reached into a pocket in the huge set of white overalls she wore and produced a ragged newspaper. She shoved it in front of Rebecca. “You need a husband. Here’s a man who wants a wife. You give him a call. What do you say?”

Rebecca stared at the advertisement in the personals section of the Dallas newspaper.

Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “I know this man!”

“You do?”

Rebecca nodded excitedly. “My father was foreman of his ranch. I lived at Hawk’s Pride from the time I was thirteen until I turned seventeen.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“My dad died from a heart attack, and I used the life insurance settlement to go to college. There was no reason to go back.”

“Now there is. You see this man. You tell him you want to be his wife.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“He’s already told me to get lost once. I don’t need to be told a second time that I’m not wanted.”

“Aha! So he’s the reason you don’t like other men!”

“I never said—”

“I see what you don’t say,” Mrs. Fortunata said. “You loved him. Fine. Don’t let him get away this time.”

“Mrs. Fortunata—”

“No excuses. You go see this man. You tell him you’d make a good wife.”

“Look at the date on this paper,” Rebecca said in desperation. “It’s three weeks old. He’s probably already found a wife.”

“And maybe not.”

“I just couldn’t.”

“What’re you waiting for? You’re gonna be an old lady all alone like me, you don’t do something quick.”

Rebecca laughed. “You were married for forty years before Mr. Fortunata died. You’ve got ten grandchildren!”

“My kids have moved all over the country. I don’t see all those grandbabies so much as I’d like anymore. I miss them. You keep foolin’ around, you won’t even have grandbabies to miss!”

Rebecca laughed again. “All right. I give up. I’ll go see him.”

But it wasn’t going to do any good. Zach Whitelaw had already told her to stay the hell out of his way. Of course, she had only been a kid of seventeen at the time.

Maybe he would be willing to take a second look at a mature woman of twenty-three.

“I
SAW YOUR ADVERTISEMENT FOR A WIFE
. I’ve come to apply for the job.”

Zach Whitelaw stared in astonishment at the woman dressed in a white T-shirt, jeans and boots on the other side of the screen door. “Becky? Is that you?” His lips slowly curled with amusement. He shoved the door open and said, “Come on in, kid.”

“I’m not a—”

“Kid,” he finished as he tugged on the waist-length black hair that had fallen over her shoulder. His grin broadened as he looked her over from head to toe. Their eyes met and his face sobered. “It’s been a long time.”

“Six years.”

“Surely not that long?”

Rebecca nodded. She stood mute beneath Zach’s perusal, but couldn’t prevent the flush that turned skin that was a warm honey color—thanks to her Comanche forebears—a deeper hue.

“Nope. You’re definitely not a kid anymore,” he said at last. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

“I’m a nurse at Children’s Hospital in Dallas.”

“Figures,” he said with a grin. “Last time I saw you a ragged-eared mutt was stumping along behind you on a splint you’d rigged up for his broken leg. Whatever happened to that mutt, anyway?”

“That ‘mutt’ is named Pepper,” she said archly, “and I left him with friends in Dallas.”

“Are you still rescuing every helpless critter that crosses your path?”

“I’ve had to cut back some,” she conceded with a smile. “There’s not much extra space in a one-bedroom condo.”

“You had quite a collection of the walking wounded when you lived here with your dad.” He chuckled. “Everything from a skunk to a snake.”

“I could never stand to see anything in pain,” she said without apology. “It’s a major failing of mine.”

“Must make it hard to work with sick kids,” he said.

Oh, how perceptive he was. He always had been.

“Sometimes it is hard.” More than sometimes, but she hadn’t come to Zach for a shoulder to cry on.

Rebecca felt caught in the warp of time, unable to move in or out of the doorway. She had fallen madly in love with Zach at the age of thirteen. She had fantasized what it would be like to be kissed by him, to be held in his strong arms. She had hinted at what a good kisser she might become, if only she had someone to practice on. He had ignored the fumbling adolescent signals she had sent out and treated her like a bratty younger sister, letting her work with him. With amazing patience, he had taught her everything there was to know about ranching. But not a blamed thing about kissing.

Unfortunately, long before she was old enough to catch Zach’s eye, he had fallen in love with another—much older—woman of twenty-two. She had thought she would die when Zach told her he planned to marry Cynthia Kenyon.

“You can’t get married!” she had cried. “You can’t!”

“Look, kid—”

“I’m not a kid, I’m a woman!”

He had laughed at her. Laughed! “Look, kid—”

“Don’t call me that!”

“But you are a kid,” he said gently. “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Wait a few years. Some man will come along and fall head over heels for you.”

She had stared at him in horror. It dawned on her suddenly that he wasn’t going to wait for her to grow up. He was going to marry Cynthia Kenyon and be lost to her forever.

“You’re so stupid,” she had gibed. “You don’t know anything!” She had run then, searching for a place to hide, a place where she could nurse her pain alone.

Hours later, her father had found her in the loft of the barn. Her fondest memory of her father was the way he had comforted her that day. He had settled on his knees in the straw, folded her into his arms and held her while she cried, her body heaving with great wrenching sobs of terrible grief. When her body was exhausted, and she could cry no more, he had gently wiped away the tears with his bandanna.

“I know you think this is the end of the world,” he said. “But someday you’ll grow up and fall in love, and you’ll realize this was just a childhood infatuation.”

She had believed him. Or tried to believe him. But his words hadn’t been much comfort to a vulnerable girl with a broken heart.

The next time she saw Zach, she had managed to stutter, “I w-wish you and Cynthia a l-lifetime of l-love and happiness.”

He had put a brotherly arm around her shoulder. “That means a lot to me, kid.” Then he had cuffed her chin playfully with his knuckles and let her go.

She hadn’t gone near him for a whole week. Eventually, she had decided she might as well enjoy his company while she could. But things were never quite the same between them after that. She caught him staring at her more than once with an odd look in his eyes that made her uncomfortable.

It had been a sore test for her immortal soul when, two days before the wedding, Cynthia had been killed in a plane crash. Somehow she had managed to express the appropriate sympathy, but Zach had been inconsolable. She had held on to the hope, slight though it was, that he might turn to her in his grief.

He had not.

In all these years, and despite her father’s promise that Zach would become a part of her past, she had never fallen out of love with him. She had dated occasionally and had even been engaged once. But Zach Whitelaw had been the standard by which she had measured all other men. She had backed out of her engagement because she had realized she was being unfair to Marty What’s-his-name, as Mrs. Fortunata referred to him, by constantly comparing him unfavorably to Zach.

“Are you coming in, or not?” Zach asked.

“I’m coming in.” She was momentarily shadowed by Zach’s over-six-foot height as she stepped inside the kitchen of his adobe ranch house. He hissed in a breath as the tips of her breasts brushed against his shirt. They froze momentarily at the shocking contact. Zach reached out and took her shoulders in a tight grasp to separate their bodies. Nevertheless, a frisson of electricity continued to arc between them.

The attraction was there. It had been there since
the
incident
between them when she was seventeen. At least on her side. She had no idea what Zach felt. It was because of
the incident
that she had kept her distance all these years.

“Those tactics won’t work any better this time than they did the last,” he said abruptly.

She looked up and found herself captured by eyes that were dark and dangerous. “I didn’t mean to brush against you, Zach. It was an accident.”

“Like the last time was an accident?”

He hadn’t forgotten
the incident
any more than she had.

It had happened six years ago, before she left for college, but a full year after Cynthia’s death. Zach had become a morose and moody man. She had wanted him to turn to her, to see her as the woman who could replace Cynthia in his mind and his heart. She had wanted him to marry her so they could be together forever. But he still didn’t see her as a woman. So she had picked her moment and purposely tripped and fallen against him in the barn.

Their bodies had come into close, hard contact. She had reveled in his harsh intake of breath as her breasts pillowed against his chest. She vividly remembered the swirling dust motes caught in a golden shaft of sunlight, the pungent smells of hay and manure.

His hands had closed around her waist as though to push her away, yet he hadn’t. Their faces had been close enough that she could feel his warm, damp breath against her cheek. But she had been the one who had to lift her lips to his.

She had been surprised by their softness. And disappointed when he jerked his face away. He had released
her quickly and exhaled with a short huff. She had seen the evidence of his response to her in the tight fit of his jeans and smiled up at him. Her smile had faded when he failed to return it.

The look on his face had been terrible to see. His lips had flattened, and his eyes went cold. His hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said.

“Do what?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“Look, little girl,” he said in a steely voice. “Don’t play the tease unless you want to end up flat on your back with me on top of you.”

She had flushed with embarrassment at such frank speaking. And tried again to deny her guilt. “I wasn’t—”

“I like you, kid,” he said quietly. “But I’m no good for you. Stay away from me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a—”

“Kid? You’re seventeen. I’m thirty. Give yourself some time to grow up. Then find a man who can love you, and settle down and have some kids of your own.”

“But you’re the man I want!” she blurted.

His lips tilted on one side in a bittersweet smile. “I’ll never love another woman, kid.” His dark eyes turned merciless. “Just stay the hell away from me.”

Seeing the same warning look in his eyes now as she had seen that long ago day, Rebecca put some distance between herself and Zach. At the sink she turned to face him again. “Why are you advertising for a wife, Zach? I would think you could have any woman you wanted just by asking.”

“Actually, I don’t want a wife.”

“What?”

“I need a woman to be the mother of my children. I
advertised for a wife so there’ll be no misunderstanding that it’s purely a business arrangement. Still want to apply for the job?”

Rebecca swallowed hard. “I see. That puts a new light on things.” She had thought he was finally over Cynthia, but apparently not.

However, if this was the way he intended to acquire a wife, she would have to do her best to cope with the situation. She met all his qualifications. Or almost all. She was honest and responsible and would love having Zach’s children. She had dismissed the
compliant
part of the ad. Zach should have known better than to write something like that in this day and age. But the “business arrangement” he had described raised questions in her mind.

“What about love?” Rebecca asked.

“What about it?”

“Don’t you want a wife who’ll love you?”

“It isn’t necessary. In fact, it would be a nuisance, since I don’t expect to love her back.”

Rebecca had always fantasized that someday Zach would fall in love with her, and they would marry and live happily ever after. It was the stuff fairy tales were made of.

Zach had just announced he had no intention of falling in love with her or any other woman. Her brow furrowed in thought. He wasn’t offering much, but it would take a harder man than the Zach Whitelaw she knew to resist all the love she planned to heap on him.

She gave him a brilliant smile and said, “I’m your woman, Zach. I’d be perfect for the job.”

Zach laughed aloud. “Forget it, kid.” He grabbed a bar stool from the center island, turned it around and
straddled it. He crossed his arms on the stool’s wooden back and grinned. “My advertisement was quite specific. You’re not exactly what I had in mind.”

“But, I—”

“Zach, there’s another applicant at the front door who says—” The petite, dark-eyed, dark-haired woman stopped in her tracks at the kitchen door. “Becky! I didn’t know you were here.”

Rebecca gave Zach’s younger sister a friendly smile. “Hi, Callen. You’re looking great. I understand you’re a new mother.” She had caught up on all the local gossip at the Stanton Hotel in town where she was staying.

Callen laid her hands on her nearly flat abdomen. “I didn’t know it showed.”

Rebecca gave her a quizzical look. “I was talking about the twins, Kayla and Karen.”

“Then you don’t know about this one?”

“This one?”

She grinned. “Sam and I are expecting another child in six and a half months. This baby was a surprise with the twins only a year old, but it’s very welcome.”

“How is Sam holding up?” Rebecca asked.

“Sam’s still in shock,” Callen replied with a sheepish look. “It’s a nice kind of shock, because we want a large family. But tell me about you. Are you just visiting, or are you here to stay?”

Rebecca shot a quick glance in Zach’s direction. “That depends on Zach. I saw his advertisement for a wife, and I’ve come to apply for the job.”

“Not you, too!” Callen said in disgust. “For the record, I disapprove of this whole business. Mom and Daddy aren’t too keen on it, either. A man ought to marry because he’s in love, not because he’s decided it’s
time he had an heir and needs an appropriate brood mare. I can’t believe you’d put yourself in the running. As much as I love my brother, he’d be hell to live with. And given his attitude toward women, he’ll make a terrible husband.”

“I think he’d be fine husband material, assuming he got the right wife.” Rebecca glanced quickly at Zach, at the lock of thick, black hair that had fallen on his brow, at the dark, inscrutable eyes in his finely chiseled face, at the high, wide cheekbones, and his straight nose and strong chin. It was an arresting face, and Rebecca had to force her eyes away from Zach and back to his sister.

Callen snorted and rolled her eyes. “You don’t know my brother like I do. He’s an arrogant, chauvinistic Neanderthal who hasn’t been in a real relationship with a woman since Cynthia—”

Callen cut herself off. Apparently, even so many years after her death, Cynthia was a taboo subject. “I can’t imagine what woman would want to attach herself to Zach for life!”

“Lucky for me I don’t require a recommendation from you,” Zach said with a lazy grin.

“Omigosh! I almost forgot. There’s a woman in the living room who wants an interview, Zach. Is she number fourteen or fifteen?”

“Seventeen, actually.”

Rebecca was amazed and appalled at the number of women Zach had already rejected, but also encouraged. He must not be as ready to leap into marriage with a stranger as he professed.

Zach rose. “Duty calls.”

“May I come along?” Rebecca asked.

“Why not?”

“I’m coming, too,” Callen said. “I don’t want to miss this,” she said in an aside to Rebecca. “Wait until you see the kind of woman that’s been replying to Zach’s ad.”

Rebecca wasn’t sure what she was expecting, maybe a poor, plain, uneducated woman, who couldn’t get a husband any other way. That would explain all those rejected applicants.

The woman sitting on Zach’s saddle-brown leather couch was absolutely beautiful, self-assured, sophisticated and utterly relaxed. Rebecca felt her heart sink. No wonder Zach had laughed when she announced herself as an applicant for the position of wife. She was pretty and poised, but she just wasn’t in the same ballpark as the beauty in Zach’s living room. If this was her competition, she had her work cut out for her. She dropped into a pine rocker across from the couch and waited for the show to start.