A Texas Soldier's Family (8 page)

She watched him prick two russet potatoes with a fork, coat them with olive oil and sea salt and wrap them in foil. “Did you mean what you said about wanting a family?”

“It’s why I haven’t already accepted the job at Walter Reed in Bethesda.”

She took a seat on the other side of the breakfast bar. “Because it means reenlisting.”

He slid the potatoes into the oven to bake. “And reenlisting means my orders could change at any time. I’d be sent where they need me. As a single guy, with no responsibilities to anyone other than myself, I’ve been happy to comply. As a family man, I’d want more control.”

Hope had never realized just how tantalizing it was to see a man in the kitchen—until now. Or just how much she had come to enjoy just being with him. “Is that why you haven’t married? Because you were on active-duty military?”

“Actually, I was going to get married a few years ago.”

Something in her went very still.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. And yet it was. “What happened?”

Garrett poured olive oil and lime juice into a glass baking dish then chopped up fresh oregano, garlic and cilantro and added them, as well. A sprinkling of dried chili powder and cumin followed.

“I discovered there are two kinds of women who don’t mind their mates being away for long periods of time.” He paused to look her in the eye. “Those who are truly devoted to their men and understand the patriotic need to serve one’s country. And those who want the respectability and stability of an official relationship, while still enjoying plenty of time and freedom to pursue other romantic interests.”

Ouch.

The sting of betrayal came and went in his eyes.

Heart going out to him, she said, “I’m guessing your engagement fell into the latter category.”

He added a slab of flank steak to the aromatic marinade in the glass dish. “You would guess right.” He turned to wash his hands.

“Care to be more specific?”

His shoulders tensed. “My ex is Leanne Sharp.”

“Chief of staff of Congressman Jared Thiessen?”

His eyes narrowed. “You know her?”

“I know of her.” She was a gorgeous, ambitious Southern belle, from a very well-connected and wealthy Dallas family. Just imagining her with Garrett conjured up a stab of jealousy, which was, Hope knew, completely uncalled for. Whatever they had shared was a one-time thing.

“In my previous job I had a lot of dealings with politicians.”

His mouth thinned. “Thiessen?”

“One of his colleagues—Len Miller—had a pretty messy divorce. We enlisted Thiessen, who’s public reputation is stellar, to vouch for my client’s trustworthiness.”

Garrett’s expression darkened. “I remember that. You-all spun Miller’s infidelity as a domestic dispute, a symptom of the problems in the Miller marriage, instead of the problem.”

Which had been true, as far as Hope could discern, anyway. “Len Miller still lost his next election, but I think that had more to do with his voting record, or lack thereof, than his infidelity.”

Garrett chuckled grimly, shook his head.

Hope wanted to be let in on the joke. “What?”

His mouth tightening, Garrett turned to get a beer from the fridge. He twisted off the cap, took a swig. “I just find it ironic that you would use
Jared Thiessen
as a moral barometer and character reference.”

“Why?” Hope got up to help herself to another glass of milk. Deciding to live dangerously, she stirred some chocolate syrup into it. “Jared’s got a great reputation as a family man. Plus, he has won eight straight elections.”

Garrett went still.

Hope waited.

Finally, eyes level, he said, “Congressman Jared Thiessen is the love of Leanne’s life. She only got involved with me as cover for her affair with him.”

Oh, my God.
Hope shared his devastation. “How did you find out?”

Garrett began to slice zucchini and yellow squash. “Usual way. Stumbled on some racy texts on Leanne’s phone when she asked me to look up our dinner reservations while she put on her makeup.”

“That must have been unpleasant.” Not to mention careless on his ex’s part.

“You’d think that would have been rock bottom.” He reached for a couple of carrots and sliced them on the diagonal, added them to the sauté pan.

“It wasn’t?”

He turned the heat up beneath the veggies. “She asked me to lie about why we broke up.”

“And did you?”

Garrett’s face remained implacable. “I saw no reason to hurt his wife and kids. They were innocent and he was a public figure. Had it become known, it would have been all over the news, and the kids would have been devastated.”

“So you kept quiet.”

Garrett inhaled sharply. “Reluctantly, but yeah.”

“Which is why you hate scandal management.”

He pinned her with his hard blue gaze. “I hate any hiding of the truth.”

* * *

H
OPE
UNDERSTOOD
. H
E
’
D
BEEN
caught in an impossible situation. Still was, in certain respects. His honor was one of the things she loved most about him. “I’m sorry you went through all that.”

He snorted in derision. “Live and learn.”

Needing to comfort him, she closed the distance between them. Started to reach for him. A knock sounded at the door.

Hope sighed.

He lifted a brow. “Expecting someone?”

“No. Although Lucille texted me earlier and said your brothers might drop by later.”

“Doubtful,” Garrett said. “At least for tonight. I heard from them, too. Wyatt has a mare in extended labor. Chance is in the midst of re-homing a couple of his prime bulls.”

Hope put her hands on her hips. “Well, then.”

“I know.” Garrett grinned, his usual good humor returning as he strode for the bunkhouse entrance. “I just don’t rate.” He opened the door.

Darcy Dunlop stood on the other side, a covered dish in hand, a pinched look on her thin face. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all.” Immediately compassionate, Garrett ushered her in.

Hope smiled. “Hi, Darcy.”

“Hi.”

“Tank okay?” Garrett asked.

“That’s why I came over. To talk to you and give you this.” She took the top off the most delicious-looking berry crisp Hope had ever seen. “As a thank-you for helping us out the other night.”

“No problem.” Garrett looked past her. “I see you got your pickup running again.”

“Yeah,” Darcy replied nervously. “Smitty’s repair shop does a great job.”

Garrett gestured for her to have a seat at the counter. “So, what’s going on?”

“Tank has stopped going to his physical therapy sessions in town. He was hit or miss before, but this week he’s refusing to go at all.”

Garrett warned, “He’s not going to regain full range of motion with that leg unless he does the work.”

“I know,” Darcy said sadly. “The physical therapists have all told him that.”

“Then...?”

“I think he’s starting to give up on thinking things are ever going to get better,” Darcy admitted hoarsely. “Anyway, I was wondering, do you think you could come by and talk to him? You were able to make him see reason the other night...” Darcy broke off, tearing up. “If you could do it again...”

“Where is Tank now?” Garrett asked gently.

“Home. His parents went to visit family so we’d have the house to ourselves for a week or so. They thought it would help. But so far, it’s just not.” Her lower lip trembling, she slid off the stool and backed up. “But I can see I’m interrupting you-all’s dinner plans. I should have called first.”

If there was one thing Hope knew, it was a person in distress. Crises like this called for immediate action. She looked at Garrett, letting him know with a glance their evening together could wait. He nodded in wordless agreement. Putting a big arm around Darcy’s thin shoulders, he said, “Why don’t we go see Tank right now.”

“You’re s-s-sure?”

Garrett nodded.

“Actually,” Hope said, “it’s a really good time.”

Thanks
, Garrett mouthed.

He got out the keys for his pickup truck and patted his cell phone. “Call me if you need anything.”

She noted he did not promise when he’d be back.

“Will do.” She flashed another smile.

Garrett and Darcy left.

Hope finished sautéing the veggies, grilled the marinated flank steak and removed the perfectly baked potatoes from the oven. Although she would have liked to wait for Garrett to return to eat, the fact that she was nursing and still trying to get her milk supply back up dictated otherwise.

So she ate in silence.

Did the dishes.

Nursed Max when he woke up and gave him his evening bath.

Then nursed him a little more for good measure before putting him back to sleep.

And still no Garrett.

She had just finished brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed when she heard the bunkhouse door open and close. She walked out, clad in a pair of pink floral pajamas.

Garrett’s dark hair was rumpled, as if he’d been running his hands through it. The faint shadow of an evening beard lined his jaw, circles of fatigue rimmed his eyes.

Resisting the urge to admit how much she had missed him and launch herself into his arms, she asked casually, “Everything okay?”

He sank down on the middle of the sofa, draped both arms across the back, and stretched his long, jeans-clad legs out in front of him. “I talked Tank into going back to PT.”

Hope perched in the corner next to him. “Good for you. That will help.”

He took her hand in his. Tingles sparked and spread outward, through not just her arm but her entire body.

He smiled. “Physical activity always does.”

Feeling somehow unbearably restless, she disengaged their palms and stood. She strode into the kitchen, picked up a near-empty glass off the counter, drained it and set it in the dishwasher. “Did you eat?”

He studied her as she shut the dishwasher door with a snap. Slowly he got to his feet. “Darcy fixed something for both of us.”

“Good.”

He came closer. Moved around the counter to face her. “Sorry I missed dinner.”

The cooking area suddenly seemed awfully small. She crossed her arms in front of her and said seriously, “This was important.” Helping people always was.

He nodded. The casual affection in his gaze deepened. He gave her lips a long, thorough once-over. “Not sure most women would understand that.”

Oh, heavens, she wanted him to kiss her again. More than that, actually. Hope stepped back. One palm pressed to her head, the other to her waist, she preened like a 1940s pinup girl. “I thought I made it clear.” For added emphasis, she tossed her hair, too. “I’m not most women.”

Amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “You might have, at that.” He wrapped his brawny arms around her, nuzzled her temple. “Max okay?”

Excitement roared through her and her breath hitched. “He is.”

His lips blazed a trail across her cheek. “That’s good to hear.”

“It is.”

He found the sensitive spot behind her ear. Her knees went wobbly.

Hope stopped him, her hands splayed on his chest. The practical side of her knew this was a bad idea. This morning’s activities had been reckless enough. She swallowed, determined to enforce at least some limits. “You know this is private.”

He stepped back slightly, hands down. “Between the two of us? Of course.”

“And only temporary.”

Looking impossibly handsome and determined in the muted light of the bunkhouse kitchen, he asked, ever so softly, “Is it?”

Their eyes met, held for several long moments. Her heart pounded and her body pulsed with yearning. “You’re headed off to Walter Reed...” Which was much too far away from Dallas.

He stepped forward and closed the distance between them, sending an even higher level of reckless excitement pumping through her veins. “Not necessarily,” he said with a shrug. “And definitely not yet.”

Chapter Eight

Garrett planted a hand on the counter on either side of Hope and leaned in close enough that she could see the passion gleaming in his eyes. “I realized something today,” he told her soberly. “The soldiers most in need are the veterans who are no longer in the military. More has to be done for them.”

She wished he didn’t look so good, even in jeans, a black cotton polo and boots. She lounged back against the counter, trying not to feel his body heat. “There are existing organizations. Wounded Warriors, for one...”

His gaze roving her upturned face. “And they do a great job. No question. But they can’t be everywhere.” Lifting his hands, he moved away from her, opened up the fridge and pulled out a beer. “Right now, Laramie County has a growing population of former soldiers. Many aren’t physically wounded. But all of them could benefit from more readily available services.”

She watched him twist off the cap. Wished she could join him. She poured herself another glass of milk, instead. “Like support groups?”

He toasted her wordlessly. “And physical therapy, taken alongside other vets. Job training. Assistance making the transition into civilian life.” He smiled at the intent way she was listening to his plans. “Bess Monroe is doing a great thing in starting West Texas Warrior Assistance. But the Lockhart Foundation really let her down.” He shook his head in dissatisfaction. “I’m going to fix that.”

She loved it when he was on a mission.

“Singlehandedly?”

Mischievously, he waggled his brow. “I have sway with the board of directors.”

Unable to do anything but laugh, Hope quipped in return, “So I’ve heard.” His family did seem to adore him.

She
was beginning to adore him.

Especially when he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful, desirable woman on Earth.

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, gazing at her with the same smitten look she had seen other men give their wives in the maternity ward.

“Seriously, I’m going to make sure the dream becomes a reality for the people here in Laramie County, sooner rather than later.”

She believed him. Just as she believed he was wildly attracted to her—for the time being. But she had to ask, “How?”

Another lift of his impossibly wide shoulders. “That I haven’t quite figured out yet, but I’m working on it.”

For a moment, her optimism rose, while her ability to censor her questions failed—big time.

A veil dropped over his emotions. His lips curved ruefully, as if to say,
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Which, really, was what she should have expected, Hope reminded herself. She had no more business weighing in on his career decisions than anyone else in his family.

This was something he had to decide for himself.

“I have a few weeks left, before I have to give the army an answer.”

Which begged her next question. Did he know what it was going to be? The maddeningly implacable look on his face gave her no clue.

“So, at least temporarily, I can stay right here in Texas.”

Temporarily
being the operative word. Hope pushed aside her selfishness. “Well, that’s good,” she murmured, forcing a smile. “I’m sure your very philanthropic mother will be really proud of you.” As would his whole family.

His sexy grin widened. He put his quarter-finished beer aside, lowered his head and scored his thumb across her bottom lip. “What about you? Are you proud of me?”

A thrill soared through her. Hope caught her breath.

He touched his lips lightly to hers in an angel-soft kiss. Paused long enough to undo the butterfly clip on the back of her head. “’Cause if I’m going to get a gold star for good behavior,” he rasped, seductively combing his fingers through the tumbling strands of her hair, “I’d sure like to get it from you.”

* * *

C
OMMON
SENSE
HAD
told Hope they shouldn’t be doing this again. At least, not while she was still working for his family foundation.

But for now, she thought, as they kissed their way to his bedroom once again, she couldn’t think about anything but the closeness she felt whenever she was with him. What was one more moment in time, one more blissful, passion-filled night, except an interlude to be grateful for? And she
was
grateful for the feel of his strong arms around her as he disrobed her, and then himself, and stretched out alongside her on the bed.

Sliding one arm beneath her shoulders, he lifted her head to his. He kissed her temple, jaw, throat. “Have I told you how much I like it when you catch your breath and look at me like that?” He caressed his way down her body, then returned to her mouth and kissed her again, deeply and provocatively this time, the kiss a melding of heat and need. “As if you can’t help but want me as much as I want you.”

Hope felt treasured in that special man–woman way. To the point that, if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she had finally found the soul mate she had been searching for her entire life.

Maybe love wasn’t involved here, but everything else that mattered was present. Which made her feel as if their coming together was a step toward something unconventional—and yet wonderful.

His lips closed over the tips of her breasts. Laved delicately. Sensation warred with the thrill of possession, as he kissed his way lower, across her ribs, her navel, hips. Lower still, he traced the insides of her thighs to the dampness within. His ministrations felt incredibly good, incredibly right. Hope closed her eyes, clung to him and surrendered all the more. The eroticism of his touch flowed over her in hot, exciting waves. Trembling from head to toe at the long, sensual strokes of his tongue and the soothing feel of his lips, she caught his head in her hands and tangled her fingers in his hair. Until, at last, her head fell back; her body shuddered with pleasure. Yearning spiraled deep inside her. And then she came apart in his hands.

He held her through the aftershocks.

“My turn,” she teased.

Wanting to take the lead, she shifted positions, tracing the bunched muscles and hot satiny skin, learning the mysteries of him, just as he had come to know hers. Her hair brushed over his ripped abdomen and hard, muscular thighs. Inhaling the tantalizing masculine scent of him, she teased, tormented and pleased. Tasted the salt of his perspiration and the familiar sweetness of his skin. Aware she had never felt so alive, so safe and treasured and loved, she focused on one seductive plateau after another, until he could not help but groan.

Trembling, he reached for her. He shifted her upward, across his body, then over, onto her back.

The warmth and strength of his body engulfed her. She wound her arms around his neck and opened herself up to him, to the sensation of being taken. He lifted her with one hand and then they were one. All was lost in the blazing hot passion and the overwhelming need. Adrenaline rushed. Pleasure spiraled. And in the sweet blissful satisfaction that followed, Hope realized that the notion that she might one day have an adoring husband, in addition to her amazing little boy, and a loving family of her own, was not so far-fetched, after all.

* * *

E
ARLY
THE
NEXT
AFTERNOON
, Garrett’s only sister breezed through the bunkhouse door. Hope blinked in surprise. “Sage?” This was certainly unexpected!

Garrett came in to stand beside Hope, Max snuggled drowsily in his arms. He bussed the top of his little sister’s head. “What are you doing here, little sis?”

Sage set her overnight bag down. “Mom asked me to fly in first thing and meet you all at the ranch. I wanted wheels of my own so I’d have maximum flexibility to come and go as needed, so I rented a car at the San Angelo airport.”

“Mom’s not here yet?” Chance walked in.

“Actually, she is.” Wyatt joined them, with a look over his shoulder at the limo stopping in front of the bunkhouse porch.

Both brothers turned back to Sage and Garrett. “What’s going on?” Chance and Wyatt asked in unison.

“No clue,” Garrett said.

That made two of them, Hope thought with a twinge of anxiety.

Lucille breezed in. Clad in her usual outfit—a silk-and-linen sheath and heels, trademark pearls around her neck, her hair and makeup expertly done—she managed to look both exceedingly well-groomed and as if she had the entire world sitting on her shoulders.

She was followed by Adelaide Smythe.

Wyatt froze at the sight of Adelaide right behind Lucille. His gaze dropped to Adelaide’s rounded tummy and turned dark, then he looked away entirely.

That was weird, Hope thought, wondering what was going on between those two to cause such tension...

Inhaling, Lucille squared her shoulders. “Adelaide and I wanted to talk to you all at once.” She paused to make eye contact with everyone in the room. “And we wanted to do it in person.”

Which meant, Hope thought, the two women had figured out something...and she had a sinking feeling it had something to do with the annual fly-fishing trip Paul Smythe had secretly skipped this year. The trip he might have taken instead with Mirabelle Fanning.

“We need to have a board meeting,” Lucille said, taking her place at the head of the long plank table. “So everyone get what you need to be comfortable, and then have a seat.”

Five minutes later, Max was in his port-a-crib, snoozing away, and everyone was gathered around the table, coffee or sparkling water in front of them.

Lucille stood at the head of the table, practically buzzing with nerves. “There is no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. Twenty-five million dollars, or half of the foundation’s funds, have been embezzled.”

The matriarch waited for the reaction to subside.

“All the checks that were supposed to go to the nonprofit organizations we were supporting apparently had the ‘pay to the order of’ information changed, as soon as I signed them.”

Another deathly silence fell.

“How is that possible?” Sage asked, upset.

Lucille turned to the forensic accountant.

Face pale, Adelaide explained grimly, “There’s a very sophisticated Wite-Out that thieves use on checks that allows them to change whatever they want—the date, the amount, who the money is going to—and still keep the authentic signature of the account holder. On all of the checks from the foundation, only the beneficiary of the check was changed.” She swallowed hard. “For instance, Metroplex Pet Rescue became Metroplex Pet Rescue Inc. Meals for Seniors became Meals for Seniors In Need. Preschoolers Read! became Dallas Preschoolers Read! The amounts and dates all stayed exactly the same, which allowed the fraud to go undetected in the Lockhart Foundation ledgers for nearly a year.”

“And your father never once caught on to this?” Wyatt asked skeptically.

Hope was surprised, too. From everything she’d heard, she had deduced that Paul Smythe was a very smart man.

Adelaide’s voice cracked. “My father did the embezzling.”

For a moment, everyone could only stare. Adelaide drew a deep breath, blinking back tears. “Believe me, I didn’t want to believe it, either,” she said hoarsely.

“Nor did I.” Lucille opened up a file and passed around copies of the canceled checks, provided to them by the bank. “But there’s no question as to what happened. Paul Smythe’s signature is on the back of every single cashed check.”

Adelaide nodded sadly. “Lucille and I visited all of the banks yesterday. The various financial institutions where the money was supposed to have been deposited. And wasn’t. And the bank where my father used his position as CFO to open accounts in both the fake charities’ and the Lockhart Foundation’s names, so he could move the money around very easily.”

Wyatt shrugged. “Well, if we know all that, can’t we get the money back?”

Lucille shook her head.

“It’s already been transferred out of the country,” Adelaide explained unhappily. “He moved it to a bank in a country that has a no money-tracking agreement with the United States. And then he withdrew all the funds yesterday.”

Another tense silence fell.

“Did he do this alone?” Chance said finally.

Adelaide grimaced. “Mirabelle Fanning was a VP at the bank where all the fraud occurred. She managed all the transactions and helped my father open all the bogus accounts. She took a long-planned early retirement last week. We assume they are together.”

“Has your father contacted you?” Sage asked quietly, as sympathetic toward her old friend as she was distraught over what had just happened to their family charity.

“He texted me this morning. Said, ‘I left the trail so no one else at the foundation would be blamed. Don’t bother to look further for the money or me—you’ll never find either.’ I tried calling him, but his cell phone provider said the account was canceled right after that message was sent. I’m sure he took the battery out and destroyed the phone so there would be no tracking it, either.”

“Have you reported all this to the police?” Chance asked.

“No,” his mother retorted. “And I don’t plan to until after I’ve personally made this right, visiting every charity in person and paying what is due to them.”

“Are we going to have enough money to do that?” Garrett asked, no doubt thinking about the local group that still needed so much help.

Adelaide consulted her computer. “For all but West Texas Warrior Assistance. There, the foundation is going to have to give them what was offered in writing, five thousand dollars, instead of the five hundred thousand that Lucille wanted to give them.”

Garrett looked extremely unhappy about that. Hope felt the same. She also knew there was little else that could be done, at least for now.

“And then what?” Sage bit out.

Lucille paused. “I need to talk to Hope in private about that.”

* * *

“A
RE
YOU
DOING
OKAY
?” Hope asked Lucille, as the two set out for a walk. The afternoon was hot, but overcast. A stiff breeze blew across the rolling plains.