All I Need Is You (26 page)

D
amian was about halfway to Chicago when he decided to head back to Texas. He’d given up too easily. Nor had he used all the options available to him—guilt, moral obligation, or any number of other things he could have tried to sway Casey’s answer. He’d let that feeling of rejection send him packing with his tail between his legs. Disgusting. And if he was going to be turned down, he could at least have gotten the other things that were bothering him off his chest. There’d been no need to be diplomatic at that point.

So he left the train to find out how long a wait he’d have for the next train heading south—and came across Casey having lunch inside the depot. He was so amazed to see her there, it took him a few moments to believe it.

That couldn’t be Casey in a bright yellow traveling dress with matching bonnet, even matching shoes; it was just someone who resembled her. That was his first reaction, yet he knew it was she. His whole body coming alive with tension told him for sure.

But that meant she’d been on the train since Waco, and how could he have missed knowing that—of course he wouldn’t know. He’d made arrangements with the new porter who came with the larger parlor car, to bring him his meals in the car. He’d barely left that car since Waco, his less-than-happy frame of mind making him want to avoid people at the frequent train stops.

He approached her table slowly, still afraid it was just wishful thinking that had put her there before him. And when she glanced up at him with that inscrutable expression of hers—he now knew where she got that habit from—it was a bit more than disconcerting. No surprise on her part, no smile, no “Well, imagine running into you here,” nothing that he could grasp and deal with.

So he said simply, “You came.”

“Yes.”

And then, with less neutrality: “When were you going to let me know?”

“I wasn’t.”

He stiffened. “And why not? I thought we worked rather well together before.”

“We did some things well together, but finding Jack wasn’t one of them.”

That candid reply was so unexpected, Damian was rendered almost speechless. And she wasn’t even blushing for having more or less stated they’d been good in bed together. But she’d brought it up, and his anger was there to take quick advantage of that fact.

“Funny you should mention that, Casey. I wouldn’t have gathered you thought so, not with the way you went off in the middle of the
night without saying good-bye, go to hell, or it’s been fun.”

“I thought we parted rather nicely. No words could have added to that.”

Looked at that way, she was right. It was a very nice way to part company—if both parties were desirous of parting. But when one had had other ideas…

“
One
of us might have had a few more things to say,” he pointed out.

“
One
of us had ample time to say anything that needed saying,” she shot back.

He ground his teeth together. She was right again. He was the one who had procrastinated, trying to get up the nerve to suggest they not part at all. And considering the tone they had both just taken, now wasn’t an ideal time to mention it either. And then, seeing Casey’s mother, followed by her father, walk into that small lunchroom had a way of changing the direction of his thoughts.

“You brought your
parents
with you?”

She followed his gaze and smiled at the couple approaching them. “Actually, we just seem to be traveling in the same direction,” she told Damian. “My mother decided she’d like to do some major shopping in Chicago. My father wasn’t about to be separated from her again, when the last separation only just ended, so he had to come along. Of course, they assure me that my deciding to go to Chicago at this time had nothing to do with their making the trip as well.”

She rolled her eyes to show how much she believed that. He wasn’t amused. He had re
quested her help, not that of her whole family. But he was forgetting that she’d had no intention of letting him know that she was going to hunt for Jack. That was, if she really was—that hadn’t been made clear yet either.

Damian sighed. He simply had too many things to take exception to at the moment, and now that he no longer had the privacy to do so, he might as well keep his mouth shut. Except on one point…

“
Are
you going to look for Jack?”

“That was my intention,” Casey replied.

“But you don’t want my assistance? Don’t even want to see the detectives’ reports?”

“You’ve already pointed out how big the city is that he’s gone to ground in. Seems to me, the only way to ferret him out is to start thinking like he does. So no, reports on your detectives’ progress won’t help me none, so I don’t need to see them.”

“I seem to recall my assistance being of some help on at least one occasion of dealing with Jack. I didn’t ask you to get involved in this again to turn you loose where I couldn’t aid you if necessary.”

She sighed. Her father, having come up in time to hear Damian’s remark, said, “Now, if I had been assured of him backing you up, Casey, I probably could have talked your mother into shopping closer to home.”

And Courtney said, almost in the same breath, “Afternoon, Mr. Rutledge. I see you finally found her. Perhaps now you can offer us the comfort of your private car for the rest of the trip.”

Damian’s jaw almost dropped. He was rendered speechless again. They wanted to travel with him, but Casey didn’t? And her father would actually trust him to protect her? What the hell had happened to reverse their attitudes toward him since he’d left Waco?

He finally found his voice to answer, though somewhat hesitantly, since he was still waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him, proving he’d misunderstood.

“Certainly, ma’am,” he said. “It would be my pleasure to share the parlor car with the three of you.”

Casey’s lips pursed in displeasure. This obviously wasn’t her idea, nor did she care for it one little bit. Courtney smiled in acceptance, though, so apparently that settled the matter.

Chandos, of course, was noncommittal either way, his expression utterly neutral as usual. He might have just told Casey that he more or less trusted Damian to protect her, but he sure wasn’t going to verify that by word, look, or deed for Damian’s benefit.

Perhaps their opinions hadn’t changed all that much after all. He was reading more into it than was intended. And had he really offered to enclose himself in the small confines of a parlor car with Casey’s parents for several days? He had to be out of his mind.

C
asey and her mother took over the separate bed compartment in the parlor car. Chandos moved Damian’s few things out of there without asking, taking it for granted that he’d allow the ladies the privacy of that room. He would have, of course, but he would have liked to be asked.

But that was the tone those remaining few days assumed. The Stratons took a lot for granted; at least Casey’s parents did. Casey herself wasn’t very communicative—except with her parents. Damian got to see, firsthand, the easy relationship she shared with them.

It was Courtney Straton who made the time he spent with the three of them at least bearable. Her manner of gentility, so different from her daughter’s and husband’s, spoke of her social upbringing in her early years. She tried, continuously, to bring Damian into any conversations that were started in the main part of the car, which was where they spent most of their time each day. She encouraged him to talk about himself as well, and his father, and the company
that had been so long in his family. She even mentioned his mother…

Casey had blushed, and rightly so, when Courtney remarked, “Casey tells me your mother lives in Chicago. Perhaps we’ll get to meet her while we’re in the city.”

The look he gave Casey pretty much said,
And what else did you tell your parents that was none of their business?
But to Courtney, he merely replied, “I doubt it, ma’am. This isn’t a social visit, after all.”

And then there were those excruciatingly uncomfortable nights, after the ladies had retired behind the closed bedroom door, that he was left alone with Chandos Straton. The first night set the tone for the next as well, which was, they were simply going to ignore each other. Except for one remark that was said just after Chandos settled down on the long bench across the room from Damian.

“My wife is giving you the benefit of the doubt, thinks your determination speaks for itself. But I’ll be reserving judgment.”

Damian wasn’t going to let that cryptic statement pass. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“You figure it out, tenderfoot” was all Chandos replied before he turned over to go to sleep.

And so it went for the next three days. By the time the train pulled into Chicago, Damian actually felt as if he’d long been friends with Courtney. Not so with the other two, who both gave the impression they were merely suffering his presence. And he never did get to talk to
Casey alone again. One or the other of her parents was always at her side.

He recommended to them the hotel he had previously stayed at and intended to again, thinking that at least there he might find Casey alone at some point. But Casey would have refused even that. Her expression, when her mother said that was an excellent idea, was telling, but she didn’t try to reverse the decision.

There wouldn’t have been much point, actually, since it had already been agreed that if Casey did discover Jack’s whereabouts, she wasn’t to try to apprehend him alone—her father’s mandate, which she had grudgingly agreed to. Damian was to be kept apprised of her progress as well, and that would require their meeting frequently—which was when Courtney had suggested they might as well all gather each evening for dinner. Not how Damian would have preferred it, but where Casey’s time was concerned, he’d take what he could get.

Casey had also stated her immediate plans when she’d told Damian, “Jack’s gotten used to throwing your money around. He’s hiding, yes, but chances are he’s doing it in style. I’m going to start by questioning the employees of the higher-class rental agencies, as well as of the more expensive hotels. I’ll work down from there.”

Which meant that any assistance on his part wouldn’t be required, at least for the first few days. Even her father couldn’t foresee any trouble arising during this questioning phase.

As it turned out, Casey was in such a big
hurry to get Jack found so she could head back home, she didn’t show up for dinner the first night at the hotel, or the second. She’d left messages, though, that there were just so many people she needed to talk to, she didn’t have time to sit down to a full dinner, and would be continuing her interviews into the evening hours.

Chandos wasn’t a bit surprised. “When my daughter starts something, she digs her teeth in good.”

Damian was disgruntled, to say the least. He wanted Jack found, and as soon as possible. But he also wanted some time with Casey before she disappeared on him again. And since she refused to let him accompany her on these interrogations, he’d been counting on the agreed-upon dinner hour to spend with her.

She did show up on the third night, and in splendid array. The hotel offered a very elegant restaurant that was frequented not only by the hotel’s guests, but by many affluent residents of the city as well, who found this an ideal place to show off their expensive jewelry, expensive mistresses, or whatever else they took pride in.

But Casey put all the other ladies to shame with the simplicity of her lavender silk gown and a single black ribbon locket at her throat. Funny, how she seemed to grow more and more beautiful every time Damian saw her.

Tonight, she actually preceded her parents. When she saw that they hadn’t joined Damian yet, she slowed her approach, was probably thinking about making a quick retreat. But the look he gave her must have changed her mind—he’d damn well drag her to his table if he had
to, was what she gathered, and she wasn’t going to risk the scene such an outlandish act would cause. Good thing, because he didn’t care what kind of scenes he caused at that point.

He stood to seat her. Their waiter appeared immediately to offer her a choice of refreshments. Damian didn’t wait for him to leave before saying, “You look exceptionally beautiful tonight, Casey.”

She hadn’t expected a compliment. It produced a rosy blush. And before she could say anything, he added, “But then, I liked you in your jeans and poncho, too.”

That seemed to surprise her, but she still said nothing, possibly waiting for the waiter to leave first. The second they were alone, Damian had one more thing to add, however unwisely. “Actually, I liked you best when you were wearing nothing at all.”

Her blush turned bright scarlet. Her eyes swiftly dropped to the table and she hissed at him, “Are you
trying
to embarrass me?”

“No, just stating a few truths,” he replied huskily.

Her golden eyes came back up and locked with his. And he had the strangest feeling that in her mind’s eye she was seeing him naked as well. He was certainly picturing her that way, couldn’t stop the memories of their last night of lovemaking from filling his mind.

It was a breathless moment. He wanted to take her straight up to his room. He wanted…

“Damian, is that you?” A high-pitched squeal sounded. “Oh, it is! Whatever are you doing in Chicago without letting me know? You must
have arrived tonight, and decided to wait until the morning to call on me.”

Damian closed his eyes briefly in dread, then stood up to greet Luella Miller.

C
asey couldn’t believe her rotten luck. To go from that pulse-racing moment, when she actually thought Damian might be going to say something of an intimate nature, to hearing that jarring voice she had come to despise—yes, despise, just as she despised the owner of it for her petiteness, her glowing beauty, but mostly for her proprietary attitude where Damian was concerned.

Okay, so “despise” was a bit harsh, but Casey certainly didn’t like her. Yet the one person she’d hoped to never run across again was standing there gushing her surprise over finding Damian in Chicago. Hell, Casey had put Luella Miller so far from her mind, she’d forgotten the lady even lived in this city.

“I’m here on important business, Luella,” Damian was telling her. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for social amenities this trip.”

“Oh, really?” Luella said, staring daggers at Casey. “And who might this be?”

Now that was funny. Luella was jealous of
her? And she didn’t even recognize her. Which showed how superficial the woman was. She might give a man she was interested in her undivided attention, but anyone else didn’t merit even minimal scrutiny.

“Now I’m hurt, Luella, I really am, that you don’t remember me,” Casey said dryly.

“Oh, it’s you, Casey,” Luella sniffed. “Sorry, I thought you were—well, you know—one of those”—in a whisper now—“ladies of the street.”

She’d thought no such thing, was just being catty. But it didn’t make Casey no nevermind. She was about to excuse herself, in fact, and let these two get on with their reunion, when her mother and father showed up. She was stuck.

She actually had to sit through an entire dinner with Luella because the lady insinuated her company on them, and politeness precluded telling her to get lost. It reminded Casey too much of the time spent with Luella on the way to Fort Worth. Just as before, she monopolized any conversation, and managed to keep all talk centered on herself.

But Casey was definitely skipping dessert, had developed a headache she had no qualms about mentioning. And then Luella appeared to have found someone else she was acquainted with, and began craning her neck to see around the table next to them. With the slim chance that she might desert them and go off to plague someone else with her incessant chatter, Casey waited another moment before excusing herself.

“Oh, my, if this isn’t the most amazing coincidence,” Luella gasped. “Damian, I do believe
that’s your mother dining across the room there—and the dear woman hasn’t noticed you yet.”

Luella didn’t even bother to look to see what that statement did to Damian. She shot right to her feet, obviously intent on rectifying the “hasn’t noticed you” part. She screeched instead, as Damian’s hand gripped her arm and yanked her back into her seat.

She looked at him now, incredulously. She still wasn’t paying attention to the signs he was giving off, so hadn’t figured out yet that Damian was furious, and mostly with her.

“Have you gone mad?” she pouted.

“Quite possibly,” he gritted out. “And if you even think about approaching my mother again, then most definitely I have. If you had paid attention, Luella, when you thrust yourself into our private dinner, you would have heard me tell you I was here on business,
not
social discourse. If I have to be even plainer than that, it means I have no desire to see my mother at this or any other time.”

“Or me, obviously,” she said. Obviously she was expecting an immediate denial.

She didn’t get one. And that produced a becoming blush. She still wasn’t insulted enough to get up and leave, though, more’s the pity. Perhaps she was too dense to realize she
had
been insulted.

Courtney tried to ease the tension by mentioning dessert. Chandos was all but laughing. Casey continued to gaze worriedly at Damian. He’d looked toward the table where his mother apparently sat, the moment he finished blasting
Luella. And as tall as he was, he had no trouble seeing over the heads of the other patrons in between.

She knew the moment that his mother must have caught his eye. He went so still, she couldn’t detect a twitch, not even a breath out of him. And the pain in his eyes wrenched at her heart.

He got up and marched out of the restaurant. She got up and followed right behind him. She vaguely heard Luella say, “Well, I never. Not even a good-bye?” She figured her parents would explain—or not.

Damian went straight up to his room. He didn’t realize that Casey was behind him until he slammed the door shut, or tried to, but it didn’t slam, catching her instead as she walked into the room. He swung around as if he were ready for battle. He must have thought it was his mother who followed him, because the tension went out of him when he saw it was Casey.

“I wasn’t ready,” he said by way of explanation, as if she would know what he was talking about.

She did. “I know.”

“That silly woman could drive a saint to lose his patience,” he added.

“I know that, too.”

“But that’s not how I want to face my mother for the first time, already aggravated by someone else. I’ll need every bit of control I can muster to sit through whatever explanation she has to offer.”

“You’re right. If you’re going to face her, do it free of emotion.”

He nodded, dragging an irritated hand through his hair. And then his intense gray gaze impaled her, the pain back in his eyes.

“She recognized me, Casey,” he said in a bewildered tone. “She hasn’t seen me since I was a child. How in hell did she recognize me?”

“Maybe the same way you recognized her,” Casey offered hesitantly.

“No, she hasn’t changed that much. Amazingly, she really hasn’t. A little gray on her temples, but hardly any wrinkles to change that lovely face I remember. But I was ten when she left. There is nothing about me now to resemble the child I was then.”

“Damian, a mother can have certain instincts, intuitions. And you were staring at her a mite intensely. It’s not unreasonable to think she could make a lucky guess and figure out who you could be.”

“Yes, of course. That must be it,” he said with a sigh, “Not that it matters,” he insisted lamely.

She wanted to hug him in that moment, but didn’t. “Will you be all right?”

“Certainly. And please extend my apologies to your parents for my abrupt departure.”

She smiled gently. “They aren’t insensitive. No need for apologies.” She turned, reached for the doorknob.

“Casey?”

She stopped, held her breath. But he didn’t get to say whatever he had meant to. The door hadn’t been closed completely when Casey entered the room. Another person entered now, stepping carefully around it, looking past Casey to fix her eyes on her son.

“It is you, isn’t it, Damian?” the woman said hopefully. “Have you come here to see me?”

Casey swung around to catch Damian’s reaction. He had none. He wasn’t going to give his mother even an inkling of his feelings.

“No,” he replied tonelessly. “I’m here to find my father’s murderer.”

She sighed. “Yes, I had heard of his death. I’m very sorry.”

“No need to be, madam. He was nothing to you, only a small part of your youth.”

Now that was telling, fraught with resentment, no matter how neutral the tone. The woman merely nodded, perhaps trying to control emotions of her own.

“Forgive me, then, for intruding,” she said in a whisper as she turned to leave.

Only Casey saw the tears in her eyes. She glanced swiftly toward Damian, but he’d already turned his back, and it was a stiff back. Fists were clenched at his sides. Now wasn’t the time to mention those tears.