A Texan on Her Doorstep
Stella Bagwell
Can the doctor help the stubborn sheriff mend his broken heart?As deputy sheriff, Mac usually gave difficult news — but now he’s about to get it. He’s planning to confront his long-lost mother — until he’s blocked by her formidable doctor. Ileana isn’t about to let anyone stress her patient.But she can’t help being there for this tormented man. A sexy stranger who sees past her plain-Jane façade to the woman who yearns for a partner, a protector… a lover. In helping Mac search for a family, could Ileana end up with a man of her own?
“From the first moment we met, I’ve been wondering something about you.”
Ileana tried not to shiver as his gaze trailed over her face. “What is that?” she asked, unaware that her own voice had dropped to a husky whisper.
“How you would look—like this.”
With one smooth movement, Mac’s hand moved to the back of her head and released the barrette holding her hair. The silky tresses spilled onto her shoulders and tumbled against her cheeks.
She tried to make herself step back, to admonish him for being so forward and impertinent, but all she managed to do was stand paralysed and breathless as his long fingers pushed into her hair.
Stella Bagwell has written close to seventy novels. She credits her longevity in the business to her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way.
A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer by the horns and the feet. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the South Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love.
The couple have a son, who is a maths teacher and athletic coach.
A Texan On
Her Doorstep
By
Stella Bagwell
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)
To my brother Lloyd Henry Cook, who always insisted I could be anything I wanted to be. And to my brother Charles Cook, who pushed me to send off my first manuscript. Without either of you, I wouldn’t be a writer today. I love you guys and thank you for believing in your sister.
Prologue
The worn, yellowed envelopes bound with twine had been placed on Phineas McCleod’s kitchen table more than an hour ago; yet he’d not touched them. Nor had his brother, Ripp. Both men had skirted around the stack of papers as though they were a coiled rattlesnake.
For the past several months, Mac, the nickname everyone called Phineas, and Ripp had searched for any trail of their mother, Frankie, who’d walked out on the family nearly thirty years ago. And up until yesterday, when Oscar Andrews, an old family acquaintance of the McCleods, had appeared on Ripp’s doorstep with letters addressed to his late mother, Betty Jo, their searching had gone in vain.
Now, because of the letters exchanged between Betty Jo and Frankie, the brothers had more than clues. They had an address, a definite place to look for Frankie McCleod. Yet strangely neither of them was eager to race to the spot or even read the letters. Doubts about the search for her had settled like silt in the bottom of a wash pan.
Now, as Mac roamed aimlessly around his modest kitchen, he glanced over at his younger brother. Since Ripp had arrived an hour ago, he’d done little more than stare out the window. Obviously, learning about the existence of Frankie’s letters had shaken him. Hell, it had done more than shake Mac; it had practically knocked him to his knees. Two deputy sheriffs, who’d faced all sorts of danger, were now jolted by the idea of seeing a woman who had been out of their lives for twenty-nine years.
“One of us has to go to this ranch and meet with her, Ripp, and it should be me,” Mac said. “You have a family now. A wife, a son and a baby daughter. They need you at home. I don’t have anything to hold me here, except my job. And Sheriff Nichols will give me time off. Hell, I’ve got so much sick leave coming to me I could take off a year and still not use it all up.”
Ripp’s snort was meant to sound humorous, but it fell a bit short. “That’s because you’re too mean to get sick.” His expression dry, he looked over his shoulder at Mac. “But who knows—after this you just might need a good doctor.”
Ripp didn’t have to explain that “this” meant finding Frankie McCleod. After all this time without her, Mac couldn’t think of the woman as their mother. Not in the regular sense of the word.
Mac said, “Well, we both decided after Sheriff Travers told you that story about Frankie calling Dad, asking to come home, that maybe we should try to find her. See if his story was true and what really happened back then. Are you having second thoughts?”
Groaning, Ripp turned away from the window. “Hell yes! I keep thinking that maybe not knowing about her is better than learning that she really didn’t want us.”
Mac thrust a hand through his dark hair as he stared at the stack of letters. Each one had been written by Frankie Cantrell and mailed to Betty Jo Andrews, who’d lived in Goliad County all her life until she’d died three months ago from a massive stroke. Her son, Oscar, had been going through her things, getting her estate in order, when he’d discovered the letters in an old cedar chest. Frankie’s last name had changed from McCleod to Cantrell, but Oscar had glanced through one of the letters and spotted Mac’s and Ripp’s names. As a result, he’d thought the brothers would be interested to see them.
Interested? The existence of the letters had stunned them. Betty Jo had certainly kept her correspondence with Frankie a deep secret. If anyone else had known about it, they’d not disclosed it to Mac or Ripp.
“I don’t agree,” Mac finally replied. “The not knowing is bad, Ripp. Besides, if it turns out she didn’t want us, then it will be easy for me to say good riddance and put the matter out of my mind once and for all.”
“That’s cold.”
Mac let out a long breath. “I can’t help it, Ripp. I remember watching her pack up and drive away. That does something to a ten-year-old kid.”
Walking across the room, Ripp placed a comforting hand on his brother’s strong shoulder. “We don’t have to do this, Mac. We’ll always have each other. If that’s enough for you, then it’s enough for me.”
Mac’s throat tightened as he looked in his brother’s eyes. While growing up, the two had clung to each other more than most siblings. And down through the years that closeness hadn’t wavered. Mac didn’t have to think twice about his brother’s love. Ripp would always be there for him, no matter who or what came and went in their lives.
“We both deserve to know the truth, Ripp. And I’m gonna find it.” Mac gestured to the letters. “I’ll take one of those with me for evidence. You can read the rest while I’m gone.”
Ripp shook his head. “We’ll read them together. Once you get back.”
“We might not want to read them then,” Mac countered soberly.
“Find the woman first, Mac. And then we’ll make a decision about her.”
Chapter One
“Dr. Sanders, if you have a moment could you come to the nurse’s station? There’s—someone here who I think you need to see.”
Ileana Sanders frowned slightly. It wasn’t like Renae to sound evasive. In the few years that Ileana had known her, she’d been an excellent nurse who didn’t waste time playing guessing games.
“I’m working on a chart, Renae. Who is it? Do they need medical attention?”
“No. He—looks pretty healthy to me.” There was a pause on the phone, and when Renae’s voice returned, Ileana could barely hear her whisper. “Get down here now, Doc. If you don’t, I’m not sure I can keep him out of Ms. Cantrell’s room!”
“I’ll be right there.”
Dropping the phone back in its cradle, Ileana grabbed a white lab coat from the back of her chair and left the little cubicle she used as an office while making her hospital rounds.
From the internal medicine wing of the building, Ileana had to walk down a long, wide corridor, then make a left turn and walk half that distance again to reach the nurse’s station.
Along the way, she met several of the more mobile patients walking the hallway. They all spoke to her, and she gave each one an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up on their progress. One of the perks of working in a smaller town, she thought, was knowing most everyone who walked through the hospital doors.
But the moment Ileana turned the corner and peered toward the nurse’s station, she definitely didn’t recognize the tall man standing at the counter. Even though it was exceptionally cold outside, he was without a jacket, making it possible for her to see that he was dressed all in blue denim. A chocolate-brown cowboy hat was slanted low over his forehead and covered hair a shade darker than the felt. And in spite of the lengthy distance, she could see he was a walking mass of lean, hard muscle.
He must have heard the hurried click of her heels on the shiny tile, because he suddenly turned in her direction, and for one brief moment, Ileana felt her breath catch, her heart jump. His features were chiseled perfection, his skin burned brown by the sun. Authority was stamped all over him, and she knew, without being told, that he was a stranger to Ruidoso. There was a subtle edginess about him that was different from the locals.
Instinctively, Ileana’s steps slowed as she tried to regain her composure, while to her left, Renae swiftly walked from behind the counter to intercept her.
“Dr. Sanders, this is Mr. McCleod. He’s traveled all the way from Texas to see Ms. Cantrell.”
His dark brown eyes were sliding over Ileana with a lazy interest that left her uncomfortably hot beneath her lab coat; yet she did her best to appear cool and collected as she stepped up to the man and thrust out her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. McCleod,” she said with a faint smile.
His big hand closed around hers, and Ileana was acutely aware of warm, calloused skin and firm pressure from his fingers.
“Call me Mac,” he said. “Are you Ms. Cantrell’s attending physician?”
The easy smile on his face was a tad sexy and a whole lot charming. As Ileana drew in a deep breath, she realized she’d never met this man. Because he was clearly unforgettable.
Inclining her head, she hoped she didn’t look as awed as she felt. Which was really a quite ridiculous reaction on her part. She’d lived on the Bar M Ranch all her life. She’d been around rugged men throughout her thirty-eight years, and some of them had been darn good-looking with plenty of rough sex appeal. Yet none of them had grabbed her attention like this one. This was one striking cowboy.
“Yes, I’m Ms. Cantrell’s doctor. Are you a friend of hers?”
Beneath his dark tan, she watched a hint of red color work its way up his throat and over his face. His embarrassed reaction wasn’t the norm, but Ileana had certainly contended with worse. Everyone reacted differently when a friend or loved one became ill. Some got downright angry, quick to blame the doctor, even God, for the misfortune. She’d learned to take it all in stride.
The aim of his brown gaze landed somewhere near her feet rather than on her face, making her curiosity about the man go up another notch.
“Uh—not exactly,” he said.
His face lifted, and Ileana couldn’t help but notice the faint, challenging thrust of his chin, the resolution in his eyes. She shivered inwardly. For all his smooth manners, she instinctively sensed Mac McCleod had a very tough side to him.
“Nurse Walker tells me you’re not allowing Ms. Cantrell to have visitors right now.”
“That’s right,” she said, then feeling she needed to keep their conversation private, Ileana touched a hand to his arm and gestured to a waiting area several feet away from the nurse’s station. “Why don’t we step over here, and I’ll explain.”
He didn’t say anything as he followed her over to a small grouping of armchairs and couches covered in green and red fabric, but once they stood facing each other, he didn’t wait for her to speak.
“Look, Dr. Sanders, I’ve traveled a considerable distance to see Ms. Cantrell. At the Chaparral Ranch, I was told by a maid who answered the door that she was hospitalized, so I drove straight here. All I’m asking is a few short minutes with the woman. Surely that couldn’t hurt,” he added with a persuasive little smile.
Even though he seemed pleasant enough, there was something about the way he said “the woman” that left Ileana uneasy. Besides sounding a bit disrespectful, there was no warmth, no fondness inflected in the words. Had he and Frankie had a falling-out over something? Did he actually know her?
“I’m very sorry, Mr. McCleod. Perhaps you should have called before you made the long drive. Ms. Cantrell isn’t up for visits. Presently, her condition is very fragile. The only people I’m allowing into her room are her son, daughter and father-in-law.”
For one brief moment his jaw hardened, but just as quickly a smile transformed his face, and Ileana felt certain he was deliberately trying to charm her into letting him enter Frankie’s room. The idea was very odd and even more worrisome.
“What about her husband?” he asked.
This brought Ileana’s brows up. Clearly he wasn’t a close acquaintance of Frankie’s. Otherwise, he would have known that Lewis, her husband, had passed away a little more than a year ago.
“I’m sorry if you didn’t know. Ms. Cantrell is a widow now. Lewis died about a year ago.”
His expression suddenly turned uncomfortable, and Ileana was relieved to see that the man did have a streak of compassion in him.
“Uh—sorry. No, I didn’t know.”
“Have you spoken with Quint or Alexa, Ms. Cantrell’s children? Perhaps they can help you,” she said.
Quint and Alexa. Mac mulled the two names over in his mind. If Frankie Cantrell was Mac’s missing mother, and from every indication it appeared that she was, that would make Quint and Alexa his half siblings. The idea knocked him for a loop. For some reason all these years, he’d never considered the idea of Frankie having more children. A stupid, infantile idea to cling to, he supposed. But if she’d not wanted to be a mother to Mac and Ripp, why would she have had more children?
“No. I’ve not spoken to either of them,” he told her. “I—I’m not sure there were any family members at home when I visited the ranch.”
“Well, both of Frankie’s children have their hands full with trying to watch over their mother and keep up with their jobs, too. Alexa works in Santa Fe at the state capital, and Quint runs the ranch here in Ruidoso. I expect he’ll be around later tonight. If you’d like to wait. Or contact Abe Cantrell, her father-in-law.”
Frustration made him want to howl, but he kept the reaction to himself. This woman wouldn’t understand. And frankly, she was looking at him as though he were one of those criminals he often locked behind bars. Which was a strange reaction for Mac, who was used to women sidling up to him with a warm, inviting smile on their faces. He liked to flirt but hadn’t gotten serious in a long time.
Hell, Mac, she’s a professional. She isn’t going to be flashing you a sexy smile or flirting with you.
She was a doctor. And from the looks of her, she’d never heard the words sex or glamour. She was plainer than vanilla yogurt and appeared to be one step away from a convent.
Except for a pair of deep blue eyes and naturally pink lips, her round face was pale and devoid of any color. Dark, reddish-brown hair was brushed tightly back from her forehead and fastened in a long ponytail at her nape. The starched stiff lab coat hid her clothing, along with the shape of her body. Even so, Mac sensed she was as slender as a stick and as fragile as the petal of an orchid.
“I’m not sure I can wait,” he told her. “You see, I was planning on talking to Ms. Cantrell about an—urgent matter.” Besides, Mac wasn’t ready to meet the man who might be his half brother. He’d only arrived in Ruidoso, New Mexico, a few hours ago. He’d driven straight out to the Chaparral Ranch in hopes of finding Frankie and putting the whole matter of her disappearance to rest. Now it looked as though there wasn’t going to be any meeting or answers of any sort.
Dr. Sanders—Ileana, he’d heard the nurse call her—shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “But I’m only allowing family members to enter Ms. Cantrell’s room and even they are only allowed five minutes with her.”
“Is she in the intensive care unit?”
The woman’s shoulders drew back, as though remembering privacy laws for patients. He wondered just how well this doctor knew the woman. Maybe Frankie had been a patient of hers for a long time, but that didn’t necessarily mean Dr. Sanders knew all that much about Frankie’s personal life.
“Not exactly. She’s in a room where she’s monitored more closely than a regular room. That’s why I made the decision to limit her visitors to relatives only. People can be well meaning, but they don’t realize how exhausting talking can be to someone who’s ill.”
Mac’s visit hadn’t meant to be well meaning or anything close to it. Maybe that made him a hard-nosed bastard, but then in his eyes, Frankie had been more than callous when she’d walked out of Mac’s and Ripp’s lives. She’d promised to come back, but that promise had never been kept. Two little boys, ages eight and ten, had not understood how their mother could leave them behind. And now that they were grown men, ages thirty-seven and thirty-nine, they still couldn’t understand how she could have been so indifferent to her own flesh and blood.
Mac’s gaze settled on the doctor’s face, and Frankie McCleod was suddenly forgotten. Plain or not, there was something about Ileana Sanders’s soft lips, something about the dark blue pools of her eyes that got to him. Like a quiet, stark desert at sunset, she pulled at a soft spot inside him. Before he realized what he was doing, his glance dropped to her left hand.
No ring or any sign of where one had once been. Apparently she was single. But then, he should have known that without looking for a ring. She had an innocent, almost shy demeanor about her, as though no man had ever woken her or touched her in any way.
Hell, Mac, her sex life or lack of one has nothing to do with you. Plain Janes weren’t his style. He liked outgoing, talkative girls who weren’t afraid to show a little leg or cleavage and drink a beer from a barstool.
Yeah. Like Brenna, he thought dourly. She’d showed him all that and more during their brief, volatile marriage. Since then he stuck to women who knew the score.
Sucking in a deep breath, he tried again. “I guess you’d say I’m more than a visitor, Dr. Sanders. I—well—you might consider me…a relative.”
Even if Renae hadn’t told her that the man was from Texas she would have guessed. Not just from the casual arrogance in the way he carried himself, but the faint drawl and drop of the g at the end of his words were a dead giveaway.
“Oh? I didn’t realize Frankie had relatives living in Texas.”
“We haven’t been together—as a family—in a long time. And we just learned that she was living in New Mexico.”
Totally confused now, Ileana gestured to one of the couches. “Let’s have a seat, Mr. McCleod. And then maybe you can better explain why you’re here in Ruidoso.”
Without waiting for his compliance, Ileana walked over and took a seat. Thankfully, he followed and seated himself on the same couch, a polite distance away.
As he stretched out his legs, her gaze caught sight of his hands smoothing the top of his thighs. Like the rest of him, they were big and brown, the fingers long and lean. There was no wedding ring, but then Ileana had already marked the man single in her mind. She doubted any woman had or ever could tame him. He looked like a maverick and then some.
With a sigh she tried to disguise as a cough, she turned toward him and said, “Okay. Maybe you’d better tell me a little about yourself and your connection to Frankie. None of this is making sense to me.”
He glanced over to a wall of plate glass. Snow was piled against the curbs and beneath the shade of the trees and shrubs. It was as cold as hell here in the mountains, and being in this hospital made Mac feel even colder. At the moment, South Texas felt like a world away.
“I imagine right about now you’re thinking I’m some sort of nutcase. But I’m actually a deputy sheriff from Bee County, Texas. And I have a brother, Ripp, who’s a deputy, too, over in Goliad County.”
Ileana inclined her head to let him know that she understood. “So you’re both Texas lawmen who work in different counties.”
“That’s right. So was our father, Owen. But he’s been dead for several years now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. And your mother?”
His gaze flickered away from hers. “We’re not certain. You see, my brother and I think Frankie Cantrell is our mother.”
If a tornado had roared through the hospital lobby, Ileana couldn’t have been more shocked, and she struggled to keep her mouth from falling open.
“Your mother! Is this some sort of joke?”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?”
No, she thought with dismay. He looked torn; he looked as though he’d rather be anywhere but here. And most of all, he appeared to be genuine.
“What makes you think she’s your mother?”
Clearly uncomfortable with her question, he scooted to the edge of the cushion. “It’s too long a story to take up your time. I’d better be going. I’ll—come back later. When you—well, when you think it’ll be okay for me to talk to her.”
For a moment, Ileana forgot that she was a doctor and this man was a complete stranger. Frankie and her family had been friends with the Sanderses for many years. In fact, Ileana’s mother, Chloe, was worried sick praying that her dear friend would pull through. If this man had something to do with Frankie, Ileana wanted to know about it. She needed to know about it, in order to keep her patient safe and cocooned from any stress.
Grabbing his arm, she prevented him from rising to his feet. “I’ve finished my rounds, Mr. McCleod. I have time for a story.”
He glanced toward the plate glass windows surrounding the quiet waiting area. “There’s not a whole lot of daylight left. I’m sure it’s time for you to go home.”
“I can find my way in the dark,” she assured him.
Her response must have surprised him, because he looked at her with arched brows.
“All right,” he said bluntly. “I’ll try to make it short. When I was ten and my brother eight, Frankie McCleod, our mother, left the family.” Reaching to his pocket, he pulled out a leather wallet and extracted a photo. As he handed the small square to Ileana, he said, “That was twenty-nine years ago, and we never heard from her again. At least us boys never heard from her. We can’t be certain about our father. He never spoke of her. But a few days ago, we found out that Frankie Cantrell had been corresponding through the years with an old friend of hers in the town where we lived. She has to be Frankie McCleod Cantrell.”
Dropping her hand away from his arm, Ileana took the photo from him and closely examined the grainy black and white image. Two young boys, almost the same height and both with dark hair, stood next to a young woman wearing an A-line dress and chunky sandals. Her long hair was also dark and parted down the middle. If this was Frankie Cantrell, she’d changed dramatically. But then, nearly thirty years could do that to a person.
“Oh, dear, this is—well, my family and I have been friends with the Cantrells for years. We never heard she had another family. At least, I didn’t. I can’t say the same for Mother, though.” She handed the photo back to him, while wondering if it was something he always carried with him. “The woman in the picture—she’s very beautiful. I can’t be sure that it’s Frankie. I was only a small child when she first came here. I don’t recall how she looked at that time.”
He lifted his hat from his head and pushed a hand through his hair. It was thick, the color of a dark coffee bean and waved loosely against his head. The shine of it spoke of good health, but Ileana wasn’t looking at him as a doctor. No, for the first time in years she was looking at a man as a woman, and the realization shook her even more than his strange story.
He released a heavy breath, then said, “I wasn’t expecting to run into this sort of roadblock—I mean, with Frankie being ill. I’m sure you’re thinking I should have called first. But this…well, it’s not something you can just blurt out over the phone. Besides, if I’d alerted her I was coming, she might have been…conveniently away.”
Ileana didn’t bother to hide her frown. “Not for a minute. Frankie isn’t that sort of woman.”
He looked at her. “Do you know what kind of woman she was thirty years ago?”
The question wasn’t sharp, but there was an intensity to his voice that caused her cheeks to warm. Or was it just the husky note in his drawl that was making her feel all hot and shivery at the same time? Either way, she had to get a grip on herself and figure out how best to handle this man. If that was possible.
“No. But I hardly think a person’s moral values could change that much.”
Mac McCleod rose to his feet. “A person can change overnight, Doctor. You know that as well as I.”
Not the human heart, she wanted to tell him. But singing Frankie’s praises to this man wouldn’t help matters at the moment. She wasn’t sure what would help this cowboy or how to provide it—other than to let him see Frankie, which at this point was out of the question. If this man was Frankie’s son, the shock of seeing him might send her patient into cardiac arrest.
Rising to her feet, she said, “What are your plans? Do you have a place to stay?”
As soon as the questions slipped past her lips, she realized they were probably too personal. Yet she was moved by his plight.
“I have a room rented at a hotel here in town.” His dark gaze landed smack on her face. “The rest depends on you.”
The man would be leaving the hospital in a few minutes. Her heartbeat should have been returning to its normal pace; instead it was laboring as though she was climbing nearby Sierra Blanca.
“I’m not sure I understand, Mr. McCleod.”
A grin suddenly dimpled his cheeks, and she felt like an idiot as her breath caught in her throat.
“I have a feeling we’re going to get to know one another very well, Doc. You might as well start calling me Mac.”
Ileana cleared her throat. “All right—Mac. Why do your plans depend on me?”
He folded his arms against his chest as his gaze lazily inspected her. For the first time in years, Ileana was horribly aware of her bare face, the homeliness of her plain appearance.
“I can’t leave town until I see Ms. Cantrell, and right now it looks as though you’re calling the shots as to when that might be,” he said.
Ileana not only felt like an idiot but she needed to add imbecile to the self-description. Normally, her mind was sharp, but this man seemed to be turning her brain to useless gray pudding.
“Oh—uh—yes.” Hating herself for getting so flustered, she threw her attention into digging a prescription pad and pen from her lab coat pocket. “Do you have a phone number you can give me? Just in case Ms. Cantrell’s condition changes.”
He gave his cell phone number to her, then asked, “Are you expecting her to improve in the next day or two—at least, enough for visitors?”
As Ileana folded the piece of paper with the phone number, she carefully chose her words. “Honestly, no. And that’s if no complications pop up.”
“You do expect her to survive, don’t you?”
There was a real look of concern on his face, and Ileana tried to imagine what he must be going through at this moment. He’d traveled hundreds of miles to search for a woman who might be his mother, only to find her desperately ill.
She reached across the small space separating them and folded her hand around his. “I’m doing all I can to make sure she does.”
Was it surprise or confusion she saw flickering in his brown eyes before he glanced away? Either way she could see he wasn’t nearly as cool as he wanted her to believe. The idea drew him to her just that much more. She knew what it was like to try to hide her emotions, to not allow people to see that she was hurting or troubled.
“Thank you for giving me your time,” he murmured. “I’ll be checking back with you.”
Dropping her hand, she stepped back. “You’re very welcome.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Sanders.”
He cast her one last look, then turned and strode quickly toward an exit that would take him to the parking lot.
As Ileana watched him walk away, she wondered why he’d called her Ms. Sanders. Everyone, even those who had known her for years, didn’t think of her as a woman. She was Doc or Doctor. A physician and nothing more.
“Who was that?”
At the sound of Renae’s voice, Ileana turned her head to see the nurse had walked up beside her. Both women continued to watch Mac McCleod as he disappeared through the revolving door.
Ileana bit back a sigh. “That was trouble. A big dose of it.”
Chapter Two
“Ripp, I must have been crazy when I told you to stay home and let me come out here,” Mac said into the cell phone. “Nothing is going right.”
Two hours had passed since Mac left the hospital, and during that time, he’d continually tried to call his brother back in Texas. But Ripp, and the majority of the sheriff’s department, had been on a manhunt most of the evening for a hit-and-run driver. Subsequently, Ripp had just now found time to return his call.
“What do you mean?” Ripp asked. “Did you find the ranch okay?”
“I did,” Mac answered as he sat on the side of the hotel bed, his elbows resting on his knees. “A maid was the only person I talked to. She informed me that Ms. Cantrell was in the hospital in Ruidoso.”
“Hospital?”
The shock in Ripp’s voice mirrored Mac’s feelings. That Frankie might be in ill health or dead was something that neither brother had really wanted to consider. After all, if this Frankie were really their mother, she would only be about sixty years old. But a relatively young age didn’t always equal good health.
“Yeah. I drove back to Ruidoso and went to the hospital thinking I could talk to her there. No such luck. Her doctor says she’s too ill to see me.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“The doctor wouldn’t tell me much. I was so damned aggravated at the moment that I can’t remember everything she said regarding Frankie’s health.”
“She?”
“Frankie’s doctor. It’s a woman. And from what she told me, her family and the Cantrells have been friends for years. She—uh—told me that Frankie has a son and daughter. Quint and Alexa, I think she called them.”
“Oh.” Several long moments passed as Ripp digested this news, and then he finally asked, “Did this doctor know anything about Frankie’s past?”
Ripp’s question caused the image of Dr. Sanders to parade to the front of Mac’s mind. She’d been as plain as white flour. The type of woman he normally wouldn’t glance at twice. Yet her gentleness had touched him in a way that had been totally unexpected.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I asked. She doesn’t know anything about it. From what she says, Frankie is a respected woman. That ought to tell you the doctor is in the dark.”
Ripp sighed. “We don’t really know what Frankie is, Mac. That’s why you’re there. To find out. So when did this doctor think you might be able to see Frankie?”
“Several days, at least.”
“Oh. Well, you might as well come home, Mac. There’s no use in you hanging around Ruidoso for that long. Or do you think you ought to see her children?”
“And say what?” Mac asked sarcastically. “Hi, y’ all, I’m your half brother?”
Ripp growled back at him. “What the hell is the matter with you, Mac? You’re nearly forty years old! It’s not like you’re that ten-year-old little boy, staring out the window with tears on your cheeks. We’re not going to let the woman keep hurting us, are we?”
Mac shoved out a heavy breath. His brother was right. He had to get a grip on his emotions and view this whole thing as a man, not that little boy who’d had his heart ripped out so long ago.
“I tell you, Ripp. The news that she had a son and daughter knocked my boots out from under me. I just never imagined her having other babies. Did you? I mean, if she didn’t want us, why the heck would she have had more children? Doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.”
“We don’t know that she didn’t want us, Mac. Dad told Rye that she wanted us.”
“Hell,” Mac muttered. “Rye was probably just trying to make you feel better. You’d been stabbed with a butcher knife at the time, remember? He probably thought you couldn’t handle any more pain.”
Ripp chuckled under his breath. “I can handle anything you can take and more, big brother.”
In spite of his frustration, a smile tugged at Mac’s lips. If anyone could make him forget his troubles, it was his brother. And even though they were sometimes as different as night and day, there was a bond between them tougher than barbed wire.
“Yeah, you probably can,” he told him as he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. He was getting hungry. Besides that, the small hotel room was beginning to close in on him. “Look, Ripp, I’m gonna go out and find something to eat. It’s been a hell of a day, and I’m beat. I’ll call you tomorrow—after I find out more.”
“So you’re not coming home?”
“No way. I’ve started on this journey and I don’t mean to cut it short. I’m going to camp in the hospital until Dr. Sanders gets her belly full of me. She’ll have to give in sooner or later.”
“Poor woman. She’s not going to know what hit her,” Ripp murmured more to himself than to Mac. “Just try to be your charming self, Mac. We don’t want anyone out there thinking we’re a pair of arrogant Texans.”
Mac chuckled. “Why not—we are, aren’t we?”
“Go eat. I’ve got to go help Lucita. Elizabeth is having a squalling fit about something. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
His brother cut the call, and Mac closed the instrument in his hand. Ripp had a beautiful wife, a twelve-year-old son and a baby daughter. His family adored him. He had something to live for, something to come home to at night. He was blessed. And Mac was happy for him.
Yet there were times that Mac looked at his brother and wondered what it would feel like to have those same things. Oh, yeah, he’d had a wife once. But Brenna hadn’t been a wife in the real sense of the word. She’d been more like a permanent date. Someone to go out with for a night of fun. Someone to have sex with. Giving him children had not been in her plans. And giving him love, the sort that came from deep within a person, was something she’d been incapable of. But then, Mac couldn’t put all the blame on Brenna for their failed marriage. At first he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted—a party girl. And for a while he’d been perfectly content with their life together. Then as time went by, the partying had begun to wear thin, and his life and marriage started to look more and more shallow. He’d begun to yearn for something more lasting and meaningful. Like raising kids in a real home. Brenna hadn’t married him under those terms, and when he’d asked her to change, she’d laughed all the way to the office of a divorce lawyer.
Now, after that humiliating lesson, he felt like a fool for ever thinking a good timin’ guy like him had once dreamed he could be a father to a house full of kids. Now he told himself it was better to simply enjoy women on brief, but frequent, occasions and forget about ever having a family.
Several miles east of Ruidoso, smack in the middle of the Hondo Valley, Ileana shifted down her pickup truck as it rattled across the low wooden bridge that crossed the Hondo River. The truck was old, and the speedometer had rolled over so many times that she’d lost count. For the past two years her father, Wyatt, had pestered her to buy a new one. After all, she had heaps of money and not a lot to do with it.
But Ileana didn’t want a new truck. What would be the use of shaking it over a dirt road every day? she’d argued. Besides, why did she need a new vehicle when the only place she ever went was to work and back home? She was a practical person, and when something worked as it should, she didn’t see any point in changing it.
Across the river, the dirt road made a gradual climb into open meadows dotted with ponderosa and piñon pine. On either side of the road, cattle and horses stood at hay mangers, chomping alfalfa in the falling twilight of a late February day.
The Bar M Ranch had been Ileana’s home for all her life and her mother’s before that. Her grandfather, Tomas Murdock, had built the place from the ground up and turned it into one of the most profitable ranches in southern New Mexico.
But the Bar M hadn’t been her grandfather’s only interest. He’d been a gambler and a bit of a womanizer, the result of which had produced illegitimate twins. The babies had been left on the doorstep of the Bar M Ranch house, and for weeks no one had known who’d parented them. It had been a shocking event that had rocked all of Lincoln County.
So Ileana wasn’t a stranger to odd stories, and the one that Mac McCleod had told her this evening—well, it sounded like more than an odd circumstance to her. Could he possibly be a son from Frankie’s past life? And if he hung around like he’d promised, how would the woman react to seeing him again?
The questions had been stewing in Ileana’s head ever since Mac had left the hospital, and now she decided she couldn’t go home to her little place on the mountain until she stopped by the main ranch house and had a talk with her mother. If anyone might know about Frankie’s past, it would be Chloe.
Five minutes later, she parked the truck behind the pink stucco hacienda and entered a gate that opened to a center courtyard. In the summer months, her parents were always having barbecues and other parties. Her brother, Adam, and his wife, Maureen, often brought their family to join in the fun. So did her sister, Anna, and her husband, Miguel. Even Ileana’s aunts, Justine and Rose, made frequent trips to the Bar M with their grand-children. The crowd of family and friends made the oval swimming pool and courtyard a lively place. But this evening, a cold wind was whipping through the bare garden and ruffling the plastic cover over the pool. The lawn chairs were stacked beneath the covered ground-level porch that followed the square shape of the house.
When Ileana stepped inside the kitchen, she found Cesar, her mother’s longtime cook, laying out plates and silverware on a round pine table.
The old cowboy looked up and smiled as he spotted Ileana. “Good evenin’, Doc. You stayin’ for supper?”
Ileana walked over to the tall, wiry man and kissed his leathery cheek. From the time Cesar had been fifteen years old, he’d worked on the Bar M. After forty years of dealing with fractious horses and several broken bones to show for it, Chloe had relegated him to the kitchen. Now after twenty years of stirring up ranch grub, he could safely be called a hell of a good cook.
“I hadn’t planned on it, Cesar, but if you have plenty, I will. Where’s Mother? Is she in from the barn yet?”
“She came in a few minutes ago. You might find her in the den.”
“Thanks,” Ileana told him, then quickly left the kitchen.
The den was quiet and so was the living room. Ileana eventually found Chloe in her bedroom changing into clean clothes.
“Hi, honey!” Chloe said with a bright smile. “You must have stopped by ‘cause you knew I’d be lonely tonight.”
Ileana sat down on a cedar chest positioned at the foot of a large, varnished pine bed. “Lonely? Isn’t Dad here?”
The petite woman finished the last button on her blouse and reached up to whip the towel off her wet hair. Chloe had been a horse lover since she was old enough to sit in the saddle, and she’d made a life breeding and training racing stock. The job was physically strenuous, and now that Chloe was sixty-two, Ileana was beginning to wonder how long she could keep up with the demands of the business. But though she might be small in stature, Chloe was an iron lady. Ileana figured, God willing, her mother would still be working up into her eighties.
“Sanders Gas Exploration has just purchased a competing company, and your father has gone to Oklahoma to tie up all the loose paperwork.”
Ileana was incredulous. At a time when her father should have been slowing down, he seemed to be going hell-bent for leather. “He’s expanding? Again? Mom, when are you two going to retire and travel the world?”
Chloe laughed as she briskly rubbed her short auburn hair. “Honey, don’t ever look for your parents to go galloping around the world for any length of time. Maybe a short vacation now and then. We have too much we want to do.”
“But it’s work,” Ileana complained.
Chloe settled a pointed look at her daughter. “And isn’t that what your life is all about?”
Ileana certainly couldn’t argue that point. Most every waking hour she spent at her private medical clinic or at the hospital. Even if she wasn’t a workaholic, traveling and socializing wasn’t her style.
“Okay. So I can’t make that argument. But as a doctor I can tell you to slow down.”
Chloe laughed. “And as your mother, I can tell you to quit being so fussy.” She hung the damp towel on a door hook and began to run a comb through her hair. “So are you going to have dinner with me tonight? Cesar has made goulash and corn bread. He knows I love goulash and your father hates it, so he makes it for me whenever Wyatt is gone.”
Chloe started toward the door, and Ileana slowly rose to her feet to follow her out of the bedroom. “I suppose I can stay long enough to eat, but then I’ve got to get home and go over several test results. I…actually, I stopped by to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” Chloe tossed her a look of concern as the two of them walked along a hallway. “Has something happened? Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m tired. That’s the only thing wrong with me, and I’ll tell you all about it when we get to the kitchen.”
“You’ve intrigued me now,” Chloe said with a smile. Then with a happy groan, she reached over and curled her arm tightly around her daughter’s shoulders. “I love you, sweetie. I’m glad you stopped by. No matter what the reason.”
Her mother’s display of affection was as commonplace as breathing, but Ileana never took it for granted. She’d seen too much suffering in her life to know that there were plenty of unloved people in this world. They marched through her office complaining of one malady after another when their real problem was loneliness.
The idea had her wondering about Mac McCleod’s life and what he must have gone through if the story he’d told about his mother was true. It was hard for Ileana to imagine growing up without her mother’s love, her constant hugs and kisses. Had the tough cowboy with the sexy brown eyes missed out on being cuddled and praised, or had a stepmother given him and his brother those things? she wondered.
That part of Mac McCleod is none of your business, Ileana. Just stick to the facts and concentrate on keeping your patient away from any undue stress.
The little voice of warning continued to pester her until the two women entered the kitchen and seated themselves at the small dining table.
“Okay, honey, what’s this thing you wanted to discuss with me?” Chloe asked as she spooned a hefty amount of goulash onto her plate. “I hope you haven’t stopped by to tell me that Frankie’s condition has gotten worse.”
“No. Actually, I think she’s slightly improved from yesterday, but her lungs still have a long way to go before I can pronounce them clear.”
“Damn woman,” Chloe muttered. “She should have had heart surgery a year ago when you advised her to.”
Ileana sighed. Frankie wasn’t the first stubborn patient she’d encountered. Over the eleven years she’d been a practicing physician, Ileana had run into her fair share, and when a patient refused treatment it always left her feeling frustrated and helpless. “That’s true. Her lungs are going to keep giving her problems if she doesn’t get her heart sound. But she’s afraid.”
Chloe frowned. “Well, aren’t we all afraid of medical procedures? But if we’re smart, we do them, because we want to be well and at our best. Life is too short to simply exist. I want to live my God-given days to the fullest.”
Ileana thoughtfully stirred sugar into her iced tea. “Yes, but you have lots to live for. I’m not sure that Frankie views life the same as you, Mother. Losing Lewis has devastated her. Just like it would devastate you if Daddy died.”
“Of course losing Wyatt would crush me! He’s the love of my life. But I’d have to go on doing the very best that I could. To do any less would be dishonorable to Wyatt and you children.”
Yes, her mother would see it that way, Ileana thought. But Chloe was a scrapper. As very young women, she and her two sisters had struggled and sacrificed to keep the Bar M going when others would have given up. Frankie didn’t have that same fighting spirit. Could her past life be some of the reason for her lack of grit? Ileana wondered.
“Mother, speaking of children, have you ever heard Frankie mention that she had other children?”
Across the table, Chloe’s fork stopped midway to her mouth. “Other children? What kind of question is that?”
“It’s not some sort of joke, if that’s what you’re thinking. Besides, you know I don’t joke.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, I do know. But let’s not get into that now. What are you getting at? The idea of Frankie having other children is preposterous.”
Ileana reached for a piece of cornbread. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d met Mac McCleod.”
Her expression puzzled, Chloe repeated the name. “I’ve never heard the name. Who is he? Where did you meet him?”
“He’s a deputy sheriff from Bee County, Texas. He showed up at the hospital wanting to see Frankie.”
Her expression full of concern now, Chloe leaned forward. “You didn’t allow him to see her, did you?”
Her mother’s sudden anxiousness was suspicious. “You know I’m not allowing anyone in to see her except Quint, Alexa and Abe.”
Chloe glanced down at her plate but didn’t attempt to resume eating. Ileana could tell that her thoughts were whirling.
“Was it official business?” her mother asked.
“No. Personal.” Ileana stabbed a piece of macaroni with her fork. She didn’t like giving people she loved bad news. And she had a deep feeling that Mac McCleod’s appearance was going to shake up more than a few around here. Especially Alexa and Quint. What would they think about having two half brothers? “He—uh—he says he thinks Frankie might be his long-lost mother. In fact, he seems almost certain of it.”
“My God, Ivy! You can’t be serious!”
She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had called her Ivy, the nickname her father had given her shortly after she’d been born. He’d considered Ileana too long and formal for a tiny baby girl. But by the time she’d reached high school age, Ileana had outgrown the nickname. Now, the only people who sometimes called her Ivy were her father and her brother, Adam. Apparently, her mother was completely distressed tonight.
“Yes, Mother. It seemed incredulous to me, too. But the man isn’t a flake. Far from it. He seemed more than legitimate and very determined. He showed me an old snapshot of him and his brother and his mother before she’d left the family. If you took off thirty years, the woman did resemble Frankie.”
“An old photograph doesn’t prove anything. What was this man like? Did he look like he could be related to Frankie?” she asked, then shook her head with disgust. “What the hell am I doing asking that question? There’s just no way. No way at all that Frankie had other children. She would have told me.”
Just conjuring the image of Mac in her brain was enough to leave Ileana’s mouth dry, and she quickly reached for her tea. “He’s a tall, very handsome guy. A cowboy type. A typical Texan,” she added, even though there had been nothing typical at all about the man, she thought.
Ileana took several sips of tea while her mother sat in silence. Chloe was either stunned or scared, and Ileana couldn’t figure which.
“What’s wrong, Mother? You do know something, don’t you?”
“You can’t let this man see Frankie,” she suddenly blurted. “At least, not until we find out more about him.”
“Well, I’d already planned on that. Why?”
With a heavy sigh, Chloe went back to eating but not with the same gusto as when they’d first sat down at the table.
“Look, Ileana, when I first met Frankie, almost thirty years ago, she was just traveling through the area. She’d left Texas and a husband behind. He was making some frightening threats against her, and at that time she was in the process of getting a divorce and was going by the name of Robertson. She said she’d reverted back to her maiden name.”
Ileana’s thoughts were spinning. She’d not even known that Frankie had been married before. Apparently that was a part of her life she didn’t want others knowing about, and if that was true, she probably wanted to keep other things secret. Like two more sons? The whole idea was shocking.
“When you first met her, did she ever mention what her married name was while she’d lived in Texas?” Ileana asked.
Chloe shook her head. “No. She didn’t tell me. And I wasn’t about to ask. I only knew that she needed a friend. I could tell that she was a bit traumatized, but what woman wouldn’t be? The man had threatened to kill her. And he was a farmer, a respected member of the community, or so she’d said. She’d run because she’d figured if she’d tried to get help, no one would have believed her complaints.”
Ileana thoughtfully pushed the goulash around her plate. “Mac didn’t mention anything about farming. He said his father had been a sheriff. Maybe Frankie isn’t the woman he’s looking for. But most of the things he said adds up, Mother.”
“How old was this—Mac—as you call him?”
Color instantly bloomed on Ileana’s face. Now why had she come out with his first name, as though she knew the man on a personal basis? “My age, I think. He told me his mother left the family when he was ten and his brother eight. And that she’s been gone twenty-nine years.”
“Oh, dear.”
Looking across the table, Ileana spotted tears in her mother’s eyes.
“No matter how hard I try, Ileana, I can’t imagine Frankie doing such a thing. She loves her children more than her own life. In fact, I’ve always told her that she smothered them too much. While they were growing up, she was frightened to turn her back for one instant in fear that something would happen to them.”
“Well, it’s hard to speculate what might have taken place in Texas. Could be that Frankie didn’t have much choice,” Ileana said thoughtfully. “If the man was threatening her, she might have been forced to leave her boys.”
Chloe shook her head emphatically. “But she would have gone back for them. Somehow, someway, she would have gone back.”
“Obviously she didn’t,” Ileana countered. “In fact, she’s never mentioned them to you. Doesn’t that seem odd?”
“Odd? Hell, no. It seems downright mean,” Chloe shot back, then with a weary sigh, she reached across the table and covered Ileana’s hand with hers. “Honey, when will you be seeing this man again?”
Ever since he’d disappeared through the hospital door, Ileana had been asking herself that same question. A huge part of her was thrilled at the idea of seeing him again, but the practical side cowered at the very thought. Mac McCleod was hardly the sort of man she would ever dream of consorting with. As if a man with his striking looks would ever think of giving her the time of day, she thought wryly. Everything about the man said he liked fast, showy horses and his women just the same. And Ileana was as far from that category as one could get.
“Tomorrow. Or so he said. I do have his telephone number.”
Chloe heaved out a breath of relief. “Good. I want you to give him a call and invite him to the ranch tomorrow night. For dinner.”
“Mom! Have you gone daft? I’m not going to do such a thing! I’ve just now met the man!”
“Look, Ivy, this is crucial!” Chloe pleaded. “You don’t want anything happening to Frankie, do you?”
What about your daughter? Ileana wanted to ask. Being around Mac McCleod was difficult on her heart. She wasn’t sure it could withstand the strain of being in his company for a whole evening.
“Of course I don’t want anything happening to Frankie. She’s my patient and a friend.”
“All right then.” Chloe gave Ileana’s hand one last pat and then leaned back in her chair. “I need to talk to this man and find out what’s really going on.”
“If you have a notion that you can change his mind about seeing Frankie, forget it. I doubt the man has ever uttered the word surrender. Unless he was yelling it at a fleeing criminal.”
Seeming not to hear Ileana’s warning, Chloe continued. “Quint and Alexa don’t know anything about this yet, do they?”
“No. But I suggested that he talk to them.”
“Oh, God, what is this going to do them?” Chloe mumbled worriedly. “They believe their mother is a saint.”
Across from her Ileana picked up her fork and tried to muster up the hunger she’d felt earlier this afternoon. The day had been long and exhausting, and she’d hardly had time to eat three bites of a dry turkey sandwich. But now all she wanted to do was go home and get this telephone call to Mac over with.
Back in Ruidoso, Mac had just returned to his motel room after a meal in a nearby restaurant. As he stretched out on the bed and reached for the remote control, the ring of his cell phone caught him by surprise. He’d not expected Ripp to call again tonight.
Pulling the phone from his jeans pocket, he was surprised to spot a local number illuminated. No one here had this number, except Dr. Sanders!
“Hello. Mac McCleod here.”
“Uh…Mac—this is…Dr. Sanders calling.”
His heart began to hammer with anticipation, or did a part of the adrenaline spurting through his veins have something to do with hearing her voice? After all, it was a sweet, husky sound. The kind that would sound perfect whispering in his ear.
Damn, Mac, leaving Texas soil has done something to your brain.
Snapping himself to sudden attention, he said, “Yes, Dr. Sanders. Has something happened?”
“If you mean Ms. Cantrell’s condition, no. I just spoke with her nurse. She’s resting comfortably. I’m calling for an entirely different reason.”
There was hesitancy about her words that put Mac on guard. Without thinking, he sat up on the side of the bed and stared expectantly at the floor. “You’ve changed your mind about allowing me to see her?”
“Uh—no. I’m…well, I’m calling to ask you to dinner tomorrow night,” she said, then rushed on before he could make any sort of response. “I live on a ranch in the Hondo Valley—my parents’ ranch—the Bar M. My mother thought you might like to visit with her. Since she’s known Frankie for nearly thirty years, she might be able to fill in some pieces of information for you.”
Mac hesitated for several seconds before he finally asked, “And why would she want to do that? I got the impression that you and your family want to shelter Frankie at all costs.”
He could hear her long sigh, and he was suddenly wondering how she might look with all that dark hair spilling around her pale face, with a sultry little smile on her lips and a sensual glint in her blue eyes. Was it possible he could ever see her like that?
“I do—we do. But we want to consider your side of this thing, too. Besides, Cesar is an excellent cook. If nothing else, you’ll get a nice meal.”
“And what about the company? Will you be there, too?”
There was a long pause, and Mac could very nearly imagine the blush that was creeping across her face. She reminded him of the timid, high school librarian who’d pursued him a few months ago. Once he’d gotten her in the dark, she’d been shy but sweet and eager. If he played his cards right, he might get lucky and discover that behind her lab coat and sturdy shoes, Dr. Ileana Sanders was just as sweet.
“Yes. I’ll be there,” she said.
“Great. What time and how do I get there?”
“Meet me at the hospital tomorrow evening at six,” she told him. “You can follow me out to the ranch from there.”
“Count on me being there,” he told her.
“Fine. Good night, Mac.”
“Good night, Ms. Sanders.”
She cleared her throat. “Please call me Ileana.”
A lazy smile spread across his face. “You can count on that, too—Ileana.”
She blurted another hasty good-night to him, then ended the call. Mac leaned back on the bed and stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling. Maybe hanging around here in New Mexico for a few more days wasn’t going to be as cold and lonely as he first feared.
Chapter Three
The next evening, a few minutes before six, Ileana managed to wind up the last of her hospital rounds and hurriedly changed from her work clothes into a royalblue sweater dress and a pair of tall, black suede boots. The dress had only been worn once, two years ago, when she’d attended a charity dinner with her parents. Ileana rarely bothered to vary her wardrobe from slacks or professional skirts and mundane blouses. No one bothered to look at her sideways. And if they did, it was because she was a doctor and they wanted to hear what she had to say about a patient or ailment.
But this morning, she’d grabbed the dress from her closet and convinced herself that her mother would be pleased if she dressed for their dinner guest tonight.
Shutting the door on her private workspace, Ileana hurried down the hallway toward the nearest hospital exit. She was almost past the nurse’s station, when Renae called out to her.
“Dr. Sanders, is that you?”
Stifling a sigh, Ileana paused and looked back at the nurse. “Yes, it’s me, Renae. I’m on my way home. Was there something you needed before I leave?”
The tall nurse with wheat-blond hair and bright blue eyes stepped out from behind the high counter. “No. Everything is quiet.” Her gaze ran pointedly over Ileana’s dress and boots. “My, oh my, you look—so different! I’ve never seen you dressed this way! And you’re wearing lipstick!”
A faint blush warmed Ileana’s cheeks, making them match the shell-pink color she’d swiped over her lips. She felt incredibly self-conscious. Which was absurd. She was thirty-eight years old. She could wear what she wanted, whenever she wanted, she tried to reassure herself. “I break out of my rut once in a while, Renae.”
The other woman smiled. “Well, you should do it more often, Doc.” Renae’s expression turned impish. “You wouldn’t want to tell me what the occasion is, would you?”
Renae would be the first one to admit that she did her share of contributing to the hospital gossip grapevine. But Ileana certainly didn’t have anything to hide. Her personal life was as flat and uninteresting as a cold pancake.
“Mother is having a dinner guest, and she doesn’t like for me to show up in wrinkled work clothes.”
Renae started to reply but paused as the sound of approaching footsteps caught both women’s attention. Ileana looked around to see Mac McCleod striding directly toward them. He was wearing a jean jacket with a heavy sheepskin collar, and his cowboy hat was pulled low over his forehead; but the moment he neared the two women, he tilted it back and smiled broadly.
“Good evenin’, ladies.”
Renae gave him one of her sexy smiles, and Ileana thought how perfect a companion the young nurse would be for the Texas cowboy. She was full of life and nothing—not even a man like Mac McCleod—intimidated her. Whereas Ileana felt like Little Red Riding Hood standing next to the big scary wolf.
“Good evening, Mr. McCleod,” Renae greeted him. “Fancy seeing you here again.”
He glanced briefly at the nurse before settling his eyes on Ileana. The direct gaze heated her body more than a huge shot of whiskey ever could.
“Yes,” he said to the nurse. “Dr. Sanders was kind enough to invite me to dinner.”
The sound of his voice was low and sultry. Or at least it seemed that way to Ileana. But she could be overreacting. Either way, she was ready to leave the hospital and break the odd tension that had suddenly come over her.
“Oh, how nice,” Renae responded while casting a shocked glance at Ileana.
“We’d better be going, Mac. Or we’ll be late.” Ileana quickly grabbed him by the arm and urged him toward the exit. To Renae, she tossed over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”
As the two of them headed down the wide corridor, he asked, “What’s the rush? Afraid I’m going to pester you to see Frankie before we leave the hospital?”
“No,” Ileana replied. “It wouldn’t make any difference how much you pestered me. The answer would still be no. At least for today.”
“So she’s still too ill for visitors?”
Now that they were away from Renae and nearing a revolving door that would take them outside the hospital, Ileana dropped her hand from his arm and purposely put space between their bodies. Even so, she was intensely aware of his spicy scent, the sensual swagger of his posture and the pleasant drawl to his voice.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Are you sure she’s getting everything she needs at this hospital? Maybe if you sent her to Albuquerque or Santa Fe? I mean, I’m not doubting your ability as a doctor, but she might need to be in a more high-tech facility.”
Ileana paused to pull on the black coat that was draped over her arm, but before she could swing it around her shoulders, he took the garment from her and graciously helped her into it. Ileana couldn’t remember the last time a man, other than a relative, had done such a personal thing for her. It made her feel awkward, yet sweetly cared for at the same time.
She’d never been really hurt or abused by any man, but her natural shyness and private nature had kept them at bay for years. Now it was a habit she couldn’t seem to break out of. Everyone thought of her as a plain old maid, and she couldn’t seem to change her own opinion of herself. But seeing her in this stranger’s eyes was giving her new hope.
Looking up at him, she smiled. “I’m sure you mean well, Mac. But there is no high-tech machine that can cure Frankie right now. And even if there were, our hospital here has up-to-date equipment. No, the only thing that can help Frankie is medication and total rest.”
He let out a long breath, and she could clearly see that he was frustrated, but his demeanor changed as quickly as the snap of two fingers. Once again he was smiling down at her. For a moment Ileana forgot that they were standing to one side of the door and that people were coming and going behind them. She was momentarily mesmerized by the subtle glint in his brown eyes, the faint dimples bracketing his lips, the dent in his chin.
“Well,” he said softly, “that just means I’ll have to stay here in Ruidoso longer and get to know you a bit better.”
Dropping her head, she cleared her throat as she tried to gather herself together. “Um…we’d better go. It’s a fairly long drive to the Bar M,” she told him.
Out in the parking lot, a north wind was whipping across the asphalt, rattling the bare limbs of the aspens and shaking the branches of the blue spruce trees. Ileana huddled, shivering inside her coat, as she gave him general directions to the ranch, then climbed into her truck and waited for him to do the same.
Soon a dark, fairly new-looking pickup truck pulled directly behind hers. She steered her own vehicle onto the street while carefully watching in the rearview mirror to make sure he was following. After a maze of turns and several traffic lights, they hit the main highway that would take them east to the Hondo Valley.
The Bar M was nearly thirty miles away and in the daylight, a beautiful drive through the mountains. But night had fallen more than an hour ago. As she drove, Ileana’s gaze switched from the white line on the highway to the headlights following a respectable distance behind her, while her thoughts raced faster than the speedometer on the dash panel.
What was the man really trying to do? There was no reason for him to flirt with her. In fact, the whole idea seemed ridiculous. But he had flirted, she mentally argued with herself. At least, it had felt that way to her. So why? Was he still thinking he could charm her into letting him see Frankie?
Yes. That had to be the reason. A man like him didn’t look twice at a woman like her for romantic reasons. And during the evening ahead, she was going to do her best to remember that.
Since Mac McCleod was a guest who had never visited the ranch before, Ileana purposely parked in front of the house so that they could enter properly through the main entrance.
When he joined her on the small stone walk leading up to the long porch, he paused to look around at the area lit by a nearby yard lamp.
“This is quite a beautiful place. I’d like to see the ranch and the drive up here in the daylight sometime.”
“Yes. Even though it is my home, I never take the scenery for granted,” she replied, then gestured toward the house. “Shall we go in? It’s very cold this evening.”
“It’s damn—sorry—it’s darn cold to me,” he said as he followed her to the door. “It gets cool where I come from but not anything like this. We’re lucky if we see a frost, much less snow.”
“Oh, come June and July we’ll get some very warm weather,” she told him. “But with the high altitude the nights remain cool.”
She opened the door and gestured for him to enter, but he shook his head and smiled.
“I’d never go before a lady. You lead the way.”
Even though Mac’s mother had left the family, he’d obviously been raised with manners, Ileana thought. And a whole lot of charm. Something she needed to ignore. But everything inside her was so aware of the man, so pleased to be in his presence. And the reaction made her feel more foolish than she’d ever felt in her life.
As they moved from the foyer into the long living room, Ileana was relieved to find her mother sitting on the couch. The moment Chloe spotted them, she rose to her feet and quickly joined them.
“Mac, this is my mother, Chloe Sanders. Mother, this is Mac McCleod,” Ileana promptly introduced.
“Mr. McCleod, I’m very happy you decided to join us tonight,” Chloe told him as she reached to shake his hand.
He took her hand, but rather than shake it, he simply held it in a warm, inviting grip. As a smile dimpled his cheeks, Ileana could see her mother succumbing to the man.
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am. Having you two ladies for company sure beats the lonely meal I had last night.”
Chloe chuckled softly. “Eating alone isn’t much fun. But my husband sometimes travels so I have to do it at times. Are you married, Mr. McCleod?”
Mac gave her a lopsided grin. “No. I’m a single man. And call me Mac, ma’am. Ileana already does.”
Chloe’s brows inched upward as she glanced over at her daughter. Ileana smiled awkwardly as her mother’s gaze swept over her sweater dress and her stacked heel boots.
“Does Cesar have dinner ready yet?” Ileana asked quickly.
“I think it will be a few more minutes,” Chloe said, then looped her arm through Mac’s. “Come along, Mac, and make yourself comfortable. I was just having a small glass of wine. Would you like to join me?”
“Only if Ileana will share one with us,” he said.
“Usually Ileana doesn’t drink anything but water,” Chloe said. “But maybe she’ll make an exception tonight—for you,” Chloe added.
Ileana didn’t know why her mother was speaking in such a coy manner or why Chloe expected her to drink a glass of wine when she knew her daughter didn’t like alcohol. But then, this whole issue with Mac McCleod was strange. His presence must be rubbing off on her mother, too, she thought.
“Only a very small glass,” Ileana told her.
Mac took a seat in a stuffed armchair situated a few feet from the fireplace, which at the moment was cracking and hissing with a roaring fire. Ileana took a chair across from him and crossed her legs. Then realizing she didn’t feel comfortable, she rested both feet flat on the floor and folded her hands in her lap.
Across the room, at a small wet bar, Chloe asked, “So have you been in Ruidoso for long, Mac?”
“Only since yesterday, ma’am.”
“How do you like this area?” she asked, as she handed him a glass of wine.
He thanked her, then said, “It’s very beautiful. But it’s not Texas. No offense, ma’ am.”
Chloe laughed softly. “I know what you mean, Mac. Texas is your home, so nothing could compare.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “That pretty much says how it is.”
Chloe handed Ileana a glass with a very short amount of red liquid in the bottom, then took a seat on a nearby couch.
Ileana said, “I’m sorry my father couldn’t be with us tonight, Mac. He’s away on business right now.”
“Is he a cattleman?” Mac asked.
“No. Daddy knows about cattle, but he’s mainly an oilman,” Ileana explained.
“Wyatt owns and runs a natural gas exploration business,” Chloe added. “He was doing that when we married—oh so many years ago.”
Mac looked back and forth between the two women. These people were well off financially. Even more than he’d initially thought. “This ranch, do you run stock on it?”
“Oh, yes,” Chloe answered. “It’s been a working ranch for nearly seventy-five years. For the most part, we raise horses, and I train them for the racetrack.”
He looked intrigued now, and Ileana wasn’t surprised. Her mother lived and worked in mostly a man’s world, at an exciting sport. Whereas Ileana worked at a job that was oftentimes depressing and complicated. Men were rarely drawn to her occupation.
“Thoroughbreds or quarter horses?” he asked Chloe.
“Both.”
Mac looked over at Ileana and was struck at how lovely she looked with her face bathed in a golden glow from the fire and the tail of her simple ponytail lying against one shoulder. There was a quiet dreaminess about her expression that was both soothing and inviting at the same time, and he found himself wishing he was going to have dinner with her alone.
“What about you, Ileana? Are you familiar with horses?”
“Ileana is an excellent horsewoman,” Chloe spoke up before her daughter could answer his question. “But she rarely takes the time to ride.”
“Keeping others well is important to me, Mother.”
Chloe smiled, but Mac got the sense that there was sadness behind her expression. As though she didn’t quite approve of her daughter’s lifestyle.
“Yes. And I’m very proud of you, darling. You know that.”
The room went quiet after that, and it suddenly dawned on Mac that he’d been so caught up in conversation with Ileana and her mother that Frankie, the reason for this visit, had totally slipped his mind.
“Ileana tells me you’re from Texas, Mac. What part?” Chloe asked.
“South Texas, ma’am. About forty miles north of Corpus Christi. I’m a deputy for Sheriff Langley Nichols in Bee County.”
She nodded slightly. “I have a brother-in-law and nephew who both served several terms as sheriff here in Lincoln County. We know all about the dedication you men put in your jobs. You’re to be commended.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Ileana’s mother smiled. “Call me Chloe.”
At that moment, an older man, tall, with a thick head of salt and pepper colored hair, appeared in an open doorway of the room. He politely inclined his head toward Mac, then turned his attention to the mistress of the house.
“Supper’s ready, Chloe.”
“Thank you, Cesar. We’ll be right there.”
The two women rose to their feet, and Mac followed behind Ileana as they left the living room and entered an adjoining room to their right. The rectangular space was furnished with a long cedar table that seated ten. The top was made of board planks while the legs had been roughly hewed from small cedar post. The matching chairs were worn smooth from years of use. Above the table, a lamp fashioned like a kerosene lantern hung from a low ceiling and cast a dim glow over the dining area. Across the way, heavy drapes were pushed back from a double window. Beyond the blackened panes, Mac could make out the tall branches of a spruce tree whipping in the cold wind.
In the past year, his brother had married a ranching heiress, a daughter of one of the Sandbur Ranch families. Since then, Mac had had the pleasure of visiting the huge ranch, and he could safely say that this house was nothing like the huge, elaborate homes there. This Bar M Ranch house was much smaller in scale and far more rustic in furnishings and appearance. As Mac helped both women into their chairs, he decided the Sanders family was only concerned with two things. Comfort and practicality.
After Mac took a seat directly across from Ileana, the man called Cesar served them a salad that was full of ripe olives and bits of corn chips. The concoction was so tasty Mac forgot that he didn’t like salads.
“Ileana tells me that you’ve come to Ruidoso to see Frankie Cantrell,” Chloe said, once all of them were eating.
Mac hadn’t expected her to bring up the subject so bluntly, but he was quickly seeing that Chloe wasn’t bashful about speaking her mind.
“That’s right. I—we—that is, my brother and I didn’t have any idea she was ill. If we’d known I would have put off the trip to a later date.”
Chloe thoughtfully chewed a bite of food, then said, “So Frankie didn’t have any idea you were coming to New Mexico?”
“No. Ripp and I didn’t want to write or call. This matter is something that needs to be dealt with in person. Face-to-face.”
Silence settled over the table, and Mac could feel Ileana’s gaze settle on him. When he looked across the table at her, there was a shy smile on her face. The sweetness of it caught his attention far more than a wicked wink would have, and he wondered if the high altitude of these desert mountains was doing something to him. Right now they were probably more than seven thousand feet above sea level. Maybe he was getting altitude sickness. Something was definitely making him dizzy.
“I’ve told Mother about your concerns—that you believe Frankie might be your mother. I hope you don’t mind me sharing the information.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s hardly something I’m trying to keep a secret. I can’t find answers without asking questions. And questions require explanations.”
“Well,” Chloe began, “I’ll be honest, Mac. Your story floored me. I’ve known Frankie Cantrell for nearly thirty years. I’ve never heard her mention having other children. I mean, children from her past.”
Mac told himself not to let this morsel of information get to him. A good lawman always gathered all the evidence he could find before he took action. Even when he might be the victim.
“Maybe she wanted to forget she had other children,” he suggested.
With a long sigh, Chloe put down her fork and faced him directly. Mac studied her closely, and as he did, he found himself comparing the woman to Ileana. The two didn’t match in looks or demeanor, so he assumed Ileana must have taken after her father.
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