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Man on a Mission
Carla Cassidy
No one would meet Mark Delaney's eyes. After a devastating brush with death, he had changed dramatically–and done so with one purpose in mind.He had a killer to catch and could no longer trust his own family. But one woman dared to look beyond his facade. April Cartwright, newly hired by the Delaneys, sought to know the real Mark. But the loner knew he had to resist. A murderer was in their midst, and if Mark succumbed to the sweet promises April offered, his mission would put them both in deadly peril. And he would not risk her innocent life–even at the cost of his own!



He didn’t know what to believe, didn’t know who to trust, and he’d never felt so alone in his life.
Mark leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to April. Something about her touched him. Something about her pierced through the echo of loneliness in his heart and filled him with the promise of possibility.
He wanted her. And though he knew little about her, he wanted her as he hadn’t wanted a woman in a very long time.
But Mark knew he’d be a fool to follow through on the desire he felt for her. He was playing a role. He had a killer to catch, a ranch to save, and that had to take precedence over anything else in his life.
Most especially what he felt for April.
Dear Reader,
This is officially “Get Caught Reading” month, so why not get caught reading one—or all!—of this month’s Intimate Moments books? We’ve got six you won’t be able to resist.
In Whitelaw’s Wedding, Beverly Barton continues her popular miniseries THE PROTECTORS. Where does the Dundee Security Agency come up with such great guys—and where can I find one in real life? A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY is almost over, but not before you read about Cinderella’s Secret Agent, from Ingrid Weaver. Then come back next month, when Sharon Sala wraps things up in her signature compelling style.
Carla Cassidy offers a Man on a Mission, part of THE DELANEY HEIRS, her newest miniseries. Candace Irvin once again demonstrates her deft way with a military romance with In Close Quarters, while Claire King returns with a Renegade with a Badge who you won’t be able to pass up. Finally, join Nina Bruhns for Warrior’s Bride, a romance with a distinctly Native American feel.
And, of course, come back next month as the excitement continues in Intimate Moments, home of your favorite authors and the best in romantic reading.


Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor

Man on a Mission
Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CARLA CASSIDY
has written over thirty-five books for Silhouette. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance, and in 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series, both from Romantic Times Magazine.
Carla believes the only thing better than a good book to read is a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14

Prologue
“How’s he doing?” Johnna Delaney asked, her voice a hushed whisper in the hospital room.
“The doctor says he’s going to be all right physically.” Matthew Delaney’s voice was also low, barely audible.
“And mentally?” Johnna asked.
There was a long pause. “It’s too early to tell. He took quite a blow to the head. There’s a possibility he might have suffered brain damage.”
Their voices drifted away, letting Mark Delaney know they had left his hospital room. He opened his eyes and turned his head toward the brilliant morning sun dancing into the window.
For the first time in the four days since he’d been brought into the hospital with a severe head injury, he felt completely lucid.
And with the lucidness came memories. Marietta passing him a note in secret. “Meet me at the barn at midnight tonight. It’s important.”
And he had met her at the barn at midnight. The moon had been full as he’d stood just outside the barn awaiting her approach. He couldn’t imagine what the pretty social director on his family ranch wanted to discuss with him. All her dealings were usually with his father, Adam.
He saw her then, hurrying toward him. “Hey, handsome,” she said, greeting him in her familiar fashion, but her trademark smile was absent, replaced by a frown of worry.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he responded. He and Marietta enjoyed an easy, flirtatious relationship based on the mutual knowledge that there was no real chemistry—other than friendship—between them.
“Thank you for meeting me.” She reached a hand out for his, as if she needed the physical contact. Mark realized as he gripped her hand that it wasn’t just worry that darkened her eyes, but fear.
“Marietta, what’s wrong? What’s going on? Why did you want to meet out here in the middle of the night?”
“I don’t want anyone to know I’ve spoken with you.”
“Spoken with me about what?”
“Before I say anything, you have to promise me something,” she said.
“What?”
“Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone. Not your brothers, not your sister…nobody.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “I don’t know who to trust—and I don’t know who you can trust. I’m taking a chance in trusting you, but I have to say something to somebody.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Promise me,” she repeated fervently.
“Okay, I promise. Now, what’s going on?”
“Something bad is going on here at the ranch. Something very bad.”
“What do you mean ‘bad’?” Mark pressed. “If it’s something illegal, we’ll go to Sheriff Broder.”
“No! I’m not sure that he’s not involved,” she protested. “I’ve heard whispers…rumors. What they’re doing is wrong…illegal and eventually will destroy us all.” Her voice rose hysterically with each word.
Mark released her hand and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Marietta, calm down. Now, tell me who is doing what?”
He saw her eyes widen and fill with sheer terror. Before he realized what caused her fear, he felt a blow to the back of his head—one second of excruciating pain, then complete and total blackness.
Mark now pulled himself up to a sitting position in the hospital bed, rage battling with grief as he thought of the events that had led to his hospitalization and Marietta’s death.
Somebody had killed her and tried to kill him. Somebody had sneaked up behind him and silenced Marietta before she could tell him exactly what was going on.
He tossed back the covers and stood, pleased to discover no headache and no unsteadiness as he made his way across the room to the window.
In fact, what he felt more than anything was a relentless energy, a need to get out of this hospital and find out what secret Marietta knew. The secret that had gotten her killed.
“Mark!” He whirled around to see his brother and sister standing in the doorway. “You’re up. Thank God.” Matthew stalked across the floor and peered at him intently. “How are you feeling? You doing okay? Everyone has been really anxious to talk to you, to find out what happened.”
Promise me. Marietta’s words spun in Mark’s head. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone. Not your brothers, not your sister…nobody. I don’t know who to trust.
“I’m okay,” Mark replied.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
He sensed the intensity in Matthew’s voice, and suspicion bloomed. What was going on at the ranch? Who was involved? Marietta had said it was bad, illegal. She’d implied he should not trust not only his own family but the sheriff, as well.
“Mark?” Matthew pressed.
Mark raked a hand through his hair, unsure how to reply.
“Stop it, Matthew,” Johnna said. “You’re obviously upsetting him. We’ll have time to talk when he’s feeling stronger.”
“I feel fine,” Mark said, his mind working to assess how best to handle the entire situation. He needed to buy some time, needed to think about what had happened, the things Marietta had implied.
Brain damage. The two words flirted around the edge of his subconscious. Perhaps he could buy himself a little bit of time, pretend his brain wasn’t working quite right, until he could figure out exactly what was going on.
Trust nobody. Not his family, not law enforcement. Marietta’s words haunted him, and he knew he was on his own to find out what was going on at the ranch and who had killed her and why.

Chapter 1
“There must be some mistake.” The tall, dark-haired man looked at April Cartwright as if she were a dead fly that had accidentally fallen on his shirt. “There are no available jobs here.”
“But that’s impossible,” April protested. She cast a quick glance at her car where her eleven-year-old son, Brian, was waiting, then looked back at the man before her. “I finalized the arrangement with Adam Delaney last week. He knew I was arriving today. I’m to be the new social director.”
Could he hear her heart pounding? Could he sense her desperation? Sweat trickled down the small of her back, and she fought the impulse to fidget.
Who was this man with his cold eyes and arrogant features? “Please, if you could just speak with Adam Delaney. He knows all about this.”
“Unless you find a particularly good medium, talking to him might prove difficult. I’m Matthew Delaney. Adam was my father. He died of a heart attack four days ago. We buried him yesterday.”
Shock rippled through April. To her shame, she realized her grief was not so much for the man who had died, a man she’d hardly known, but rather for the hope he’d represented—the hope of a new start.
“Hi.” A second man joined Matthew in the doorway. It was easy to tell the two men were related. Both appeared to have been forged in darkness: ebony hair, shadowed gray-blue eyes and thick dark brows that instantly emitted an aura of disapproval. They both towered over her five feet two inches, and this second man was shirtless, exposing a tanned, impossibly broad, muscled chest.
“Go on, Mark,” Matthew said. “I’ll handle this.”
Mark smiled, and any air of darkness vanished. It was the open smile of a guileless man. “I’m Mark Delaney,” he said, and held out his hand.
“I’m April. April Cartwright.” She allowed him to shake her hand, startled at the unexpected firmness of his grasp. His hand was warm, his palm slightly callused.
“April. That’s a pretty name. Like spring.” He looked eminently pleased with himself for making the connection between her name and the season, and at that moment April suspected the tall, devastatingly handsome cowboy in front of her was mentally challenged.
“Go home, Ms. Cartwright. There’s nothing for you here,” Matthew Delaney said curtly.
“But you don’t understand.” April bit her bottom lip, not quite able to bring herself to beg. What was she going to tell Brian? She’d made so many promises to her son. “We have no home to go to,” she finally said.
“You can stay here,” Mark said, then turned to Matthew. “She could stay in one of the back cottages. Let her stay, Matthew.” He looked back at April and smiled shyly. “I like her.”
Matthew stared at Mark, then looked back at April. He raked a hand through his dark hair and frowned. “You can stay for the night. I can’t promise anything beyond that.”
It wasn’t what April needed, and it certainly wasn’t what she’d expected, but if she couldn’t have the whole loaf, she’d take whatever crumbs were offered. “Thank you,” she replied.
At least she and Brian could get a good night’s sleep before leaving to go to— To go where? There was nothing to return to. At the moment the sum of her future consisted of a single night in a cottage.
“If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll show you where you can spend the night,” Matthew said. It was obvious by his closed expression he was not particularly happy with Mark’s interference.
“I can show her,” Mark replied.
Matthew looked at him dubiously. “You sure?”
Mark nodded. “I can do it.”
Matthew hesitated another moment, then looked at April. “Mark will show you where you can stay. One night, that’s the best I can offer you. We’re not even sure there will be a Delaney Dude Ranch tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” April replied.
“Don’t thank me,” Matthew said. “You can thank Mark.” Without another word he turned and left the doorway.
Mark stepped out onto the porch, bringing with him the scent of a freshly showered male.
“Maybe we should just go,” April said. It was obvious Matthew Delaney wasn’t pleased with even giving the reprieve of a night. “Matthew didn’t seem too happy.”
“Matthew is my brother, and he’s never happy,” Mark replied. “It’s all right. Come on, I’ll show you.” When she hesitated, again he smiled that wondrously warm smile. “Come on,” he repeated.
April followed him from the porch and gestured for her son to join them. Brian bounded from the car, all skinny arms and legs. His face was lit with eagerness.
“Brian, this is Mark. Mark, this is my son, Brian.”
“How do you do, sir?” Brian said.
Mark grinned widely, as if Brian had told a joke. “My name isn’t sir, it’s Mark.”
Brian looked at April, a question in his gaze. April shook her head, indicating to him that they’d talk later.
Mark led them around the huge, rambling ranch house. To the left of the house were the guest quarters, attractive little cottages, which at the moment were empty.
When April had spoken with Adam Delaney a week before, she’d been told that the ranch had two dark months a year, months when they didn’t take guests, one month in the spring and one month in the fall. The down time was used for major repairs and cleaning. This was the last two weeks of the spring down time.
In two weeks time, the dude ranch would be jumping with guests, families and newlyweds, young couples and old, all here to enjoy the novelty of the Old West that the resort offered, unless, as Matthew Delaney had indicated, Adam’s death was also the demise of the highly reputed dude ranch.
April was intensely conscious of the man next to her. He walked with a loose-hipped gait just shy of a swagger. He was all man yet, in his eyes, in his smile, he appeared rather simple.
As they walked, the midday sun beat down with relentless heat, and thick dust rode a breeze that seemed to spew straight from a blast furnace.
She struggled for small talk, but was too tired, too hot and too disheartened. Besides, she couldn’t very well comment on the beauty of their surroundings. There was nothing but barrenness. A land suffering sunstroke. Scrub grass struggled to survive in the blistered red earth, where cacti seemed to be the only vegetation that flourished.
Inferno, Arizona. The tiny town southwest of Tucson, near the Mexican border, was to have been the place for her to start fresh, begin to build something good.
She was in the middle of hell, with no job, no money and an eleven-year-old boy who’d been angry at the world for the past two months.
Behind the big house was another group of out-buildings, these less attractive and smaller than the guest bungalows. “Number three,” Mark said, breaking the silence between them. He stepped up on the small porch and thumped the black numeral nailed to the door. “See, number three.”
Again Brian looked at April, as if sensing something not quite right with the tall, handsome cowboy. “Thank you, Mark,” she said.
A pleasant smile curved his lips. “Welcome,” he returned, then clapped Brian on the back. “Come on, let’s get your stuff from the car.”
“You don’t have to do that,” April protested. He’d already done enough by convincing his brother to allow them to stay for the night.
“I can do it,” Mark replied. “I’m strong.”
Oh, there was no doubt he was strong. His broad chest and thick biceps attested to that fact. He was strong but seemed gentle at the same time.
“Let us guys do it, Mom,” Brian said.
A lump rose in her throat and she nodded. She watched as Mark and Brian went back to her parked car.
Brian matched his stride to that of Mark’s, looking achingly youthful as he struggled to keep up. He’d been so excited about living on a real dude ranch with horses and cows and wide-open spaces.
How was she going to tell him that they were only here for the night? She’d made so many promises to him, certain that finally things were going to go their way for a change.
With a weary sigh she stepped into the small bungalow. It was a cheerless place, furnished with bland, utilitarian furniture. Next to the kitchenette was a narrow, drop-leaf table and two chairs. The living room contained a wall of shelves, a sofa bed and an Early-American coffee table, whose base was shaped like a wagon wheel. In each of the two bedrooms was a double bed and a small chest of drawers.
At least there’s a shower, she thought as she went into the bathroom. At the moment a shower sounded divine.
When she heard the sound of footsteps on the porch, she left the bathroom. Mark entered first, carrying two suitcases. Brian followed just behind him with the ice chest that contained the last of the fruit and cheese they’d nibbled on the ride.
“We have to make another trip to get the rest of it,” Brian said.
“That’s enough for now,” April replied. No sense unloading everything from the car when they would only be packing it again tomorrow.
Mark set the suitcases just inside the door, then walked over and turned on the window air conditioner. “You’ll fry like bacon if you don’t use this.”
Brian looked around, then called to his mother, “Which bedroom is going to be mine?”
“You can have the bigger of the two,” she replied, dreading the moment she had to tell him it was only for one night.
She smiled once more at Mark. “Thank you again for your help. We’ll be fine now.”
He reached out and took her hand in his. Instantly warmth seeped up her arm. She held his hand for a moment too long, wanting to convey to him how grateful she was for the reprieve he’d granted them.
When she finally dropped his hand, she was startled to see a flash of…something in his eyes. It was there only a moment, then gone.
“You’ll be fine,” he agreed. Again he smiled a sweet, uncomplicated smile. “I’ll be back later.” With this promise he turned and left them alone.
“He’s nice, but something isn’t working right,” Brian said as he tapped the side of his head.
He’d been more than nice, April thought, and his smile had reached inside her and touched her like none had in a very long time.
Perhaps because it had been such a nonthreatening, gentle smile. No cunning, no shrewdness, nothing but innocent pleasure. The smile of innocence and yet it had warmed her like that of a man’s.
She shook her head, dismissing all thoughts of Mark Delaney. She had more important things to think about—like the fact that come morning, they’d be back on the road to nowhere.

As Mark walked toward the stables, he wondered what had prompted him to come to April Cartwright’s rescue. Had it been because her hair was the rich-gold of a daisy, or because her dewy, green eyes had radiated the promise of spring—something Inferno, Arizona, didn’t normally enjoy?
Or had it simply been because he’d felt her desperation, sensed a disturbing resignation? She’d looked so small, so defenseless when Matthew had told her there was no position available.
Adam had promised her a job, and now Adam was gone. A shaft of pain pierced through Mark as he thought of his father.
He grieved not so much for the man who had died, but for the fact that now he and his father would never be anything more than what they’d been to each other—virtual strangers.
Shoving aside these thoughts, he entered the stable. As always the scent of oiled leather, fresh hay and horseflesh filled him with pleasure and a sense of homecoming.
The horses had always been his family, the stable his home. As he walked down the center of the building, the horses in their stalls on either side greeted him with soft whinnies and welcoming nickers.
He whispered soft words to each animal he passed, pausing to stroke a mane or scratch behind an ear. There was no sound of another human being, and Mark knew the men who worked for the ranch would be on their lunch break.
What had happened to April and Brian Cartwright? No money and no place to go. What kicks had life delivered to them that had landed them here, broke and hopeless?
He couldn’t very well ask such questions. He wasn’t supposed to be bright enough to understand such things.
Frowning, he reached up and touched the back of his head. In the past three weeks, the wound had nearly healed, although he’d led everyone to believe the assault had left behind inexplicable brain damage.
Although the physical wounds were mending, he was still suffering from a disturbing rage. He was racked by the need to discover who had attacked him with a shovel and who had killed Marietta Lopez.
A vision of Marietta exploded in his mind. Dancing dark eyes and a generous smile, the attractive young woman had been a favorite among both guests and the other workers at the ranch.
But the last time Mark had seen her, she hadn’t been smiling and the light in her eyes hadn’t danced. Her eyes had shone with the darkness of secrets. She’d been afraid.
How he wished he had a clue as to her murderer and what secrets she hadn’t had the opportunity to share with him. How he wished she’d been as hardheaded as he was, then perhaps the blow from the shovel wouldn’t have killed her.
Was it possible he’d seen something in April’s eyes that had reminded him of Marietta’s that night? The same kind of fear, the same expression of anxiety?
April. Her eyes had been the brightest green he’d ever seen and something in their depths had stirred him—a slight wariness, a vulnerability. The look of a dog that desperately wanted a soft touch, but anticipated a swift kick.
She’d said she’d been hired by his father as social director. The position had opened up when Marietta had been murdered.
If, at the family meeting at dinnertime, his brothers, Matthew and Luke, and his sister, Johnna, decided to abide by the terms of their father’s will and work the ranch together for the next year, then they would need a social director.
Of course, it was possible the Delaney siblings would do what they had always done in the past—go their separate ways. The ranch would then be sold and the money go to their aunt Clara. For his sake, as well as for April Cartwright’s, he hoped that didn’t happen.
He turned at the sound of raucous male laughter and tensed as John Lassiter, the foreman, and several of the cowboys came into view.
“Hey, Mark,” Billy Carr called out, a wise-guy smirk on his narrow face. “How’s it going?”
Mark forced his smile. “How’s what going?” He sighed inwardly with resignation, knowing what was about to follow. Bait the fool. It had become a favorite game among the Neanderthals since Mark’s supposed brain damage had become common knowledge.
“Life, my boy.” Billy clapped him on the back, at the same time winking at the others. “How’s life for a man who is one crayon short of a box?”
“One fry shy of a Happy Meal,” Kip Randall chimed in, exposing protruding front teeth as he guffawed with ill-spirited laughter.
“That’s enough,” John snapped, calling a halt to their fun. “Get to work, both of you.” When the two had disappeared in the direction of the barn, John turned and smiled at Mark. “You okay?”
“Sure, I’m okay.”
“Don’t you pay any attention to them two,” John said. “They’re morons.”
Mark nodded, his grin unchanging. And they would be the first two to be fired when Mark achieved his goals and reclaimed his intelligence, he thought with satisfaction.
“Mark, could you take a look at Diamond? I thought she was limping earlier this morning. You’re the only one she’ll let get close to her.”
“Sure,” Mark agreed. “I’ll do it now.”
Despite his supposed short falls, nobody questioned his proficiency with the horses. From the time he’d been young, he’d had a special gift with the animals. He could play the idiot in all areas of his life except this one, and he wouldn’t allow anyone else to tend to the horses.
It took him only a few minutes to check out Diamond, the palomino that had been his father’s favorite mount. A stone in the shoe was easily dislodged, giving the horse instant relief.
When he finished, he headed back to the house. Although he had his own cabin on the outreaches of the Delaney property, Matthew had insisted he stay at the house since the murder attempt.
Whenever possible he went to his own place, where he could drop the facade of fool and just be himself for a few precious moments.
He saw nobody when he entered the house. He knew Lucinda would be in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. Matthew was probably in the study, where he’d spent most of the past four days since Adam’s death.
Mark went directly to his room in the back of the house. From the vantage point of his window, he could see the cottages where some of the household help lived and where April and her son were spending the night.
For the first time, as he thought of April Cartwright, he almost regretted the role he’d chosen to play. What woman would be interested in a man like the one he pretended to be?
He turned away from the window with a sigh of disgust. The last thing he needed to even consider was getting involved with any woman. Getting involved meant learning about and sharing pieces of yourself—something Mark could not do. At this point in his life he couldn’t risk trusting anyone.
He had to find out what Marietta had wanted to tell him that night. She’d implied whatever it was put the entire ranch operation at risk. Whatever it had been had caused her death and Mark’s near death.
He couldn’t allow anything to distract him from his goals, including a shapely blonde with springtime eyes and an aura of vulnerability. He had to find a murderer. As Marietta warned him, he couldn’t trust the sheriff. Nor could he believe Broder’s theory that a missing ranch hand had been responsible for the murder.
By the time Mark had showered once again, washing off the scent of the stables, and had changed his clothes, he realized it must be getting close to dinnertime. As he checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his stomach clenched with tension.
Family powwows had never been particularly pleasant, and Mark didn’t anticipate this one being any different. Although his brothers and sister had rallied around him when he’d been in the hospital, upon his release they’d returned to their separate lives.
Now, with the terms of their father’s will, they were forced to deal with one another. They would either learn to work together in order to keep the ranch alive, or they would choose to continue their solitary lives and the ranch would die along with their father.
As Mark went down the stairs to the dining room, he shook his head ruefully. It was rather amazing to him that Adam, in his death, was attempting to make them all what they had never really ever been in his life—a family.

Chapter 2
“I’m not about to give up my law practice to shovel horse dung here,” Johnna Delaney glared at Matthew. She had the same bold, dark features as her brothers, and at the moment those features were twisted into a frown. “I can’t imagine what father was thinking of when he wrote this will.”
The evening meal was finished, and the Delaney siblings had all gathered in the study to discuss the future.
“Well, I’m not exactly champing at the bit to work the ranch,” Luke drawled lazily as he poured himself another drink.
Luke, Mark’s younger brother, was a sometime musician, a sometime carpenter and an all-the-time hell-raiser. Had it been a hundred years earlier, he probably would have been a gunslinger.
As had been the custom, particularly in the past three weeks, the conversation swirled around Mark, rather than included him. Nobody asked his opinion, offered him suggestions or spoke directly to him at all.
He was virtually invisible, as he’d felt for most of his life as the middle son sandwiched between the two strong personalities of his older and younger brothers.
“Then we just let it all go?” The muscles in Matthew’s jaw tightened visibly. “All Father’s hard work and dreams, all the years of planning and struggling, we just let it die with him?” He glared first at Luke, then at Johnna.
Johnna flushed and looked down at the glass of wine she held. “I’m not moving back here, Matthew. This dude ranch was always yours and Mark’s and father’s dream, not mine.”
Walter Tilley cleared his throat. The diminutive lawyer sat in a wing chair near the fireplace. Until this moment he’d been so quiet, Mark had nearly forgotten he was in attendance.
“If I might interject,” he said calmly. “Johnna, your father’s will does not stipulate that you must live here at the ranch. You can remain in town and still adhere to the conditions outlined by your father.”
“I’ll listen,” Luke said, a wry grin curving his lips. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but losing the money the ranch is worth to Aunt Clara doesn’t sit much better with me than giving up my time for a year to work the ranch.”
Walter smoothed his thin mustache with the tip of a manicured finger as he stepped in to further explain the terms of the will. “Specifically all the will requires is that you keep the ranch running for a year and that you each put in a total of twenty-five hours per week working a specific position. After the year has passed, you’re free to keep the ranch running or sell it and split the proceeds.
“Might I suggest you seriously consider adhering to the terms of the will,” he went on. “There would be a considerable amount of money coming to each of you should you decide to sell at the end of the year.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Johnna exclaimed irritably, and walked to the window that looked out onto the front of the property. “I hate it here,” she said more to herself than to the others.
“This must be a unanimous decision,” Walter said. “Either you all agree or the ranch is sold and the proceeds are paid to Clara Delaney.”
There was a long, tension-filled silence.
“I have a new friend,” Mark said to nobody in particular. He knew his comment was completely inappropriate but in keeping with the path of subterfuge he’d decided to follow.
“That’s good, bro.” Luke clapped Mark on the back absently. “So, what’s the decision here, gang? I’ve got plans for the night.”
Johnna turned from the window and faced her brothers, then looked at Walter. “Tell me again how this works and who is responsible for what.”
Mark stifled a sigh, wondering how many more times they would have to go through all this before a final decision was made. One thing was clear: Matthew wasn’t willing to let go of the ranch. Was it because he was involved in the illegal activity Marietta had discovered?
“Your father requested I continue as overseer of ranch finances,” Walter explained. “Each of you would log in with me concerning your hours worked here. Matthew, your father wished you to continue as manager, overseeing the daily operation of things. Mark would remain in charge of the livestock. Luke would take care of maintenance and repairs, and you’d handle public relations and publicity.”
As Walter continued to talk, Mark cast surreptitious glances to his siblings. He’d like to think he knew them well enough to know that none of them would be involved in any nefarious operations on the ranch. But he couldn’t.
Sadly, at thirty-three years old, Mark was no closer to knowing his brothers and sister than he’d been at ten.
“Johnna, please.” Matthew’s voice was tense and Mark knew the price in pride his older brother paid to beg. Was there also desperation there? “We have to come to a decision now. We’ve got a full slate of guests due to arrive in two weeks. Just give it a try.”
Mark looked at his sister. She was beautiful, but any softness she’d possessed had died when she’d miscarried in the sixth month of her pregnancy eight years ago without a man anywhere near her side.
All the pleading in the world wouldn’t move Johnna if she didn’t want to be moved. She’d become hard. Hard enough to get involved in illegal activity, Mark thought.
She sighed and looked at Luke. It had always been so, that the two youngest, Johnna and Luke, had a closeness that excluded their two elder brothers.
Luke shrugged with his usual devil-may-care grin. “Why don’t we try it for three months, then see how things are going? We can always walk away at that time. What do you say, Mark? We give it a try?”
“Sure,” Mark agreed then added, “My new friend’s name is April.” He smiled at his brothers and sister as if he didn’t feel the raw emotion, the heightened tension in the air. If only he could trust his family enough to let go of the fool’s role, he thought. But he couldn’t forget Marietta’s words of warning.
“April?” Luke raised an eyebrow in Matthew’s direction.
Matthew waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ll explain later,” he said, his gaze focused intently on Johnna.
“All right,” she said to Matthew, her features taut with irritation. “I’ll give it a try. Not for father’s sake, but because I know how important the ranch is to you and Mark.”
“Then it’s settled,” Walter said as he stood. “I’ll be in touch with each of you later this week to work out the details.”
Mark stood, grateful the matter had been decided and eager to escape. Throughout dinner and during the entire discussion about the ranch, all he’d been able to think about was April and Brian and the cooler of food.
He’d seen the contents of the cooler when Brian had nearly upended it when he’d grabbed it from the back seat of their car. It had been a scant amount of fruit, several hunks of cheese and a couple cans of soda.
As he’d eaten his dinner of roast and potatoes, fresh corn and homemade bread, he’d thought of them dining on their pitiful fare and had decided a care basket was in order.
Matthew walked the others to the front door, and Mark made his escape into the kitchen. Lucinda, the woman who’d been cooking for the Delaney family for as long as Mark could remember, had already left for the night. The enormous kitchen was spotless, but Mark knew there were always plenty of leftovers in the refrigerator.
He grabbed a basket from the pantry, then checked out the contents of the large, stainless steel refrigerator. Spying several pieces of fried chicken from the night before, he wrapped them in foil and put them into a basket. He added a container of potato salad, a small tub of baked beans and bread and butter.
Then, thinking of the boy, he wrapped up half of the chocolate cake Lucinda had baked that day and added it to the basket.
He left by the back door, catching his breath as he stepped from the cool of the house into the heat of the evening. It was mid-May, but already the temperatures were consistently hitting the century mark.
As he walked toward the cottages, once again his thoughts went to the role he’d chosen to play. Initially he’d just wanted to buy himself some time, to gain enough distance from that night with Marietta in order to make sense of it all.
As soon as he’d started the pretense, he’d noticed something interesting. People talked in front of him as if he wasn’t present. It was an odd phenomenon, one he had recognized years before when they’d had a Down’s syndrome man working for them. Mark had noticed how people spoke in front of the man about things they would never confide to anyone else, as if confident he would never repeat, or understand, what they were saying.
And that was exactly what Mark was counting on now. Already he’d noticed the ranch hands spoke more freely in front of him than they ever had in the past. And in that freedom, Mark hoped to glean clues about Marietta’s murder and whatever it was she had believed threatened the very existence of the ranch.
He shoved these thoughts aside as he reached cottage number three. He was surprised as an eager anticipation surged through him.
Now that they had decided to keep the ranch running for at least three months, April and Brian would be able to stay. Somehow, he’d make sure of it. He didn’t stop to analyze why it was important to him that they remain at the ranch. It was enough that she reminded him of spring.
He shifted the basket from one hand to the other, then knocked on the door.
She answered almost immediately, and it was obvious she had recently stepped out of a shower. Her hair was curly and damp and she smelled of soap and shampoo. She was clad in a mint-colored, sleeveless shift that skimmed her slenderness and stopped just above her knees.
“Mark.” Her eyes widened as she saw him.
“I brought a surprise,” he said, and held up the basket.
“A surprise?” A tiny wrinkle furrowed her brow as she gazed first at him, then at the basket. “Please come in.” She stepped aside to allow him entry, then closed the door behind her to stop the flow of heat into the air-conditioned room.
A small suitcase was open on the sofa, revealing pastel-colored lacy things, and the sight of those feminine items caused a flutter of heat to sweep through Mark.
He set the basket on the table, wondering what it was about this particular woman that affected him on a level that nobody else had for a very long time.
He’d been invulnerable, untouchable both physically and mentally when it came to women since Rachel’s defection three years ago.
“What’s all this?” she asked, peering into the basket.
“Dinner.”
Her eyes appeared to grow impossibly luminous. “Oh,” she said softly. “Mark, you shouldn’t have done this.”
“Why not? It’s good food.” He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets.
She laughed, a musical sound that was at once arresting. “I’m sure it’s good food.”
“Then eat,” Mark replied. He pulled his hands from his pocket and began to unload the items from the basket. “Where’s your boy?” he asked when he’d finished.
She pointed toward the closed bedroom door. “He’s angry.”
“Why?” Mark went to the cabinet and pulled out two plates and set them on the table.
Again her brow crinkled with a frown, and he could tell she was trying to determine whether to tell him. “I had promised Brian we were going to stay here, that I was going to have a job here. Now he’s angry because there’s no job and we’ll be leaving in the morning.”
“You’re going to stay,” Mark replied confidently. He walked over to the bedroom door and rapped on it, then smiled at April. “We had a family meeting. The ranch is going to stay open and you will have a job.”
“But your father hired me, and now he’s gone. Perhaps your brother will want to interview—”
“You have the job,” Mark interrupted her, then knocked once again on the door. “Brian, come out.”
The door opened and Brian stepped out, a mulish expression on his face. “What?” he said with more than a touch of belligerence.
“Come and eat,” Mark said.
“I’m not hungry,” Brian said, but he moved closer to the table, and his eyes widened at the sight of the chocolate cake. “Well, maybe I could eat just a little,” he said and slid into one of the chairs at the table.
“Go on,” Mark urged April into the other chair, then he shoved the suitcase over and sank onto the sofa.
“This was so incredibly kind of you,” April said, her gaze so warm on him, he could feel the heat clear down to his toes.
He nodded and fell silent, afraid of saying too much, not wanting to expose himself, yet wishing to hell he could reveal himself to her.
He wanted to know where she and Brian were from, how Adam had come to hire her, what forces had driven her here. He wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked, if it would be warm and inviting beneath his touch.
And he wanted to know why her beautiful, thick-lashed eyes emitted such fragility. He had a feeling keeping up his act with her was going to be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

April ate self-consciously, unsure what to make of the man who sat on the sofa. His kindness in bringing them dinner had nearly undone her, and it was only with enormous effort that she hadn’t cried.
She only picked at the food on her plate, finding Mark Delaney far more interesting than chicken and beans. He was a fascinating dichotomy, his face an arresting contrast of darkness and light.
With his strong, bold features, short black hair and thick dark brows over dark gray-blue eyes, he emitted an aura of hard arrogance, of cool confidence that was instantly dispelled by the sweet gentleness of his smile.
It was such a refreshing change from the men in her past, the two men who had betrayed her on every level possible. She shoved this thought aside, refusing to drown in past regrets. She also shoved aside her plate and left the table.
She moved the suitcase to the floor and joined Mark on the sofa. “I want to thank you again, Mark, for your thoughtfulness,” she said.
He shrugged and smiled. “I’d be glad to get the rest of your stuff from the car. You’re staying— I mean, if you want to stay.”
“We can stay?” Brian jumped up from the table and looked at Mark hopefully. “Really and truly?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Mark replied solemnly. “You like horses?”
“Well, sure,” Brian replied. “But I don’t know much about them. But I could learn,” he hurriedly added. “Maybe you could hire me to help in the stables. You don’t have to pay me a lot, just some so I can help Mom.”
His eagerness caused an ache in April’s heart. Her little boy, trying so hard to be a man. He should be spending his summer vacation playing with friends, listening to music and conquering video games. Instead he was worrying about getting a job and helping take care of living expenses. How had their world gotten so topsy-turvy?
“Brian, let’s take things one step at a time,” April warned. As much as she’d love to take this handsome cowboy at his word, she had a feeling his word probably didn’t carry much weight and it was Matthew Delaney who would make the decision about whether they remained here.
“Brian, if you’re finished eating, it’s time for a shower,” April said.
He started to balk. April knew the idea of a shower to her son was as abhorrent as kissing a girl. But, having just asked Mark about a job, Brian apparently thought a temper tantrum might not be in his best interest. He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Where’s his dad?” Mark asked.
“Gone.” The word fell flatly from her.
“Like mine.”
She nodded, although it wasn’t quite the same. Derrick wasn’t dead. He was someplace alive and kicking, never staying in one place long enough for creditors to find him. “You mentioned a family meeting. Besides Matthew do you have other brothers and sisters?”
Mark nodded. “Luke. He’s a mess. That’s what Matthew says.”
April laughed, finding his candor refreshing. “Matthew, Mark and Luke,” she said.
“And Johnna, my sister.”
“Your father was a religious man, I take it.”
“My aunt Clara says he was a religious man only on Sundays.” Mark grinned as she laughed once more. “You sound nice when you laugh.”
“Thank you.” April was surprised to feel a warm blush creep over her features. She stood, vaguely uncomfortable with the feelings he evoked in her…feelings she’d believed long dead.
“I’ll put the leftovers in the basket, and you can take them back with you,” she said, busying herself with clearing the table.
“Just keep them.” He joined her near the table. “You didn’t have a piece of cake.”
“No,” she agreed.
“You don’t like chocolate?” He gazed at her with studied intensity and April found her breath catching in her chest. He looked at her with the eyes of a man who knew what he wanted…and might just want her.
She broke the gaze, heat swirling inside her. “I love chocolate.”
“Good, then let’s have a piece of cake.” His big capable hand swallowed hers as he grabbed it and pulled her into a chair at the table. He released her hand and gestured toward the cake in the center of the table.
Suddenly a piece of cake sounded good.
“Lucinda is the best baker in the entire world,” he said as she cut them each a piece.
“Lucinda?”
“She’s our cook. She’s sort of taken care of us since we were all little.” He took a bite of his cake. “Where did you live before you came here?”
She mentally shifted gears in order to keep up with his ever-changing topics of conversation. “We’re from Tulsa, Oklahoma.”
“Did you know my father?” he asked.
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. Although my father knew him.” April shoved the last of her cake aside; as always, thoughts of her father filled her with incredible ambiguity.
She’d loved her father with all her heart, but the man she’d always believed would protect her and love her had ultimately betrayed her as badly as her husband had.
“I’ve made you sad.” Mark’s gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked at him, surprised by his sharp sensitivity and the empathy that radiated from his eyes.
“No,” she protested. “You haven’t made me sad.” She sighed. “Lately life has made me sad.”
“How come?” His big, broad hand moved to cover hers, its warmth as intense as the midday Inferno sun. Again April felt as if she couldn’t get enough air, as if somehow his touch displaced the oxygen in the room.
She wanted to tell him never mind, but his soft gaze held hers, and a slight pressure from his hand over hers encouraged the words to fall from her.
As nice as his hand felt covering hers, she pulled hers away and stood. Someplace in the back of her mind, she knew it was crazy to tell this man, this stranger, her life story.
Maybe the fact that she figured he probably wouldn’t understand all of it and couldn’t really judge her, made it seem overwhelmingly easy to consider baring her soul.
But that didn’t explain why his simple touch affected her so. “Let’s just say I have a terrible habit of trusting the wrong people,” she finally said, deciding baring one’s soul was far overrated.
At that moment, before Mark could make any reply, Brian came out of the bathroom clad in his usual sleeping attire, an oversize T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. “Hey, you guys had cake without me,” he protested.
“You can have yours now,” April replied.
Brian sat down in the chair where April had been and gazed at Mark eagerly. “Do you know how to ride buckin’ broncos and throw a lasso?”
Mark grinned, a slow, lazy expression that stirred fire in April’s veins. Despite his apparent slightly diminished mental capacity, she found him disturbingly attractive. There was something very sexy in his smile and a knowing glint that sparked in the depths of his eyes. “Sure,” he replied.
“Could you teach me how to ride broncos and throw a lasso?” Brian asked.
“Maybe,” Mark said, then frowned. “Although we ought to start off with the rope instead of riding a bronco.”
April smiled at him. “I think that’s definitely wise.”
“It’s wise? Good.” Mark grinned, as if extremely satisfied with himself.
April’s heart constricted with compassion. She wondered if Mark had been born slow, or if he’d had an accident as a child.
Her compassion had nothing to do with pity. It was difficult to pity a man who, despite any mental imperfections, exuded such quiet strength, who seemed to fit so well in his own skin and who radiated peace and happiness despite any depth of intelligence he might be lacking. It was impossible to pity a man who looked sexy enough to make her knees weaken.
“Tell me about the horses,” Brian asked, leaning forward eagerly.
As Mark talked about the horses and his responsibilities with them, April leaned against the refrigerator, entranced by the transformation that seemed to occur in him.
He began haltingly, his words and descriptions coming as if through sheer, intense concentration alone. But it was obvious the topic of conversation was one he felt comfortable with, confident about, and that confidence shone from his eyes, filling them with a compelling animation and life that had been heretofore missing.
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. April opened it to see Matthew Delaney.
“Good evening,” he greeted her, his gaze instantly going beyond her to Brian and Mark at the table. “Mark, I wondered where you’d gone to.”
“I’m right here,” Mark replied.
“Yes, I can see that now.” Matthew focused his attention back on April. “It appears that we’ll be keeping the ranch open for the time being, so if you’re still interested in the position of social director, it’s yours.”
April’s heart soared. “Yes…oh, yes, I want the job.”
Matthew nodded, his stern features not relaxing at all. “If you’ll come to the house tomorrow around noon, we’ll go over the terms of your employment and I’ll give you all the files from the previous social director.”
“Thank you so much. I promise you won’t be sorry,” she exclaimed.
Again he nodded as his gaze sought his brother. “Mark, it’s getting late. You need to come back to the house now.”
Mark stood and clapped Brian on the back. “If you want to start work, be at the stables at seven in the morning.”
“Cool!” Brian exclaimed. “I’ll be there.”
Mark stepped out onto the porch with his brother, then smiled at April, that warm smile that forged a path straight to her heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow, April.”
She nodded. “Good night, Mark.”
She remained on the porch and watched the two brothers walking away. They were like bookends, equal in height and breadth of shoulder, but she found nothing particularly pleasing or attractive about Matthew Delaney.
With a sigh she turned and went back into the small cottage. Minutes later she tucked Brian into bed. It had been a long day, most of it spent in the confines of the car, and although it was relatively early, his eyelids drooped with sleepiness.
“Don’t forget to wake me up early,” Brian said. “I’ve got to be in the stables by seven.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you up in time,” she assured him. She stroked a strand of his dark hair off his forehead, as always marveling how much the child looked like his father. It was as if Brian had been cloned from Derrick’s rib and had nothing of her physical characteristics.
There were times in the dark of night when April’s biggest fear was that her son would grow up to be just like Derrick—a weak man without character, without good values. The only two men who had been a part of Brian’s life, who had any profound influence, had been sad, weak imitations of men.
“Mom? Something’s wrong with Mark, isn’t it?” Brian eyed her sleepily.
“Yes, honey. I think maybe something is wrong. I think maybe he’s just a little slow.”
“But he’s not stupid,” Brian replied.
“No, I don’t think he’s stupid.”
“It’s okay if I like him, isn’t it?”
April smiled at her son. “Yes, it’s okay that you like him.”
“Good.” Brian closed his eyes and within moments was fast asleep.
April remained seated on the edge of the bed, watching her son sleep. For the past two months, since her own father’s death, Brian had been unruly, difficult and possessing a simmering anger that had April at her wit’s end. But from the moment he’d learned they were staying here, and while he’d been interacting with Mark, he’d transformed back to the child of her heart, with smiles and good humor.
April left the bedroom and closed the door behind her, her thoughts filled with Mark Delaney. Certainly April wasn’t looking for an intimate relationship with any man, but friendship would be nice, especially for Brian’s sake.
As she went into her own bedroom, she realized this was the first time in as long as she could remember that thoughts of tomorrow didn’t bring despair, but rather brought hope.

Chapter 3
It was just before ten when April walked toward the stables in search of Brian. She needed to go into the small town of Inferno and pick up some groceries, since it appeared they were going to stay.
She’d slept better than she had since her father’s death. No dreams had haunted her, no worries had kept sleep at bay. She’d awakened at dawn, feeling for the first time in a long time that she was ready to take on her future.
Already the sun was intense, heating her shoulders and the back of her neck where she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and exposed pale, untanned skin. She tried to imagine what the heat would be like in July or August, but found it impossible to envision.
Brian wasn’t in the stables, so April decided to try the barn. The structure rose before her but there was no sign of Brian anywhere around the outside. She opened the large, double door and stepped into the interior, where she was instantly greeted by the scent of dust, grain, hay and leather.
Although she didn’t immediately see Brian, she heard the murmur of voices in the distance. She followed the voices to a small tack room where Brian and Mark were working side by side. They had their backs to her, and for a moment she merely watched, not alerting them to her presence.
Brian was oiling a saddle, and Mark was watching him. “Make sure you’re getting it into all the cracks,” Mark said.
“Like this?” Brian asked.
Mark watched a moment. “Perfect,” he replied, then patted Brian’s back. “You’re doing a great job.” Brian appeared to grow taller beneath Mark’s praise.
April’s heart expanded with love for her son and gratitude for the man who was taking time with him. Brian had such a hunger inside him, a hunger for male companionship, a hunger that radiated from his eyes and made April feel helplessly inadequate.
“Hi,” she said.
They both spun around at the sound of April’s voice.
“Hi, Mom.” Brian’s smile was huge, and April tried to remember when she’d seen him look so genuinely happy. It had been a long time…too long. Especially since his grandfather’s death, Brian had been a powder keg of emotions, sometimes exploding in a burst of anger or simply simmering in sullen silence. It was good to see his eyes sparkling with pleasure for a change.
“Hi, April.” Mark swept his hat off his head. “We’re just oiling down some tack.” His smile warmed her as effectively as the sun outside. Why was she so drawn to this man, she wondered.
She walked over and placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “I was wondering if I could borrow this cowboy for an hour or so. I’ve got to get into town and get some supplies.”
“Okay,” Mark agreed easily. He set his hat on a workbench and picked up a towel and wiped his hands. “Mind if I join you?”
April looked at him in surprise, unsure how to reply. “I…well, sure…if it’s all right.”
“All right?” He gazed at her blankly.
“All right with your brother.” April felt the warmth of a blush steal over her cheeks. It seemed odd telling a grown man he’d better check with his brother before going into town. But she knew Mark was no ordinary grown man.
“It’s all right,” he assured her. He handed Brian the towel.
“Then, let’s go,” Brian said enthusiastically.
Although April was not particularly comforted by Mark’s reassurance that it would be fine if he went along, she didn’t know how to gracefully ask him to check with his older brother.
She didn’t know many cowboys, but she suspected they were a breed of men with a tall share of pride. The last thing she wanted to do was wound Mark’s pride. “Okay, let’s go.”
As they walked from the barn to the car, April shot him a surreptitious glance. He looked like a poster image for the Old West with his hat riding low on his forehead and shadowing his features and his worn jeans hugging the length of his long legs.
April tore her gaze from the handsome cowboy and instead focused on her son, who was chattering about all the things he’d learned that morning. “Did you know a horse will eat oats and grain until it gets sick? Mark says they don’t have sense enough to stop once they start.”
April smiled. “I thought only eleven-year-old boys did that.”
“Ah, Mom,” Brian said with a giggle. He got into the back seat, leaving the front passenger seat for Mark.
Moments later April was driving toward the small town of Inferno, trying to ignore the pleasant scent that wafted from the man next to her. He smelled like the sun, mingled with minty soap and the whisper of an earthy cologne.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, April searching for some topic of pleasant conversation.
“Mom, why don’t you turn on the radio?” Brian asked, as if the silence bothered him.
“Won’t do you much good,” Mark replied. “Inferno only picks up one signal, and it’s a local channel owned by old man Butterfield.”
“What kind of music do they play?” Brian asked.
“Not much. About the only time the station has music is when Butterfield lets his wife or his daughter sing.” A charming, slightly mischievous smile lit Mark’s features. “They’re nice people, but when they sing, one sounds like a cow giving birth and the other sounds like a baby calf bawling for its mama.”
April laughed, and Brian giggled. “I think maybe we’ll skip the radio,” April said.
“Besides, if the radio is playing, it’s harder to talk,” Mark observed.
“What do you want to talk about?” Brian asked. He leaned forward, half hanging over the front seat.
“Why don’t we talk about car safety?” April suggested. “Sit back and buckle up.”
“Ah, Mom, I’m not a baby,” Brian protested.
“A cowboy never rides in a car without buckling in,” Mark replied sternly.
To April’s astonishment Brian sat back and buckled up. April flashed Mark a grateful smile. “Tell me more about cowboys,” Brian said eagerly.
Mark turned slightly in his seat, so he was facing April and able to gaze at Brian in the back. He flashed an easy grin. “What do you want to know about them?”
“I want to know everything about them, ’cause I want to be one,” Brian exclaimed fervently.
“Cowboys are men who live by a code of honor.”
“A code of honor?” Brian’s voice held a touch of awe. “What’s that mean?”
“It means you mind your mama, you take care of your horse and you never lose your hat.”
“I don’t even have a hat,” Brian said mournfully.
“We’ll get you one after payday, Brian,” April promised, grateful he’d mentioned the lack of a hat and not the omission of a horse in his life. She could probably swing a cowboy hat out of her first paycheck, but a horse would be impossible.
Within minutes they’d arrived in the small town of Inferno. Built on a square, the little town didn’t appear to even try to compete with the impressive courthouse at its center. With its wide concrete walkway and four stories of steel and glass, the courthouse looked as incongruous as a magnolia blooming in the middle of the sand.
The rest of the buildings that comprised the town of Inferno were one-story, earth-tone adobe and stucco that gave the impression of longevity and a peaceful coexistence with the desert that surrounded them.
“You can park there.” Mark pointed to an empty space in front of a grocery store.
April pulled into the parking space and shut off the engine. “What a charming little town,” she said as the three of them got out of the car.
“Come on. Before you buy groceries, I’ll show you all my favorite stores,” Mark said as he clapped his hat back on top of his head.
As the three of them started down the sidewalk, April looked around with interest. Would this little town eventually feel like home? Could she and Brian find happiness here?
“There’s the diner,” Mark said, pointing a finger at the storefront with two potted cacti like sentries guarding the door. “They have good apple pie, but don’t eat the meat loaf surprise. It’s awful.”
April laughed. “Meat loaf isn’t particularly a favorite of mine, anyway.”
She was overly conscious of his nearness, of the scent of him wrapping around her as he walked close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.
“Wow, look!” Brian pointed to a store up ahead, where the window display consisted of a half-dozen ornate saddles and matching bridles.
“That’s the tack shop and next to it is the post office,” Mark said.
As he pointed out various places of interest, it was easy for April to forget that he was mentally impaired. He exuded an enthusiasm that was contagious and a candor that was refreshing.
He’d be easy to spend time with, she thought. A good companion who held no threat either emotionally or financially. A friend. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a friend, and the concept of Mark filling that space in her life warmed her. Perhaps warmed her a tad too much, she thought ruefully.
They stopped when they had gone completely around the square and were back to where April’s car was parked.
“I’ve got stuff to do at some other stores,” Mark said. “I’ll just meet you back here in a few minutes.”
April watched helplessly as he ambled down the sidewalk away from her and Brian. He walked with a masculine grace and for a moment April was completely engrossed in watching the slight sway of his slender hips and the awesome width of his shoulders.
She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in letting him go off on his own. She’d hate to have to go back to the ranch and tell Matthew Delaney that she’d lost his brother.
“Mom?” Brian stared at her impatiently. “Are we going food shopping or what?”
“Yes, we’re going food shopping,” she said. As she and Brian entered the small grocery store, she shoved her concerns about Mark aside. She had more important concerns—like how to buy the maximum amount of food with a minimum amount of cash.

Mark had discovered that an eleven-year-old boy could be a veritable font of information. Through Brian’s early-morning chatter, Mark had learned that April was almost thirty years old, her favorite color was turquoise and sometimes at night she cried when she thought Brian couldn’t hear her.
When Rachel had left Mark three years ago and married Samuel Rogers from the ranch nearest the Delaney place, Mark had sworn that he’d never get involved with any woman again.
Rachel had taken his heart, then twisted and mashed it when she’d told him she’d never believed any of the Delaney men would make good husbands or fathers. A month before their wedding date, she’d broken off the relationship and had left Mark bloody and defeated in the arena of romance.
Deep down he knew Rachel had been right in her assessment of him. None of the Delaney men was a good husband or father prospect. Even Johnna hadn’t managed to find a relationship that worked for her.
When she’d been eighteen, she’d dated the bad boy of town, Jerrod McCain, but Jerrod had disappeared from her life before her miscarriage, and as far as Mark knew, Johnna had never allowed anyone close to her again.
Matthew had always been too obsessed with the ranch to sustain any relationships, and Luke played at love, enjoying his image as a wild, untamed rake.
The Delaneys were definitely stunted in their ability to maintain any kind of relationship with the opposite sex. Unsurprising, considering they didn’t even have good relationships with each other.
No, Mark didn’t want a romance with April. He recognized his own inability, the inadequacies in himself that made him a bad candidate for romance. But that didn’t mean his fingers didn’t itch to touch the gold of April’s hair, and he had to confess the scent of her stirred him like no woman had in a very long time.
He walked into the Western clothing store, the small cowbell over the door announcing to the owner that somebody had entered the premises.
“Mark,” John Shaffer, the owner of Western Wear, greeted him with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. His grizzled brow wrinkled in concern as he pumped Mark’s hand. “How you feeling? I haven’t seen you since your accident.”
“I’m okay.”
John’s hand was warm around Mark’s. “I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man, Mark.”
Mark nodded, surprised that the kind words about his father brought a lump to his throat. “Matthew says I need some new jeans.” Mark forced himself to smile the empty expression that he’d perfected over the past several weeks.
John released his hand. “Oh, sure. We can get you set up with a new pair of jeans.”
Mark didn’t miss the look of pity that flashed momentarily across John’s features. Pity. That was the worst part of his subterfuge. The pity he saw on good people’s faces, and the smirking derision he saw on not-so-good people’s faces.
At least he had yet to see pity on April’s face. He’d seen curiosity, bewilderment and interest, but thankfully not pity.
It took only minutes for Mark to get the jeans and charge them to the Delaney account. As he was leaving the store, his attention was captured by the hat display. The wall section held hats of various sizes and styles, including one just like Mark’s, only sized to fit a boy’s head.
It’s not my job to buy that boy a hat, Mark told himself as he moved closer to the display. That kid is nothing to me but a part-time helper in the stables.
He already regretted the impulse that had prompted him to be friendly to April and Brian. He had no time for any kind of relationships, and Rachel had made it quite clear he wasn’t very good at them. He needed to back away from April and her son. He was pretending to be something he was not, and there was no guarantee they were going to manage to keep the ranch, no guarantee that April would be around for long.
Despite his internal protests to the contrary, he walked out of the store with both the jeans and the hat. In the distance he saw April and Brian exiting the grocery store, a cart laden with bags in front of them.
Perfect timing, he thought as he hurried toward them. When he reached them, April had opened the trunk and was beginning to unload the bags.
“Here, I’ll do that.” He threw his packages into one corner of the trunk, then began to unload the shopping cart.
“You should see all the good stuff Mom bought,” Brian said, dancing around Mark like a young colt with too much energy. “She bought frozen pizzas and cookies and chips.”
“Hmm, sounds good,” Mark said.
“And she bought chopped meat and said I could make hamburgers one night. Maybe you could eat dinner with us and taste my specialty burgers.” The boy’s need was in his eyes, the need to connect, and it was fierce in its hunger.
“Maybe,” Mark replied without commitment, realizing he definitely needed to put some distance between him and them. Brian’s hunger was too great, and Mark definitely wasn’t the man to fulfill the young boy’s needs. Whatever Brian was looking for in his life, whatever April might be seeking, Mark wasn’t the answer and never would be.
“Mark Delaney!”
The familiar feminine voice worked like cat claws on a blackboard, shooting irritation straight up his spine. He straightened from the trunk and eyed the attractive red-haired woman bearing down on them.
Molly Weiser. Mark stifled a groan. Of all the people in this world, there were two Mark hated coming face-to-face with—the first was Molly, followed closely by the devil himself.
“Mark, darling.”
Before he could successfully weave and dodge, he found himself embraced in a cloud of honeysuckle perfume, large silicon breasts pressed firmly against his chest.
“Molly…” He pulled her away from him and pointed to April. “This is my friend April and her son, Brian.”
“Hi, I’m April Cartwright. I’m working for the Delaneys,” April said.
“Indeed.” Molly’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. She looked to Mark and back to April. “And from all appearances, you’re a fast worker.”
April’s friendly smile faltered, and Mark wanted to throttle Molly, who turned back to Mark and grabbed his hand. “Darling, I’ve been wanting to see you since all the trouble, but that dreadful older brother of yours is quite off-putting. I’ve heard some stories that have had me worried sick about you.”
“I’m fine.” Mark pulled his hand from hers and grinned like a loony fool. “How are you?”
Molly’s brow wrinkled with concern, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. He knew what stories she’d probably heard—that he was addle brained—and he also knew she was weighing her options.
Molly was determined to marry a Delaney. She’d initially set her sights on Matthew, but when he refused to respond to her advances, she’d honed in on Mark. She’d been pursuing him for months. Now Mark was certain she was trying to decide if half a Delaney might not be just as good as a whole Delaney.
“We have to go,” he said to nobody in particular, just feeling the need to escape Molly’s cloying presence.
“I’ll call you, Mark,” Molly said. To Mark’s ears it sounded more threat than promise. “You owe me a dinner date.”
Mark loaded the last bag into the trunk and slammed the lid. As Molly wiggled her fingers goodbye, Mark, April and Brian got into the car.
For a long moment nobody spoke. April pulled out of the parking space and headed the car back toward the ranch.
Brian broke the silence. “She had the biggest ones I’ve ever seen.”
“Brian!” April exclaimed in protest, although Mark thought he saw a glimmer of laughter in her big green eyes.
“She bought them,” Mark replied. “She went to Tucson on vacation and came back three weeks later with big ones.”
“Wow,” Brian exclaimed as if the notion of women buying breasts was difficult to wrap his mind around. To tell the truth, it had always been difficult for Mark to understand.
“She should have bought a T-shirt or an ashtray instead,” Mark observed.
A giggle escaped April, the sound wonderfully feminine and appealing. “When I was little and we went on vacation, I collected bells.”
“I don’t have any collections ’cause I’ve never been anywhere,” Brian put in mournfully.
“You’re young. You’ve got plenty of time for collections,” Mark replied. He noticed April looking at him curiously and realized he’d been talking far too much.
As they approached the ranch, Mark drew into himself, his thoughts turning to Marietta and what information she might have had that had gotten her killed. Something was amiss at the Delaney Dude Ranch, but Mark had yet to discover exactly what it was. Every day that passed without answers only managed to feed his frustration.
The investigation into Marietta’s death and Mark’s injuries had been desultory at best by Sheriff Broder, who’d decided it was a crime of jealous rage perpetrated by a ranch hand who had subsequently disappeared.
Mark hadn’t told the sheriff what Marietta had shared with him. Her warning that it was possible the sheriff might be involved kept him mute where the specifics were concerned.
In two weeks the ranch would be jumping with guests, making his search for Marietta’s killer more complicated. And still he had nothing to go on concerning what activity Marietta had been talking about. He was beginning to wonder if his act was all for nothing.
“So, Mark, what are we going to do when we get back to the ranch?” Brian’s voice broke through Mark’s thoughts, and again Mark felt the boy’s hunger. “Maybe you could teach me to lasso?”
“Can’t,” Mark replied. “I have stuff to do this afternoon. You’re on your own for the rest of the day.”
He tried not to allow the boy’s disappointment to touch him. He had his own problems to deal with. He absolutely, positively refused to get caught up in April and Brian Cartwright.
“Brian, you can’t be bothering Mark all the time,” April told her son gently. “I’m sure he has more important things to do than teach you to throw a rope.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Mark said, hating the fact that despite his intentions, something in the boy’s eyes got to him.
“Great,” Brian agreed eagerly.
When they arrived at the cottage, April opened the trunk and handed Mark his packages. “Thanks, Mark, for the town tour and all your help.”
He nodded and pulled the hat from his bag. “Brian.” He tossed the boy the black hat.
Brian caught it with both hands, his eyes widening as he realized what he held. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “A hat just like yours.” In three long strides, he reached Mark and wrapped his arms awkwardly around Mark’s waist.
“Thanks, Mark.” Brian stepped away from him, his cheeks pinkened as if his display of affection had embarrassed him.
Mark turned to walk away, trying to ignore the sun-burst of warmth in the pit of his stomach.
“Mark.”
He paused and turned back to April. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.” He was rewarded by a smile from her that warmed him down to his toes and twisted something deep in his gut.
He suddenly realized he had to be careful. For some reason this woman and her son had the potential of touching him where he’d sworn he would never be touched again.

Chapter 4
As April made her way from her cottage to the main house for her noon appointment with Matthew Delaney, her heart still retained the warmth evoked by Mark’s generosity.
It had been a very long time since any man had shown April any act of kindness or benevolence. Mark’s gift of the hat to Brian, his gift of easy smiles and camaraderie to April, made her almost believe there were good men out there.
She’d almost forgotten that there were men who could be trusted, men who would never dream of taking advantage of a woman, men who didn’t know how to be dishonest or deceitful.
She thought of the red-haired woman they’d met in town. Molly something. She was extremely pretty but had a predatory hardness in her eyes when she’d gazed at Mark. The woman had implied a relationship with him, but had mentioned trouble.
What trouble? Perhaps she’d been talking about the death of Adam Delaney?
April had been oddly disappointed to realize Mark might have a relationship with the woman. The look in Molly’s eyes had made a protective streak surge up inside April where Mark was concerned.
She wasn’t sure where that feeling came from or, in truth, if it was really protectiveness or an odd pang of jealousy.
She certainly wasn’t looking for a relationship with any man and she had no idea of the extent of Mark’s mental disability. But whatever the disability, it certainly didn’t steal away from his attractiveness as a vital, sexy man.
She couldn’t help the way the warmth of his smile shot electric currents through her, how the strength in the rippling muscles and width of his shoulders made her want to melt into his embrace.
Dismissing thoughts of Mark, she stepped up on the porch of the main house and knocked on the door. Matthew answered, his stern features forbidding as he ushered her into an office off the entryway.
He stepped behind a large, wooden desk and gestured her to the chair in front of him. She eased down, wondering how two brothers could look so much alike yet be so different. Mark was warmth and laughter, but Matthew Delaney appeared cold and stern.
“Since we last spoke I found the letter from you to my father, and a copy of his letter to you detailing the terms of your employment,” Matthew said as he sat behind the desk. “I assume those terms are still agreeable?”
“Yes.”
“As I said last night, I can’t make any long-term promises to you concerning employment.” His eyes darkened. “I have no idea what the future holds for the Delaney Dude Ranch. However, should we have to breach the contract, you will receive the severance pay detailed in my father’s letter.”
April nodded and sighed inwardly with relief. “I’ll work for you as long as you need me.” She’d take whatever she could get in an attempt to get back on her feet financially.
He nodded and pulled a large manila folder from a drawer. “Here is the file of the former social director. She kept quite extensive notes and had many plans in the works. We open to a full crowd in two weeks. I’ll expect a detailed, workable plan from you in a week.” He handed her the thick file.
“The most important thing for you to remember is that it’s your job to see that every person who comes here is accommodated with fun things to do. You’ll need to set up activities for children, young couples and older people.”
April nodded, undaunted by the task ahead of her. She’d done much the same kind of work at the hotel where she’d worked previously. He returned her nod, and she realized it was a dismissal. She stood and started for the door.
“Ms. Cartwright?”
She paused in the doorway and turned back to him.
“Stay away from my brother.”
“Excuse me?” She frowned, wondering if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Stay away from Mark.” Matthew eyed her coldly. “I understand from your letter to my father that you’ve been through some bad times. It would be natural for you to see Mark as the answer to your financial problems. My brother is vulnerable and he has obviously taken a liking to you, but I won’t have him toyed with or hurt.”
“I have no intention of doing either,” April replied with a touch of coolness to her own voice.
“See that you don’t.” He broke his gaze with her and focused on the paperwork on his desk. Again April realized she’d been dismissed.
“Pompous ass,” April muttered beneath her breath as she headed for the front door. Imagine him even thinking that somehow she was setting Mark up, that she’d assessed him as weak and wealthy and might try to take advantage of that fact.
April gripped the folder more tightly against her chest, indignation sweeping through her. As if she could ever do to somebody else what had been done to her.
She swung open the door and smacked into a person coming in. “Oh…sorry,” she exclaimed to the dapper man in a light blue suit.
“Quite all right,” he replied, a friendly smile dancing his gray mustache upward. “Walter Tilley.” He held out a hand to her. “Family friend and lawyer to the Delaneys. And you must be the new social director, April Cartwright.”
“Yes, I am.” She shook his hand, then he stepped out on the porch with her.
“Matthew told me about you yesterday evening, and Mark’s mentioned your name several times. It’s good to have you on the team.”
She tried not to imagine what Matthew Delaney had said about her to the lawyer. At least Walter Tilley appeared friendly enough. “Thank you, it’s nice to be part of the team.”
Walter smoothed his mustache with the tip of his index finger. “Damn shame about what happened to Marietta.”
“Marietta?”
“Marietta Lopez. She was the former social director.” One of Walter’s gray-speckled eyebrows raised. “Nobody told you what happened to her?”
April shook her head. “I just assumed she quit.”
“She was murdered.”
April gasped, a cold wind blowing inside her. “Murdered?”
Walter nodded. “It was the same night Mark received his injuries.” April stared at him blankly, and Walter emitted a dry chuckle. “I shouldn’t be surprised that nobody has told you. The Delaneys don’t talk to many people. They barely talk to each other.”
“So, what happened?”
“Nobody is certain. Apparently Mark and Marietta met near the barn one night, and somebody hit them both over the head with a shovel. Marietta died and Mark sustained severe head injuries.”
Severe head injuries. So that explained what had happened to Mark and must have been the trouble Molly had mentioned. A wave of compassion swept through April, along with the horror of the entire situation. “Did they find out who did it?”
Walter frowned. “Sadly, no. Although the speculation is that perhaps one of the ranch hands who’d developed a liking for Marietta committed the horrible crime.” Walter shook his head. “Terrible tragedy and followed so closely by Adam’s heart attack and death.”
April’s ill feelings toward Matthew were tempered by this new knowledge of the string of tragedies that had affected the family.
And Mark… What had he been like before suffering such a dreadful crime? Were the injuries he’d suffered to his brain permanent?
Walter looked at his gold watch. “I’d better get inside. I have a meeting with Matthew, and he likes punctuality.” He offered her another friendly smile. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You, too.”
As April headed toward her cottage, her mind whirled with the information she’d just gained. A vicious murder, and a man left damaged. So Mark’s gorgeous eyes had not always held the vagueness, his smile had not always been so wide and innocent.

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