- -
- 100%
- +
“I’m sorry,” he said, his attention completely shot as he tore his gaze from Seton’s delectable rear view. “Did you say you’d been married?”
“Mmm.” She sat back down and stared at him, her eyes clear and matter-of-fact. “It’s not an experience I’m pining to repeat, to be honest.” She picked up a lone file folder on her desk, consulted it for a moment, then tapped for a few moments on the keys of her open laptop. “But after your business offer—”
“Proposal.”
She looked at him again. “One can’t really call that a proposal, Sam. It was all about business. Your business. The only thing you forgot was something for the other party. Negotiations tend to be short-lived when one party wants something and the other wants nothing.”
“I mentioned there would be financial compensation, Seton,” Sam said.
“Which sounds unethical.”
“Oh,” he said. “I see where you’re coming from.”
“I doubt it.” Her tone was cool as she returned her gaze to the computer screen. “But in the spirit of friendship, and I suppose we’ll have to have some kind of friendship since we’re both living in Diablo, I did a little searching for you.”
“I don’t need you to search out a wife for me,” Sam said, feeling crusty. “I’m not going to make my offer to just any woman. Thanks.”
“About your parents,” Seton said, shooting him a glare. “Forget about the marriage bit—that horse isn’t going to run. Let’s focus on the real problem you have, which is that you said you didn’t know who you are.”
He raised a hand. “I’m not in a hurry to find out.”
“It seemed like that was your big hang-up when you were in here the other day. Your real reason for wanting a wife. An anchor, if you will.”
Sam shrugged. “Wrong theory, Miss Marple. Anyway, you’re going out of order. I came here to talk about marriage. Not myself.”
“I’m not accepting your proposal.”
Well, wasn’t she just the most stubborn little thing? It was almost cute. There was something between them, even if she didn’t care to notice it. Sam supposed a woman didn’t decide to become a detective without some good ol’ ornery in her makeup. Seton was so no-nonsense she probably scared most men.
Sam liked a challenge, and the more pretzel-like the chase, the better. He figured he’d be a pretty poor lawyer if he didn’t crave a good knuckle-cracking challenge. He leaned his chin on his fingertips and tried to think where he was going wrong here. It was really important that Seton say yes. Marriage would solve everything for him. He wouldn’t be the last one on the range. What man wanted to cross the finish line last? He sure as hell didn’t. Jonas would be much better at being the family wallflower. Frankly, things were awkward now at family gatherings. There were all his brothers, their wives, their children—and him and Jonas. Like a date, or an old pair of doting uncles who couldn’t measure up to what a woman needed in life. He hated being Sam the Single Callahan.
Besides, he had a yen for Seton.
He sighed. “So what did you find, Snoopy?”
“Snoopy?”
“Did I ask you to snoop around in my life? I asked you to marry me, not go on a hunt for clues.” Sam couldn’t help the grieved tone in his voice. “I guess that would come with the territory, though.”
“What territory?” Seton shot him an annoyed glance of her own.
“Marrying a private investigator. You’d always be digging around, looking for stuff. Frankly, I don’t have that many fossils to unearth.” He spread his hands wide. “I’m a pretty simple guy, actually. I just want a companion. I want to get married so Fiona won’t fix me up.”
“She’s in Ireland.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that matters,” Sam said darkly. “Fiona would send over a mail-order bride if she could find one who could finesse me to the altar.”
“Maybe she should,” Seton said sweetly. “Since all you want is a name on a piece of paper.”
He looked at her. “All right. I get that you’re not impressed. But what would you do in my place? Just think about it for a moment.”
Seton shook her head. “Maybe this will help you. There are no records of your parents in Diablo. Not their births, obviously. But there are no records of their deaths.”
“Did I ask?” Sam snapped.
She narrowed her gaze on him. “If you don’t want to know what I found, I certainly won’t reveal it, Sam.”
“I’m not paying for it.” He leaned back again, noting that his gut was all churned up.
She shrugged. “I didn’t ask you for anything.”
This was true. He chafed at the reminder that only he seemed to want something. He admired her independence, even while it annoyed him. “I don’t appreciate you being nosy,” he said.
She turned off her computer. “I apologize.”
“You were trying to help me find myself,” Sam said, “but see, I don’t want to be found.”
She looked at him. Confronted with knowing that his past was a very empty one made him irritable. If there were no death records in this county, then his parents had died somewhere else. Fiona had never been clear on that. They’d always known they should have asked her, but Sam more than anyone didn’t want to know. Because once he asked, he was going to find out that his parents weren’t the same as his brothers’. There was no other reason for Jonas to remember that Sam had come “later”—after their parents had died.
He stood. “You’re right. We wouldn’t suit. I’m looking for a simplifier in my life. You wouldn’t be simple.”
She blinked. “Sam, I apologize for offending you. I just searched public records. It wasn’t like it took me more than five minutes to look through records that are open to anyone—”
He shoved his hat on his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Thanks, though.”
He departed, and Seton thought she’d never seen Sam move so quickly. She sighed. It was going to be awkward now every time they ran into each other in town. He hadn’t wanted to know anything about his life—had run from learning anything at all.
How did a woman accept a man’s offer when he claimed he didn’t know who he was?
Seton turned back to the case she’d accepted yesterday, involving a woman who thought her sister was siphoning off her funds by using her identity. Identity theft wasn’t as interesting as missing persons work, but Sam didn’t want to be found, and this job paid, so Seton sent Sam out of her mind.
She had to stop thinking about how very much she’d actually considered saying yes to his outrageous proposal.
“MAYBE AUNT CORINNE HAD a point,” Sabrina said when Seton called her that night. “Maybe you should have played it out awhile, at least until you’d figured out what he really wanted. The Callahans are crazy, but they’re crazy like foxes. There’s a method to their madness. And I think Sam wasn’t being honest with you or himself about his true motivation.”
Seton shifted on her hard wooden chair in her office. “He’ll have to find someone else to fill the check box on his life list.”
“Maybe that’s not all Sam wants.”
“It’s all he thinks he wants,” Seton pointed out.
Sabrina laughed. “I don’t remember any of the Callahan brothers going down easily.”
“We have nothing in common,” Seton assured her older sister, “and I don’t want a second failed marriage.” She idly rearranged the pencils and pens in her desk. “What would you do if Jonas came to you with the same proposition?”
“Why do you bring up Jonas?”
Seton heard the sudden tension in her sister’s voice. “Sam seems to think Jonas is calling you for a reason.”
“Probably. The Callahans do very little without a reason. It’s usually nothing that reveals itself to a serene mind, though. And I aim for serenity, as you know. So I don’t think about why he calls. I just chat with him for a minute or two until he gets it out of his system, and then I make an excuse to get off the phone.”
Seton wrinkled her nose. “Still, what would you do if Jonas offered you what Sam offered me?”
There was silence for a few moments. “Well,” Sabrina said, “since I’m pregnant, I’d very likely say yes.”
“What?” Seton was so flustered she didn’t know what to say. It was impossible to imagine her sister being pregnant. Sabrina hadn’t had a boyfriend in—”Is it Jonas’s?”
“Yes. But you can’t tell him.”
“Wait.” Seton leaned back in the chair, stretching her feet out in front of her and slipping off her pumps. Her head ached, her feet ached and her whole world seemed to be spinning on a twisted axis since she’d returned to Diablo. “When you did you two have a thing?”
“A fling,” Sabrina said, “and it happened when I was living upstairs at the Callahans.”
Seton frowned. “You two were certainly quiet about it. No one seems to know that you and Jonas were even interested in each other.”
“We’re not. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean it was a serious relationship. In spite of my best efforts and my diaphragm, I seem to have fallen under the Callahan charm.”
“Congratulations,” Seton said. “What do you mean, you’re not going to tell him? You’re planning to, right?”
She waited with some alarm for her sister’s answer. Which turned out to be exactly what she’d feared.
“No, I’m not. Jonas doesn’t want children, and he doesn’t want to get married. He was having a grand time watching his brothers rush to the altar, and planned on being the sole Callahan bachelor. He’s already bought his own piece of property, Dark Diablo. I’m not sure anyone knows he’s actually made the purchase. I can’t tell you how many times Jonas told me that Fiona might run his brothers around with her Grand Plan, but he’d figured out the best way to avoid the whole thing altogether.”
“I can’t believe this,” Seton murmured. “I’m going to be an aunt.”
“Not if you give away my secret,” her sister said. “I’ll revoke aunt privileges.”
Seton frowned. “I think your pregnancy will be obvious when you come back to Diablo, Sabrina.”
“I don’t plan on coming back. Ever.”
“You have to tell him sometime.” Seton felt as if the tables had been turned between the older sister and the younger, and now she was in charge of the scolding. “It’s not fair to the baby not to know his father.”
“That comes later,” Sabrina said. “Trust me, I have a plan. After the baby is born, I’ll tell him.”
Seton frowned again. “Why after?”
“Because all the Callahans have managed to get married before their babies were born, as I recall, or very shortly thereafter. I don’t want Jonas suffering a similar attack of conscience.”
“That’s terrible,” Seton said. “What about the poor child?”
“The poor child will be fine. I’m sure that he or she will later appreciate that I didn’t try to tie Dad down.”
“I don’t know,” Seton murmured slowly, and Sabrina said, “Back to your question.”
“What question?”
“About Sam’s proposal.”
“Actually, the question that got us here was what would you say if Jonas offered you the same proposal. You said you’d accept!” Seton exclaimed with delight. “Therefore, it only makes sense for you to tell him.”
“The proposal under consideration,” Sabrina reminded her, “is ‘marry me, Seton, and it’ll be a name-only thing, just to satisfy the family requirements.’ I would take that deal. But I’m not being offered anything by Jonas.”
“But you might be!” Seton felt compelled to fight for her niece or nephew’s sake. After all, aunts were meant to be advocates, weren’t they? “If you’d tell him!”
“The difference is, your deal is that there’ll be no babies, no sex,” Sabrina pointed out. “I can assure you that Jonas and I could never strike that bargain. Obviously, we’ve already had sex, and if we got within a mile of each other, we probably would again. But you and Sam—”
“Never would,” Seton said, somewhat morosely. “He made that pretty clear.”
“Exactly. So you’re in a stronger position.”
“Why?” Seton flexed her feet and shoved them back into her pumps. Her head was spinning, and she was ready to head out into the already dark street of Diablo. “You’re having a baby. I want a baby, and won’t get one from Sam.”
“I’ll leave you to figure out those details,” Sabrina said.
Seton flipped off her office lights and locked the door, stuffing her keys into her briefcase as she walked down the hall, cell phone to her ear. “Don’t you want to wear the magic wedding gown? It’s yours, Sabrina, after all.”
“No, I don’t. It was Mom’s, Seton. It’s only magic because it was Mom’s. I had nothing to do with that. I’ve been thrilled for other women to wear it and know their true love. Me? I’m just happy I’m going to be a mother, to be honest.”
Seton headed out into the brisk night air and glanced up at the stars. “I miss you. I can’t bear that you won’t ever come back to Diablo. Why didn’t you tell me that when I was in D.C. with you?”
“Because I had a strong feeling there was someplace else you belonged. And I’ve really gotten into this animal activist stuff,” Sabrina said. “That undercover investigation we did with the circus really fired me up. There’s a whole lot I can do, Seton. Next week, I get to speak before a committee on animal abuse. I like it here in D.C. And it’ll be a great place to raise a child.”
“Sure,” Seton said, not convinced. “Thanks for the chat, sis.”
“No problem. Go get him, is my advice.”
“I don’t want—” Seton began, but Sabrina had already hung up. “I don’t want him,” she murmured, walking to her car, not noticing the figure leaning against the door.
“Working late?” Sam asked, and Seton gasped.
“Sam!” She tossed her cell into her briefcase, feeling a little guilty about talking about him. She hoped he hadn’t heard anything she’d said. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting on you. How about we discuss things over a drink at Banger’s?”
Seton looked at Sam, thinking about her sister’s pregnancy. She couldn’t have a drink with Sam. If she did, she might start talking and unload Sabrina’s secret. It weighed so heavily on her now. “I don’t think so.”
“C’mon,” Sam said, “you look like you could use a chardonnay.”
“I could,” Seton said, “but I think Aunt Corinne is waiting on me with tea and cookies.”
“Nah. She’s playing bingo. I just saw her at the Books’n’Bingo with the blue-haired crowd. That means,” Sam said, with his trademark Callahan smile, “that I’m all yours for the evening, doll.”
Chapter Three
“I owe you an apology for my behavior earlier,” Sam said. Seton rattled him more easily than anyone he could remember, and that included judges and fellow lawyers.
“No need to apologize. I shouldn’t have looked for your family records.”
“You were trying to help. I appreciate that. Like you said, anyone could have found the same information,” Sam stated, ignoring her reluctance to accompany him by placing a hand under her elbow and guiding her toward Banger’s. “However, I need a wife more than a P.I. now.”
Seton pulled her arm away from his grasp and gave him a stern look. “I absolutely refuse to discuss weddings, marriage or proposals of any kind.”
“Suit yourself, doll,” Sam said as he led her into Banger’s. “Let me take that suitcase from you. It looks so heavy for such a delicate lady.”
She snatched her briefcase away. “Don’t patronize me, you ape. Or you’ll be sipping chardonnay with someone else tonight.”
He grinned. “I like a woman with spirit. I’m sure that’s obvious.”
“Well, I don’t like you,” she returned as she slid into a booth. “So don’t push your luck.”
Sam grinned and told himself that if he took things real slow with Seton, maybe, just maybe, he’d end up with her in his bed eventually. Of course, that would throw off the marriage-in-name-only angle. He studied her more carefully, and wondered if marriage-in-bed-only was more his game, anyway.
SETON FELT AS IF a wolf was watching her all night long. Okay, maybe she and Sam had been at Banger’s for only two hours, but she felt as if he was waiting to pounce on her. He watched her every move. She drank her wine faster, and didn’t decline when he ordered taquitos and Southwestern wraps. And more wine.
Somewhere along the way, she found herself having fun. “I’ve had enough,” Seton finally said, waving away the waiter with the liberal hand at pouring. “No more for me or I’m going to sprout grapevines.”
“The night’s still young.”
Young enough to get in trouble. “I’d better be going, Sam.” But she didn’t move. It was cozy in Banger’s, and the booth they’d been given was private and lit by candles. Seton told herself to relax; Sam wasn’t going to spring on her. And the fact that her sister was pregnant by his brother shouldn’t make her uneasy.
Of course, it did. She was worried for Sabrina, and Jonas, and the baby. The situation gnawed at her. Seton sipped at her wine, reminding herself that her sister’s life was her own.
“Jonas is driving me nuts,” Sam said. “He spends all his time hanging around the ranch. He won’t go out. He’s about as much fun as wet socks. I don’t know what his problem is.”
Seton shook her head. “Ask him.”
“He grunts by way of pleasantries these days.” Sam gazed at her. “How’s Sabrina, anyway?”
“Enjoying what she’s doing, I think.” Seton stared at Sam’s mouth and fleetingly wished they were kissing and not talking as if they were just friends.
He drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t suppose she’ll be coming back to Diablo anytime soon.”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s too bad. A little female companionship might be good for Jonas.”
Sam seemed genuinely worried about his brother. Seton had nothing to say that would relieve either of them, so she shrugged. “Thank you for a lovely meal, but I—”
He put a hand over hers as she clutched her purse. “Don’t go just yet.”
“Sam.” The temptation was too strong. His warm fingers on hers sent waves of longing through her. She didn’t want to acknowledge any feelings she might have for him at this point. Those feelings she’d had before—the questions that had brought her back to Diablo—simply couldn’t exist any longer. Even if everything else could be waved away with a magic wand—such as his reluctance to have children and her strong wish for a baby—Seton couldn’t date Sam in good conscience, knowing that Sabrina was pregnant with Jonas’s child. “I really have to go.”
She stood, surprised when Sam pressed her hand to his lips.
“Thank you for spending this evening with me,” he said, his tone agreeable and a little wistful. “I really didn’t want to go back to the ranch to look at Jonas’s sour puss another night.” Sam laid money on the table and put his hand against the curve of her back to guide her from the restaurant.
As they walked out, he waved to people he knew, and Seton was uncomfortably aware of the interested glances following them, especially from women. She wished Sam didn’t have his palm against her back; it felt so possessive. Yet wasn’t this why she’d returned to Diablo? To see if there could be anything between them?
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
Sam and Seton headed that way, crisp March breezes making them hurry faster than she would have liked. The thought made her feel a little guilty. She liked spending time with Sam, more than she should.
Sam waited while she unlocked her car. “Good night,” he said. “Thanks again for having dinner with me.”
Seton hesitated. “Sam, I really am sorry about digging into your family history.”
He looked at her. “I think you were meant to do it,” he said. “Why else would I decide I needed Nancy Drew in my life?”
Seton gazed back at him. “You mean all that proposal stuff was a ruse to get me checking into your family past?”
“No,” Sam said, “the offer’s still on the table. What I meant was that there are a ton of other single ladies around. I had to pick the one with a nose for solving mysteries. Maybe it was my subconscious directing me.”
Seton let herself sink into the driver’s seat. “Glad you weren’t attracted to me or anything.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, “physical attraction usually has a short shelf life.”
“What would you have done if I’d said yes?” she asked, curious in spite of herself. “Given that you’re not attracted to me for anything except my curiosity.”
“Well,” Sam said, “first, I would have married you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And then?”
“We would have stayed married until you got sick of ranch life, or decided that the long hours working as a lawyer got on your nerves.” He shrugged. “But you didn’t say yes, so you’re off the hook, lady.”
“Good thing, that,” Seton said, thinking about Sabrina.
“I guess that means you don’t plan to change your mind.”
She thought he actually looked hopeful that she might. “No,” Seton said softly. “I won’t.”
He grinned at her. “Too bad. I would probably have shown you a good time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “After we were married? Why not before? You have such a strange way of going about things.”
“That’s what makes me a successful lawyer,” Sam said cheerfully. “I never do what the opposition expects.”
“Nice to know. Good night, Sam.” Seton closed the car door and pulled out of the parking lot, somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t tried to kiss her good-night. He hadn’t even looked as if he wanted to.
Maybe he really wasn’t attracted to her. Could his proposal about a marriage-in-name-only have been sincere?
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself. The Callahans were already adding another baby to the clan—they just didn’t know it.
Even if she’d wanted to accept Sam’s proposal, she couldn’t have done it while keeping Sabrina’s secret.
A small part of Seton regretted that she and Sam could never be anything at all to each other. That secret would always be between them.
“HOW’S THE MARRIAGE proposal going?” Jonas asked when Sam made it back to the ranch. Since it was just the two of them, they’d taken to living in the main house now, giving up the bunkhouse almost for good. Sam missed the days when Fiona and Burke had been living upstairs, taking care of the massive, seven-chimneyed house. He missed them in general. Now he just had Jonas to look at.
“Slowly,” Sam said, “but not as slowly as your proposal is going.”
His brother waved a hand expansively as he sat in front of the fireplace, where he was reading the New York Times. “I’m not getting married. I tried it, remember? Got to the altar and everything went south. I’m not doing that again. It’s not as easy as it looks, bro.”
Sam thought his older brother was being a wienie. Despite the years between them, he felt he was the mature one, and Jonas the lagging runt. “You and Nancy were a hundred years ago. She’s been married with kids for the last ten, and you haven’t mentioned that old flame in five. Are you planning to sit here for the rest of your life reading newspapers on your iPad?”
Jonas nodded, his expression serene. “Yep.”
Sam sighed. “I’m going to bed. I have to be in court tomorrow.”
Jonas glanced up, removing his gaze from his stupid screen long enough to regard Sam with something like interest. “Anything about the ranch?”
“Bode’s lawyers want another continuance. At the rate they’re going, surely Bode’ll be in his grave before this lawsuit is over. Either that or I will.”
“You know,” Jonas said, his tone reflective, “I would have thought once Rafe caught Bode’s daughter and dragged her to the altar, the old coot would have seen that his granddaughters are going to get part of this joint, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “He’s pretty much disowned Julie, though.”
“He’s a fool.” Jonas shrugged and went back to his virtual newspaper.
Sam started to say that Bode wasn’t the only fool in Diablo, then decided he didn’t care if Jonas turned into a pile of salt. If his brother wanted to sit in front of that fireplace like a doddering old man, that was his problem, not Sam’s.