THE TEXAS TATTLER

All the news that’s barely fit to print!

Fortune Love Triangle Revealed

Undercover sources report that alleged murderess Lily Cassidy recently made an earth-shattering cellblock confession to fawning fiancé Ryan Fortune: He isn’t the first Fortune tycoon to share her bed. While working as a housekeeper on the Double Crown Ranch over thirty years ago, Lily was seduced by treacherous playboy Cameron Fortune, Ryan’s now-deceased older brother. Bombshell number two: She bore a secret Fortune son, thirty-five-year-old lawyer Cole Cassidy!

Ryan, forever true to Lily and horribly lonely since his beloved’s incarceration, continues to barrage the jailhouse with chocolates, roses and…hey, is there a legal file in that fancy French pastry?

Rumor has it that Lily’s defense team, her son, Cole, and private eye Annie Jones, have met before and are intimately familiar with various “crimes of passion.” This duo has some mighty unusual investigative tactics—like forging marriage certificates with their own names. Someone please tell these two that they need to come out from under the covers in order to go undercover….

About the Author

PAMELA TOTH

USA TODAY bestselling author Pamela Toth was born in Wisconsin, but grew up in Seattle, where she attended the University of Washington and majored in art. Now living on the Puget Sound area’s east side, she has two daughters, Erika and Melody, and two Siamese cats.

Recently she took a lead from one of her own romances and married her high school sweetheart, Frank. They live in a town house within walking distance of a bookstore and an ice-cream shop, two of life’s necessities, with a fabulous view of Mount Rainier. When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband, reading, playing FreeCell on the computer, doing counted cross-stitch and researching new story ideas. She’s been an active member of Romance Writers of America since 1982.

Her books have won several awards and they claim a regular spot on the Waldenbooks bestselling romance list. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, WA 98006. For a personal reply, a stamped, self-addressed envelope is appreciated.

Wedlocked?!
Pamela Toth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Meet the Fortunes of Texas

Cole Cassidy: He would do anything to catch the person who’d framed his mother for murder—even team up with his former lover, investigator Annie Jones….

Annie Jones: Cole was the last person Annie ever wanted to see again, let alone work with! She’d been burned once by Cole and refused to fall in love with him again. But some things were beyond her control….

Maria Cassidy: Cole’s youngest sister’s zealous interest in babies has the family talking. Will Maria’s secrets be safe much longer?

Zane Fortune: The executive heartbreaker has just about every blue-blooded beauty in Texas at his feet. However, not one of those socialites has captured his attention quite as much as a certain down-on-her-luck single mom….

This book is dedicated to my fellow alumni of Blanchet High School in Seattle, class of ’65, with the hope that your lives have all been as happy and fulfilling as mine. The best is yet to come.

And to Frank Bell, class of ’64, who puts the romance in my writing and in my life.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

One

“You aren’t going to prison,” Cole Cassidy promised the woman seated across the table from him. Even though their relationship had recently become strained, Lily was still his mother. “I’ll do everything I can to clear you.”

Lily abandoned her surveillance of the restaurant’s entry long enough to glance at Cole. The pressure of the last few weeks had left shadows beneath her dark eyes, but she was still a beautiful woman.

“You believe that I didn’t murder Sophia Fortune, don’t you?” she asked, an uncharacteristic quaver in her husky voice. “I swear I’m telling the truth.”

Cole leaned forward and squeezed her hand. It was icy cold. “I know you’re innocent,” he replied. “You don’t have to convince me.”

“The prisons are full of innocent people.” Her fingers shifted restlessly as she waited for the arrival of her fiancé, Ryan Fortune. He was bringing with him the private investigator he’d hired to dig up enough evidence to clear Lily of the murder charge for which she was out on bail.

Cole wanted to reassure his mother, to tell her he knew she would never lie to him. Yet she had lied—repeatedly—by omission, and that knowledge stood between them like an elephant both were pretending they couldn’t see.

Before he could think of something to say about her honesty that wouldn’t reek of irony, Lily’s attention was diverted. Recognition hummed through the room as her fiancé, the head of the Fortune empire and owner of the Double Crown Ranch, stopped in the entryway. As soon as he spotted Lily, his weathered face relaxed into a smile. Then, as Cole got to his feet, Ryan leaned down and spoke to the woman at his side.

As the two of them came toward Cole’s table, identification and disbelief double-teamed him, driving the air from his chest like a one–two punch to the gut.

Lily glanced up. “Is something wrong?”

Her voice was nearly drowned out by the sudden roaring in Cole’s ears. It couldn’t be—and yet it was. The riot of brown curls, the heart-shaped face and those wide, kissable lips—the image was seared into his memory like the scar from a red-hot branding iron.

The woman with Ryan was Annie Jones, the same woman Cole had left behind six years before when he’d moved to Denver.

The moment Annie recognized the tall, dark-haired man waiting for Ryan, an icy hand squeezed her heart with painful ferocity. Pride was all that kept her from stopping dead in her tracks.

Ryan must have sensed her hesitation as he led her to the table. “Lily and her son make a handsome pair, don’t they?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he leaned over to give the woman with Cole Cassidy a quick kiss on her upturned mouth.

If the man who’d hired Annie had been anyone else in the Lone Star state, no matter how wealthy, powerful or well-connected, she would have ditched the case and walked away. Unfortunately, she owed Ryan Fortune far too much to even consider letting him down. Since quitting wasn’t an option, she straightened her spine, curved her mouth into a cool smile and did her best to mask the turmoil scrambling her insides like a butter churn.

“Hello, Cole,” she said before Ryan could begin the introductions. “How have you been?” For good measure, Annie extended her hand.

If her calm demeanor surprised him, Annie’s former lover gave no sign except a slight narrowing of his piercing blue eyes—eyes that had once burned with an intense yet shallow desire Annie had briefly mistaken for love.

It was a mistake she hadn’t made since.

After a pause so slight that she might have imagined it, Cole enfolded her hand in his. She felt his touch all the way to the heart she would have sworn had turned to stone after he’d walked out on her. Before she could even begin to absorb the heat and strength of his grip, he released her. His expression was somber, without even the hint of a smile, and he met her generic greeting with silence.

“You already know each other?” Ryan asked.

His tone made Annie curious, and she filed it away for future analysis. Right now she was too busy dealing with a situation she had both dreaded and fantasized about—meeting Cole again. “We haven’t seen each other for years,” she told Ryan with a bland smile before she shifted her attention to the woman seated at the table.

“You must be Lily. Ryan’s told me about you.” Although Cole had mentioned his mother to her frequently during their former association, the two women had never met. Annie had no idea Cole’s mother and Ryan’s fiancée were one and the same.

Silently, Annie congratulated herself on the steadiness of her own voice, and hoped the heat searing her cheeks didn’t glow like Rudolph’s nose. Determined that Cole glimpse not a hint of her inner agitation, she concentrated instead on the older woman studying her with a thoughtful expression.

Lily Cassidy had the dark hair and compelling looks that were a legacy of the Spanish and Apache heritage she shared with her son. No wonder Ryan Fortune had been willing to endure an expensive and very public divorce from the woman Lily now stood accused of murdering. Ryan’s intended was still as striking as her son was handsome.

Too bad the last six years had been so kind to Cole as well. Annie would have taken some small measure of satisfaction in seeing that his hairline had receded, his waist had expanded or the clean line of his jaw had begun to blur. Instead he’d grown more attractive since the day he had walked away from her without a backward glance. Had some other woman managed to do what Annie had not—capture his heart and his name?

Sometimes life just wasn’t fair, Annie thought, and then she recalled why she was here. Cole’s mother had been accused of murder. Her life wasn’t all fun and games. Neither, obviously, was Cole’s.

“Ryan speaks highly of you,” Lily said. “Please won’t you sit down?”

Deliberately Annie ignored the chair Cole pulled out, choosing instead the one on Lily’s other side. The strain of the last few weeks was evident in her expression, but there was warmth in her eyes, and barely visible laugh lines framing her mouth.

Annie was no Mary Poppins. She’d been a cop and she’d seen the worst in people. Appearances were often deceiving, yet she felt a burst of empathy toward Cole’s mother. Annie knew what it was like to be wrongly accused. Whether her empathy with Lily was misplaced remained to be seen.

“How well did you and Cole know each other?” Ryan asked, taking the fourth chair across the table.

A waiter handed Annie a menu, which she immediately opened. “Not well at all,” she said dismissively.

Lily looked at her son. Apparently she had a mother’s keen awareness when it came to undercurrents. “Cole?” she asked.

“We lost touch when I moved to Denver,” he said in a tone that didn’t invite more questions. He had taken refuge in his own menu and his expression was grim. Unfortunately for Annie, the slight frown did nothing to mar his attractiveness. Nor her own response to him—one that up until a few minutes before she would have sworn she’d managed to put far, far behind her. How disgustingly pathetic to feel such tingling awareness of the rat who had accepted her guilt when she’d so desperately needed him, of all people, to believe in her innocence.

Just like he wanted her to believe in his mother’s innocence now. The irony of the situation made Annie blink, and then she realized that all three of her companions were staring at her expectantly.

“Excuse me?” she asked, fresh heat bathing her cheeks.

Cole’s frown deepened. “I was just asking Ryan why he’d chosen you to investigate my mother’s case. You’re young and relatively inexperienced. There are plenty more seasoned P.I.’s in San Antonio.” How like an attorney to grab the offensive.

“And I was about to explain to Cole that age doesn’t necessarily indicate ability. Annie’s bright, sharp and aggressive. When it comes to clearing the woman I love, I want the very best available on our team.” Ryan reached across the table to clasp Lily’s outstretched hand. To Annie’s surprise, fresh tears sprang to the other woman’s dark eyes.

“Thank you, my love.” Her voice vibrated with emotion.

Pain sliced through Annie as she glanced away from the mutual trust and affection the brief exchange revealed. It was obvious that Ryan’s belief in Lily’s innocence was total. If only Cole could have been as sure of Annie’s years before.

For a moment, her gaze collided with his and she wondered if he could read her thoughts. A muscle ticked in his cheek, but he didn’t look away this time. It was Annie who finally raised her brows and managed to break the deadlock as the waiter approached. Her heart was racing. In the few moments it took the man to gather their orders, she was able to regain her poise and put the painful memories where they belonged.

Despite the lurid coverage of the tabloid press, the circumstances of Sophia Fortune’s murder left plenty of room for speculation. Smothering someone with a pillow was a very up-close and personal crime, not like shooting the victim from several yards away. Annie wondered if the woman seated across from her was capable of that kind of in-your-face violence. The case would be a fascinating one to investigate.

“What makes you think Ms. Jones is the best investigator available?” Cole asked Ryan.

Annie had no intention of losing this opportunity just because her presence made him uncomfortable. As his mother’s attorney, Cole would have to work with her on the investigation. If he wanted her fired, he was going to have to admit to Ryan, and his mother, why.

Before Annie could open her mouth, though, the waiter brought the iced teas they had all ordered. As he retreated, Ryan spoke directly to Cole. He must have sensed that the son would be a harder sell than the mother.

“Living in Denver, you may not be aware of the solid reputation Annie’s built for herself all through this part of Texas,” Ryan said. “I guess it must have been after your move that she left the police department, despite the protests of her superior officers, and opened her own agency.”

Surprise flickered across Cole’s face. Apparently he’d never bothered to find out the outcome of the charges filed against her within the department. This fresh evidence of his indifference to her fate hurt like hell.

“Since then she’s done some brilliant work on several difficult, high-profile cases.” Ryan turned his attention to Lily. “Honey, believe me, if anyone can give Cole the strongest ammunition to get you an acquittal, Annie can.”

Annie felt like squirming with embarrassment in the face of Ryan’s testimonial. Granted, she’d worked damn hard after her tattered reputation had been restored and she’d left the department. She’d still had a lot to prove—to her late father and to the people who had believed she’d disgraced both his memory and the badge he’d worn with pride. Case by difficult case, she’d earned her reputation and the hefty fees she now charged. Even so, Ryan’s wholesale endorsement made her uncomfortable. What if this time—when it mattered to him the most—she failed?

Lily took a sip of her iced tea and turned to look at Annie. “I suppose you know about the charges against me?”

Annie nodded. Anyone who hadn’t been lost in the wilderness knew Lily’s story. Since Ryan’s phone call, Annie had boned up on the case.

“Let me see if I’ve got it right,” she replied, deliberately pulling no punches. “The police think you killed Sophia because her refusal to give Ryan a divorce was preventing you from bagging one of the wealthiest men in the state.” She ignored Ryan’s gasp. “You had means, opportunity and motive, since you just happened to be staying at her hotel in Austin on the night in question. You told the police you hadn’t been in her suite, but they found your bracelet on the floor by her body. They say the two of you quarreled and you held a pillow over her face until she was dead.”

During Annie’s recital, Lily had paled, but she seemed to draw strength from Ryan. Her chin went up. “I didn’t do it. I could never take another person’s life.” Her gaze held Annie’s without wavering. “Do you believe me?”

Annie noticed that Cole had shifted closer to his mother as if to protect her. Where had all that loving support been when she’d needed it? “I don’t have to believe you to do my job,” she told Lily.

Angrily Cole slapped his hand on the table, making them jump. He had no intention of sitting quietly while this hotshot P.I. tried and convicted his mother of murder right here in the restaurant. Annie’s bald recital of both the facts and speculation surrounding the case had just handed him a concrete excuse to refuse to work with her on the investigation.

“I’ve heard enough,” he told Ryan, confident the older man would agree with him. “We’ll have to find someone else.”

To his surprise, his mother gripped his arm. “No, dear, I don’t think so.”

Cole knew that tone. Underneath the soft drawl lay pure steel. Still he argued. “You need someone who knows you’re innocent.”

She shook her head, a rueful smile curving her lips. “I have you and Ryan for that,” she said huskily. Then she looked right at Annie. “Miss Jones, I need a fighter on my side. I’d like you to take my case. If Ryan says you’re good, that’s enough for me.”

Cole’s automatic protest died in his throat. Under the circumstances, surely Annie would refuse.

Instead she smiled. Despite his annoyance, Cole felt his nerves leap in reaction. Working with her would be insane—just one of several reasons why she had no business on this case, but the one he could never verbalize. And what about the resentment she might still feel toward him over the past? What better revenge than standing by and watching his mother go to prison? Could the Annie he’d known have turned into the kind of person who would let something that evil happen—even contribute to it? Could he risk the possibility?

Before he could bring up his other objections, the waiter was back with their food. Grimly, Cole realized he might have better luck discussing the situation with Ryan and his mother later, away from Annie’s troubling presence.

As Ryan turned the conversation away from the case, Cole concentrated on his lobster salad and tried to resist sneaking peeks at the woman seated across from him, the thick brown hair he remembered so well pulled into a high ponytail that made her look younger than her twenty-nine years. He didn’t know which of the emotions churning through him was more disturbing—his guilt over the way he’d handled their breakup, the renewed attraction to her that threatened his focus now, or the certainty that being thrown together on this case would be a disaster not only for him but also for his mother, whose very life was on the line.

“I can take a cab,” Annie said, wanting nothing more than to get away from Cole long enough to catch her breath and beat her overactive hormones back into submission. Not that she was the least bit interested in him—she’d learned her lesson there—but a woman could admire a man on a strictly physical level as long as it didn’t interfere with the work at hand.

“Nonsense,” Ryan replied with the breezy confidence of the super-rich. “The ranch is in the opposite direction from your office, and Lily needs to rest. But Cole can drop you off.” His arm was curved protectively around Lily’s shoulders. “It will afford the two of you a chance to map out your strategy.”

Even Annie couldn’t argue with that. It was time to put aside her personal feelings toward her new client’s son and get busy. They had barely a month until the trial, and there was a lot to be done.

She glanced at Cole, who was watching her with an unreadable expression on his sharply chiseled face. Did he never relax these days? She remembered that he had a killer smile. The unfortunate memory jarred her back to reality.

“Good idea,” she agreed with a hint of challenge in her voice. “If you have time to get started right away, so do I.”

The flicker of surprise in Cole’s eyes was more than enough reward for her capitulation. “My mother’s out on bail,” he drawled. “I don’t have a lot else on my calendar right now.”

Moments later, the two couples had split up, the older pair heading for the car Ryan’s driver had brought around to the front door of the restaurant. Meanwhile, Cole led the way to the lot behind the building where his rental was parked. If his back were any straighter, Annie might have suspected his tailor had sewed a metal rod in his jacket.

“So how have you been?” she asked, striving for a light tone, after he’d joined her in the confines of his white Lexus. The interior reeked of leather and wealth. Her ancient Volkswagen smelled like pine cleaner, courtesy of a dangling piece of cardboard shaped like an evergreen tree.

She refused to analyze why it was important that he see how easily she was handling his sudden reappearance in her life. She just knew she wanted to get the preliminaries out of the way so they could concentrate on the case.

Cole backed the car out of its parking spot and headed toward the street. “I’ve been fine,” he said as he eased into a break in traffic. “I don’t know if you’d heard that I moved to Denver after—”

“I heard,” she blurted, and then could have bitten off her tongue for her unguarded response. He’d probably think she’d tracked him like a spurned lover who didn’t know when to let go. She couldn’t remember who had told her, but she damn well couldn’t explain that she hadn’t sought out the information, not without looking ridiculous. This was going to be more difficult than she’d realized.

The light turned red, and Cole took the opportunity to really look at her. Nearly hidden by her air of self-confidence and the solid reputation Ryan had described lurked a freshness that was downright amazing. Life had handed her lemons and from them she’d made a blue-ribbon pie. When he recalled how thoroughly he’d misjudged her, he wanted to turn back the clock and rewrite history.

“Look,” he said instead as the light changed and the cars in front of him began to move, “we probably need to clear the air. Can we wait to discuss our history together until we get to your office before I rear-end someone?”

He sensed her sudden tension. Maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she would like him to think, or maybe it was just resentment that had her hands tightening on her patchwork leather bag. Again he wondered how far she might go to avenge herself. Would she punish an innocent woman? Damage her own reputation as an investigator? He had to admit the possibility was pretty far-fetched—and damn egotistical of him.

“There’s really nothing to discuss,” she said in a voice that had plunged several degrees in temperature despite the heat of the October day. “At least nothing of a personal nature. We have a lot of ground to cover for your mother’s case. I suggest we focus on the present and forget ancient history.”

“If that’s the way you want it,” Cole muttered, swerving and hitting his horn when a car in the next lane cut them off. The other driver didn’t appear to notice.

For the next few moments, Cole’s attention was divided between the directions she gave him and speculation about what she must really be feeling. The former was straightforward enough; her expression yielded no clues to the latter. Finally they turned into a small strip mall and he stopped the car beside a faded blue bug with a hot-pink windsock attached to its antenna.

In front of them was a rather plain storefront with simple black lettering on the glass door. Annie Jones, Private Investigator, it read, followed by a local phone number. Her office was flanked by a dry cleaner on one side and a hobby shop on the other. Its grimy window was filled with a stack of faded cardboard boxes, the type plastic model kits come in, and dead flies. Neither business bordering hers looked especially prosperous.

Cole was trying to think of a comment—something neutral—when Annie got out of the car without a word and unlocked the front door of her office.

“Coming?” she demanded when he made no move to follow her.

Flushing, he grabbed his briefcase from behind the seat, locked the rental carefully and went inside. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but not the comfortable clutter that greeted him. With painful clarity, he pictured the tiny, cheerful apartment she’d had before—shabby, eclectic and welcoming. In some ways, Annie hadn’t changed.

“Have a seat,” she told him as she grabbed a stack of manila folders from a chair facing a scarred metal desk, and dumped them on top of a file cabinet. “I’ll just be a minute.” Sitting down behind the desk, she picked up the phone.

While she checked her voice mail, Cole cleared a spot in front of him for his briefcase and took the opportunity to look around. Modern computer equipment shared space with battered file cabinets and crammed bookcases. On the one bare wall were several framed citations. Cole figured he’d better wait to examine them more closely. On another wall was a calendar still turned to the month before. On the counter were two dirty coffee cups and an apothecary jar filled with lemon drops. Annie might be as organized as a surgical team, but neatness wasn’t any more of a priority now than it had ever been.

Cole wondered if he could work in the midst of such clutter. The top of his own desk in Denver was always bare except for his current project. His files and baskets were color-coordinated, his books shelved according to subject and cataloged on his computer.

Now he looked at the self-stick notes dotting the side of the computer monitor and sighed.

The closing of a drawer drew his attention back to the woman seated across from him. She’d taken out a yellow legal pad and uncapped a cheap pen.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” she said, her gaze boring into him as though she were about to interview a suspect. “Tell me everything you know about the case.”

For the first time in a long while, Annie could find no peace, no relaxation in the condominium she’d taken such pleasure in decorating the year before. Even her cat, rescued from a shelter to become Annie’s number one fan, failed to distract her from her thoughts tonight. It had been a long afternoon, going over the facts of Lily Cassidy’s case with Cole and planning her strategy to poke holes in the state’s theory of how and why the crime had been committed. All they needed for an acquittal was reasonable doubt.

“Not now, Sluggo,” Annie murmured distractedly when the cat jumped into her lap and began butting his wide head against her hand. Gently she deposited him back on the carpeted floor, barely aware of his sharp meow of protest. Devoted he might be, but the big orange tabby was also unused to being ignored. Annie knew she’d have to placate him later for the slight she’d dealt his pride.

No matter. There were too many thoughts chasing each other around in her head for her to be able to focus on her cat, the Celine Dion CD she’d put on her stereo, or the glass of Merlot she’d poured herself when she’d first gotten home.

It was obvious that Cole didn’t want her on the case, and just as obvious that both his mother and Ryan did. For the last reason, and because Annie knew what it was like to be wrongly accused, she’d ignored Cole’s lack of enthusiasm toward her over lunch and accepted the assignment. She hoped that neither she nor Lily Cassidy would live to regret it.

With a sigh, Annie opened the denim tote she used in lieu of a briefcase and removed the notes she’d made that afternoon. Once they’d gotten started, she and Cole had covered a lot of ground. His memory for detail was phenomenal. They’d worked well together, their thought processes operating in a similar fashion that eliminated lengthy explanations between them. Indeed, they’d each picked up on what the other had been trying to communicate with a speed that reminded Annie painfully of the way they’d meshed six years ago. Sometimes back then words hadn’t been necessary at all, just touch and taste—

Annie leaped to her feet, scattering papers and scaring the cat, who ran behind the couch. This was getting her nowhere! Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through her mouth, she gathered up her notes and sat back down. Kicking off her shoe, she tucked her foot beneath her, sipped her wine and stared at her own barely legible handwriting.

She would have liked to ask Cole about his life in Denver. She was curious as heck about what he’d been doing for the last six years, but she wouldn’t admit it—not to him. No, the last thing she wanted to hear was how, up in Colorado, he’d found the perfect woman, or, even worse, a whole string of perfect women to keep him company.

He wasn’t wearing a ring, but she knew that didn’t mean anything. Would Ryan have mentioned whether Cole was married? No, there was no reason for that—just as there was no room for personal feelings here. Not anger, not bitterness and certainly not regret. No matter how she felt about Cole, she knew what it was like to face the endless stares and questions from people who’d already decided you were guilty, all the while wondering if your life would ever be the same.

It made not the slightest difference that the woman facing a similar ordeal was the mother of the man who’d walked out when Annie had needed him desperately, ripping out her heart as he went. How satisfying to be instrumental in getting Lily Cassidy off, and in knowing that from now on her son would owe Annie for something he could never hope to repay. When he thought of her, the feelings in his heart would be obligation and gratitude, however reluctantly given, and not the somewhat distant indifference he’d shown her today.

Two

“Where have you been?” Cole asked Annie as soon as the temp he’d hired had shown her into his borrowed office and departed, closing the door behind her. “I expected to hear from you before this.” He picked up the gold pen his father had given him upon graduation from law school and rolled it between his fingers.

Not his biological father, Cole reminded himself with a wry twist of his lips, just the man who’d raised him like a son. The man he’d believed to be his real father until just a few weeks ago.

“It’s only been two days,” Annie replied, dropping her purse and a denim bag on the floor next to an empty leather chair. “I had things to do.” Gone was the trim gray power suit she’d worn with a white blouse and button earrings at lunch the other day. Only her hair was the same, piled into a curly mass on top of her head.

Silver hoops dangled from her ears and sparkled when she turned her head. A blue sweater hugged her breasts and barely covered her midriff. Snug jeans, the fabric bleached nearly white and fraying around the pockets, and thick-soled sandals completed her outfit.

She followed the direction of Cole’s gaze. “My field uniform,” she said with a saucy little shimmy of her hips.

Cole nearly stepped on his tongue. Next to her, he felt overdressed and stodgy. Irritated, he straightened the knot of his tie. “Now that you’re here,” he said, tapping the folder in front of him, “I want to go over this paperwork with you.”

Instead of plopping obediently into a chair, Annie hooked her thumbs into her pockets and glanced around the small room. “Nice digs,” she murmured, turning back to face him. Lightly, she ran her finger over a jade panther that rested on the corner of his desk. That and a brass lamp with a Tiffany-style glass shade were Cole’s. He’d brought them from Denver. The only other items on the desk were the file he’d been studying, a legal pad and a phone with an intercom. Clutter was distracting. He thought of Annie’s office and shuddered.

“My soon-to-be brother-in-law loaned me the office space,” Cole said. “Parker’s engaged to my sister Hannah, and he’s been handling Dad’s divorce.”

Before Cole had moved in here, the room had been used for storage. Bookcases full of legal tomes covered two walls and a row of mismatched file cabinets lined a third. Cartons of printer paper were stacked in one corner. At least there was a small window behind him with a view of the sky and the busy street below.

“How long are you staying in Texas?” Annie asked.

“Until the trial’s over.” He lined the pen up next to the pad of paper. Behind him, the air conditioner hummed quietly. “Let’s get to work.” In the last two days, he’d been torn between worry over his mother and endless speculation about Annie. How much had she changed? Was she as confident as she appeared? Was she still passionate about her work? Had she ever given him a thought in the last six years? Did she hate him? Thanks to his future step-father, Cole might have to work with Annie, but he’d be damned if he’d let her know he still found her attractive.

Finally she sat down, crossed one leg over the other and fished a manila folder from her bag. “Did you know that Ryan’s wife was having an affair before she died?”

Interest surged through Cole. He knew his mother hadn’t murdered Sophia, which meant that someone else had—someone angry enough to press a pillow to her face until she stopped breathing. A spurned lover? An obsessed reject? From what Ryan had already told Cole, his estranged wife had certainly been capable of a secret involvement with someone else while she did her best to squeeze a bigger settlement from her husband.

“I heard rumors,” Cole admitted. “Have you found out who the lucky man was?”

To his disappointment, Annie shook her head. “Not yet, but I will.”

“What have you been doing all this time?” he demanded, frustrated.

She gave him a level stare. “Working. How about you? Established a foolproof defense yet?”

Her sarcastic tone made him realize that the two of them sniping at each other wasn’t going to help his mother’s case. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m worried.” He glanced at the thick file he’d been reading before she came in. “I’ve been going over the police report from the crime scene,” he added. “The only physical evidence that ties Mom to the scene was the ruby bracelet they found next to the body. It was a gift from Ryan. Someone else had to have deliberately planted it in Sophia’s hotel room. Mom was never there.”

“Are you sure of that?” Annie asked.

Cole fought down his protective urges. “She says she wasn’t. That’s good enough for me.”

“But not necessarily good enough to convince a jury,” Annie pointed out. “Why would anyone want to frame her?”

“To divert attention, I suppose,” he replied. “Because Mom was at the hotel that night and she knew Sophia. Anyone could have seen her there.”

Annie twirled a lock of her hair, and he noticed that she wore a ring shaped like a butterfly. Her nails were short, neat and free of polish. “What about the bracelet?” she asked. “Did the police talk to anyone who thought they remembered her wearing it that night?”

Cole thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Good point.”

Annie made a note. “I’ll check it out. Why was Lily at the hotel that night?”

He sat back and steepled his hands, the leather of his chair creaking in protest like an old saddle. “She attended a charity banquet at the hotel and, unfortunately for her, she decided to stay the night.”

Annie pursed her lips thoughtfully. “What’s her alibi for the time when Sophia was killed?” she asked.

“She was in her own room,” Cole admitted with a sigh. “Alone.”

“No room service? No phone calls?” Annie probed with a wave of her hand.

He shook his head regretfully. “She was resting.”

Annie appeared to be studying the scenic print behind his head. He tried to stay focused on the discussion and not notice how full her lips were, puckered as if for a kiss. Did she have a boyfriend?

“I think our best bet would be to find out who Sophia was involved with,” she said as he tried hard to concentrate. “I’m not usually a fan of putting the victim on trial, but it wouldn’t hurt to alter a jury’s image of her as the wronged wife.”

Cole couldn’t fault Annie’s reasoning. From the beginning, publicity surrounding the case had played up its sensational aspects. Anything connected to the wealthy Fortune family was big news in Texas. “Good idea. Where do we start?”

Annie leaned back and studied him pointedly. The movement thrust out her breasts. Memories had his fingers curling in reaction behind the desk. “We?” she echoed.

“She’s my mother,” he replied a little more forcefully than necessary. “I’m not just some attorney trying to better his win–loss record.”

“Precisely. You’re biased.”

“And you’re not?” he countered.

“I haven’t formed an opinion of her guilt or innocence yet, if that’s what you mean,” she said loftily.

Cole ignored the quick surge of temper. “Why did you take this case?” he asked instead.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Ryan Fortune has been very supportive,” she said finally. “I owe him.”

Cole narrowed his eyes. “Is that the only reason?”

She shifted in her chair and uncrossed her legs. “What are you implying?”

“You can’t ignore the fact that you and I have a history,” Cole said with great reluctance. He hadn’t meant to bring it up, but maybe it would be better to clear the air now, before they got deeper into the investigation.

Annie was surprised he would mention their unfortunate past. “Ancient history.” She bristled at the idea that he might think she’d let anything personal influence the way she handled a case. “It certainly has no bearing on this investigation.” She didn’t like the way he was studying her, but she refused to allow him to put her on the defensive. Instead she leaned down to stuff the folder back into her bag, then got to her feet.

“I’ll keep you posted.” Before she could reach the door, Cole had circled his desk and blocked her path. She could smell his cologne. Thank heaven he’d changed brands and the new scent, something clean and sharp, wasn’t another painful reminder of the past they’d shared.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, easing his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks and propping his shoulder against the door. “Can we start over?” He was so close she could see the faint stubble of his beard, could feel his breath on her cheek.

“No problem.” Annie refused to retreat. Instead she looked into his eyes, at the twin reflections of herself in the blackness of his pupils, as awareness—stronger than a sigh but fainter than a whisper—shimmered between them.

Cole was the first to step away, leaving her to wonder if he felt it too. He gave his silk tie, the exact same blue as his irises, an unnecessary tug, but his expression remained unchanged.

Annie realized she’d die if he suspected she still found him attractive. She felt like a dog that had been kicked and kept crawling back to its master no matter how many times it was hurt.

“Let’s start by pooling our information,” Cole suggested briskly, sliding the folder around so it was facing the chair she’d just vacated. “Here’s the police report.”

Curious, Annie sat back down and did her best to concentrate on the form in front of her. “How odd,” she murmured when she’d scanned the report of the crime scene.

Cole perched on the corner of the desk. “What do you mean?”

“As usual, there was a lot of physical evidence to sift through—fingerprints, hair, fibers.” She glanced over the report. “I know this forensics team,” she said, tapping the paper for emphasis. “If there had been anything else in that hotel room to link your mother to the victim, no matter how minuscule, they should have found it.” She looked again. “They have several unidentified fingerprints, but none of Lily’s.” Perhaps Lily was telling the truth.

“Of course they don’t have her prints. She wasn’t there,” Cole insisted. “Maybe something will match up to the real killer.”

Annie ignored his comment. “What else do you have?” she asked, pulling a bag of lemon drops from her bag and holding them out. Did he remember how he used to buy them for her?

Declining her offer, he sat back down and shuffled through more papers. “Witness statements. A copy of the hotel registry. The autopsy report.” He frowned. “The police believe the only two acquaintances of Sophia’s who were at the hotel the night of the murder were Lily and the ranch employee who drove her there, Roy Dirkson.”

“What do we know about Dirkson?” Annie asked eagerly.

Cole kept reading. “He’s in the clear. He was seen having a beer in the bar after he dropped Mom at the hotel, and he swears he left right after that. A couple of witnesses corroborated his statement. I suppose he could have circled around and come back to the hotel later, but, judging by how soon he got to the ranch, he’s probably telling the truth.”

“His arrival time is documented too?” Annie asked.

“By Ryan himself. Dirkson reported to him when he arrived.”

Sucking on the lemon drop, she made a note on the pad she’d pulled out. “I’ll talk to Dirkson again before we eliminate him,” she decided.

Cole’s brows lifted. “It can’t hurt, but what reason could he possibly have had to kill her?” he asked skeptically.

“From what I’ve learned so far about dear Sophia,” Annie felt compelled to explain, “her taste in men was eclectic. Dirkson’s worth a look.” She’d be darned if she was going to justify every step she took to Cole.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Only that Sophia’s hotel room showed definite signs of a struggle, and Mom had no scratches or bruising on her arms or face when they questioned her,” he replied.

Annie made another note and drew a star next to it. “How do the police explain that? Sophia must have fought back.”

He shrugged. “They don’t even try. I’ll have Tiffany make copies of all this for you.” He pressed a button on his intercom.

When his secretary opened the door and he rose to hand her the file, Annie took the opportunity to study him from beneath her lashes. His suit was impeccably tailored, his black shoes as shiny as tinted windows. He had always liked to dress well.

If she didn’t put the past where it belonged, this case was only going to be more difficult. As it was, Lily had already been tried and found guilty in the press, which had painted her as a gold digger, a home-wrecker and worse. The obvious holes in the case wouldn’t matter to those people who’d already convicted her in their minds—people from whom a pool of jurors would be selected.

Annie realized that Cole had resumed his seat and was watching her. “How do you like Denver?” she asked to fill the silence while they waited for his secretary to come back with the copies.

“It’s a nice city,” he said noncommittally. “The winters took some getting used to, but it’s home for me now. I’ve made friends. I’ve settled in.”

No mention of a wife or a family. All Annie could think to do was nod. The gap of six years yawned between them like a chasm with no bridge.

“What about you?” he asked unexpectedly. “I was surprised to hear you left the force. Being a cop meant so much to you.”

Not as much as you did, she thought sadly. Even though she knew he was only making small talk, she considered her reply carefully. “It meant a great deal to my father that I followed in his footsteps,” she said after a moment. “When I was cleared, I realized that being a cop had been his dream, but it was no longer mine.” There was no way to explain how she’d felt, abandoned by Cole, ostracized by her fellow officers and gagged by the code of silence, the blue wall, from doing any more than declaring her own innocence. If her partner hadn’t finally deigned to clear her of being on the take, Annie’s career and her reputation would have been destroyed.

Because of her unwillingness to implicate her partner and Cole’s subsequent lack of faith in her, he had assumed she was guilty. Perhaps it had been unrealistic of her to expect him to believe in her innocence without question, but, if the tables had been turned, she knew she would never have doubted him.

“I was sorry to hear about your father,” he said quietly, bringing her back to the present. “I thought about writing later, but it didn’t seem like a good idea.”

Annie didn’t respond. What more was there to say? Instead she changed the subject. “I’ll want to talk to your mother.”

Instantly, his expression grew wary. “Why? She’s already discussed this ad nauseam with the police, the prosecutor and with me. Is it necessary for you to drag her through it all again?”

“I like to do my own interviews.” Annie struggled for patience. Was he going to oppose her every step of the way? What was he afraid of? “I may find something that’s been overlooked.”

“I can answer any questions you have,” he insisted as his secretary slipped back in and handed him two sets of papers, one of which he gave Annie.

She knew from past experience that he could be bulldog stubborn when he wanted to be. She waited until the door closed again. “When did your mother notice the bracelet was missing?” she asked.

It was his turn to hesitate. Frowning, he referred to the file in front of him. “After a horseback ride at the ranch. It’s all in here. She’d been having some trouble with the clasp. When she realized she’d lost the bracelet, she assumed it fell off somewhere out on the range, that it was gone forever.”

“And did Ryan corroborate her story?” Annie persisted.

His frown deepened. “Ryan wasn’t aware it was missing,” he finally admitted.

“And why not?” It was important Annie put the pieces together, and the bracelet was the most damning piece of evidence the other side had.

Cole sat back in his chair and glared as though she were the enemy. “I don’t know why not.”

She got to her feet. “That’s precisely why I need to talk to your mother. If someone did frame her, they had to have that bracelet with them at the time of the murder. How many people knew she was going to be at the hotel for the banquet?”

“I have no idea. Her room was comped and any number of hotel employees could have known.” He pulled a calendar out of his drawer and flipped through it. “Let me call and set up a time for us to see her.”

“No. Give me her number. I’ll call her and I’ll go talk to her.” Annie refused to let him run her investigation. When he raked a hand through his black hair and she saw the worry in his eyes, she relented slightly. “I know what I’m doing,” she said. “Let me do my job.”

Cole appeared about to argue when his intercom buzzed. Muttering a soft curse, he picked up his phone. After a moment, he held it out to Annie. “It’s Mom,” he said, resignation in his voice. “She wants to see you.”

“So you’re the same Annie Jones my son used to know before he moved to Denver,” Lily said just as Annie was about to take a sip from the tall, sweating glass of iced tea brought by the housekeeper Lily had introduced as Rosita.

The two women were sitting in the shade of the inner courtyard at Ryan’s sprawling ranch house, surrounded by well-tended pots of flowering vines and exotic grasses. Nearby a fountain gurgled softly. The day was warm, but Lily’s comment sent a sudden chill through Annie, and she set her glass down abruptly.

“That’s right,” she replied, grateful her voice was just as steady as Lily’s gaze. “Cole and I were lovers six years ago. It ended badly.” Perhaps her candor would head off any more questions.

The older woman seemed to relax, as if she’d been expecting evasion, even lies, and was relieved to hear the truth.

“You don’t have to tell me anything more,” she said as she selected a cookie from the silver tray. Her engagement ring, studded with precious stones, flashed a rainbow of colors in the sunlight. “I haven’t said anything about it to my son, but I thought I remembered your name.”

“You may have noticed some awkwardness between us,” Annie replied without thinking. “I’m sure Cole resents my presence as well as my involvement in this case.” Now why had she added that? His mother would naturally take his side if she knew the details Annie had no intention of revealing. Heat climbed up her cheeks, heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air around them.

To her surprise, except for a flicker of satisfaction, Lily’s expression remained pleasantly friendly as she bit into a delicate lemon wafer. Annie was relieved the older woman wasn’t going to grill her. Taking the opportunity to change the subject, she opened the folder she’d brought with her and uncapped her pen. One by one, she dealt with the list of questions she’d jotted down earlier.

“You weren’t wearing the ruby bracelet at the hotel?”

“No,” Lily replied without hesitating. “I’d lost it before then.”

“But you didn’t tell Ryan. Why was that?”

“Because it was valuable, and I knew he’d want to replace it right away,” Lily explained. “That’s the way he is. I thought someone who knew it was mine might find it.” Her smile wobbled around the edges. “I guess I was right.”

Her explanation carried the ring of truth; Annie figured a jury might buy it. “How many people knew you were going to be at the Austin Arms that night, besides the staff?”

Lily thought for a moment. “I’m sure my name was mentioned in the advance publicity about the banquet,” she recalled. “Anyone reading the newspaper could have known.”

“Did you see anyone that night who might have wanted to cause Sophia harm?” Annie hoped that Lily might remember something, anything, that would give her a new lead.

Lily’s smile was wry. “I’m sure the woman had a few enemies, but I don’t recall anyone in particular other than the names I already gave the police. Do you have a copy?”

Annie nodded. She had a list of everyone registered at the hotel that night, as well as the other names the police had come up with.

“I told them a while ago Sophia had tried to bribe me to stop seeing Ryan,” Lily said. “When that didn’t work, she threatened me. I don’t suppose telling them was the smartest thing to do.”

“Being honest is never a mistake,” Annie told her. “Especially if you’re innocent.”

“You haven’t made up your mind about that yet, have you?” Lily asked, smiling.

Annie surprised herself by smiling back. “I’m working on it.” She was beginning to like Cole’s mother. Despite her own words, she was starting to question Lily’s guilt.

She appeared physically fit enough to have committed the crime, but Annie doubted Lily had the strength to overcome the other woman while remaining totally unscathed herself. Except for one unexplained bruise on her upper arm, Lily hadn’t had any scratches or other injuries indicative of the kind of fight suggested by the condition of the suite.

Thanking Lily for her time, Annie closed the notebook. For now, her questions had been answered to her satisfaction. Lily had heard the rumors about Sophia’s affairs, but she had no idea with whom the other woman had been involved.

As Annie took a healthy swallow of her iced tea, Lily suddenly snapped her fingers. “I just remembered something else,” she blurted. “I don’t know how I could have forgotten, but the way Sophia acted was just so hurtful to Ryan that I must have tried to put everything about her out of my mind.” Her dark eyes sparkled with excitement.

“What is it?” Annie asked hopefully.

“This is third-hand gossip, at least,” Lily said with a nervous laugh, “but you could check with Ryan for more details. He heard it from his niece, Eden.”

“Heard what?” Annie prompted.

“Eden said that Sophia did have an argument with someone at the Austin Arms, where she was killed.”

“The night of the murder?” Annie exclaimed, gaping. “And Eden witnessed it?”

“Wouldn’t that have been convenient?” Lily asked. “No, it was a while ago, and Eden didn’t actually see it. Her husband—well, they weren’t married at the time—he was the one who was there. When the argument turned nasty, he became concerned for Sophia’s safety, so he stepped in. From what he said, she didn’t appreciate his interference. She turned on him like a shrew, demanding that he mind his own business. The whole scene must have been very unpleasant.”

Impatiently Annie waited for Lily to continue. Instead Lily plucked the fresh mint from her glass and sniffed it with obvious appreciation.

“Who was the man?” Annie demanded.

“Eden’s husband?” Lily asked, blinking.

Annie struggled for patience. “No, the man with Sophia.”

“Oh, I thought I told you.” Lily dropped the mint back into her glass. “It was Clint Lockhart. Ryan’s first wife, Janine, was Clint’s sister.”

“Do you think he and Sophia were involved?” Annie asked. “Is he attractive?”

Lily shivered delicately. “I certainly don’t think so, but there’s no accounting for some people’s taste. I guess you could say he was handsome in a very obvious way, though. I didn’t know him well, but he had an arrogance about him that made me uncomfortable. As though he expected women to drop at his feet.”

In Annie’s book, the man sounded like a possible suspect. “I know the type.” She made a note to call Eden. “He doesn’t work here anymore. Do you know why he left?”

Lily shrugged. “I don’t think Ryan ever mentioned it.”

“I wonder if the police questioned him,” Annie muttered as she leafed through the file Cole had given her.

The housekeeper came out and asked if either of them wanted more iced tea. Annie declined absently.

“Thank you, Rosita,” Lily replied. “The cookies were wonderful.”

The older woman was grinning widely as she left. “She’s worked here since she was fourteen,” Lily remarked when Rosita was out of earshot. “And she claims to be psychic. Isn’t that remarkable?”

“Uh-huh.” Having found the appropriate statement, Annie read it in silence. Her shoulders slumped with disappointment. “Unfortunately, Clint Lockhart has what appears to be an airtight alibi,” she told Lily. It didn’t sound as though he could have killed Sophia, but he certainly had been involved with her in some way. He might know more than he’d told the police. Perhaps it would be worth Annie’s time to check him out, after all.

“Do you think Ryan would have a snapshot of Lockhart I could borrow?” she asked.

Lily frowned. “Sure. There are a lot of family photos in the den. I’ll get one on the way out. But why do you want a picture of Clint?”

“Call it a hunch.” Shoving the papers back into her bag, she gave Lily a reassuring smile. “You’ve been a big help,” she said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“I appreciate anything you can do for my case,” Lily replied, rising. “We’re lucky to have you.” Despite the shadow of worry in her eyes, her smile was warm. “I’ll get you that photo and then I’ll walk you to your car.”

When they got to Annie’s Volkswagen, she tucked the picture in her bag and promised to be in touch.

“Feel free to ask me anything,” Lily insisted. “I think you and my son will make a great team. Are you seeing him again soon?”

“We’re only working together on this one case,” Annie pointed out quickly. “I’m not certain just when I’ll be talking to him next, but rest assured that I’ll keep him informed of any developments.”

“Of course,” Lily murmured.

“Cole told me he’d be going back to Denver as soon as the trial is over,” Annie felt compelled to add, hoping she wasn’t dashing the other woman’s expectations that he would stick around.

“Texas has always been his real home,” Lily insisted. “Maybe he’ll change his mind about leaving.”

Where Cole lived meant nothing to Annie, and she nearly said as much. Then she felt a pang of pity for the woman facing her with such a brave front. If she wanted to pretend her son might stay in Texas, who was Annie to disillusion her? “Wouldn’t that be nice,” she said.

“I’m glad you think so.” Lily’s tone was bland, her expression innocent. Surely, in the midst of everything else she was going through, she wouldn’t be contemplating anything as ridiculous as a little matchmaking on the side, would she?

There was no way Annie could ask without looking like a complete fool. Frustrated, she bid Lily goodbye and climbed into her car. The interior was like an oven, the vinyl seat burning through the thin cotton of her slacks. At least the sudden discomfort was enough to distract her from the awkward and potentially humiliating idea of Cole’s mother playing Cupid.

Considering the circumstances, that would have been a real recipe for disaster.

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