Secret Dad. Raye Morgan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ what he’d worked his tail off to provide for her. And now it had all seemed worthwhile.

      He’d hung back after the ceremony, watching her being introduced to the families and friends of other girls. He didn’t want to embarrass her. There was no way anyone would ever confuse him with a blue blood, a fact that didn’t usually bother him. His broad shoulders hadn’t been earned by hours on the tennis court, and his tan was a product of the Sahara Desert, not the country club golf course. His hair was a little too long and his clothes looked a little too rumpled. Though he traveled a lot, his style was too plebeian for the jet-setters, and he had no interest in that sort of thing. But he didn’t want to cramp his sister’s style. It made him happy to see her succeed, to see her fit in.

      Suddenly, she saw him and her face changed. With a shriek, she ran to meet him, throwing her arms around his neck, not caring who saw her embrace her rough brother. His heart had filled with love for her, but as he looked back to where she’d run from, he saw the others watching. Charlyne—as she’d been called then—was pointing at Gail and laughing, turning to say something to one of the others, and Denver reddened and pushed Gail away, sure the beautiful but obviously spoiled young woman was making fun of Gail’s brother.

      “I just came to see you graduate,” he’d told her gruffly, purposely turning away from Charlyne. “I’ve got to get going.”

      His sister had seemed to regret that, her huge eyes filling with sorrow. “Oh, but, Denver, we’re having a dinner at the Chez Sateau. You must come.”

      His grin was slightly crooked. She even knew how to talk like the others. He shook his head.

      “Can’t. Got an assignment and I’m due at the airport. I’ll see you later in the week, at home. You go on back to your friends.”

      He’d looked at Charlyne as Gail walked away. She was looking right back at him, but now she wasn’t laughing. Their gazes met and held for a moment. Denver had hoped she couldn’t see how much he resented her. He pulled his gaze away, turned on his heel, and left for the parking lot.

      Now he looked at the woman who had once called herself Charlyne. Her body was fuller, softer-looking, and her angular face had filled in with lovely curves. Where he’d once seen snobbery there was nothing but warmth. It hardly seemed possible that this Charlie was the same woman. He wished he knew what had brought on such a change in the weather.

      But he frowned as he savored his last bite of meat. Years of undercover work had developed a strong streak of cynicism in him. People didn’t change that much. Maybe she’d just learned to hide what she really was. Maybe that was all there was to it.

      He let the current scene come back into his senses again. Charlie was talking seriously to her son, telling him that no, he was not going to get a rifle until he was much, much older.

      “Billy has one.”

      “Billy can have a hundred. That is not going to make a difference to us. You’re too young. And guns are disgusting anyway.”

      The boy looked at Denver as if he were waiting for him to jump in here, but Denver didn’t have an opinion one way or the other, and Robbie looked away again, disappointed. Denver felt his disappointment and shrugged. There was nothing he could do here. He’d had a rifle by the time he was six himself, but his family had lived in the country. Things were different in those days. He couldn’t imagine giving this infant child a rifle to carry around with him. Charlie was right. The kid didn’t need it.

      He had to laugh at the irony, though. Here he was, a man who lived a life where a gun was an absolute necessity, and he didn’t want to see the boy use one. Maybe he was losing his edge. Maybe it was time to start thinking about a life after the dangerous one he’d been leading all these years. “You can’t do this forever,” a friend had said to him only a few days ago. “Go out and find yourself a woman and have a family.” He’d laughed at the time. The thought had been ludicrous. But somehow it didn’t seem quite so funny right now.

      Looking across the table, he found the boy staring at him as though he were a specimen that might need dissecting. Before he could look away again, the child spoke to him for the first time.

      “Hey, mister,” he said softly, looking a little shy but determined. “Did you ever catch a three-pound golden trout?”

      Denver blinked. It seemed an odd question. But then, kids were odd. He never had got the hang of dealing with them. “Can’t say that I have,” he answered gruffly, hoping that would satisfy him.

      The boy’s stare grew more intense. “Billy’s dad did,” he said, as though that proved something.

      Denver wanted to ask who the hell Billy was, but he stopped himself in time, and luckily, Charlie caught his attention.

      “More?” she was asking.

      He shook his head. “It was great,” he told her, and it was true, but he was definitely full. He couldn’t remember when a woman had last cooked for him like this. Looking at her, he wished he could tell her how much it meant to him. But on second thought, maybe it would be better to let it go.

      She cleared away a few dishes, then settled back in her chair and smiled at him as though ready for the next item on her agenda, and he tensed, ready to run.

      “So, Mr. Denver Smith,” she said pleasantly. “How long are you planning to stay?”

      “About five more minutes,” he drawled, avoiding her gaze.

      “No,” she responded with a quick laugh. “I mean here at the lake.”

      “A few weeks,” he said, not filling in any details. After-dinner chitchat had never been one of his favorite activities.

      “What made you come here to our little two-horse town?” she asked, glancing around the table to see if anyone needed anything. “All we’ve got is the lake and a broken-down ski lift Hal Waters is trying to sell to some gullible flatlander. We don’t get too many...” She stopped and pretended to blot at a spill with her napkin. She was going to say “men like you” but then she realized that might be a little too blatant a compliment. “Anyway, what made you come here?”

      He shrugged. “I wasn’t looking for a tourist trap. I’m not staying long.”

      “And then what will you be going back to?” she asked.

      He glanced at her, amused. He knew what she was up to, and he knew she knew he knew. But that didn’t mean she was going to get what she was after. “I suppose I’ll be going back to where I came from,” he told her casually.

      She blinked, then leaned forward, her jaw at a determined angle, reminding him suddenly of her child. “And where, exactly, is that?” she insisted, her deep violet eyes pinning him to the wall.

      He put off answering long enough to see those eyes flare with indignation before he gave her a tidbit. “I’ve got an apartment,” he admitted at last, suddenly feeling a little silly about being so close-mouthed. Years of training had made him that way. Experience and natural suspicion had intensified the instinct to keep his private life private—even from friends. But it could be he was going a little far here. After all, what would it hurt to tell Charlie a few things about himself? “I’m not there much, but it’s sort of a home base. It’s in San Francisco.”

      “San Francisco.” She nodded, and there was a faraway look in her СКАЧАТЬ