Showdown at Shadow Junction. Joanna Wayne

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СКАЧАТЬ with his, though she was afraid to even guess what he meant by the last part of the toast.

      Now that she thought about it, she wondered if he had ordered the champagne himself. This supposedly impromptu meeting was feeling more like an orchestrated seduction scene by the minute.

      What was he looking for from her? A sexual hookup on his last night in the States? One-night stands were not her style.

      But what if he offered more? A visit to his lavish Barcelona villa to get know her better? A few weeks on his yacht?

      They’d almost finished their champagne before Quaid reached into the pocket of his tailor-made sport coat. He pulled out a small shiny red box tied with silver ribbon, the trademark wrapping for a custom-made Vaquero jeweled creation.

      Surely he wasn’t planning to give her anything that pricey—unless he really was interested in pursuing a relationship. As tempting as it all sounded, she didn’t know that she was interested. She loved her life just as it was.

      Quaid handed her the box.

      She finished off her champagne, suddenly too nervous to even tug the ribbon loose from the package. Finally, she eased the silver bow from around the corners and lifted the lid. She stared, too overwhelmed to speak.

      “Do you like them?”

      “I love them. How could I not?” She gingerly lifted one of the earrings from its nest of black velvet. A dangling emerald shimmered with a thousand pinpoints of light.

      “I don’t know what to say. They’re exquisite. I’ve never owned anything like this, but...”

      “Say thank you,” Quaid suggested. “I designed and had them made especially for you.”

      She was stunned. Emotionally touched. Light-headed.

      “They’re absolutely exquisite, but I really can’t accept...” The emerald began to dance in front of her eyes. Her tongue grew thick, slurring her words.

      She reached for the back of a chair to steady herself as the room began to spin. A second later her legs gave way and she crumpled to the floor.

      “Jade, what’s wrong?”

      She tried to answer but couldn’t form the words. Quaid lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down, she felt his hands at her throat.

      She closed her eyes and when she opened them, he was floating above her in an opaque mist as if he were being swallowed by the suffocating vapor.

      He wasn’t alone. Reggie Lassiter was there, as well. Shadowy figures lurked in the background.

      Loud voices. Reggie pointing a gun.

      And then it all whirled away in a cloud as dark as midnight.

       Chapter Two

      R.J. Dalton stepped through the front door, sipped his coffee and stared out over his front lawn. It was getting harder and harder to recognize the place where he’d spent all his life. Almost eight decades.

      His daughters-in-law, Hadley and Faith, had spent hours sprucing up the place. New flower beds bordered the freshly painted porch. A dozen or more blooming plants he couldn’t name were tucked in with the morning glories, zinnias, marigolds and petunias. Hanging pots overflowed with geraniums.

      Colorful pillows and cushions not only brightened the porch swing and outdoor rockers but made them a lot more comfortable.

      He appreciated the effort, but still more often than not, it was flashes of the past that gripped him when he settled in his favorite rocker. The memories ran roughshod through his mind, good and bad, hit and miss, the events in no coherent order.

      His short-term memory was even less dependable. Countless times a day he walked from one room to another only to forget why or what he was looking for. Some of that he figured was just old age.

      But the gaps in time, the shaky hands and the dizzy spells he chalked up to the inoperable tumor in his brain. The dang thing was growing again, according to his neurosurgeon.

      Not that R.J. had any right to complain. The cancer should have killed him over a year ago. Hell, his lifestyle should have killed him long before he got to be an old man.

      Boozing. Wild women. Aces up his sleeve. Bar fights. Not that he was proud of his past. It just was what it was and regret couldn’t change it. Wallowing in guilt wouldn’t change it, either, so he didn’t waste his time trying.

      He planned to spend his remaining days enjoying the good life he was lucky enough to have now. Four sons—Adam, Leif, Travis and Cannon—all making their homes with their families right here on the Dry Gulch Ranch, though only Cannon and his wife and baby girl, Kimmie, lived in the big house with R.J.

      Sons who had no reason to give a damn about R.J., yet they’d forgiven him his sorry parenting. Or at least they were making a stab at it and doing a bang-up job of not following in his footsteps.

      R.J. walked over and dropped into the old wooden rocker. The floorboards creaked as he rocked, about the only sound around this morning. Not that he minded the quiet, especially since he knew it wouldn’t last for long.

      One or the other of his sons, daughters-in-law or grandchildren were constantly stopping by to check on him. When they couldn’t, they made sure his housekeeper and friend, Mattie Mae, was around to see that he was taken care of.

      Only, Mattie Mae was off at her granddaughter’s college graduation this week. Lucky her. It would take a miracle for R.J. to live long enough to see one of his grandchildren graduate from college.

      The sound of a car’s engine interrupted R.J.’s reverie. He leaned forward, shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare with his wrinkled right hand as he tried to figure out who was coming down the ranch road.

      A surge of warmth washed through him when he recognized the silver Mercedes. Feeling much sprier than he had minutes ago, he stood and walked to the edge of the porch to greet his favorite neighbor.

      Carolina Lambert stepped out of the car and started up the walk to meet him. In her early fifties, she was still one of the best-looking women in the county. Rich, smart and a damn good cook, too.

      “You’re mighty dressed up to be making neighborly house calls,” he said.

      “I’m on my way to Dallas.”

      “Got a date?”

      “You know better than that. I have a meeting with some of the major donors for my for my Saddle-Up charity.”

      “How’s that going?”

      “It’s gaining speed. I’m hoping to enlist at least a dozen additional ranchers to join the program this year. It’s truly amazing what a month in the summer spent on a working ranch can do for troubled inner-city kids.”

      R.J. smiled. “Always the do-gooder.”

      “I’m blessed. It would be a travesty if I didn’t share.”

      “So, СКАЧАТЬ