Loe raamatut: «The Cowboy's Son»

“I think your need to protect me is all mixed up with what you think is an attraction to me.”

“What I think is attraction,” he repeated. There was a dangerous edge to his voice, as if she’d just pushed a button that shouldn’t have been pushed.

The air between them changed.

He changed.

Collena didn’t back away. She wasn’t afraid of him. But she was afraid of what she’d started. So much for analysing him and blowing off the attraction.

“Let’s test your theory,” he said. “Let’s see if there’s any lust buried beneath all that need to protect you.”

And with that, he reached for her.

Before Collena could even catch her breath, Dylan lowered his head and took her mouth as if he owned her.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Collena Drake – Former cop and head of the task force to find a group of illegally adopted babies, including her own. Her search leads her to powerful Texas horseman Dylan Greer, the man raising her toddler son.

Dylan Greer – The Texas billionaire who had no idea that he was participating in anything illegal when he adopted Collena’s son. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep the little boy he’s raised as his own. Even if that includes a marriage of convenience to Collena.

Adam Greer – Collena’s sixteen-month-old son was stolen from her at birth.

Ruth Sayers – Dylan’s former nanny who now helps take care of Adam. She’s possessive of Adam and resents Collena.

Millie Sayers – Ruth’s daughter and assistant nanny. Does she want Collena off the ranch so she can have Dylan for herself?

Deputy Sheriff Jonah Burke – There’s bad blood between Dylan and him, and Jonah could be letting their past interfere with the investigation that could save Collena, Dylan and Adam.

Rodney Harmon – The convicted felon went to jail because of Collena’s testimony. Now he’s escaped and is after her.

Curtis Reese – Adam’s biological paternal grandfather. He plans to fight both Collena and Dylan for custody of Adam.

Hank Sayers – Dylan’s longtime employee who might also be responsible for a string of deaths that have haunted Dylan for years.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

The Cowboy's Son

DELORES FOSSEN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my wonderful editor, Allison Lyons.

Thanks for everything.

Chapter One

Greer, Texas

“Sir, we have an intruder on the grounds,” the housekeeper warned Dylan Greer.

Dylan’s stomach clenched into a cold, hard knot. He silently cursed, said a brusque goodbye to his business associate in London and dropped the phone back onto its cradle.

An intruder. Well, the person had picked a good day for it.

It was Thanksgiving morning, barely minutes after sunrise, and he’d given most of his household help time off for the holiday. He was understaffed. Plus, there was a snowstorm moving in. With the already slick, icy roads, it’d probably take the sheriff at least twenty minutes to get out to the ranch.

“Where is he?” Dylan asked Vergie, the housekeeper, through the two-way speaker positioned on his desk.

“The north birthing stables.”

In other words, too close to the house. That meant Dylan had to take care of this on his own.

“Call the sheriff,” Dylan instructed Vergie as he unlocked his center desk drawer and took out the Sig Sauer that he’d hoped he would never have to use. He grabbed his thick shearling coat from the closet and put his gun and his cell phone in the pocket.

“You want me to tell Hank to go out there with you?” Vergie asked.

“No.” Hank, the handyman, was seventy-two and had poor eyesight and hearing. Besides, this might be Dylan’s chance to have a showdown with the person who’d made his life a living hell.

Dylan worked quickly to get the information he needed. He used his security surveillance laptop to bring up the camera image of the exterior of the birthing stables. It wasn’t the most vulnerable spot on his six-hundred-and-thirty acres, but it did have one major security flaw.

Accessibility.

Anyone could have parked on the dirt road a quarter of a mile away from his property, climbed the eight-foot-tall wooden fence and made their way across the pasture to the stables. Not an effortless undertaking in the cold, but it was doable.

And, on his computer screen, he saw the person who’d managed that feat.

There, next to the birthing-stable doors, was a shadowy figure holding a pair of binoculars. The person was dressed all in black. Black pants, bulky black coat and a knit cap. That attire and those binoculars weren’t positive signs. Whoever it was hadn’t dropped by to wish him a happy Thanksgiving.

Mercy, did he really have a killer on the grounds?

With everything that’d happened, Dylan couldn’t take the chance that this was all some innocent intrusion.

“Lock up when I leave,” Dylan instructed the housekeeper from the intercom. “And call me immediately if our guest moves closer to the house.”

He left through the French doors of his office and stepped into the bitter cold. It wasn’t officially even winter yet, but the weather obviously didn’t know that—it was a good twenty degrees below normal. The wind howled out of the north, slamming right through his jacket, shirt, jeans and boots. A few snowflakes whirled through the air.

The birthing stables were on the opposite side of the house from where he’d exited, so Dylan knew the intruder hadn’t seen him with those binoculars. He ran, following a row of Texas sagebrush and mountain laurel, hoping the shrubbery would conceal him for as long as possible. He wanted the element of surprise on his side. Correction. He needed that. Because this person might have already committed murder.

With that brutal reminder crawling through his head, Dylan took out his gun so that he’d be ready. He had to protect his son at all costs, and if necessary, that would include an out-and-out fight. He wasn’t going to lose someone else he loved to this nameless, faceless SOB.

Though the cold burned his lungs and his boots seemed unsteady on the ice-scabbed pasture grass, he didn’t slow down until he reached the stables. Dylan went to the rear of the building so he could approach the intruder from behind, and peered around the corner. The person in black hadn’t moved an inch and was about fifty feet away.

He checked his watch. It’d been nearly fifteen minutes since the housekeeper had called the sheriff, and there was no sign of him. Dylan decided not to wait.

The wind worked in his favor. It was whipping so hard against the stables that it muffled his footsteps, and he halved the distance before he was heard. Dylan already had his gun aimed and ready when the intruder dropped the binoculars and spun around.

It was a woman.

She was pale and trembling, probably from the cold, and she reached inside her jacket, as if it were an automatic response to draw a weapon.

“Don’t,” Dylan warned. He wanted her alive to answer the questions he’d wanted to ask for twelve years.

She nodded and without hesitation lifted her gloved hands in surrender. “Dylan Greer,” she said.

It wasn’t exactly a question so Dylan didn’t bother to confirm it. “Mind telling me why you’re trespassing on my property?”

She didn’t answer. She just stood there staring at him.

Dylan didn’t want to notice this about her, but she looked exhausted and fragile. He didn’t let down his guard, though. There was too much at stake for him to do anything but stay vigilant.

He inched closer, so he could get a better look at her face. Definitely pale.

And definitely attractive.

Something he shouldn’t have noticed, but it would have been impossible not to observe that about her. Her eyes were dark chocolate-brown and a real contrast to the strands of wheat-blond hair that had escaped her black stocking cap.

“I don’t know you,” he said.

“No.”

Funny, he thought he would. Well, if she was the person responsible for two deaths. But he was beginning to doubt that she was the monster he originally believed her to be.

She didn’t look like a killer.

And he hoped his change in attitude didn’t have anything to do with those vulnerable brown eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Collena Drake.” She studied his face as if her name might mean something to him.

It didn’t.

But Dylan kept pressing. “What are you doing here?”

She looked away. “I needed…to see you.”

That hesitation and gaze dodging made him think she was lying. “The sheriff will be here any minute to arrest you for trespassing.”

“Yes. I figured if you spotted me that you’d call the authorities. I don’t blame you. If our positions were reversed, I would have done the same thing.”

Her rational, almost calm response confused and unnerved him. “Then why come? Why risk certain arrest?”

And he was positive he wasn’t going to like this answer. What would make this visit that important?

But the answer didn’t come after all. He could see that she was breathing hard. Her warm breath mixed with the cold air and surrounded her face in a surreal opal-white fog. Mumbling something that Dylan didn’t understand, she reached out with her right hand, grasping at the empty space, until she managed to catch on to the side of the building. The grip didn’t help steady her.

She crumpled into a heap on the ground.

Dylan didn’t let down his guard, or his gun, but he rushed to her to make sure she was okay. She’d apparently fainted, and when he touched her face, he discovered that her skin was ice-cold. After cursing, hesitating and then realizing there was nothing else he could do, he scooped her up into his arms and took her into the empty birthing stables.

He deposited her onto the hay-strewn concrete floor and flipped the switch on the wall to turn on the lights and the heater. Still, the place wouldn’t be warm for hours, so he grabbed a saddle blanket from the tack shelf and covered her with it.

Dylan checked the time again. The sheriff was obviously running late, and he debated calling an ambulance. Her color wasn’t great, but her breathing was steadier now and she had a strong pulse. This didn’t appear to be a life-threatening situation.

Since she had no purse, Dylan stooped down beside her and checked her coat pocket for some kind of ID. He found a wallet, a small leather flip case and keys. He looked inside the wallet and located her Texas driver’s license.

If the license was real, and it certainly looked as if it was, then her name was indeed Collena Drake. She was twenty-eight, five-feet-nine-inches tall, and she lived in San Antonio, a good two-hour drive away. Also in the wallet were credit cards and about three hundred dollars in cash, but no photos or other personal mementos to indicate exactly who this woman was.

However, the flip case gave him a clue.

It was a private investigator’s badge.

That didn’t answer any of Dylan’s questions, but it did add some new ones to the list of things he wanted to know about this fainting trespasser.

He pulled open her jacket and immediately saw the shoulder holster and gun. Since he didn’t want to take the chance of being shot, he extracted the weapon and put it in his own pocket.

“Miss Drake?” Dylan said, tapping her cheek. He took out his phone to call for an ambulance, but he stopped when she began to stir. “Are you all right?”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she ran her tongue over her wind-chapped bottom lip. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” he informed her. “Are you sick?”

She hesitated, as if giving that some thought. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Are you pregnant?” Not that there were any visible signs of a pregnancy, but then it would be hard to see a baby bump behind that loose sweater.

Something went through those intense dark eyes. Something painful. “No. Not a chance.” Collena Drake held on to the blanket but maneuvered herself to a sitting position. In the process, she brushed against a post, specifically a raised nail head that caught onto her stocking cap. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten. I’m light-headed.”

Dylan shook his head. “For a trespasser, you didn’t exactly come prepared, now, did you? You nearly froze to death and you’re starving. Is this your way of asking for an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner?”

“No,” she snapped. She pulled off her stocking cap, and her blond hair spilled onto her shoulders. She untangled the yarn from the nail and slipped the cap back on. “I didn’t come here for food.”

He hadn’t thought for a minute that she had. “Then, maybe it’s a good time for you to tell me why you did come?”

“Because you’re Dylan Greer.” She inched away from him. “I saw you yesterday. You were in town.”

That was true. He had gone into town the day before to do some early Christmas shopping. However, during all his errands, Dylan hadn’t seen this woman.

That caused his concern level to spike again.

Because Dylan wanted to make sure she understood that he didn’t approve of her, her presence or what she’d done, he leaned in closer. Too close. So that they were practically eye-to-eye.

She didn’t cower from him. In fact, her chin came up, and instead of fatigue and frustration, he saw some resolve in her expression.

“What’s a P.I. from San Antonio doing following me around town?” he demanded.

Her resolve increased even more. “I’ve been looking for you a long, long time, Dylan Greer.”

And it sounded a little like a threat.

“I’m not a hard man to find. I’ve lived in Greer all my life. The town is named for my great-great grandfather. And I own a fairly well-known horse-breeding business. My name is even on the mailbox at the end of my driveway.”

She made a soft sound of frustration. “You weren’t easy to find because I didn’t know I was looking for you.”

He heard the sheriff’s siren in the distance. Finally. It was about time. In five minutes, maybe less, he could turn all of this over to the authorities. But he couldn’t do that until he learned more about his visitor.

Tired of answers that weren’t making sense, Dylan decided to cut to the chase. “Did you kill my sister and my fiancée five years ago?”

Her eyes widened. “No. God, no.”

Collena Drake sounded adamant enough, but it didn’t satisfy Dylan. “Are you telling me that you didn’t know about their murders?”

“I knew. I mean, I ran a background check on you. Their deaths popped up on the computer records. But the computer records didn’t say anything about murder.”

“Trust me,” he snarled. “It was murder. Now, I want to know what you had to do with that.”

“Nothing. Until three days ago, I’d never even heard of you.”

Yet something else that didn’t make sense, especially since she’d said she’d been looking for him for a long, long time. “So, what changed three days ago?”

“Everything.”

The single word that left her mouth was more breath than sound.

Dylan didn’t need the winter to chill him, because that comment put some ice in his blood. He stood and stared down at her. Waiting for an explanation. And not at all sure that he really wanted to hear it.

“I’m a cop,” Collena Drake said, getting to her feet.

It was another crazy twist in this crazy encounter. “If you thought that would stop me from having you arrested, you thought wrong.”

“I have no expectations about how you will or won’t react to me.” She hugged the blanket tighter to her chest and waited a moment until her teeth stopped chattering. “Last year I took a leave of absence from the San Antonio PD so I could work full-time on the Brighton case.”

“Brighton?” he repeated. Dylan shrugged. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“You should. I’m talking about the Brighton Birthing Center investigation. Last year, the police discovered that the center was a front for all sorts of illegal activity.” She paused. “Including illegal adoptions.”

His heart felt as if someone had clamped a meaty fist around it. Because last year he’d adopted his own precious son, Adam. And he wasn’t just a part of Dylan’s life, Adam was his life.

“I didn’t go through Brighton to get my son,” he informed her.

“No. But Brighton still supplied the newborn that you adopted through the law firm you used.”

“What makes you think that?” Dylan fired back.

Her jaw muscles stirred. “Because for months I’ve investigated every detail, every file and every person who had any association whatsoever with Brighton. Then, three days ago, all the pieces finally came together, and I was able to figure out what’d happened.”

The siren grew closer, and Dylan knew that the sheriff was now on the ranch itself and headed straight for the birthing stable.

“Are you saying you believe that my son was illegally adopted?” Dylan asked.

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.

Oh, the thoughts that went through his mind. Nightmarish thoughts. Had the birth parents changed their minds about the adoption? Did they want Adam back? If they did, it wasn’t going to happen. Adam was his son in every way that mattered, and he wasn’t going to give him up.

Dylan pushed aside all the emotion he was feeling and focused on one glaring hole in her theory. “If you thought the adoption was illegal, then why did you come? Why aren’t the San Antonio police here instead?”

She met his regard head-on. “I came because I have a personal stake in this.”

Outside, the siren fell silent. Dylan heard the tires crunch on the frozen ground as the patrol car braked to a sudden stop.

“Is this your case?” he clarified.

Collena Drake shook her head. “It’s not just that I’m the investigating officer. I, too, was a victim of the Brighton Birthing Center. After giving birth there, my baby was stolen.”

Dylan was about to ask what that could possibly have to do with him, but the doors burst open. It wasn’t the sheriff but Deputy Jonah Burke, a hulk of a man who was armed with a semiautomatic. The deputy definitely wasn’t the person that Dylan wanted to see and, judging from Jonah’s expression, he felt the same about Dylan.

“Everything okay?” the deputy asked, his attention nailed to Collena Drake.

She let the blanket fall to the floor so that she could again lift her hands in a show of surrender. However, she kept her gaze pinned on Dylan.

“Sixteen months ago, I gave birth to a son,” she continued. Her voice cracked on the last word and her bottom lip began to tremble.

Dylan wasn’t trembling, but he felt some of that raw emotion himself.

“So?” he challenged.

“So, you illegally adopted him. I’m Adam’s mother.”

Chapter Two

Collena held her breath and waited for Dylan Greer’s reaction to what she’d just told him.

She’d braced herself for just about anything. Shouts, accusations, violence, perhaps even an arrest. But neither violence, nor an arrest would stop her from making him understand the truth.

Dylan Greer had her son.

Just silently saying the words made Collena’s heart ache. Yes, she’d found her baby—finally—but the man who’d adopted him was a massive obstacle who stood in the way of her becoming a real mother to her child.

Collena was prepared to make any and all compromises to be a mother. What she wouldn’t do was walk away and not be part of her son’s life. No way. She wouldn’t do to her child what her own mother had done to her.

“Well?” the deputy prompted. “Is someone gonna tell me what in the sam hill is going on here?”

With their eyes locked, Collena waited to see what Dylan would say. He didn’t make it easy on her—she had to wait several long moments.

“I’m not sure,” Dylan answered. “But I’ll find out.”

The deputy turned up the collar on his thick wool coat. “Mind if we ‘find out’ someplace warmer? I’m freezing my butt off out here. And if this is some kind of lovers’ quarrel—”

“It’s not,” Collena and Dylan said in unison.

But she did agree with the deputy on one thing. She was freezing, too. And she was dizzy. How could she have been so stupid not to eat before she set out to try to get a glimpse of her child? It was an understatement to say she’d been preoccupied with seeing her son, but fainting and feeling weak weren’t good bargaining tools for what would no doubt be a major battle with Dylan Greer.

“How about we take this to the house?” the deputy suggested. “I can have a cup of Ina’s coffee and you two can decide when you’re going to let me know what’s going on.” He aimed his index finger at Dylan. “But I warn you, if you brought me all the way out here on Thanksgiving for nothing, then even Ina’s coffee won’t improve my mood.”

The ruddy-faced deputy added a lopsided smile to indicate he was only partly joking. Dylan didn’t return the smile. The tension between them was almost as thick as it was between Dylan and Collena.

Almost.

“Can you walk on your own?” Dylan asked her. He waited just long enough for her nod before he headed out of the stables and in the direction of his house.

Where her son was.

That sent Collena’s heart racing, and it was for all the right reasons. She might get to see her child.

Ahead of her, Dylan took out his phone and Collena heard him make a call. He told whomever answered to unlock his office door and to make sure Adam stayed out of there for a while.

Collena wouldn’t be able to see him. Part of her understood that. Dylan Greer didn’t know her at all. Judging from the questions he’d barked at her, he thought she might be a killer.

Now, that brought on more than just raw nerves. What had happened to this man to make him think a trespasser was out to murder him? And were his suspicions valid? Collena certainly intended to look into the matter, because if it was true, her son might also be in danger.

“Some advice?” the deputy drawled. “It’s not a good idea to trespass on Dylan’s property. Since he adopted that little boy, he doesn’t pull any punches about stuff like that. He’ll have your butt arrested in a New York minute.”

Collena ignored the warning and brushed some snowflakes off her face. “Is he a good father?”

The deputy glanced at her as if she were mentally a little off. “Yeah. He is. A surprise, if you ask me. When the two of us were growing up, I never took Dylan for the fatherly type.”

Well, the deputy was apparently the only person surprised with Dylan’s fatherly attributes. In the past three days, Collena’s team of investigators had dug up everything they could on the man, and from all accounts Dylan wasn’t just a good father, he was an outstanding one. In addition, he had a sterling reputation and was considered to be an honest, dependable man if not a little ruthless when it came to running his business.

And it was all those things combined that had made Collena come up with her plan.

A plan that had to work. Even though she had no idea how she was going to convince Dylan Greer to do what she needed him to do.

She studied the man ahead of her. He had the looks to go along with that sterling reputation. He was, for lack of a better word, golden. Bronze-colored hair that fell low on the back of his neck. Naturally tan skin. And those sizzling green eyes. Amazing eyes to compliment his amazingly rugged face.

Collena hated that she noticed the last part, but it would have been impossible to ignore. If the world ever needed a cowboy cover model, Dylan Greer would be the perfect man for the job.

She’d expected to feel insecure and inferior around him, what with his money, education and power. There would always be some of that. But Collena hadn’t expected to feel the slight tingle inside that reminded her she was a woman.

A hungry woman.

The tingle couldn’t have anything to do with Dylan. Low blood-sugar levels were to blame. And Collena refused to believe otherwise. She had a job to do here, and she couldn’t let tingling feelings get in the way.

“I take it there’s a history between Dylan and you?” The deputy didn’t wait for her to answer. “Were you two lovers and then you gave up your baby for adoption?”

“Nothing like that,” she muttered. So she wouldn’t have to continue this interrogation, she hurried to catch up with Dylan. “Did you hear what I said about being Adam’s mother?”

It was a rhetorical question, a way to get the conversation started. Because Collena was dead certain he had heard every single word she’d said back there in the stables.

He spared her a glance and kept walking through the pasture. “There was no reason to respond because I don’t believe you.”

Ah, skepticism. She’d expected that, too. “It’s the truth. I have proof.”

Another glance. This one had some fire and ice to it. He had the eyes for such a range of emotion. Those shades of green seemed both hot and cold at the same time. Right now, they were leaning toward the chilly side, and that chill was all aimed at her.

“I’ll be interested in this so-called proof,” he said, opening the door. He went in ahead of her and checked out the place before he motioned for her to enter.

Collena stepped inside the toasty warm room, and she could almost feel her body sigh with relief. The deputy came in, shut the door behind him and brushed the snowflakes off his clothes.

Collena soon detected the source of the welcoming heat. There was a massive stone fireplace with flames flickering inside. The place smelled of mesquite wood and the scents from the winter pasture that they’d brought in with them. There was also the aroma of roasting turkey and pumpkin pie. Someone was apparently getting ready for Thanksgiving.

Her stomach growled, but Collena ignored it. She had a more important task at hand.

Dylan Greer’s office was exactly what she’d expected. Palatial and functional. Horse-themed artwork on the walls. Rich, glossy woods for the floor and desk, and on the desk was a sliver-thin computer monitor and a gleaming silver tray with coffee, raisin wheat toast, biscuits and crystal dishes of various jams and marmalades.

A photograph next to the computer monitor caught Collena’s eye. It was a picture of Dylan holding a baby.

Her baby.

But before she could get a better look, Dylan grabbed the photo and slammed it facedown on his desk. He picked up his phone, punched in some numbers and requested a background check on her.

Which she’d expected. She’d certainly done a thorough check on Dylan.

“Jonah, you can go get your coffee now,” Dylan advised.

The deputy scowled at what was obviously an order, but he headed for the set of interior doors. However, the doors opened before he could get to them.

A woman was in the doorway. Ina, maybe? She was in her late fifties, Collena guessed, and her copper-red hair was cut very short, less than an inch long around her entire head.

“Where’s Adam?” Dylan immediately asked.

“Still asleep. I was about to wake him for breakfast and then give him a bath.” She glared at Collena with piercing stone-gray eyes. “Are you the intruder?”

“Yes.” The woman’s scrutiny suddenly made Collena feel a tad guilty. “I’m sorry that I caused such a fuss.”

The woman made a grunting sound of disapproval.

“Go back to the nursery,” Dylan told his employee. It was another order. “And stay there until you hear from me.”

The woman’s sound of disapproval became one of concern. “What’s going on, Dylan?”

“I’ll fill you in later.” He didn’t say another word until both the woman and the deputy were out of the room and the doors were closed.

“Was that the nanny?” Collena asked.

He paused so long that she didn’t think he would answer. “Yes. Her name is Ruth. If you did a background check on me, then you also know she was my own nanny and someone I trust.”

“Ruth Sayers,” Collena supplied. “Her name did come up.” And she was clean. No criminal record. In fact, not even a traffic violation.

“Just what kind of proof do you think you have about the adoption being illegal?” Dylan asked.

“More than enough.” Because she was feeling light-headed again, Collena sank down into the plush saddle-brown leather chair across from his desk and tugged off her gloves. “As I said I’ve been investigating the Brighton case since August of last year. When I realized just how many babies had been illegally adopted, I asked for help from the pediatric community. I was able to get names of adopted babies, and I compared them to those who had been legally adopted.”

He pushed the silver tray toward her and motioned for her to eat. When he motioned a second time, Collena pinched off a piece of raisin wheat toast and popped it into her mouth. Even though it was cold, it tasted heavenly.

“And you’re saying that Adam’s name came up on that list of adopted babies?” he asked. But he didn’t just ask. It was buried under a mountain of skepticism.

She nodded. “Adam’s name and one hundred and twelve other infant boys. There were a lot of them, and that’s why it’s taken me so long to find my son.”

His jaw turned to iron. He paced a few steps in front of the fireplace, turned and stared at her before taking one of the biscuits, opening it and handing both it and the silver jam spoon to her.

With the hopes that her faintness would go away, Collena smeared some strawberry jam on one half and started to eat. Dylan didn’t say anything until she had finished.