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  They didn’t talk, but she didn’t mind. It was enough just riding alongside Hawk on a warm but overcast day in late January with the wind only a whisper in the grass and a gentle stroke on her face.

  They cantered for a bit, then took the horses to a trot and later a full gallop before slowing to a canter again.

  “The ranch is in good shape,” Hawk said, finally breaking the easy silence he’d sustained for over a half hour. “A few of the fences need repair, but it wouldn’t take much to get them in order. You could run a few hundred cattle easily on this spread.”

  “I don’t know anything about raising cattle.”

  “You could learn. That’s what Linney’s doing. Reading everything she can get her hands on and asking questions of the local ranchers. Cutter accuses her of worrying more about the horses and the herd she’s building than she does him.”

  “Cutter exaggerates.”

  “He does, but still you could make it work here for you. Not that you necessarily should,” he added. “It was just a thought.”

  She felt as if he were dismissing more than the conversation and was glad when the bare branches of the spreading oaks came into view. The creek had always been her favorite place on the ranch. The water was running fast and clear after the recent rains and she could hear it gurgle before they reached the spiny shadows of the trees.

  Hawk dismounted, tied his horse then helped her do the same. They walked to the edge of the creek bed, stepping over muddy spots where the water was slow to drain. Two turtles slipped off a half-submerged log and splashed into the water.

  “How do you know so much about ranching?” she asked.

  “I was raised on one up in southern Oklahoma. My dad was the foreman. I helped from the time I was big enough to lift a pitchfork of hay.”

  “So you’re not a pretender but a true cowboy.”

  “Whatever that means.”

  “According to Linney, it means a lot in Texas.” Things like a love for the land they sweated for, keeping their word and never turning their back on a neighbor. It meant strong ties to their family and community and doing what was needed whenever it was needed.

  “What made you leave the ranch and go into the service?”

  “Got tired of the pitchfork and decided to see how a rifle felt.”

  He’d avoided the question. She should probably stop while she was ahead. But he knew all about her. She should know something of what made him who he was.

  “Were your parents upset when you made that decision?”

  “My dad was dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He walked away, meandering down the banks of the creek bed without her but still in hearing range.

  “What about your mother?”

  “What about her?”

  “Was she upset?”

  “She hadn’t bothered to come around in years, so I’m guessing she didn’t really care what I did with my life.”

  Now Alonsa was really sorry she’d kept up with the questions.

  “Come here and look toward that shrub on the other side of the creek,” Hawk called.

  Thankful to drop the subject, she walked over and did as he said.

  “About halfway across the creek,” Hawk said, pointing to the spot. “Just below the surface.” He held on to her as she edged closer to the water.

  She spotted the fish, staying in that one spot as if it were anchored, only its whiskers twitching in the moving water. “Is that a catfish?”

  “One big enough to feed a crowd. You ever bring Brandon fishing down here?”

  “I wouldn’t know how to bait a hook.”

  “I could teach you and him.”

  The offer had a gravelly quality to it and suddenly Alonsa was all too aware of how close she was standing to Hawk and how his grip had tightened around her waist. She shifted so that she could see his face and look into his eyes. There was no mistaking the desire burning in their dark depths.

  She pushed her body against his and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in the thick locks of his hair. Finally, his lips found hers. The kiss loosed a rush of passion that ran hot and sweet inside her.

  She thrust her body against him, sucked his breath into hers, trembled as his fingers splayed across her back and pulled her so close that she didn’t know her heartbeat from his.

  Her world began to spin. She’d forgotten that her body could burn like the sun had crawled into her chest. Or maybe it had never been quite like this.

  Hawk’s hands roamed her back while his lips crushed and possessed hers. Her lungs burned until she could barely breathe, and still she wanted more.

  A RAW, POWERFUL HUNGER ripped through Hawk, his need becoming a raging fire that burned out of control. He hadn’t planned this, but now that it had started, he knew just how badly he’d wanted it.

  His tongue invaded Alonsa’s mouth, tangling with hers. His hands slipped beneath the back of her sweater. Her bare skin was soft to his touch, warm and seductive. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  He pulled her to him, lifting her and letting her slide down the throbbing length of him, his erection so hard his jeans could barely contain it. His chest was bursting, his mind reeling from the thrill.

  He opened his eyes and scanned the area, intuitively searching for a place to lay Alonsa down on a carpet of leaves and soft grasses. A place where he could ravage every beautiful inch of her and find ways to fill her with pleasure and with him. The need was too strong to turn back now.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, low at first and then growling like rolling gunfire. The sound triggered a new level of alertness inside Hawk. He snapped to attention, the knowledge of what he was doing turning the fiery urges that drove him into pure agony.

  Had he lost his mind? He couldn’t throw Alonsa on the ground and make love to her like some animal in heat and then take her home to start drilling her about her private life.

  The situation was just too damn invasive. Poor choice of words since invading her was exactly what he wanted to do. His entire body was in a state of massive sensual overload.

  God, how he needed her. But not like this. Not when even before the passion had cooled, he had to start questioning her about her life with another man, the husband she’d lived with and made love to and had kids with.

  He let his arms drop from around her and took a small step backward. His body felt stiff and exposed without hers pressing against it. The hunger for her was still pulsing inside him.

  She stared at him, her expression impossible to read. Then her eyes sparked angrily and he winced as if she’d slapped him.

  It would have felt better if she had. Anyone who thought doing the right thing made a man feel good had never pulled away, in full heat, from a woman like Alonsa.

  The thunder rumbled again, louder this time, and a streak of lightning zigzagged through the low hanging clouds. “Looks like those afternoon thundershowers the weatherman predicted are coming in early,” he said. “We should get back to the house before it hits.”

  She stamped toward Suzy Q without answering or giving him so much as a backward glance.

  They reached the house as the first drops of rain began to plop onto his hat. “Just in time,” he said, dismounting and walking over to help her do the same.

  She ignored his hand and slid to the ground on her own. “Do you need help getting the horses back in the trailer?”

  “No, you stay dry. I can handle it.”

  “Fine.” She turned and started toward the house, the heels of her short black boots slapping the driveway pavement.

  Suzy Q neighed and pawed the ground.

  “I know. I’m a horse’s butt. Nothing personal.” But he still had to take care of the business he’d come here to discuss.

  “We need to talk, Alonsa.” His voice sounded a lot sharper than he’d intended.

  “Some other time,” she called back. “I’m really busy now.”

  He swallowed hard. He’d chan
ged all the dynamics they’d had working for them, but he still had a job to do and a promise to keep. “It’s about the investigation.”

  She stopped walking but still didn’t turn around. “Okay. Let yourself inside when you’re finished. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  Great, the nice, cozy kitchen while she glared at him and talked about her late husband, the famous FBI agent who’d probably never done anything wrong in his short life.

  Chapter Eight

  Rejection, pure and simple. After two years, Alonsa had put herself out there, and Hawk Taylor had said no, thanks. Only he hadn’t bothered with the thanks.

  There was no way she’d misread all the signals, definitely no way she hadn’t felt his own hard need when he’d pressed his body against hers.

  No way that sudden, precipitous dip in passion stemmed from the prospect of getting wet. He was a former navy SEAL, for cripes’ sake! It wasn’t like a little water would kill him.

  But something had stopped him cold in his scalding hot tracks. He’d said he wasn’t married but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a significant other. But if that was it, why not just come out and say it?

  Another woman. That made sense. They were falling all over him at the party the other night. Maybe he’d followed up with one of them. Possibly Keidra Shelton. She was attractive, divorced and new to the area, having just moved to the Woodlands from somewhere in the Northeast.

  Fine by Alonsa. She might have acted like a sex-starved bimbo at the creek, but she wasn’t one. All she needed Hawk for was to find Lucy, so if Hawk wanted to talk about that, she was happy to oblige.

  She glanced at the clock. But they’d have to talk fast. She had to leave here in forty-five minutes to pick up Brandon and she absolutely would not be late for that.

  The doorbell rang. What part of let yourself in did the man not understand?

  She’d kicked out of her muddy boots and left them on the porch and her neon purple socks peeked from beneath her jeans as she padded back to the front of the house. Her bright-hued socks and erotic panties were the two concessions she’d not made with her transition from flamboyant Broadway dancer to parenthood.

  The front door was open wide. Hawk was standing just outside it, wringing a river of water from his shirt. Rain trickled from his hair to roll down his ears and neck and onto his broad, bare shoulders. His wet jeans clung to him. His naked toes wiggled on the drenched doormat.

  Virility might as well have been tattooed across his damp, muscled chest.

  Her insides did a belly flop that ended in a sharp, painful intake of breath. Where was her pride?

  “You’re drenched,” she managed through a clogged throat. “I didn’t realize it had started raining so hard.” She’d been too lost in analyzing his rejection.

  “I don’t want to track water onto your floor. Can you get me a towel?”

  “Right. Sure. A towel. Wait right here.”

  She returned a minute later with two large fluffy brown ones from the first-floor guest suite. She tossed them to him. “Anything else?”

  “That should do it. I’m sorry to be so much trouble, but I came up with this theory and I need more information.”

  “Talk’s not a problem, Hawk. The investigation is my first priority. And I’m not bothered by a few drops of water.” She turned on a dime and marched back to the kitchen, ready to put the morning’s rejection behind her and move on.

  Finding Lucy was all that mattered.

  CARNE WAS CURLED UP near the back door, sound asleep though his tail switched from time to time, no doubt missing his playmate. Alonsa stood at the sink, scraping carrots. Hawk straddled a kitchen chair, the wet jeans chafing a bit, but he’d endured a lot worse.

  “I’ve gone over the entire list of reported sightings, including the ones that happened well after Lucy’s disappearance,” Hawk started, needing to get this over and done with since Alonsa had just given him a time limitation.

  “I’ve also talked to a few of the people who called them in. As far as I can tell all the reports other than Marilyn Couric’s were thoroughly checked out and proved erroneous. And I’ve gone over every scrap of info from Craig. At this point, I have to assume both the FBI and the HPD did a competent job of checking out other known suspects as well, though I’ll go back to that if need be.”

  “So what is this new theory you mentioned?”

  “It’s the abduction itself and the calls you’ve received. Tonya Carrigan’s photograph shows that Lucy was led from the zoo by a woman. Typically the fact that it’s a female kidnapper rules out a sexual assault crime.”

  Typically, but not always. He was certain Alonsa knew that and this wasn’t the time to throw that very sick possibility into the mix.

  “There was no request for a ransom,” Hawk continued, “which lessens the likelihood that this was either an orchestrated or random moment-of-opportunity crime for financial gain. And the telephone calls drastically reduce the possibility that the woman just found a lost child and decided to take the child to raise her as her own.”

  Alonsa finally turned away from the carrots and faced Hawk. “But that could have happened. The woman could be taking care of Lucy now as if she were her own daughter. Lucy could be safe and well cared for.”

  “I’m not eliminating the possibility that she’s safe and well, but why torment you with those calls if all the kidnapper wants is anonymity?”

  Alonsa washed her hands, dried them on a flowered cup towel and joined him at the table. “So we’re back to the original theory of this being a grudge crime against Todd?”

  He nodded. “But not necessarily one that had anything to do with his being an FBI agent. And not necessarily aimed at Todd.”

  “You think someone is trying to get back at me by kidnapping Lucy? That’s absurd. What could I have ever done to anyone to make them hate me that much? No sane person would ever go that far.”

  “I didn’t limit this to being aimed at you.”

  “Exactly what are you getting at, Hawk?”

  “Just that paybacks in the world of drug cartels and hardened criminals usually come in the way of a violent act with some kind of calling card, so to speak. That way there’s no mistaking who’s behind it. I’m sure the FBI has come to that same conclusion.

  “Kidnapping, on the other hand, seems more personal. So do the phone calls. I just think it makes sense that whatever is behind those actions has to be personal, too.”

  She pushed her hair back from her face with both hands, keeping her fingers in place and squeezing her temples. Then the lines in her face and neck grew taut and she dropped her hands and collapsed into the kitchen chair catty-corner from his. “There are a lot of crazy people in the world.”

  “Too many,” Hawk agreed. “That’s why I need to know the personal details of your life, things that wouldn’t be any of my business under ordinary circumstances.”

  “Things like whether or not I was sleeping with some other woman’s husband when Lucy was kidnapped?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted, really glad now they hadn’t made love back at the creek. It would make her think him even more the jerk.

  “But this isn’t limited to affairs or romantic triangles, Alonsa. I need to know everyone who might have reason to bear a serious grudge against you. Maybe someone you beat out for a juicy role on Broadway. Anyone who was unreasonably jealous of you for any reason, justified or not.”

  “Then why don’t we start with my infidelities.”

  His stomach clenched.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I was only sleeping with my husband at the time.”

  “I wasn’t accusing you, Alonsa. It’s that the investigation—”

  She put up a hand to stop his apology. “Not a problem. You’re just doing your job.”

  “What about the other aspects of your life?”

  “This may sound naive, but I can’t think of a single enemy I had in New York. I danced in chorus lines. We were competitive, but it was neve
r any one person who beat you out of a chance. And at the time Lucy was abducted, I wasn’t even performing.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll give this some thought and get back to you, Hawk, but right now I can’t think of a single person who’d go to such extremes to hurt me.”

  Which left Todd. He hated going there, but he’d crossed so many lines today, one more couldn’t hurt. “Do you think Todd was unfaithful?”

  And there it was, out in the open. The answer pooled in her dark eyes like melted snow. Thankfully this time the hurt and anger weren’t directed at him.

  “I think my husband was probably having an affair when he died. I don’t have proof, but the signs were there. He’d stopped coming to my bed weeks before that. I’d talked to him about a separation but hadn’t filed. It’s hard to make that move when you have two young children.”

  She reached across the table and absently picked up a toy dinosaur from a line of them Brandon had likely been playing with at breakfast. She ran her index finger along the edges and then set it down in front of her.

  “You’re the first person in Dobbin that I’ve told about that.”

  “It won’t go any further,” he said. He fought the urge to cover her hands but it would have been too awkward after the morning’s botched encounter.

  “Todd and I had grown so far apart after I got pregnant with Brandon that I can’t tell you much about his personal life.”

  “Who could?”

  “Probably his lover, but I don’t know her name. To tell you the truth, I don’t want to know it. He’s dead, and I only plan to pass along the good memories of him to his children.”

  “What about a close friend, someone not associated with the FBI?”

  “Mitch Gavin,” she answered quickly. “That was his best friend since college. They got together at least once a week. If anyone can tell you anything, it would be Mitch.”