Delaney's Sunrise Page 2

  She wanted to turn tail and rush back into the house, to find solace in her bedroom alone, but she stood her ground. She controlled her body, refusing to quiver under his raw scrutiny, even while she turned into gelatin inside.

  He was only a man. She told herself to not back down.

  Holding her head high and her back straight as a rod, she endured the sweet pain as his gaze scoured every inch of her. He visually caressed her, from the roots of her hair to the very tip of her new, shiny boots. His examination was purposeful and exaggerated, as if he intended to unnerve her.

  Unfortunately, he did. The strength in his menacing eyes, his high cheekbones, and large frame were enough to alarm anyone.

  Time had worked its invisible hands on him, too. Lines etched the skin around his eyes and mouth, but age hadn’t taken anything away from his striking good looks. Instead, he appeared more distinguished and breathtaking. She couldn’t deny the attraction that drew her. He was desirable, and could be devastatingly charming when he wanted to be. He just never wanted to be.

  She’d always believed Abe was born in the wrong era. He should have lived and fought with the likes of Jesse James and Doc Holliday. Seeing him sitting there with his worn, torn jeans, his old shirt and scuffed boots, one would never guess he was a man who’d once worked in a multi-billion dollar financial organization.

  Dee hadn’t known Abe then. But she’d heard he wore Armani suits, drove a fancy car and lived in a luxurious penthouse in Manhattan.

  Their eyes met. His were icy. She reminded herself they shared common interest...and familiar pain.

  “I’m glad you got my letter.” Her words sounded weak, edged in fear, even to her own ears. “I didn’t think it was fair to just show up without notice.”

  He kept his gaze steady, locking her in place with its intensity. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She swallowed, her throat dry. “Thanks for the warm welcome. I knew I could count on your hospitality.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” His voice deepened.

  Calm and sure, she ordered her nerves.

  He wanted to scare her into running away. She’d given him that pleasure five years ago, but never again, even if it meant growing a thicker skin and an even thicker heart.

  “Abe, do I really need to answer that question?”

  One booted foot propped against the railing, and the other stretched out in front of him as if he had no concern in the world. He slowly eased himself up until he stood his full height, six foot two, and a good two-hundred pounds. She knew he didn’t have an ounce of fat under his shirt and jeans. As he moved, his shirt clung to six-pack abs and toned biceps. She’d forgotten how intimidating his tall frame could be, especially compared to her five foot four, one-hundred-ten pound frame.

  He crossed the short distance between them. The scuff of his boots deafened her. Rolling her head back on tight shoulders, she looked up at him, refusing to squirm no matter how heated his gaze grew. He stopped within inches, towering over her.

  “You’re not welcome here.” His voice was a raspy whisper. His lips thinned, and one corner of his mouth dropped.

  Dee brought her arms up and hugged herself protectively, placing a palm over her chest. Was her blood pumping from fear...or excitement?

  Her lips trembled. She wasn’t afraid of him, but panic whirled inside her. He’d always had that effect on her. She’d hoped maturity would give her the advantage in controlling her reactions. Obviously her brain was on a different track than her spiraling feelings. Five years hadn’t dampened the rushing of her blood, the butterflies in her stomach or her trembling hands.

  She knew all too well that underneath the harsh, brawny exterior existed a teddy bear’s heart. Once upon a time, Abe had opened up to her. She’d glimpsed kindness and tenderness. If Dee had to guess, she’d say he didn’t let many people see the softer side.

  He’d just have to get used to the idea that she was back.

  “Abe,” she started, then stopped to moisten her lips. “I’m not here to cause problems. Can’t we just let go of the past and start a new friendship?”

  The muscles clenched in his neck. She waited for him to snap.

  “Let go?” His words were laced with anger. “It may be easy for you to forget the past, Dee, but he was my brother. Dammit, Jacob was my brother!”

  “And he was my fiancé.”

  “He was your fiancé for two months. He was my brother for twenty-six years.” His hands clenched into fists, and the line of his jaw hardened.

  She exhaled and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. The breeze picked up, carrying his scent to her nostrils. She inhaled the masculine smell. It brought back the familiar feeling of when his kisses had melted her. She moistened her bottom lip and silently swore as neglected muscles throbbed.

  “This isn’t a contest to see who has more of a right to mourn Jacob’s death, Abe.” She refused to look away. “We both loved him and lost him, and together we buried him. If we can’t get along for any other reason, it should be for his memory.” She rolled her next words around her mind before she continued. “He left me his share of Delaney’s Farm because he wanted me here.”

  He laughed. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, Dee? Last I looked, I didn’t have easily manipulated written across my forehead.” His lip curled. The explosion was coming, but she didn’t back away. “Look at you, Dee.” He ran his gaze over her frame. He should have just licked her from forehead to toes. It evoked the same feeling. “You don’t belong here. You come here in your fancy clothes and your shiny shoes and place yourself smack dab in the middle of my life. You believe you belong here because my brother willed you his half of the farm? You have no rights.” He turned on a booted heel and stalked to the railing, placing both hands on it. “Although Jacob owned half, he didn’t have the right to give it to you.”

  “I offered to sign it over to you, remember? We were sitting in the attorney’s office after the reading of the will and I told you I didn’t want the farm. I knew it wasn’t right for me to have it.” Her heavy sigh seemed to slice through the tension. “You refused to let me sign my share over to you.”

  He gripped the wood railing until his knuckles turned white. “Are you here to make that offer again?”

  Dee clasped her hands tightly. To Abe, she was just a lingering sign of Jacob’s rebellion. If Jacob had willed her his half of the farm, it was–in Abe’s mind–just another impulsive act in a long string of impulses that had centered around Dee. Jacob hadn’t been thinking clearly, Abe had said. After Jacob’s death, he’d accused her of clouding both their minds with her hypnotic poison.

  He turned. His emotions seemed under control, and his triple-layered wall appeared back in place. “Are you going to answer me? Are you here to make that offer again?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

  He pushed away from the rail and brushed past her. She kept her gaze on his back as he stomped off the porch. “That’s fine,” he muttered. “You’ll run again. The sooner, the better.”

  Chapter 2

  Dee watched as Abe marched toward the barn, his back stiff and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Icy fingers of dread skimmed down her spine and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly. She’d expected his anger. What she hadn’t anticipated was the way her body still responded to him with such profound intensity. She should be repulsed. She wasn’t.

  She turned on her heel and came face-to-face with Mrs. Graves, who blocked the doorway. The woman looked like a mama bear coming to her cub’s rescue. Dee could respect that Abe had a guardian, though he was the last one who needed protection. With a shrug and a fake smile, Dee said, “Well, that went well.”

  Mrs. Graves threw her head back and sniffed loudly. “I found it much like snake charming. The charmer hypnotizes the reptile simply by playing an instrument.” Her cool gray gaze slid over Dee’s body in silent implication.

  Dee stiffened her spine. “Am I the charmer in that comparison?”

  “You know what they say, if the scales fit...”

  “Well, I can assure you, they never met Abe Delaney.” Dee brushed past Mrs. Graves, fighting back the threatening mist of tears. She was a strong woman; she could handle the devil and his guard. She only needed a moment to regain her balance.

  Back in her bedroom and safely tucked away from both Mrs. Graves’ judgmental eye and Abe’s harsh attitude, she finally swallowed the lump in her throat. She scrubbed her knuckles against her damp eyes with a groan.

  Could the situation get any worse? She fell back onto the bed, pulled the downy blanket over her and closed her eyes.

  “Okay, Jacob.” Her voice echoed in the empty room. “I’m here at the farm. Your brother despises me. I suspect that Mrs. Graves, whom I’ve never met before today, hates me too. I’m sure you have your reasons for leaving me your share of ownership, but for the life of me I’m stumped.”

  After a good period of sulking, Dee moved from the bed and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. She hadn’t worn jeans in years. She found them comfortable. Her lifestyle in Chicago wasn’t fitting for jeans and boots. Designer clothes and lavish embellishment had been the norm.

  Who had she become since she moved to Chicago?

  She was only a fragment of that naïve girl who’d met a man, a week later agreed to marry him, and flown home with him to a farm located in nine-oh-two-one-nowhere. She’d blame the impulsiveness on lust, but no, that was impossible. Their relationship hadn’t gotten to that level.

  She had known little about Jacob. There were things a woman needed to learn about a man before she said “yes” to the engagement. She’d gone into the relationship curious about his middle name, his favorite color,
and what he slept in at night–if he slept in anything at all.

  People should know those things about a partner before they promised to spend their lives together. Her mother had been right when she’d told her not to jump into marriage with a stranger.

  Jacob had died before the wedding, but in truth their relationship had ended weeks before. They’d never have gone through with the ceremony. He’d destroyed a large part of her innocence. Her hopes of a happy ending had been smashed. When she’d found out Jacob had been living a double life she’d been floored. She’d had no clue who he truly was until he told her the truth.

  She pulled away from the mirror. As tempting as it was, she couldn’t hide in her bedroom all evening. Things wouldn’t change on their own. She had the power to make things better–and hoped Abe would come around, eventually.

  Feeling refreshed, she bounded downstairs. Mrs. Graves was working in the kitchen. Dee glanced across the room, admiring the modern stainless steel appliances and new cherry wood cabinetry. It was about time Abe got rid of the old stove and dated decor. This was a kitchen she could create culinary art in.

  “Hello, Mrs. Graves.”

  Mrs. Graves glanced up from kneading dough, gave Dee a brisk nod, then continued to pound the tan blob on the counter with a wooden rolling pin.

  Dee leaned against the cutter-board island, glancing across the mound of sliced apples, a variety of spices and a bowl of butter. “Those apples smell delicious.”

  Pausing again, Mrs. Graves brushed a loose curl off her forehead. “They’re from the trees in the grove. Apple is Abe’s favorite pie.” A hint of a smile lifted the corner of her thin mouth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  How could she forget apple was Abe’s favorite? She’d made him more than one pie while she lived on the farm. “Well, I’d be happy to lend a hand. Apple pie is one of my specialties.” She stole a piece of apple and popped it into her mouth. The crisp, sweet and juicy fruit brought her taste buds alive as her mind conjured up an array of recipes she could create with them. Recipes to seduce a man right out of his boots. She cleared her throat–and her mind. “I bet these make great pies.”

  With a tired sigh, the older woman shook her head. “With all due respect, Ms. Crawford, I enjoy working alone.”

  A tinge of hurt tugged at her heart. She understood some people enjoyed baking because it relaxed them, but the other woman’s cool attitude had nothing to do with anything so simple.

  Stepping back from the countertop, Dee straightened her back and dredged up a smile. “If you change your mind, let me know. Maybe you’d share a few secrets on how you roll your dough without tearing it.”

  With that, Dee left her alone.

  * * * *

  In the barn, Abe grabbed another beer from the cooler and struck the cap against a wooden beam. The top popped off and twirled through the air, landing in the cooler with a clink. He smiled as he brought the long neck to his lips and guzzled half before settling onto his favorite makeshift seat: a bale of hay.

  A cold brew never tasted better than when in his special place, which just happened to be the horse barn. He needed a buzz this evening. He could use a smoke too, but never lit up in the barn, and didn’t want to venture outdoors just yet.

  He cursed himself for picking up the habit again after dropping it nearly seven years ago. Another bad habit to add to the long list he’d accumulated over the last few months. He blamed Dee for almost every single one of them.

  Running his fingers through his hair, he made a mental note to get a trim. His entire schedule had been screwed since Dee had said she was coming. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but the idea that she’d be living at the farm. He shook as he remembered his anger when he’d finished the letter.

  She had no right to be here. He couldn’t care less if a piece of paper stated she owned half his land.

  No one, not even the law, could make her presence acceptable.

  “You out here hidin’?”

  Abe frowned as Mitch Goody, his friend and farm hand, ducked through the doorway. “I’m not hiding.”

  “Got your company, I see,” Mitch said in his slow Texas drawl.

  “Buddy, the term ‘company’ implies she’s welcome.” Abe grabbed an unopened beer from the cooler and tossed it to Mitch. “Pull up a bale. Bet you could use a cold one, too.”

  “I believe I’ll do that.” Mitch settled onto the bale.

  “Are the cows looking good?” Abe asked.

  After taking a long draw from the bottle, Mitch nodded. “They’re working out fine on the north end.” Mitch removed his black Stetson and scratched his thick mane of sandy curls. “Your unwelcome guest settling in okay?”

  “Dammit!” Abe swore; Mitch jerked. Abe jabbed a thumb toward the house. “I’m a stranger in my own home.” His anger, which had just begun to ebb, swelled again. “I can’t even relax in my own bed.”

  The black stallion in the farthest stall whinnied as he dug a hoof at the ground.

  “It’s okay, Danger. She’s too afraid of horses to come anywhere close to the barn.” Abe chuckled. He was safe here.

  Mitch slid him a curious glance. “Would you be sittin’ around in that big ol’ house right now?”

  “If I wanted to, I couldn’t,” he said.

  Mitch broke into laughter. Abe snorted. The situation wasn’t the slightest bit funny. He finished off his beer. He was done for the night. He had to get up early in the morning, and the last thing he needed was a hangover on top of his troubles. His mare Sally came to the edge of her stall and neighed softly, tapping her foot. Abe laughed. “Don’t you start with me too, old girl.”

  Mitch pushed his hat back on his head and shrugged a broad shoulder. “In my family, Abe, we stick together. Dee is your family.”

  Abe bit back a scowl. His idea of family wasn’t a woman who weaseled her way into his property. “She’s not family. She was engaged to my brother. That doesn’t make her blood thicker than water, my friend.”

  He’d only briefly discussed Dee with Mitch. A man didn’t need to air his troubles to everyone, not even good friends.

  Mitch shook his head and said, “That sounded a lot like bitterness, pal. She didn’t betray Jacob, did she?”

  Abe narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask that?”

  Mitch shrugged. “Somethin’s ruffled your feathers.”

  Abe leaned his back against the rough wood and thought back five years. “No, she didn’t betray him,” he answered softly. “But two months don’t make her family.” He held up two fingers. “Two. Anyway, whose side are you on?”

  “Yours, partner. Or,” there was a long pause, “maybe not.”

  Abe raised his head. “What?” He stared at Mitch, who froze with his bottle caught in midair and eyes rounded. “What’s wrong with you?” Abe followed Mitch’s stare to the open barn door.

  Dee stood in the doorway, her fists planted on her hips, her lips pursed accusingly.

  “Oh, shit,” Abe whispered.

  “Am I interrupting?” Dee took the first step across the threshold of his private zone.

  There went his space.

  “Hell yes.” Abe shook his head. He caught Mitch ogling Dee appreciatively and wanted to clock him in the jaw. “Can’t a man have a beer in peace?” he asked.

  “Are you expecting an answer?”

  “Not from you,” Abe grumbled.

  Abe restrained himself while Dee surveyed her surroundings with apparent interest. With her every step across the dirt floor, her boots shuffled and his heart thudded in rhythm. As far as he knew, this was the first time she’d ever set foot in the barn.

  He’d asked her to go riding once, and she’d turned him down without a second’s hesitation. Something about a childhood accident with a pony.

  “Wow, it’s clean in here,” Dee said. “Actually, downright immaculate.” She ran her finger along the sharp tines of a pitchfork hanging from the wall. “Aren’t barns supposed to smell like manure?”

  Abe scoffed and rolled his eyes upward. Heaven help him. He caught the quirk at one corner of Mitch’s mouth.

  The barn cat ambled up to Dee and wriggled against her ankle. She looked down at the fat tabby, which stared up at her with bright green eyes as if asking, Will you pet me?