“And how are you, Mariah? I haven’t asked.”
“Oh, my health is fine. And I’m enjoying the peace andquiet of an empty house. You’ve no need to worry on my account.”
“Good to know. I wish we could talk longer, but it’s getting noisy here by the pool. Call me if you get any news.”
Mariah hung up the landline phone in the kitchen. Jasmine was a dear—the closest thing to a daughter Mariah had ever known. She would be welcome in the house. But she was a free spirit who’d never be happy settling down on a Texas ranch. She’d most likely marry that FBI man and end up living in some big city.
Let her go, Mariah told herself as she cleared off the parlor coffee table and polished the glass surface. With Madeleine’s disappearance, Jasmine’s indifference, Frank’s murder, and now Darrin’s tragic death, there was nothing left of the family she’d served for half her life.
She’d come here as the bride of a ranch hand and found a place in the kitchen. When her husband had been killed and she’d lost the baby she was carrying, it was Madeleine and Frank who’d supported her, paid her expenses, and given her time off to recover. Their kindness had won her loyalty forever, even after their divorce.
But that wasn’t all.
Frank’s framed photo stood on the mantel. Even after his death, his smiling presence seemed to dominate the room. Mariah took the picture down and held it between her hands. Madeleine had shown her kindness after her husband’s death. But it was Frank, and his late-night visits to her room, who’d made her feel like a woman again.
If Madeleine had known about those visits, she’d had the grace to keep silent. As for Lila—she hadn’t known, of course, or Mariah would’ve been sent packing.
The trysts had grown less frequent with the years and finally ceased altogether. Mariah suspected that it was becauseher youth had faded. Even so, when Frank was killed, she had felt his loss as keenly as if she’d been widowed again.
Mariah replaced the photograph and surveyed the parlor with its comfortable leather furniture and stone fireplace. Through the archway lay the dining room with its great slab of a table and the kitchen, her true domain. This house had been her home for more than half her life. If things had gone differently, she might have been its mistress, with the designer clothes, the fancy cars, and the shared king-sized bed in the master suite upstairs. But that dream had never come true.
Now she faced the prospect of Lila, whom she barely tolerated, and the people she would invite in to share the place—not a Culhane in the lot of them.
The Culhanes had been family. Now her family was gone.
Jasmine tossed a towel over her bare legs. The afternoon sun was hot enough to burn—time to go back to her boring, air-conditioned room. But she was in no hurry. She could always enjoy a cold drink at the poolside bar.
The call to Mariah had left her unsettled. In a way, it would be a relief, not needing to attend Darrin’s funeral. But where was the closure? Where was the chance to say goodbye to her only brother? She’d never liked him much, but they’d shared some happy memories. And they’d supported each other through the crises of their parents’ divorce and the arrival of Lila. Now she felt strangely alone. She couldn’t depend on her mother or even on Sam.
“Excuse me, miss.” The male voice sounded relatively young. Maybe one of the pool boys. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to be Jasmine Culhane?”
Startled, she sat up and lifted the brim of her hat. Hewas standing in silhouette with his back to the blinding sun, a tall, lean figure wearing a cowboy hat. His hand reached toward her, holding a mojito. “The bartender told me you liked these,” he said. “I heard about your brother—so sorry for your loss. I’d spoken briefly with him on the phone and was looking forward to meeting him in person. Then I heard about that awful accident.”
Jasmine sat up and took the icy drink from him, pressing it to her hot cheek before taking a sip.
“Thanks. That tastes good,” she said, “Now, suppose you tell me who you are and why you just brought me a drink. If this is a pickup, you’re wasting your time. I’m already taken, and he packs a pistol.”
He moved a nearby deck chair to her side, sat down, and took off his hat. Out of the glare now, he appeared to be a little younger than she was and handsome like a very young John Wayne. His hair was dark, thick, and neatly trimmed, his jaw nicely squared.
As he shifted in the chair, giving her a glimpse of his profile, she felt an odd flash of recognition. She could’ve sworn that she’d never seen him before. But something about him was almost creepily familiar. But then, in her former profession, she’d met a lot of people. Maybe she’d signed an autograph for him back in the day.
She sipped the mojito, savoring the tangy chill as the liquid slid down her throat. He studied her with curious eyes. Jasmine was accustomed to being hit on by men, but she didn’t get that vibration from this attractive young cowboy. It was time she found out what he wanted.
She met his gaze over the frosted rim of her glass. “I believe I asked you to introduce yourself,” she said. “Speak up or leave.”
“Sorry. You must think I’m an idiot. It’s just that I’m overwhelmed, seeing my half sister for the first time.”
Jasmine’s first reaction was shock. Her second was suspicion. This cowboy had appeared out of nowhere with an unbelievable story. If he was lying, maybe trying to scam her out of some cash, he had a lesson to learn.
She set her emptied glass on a side table. “You really are an idiot if you think you can fool me. Who are you really?”
“My legal name is Hayden Barr,” he said. “If you’re following the events in the Run for a Million at South Point, I won the cutting challenge on Thursday. It was in the papers.”
“Unlike some members of my family, I don’t pay much attention to horse events. I had too much of that growing up. How did you know where to find me?”
“Your brother mentioned you were in town when we spoke on the phone. The rest was easy. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you for your sympathy,” Jasmine said. “But what I really want to know is what proof you have that we’re related. If you don’t have that proof, we’re finished here.”