Blue Skies, Season 2, Episode 8 (Rising Storm) Read online

  If only she had been able to fall in love with him. It would be a heck of a lot easier than having fallen for a man who wasn’t even going to stay in town. But still, just the thought of Ian Briggs sent heat coursing through her. The man made her want things she hadn’t thought about since before her parents died. And that had been a long, long time.

  It wasn’t as if they’d done anything about it. A lot of flirting, but no dates and no talk of anything that might suggest there was a relationship in the offing. And Marisol understood why. Ian’s life was in Montana. He clearly cared about Marcus, but that didn’t mean he was going to pull up stakes and move here. And Marisol’s life was completely and irrevocably in Storm. She had Luis and Ginny, and, soon enough, the baby to take care of.

  Her family just kept growing and they needed her. That much of her protestation to Patrick Murphy had been true. She didn’t have time for a relationship. So maybe it was just as well that Ian was only passing through.

  Still, a wicked part of her mind whispered, while he was here...

  She shook her head, grabbed a tray full of cookies, and walked out of the kitchen and into the main part of her bakery, Cuppa Joe. Best to quit thinking about what could never be and concentrate on what mattered. Her business and her family.

  As if to contradict that pledge, Ian Briggs’ deep laugh echoed through the room. He was sitting at a table in the corner with Marcus, their two dark heads bent together as Ian recounted some story or another. Just seeing him in her bakery had her shivering with need.

  He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and damned if he didn’t wink. Almost as if he knew what she was thinking. Color stained her cheeks and she bent to place cookies inside the case, trying to ignore the fact that she was now flushed from head to toe. Damn the man. Clearly, she needed to get out more.

  “Marisol,” a soft voice called, interrupting her cascading thoughts. “When you get a chance, can we get another hit of coffee?”

  Anna Mae Prager sat at the table closest to the counter, Chase Johnson next to her, their fingers intertwined. Talk about desire. It was thick enough to cut between the two of them. Never mind that they were both old enough to…Marisol cut off the thought. There wasn’t such a thing as being too old. Hope was eternal and all that.

  Marisol grabbed a pot and rounded the counter, swiftly filling their cups. Anna Mae was beaming. “You’ll never guess what happened,” she gushed, a smile breaking across her face.

  Chase was grinning, too.

  “Maybe not, but I’m hoping you’ll tell me.” At least it looked like it was good news. There’d been enough bad stuff happening in Storm lately to last a lifetime. It would be nice to have something to smile about.

  Anna Mae stuck out her hand, a large pear-shaped diamond winking in the light. “Chase proposed. To me.”

  “Well, now, darlin’, there’s never been anyone else.” The man of the moment grinned.

  Anna Mae snorted. “Like I believe that.”

  Chase had the good sense to look embarrassed. “Okay, well, what I meant was that there’s never been anyone else I’ve wanted to spend my life with.” He frowned. “At least what there is left of it.”

  “Now, Chase, we agreed, we live for today. No worries about what tomorrow brings.” Anna Mae’s smile filled the room as she looked back to Marisol. “Can you believe it? We’re getting married.”

  “I can’t think of two more deserving people.” Marisol grinned back at them, a tiny sliver of sadness piercing her heart. What if she never found this kind of joy?

  “Did I hear you say you’re getting hitched?” Ian asked, strolling over to the table as Marcus headed for the door.

  “As soon as I can get her to the church,” Chase said. “About time she made an honest man of me.”

  “I’d say this calls for a celebration. How about some of those cheese kolaches?” Ian tilted his head in the direction of the pastry case. “Marisol makes the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “It’s a lovely idea,” Anna Mae said, coloring prettily as Chase grabbed her hand again. “But we’ve got to go. I need to tell my sister before the town crier announces it from the rooftops.”

  “In that case you’d better hurry,” Marisol laughed. “Hedda Garten was in here when you told me, and she’s already out the door and probably on the telephone spreading the news.”

  “Hedda never could hold on to a secret.” Chase pushed back his chair and helped Anna Mae up. “We’ll take a rain check on the kolaches.”

  “Absolutely,” Marisol said. “And congratulations.”

  She watched as the two of them walked out of the shop, feeling Ian’s heat beside her. He was big and tall, the kind of man who’d make a woman feel protected.

  He’d led a hard life. Marcus had told her a little about his past. He’d lost a son. Murdered. And then he’d killed the man who’d done it. Not that Marisol blamed him. She’d have done the same if anyone had dared to hurt Luis or Ginny. In fact, she’d had many a fantasy about what she’d like to do to Senator Rush. Payback for being such a grade-A bastard.

  Of course, she didn’t actually have the cojones to see it through, but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand Ian’s reasons.

  “You still want that kolache?” she asked, trying not to sound too desperate. Truth was, she didn’t want him to leave. Ever, if she were being truly honest.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said. “Especially if you’ll join me. Turns out I’ve got a little something to celebrate, too.”

  “Well, that’s intriguing. Give me a second.” She stepped behind the counter, grabbed a couple of kolaches and some more coffee. Then after a word with Delia Bruce, who was helping out until she found a full-time job, Marisol crossed back over to Ian’s table, setting the plate and cups down as she slid into a seat. “So what’s happened?”

  Ian smiled, his eyes dark and full of something Marisol wasn’t sure she wanted to put a name to. “I’m now the proud owner of a hundred and ten acres of prime grazing land about fifteen miles south of here.”

  “You’re kidding. I knew you were looking for a place for Marcus, but to be honest, with the Johnsons’ hold on everything to do with cattle around here, I figured it was a lost cause.”

  “Well, now, you see, I’m not the kind of man to give up without a fight.” He paused, his gaze devouring her. “Especially when it’s something I truly want.”

  Marisol swallowed too fast and almost choked on her coffee. Whoever decided cowboys had the power to make a girl swoon definitely had the right idea about things. At least when it came to Ian Briggs. “I see.” She didn’t. Not really. But she found herself wanting him to tell her.

  “Zeke Johnson and I had a little talk and a meeting of the minds, you might say. And now Marcus and I have a chance to make a go of it here in Texas.”

  “Marcus and you…” She was sounding like a schoolgirl. Limited to repeating whatever he had to say. And to make matters worse, she’d managed to shred one of the kolaches.

  “Marcus,” he repeated, a slow, sexy smile tilting his lips. “And me. Me being the relevant part of this conversation. Me—and you, that is.”

  Marisol felt a shiver of something work its way down her spine. “Me and you.” Lord, she was still repeating.

  “I’m hoping maybe we can have dinner tonight to celebrate?” he asked, his eyes full of laughter and something else. Something hotter. Something full of promise.

  “Dinner would be great.” Amazing. Fabulous. Wonderful. Her stomach actually clenched with excitement.

  “It’s a date then.” He leaned over and before she even had time to think about it, brushed his lips against hers. She closed her eyes, relishing his touch.

  “Marisol Moreno, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

  Marisol sprang back, opening her eyes, coloring with guilt. Standing just across from her was her little brother Luis and his girlfriend Mallory, his eyes dancing with laughter.

  “Kinda feels nice to have the shoe on the
other foot.” His grin turned mischievous.

  “You show some respect for your sister, Luis,” Ian admonished, not looking the slightest bit embarrassed for having been caught kissing in front of her brother.

  “Oh, I have nothing but respect, Mr. Briggs. And if I’m honest, I’m totally psyched. It’s about time Marisol let herself be happy. She’s been way too busy trying to take care of me and my sister. Thinks she doesn’t deserve her own life. But we know better, right?”

  Marisol looked from a grinning Luis to Ian, who was clearly gloating. Mallory, who was standing behind Luis, waggled her eyebrows at Marisol and mouthed one word. “Men.”

  “It’s Ian,” Ian was saying to Luis as he motioned to the table’s empty chairs. “Your sister was just helping me celebrate. Join us.”

  Marisol jumped up to get sodas for her brother and Mallory, her head swimming and her body still reacting to what had merely been a simple kiss. That and the fact that he’d asked her to dinner.

  Of course, he was still leaving.

  But now that he’d bought land in Texas, surely that meant he’d at least be visiting now and then. The relevant question being whether or not that was enough.

  Truth be told, it wasn’t.

  But then maybe she’d be smart to just take what she could get. After all, a girl didn’t have the chance to spend time with a man like Ian every day. A little bit was better than nothing. Right?

  Her earlier joy evaporated as reality set in. Ian was the kind of man she could so easily lose her heart to. And anything he felt—well, it had to be temporary, didn’t it? He knew she wasn’t going to leave Storm. And she knew that eventually he’d be heading back to Montana.

  Which left her where exactly?

  Flirting with disaster.

  Chapter 2

  Sebastian Rush walked out of his office, wondering how the hell it had all come to this. He and Payton had an agreement, damn it. And it hadn’t included walking out on him and taking his kids. His numbers had dipped five points in the polls. Thank God he’d already been reelected. Still, he didn’t need this kind of pressure.

  What he needed was some good news. Something that would cast him in a more positive light. His mother was always harping on spinning everything. Surely this could be spun as well. He shook his head, smiling at a group of passing ladies who averted their eyes as if he was a leper. When the hell had a man’s sexual proclivities been questioned so stridently? JFK had had mistresses. Nobody gave a good goddamn. Hell, when Marilyn Monroe sang happy birthday to the man, it was positive press.

  Of course, Marilyn hadn’t been college aged. Or had she? Sebastian frowned and then immediately forced himself to relax his face muscles. The camera added years; no point in helping it along.

  In just a few days he was heading back to Austin.

  Alone.

  Not that that wasn’t normal. No, what wasn’t normal was that there’d be no family waiting for him at home. No one to trot out in front of the journalists when family values were in play. Even as he had the thought, he knew it was too cold. Too calculating. He might have felt that way about his ice queen of a wife, but he loved his children.

  Didn’t he?

  Jeffry was a disappointment certainly. Even in today’s liberal atmosphere, surely Jeffry knew how his sexual orientation would play out in the media. Why in the world in the midst of all this scandal had he chosen now to come out of the damn closet?

  Maybe it was just a fad. That’s what his mother thought. Experimentation. The idea made Sebastian shudder. And if Jeffry’s predilections weren’t enough to deal with, there was Brittany’s infatuation with Marcus Alvarez. A deviant offender of the first order. Not the kind of man he wanted to inherit his kingdom. And besides how could he condone a relationship between his daughter and the brother of the woman who’d practically destroyed his career singlehandedly?

  At least the girl had fallen off the radar. A town pariah. No one was listening to her now. Although the damage was done. If he’d had his way, he would have destroyed her. But as usual his mother was right. The potential for fallout was too dangerous.

  God what a clusterfuck.

  What he needed was something to save the fucking day.

  As if some twisted deity somewhere had heard his plea, Ginny Moreno walked out of the pharmacy, her belly so swollen she almost waddled. And yet, Sebastian felt himself grow hard.

  He increased his pace, closing in behind her, relishing the chance to catch her off guard, a wild idea forming in his head. If his family had deserted him, maybe he’d just get a new one.

  “Hold on there a minute, Ginny.”

  She stopped, startled, eyes wide as she turned around to face him. “What do you want?”

  “To talk. We haven’t had a chance to talk lately.” He smiled, pouring on the charm. It’s what he excelled at after all. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “I’ll bet you have,” Ginny said, the words half mumbled.

  “About us, I mean.” He reached out to touch her elbow, and she jerked free, eyes flashing. He didn’t remember her being so self-assured. It excited him. With a little polish… He shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your space; I just was hoping maybe we could try to start over.”

  “Start over?” She actually looked puzzled. “And do what? Look, I don’t know what you’re angling for here. But I told you before, I don’t need your help and I’ve no interest in you being a part of this child’s life.”

  “I see you’ve grown tougher than you were when we were together.”

  “It isn’t like I had a choice.” She took a step backward, but he quickly closed the distance.

  “No, I suppose you didn’t. I admire that about you though. Most women would have caved in your situation. But not you. You’ve stood strong. I know that the Murphy kid abandoned you. Hell, I did too, at first. But now—”

  “There is no now,” Ginny said, her chin lifting up in defiance as he moved even closer, the back of a building keeping her from stepping farther back. “I want nothing to do with you. You’re just a perverted old man who gets off using young women.”

  He lifted his hand, wanting to slap her words away, but forced himself to close his fingers instead. If he hit her, it was all over. “Ginny, I understand why you’re angry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have abandoned you when the truth came out. But I’m trying to make amends for it now.”

  “By taking my baby?” She was clenching her fists, her breath coming in short pants. God, despite the fact that she was pregnant as hell, he still wanted her.

  “No. I shouldn’t have threatened you before.” In truth, he had no regrets, except that Payton had betrayed him and now he was forced to regroup. He forced a soothing smile. “I meant by taking care of both of you.”

  For a moment she just stared up at him, her soft breath fanning his face, and he started to smile in triumph. This was why he won elections. All he had to do was say the right words, give the right smile, and anything—anything was his.

  He reached out to touch her, but she jerked sideways, breaking free of him. Her eyes flashed as she narrowed them in determination. “Not a chance in hell, Senator Rush.”

  Anger sparked as he saw his chance for victory slipping away. The little bitch, how dare she reject him? He grabbed her arm, swinging her back to face him, not caring that they were standing on a public street. “You’re not walking away from me that easily, Ginny. You’re carrying my baby. Mine. And I don’t think it would take all that much for me to convince a judge to give me custody. I mean, what have you got to offer a child?” She might be the mother, but he was a senator. Hell, he was Sebastian Rush and that meant a hell of a lot more than any claim some little nobody like her might have on the kid.

  He shook her, his anger making him reckless. “I have everything. A name. Money. Power. And you—you have nothing. You’re a no-name little whore from the wrong side of the tracks in a backwater town. You’ll neve
r be a match for me. So you think about that. And then you think about whether you’d rather have me as a friend.” He tightened his hand on her arm as he ran a finger over the curve of one breast. “Or an enemy. It’s your choice, Ginny. So you think about it.”

  He held her gaze for a moment longer, satisfied to see a flicker of fear in her eyes, then let her go and turned and walked away.

  Stupid cunt. If she didn’t want to play nice, then she’d find out what happened when he played dirty.

  * * * *

  “It’s a little early for that, isn’t it, son?” Sonya Murphy walked into the bar from the back room, a tray of clean glasses in her hands. Dillon followed on her heels, a keg on his shoulder.

  Logan looked over the top of his beer at his mother and brother. Just what he needed, family interference. Of course, that was part and parcel for the Murphy clan. He knew because he’d gone halfway around the world to escape them, only to realize how damn much he missed their constant meddling once he was gone.

  “I’m just trying to sort out a few things.” Truth be told, he’d been trying to sort things out ever since he’d left Delia Bruce and her sage advice at her front gate. Hell, he’d have been better off if he’d never gone out with her at all. Damn Marcus and Brittany. Interfering friends were worse than family—almost.

  “Listen, bro, I don’t think you’re going to find answers in the bottom of a glass.”

  “Says the publican’s son.” Logan scowled at his brother who only laughed as he shoved the keg under the counter.

  “Pot calling kettle black,” Dillon returned. But at least his brother had the decency to fill a glass and sit down beside him. Logan’s mother, on the other hand, didn’t look too pleased with either of her sons.