Disclosure: The McCaffertys Page 3

  Straightening, Jamie accepted Nicole’s handshake. She glanced at Slade, and something dark shifted in her hazel eyes. Her smile became a little more forced, her voice more professional and cool. “Pleased to meet you. All of you.”

  “I take it you already know Slade?” Nicole said as she peeled Mindy from Slade’s leg and gathered the shy girl into her arms.

  “Yes...we’ve...we’ve met. Years ago.” Jamie’s voice was husky and she cleared her throat.

  Slade noticed that she inched her chin up a fraction as she turned to him and, gesturing to the girls, said, “You’ve been busy.”

  He lifted one eyebrow.

  “Your daughters...they’re lovely,” she added.

  “Why thank you,” he drawled, smothering a smile at her discomfiture—now what was that all about? “But they’re not mine.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I was married before,” Nicole explained. “I just recently joined this family.”

  “I see.”

  Nicole laughed as she finally caught on. “Oh. No. No! It’s not what you think. Slade’s my brother-in-law. I’m married to Thorne.”

  “Poor woman,” Slade drawled, and Nicole sent him a dirty look. He witnessed a blush steal up Jamie’s neck. He remembered that. How easily her fair skin would color a soft, embarrassed pink.

  “Oh. Well. My mistake.” Was she relieved? “There wasn’t any reference to wives in the documents.”

  “That will have to be changed.” Nicole chuckled and stepped out of the doorway as a black-and-white-spotted cat darted up the stairs. “Come in. It’s freezing out there. Let me take your coat, and Slade—if he has a gentlemanly bone in his body, which is highly unlikely in my opinion—can show you into the dining room where the rest of the clan is waiting.”

  “I can manage that,” Slade allowed.

  “I hope so.” Nicole transferred a squirming Mindy to the floor. “Meanwhile, I’ll see if Juanita can scrounge up some coffee or tea.”

  Jamie was working the buttons of her coat. “That would be great.”

  “I’ll take that,” Slade offered as Nicole headed toward the kitchen, her daughters trailing after her like ducklings behind a mother duck.

  Jamie set her bags down and shrugged out of her overcoat with Slade’s help. His fingers brushed her nape for the briefest of seconds and he thought she stiffened, but he might have imagined it. She probably barely remembered him.

  All business in a black suit and shimmery blouse, she picked up her bags again. “Ready?” she asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.” He showed her along the hallway to the dining room. They passed by what he referred to as the McCafferty Hall of Shame where photos of the family were mounted. With cool disinterest Jamie’s eyes skimmed pictures of Thorne in his football uniform, Randi going to the prom, Matt on a bucking bronco and Slade skiing downhill as if the devil were on his tail. Jamie didn’t react, just walked smartly into the dining room.

  “Hi,” she said. “You all probably know this, but I figured I’d better get the formal introductions over. I’m Jamie Parsons with Jansen, Monteith and Stone.” Thorne had some trouble scrambling to his feet as one of his legs was in a brace, but Matt reached forward to shake her hand. Slade made quick introductions. “All right,” she said, offering them each a smile that Slade was certain she’d practiced a thousand times in front of a mirror, “let’s get started.”

  Everyone settled into a chair. Jamie flipped open her briefcase and distributed copies of legal documents. “The way I understand it is that Matt—” she pinned the middle McCafferty brother in her gaze “—wants to sell his place north of Missoula on contract to Michael Kavanaugh, his neighbor. He then wants to buy the two of you—” she motioned to Slade and Thorne “—out, so that he’ll own half of this place and, Randi, you’ll own the other half.”

  “That’s right,” Matt confirmed.

  “Matt’s agreed to run the ranch,” Randi contributed. “Then he...well, he and Kelly, since they’re going to be married soon...can live here.”

  “What about you?” Thorne asked, his brows beetling.

  Randi shook her head and flipped a palm toward the ceiling. “I do have a life in Seattle, you know.”

  Thorne’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, I do know. But until we’re certain you’re safe, I don’t want you going anywhere. Not until we figure out who’s been trying to kill you and he’s safely behind bars.”

  With a smile that dared her oldest brother to try to tell her what to do, she arched a dark brow. “I’m not arguing about it now, okay? I think Ms. Parsons has business here and she’d like to get down to it.”

  “Jamie. Let’s keep this casual.”

  Slade stiffened.

  “We’re all from around here, so there’s no reason to be formal,” Jamie said coolly. “Okay, you’ve all got a copy of the paperwork, so let’s go over it.”

  Slade tried not to notice the slope of her jaw, or the way she flashed a smile or how her eyebrows knitted in concentration as she read through the documents. What had happened between them was ancient history. Ancient.

  Besides, he didn’t like lawyers. Any of ’em. He reached into his shirt pocket, his fingers searching for a nonexistent pack of cigarettes. He was trying to cut down and had left his smokes in his truck. Not that anyone would let him light up in here anyway.

  Nicole brought in a tray of coffee, tea and cinnamon cookies, but Jamie seemed to barely notice. The baby started to fuss and she glanced at J.R. for just a second, her eyes turning wistful for the barest of moments before she became all business again.

  Apologizing in Spanish and English, Juanita bustled in. Dark eyes flashed with pride as she fixated on the baby. “Dios, little man, you are a loud one.” Expertly she plucked the infant from Randi’s arms. “He is hungry, sí?”

  “Big time,” Randi said, starting to climb to her feet.

  “Sit, sit...you have business.” Juanita waved Randi back into her chair. “I’ll see to him.” Before Randi could protest, Juanita turned on her heel and, cradling the baby close, swept out of the room.

  Jamie barely broke stride. “Let’s look at page two...”

  A professional attorney through and through, Slade thought, staring at her. Where was the wild, rebellious girl he remembered? The one who had turned his head and made him, for a few weeks, question what he wanted? The girl in tattered jeans who had, behind her grandmother’s back, drunk, smoked and gone to a tattoo parlor, only to be kicked out before the deed was done as she was underage? If Slade’s recollection was right, Jamie had planned to have a small butterfly etched into one smooth shoulder.

  Glancing at the thick sheaf of neatly typed pages in front of him Slade wondered if Jamie, once she’d finally turned eighteen, had ever gone back for the body art? Or had her transformation into this all-business woman already begun? Who was she these days? Just another corporate attorney with her hair pulled harshly away from her face, her nails polished, her smile forced? Where was the free spirit who had attracted him so many years ago? Where was the rebellious creature who could spit as well as any boy, swear a blue streak and ride bareback under the stars without a second’s hesitation? He watched her through eyes at half-mast and hardly caught a glimmer of the girl she’d once been. For today, at least, she was all business—an automaton spewing legal jargon.

  Every once in a while one of the brothers or Randi asked a question. Jamie always had an answer.

  “I’ll want to put my fiancée’s name on the deed,” Matt said, his dark eyes thoughtful.

  “So you’re getting married.” Jamie scribbled a quick note on her copy of the documents. “When?”

  “Between Christmas and New Year’s. I tried to talk her into eloping, but her family had a fit. As it is, it’s pretty short notice.”

  Jamie lifted an arched brow. “So another McCafferty bachelor bites the dust.”

  “Ouch,” Thorne said, but one side of his mouth curved upward. “That just leaves Slade.”

  For a s
econd the Ice Woman seemed to melt. Her hazel eyes found his. A dozen questions lurked therein. “I thought you were married.”

  “Never,” he replied. Seated low on his spine, sipping coffee, he stared straight into those incredible eyes.

  “But...I mean...” She seemed confused, then quickly shoved whatever she was thinking out of her mind and pulled her corporate self together. “Not that it matters. So...” She swung her head toward Matt who was seated at the head of the table near the china closet. “What’s your fiancée’s name?”

  “Kelly Dillinger, but it will be McCafferty by the end of the month.”

  “She’s the daughter of Eva Dillinger, who was our father’s secretary.” Thorne’s mouth turned down and Slade’s stomach twisted at the thought of his old man. He missed him, true, but the guy had been a number-one bastard most of Slade’s life. “The deal is this. Dad reneged on paying Eva the retirement that he’d promised her and so we—” he motioned to include his brothers and sister “—through the trust, decided to make it good. Your firm handles the disbursements.”

  Jamie gave a quick nod as if she suddenly remembered. “I’ve got the papers on the trust with me,” she said, riffling through her briefcase and withdrawing another thick file.

  “Good.” Thorne nodded.

  “But Kelly’s name needs to be on the deed to the ranch,” Matt insisted.

  “Duly noted.” Jamie penned a reminder on the first page of the contract allowing Matt to buy out his brothers. “I’ll see that she’s included in the final draft, then she’ll have to sign, along with the rest of you, and Mr. Kavanaugh. I’ll leave you each a copy of what I’ve drawn up and you can peruse everything more closely. If you all agree, I’ll print out final copies and we’ll sign.”

  “Sounds good.” Matt picked up his set of papers as Jamie straightened her pile and thumped it on the table. With a well-practiced smile that didn’t light her eyes, she glanced at each McCafferty sibling before sliding all the documents into her briefcase.

  So rehearsed, so professional, so un–Jamie Parsons. At least the Jamie he remembered. As he observed her, Slade wondered what it would take to catch a glimpse of the girl hiding beneath the neatly pressed jacket and skirt.

  “So...Matt, you and your wife will be living on the property... Thorne and Nicole are building nearby and Randi will eventually move back to Seattle. I’ve got all your addresses except Slade’s.” She stared straight at him. “Where do you call home these days?”

  “I’ve got a place in Colorado, outside of Boulder, but...I haven’t decided if I’ll stay there or sell it. In the meantime, I’m here, so you can use the address of the Flying M.”

  “Fair enough.” She glanced again from one McCafferty sibling to the next. “Anything else?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Thorne glanced at his sister. “We’ve got a little situation and I’d like some advice on it. As you know, Randi, here, had a baby a couple of months back and the father hasn’t stepped forward and made any claim of custody yet, but—”

  “Hey!” Randi shot out of her chair and skewered her brother with a don’t-even-go-there glare. “Let’s not get into this. Not now.”

  “We have to, Randi.” Thorne was serious. “Sooner or later J.R.’s dad is gonna show up. I’ll bet on it. And he’s gonna start talking about custody and his rights as a father and I’d like to know what we’re up against.”

  “This is my problem, Thorne,” Randi said, leaning over the table. Pushing her face as close to her oldest brother’s as was possible, she hooked a thumb at her chest. “Mine. Okay? Not yours. Not Matt’s. Not Slade’s. And certainly not Jansen, Monteith and Stone’s!” Her eyes snapped fire, her cheeks flushed and she glared at Thorne for a long moment. No one said a word. Finally, Randi swung her gaze toward Jamie. “No offense, okay, but I can handle this. My brothers are just mad because I haven’t told them who the baby’s father is. Not that it’s any of their business.”

  “There’s a reason for that,” Slade reminded her. “Someone’s trying to kill you.”

  “Again, it’s nobody’s business.”

  “Like hell.” Slade glowered at his sister. Sometimes Randi could be so bullheaded she was just plain stupid. “Your safety is our business.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “You can’t even remember what happened!” Slade countered, disgusted with his half sibling. “At least that’s what you claim.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Okay, fine, then help us out. We’re just trying to keep you safe. To keep J.R., or whatever the hell you call him, safe, okay? So quit being so damned bristly and give us a clue or two! Who’s the kid’s dad?”

  “This isn’t the time or place,” she warned, every muscle tightening.

  Thorne held up a hand as if to somehow quiet Slade. “We’re just trying to help.”

  “Back off, Thorne. I said I can handle it. He’s my baby and I would never, never do anything to put him in jeopardy, for God’s sake. Now, I agreed to stay here for a while, until this whole mess is cleared up, but that doesn’t mean my life is going to stop, so just back off!”

  Matt shook his head and stared out the window.

  “Women,” Slade growled, and Jamie’s spine stiffened.

  Instead of snapping back at his remark, she visibly shifted, as if deciding it was her job to defuse the argument rather than aggravate it. “Custody rights aren’t my area of expertise, but, if you decide you do want some legal advice, I can hook you up with Felicia Reynolds. She handles all the custody cases for the firm.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I’ll contact her.” Randi shot Thorne another warning glare before dropping into her chair. “Maybe.”

  Jamie snapped her briefcase closed. “Let me know if you want to get in touch with her.”

  “I will,” Randi said, firing Thorne a look meant to not only kill but to eviscerate, as well.

  “Okay.” It was Jamie’s turn to stand. “If any of you has any questions, you can call me through my cell phone, as I don’t have a phone number here in town yet, or you can leave a message with the office and they’ll get in touch with me. I’m staying at my grandmother’s place and as soon as the regular phone is hooked up, I’ll let you know.”

  The meeting was over.

  Everyone shook hands.

  All business.

  Somehow it galled the hell out of Slade, but he found her coat and helped her into it.

  Without a backward glance, she walked out the door, her black coat billowing behind her, her briefcase swinging from one gloved hand. Slade hesitated, couldn’t help but watch as she climbed into her car and drove away, tires spinning in the snow.

  “Randi’s right. You did date her,” Matt said as Slade closed the door and, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, strolled back to the living room where his brothers were waiting. Matt knelt at the fire, prodding the blackened log with a poker while Thorne rummaged in the old man’s liquor cabinet.

  “I saw her a few times,” Slade admitted, leaning one hip on the windowsill. This conversation was getting them nowhere and he didn’t want to discuss it. Seeing Jamie again had brought back a tidal wave of memories that he’d dammed up a long, long time ago.

  “Oh, come on, Slade. You saw her more than a few times.” Randi hobbled into the room, then fell onto the leather couch. “Let’s see,” she said, her features pinching as she tried to recall images from the past. Slade sensed he wasn’t going to like what was coming next and he braced himself. “The way I remember it, you dated Jamie for a couple of months while you were broken up with Sue Ellen Tisdale, right?”

  “I remember you with Sue Ellen,” Thorne added.

  Great. Just what he needed: his family dissecting his love life.

  “But,” Randi added, “once Sue Ellen came to her senses and came running back, you dropped Jamie like a hot potato. I thought you were going to marry Sue Ellen.”

  Slade snorted; didn’t comment.

  Thorne pulled out a bottle
of Scotch. “So did I.”

  “Everyone did.” Randi wasn’t about to let up. “Probably even Jamie.”

  “Again, your memory amazes me,” Slade commented.

  “As I said, ‘bits and pieces.’”

  “Is that right?” Matt prodded the fire with a poker. “You really tossed Jamie over for Sue Ellen Tisdale?” His tone implied that Slade was a first-class idiot.

  “That’s not exactly what happened. Besides, it was years ago.”

  “Doesn’t matter when it happened.” Randi rested one heel on the coffee table. “Face it, Slade,” she said as the fire began to crackle, “whether you want to admit it or not, about fifteen years ago, you were the son of a bitch who broke Jamie Parsons’s heart.”

  Chapter 3

  “Well, that went swimmingly,” Jamie rumbled under her breath as she carried her briefcase and a sack of groceries into her grandmother’s house. Driving into town from the Flying M she’d second-guessed herself and cursed C. William “Chuck” Jansen a dozen times over for assigning her to the McCafferty project.

  “Since you’re heading to Grand Hope anyway, I thought you could help the firm out,” Chuck had said as he’d sat familiarly on the corner of the desk in her office, one leg swinging, his wing-tip gleaming in the soft lighting. His boyish smile had been wide, his suit expensive, his shirt, as always, starched and crisply pressed. He’d tugged at his Yves St. Laurent tie. “I think it would be a good idea to put a face on Jansen, Monteith and Stone for the McCafferty family. John Randall McCafferty was an excellent client of the firm and the partners would like to keep the McCaffertys’ business. Maybe even get a little more. Thorne McCafferty is a millionaire several times over in his own right, and the second son, Matt—he owns his own place. He’s basically a small-time rancher, but he also seems to have some of that McCafferty-Midas touch. The third son...”

  Jamie recalled how Chuck’s brows had knit and his lips had folded together thoughtfully while she had conjured up a few unwelcome memories of Slade and nearly snapped her pen in two. “Well, there’s always one in the family, I suppose. The third son, Slade—he never amounted to much. Lots of potential, but couldn’t get it together. Too busy raising hell. He drove race cars and rode rodeo and even led expeditions for extreme skiing, I think. Always on the edge, but never getting his life together.