"Get in."
She obeyed, sliding across the seat until she was on the passenger side. Webb got in beside her, folding his long legs beneath the steering wheel and pulling the door shut.
Every time the sign blinked, she could see the iron set of his jaw. In the enclosed cab she could smell the fresh, hard odor of the tequila he'd been drinking. He sat silently, staring out the windshield. Hugging her arms against the chill, she too was silent.
"Well?" he snapped after a long moment when it became evident she wasn't exactly rushing into speech.
She thought of all the things she could say, all the excuses and apologies, all the reasons why Lucinda had sent her, but everything boiled down into two simple words, and she said, "Come home."
He gave a harsh crack of laughter and turned so that his shoulders were comfortably wedged against the door and the seat.
"I am home, or near enough."
Roanna was silent again, as she often was. The stronger her feelings, the more silent she became, as if her inner shell tightened against any outbreak that would leave her vulnerable. His nearness, just hearing his voice again, made her feel as if she would shatter inside. She wasn't even able to return his gaze. Instead she looked down at her lap, fighting to control her shivering.
He muttered a curse, then shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. The motor caught immediately and settled into a powerful, well-tuned hum. He pushed the temperature control lever all the way over into the heat zone, then twisted his torso to reach behind the seat. He pulled out a denim jacket and tossed it into her lap.
"Put that around you before you turn blue."
The jacket smelled of dust and sweat and horses and ineffably of Webb. Roanna wanted to bury her face in the fabric; instead she pulled it around her shoulders, grateful for the protection.
Chapter 7
"How did you find me?" he finally asked.
"Did Mother tell you?"
She shook her head.
"Aunt Sandra?"
She shook her head again.
"Damn it, I'm not in the mood for guessing games," he snapped.
"Either talk or get out of the truck."
Roanna's hands tightened on the edges of the jacket.
"Lucinda hired a private detective to find you. Then she sent me out here." She could feel his hostility radiating from him, a palpable force that seared her skin. She'd known she didn't have much chance of convincing him to return, but she hadn't realized how violently he disliked her now. Her stomach twisted sickeningly, and her chest felt hollow, as if her heart no longer lived there.
"So you didn't come on your own?" he asked sharply.
"No."
Unexpectedly he reached out and caught her jaw, his fingers biting into the softness of her skin as he wrenched her head around. A purr of soft menace entered his voice.
"Look at me when you're talking to me."
Helplessly she did so, her eyes eating him, tracing every beloved outline and committing it to memory. This might be the last time she ever saw him, and when he sent her away, another piece of her would die.
"What does she want?" he asked, still holding her face in his grip. His big hand covered her jaw from ear to ear.
"If she simply missed my smiling face, she wouldn't have waited ten years to find me. So what is it she wants from me?"
His bitterness was deeper than she'd expected, his anger still as hot as it had been the day he'd walked out of their lives. She should have known, though, and Lucinda should have, too. They'd always been aware of the force of his character; that was why, when he'd been only fourteen, Lucinda had picked him as her heir and the custodian of Davencourt. Their betrayal of him had been like pulling a tiger's tail, and now they had to face his fangs and claws.
"She wants you to come home and take over again."
"Sure she does. The good people of Colbert County
wouldn't dirty themselves by doing business with an accused murderer."
"Yes, they would. With Davencourt and everything else belonging to you, they'd have to, or lose a lot of their own income."
He gave a harsh bark of laughter.
"My God, she must really want me back if she's willing to buy me! I know she's changed her will, presumably in your favor. What's gone wrong? Has she made a few bad decisions, and now she needs me to pull the family's financial ass out of the fire?"
Her fingers ached to reach out and smooth away the anger that lined his forehead, but she restrained herself, and the effort it cost her was reflected in her voice.
"She wants you to come home because she loves you and regrets what happened. She needs you to come home because she's dying. She has cancer."
He glared at her in the darkness.. then abruptly released her jaw and turned his head away. After a moment he said, "God damn it," and viciously slammed his fist against the steering wheel.
"She's always been good at manipulating people. God knows, Jessie came by it honestly."
"Then you'll come?" Roanna. asked hesitantly, unable to believe that was what he meant.
Instead of answering, he turned back to her and caught her face in his hand again. He leaned closer, so close she could see the glitter of his eyes and smell the alcohol on his breath. Dismayed, she abruptly realized he wasn't exactly sober. She should have known, she'd watched him drinking, but she just hadn't thought' What about you?" he demanded, his voice low and hard.
"All I've heard is what Lucinda wants. What do you want? Do you want me to come home, little-Roanna-all grown-up? How did she get you to do her dirty work for her, knowing that you'll lose a lot of money and property if you succeed?" He paused.