Laurie Paige – The Baby Pursuit (страница 2)
Her eyes were as green as the grass he stood on. Her hair was tousled and as fiery as a Texas sunset. She was the promise of everything he’d ever wanted from life. Longing and lust raced through him in equal parts.
“My daughter, Vanessa,” Fortune said. “This is the FBI agent we’ve been expecting.”
“Devin Kincaid,” Dev added. He held out his hand.
Her grip was firm, her fingers slender and warm in his. Though he couldn’t see it, he was certain an arc traveled from the point where their palms connected all the way up his arm and down his chest to join forces with the primitive hunger she aroused.
Her eyes locked with his as an emotion flitted over her face too fast for him to read. She smiled briefly—as if in acknowledgment of the attraction, lust, whatever, between them?—her eyes never leaving his.
Devin dropped her hand as if it were the proverbial hot potato. He had studied pictures of the Fortune clan, but nothing had done justice to the vibrant life he sensed in this slender, shapely young woman. Her entire aura was one of subtle intelligence and willful spirit.
The youngest child—along with her identical twin Victoria—of a very rich man, Vanessa Fortune was twenty-five years old, a dabbler in psychology who had once helped the local police nab a serial killer. One lucky break, Dev mused, and she probably considered herself an expert on the criminal mind.
She was also twelve years younger than he was and as bright and shiny as a new penny. And as tempting to pick up and slip into his pocket. Ha. The Fortune heiress would be a pretty penny, indeed, for someone like him.
“It’s a hundred and two degrees in the shade,” the daughter informed them. “Let’s go inside.”
Dev followed her into the hacienda when her father gestured politely for him to precede him. He was aware of the other man’s eyes on his back and had a feeling the father had correctly read his reaction to the daughter.
He wasn’t here to get involved with a redheaded siren, he reminded himself sternly. Getting seriously entangled with any woman wasn’t part of his future. Period.
The wrought-iron gate, wide-open in a friendly welcome, and tan adobe walls that had once protected the family from intruders gave way to a small courtyard that had been transformed into a garden of paloverdes and native plants. Various-size stones had been used to effect a dry creek. A curving walk led to the steps to a massive wooden door with black iron hinges of conquistador design.
Inside was a typical great room and, beyond, an inner courtyard where the family would have entertained friends and often taken their evening meal in days of old. The courtyard, too, was an inviting expanse of trees and flowers, as well as a fountain and an overhead trellis covered with flowering vines. Under the trellis sat a cozy arrangement of chairs and an old-fashioned yard swing.
Crossing the great room, a dining room was visible to the left through a tall archway. Its glass-paned doors were closed. He surveyed the stucco walls and beamed ceilings. The house looked solid, stable… A good place to raise a family.
The wings on either side of the original hacienda had been constructed for the two sons of Kingston Fortune. However, Devin knew that Cameron, the oldest son, had built his own place near the main house after his marriage. His widow, Mary Ellen, still lived there. Ryan Fortune had stayed on in the main house. Dev wasn’t sure where the ranch workers lived. But he would find out.
Just as he’d find out all the secrets of the Fortune clan and who would take the baby grandson and why. He had already concluded there was more than one person involved and that it was an inside job in spite of the many guests who had been present at the child’s christening party. The grab had been too smooth, too easily carried out under the noses of the collective family members and their long-time friends and neighbors for an unknown trespasser to achieve.
“Iced tea?” the daughter asked.
At his nod, she used an intercom to relay the order—phrased as a request—to the kitchen and the many servants he knew worked there. The size of the ranch and its numerous employees might make his job a little tougher than usual, but not impossible. Criminals always made a mistake. There was always a weak link or an unplanned incident—
“Please, have a seat,” Ryan Fortune invited.
Devin chose a leather chair at right angles to the matching sofa. From this angle, he could observe the entrance and the inner courtyard. He noticed a maid leave one room and enter another. She pushed a trolley much like those used in hotels. Another maid entered the great room, a tray in her hand. She served him first, then Ryan Fortune, who indicated the daughter should be next. Devin stored that bit of information away under “protocol of the rich.”
The tea looked refreshingly cold. A sprig of mint and an orange slice decorated the rim of the glass. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to remove the mint and orange slice and put them in the saucer that came with the tea or just drink from the other side of the glass.
He picked up the glass and waited to see what his host and hostess did. They ignored the refreshment, each watching him as if waiting for a brilliant deduction, Sherlock Holmes style, on the kidnapping. Feeling distinctly foolish, he sipped the flavored tea, then replaced the glass on the saucer which, he noticed, matched the leaf design of the three glasses.
“How many men do you have working with you?” Vanessa Fortune demanded, perching on the arm of the sofa closest to her father, who had taken the chair that faced Devin across the coffee table.
He snatched a number from thin air. “Twenty thousand.”
Dev didn’t know why he’d chosen a smart-ass answer, other than the fact that Vanessa Fortune got his dander up. Among other things.
“I didn’t mean the entire force of the FBI,” she said, not taking offense. “How many from the district office came with you and how many from the local office are assigned to the case?”
“I’m it,” he announced, checking both father and daughter to see how they took this news.
“One man?” she questioned.
Her lips tightened. The bottom lip was fuller than the upper, he noted, and she didn’t wear a smidgen of lipstick. He wondered how that mouth would feel under his and was immediately irritated at the thought.
“The field office will supply any additional help I need,” he continued. “For now, I want to explore on my own.”
“Explore where?” This from the patriarch.
“Here. The house and ranch.”
“That’s about five hundred thousand acres,” Ryan Fortune stated dryly, the impatience controlled but visible.
“I’m aware of that.” Dev’s tone was equally dry.
“What exactly are you looking for?” the daughter broke in. “Don’t you think all the clues will have been eradicated by now? It’s been two months since the kidnapping.”
“I’m aware of that, Ms. Fortune.”
“You had better call me Vanessa, otherwise you’ll have several people answer when the rest of the family is present,” she informed him crisply.
Devin caught the subtle nuance of arrogance in the correction, the demand that he do something now. He saw the father’s gaze shift to her, to him, then back to the daughter. The man saw more than Dev wanted him to.
An uncomfortable flash of heat hit him someplace deep inside. He maintained an impassive expression with an effort of will. But the hunger didn’t let up, nor the longing.
“My daughter will be available to answer any questions,” Mr. Fortune informed him. “I’ve asked her to take you any place on the ranch you want to go. You will have complete freedom to investigate as you wish.”
Another complication in an already complex situation. He ignored the woman and spoke to the father. “I understand Ms. Fortune is in school—”
“I’m taking a sabbatical from my studies,” she informed him. “A Ph.D. is nothing compared to finding my nephew.”
He thought of days spent in her company. Fate had never been kind, not to him. “I don’t have time for an amateur.”
The verdant eyes flashed. “I won’t get in your way.”
He didn’t argue, knowing the decision had been made before he’d appeared on the scene.
“You may go anywhere, question anyone, search any building,” Mr. Fortune assured him. “If anyone gives you any trouble, refer them to me.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dev breathed a little easier about his job. With Fortune’s approval, there was no doubt in his mind that he would get the cooperation he needed.
“Vanessa, take Mr. Kincaid to his room. He might as well get settled in—”
“I have a place in town, but thanks anyway,” Dev quickly put in.
“Staying here will be more efficient,” she told him in the same tone the father had used—as if no one would dare question the decision.
Before he could refuse, Mr. Fortune asked, “Are you by any chance related to the Montana Kincaids?”
“Not that I know of.”
As if he were kin to anyone with money. He was willing to bet the Montana Kincaids were another rich ranching family. Maybe he should tell Mr. Fortune and his snooty daughter about growing up in the Houston slums with a drunk for a father and a beaten-down mother—