Alex and Buck finished the cases for the DA and Buck was pleased because in both cases the attorneys were able to secure a guilty verdict.
The DA had its own investigators, but when they needed someone to go the extra mile they knew who to call. Buck was known for getting information out of the person without them knowing it. Everything Alex had learned about investigating, she’d learned from her father.
That morning Buck said, “I’m off to the coast for a few days of fishing.”
“Oh?” She looked up from reading the paper.
“Yeah. Bert’s putting a new heating-and-cooling unit in so it’s no use hanging around here.”
“What? You never mentioned that.”
“Thought I did.”
“No. I would have remembered it.”
“Well, you might think about taking some time off, too. We have the Cryder and Wilcox cases next week and we might as well start fresh.” He poured another cup of coffee. “I’m going to hook up my boat.”
Time off. That sounded wonderful to Alex. She had a friend, Patsy, in Florida she could visit and lie on the beach with drinking piña coladas. As she jumped up to call Patsy, the phone rang.
“Alex, it’s Lou at the lab.”
This was it. He had the results of the Braxton DNA test. She braced herself.
“I’m sorry. We can’t get a clear DNA from Mr. Hayes’s hair. We’ll need blood or saliva to complete the test.”
“Thanks, Lou. I’ll get back to you.”
She hung up cursing. Damn. This could have been so easy. How was she going to get his blood or saliva? By asking, like she should have done in the first place.
Being discreet had its advantages, but the ethics of this whole situation bothered her. She’d wanted to make things easy for Helen and Brodie—that’s the only reason she’d stolen the comb. Ever since she’d done that, though, it had been niggling at her.
She’d have to do this by the book, as Buck had taught her. She’d have to tell Brodie Hayes the truth. He deserved that and it would keep her principles about her job intact. She grabbed her purse, heading for Brodie’s ranch once again.
Parking at the house, she spotted him at the corrals on a horse, herding cattle into a pen. Plumes of dust spiraled around him. His truck and trailer were backed up to a loading chute.
Without a second thought she walked to the pipe corral. He dismounted and closed the gate, his gaze swinging to her. His loose-limbed strides brought him closer and she thought again how incredibly sexy he was. Today there were no starched clothes. His chambray shirt and jeans were worn, his boots dusty and his Stetson stained with sweat.
The hat pulled low hid his eyes, but from the firm set of his jaw she knew he wasn’t happy to see her.
“You’re back,” he said, his voice unfriendly.
“May I speak with you please?”
“Lady, I’m rather busy at the moment.” Those blue eyes blazed. “And people who steal are not people I want to talk to.”
“If you’ll give me a few minutes, I can explain.”
He seemed to think about it. “You’ve got five minutes.” He meandered around cows to a gate, his dogs behind him. Within seconds, he was standing next to her and his nearness seemed to cut off her breathing.
The heat was suffocating her even more. “Could we sit somewhere?” She blinked against the sun.
He turned toward the barn and she saw a bench beneath an oak tree. She sat down, glad of the shade. He remained standing, staring at her with narrowed eyes. The bluest blue was frosty and she felt a moment of trepidation.
The dogs sniffed at her feet and she patted them. “What’s their names?”
“Buck and Butch.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed.
“You find that funny?” He lifted a dark eyebrow.
“No. Yes…you see, we call my dad Buck.”
The little bit of conversation seemed to relieve the tension and he sank down by her. “Who are you?”
She took a moment, then said, “I’m a private investigator.”
He looked at her with a startled expression. “Are you investigating me?”
“Yes.”
Brodie was taken aback. He’d never met a detective who looked quite like her before, with soft brown eyes, high cheekbones and a bow of a mouth. A kissable, tantalizing mouth. Her blond hair was pulled back like the other day, but today she wore snug-fitting jeans and a knit top. She appeared more like a model than a detective.
He swallowed. “Why?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain.”
He thought for a minute. She took his comb, which probably had strands of his hair on it. Oh no. He jumped to his feet. “Were you trying to get my DNA?”
Her eyes grew big, as if she didn’t quite expect him to grasp that so quickly. “Yes.”
“Who is it?”
She frowned. “What?”
“I assume some woman I’ve slept with is trying to find out if I’m the father of her child. Who is it?” Just saying the words caused a painful knot to form in his stomach. He was always careful, always used protection, but there was always that slim chance.
She shook her head. “It’s nothing like that.”
He removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Then what is it?” Relief oozed out of him. He could actually feel it.
“Do you know a Helen Braxton?”
“No. Never heard the name. Who is she?”
There was silence for a moment.
Alex took her time, not knowing quite how to do this. The paternity thing threw her and she wondered just how many women there’d been in his life. Probably more than he could remember. His relief was very evident. She was getting sidetracked and she brought her thoughts back to his question.
There wasn’t an easy way to do this so she just came out with it. “Someone stole her baby from the hospital nursery almost forty years ago.”
The dark eyebrow rose again. “So? What does that have to do with me?”
She stared at him. “She thinks you might be her son.”
He drew back. “You’re joking, right?”
“No.” She held his gaze.
An eerie quiet wrapped around them. A cow mooed, the dogs barked in response and trotted to the corral to investigate. The hot sun fueled an unbearable heat. A typical summer day, but there was nothing typical about the innuendoes and unspoken truths.
He studied his hat in his hand. “Why does she think I’m her son?”
“She saw your picture in the paper and you resemble her other sons.”
“That’s it?” His face creased into a frown. “You invade my privacy because this woman thinks I might be her long lost son. You have no proof. Nothing.”
“No. That’s why I wanted to do this discreetly, to keep you from ever knowing—if it wasn’t true.”
“How noble of you.”
“I