He slipped out the door before she could respond to that. He drove down the block and parked around the corner. He didnât doubt for an instant that Ruby would be on the phone to Laurie the moment he was out of sight.
And the moment Ruby was gone for the night, he intended to sneak back into the office, punch Redial and discover for himself exactly where Laurie Jensen was holed up with his baby girl.
Chapter Three
Going back into Nick Sanducciâs office and checking the phone had been a good idea. Maybe even a great idea, Harlan Patrick thought ruefully. Unfortunately Ruby was either on to him and hadnât used the office phone to call Laurie or had simply made another call after that. Heâd managed to slip back into the building easily enoughâthe locks were downright pitifulâbut when heâd pressed the Redial button, a very cranky man had growled hello, then slammed the phone down when Harlan Patrick had been too stunned and disappointed to speak.
His reaction proved what a lousy detective heâd make. Only afterward had he considered all the possible explanations for who that man might have been. It could have been someone answering for Laurie herself. Or it could have been her agent, Nick Sanducci, he concluded belatedly, regretting his silence. But even if it was the illustrious, high-powered agent, he was clearly in no mood to indulge Harlan Patrickâs request for information about Laurie. He resigned himself to waiting for morning and another round with Ruby.
Back in his hotel room after a steak dinner that had tasted like sawdust, he was able to think rationally. He recognized that he ought to be grateful for the delay. In her own way Laurie was every bit as stubborn as he wasâto say nothing of unpredictable. She had the financial wherewithal nowadays to simply disappear, taking his daughter with her. Obviously, confronting her when he was ready to commit mayhem was no way to get what he wanted.
Whatever that was, he amended with a sigh. It occurred to him that he ought to figure that much out at least before coming face-to-face with the woman who generally rendered him tongue-tied and weak-kneed.
Did he just want to see his child? Did he want to exact revenge on Laurie for deceiving him? Or did he want what heâd always wanted, to take both of them home with him, to have a family with Laurie Jensen?
One thing for certainâhe needed to figure all that out before he blasted his way back into her life. He needed to be seeing things clearly and thinking straight, or sheâd waltz right out of his life one more time. Something told him this was their very last chance to get it right.
He spent two frustrating days thinking about Laurie, the baby and their future, while trying to convince Ruby to divulge Laurieâs itinerary to him. Nick proved as elusive as a stray calf loose on ten thousand acres of pastureland, but Ruby was mellowing. Harlan Patrick had been plying her with chocolate-covered doughnuts and compliments and he was pretty sure she was weakening. Sheâd actually tossed a handful of newspaper clippings at him that morning and told him to figure out Laurieâs whereabouts for himself.
âYouâre a clever man. See what you can make of these,â sheâd challenged.
There was plenty of information to be had in those clippings, bits of rave reviews, comments on her new albumâs fast rise in the music charts. It was plain that Laurie Jensen was hot news in Nashville. The only trouble was that that news was a day too late to help him find her. By the time Ruby handed over the clippings, even the most recent ones, Laurie was already moving on.
He was back at the agentâs office for the third straight day, when a teenager who was working part-time finally took pity on him and slipped him a copy of the concert schedule. He had a feeling Ruby had looked the other wayâor maybe even instigated it, but he was careful not to let on what he thought. Ruby plainly felt her integrity was on the line, but just as plainly she felt that Laurieâs baby deserved to have a daddy in her life. Sheâd all but admitted that to him on several occasions.
Clutching the itinerary in his hand, he grabbed his bag from the hotel and headed for the airport, where once again Jordanâs jet was fueled up and waiting. Laurie was scheduled for a stop in Montana, then a hop over to Wyoming, a jog back to Montana, then after a two-day break, the Ohio State Fairgrounds. Columbus was closest, but he didnât want to wait another minute, much less several days. Too much time had been wasted already. He calculated the flying time and figured he could make that first Montana stop in time for her closing set.
An icy calm settled over him as he flew, but as he drove to the country-western bar where she was singing, an old, familiar sense of anticipation began to build. It was doggone irritating that she could still have that effect on him, especially under these circumstances when he very much wanted to wring her neck. His pulse was zipping with lust, not adrenaline.
He found the bar after a few wrong turns. It was bigger than some heâd seen, but smaller than heâd expected a star on the rise to be playing. In fact, the End of the Road back in Garden City had been a step above this place. He found that irksome, too. She could have stayed in Texas and done this well for herself.
Then he recalled what heâd read in one of the clippings, that part of this tour had been arranged to settle old debts to club owners whoâd given her a break. Typical of Laurie. She was loyal and generous. If it hadnât been for him, sheâd probably have played the End of the Road on this tour as well. If heâd had a lick of sense or any foresight, heâd have had the owner ask and then Laurie could have come to him, instead of the other way around. Of course, because of the baby, she probably wouldnât have set foot near the place. But that was water under the bridge anyway. He was here now, and Laurie was only a hundred yards away or less.
With the barâs front door ajar on the warm night, the sound of her voice washed over him as he walked from the parking lot toward the neon-lit building. She had the kind of voice that made a man think of sin, no matter how innocent the words. It was low and sultry and filled with magic.
How many nights had he lain awake remembering the whisper of that voice in his ear? How many days had he played her albums as he worked around the ranch? Enough that he and most of the hands knew the lyrics of her songs by heart. One daring newcomer, who didnât know their history, had made a suggestive remark about Laurie, only to have Harlan Patrick yank him out of his saddle and scare him half to death before reason kicked in.
Heaven knew, the woman could sing. He grabbed hold of the door and braced himself to enter, reminding himself to stay calm no matter what. Only after he walked inside the bar did he realize that what heâd heard had come from a jukebox, while the impatient audience waited for the second set to begin. Harlan Patrick slipped into the shadows in the back, ordered a beer and waited.
A few minutes later Laurie emerged amid a flash of red, white and blue strobe lights, the beat of the song fast and hard and upbeat. The wall-to-wall crowd was on its feet at once, and the whole place began to rock with the sound of her music and wild applause. She kept up the fever pitch through one song, then two, then a third. Just when Harlan Patrick was sure half the room was going to pass out from the frenzy, she turned the tempo down and had them swaying quietly to a tune so sad and soul weary, he almost shed a tear or two himself.
A cynic might have said she was manipulative. A critic would have said she had the crowd in the palm of her hand. Harlan Patrick simply wondered at the mixed emotions he felt listening to the woman he loved captivate a whole roomful of strangers. Heâd had her to himself for so many years. Was that the real problem, that he didnât want to share her with the world? Was it selfishness, as much as cussedness, that had made him refuse to search harder for a compromise?
The thought that possessiveness might be the root of their troubles made him too uncomfortable to stay in the room a moment longer. While the show went on, he slipped out the door and made his way to the clubâs back entrance, which was also standing open to permit the nightâs breeze to drift inside the overheated club.
Harlan