Her Sweet Talkin' Man (5 page)

“If you'll excuse me,” Ace said, and he nodded and turned to leave again.

“You still haven't told us, Ace, what your inten
tions are in coming here,” Fiona said, and when he looked at her, she didn't look as much worried as speculative. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Crystal. She was watching him, and her eyes were big with worry.

“Hell,” he said almost beneath his breath.

“Pardon me?” Cara said.

A smile lifted the corners of Ace's mouth. He looked at the expensively dressed, obviously privileged group standing before him. He couldn't forget the innocent woman standing off to the side worrying, and he knew he'd been right all along. He didn't fit in here and never would. But then, he hadn't come here for that; he hadn't even come to stay very long at all. He
had
come here for a reason.

“I just came to raise a little hell like I always have,” he told Cara, and smiled as she blinked. “I regret to inform you, baby sister, that your oldest brother doesn't care much about pomp or prestige or the joys of settling down and behaving himself. And I'm here just to meet the clan, let you know I exist and who I am. And then, in time, when I've caused enough talk and trouble and discomfort, I'll do what all men like me tend to do. Drift away. Move on. And you can go on as you always have. Except you'll know that there's one more Carson out there. Hell, you'll wonder, like I do, just how many more of us there actually are. Now I think I'll move along. Nice meeting all of you Carsons.”

And he saluted his half brothers and sisters and strode off.

As he passed the part of the room where he'd last seen Crystal, Ace couldn't help looking her way. He was on his way—for the first time in his life—to face the man who had seduced his mother, contributed his DNA and then turned his back forever on her and the son he'd fathered. He should have been elated, gleeful even. It was the moment Ace had prepared for, maybe all his life.

But instead of joy, he felt as if concrete weights were pressing on him.

He should have been clipping across the floor on his way to deliver the news to his father that the “bad penny” Carson had just shown up. Instead, he moved to Crystal like steel to magnet. He looked down at the complete concern in her big hazel eyes, and a low groan escaped him.

She was leaning against a wall, hovering in the background, staring at him as if he were Timmy or some other soul in need of her concern. It occurred to him that she was genuinely worried about him. That wouldn't do. She had enough grief in her life. She didn't need to be thinking about
his
problems.

Somehow he managed a teasing smile. He leaned one palm against the wall and swooped in close.

“You, darlin', are driving me completely nuts tonight,” he whispered right next to her ear.

He felt the shiver slide through her. She lifted her chin. “What do you mean?”

Ace gave her his best slow lazy smile, designed to disarm and chase away ugly worrisome thoughts. “I mean that the whole time I was talking to the gang,” he said, nodding in the direction where the Carson
siblings were still standing deep in conversation, “I kept thinking that I wanted to do this.”

And with one fluid motion, he slid his arm lightly around her waist. He slipped his other hand beneath her hair and exposed her neck to his view. Lightly he touched his lips to the spot where her pulse was pounding. He gave her plenty of time to slither away, plenty of room to run.

Instead, she gasped softly. If anything, she moved closer.

He closed his eyes, afraid to move. Had he meant to scare her? No, definitely not, but maybe he'd meant to warn her that she shouldn't trust him any more than that Branson character. That she shouldn't waste her worry on a man like him who could not stick around any more than Timmy's father had.

“Are you worried about meeting Ford?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No.” The word came out a little harshly. And hell, why not? With Crystal's body this close, what man wouldn't feel like he was losing control? “No,” he said more softly.

But when he pulled back, he saw that he hadn't soothed her a bit. If anything, she looked more concerned about him than ever.

And when he turned and walked away, he thought he heard her soft steps behind him.

C
rystal followed along a good ten feet behind Ace, unable to stop herself. She'd watched him with his newly found half brothers and sisters. She'd seen the way he'd handled the situation, playing it light, but there was something rigid about his jaw. He stood apart. Because he disliked them or because he expected them to dislike him?

He had obviously come to meet the family, but he just as obviously had no desire to linger. He didn't appear to have any love for his father; he spoke of revenge for someone other than himself, but insisted he wasn't a violent man.

Ace Carson was a million questions wrapped into a couple of great big questions. Who was he really and why was he here?

She didn't have a clue who he was, but his touch had made her want to turn in his arms and press against him. He insisted he wasn't respectable, but he had protected her twice.

She had a feeling he was good at protecting other people, but who was going to protect him? He was moving across the room to meet the man who had not wanted him even when he was an innocent, appealing baby. What must that be like?

For a moment a vision of her own son doing this same thing, seeking out his father years from now, rose before her, and her heart nearly cracked.

But she looked at Ace. He wasn't like Timmy and he was a very strong man, yet right now he was about as alone in this town as a man could be.

She walked on behind him.

Then from a side door, she sensed a presence. Crystal turned to see Ford Carson moving toward them with his thick white hair, his bushy eyebrows and his air of complete command. People approached him, eager to speak to this towering man they all knew and loved so well, but he shook his head and kept moving toward Ace.

Like an animal sniffing the air for danger, Ace stopped suddenly. He turned and saw his father for the first time.

For several seconds he didn't move. Then he frowned and stepped forward. He glanced at Crystal out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her that it wasn't safe for her to be here. She probably shouldn't be intruding like this, but she wasn't sure she could let him do this alone. Again the image of Timmy doing the same thing rose before her. Again she realized that Ace wasn't Timmy, but still, she had to stay.

And in spite of the tension of the moment, Ace seemed to understand. He winked at her and motioned her to a nearby table. An audience of one.

Crystal prepared to do what she'd come to do. If only she knew what that was. For now she simply
watched and waited as Ford and Ace met not quite twenty feet from her.

“Someone told me there was a man looking for me. A stranger. Since you're the only stranger I see here, and you look as if you're looking for someone, I'm assuming you're the man everyone is talking about,” Ford said. He stood there, handsome as all the Carsons were, with the height he'd bequeathed to all his sons and a barely suppressed air of expectation. Due to a heart condition that had flared up again recently, he looked like an aging gunfighter, tired, wary, but a little excited at the danger and still able to command power and send fear racing through his opponents when he needed to.

“I guess maybe I am that man,” Ace said, moving forward, his steps sure and deliberate.

“Then I guess I'd like to know what you want.”

“Not much.” Ace gazed steadily at Ford. His stance was relaxed, even casual, but Crystal saw that his hands were bunched into fists. “I just came to pass on some news to you.”

“You're not from around here.”

“No, about two hundred miles away. West. Hampsted.”

She thought she saw Ford drag in a breath. Surely Fiona or Flynt had warned him what was coming. If so, why didn't he just say so? But then it occurred to her that this might not be a new experience for him. He might have gone through something like this before. A man like Ford, with his money and prestige, probably had people making claims on him all the time. False claims.

Crystal almost closed her eyes at that thought. Her heart felt as if it stopped much too long to keep her blood flowing. She looked straight at Ace and saw that he was studying her, not Ford, at that moment. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was questioning her the way she was questioning him.

But she wasn't really questioning him. Anyone who saw the two men standing together could never deny that they were related. Ace wasn't a false prophet. He smiled at her and gave her an encouraging nod as if to tell her that he was just sharing a beer with an old friend and would be right over to kiss her and take her home any minute now. “Not much longer, darlin',” his eyes seemed to say.

“What's the news you've brought me?” Ford asked, and his voice was slightly unsteady.

“Just that an old friend of yours passed away. You might not really remember her. Her name was Rebecca. Rebecca Barron originally. It was a long time ago that she knew you. She just asked me to stop by, so I said I would.”

He said this casually, as if he barely knew the woman in question, though it was clear to Crystal that the woman had been his mother.

Ford's hands were bunched into fists now, but he didn't respond to Ace's suggestion that he might have either known or forgotten the woman. “Do you live in Hampsted?” he asked, instead.

“Sometimes. I'm not big on roots, though.”

For half a second, Crystal thought she saw fierce intent in Ace's eyes, but then she blinked and decided
she was wrong, because he was wearing that long, slow, I-don't-give-a-damn-about-anything smile.

“I see. Are you…just passing through Mission Creek?”

“I am. But first I'm going to stay and see the sights and have a little fun.”

His tone implied that there would be drinking and brawling and women involved. Crystal tried not to dwell on that.

“You have a place to stay, son?” Ford's voice dipped low, almost coming out as a choked whisper.

“I'm fine,” Ace said a bit too quickly. “I've rented rooms at the Overton Apartments.”

Crystal heard a soft gasp at her side and she looked up to see Cara standing beside her. “That's a hell-hole,” Cara whispered, as if Crystal didn't already know that. Everybody did. “Nola Warburn rents out rooms by the hour sometimes, and I don't even want to think how seldom the sheets get changed.”

In the silence that had followed Ace's statement, Cara's whisper carried.

A smile played over Ace's lips, and Crystal knew that he was as aware of Nola Warburn's reputation as everyone else was.

“I can find you a better place,” Ford said.

“That's very kind, but where I'm at is just fine. It suits me. I won't be there long, anyway.”

“No one ever is,” Fiona said. Obviously the entire Carson crowd had arrived. Even Grace, Ford's wife, was watching carefully from beside her children. She didn't move forward. Of course. She was the woman
that Ford
had
married. She probably hadn't known about Ace's mother.

Crystal gave Grace a worried look. Pretty and plump and blond, she was naturally pale, but today she was even paler than usual. Still, she was hanging in there. And she was looking at Ace with sad eyes.

Ace gave everyone a smile and a slight bow. “If you'll excuse me, it's late, and you have a party to see to,” he said. “And I'm a workingman. Got to get up early.”

A look of confusion passed over Ford's features. “I thought you weren't staying.”

“I'm not, but a man has to eat. I usually find work in most places I visit. In sales, usually. If any one of you needs a good luxury car, you be sure to stop over at Mission Creek Motors. I'd be happy to fit you out with the best that money can buy.

“Nice meeting all of you. Ma'am,” he said, turning to Grace and tilting his head in a careful salute of goodbye as he moved away.

“Mission Creek Motors?” Flynt said, and gave a low whistle. “Hell and more hell, Dad. You've gone and fathered a son who intends to run you out of the car business.”

For the first time in the course of the conversation, Ford almost smiled. “Looks like you're right about that. I'd say that he's not exactly happy to have discovered he's my son.”

Grace came up and touched her husband gently on the arm. “It's more than that, Ford.”

He looked at her with bleak eyes. “I know, and
I'm sorry. Let's go home, love. It's been a long day. Too much to think about for one night.”

“By tomorrow we'll have a plan,” she assured him, kissing his cheek as they walked away.

Fiona turned to Crystal. “Do you think he really means to run Daddy's dealership out of town?”

Matt gave her a look of disbelief. “Lone Star Auto has been in business much longer than Mission Creek Motors, and we've always pulled in more sales than J.D. has.”

“Yes, but J.D. was in it just for fun. Ace Carson is looking for blood and payback.”

“The women will probably flock there,” Cara said, looking at Crystal. Crystal felt her face flame.

“He's just a man I met today,” she said softly. “He helped me when I needed it. He's leaving when he's done whatever he plans to do.”

“He plans to get some of his own back from the Carsons, it looks like,” Matt said. “Might do it, too. Can you imagine what people are thinking? A Carson living in the Overton Apartments and selling the competitor's cars?” His voice was indignant, but before he'd finished speaking, he began to grin and shake his head. “Things have been a bit tame around here lately,” he said. “This could prove interesting.”

Cara frowned. “Daddy's upset. He's always been in control of everything.”

Fiona nodded. “Well, it looks like this is one man he can't control. I wonder if there's a woman who can tame Ace Carson,” she said, smiling at Crystal.

Her comment made Crystal's breath catch. She re
membered how it had felt when Ace had placed his hand on her waist, his lips against her skin.

She stood. “Like the man said, I have to work tomorrow. And Timmy needs his own bed.”

Fiona smiled, but Crystal raised her brows and held up a hand. “This topic is off-limits, Fiona. There's too much we don't know here, and too much we'll probably never know. I'm leaving now. I'm going home. My own home,” she stressed, “and I would appreciate it if you would get those matchmaking notions right out of your head.”

Fiona lifted one delicate shoulder. Her husband, Clay, and Cara's husband, Omar, came up behind them. Clay looped an arm around his wife and Omar kissed Cara's cheek.

“Have our wives been causing trouble for you, Crystal?” Omar asked.

Crystal smiled at the men, who were so obviously in love. “Just the usual. Fiona's trying to marry me off to every man that comes down the pike.”

“Not just any man this time,” Fiona said as Crystal waved and walked away.

“Not by a long shot,” Crystal whispered to herself. Ace Turner was a maddening, sensual, gloriously attractive man with a protective streak for women that was bigger than the town of Mission Creek, and he was about as easy to hold on to as air. It was time to stop thinking about him.

But when she walked out the door of the Lone Star Country Club leading Timmy by the hand, Ace was waiting there, leaning against the porch rail, his arms crossed.

He smiled when he saw her.

“I thought you'd gone,” she said.

“You're my ride,” he told her. “And I believe the saying holds here. You leave the dance with the one who brought you.”

She shook her head and chuckled. “I believe that applies to dating practices. We're not dating.”

“No, ma'am, and not likely to be, either.” But when he took her hand to lead her and Timmy through the dark parking lot, his hand was warm and strong and it took all the power she possessed to remind herself that he was just doing her a kindness. After all, Ace was a car salesman. He probably had any number of vehicles at his disposal.

When they got to her car and opened the door, the light poured out, revealing a long key scratch on the side. An involuntary gasp escaped Crystal's lips.

“Hell,” Ace said.

Automatically Crystal's fingers skimmed the ugly gouge. It was only a car, but it was hers, and this had obviously been an intentional act of destruction. She picked Timmy up and pulled him close in a protective embrace.

“Who would do this?” she asked. Who would have anything against her? The answer came to her. Branson.

“Don't think about it,” Ace said, his voice tight with leashed anger. “Come on, let's get you home. I'll drive.”

“Should we report it?”

“Yes, but tomorrow will be soon enough. Whoever did this is most likely gone.”

Or watching.

But she saw Ace looking at Timmy and she had to agree. Even if someone was watching, they could not attend to the problem right now. Not while her child was at risk.

They drove in silence, Ace's hands tense on the wheel, Crystal's mind tumbling like a tornado blowing through the town. Only Timmy was peaceful as the motion of the car lulled him into dreamland.

“This isn't the way to the Overton Apartments. This is the way to my house.”

“Fancy that,” he said.

“You're coming home with me?” Her voice felt strange and stiff and slightly panicked. The thought of Ace Turner Carson in her house or even near her house, taking up the space, filling it with his overwhelming presence, was almost too much for her to contemplate.

He shook his head. “Relax, darlin', I'm just escorting you home. I'll leave when we get there.”

“How? You said that I was your ride.”

“I lied. And don't worry about how. I've been getting around on my own since I was old enough to think for myself.”

She wondered what that meant. What had his childhood been like? How different had it been from that of his half brothers and sisters?