Natural Born Trouble (2 page)

The indignant owner of the goldfish poked his brother. “Told you, dimwit.”

“Listen, Joshua Michael Jenkins, you don't know everything,” Zachary said, punching his brother back and allowing the boxed-up goldfish to topple to the floor in the process.

Dani stepped between them and quieted them with a hand on each boy's shoulder. “Hey, you two, don't start taking this out on each other. It was an accident, I'm sure.”

“It wasn't no accident,” Joshua said, scowling. “He was jealous `cause my goldfish lived and his didn't, so he killed it on purpose.”

“Did not,” Zachary said, trying to slip around Dani to throw a punch.

In his haste, he barely missed the box he'd dropped. Dani retrieved it. No telling what would happen if he squished his brother's fish on top of having killed it.

Dani hunkered down again and circled an arm around both waists, forcing them to remain where they were. “Were these your only pets?”

“Yeah,” Joshua said. “Dad said until we could learn to be responsible and take care of a couple of goldfish, he wasn't getting us no puppy.”

Dani winced at the appalling grammar, but figured someone better qualified than she was should be correcting that. “He's right, you know. If you own animals, it's very important that you take good care of them. It is a responsibility.”

“We'll probably never get a dog now,” Joshua grumbled. “And it's all your fault, dimwit. I coulda had one. It wasn't my goldfish that died, not until you killed it.”

“Maybe there's a way you could change your father's mind,” Dani said.

They eyed her skeptically.

“I don't know,” Zachary said. “Dad's pretty strict. Once he lays down the law, he won't budge for nothing.”

“How?” Joshua asked, clearly more willing to consider any option that would get him the puppy he wanted.

“Well, you see, I have a lot of kittens around here. People bring their cats by all the time, and I try to find good homes for them and their babies.”

Joshua appeared mildly intrigued. “Kittens, huh? What does that have to do with us?”

“I was thinking that perhaps your dad might let you bring one home on a trial basis until I could find a real home for it. It would be temporary, of course. I know it's not a substitute for the puppy you want, but it would help me out and you two could prove to your
dad that you are responsible enough for a puppy. What do you think?”

“Could we see the kittens?” Zachary asked.

“Sure.”

Dani led the way through the clinic to the entry into her own living quarters. Francie III, a descendant of her own first cat, lounged under the kitchen table, where she had the benefit of the cool linoleum and a slanted beam of sunlight.

“Is that the one?” Joshua asked, eyes wide. “She's really, really big.”

“She's expecting babies,” Dani explained.

At the sound of her voice, more cats scrambled through the doorway, skidding on the waxed floor, then meowing plaintively for food as they wound themselves around her ankles. The cats gave wide berth to the two boys. Maybe on some subliminal pet network they'd heard about the goldfish.

Three kittens, not quite as fast as the adults, nor as discriminating, picked their way daintily toward two pairs of fascinating new sneaker-clad feet and sniffed.

The boys peered down at the scrambling, tumbling heap of kittens, two gray-and-white, one orange with white paws.

“I like the orange one,” Zachary said.

“Me, too,” Joshua said. “He looks like a tiger.”

“It's a girl,” Dani said.

“Does she have a name?”

“Not yet, but I'll bet she'd really like one. You two could name her, if you're interested.”

“Mittens,” Zachary said at once.

“That's a dumb name,” Joshua protested.

“Is not. Her paws are white, aren't they?” Zachary bent down to pick up the kitten, but Joshua promptly nudged him aside.

“Don't even think about touching her,” he said. “You'll probably squish her or something.”

“Will not.”

“Will, too.”

“Hey,” Dani protested. “If you two can't get along and work together to take care of her, then I can't suggest to your dad that he allow you to watch out for her for me.”

“You're going to talk to our dad?” Zachary asked, wide-eyed.

“Of course. I can't send the kitten home with you without his permission. If you'd like me to, I'll call him right now.”

“At work?” Joshua asked, then shook his head. “I don't think that's such a good idea. He's not in a very good mood when he's at work.”

“Besides I don't think he'd like it very much if he knew Paolina brought us into town,” Zachary added.

“Paolina?”

“She's our new housekeeper,” Joshua explained.

“Yeah, and she's stayed a whole two weeks, longer than any of the others.”

“I see.” Dani hid a smile at the telling remarks. “You let me worry about your dad. I think he'll understand that this was a crisis. Do you know the number?” She picked up a nearby portable phone.

“Sure,” Zachary said and recited it.

The familiar number had her pausing. “Your dad's in the oil business?”

“How'd you know that?” Joshua asked.

“I know someone who works there,” she said carefully, not mentioning that the someone was her stepfather, nor that he owned the company. “What's your dad's name?”

“Duke Jenkins.”

Ah, Dani thought, so these boys belonged to the mysterious Duke Jenkins, whose reputation in the field had been legendary. She'd overheard Jordan talking about how badly he hated the thought of losing him on exploration, but what an asset he would be anywhere in the company.

She'd also heard that the man was chafing at being chained to a desk. She suspected these two had something to do with his decision to take a safer assignment. Or perhaps his wife had demanded it. Then, again, hadn't she heard he was a widower? Or was he divorced? Either would explain why he and not their mother was making the decisions about their pets and why this new housekeeper was so important.

She hit speed dial for the company headquarters a few blocks away. Originally the company had been in Houston, but her mother had persuaded Jordan to relocate years ago. When the operator answered, Dani greeted her, then asked for Duke Jenkins.

“Don't tell me you've staked him out already,” the young woman said with an audible sigh of regret.

“Actually, I'm calling on a business matter,” Dani reassured her.

“Well, you're out of luck, hon. He's in with Jordan and last time I checked the rafters were about to blow straight off the building. I wouldn't buzz in there for the president of the U.S.A.”

Donna Kelso was not easily intimidated, nor was Jordan the kind of man who tolerated much
insubordination. Dani could only imagine just how explosive the meeting going on in her stepfather's office was. If Duke Jenkins was foolish enough to take Jordan on, he was either a very brave man or he operated on pure arrogance. If Jordan hadn't fired him in the first five minutes, then Duke Jenkins was a very valuable company asset. Dani knew better than to get caught in the middle.

“Never mind,” she said hurriedly. “I'll catch up with him later. Thanks, Donna.”

“You bet. You want me to leave him a message, say in a day or two when things cool down?”

“No, thanks.”

She hung up and turned to see two very disappointed faces.

“I guess we don't get a kitten, huh?” Zachary asked.

“Not right away,” she said. “But I will talk to your dad. I promise.”

“When?” Joshua asked. “Tonight? He's always home by suppertime. You could come over. That would be best. Dad would never yell at a lady in person. He says it's not proper to hit girls and yell at them and stuff.”

Dani wasn't at all sure she wanted to meet the formidable Duke Jenkins on his home turf, especially when his mood was likely to be surly. Still, she really did have to find a home for the kittens. She had a hunch a face-to-face chat with Mr. Jenkins was the only way these boys were going to get permission to bring one home. Besides, it might be interesting to see what sort of scars Duke Jenkins bore from his battle with Jordan. She'd known few men who dared
to stand up to him and lived to tell about it, other than her uncles and grandfather, of course.

“I'll stop by as soon as I close up for the day,” she agreed.

“Will you bring the kitten with you?” Joshua asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “That might be a tactical mistake, boys. I'd better talk to your dad first.”

“He would probably like Mittens a lot if he saw her,” Zachary argued.

“Trust me,” Dani said, thinking that Zachary's tactical approach was very reminiscent of one she had used quite often at his age. Now she reacted with an adult's sense of caution. “We should get his permission first.”

Let the man at least think he was in charge. It was a motto that made sense to her. It didn't mean he had to actually be in charge, as long as he thought he was. Being around a whole clan of master manipulators, most of them hardheaded males, had given her an edge on understanding the masculine thought process. She doubted Duke Jenkins veered too far from the same mold. In fact, Donna's report had just pretty much confirmed it.

“Dr. Adams?” Joshua asked, sounding suspiciously meek.

“Yes?” She noticed his gaze was pinned to the kittens again.

Blue eyes lifted and regarded her hopefully. “As long as you're going to talk to Dad anyway, do you think maybe you could see if we could keep all three kittens?” Joshua asked. “One for me and one for Zack and one for Dad.”

“I don't know,” she said. “Maybe we should start with just one. Besides, your dad might not want a kitten of his own.”

“I'll bet he would,” Zachary said. “He's kinda lonely now that Mom's gone.”

Definitely another budding manipulator, she thought, fighting the salty sting of tears at the hitch in his voice. Probably a trait he'd picked up at his father's knee. That reference to his mom was definitely calculated to stir sympathy.

No problem, though. She was an Adams, by name and upbringing, if not by birth. When it came to manipulation, she had learned from the best authorities in the whole state of Texas, if not the entire world. Resisting Duke Jenkins and his sons would be a snap.

Then she recalled Donna's awestruck reaction at the mention of Duke's name. Maybe now would be a good time to start praying that she wasn't unwittingly about to start flirting with disaster.

D
uke Jenkins was mad enough to bend a steel beam in two, preferably around Jordan Adams's neck. The man was stubborn, arrogant and, without question, the best oil man in the state of Texas. Maybe in the world. Duke figured he was no slouch himself, which suggested that maybe once, just once, Jordan ought to listen to him.

They were going to be wasting time and money drilling that new field. Every instinct he possessed told him that. He didn't give two hoots about the ream of geological surveys piled up on his desk. If he'd been able to get out there and look things over firsthand, run the dirt through his fingers, get a deep whiff of the scent of it, he would have been able to put some real strength into his arguments.

As it was, he was going with his gut, instinct honed by years of wildcatting. Jordan preferred cold, hard facts. Scientific facts, which in this instance Duke suspected had been doctored to someone else's benefit.

If he'd had somebody to look after the boys, Duke would have given Jordan all the facts he wanted. He would have been on a plane in a heartbeat, doing what he did best: finding oil and bringing it in, making them all richer.

Not that he cared all that much about the money. Most of his life he hadn't had a lot, hadn't needed much. Now he just wanted to insure that his sons would have a good future, a college education if they wanted it, though getting them through elementary school was proving to be challenge enough.

At any rate, he would trade the potential profits for the pure adrenaline rush of bringing in a new gusher any day.

Instead, he was surrounded by paperwork, mounds of it, most of which didn't matter a tinker's damn in the overall scheme of things as near as he could tell.

Oh, how he hated pushing papers around on a desk, he thought, staring irritably at the mostly untouched piles of it still awaiting some action or another. Well, today he'd had enough of it, he concluded, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. If he hung around another few minutes, he might storm straight back into Jordan's office and quit, something he didn't have the right to do with two kids depending on him. The twins were the reason he'd made the move to Los Pinos in the first place. He had to give this major life-style overhaul a chance to work for their sakes.

Twenty minutes later, he had the top on the classic convertible down, the car radio was blaring a George Strait tune and he was curving down the winding driveway to the white, ranch-style house he'd bought on the outskirts of Los Pinos. There was a little dip in
the land, then a rise. His house was nestled in that suggestion of a valley, surrounded by the pines for which the town had been named. A trickle of water that passed for a creek was the north boundary of the property. It looked like a picture-book image of what a home ought to be. He'd bought it at first sight because of that. It had triggered some sort of subliminal yearning within him.

Not that he had much experience with real homes. He'd bounced from foster home to foster home as a kid, a born troublemaker, according to those in the system who'd had to deal with his belligerence.

Used to being on the move, he'd seen no need to settle down once he'd grown up. Oil had been a way to stay on the go and pile up a decent bankroll.