with the raw pain she saw in his eyes.
“You’re as manipulative as your old man.” His accusation pierced her like a well-aimed arrow.
She stiffened in shock and affront at the vicious comparison. She certainly didn’t blame him for feeling that way—his scorn was well founded in fact—but it still hurt her to the core that he thought she was capable of such machinations.
“That’s neither true nor fair,” she declared fiercely.
“He couldn’t have a son of his own, so he took mine.”
“He loved Tony.”
“You thought you could just kiss me off—”
“You kissed me!”
“Consider us even, then.” He closed the gap between them, and she could feel both the heat of his anger and the fabric of his trousers through her silk skirt. “You used me and I used you.”
Her gray eyes widened in dismay. Her throat went itchy and tight with emotion. Her heartached at the way he’d just ground the kiss they’d shared at the gravesite under the heel of retaliation.
Rafe gripped her shoulders and shook her, hard. “When are you going to tell Tony about me?”
Jeannie twisted, but couldn’t escape his digging fingers. “When I feel he can handle it.”
“If you think I’m going to let another day go by without claiming my son,
Señorita
Crane,” he stressed with a mocking accent, “you’ve got another think coming.”
She felt a cold chill at the realization that he could take legal action regarding Tony. “But you can’t just pop into his life after ten years and expect to take charge.”
“I’m his father!” He released her suddenly, and she stumbled backward. “I have rights!”
She caught her balance against the back of a chair and drew herself up rigidly. “You have no rights—not like this!”
His blue eyes bored through her like a diamond-point drill. “Don’t bet the ranch on it.”
Maternal instinct transformed Jeannie into a tigress, turning her into as dangerous an adversary as he. “I’ll see you in hell before I let you turn Tony’s world upside down.”
“Fine.” Rafe spun on his heel and strode across the room. At the door he pivoted and fired his parting shot. “I’ll see you in court.”
Five
The special-delivery letter came three days later.
No sooner had Jeannie returned from taking Tony to school and sat down at the desk in the office—her office now—to write the last of the thank-you notes and to pay the vet and hay bills than she heard the mail truck pull into the ranch yard.
Her fine brows drew into a frown as she got to her feet and went to the window. The Circle C was on a rural route, which meant the mail was usually deposited in the box at the end of the drive. She picked it up when she brought Tony home from school. She really couldn’t think of a reason for the sudden change in routine … unless …
With a sense of foreboding so powerful itsqueezed the breath from her lungs, she went out the door and down the porch steps to sign for the letter.
Jeannie stared at the creamy vellum envelope with the return address embossed in the upper left-hand corner for a long time before she tore it open. Her heart sank to new depths of despair as she read Rafe’s demand for parental visitation rights. This was just the beginning, she realized. Next he very well might try to take Tony away from her.
“Bad news?” Rusty had gotten a late start on riding herd that morning, claiming “Old Art,” as he referred to his chronic arthritis, had kept him up half the night. His spurs, which bore his initials in silver, jingled as he led his bay across the ranch yard on legs that had grown a little stiffer and a little less agile with every passing year.
“See for yourself.” Jeannie handed him the letter, then pressed her fingertips to her temples, attempting to ease a sledgehammer of a headache that gave new meaning to the word
pain
. She hadn’t been sleeping well, either, but not because of a physical problem. Every time she climbed into bed and
“You’re as manipulative as your old man.” His accusation pierced her like a well-aimed arrow.
She stiffened in shock and affront at the vicious comparison. She certainly didn’t blame him for feeling that way—his scorn was well founded in fact—but it still hurt her to the core that he thought she was capable of such machinations.
“That’s neither true nor fair,” she declared fiercely.
“He couldn’t have a son of his own, so he took mine.”
“He loved Tony.”
“You thought you could just kiss me off—”
“You kissed me!”
“Consider us even, then.” He closed the gap between them, and she could feel both the heat of his anger and the fabric of his trousers through her silk skirt. “You used me and I used you.”
Her gray eyes widened in dismay. Her throat went itchy and tight with emotion. Her heartached at the way he’d just ground the kiss they’d shared at the gravesite under the heel of retaliation.
Rafe gripped her shoulders and shook her, hard. “When are you going to tell Tony about me?”
Jeannie twisted, but couldn’t escape his digging fingers. “When I feel he can handle it.”
“If you think I’m going to let another day go by without claiming my son,
Señorita
Crane,” he stressed with a mocking accent, “you’ve got another think coming.”
She felt a cold chill at the realization that he could take legal action regarding Tony. “But you can’t just pop into his life after ten years and expect to take charge.”
“I’m his father!” He released her suddenly, and she stumbled backward. “I have rights!”
She caught her balance against the back of a chair and drew herself up rigidly. “You have no rights—not like this!”
His blue eyes bored through her like a diamond-point drill. “Don’t bet the ranch on it.”
Maternal instinct transformed Jeannie into a tigress, turning her into as dangerous an adversary as he. “I’ll see you in hell before I let you turn Tony’s world upside down.”
“Fine.” Rafe spun on his heel and strode across the room. At the door he pivoted and fired his parting shot. “I’ll see you in court.”
Five
The special-delivery letter came three days later.
No sooner had Jeannie returned from taking Tony to school and sat down at the desk in the office—her office now—to write the last of the thank-you notes and to pay the vet and hay bills than she heard the mail truck pull into the ranch yard.
Her fine brows drew into a frown as she got to her feet and went to the window. The Circle C was on a rural route, which meant the mail was usually deposited in the box at the end of the drive. She picked it up when she brought Tony home from school. She really couldn’t think of a reason for the sudden change in routine … unless …
With a sense of foreboding so powerful itsqueezed the breath from her lungs, she went out the door and down the porch steps to sign for the letter.
Jeannie stared at the creamy vellum envelope with the return address embossed in the upper left-hand corner for a long time before she tore it open. Her heart sank to new depths of despair as she read Rafe’s demand for parental visitation rights. This was just the beginning, she realized. Next he very well might try to take Tony away from her.
“Bad news?” Rusty had gotten a late start on riding herd that morning, claiming “Old Art,” as he referred to his chronic arthritis, had kept him up half the night. His spurs, which bore his initials in silver, jingled as he led his bay across the ranch yard on legs that had grown a little stiffer and a little less agile with every passing year.
“See for yourself.” Jeannie handed him the letter, then pressed her fingertips to her temples, attempting to ease a sledgehammer of a headache that gave new meaning to the word
pain
. She hadn’t been sleeping well, either, but not because of a physical problem. Every time she climbed into bed and
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