"Listen, maybe you guys can horse around all day," Gage snapped, "but I've got things to do."
"Right," Slade said, after a minute. "Uh, look, Trav's already laid out the agenda. What are we going to do about this command performance the old man's got planned for the middle of the month?"
"Ignore it," Gage said firmly. "I've got-"
"Things to do," Travis said. "Yeah, I know. And I don't have any greater desire to go back to Espada for a dress rehearsal of King Lear than either of you guys, but-"
"Lear?" Slade said, sounding puzzled. "Hey, this is Texas we're talking about, not Stratford-on-Avon."
"Come on, Slade, you know what this is all about." Travis frowned and wondered how come he hadn't seen it sooner. "Jonas is starting to feel mortal."
"Our father's figuring on making it to one hundred, and you know what? My money's on him."
"Yeah, but I bet the old boy's looking around, taking stock of that little spread of seven zillion acres he calls home, sweet home, and figuring it's time he made plans on how to divvy up the kingdom."
"Well, I don't need to spend a miserable weekend on Espada to know that I don't give a damn how he does it," Gage said gruffly. "You two enjoy the party without me."
"Hold it right there, pal." Slade's voice rang with indignation. "I'm going to be in Baltimore that weekend."
"Or in the Antarctic," Travis said lazily, "anywhere it takes to avoid this shindig, right?"
"Wrong. I put in eight weeks on plans for a new bank, and I am not going to-"
"Dammit, Slade..." Travis took a deep breath, then blew it out. "Sorry, kid. I have no right to twist your arm."
"Forget it. Truth is, I was lying through my teeth. I could get out of the Baltimore thing, if I wanted."
"Amazing," Gage said softly. "Three grown men, all of us falling over our own feet in a rush to keep clear of the place where we grew up."
They talked some more, even laughed a little. Then Travis cleared his throat.
"The thing is, eighty-five is a pretty impressive number."
"The old man was never impressed by other numbers," Gage said bitterly. "Your eighteenth birthday. Slade's two years in grad school."
"Or your big fifth anniversary party," Travis said, "but what the hell, gentlemen, we're bigger than that, right?" Groans greeted the announcement, but Travis was undeterred. "We're young, he's old. That's a simple fact." His voice softened. "And then there's Caitlin."
"Yeah." Slade sighed. "I do hate to disappoint her."
"Me, too. But I just don't see a choice here," Gage muttered.
"Exactly," Travis said, in the tone of reason that had made him such a successful attorney. "There isn't any choice. The way I see it, we have to show up."
"No way," two voices said, in unison.
"Look, we're not kids anymore. Jonas can't get under our skin and make us miserable." Travis paused. He was pushing, he knew, but Catie really would be heartbroken if they didn't show. And, dammit, selfish or not, he needed this weekend with his brothers. "Think of the plus side. We get to swap war stories and put a smile on Catie's face at the same time. Is that really so much to ask?"
There was a long silence, and then Slade sighed. "Okay, count me in."
"Not me," Gage said. "I don't have a weekend to spare."
"Gage," Travis said, "look-"
"No, you look! I'm too busy for this stuff. I have some sensitive things going on here. You got that, or do I have to put it on a billboard in Times... Oh, hell. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. But I can't go. I just can't."
"Sure," Travis said, after a minute.
"Understood," Slade said, a beat later. "Well..."
There was silence, the sound of a throat being cleared. "Well," three voices said, and then there were hurried goodbyes and the brothers all disconnected. Travis waited a couple of seconds, then punched in Gage's number.
"Listen," he said, as soon as he heard his brother's voice, "if there's a problem on your end-"
Gage, sounding matter-of-fact, assured him there wasn't.
"Yeah, well, if there should be-"
"I'll call you."
Travis nodded, hit his phone's Off button, then waited for it to ring.
"I called him back," Slade said, without bothering to say hello.
"Uh-huh. So did I."
"Something's wrong, Trav. I've never heard Gage sound like that."
"Yeah. But whatever it is, he doesn't want to talk about it."
"Trav? You don't think there could be trouble between Gage and Natalie, do you?"
"No way. That marriage was made in heaven. Natalie's wonderful." Travis's tone flattened. "She's not the sort of woman who'd ever make a man jump through hoops. She's like an open book. No games, no secrets..."
"Tell me about it," Slade said, with a little laugh.
"They're all impossible." Travis leaned his elbows on the deck's cedar railing. "They run hot, they run cold. A man never knows what to expect."
"You've got that right," Slade said darkly. "No matter what you say or do, it's never enough." He hesitated. "So, are we talking about your ex?"
"No, we're not. And, before you ask, I don't feel like discussing it any further."
"Suit yourself, pal."
"Slade?" Travis's voice softened. "I'm looking forward to seeing you, kid."
He could almost see his brother smile. "Yeah," Slade said gruffly, "me, too."
Travis hung up and walked out on the deck. It was a beautiful morning. Bright sunshine, blue sky, and the aqua waters of the ocean rolling out toward infinity. He felt better, now that he'd spoken with his brothers. And he was glad he hadn't asked a woman to join him here. Whatever else he was when it came to women, he wasn't a user. He never took more than he gave.
It was too bad the same couldn't be said of Alexandra Thorpe.
Travis's expression hardened. Was that what the Thorpe babe did for kicks? Offered a man a glimpse of Paradise, teased him until he went beyond caring, beyond sanity, then turned and walked away?
It was a dangerous thing to do, something that could turn violent if she picked the wrong guy. But she probably chose her victims carefully. They wouldn't be bar pickups, or men she met in casual encounters. There were too many unknowns that way. She would come on to men like him, ones who were successful and prominent. Men she could toy with but not fear.
His mouth narrowed. He'd never understood it, when men said they knew just what a woman needed, but he understood it now. He could feel the tension twisting inside him again. Calm down, he told himself. Take it easy...
The hell with that. The Ice Princess had picked the wrong sucker this time. Travis went back into the bedroom and reached for the phone.
She wasn't listed, but he hadn't expected her to be. Barbara Rhodes was. If she was surprised to hear from him so early in the morning, she covered it well, but she couldn't disguise her surprise at his request.
"I'm not supposed to do this, Mr. Baron," she said.
"Of course not," Travis said pleasantly. "And it shouldn't be necessary. Ms. Thorpe gave me her address and phone number on a scrap of paper but I managed to misplace it." He dropped his voice and did his best to sound boyish, and charming. "I'm sure you understand that I wouldn't want her to know that."
Minutes later, Travis was in his Porsche, roaring along the back roads toward the canyons high above Los Angeles.
CHAPTER FIVE
HIGH above Eagle Canyon, in a house her grandfather had built and her father, and then her husband, had dominated, Alexandra Thorpe was having breakfast in her garden.
Having breakfast in her garden was a first-time event, one Alex was savoring with almost guilty pleasure.
She had slept badly. She'd tossed and turned and dreamed, though she couldn't remember what she'd dreamed, only that she'd come awake, heart-racing, somewhere around five-thirty.
Enough, she'd thought firmly, was enough and, since it was so early, she'd come down the ornate staircase of Thorpe House still in her nightgown, then padded barefoot across the cold stone floor of the huge entry hall, to the kitchen.
The big room was silent. Not even Luisa was stirring so early. Alex had taken a container of orange juice out of the refrigerator but when her gaze fell on a can of coffee, she knew that was what she really wanted. Still, she'd hesitated. The kitchen was the servants' domain. Well, Luisa's, now that her father was gone and Carl was, too, and she'd gotten rid of the maid and butler and chauffeur who'd made Thorpe House run. That the kitchen was off limits to Thorpes-and to Stuarts-wasn't a rule, it was simply an understanding.