Lip Service

CHAPTER THREE

SKYE FINISHED her speech to the women’s group in Austin. She’d started with a few funny stories and had ended with a couple of case studies about specific children to bring the point home. In the middle, she’d carefully layered in the painful statistics about the over twelve million children who lived in food-insecure households. A statistic her foundation wanted to change.

“I have a few minutes for questions,” she said from behind the podium.

One young woman in a red power suit stood. “Why did you pick this issue? You’re a Titan. You probably never even knew anyone who went to bed hungry.”

Skye had been asked this before and it always annoyed her. Did she have to have cancer to want to donate to that cause? She’d never been in a natural disaster, either. Did that mean the Red Cross was out of luck?

Then she reminded herself of the greater good, that the person asking the question was probably curious. Cynical, but curious.

“When my daughter was a year old,” Skye began, “she fell down the stairs and hit her head on a table. There was blood everywhere and being a good mother, I completely panicked.”

The women in the audience laughed.

Skye leaned forward. “We went to the emergency room where she was treated. While we were waiting to fill out the insurance info, I bought a box of animal crackers in the vending machine. A girl about seven or eight walked over and asked me if I was going to eat them.”

The audience faded and Skye was back to that moment in the emergency waiting room. The girl had been blond and painfully thin. Her clothes hung on her.

“I gave her the crackers and asked who she was with. She said her mother had been brought in. They lived on the street and she hadn’t eaten in three days. I asked my sister to take my daughter home and I took the girl to the cafeteria for dinner. When the social worker arrived, she wasn’t surprised by the girl’s condition. It happens far too often, in neighborhoods very close to where we live.”

Skye drew in a breath. “I went home and took care of my daughter but I couldn’t forget about that other little girl. I called the social worker and made an appointment. I wanted to talk about being a foster parent. I knew I had to do something to make a difference. But when I got to the appointment, the woman was tired and busy and told me she didn’t have any time for rich people who wanted to play at making a difference. I was a Titan. Why didn’t I do something that mattered?”

She shrugged. “I was angry and insulted, but I also thought she might be right. I had an inheritance from my mother, which became the seed money for the foundation. We feed over a million children a year. When I say feed, I don’t mean a lunch here or a Christmas dinner there. We provide one to three meals a day to over a million children right here, in this country. Our goal is to make sure no child ever goes hungry again. It’s ambitious but I believe it can be done. We can make a difference, one box of animal crackers at a time.”

She leaned toward the microphone. “What are you doing to make a difference?”

The woman in the red power suit sat down.

Questions continued for a few minutes. Afterward, Skye chatted with several of the women, took a few checks for contributions before driving to the airport where she caught the shuttle to Dallas. An hour later, she was back in at the foundation.

“You did good,” Elsa, her secretary, said as Skye walked into her office. “We’ve already had three calls from people wanting to be silver-level sponsors. I’m sending out packages today.”

Skye passed over the checks. “We’re growing,” she said. “That’s what we want. The more people interested in the problem, the more chance we have to fix it.” She shrugged out of her suit jacket and kicked off her heels. Most days she did the business casual thing, but when she was speaking, she wanted to look the part. “What did I miss?”

“Glenna wants to see you,” Elsa said. “She says it’s important. I cleared you for the next hour. Then you have a phone interview with the LA Times.”

While the foundation had an excellent PR department, nothing seemed quite so interesting to the press as speaking to an actual Titan. When she wanted to complain about the drain on her time, Skye reminded herself that she was on a mission. So what if she was inconvenienced or tired or pulled in too many directions? She was feeding hungry children. What could matter more?

“Do we have prep answers?” Skye asked.

Elsa produced a folder that would contain all the current statistics on hunger in America, information on how the foundation squeezed every penny until it screamed for mercy, their success at fund-raising and a list of ways the average person could make a difference.

“Great. Thanks. Send Glenna in.”

“Will do.”

Skye had time to finish nearly two e-mails before her managing director walked in. Glenna was a forty-something professional who knew what it took to run a successful charitable foundation. She’d been courted by every major charity in the country. Skye had been determined to win her.

“I did the lunch thing today,” Skye said as Glenna paused to close the door behind her. The other women looked concerned. “I was going to complain about it, but something tells me I shouldn’t.”

Glenna had short dark hair, sensibly cut, and an easy smile. Only she wasn’t smiling today.

“We have a problem,” she said, sitting on the opposite side of Skye’s desk. “Another one. And it’s big.”

Skye didn’t like the sound of that. A couple of months ago someone had gone to the district attorney, claiming that the foundation was a front for money laundering. Skye and her people had been cleared of all charges, but too much time and money had been spent proving they were innocent.

Glenna passed over several newspaper articles. “I downloaded these from the Internet. Two of them will appear in print over the next few days. They say that our executives are being paid excessive salaries and bonuses. Money that should be going to feed children is funding vacations, cars and parties. Supposedly you make over a million dollars.”

Skye wanted to scream. “I don’t get a salary at all,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice quiet.

“I know, as does everyone who works here. We also don’t pay bonuses of any kind. These are all lies. I’ve contacted the reporters and will be meeting with each of them. I’ll try to find out who gave this information and why they wrote about it without checking with us first. One of them claimed he did speak with someone from the foundation.”

Skye felt as if someone had hit her on the back of the head with a tire iron. “This is insane.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Glenna said. “I just wanted you to know what was going on.”

“I appreciate that. Let me know what happens.”

Glenna nodded and left.

Skye reached for the phone and dialed a familiar cell number. “Where are you?” she asked when her sister answered.

“About five minutes away. Why?”

“Can you stop by? I need to talk to you about something.”

Lexi Titan was as good as her word. Less than five minutes later she walked into Skye’s office.

“What’s up?” she asked. Lexi was the cool, blond beauty of the sisters. She owned a day spa and could easily be their spokesmodel. Her clothes were elegant, her skin perfect, her hair a shimmering cascade of ice-blond. Despite being nearly three months’ pregnant, she didn’t show at all. If they hadn’t been sisters, Skye would have found it fairly easy to dislike someone as perfect as Lexi.

But none of that mattered now. Skye stood and hugged her, then led the way to a sofa against the far wall.

“I heard from Garth again,” she said.

“Our evil half brother came acalling?”

“In a manner of speaking. Apparently the tip to the D.A. about the foundation laundering money was only the first part of his attack. Now he’s got someone telling reporters that we pay excessive salaries and bonuses, not to mention fund staff vacations.”

Lexi took the papers Skye held out but didn’t read them. “We knew something like this was going to happen. We knew his campaign was just beginning.”

A few months ago the sisters had received their first threat from Garth Duncan. At the beginning they couldn’t figure out why the successful businessman would care about them. A little digging had produced an unbelievable fact. He was their half brother, and Jed Titan’s bastard.

Although Jed claimed Garth and his mother had been given a generous trust fund that should have taken care of them for life, Garth was out for blood. Or at the very least, the destruction of the Titans. He’d waged business and personal attacks on Lexi and Skye, along with Jed. And the hits kept on coming.

“Glenna is looking into this,” Skye said. “But these reporters aren’t stupid. They would check their facts. Which meant Garth was able to give them the information in such a way that they believed it.” She felt sick to her stomach. “Can’t he go pick on someone else? Does it have to be us?”

“We’re the family he never had,” Lexi reminded her. “He’s angry. I just wish I knew what had triggered all this. Why now? Why wait so long to start?”

“He’s certainly moving forward with whatever plan he has. This one is especially good. The D.A. won’t get involved, but the IRS will. His claims put our nonprofit status at risk. Worse, who will want to donate? Being bad is always front-page news, but the retraction comes much later and on the back page. No one remembers that. They just remember the charges.”

Frustration flared inside of her. “I will accept that for some reason Garth hates us. But children will go hungry because of his actions. Doesn’t that matter?”

Lexi shook her head. “Not to him.”

Skye stood and crossed to the window. “This is beyond frustrating. I have worked my butt off here. I wanted to make a difference and I have. When the rest of my life is in the toilet, the foundation reminds me of what is important. That at the end of the day, I can count the meals we served and the lives we made better. I won’t let him take that from me or from those kids.”

Lexi stood and moved toward her. “He’s not going to win. We won’t let him.” She hugged Skye. “We’re the Titan girls. Nobody screws with us.”

“Garth didn’t get the memo.”

“Then we’ll send another one.”

“Okay. Just give me a minute and I’ll be feisty again.”

“We’ll get him. One way or another.”

“I know.”

They returned to the sofas. Lexi sat across from Skye.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” she asked. “You don’t usually let things get to you. You’re as much a fighter as any of us.”

Skye leaned back in the cushions. “There’s a lot going on right now. I’m a little distracted. It’ll get better.” She hesitated. “Mitch is back. I’ve seen him.”

Lexi stared at her. “Oh my God! What happened. How is he?”

“I’m not sure. He’s different. I know it’s been years and he’s been through a lot. But I didn’t think…” That he would turn mean, she thought, knowing she couldn’t say that. She loved her sister and trusted her completely, but she wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened.

“He’s someone I used to know, right? Just a guy from my past.”

“You keep saying that,” Lexi said, her voice gentle. “As if you’re trying to convince us he doesn’t matter. But the fact that he has you rattled means that he does matter. At least a little.”

“I don’t want him to.”

“Maybe you don’t get a choice.” Lexi smiled. “Look, he was your first love, your first lover. The relationship didn’t end on its own. It was emotionally violent for both of you. You were wrenched apart.”

“Because of me,” Skye said bitterly. “Mitch sure remembers that.”

“You hurt him.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” She glared at Lexi, daring her to say she did. That there were always choices. But it was easy to be critical from far away. Skye had lost her mother when she was only ten; she would have done anything to keep her father—that included giving up Mitch.

“I know,” Lexi said. “But Mitch could never understand. There was an intensity between the two of you. It’s not surprising you were both hurt.”

“When did you get sensible?” Skye grumbled. “I want to be the sensible one.”

“You will be. Just not about this. I couldn’t be rational about Cruz for a minute.”

Just speaking her fiancé’s name made Lexi glow. Skye did her best not to be envious, but it was hard. Love should be powerful and compelling—like she’d had with Mitch all those years ago. She’d loved her husband, but it had never been the same all-consuming passion. She had adored Ray, but she’d burned for Mitch…long after she should have. Yet another guilty secret, she thought sadly.

“You were young,” Lexi said. “It was a long time ago. Give yourself a break.”

“Because you think I made the wrong choice?” Skye asked. “I don’t. I did what I had to. What was right.”

“I know.”

Lexi said the words, but Skye wasn’t sure she believed them. Skye had given up love to play it safe. Who did that? Didn’t she deserve the consequences of her actions?

“To give up Ray would have meant giving up Erin. She’s my daughter. I can’t imagine life without her.”

“I know,” Lexi said. “She’s amazing. You’re lucky to have her. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

“Yes,” Skye murmured. A few months ago her life had been boring and familiar. Now there was very little she could count on.

“As for Mitch,” Lexi continued. “Why worry about him? It’s not as if you’re going to be seeing that much of him.”

“You’re right. I know he’s back, we spoke, end of story. It’s not as if we’re going to be running into each other very often.”

IT WAS a little after four when Skye heard yelling just outside her office. She stood to investigate, but before she could cross the room, the door burst open and Mitch stalked inside. Elsa ran alongside him, trying to get in front.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I explained you were busy, but he insisted.”

From the angry look on Mitch’s face, he’d done more than insist.

“Don’t worry about it,” Skye told her assistant. “Mitch and I are old friends. I’m happy to see him.”

Elsa didn’t seem convinced, but nodded and backed out of the room.

“Have a seat,” Skye said, pointing to the chair by her desk.

“No, thanks. This won’t take long.”

He looked good, she thought, taking in the jeans and white shirt. Furious but good. His color was better than the last time she’d seen him and the lines of pain around his eyes had eased.

Despite everything that had happened, despite what he’d said, she was happy to see him. She wanted to go to him and hold him. She wanted to do a whole lot more than that, which probably meant she needed some intensive therapy or at the very least a self-help book with a snappy title.

“You’re obviously pissed off,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Which I find interesting. If anyone has the right to be mad, it’s me.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked.

“Is that a trick question?”

He ignored her. “I had an interesting visitor at breakfast Saturday morning. Erin.”

Skye opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t sure what to say. Erin had breakfast with Fidela most weekends. If Skye was up, they would ride over together. If not, Arturo came and got the little girl. It was a tradition, one that Erin treasured.

“Let me guess,” Skye said bitterly. “You object to my daughter being on the ranch. Give it a rest, Mitch. I know you’re adjusting and that you’re dealing with an incredibly unfair situation, but Erin has nothing to do with that. She and Fidela adore each other. She’s like their granddaughter. They don’t have kids of their own. You were like their son, so even you should understand. Don’t tell me that Erin can’t go over there anymore.”

“Is that what you think this is about?” he asked. “Your kid eating pancakes with Fidela?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously. “What else is there?”

“Interesting question. Erin invited me to her birthday party. She’s turning eight.”

“Okay.”

He took a step toward her. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t get it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked like he wanted to rip her into tiny pieces. But for what? Her daughter turning eight?

“She told me when her birthday is,” he said, his voice filled with rage. “I did the math. When the hell were you going to tell me that Erin is my daughter?”

The room shifted. Had they been in California, Skye would have assumed this was the big one. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think and, even through the wild disbelief, she ached for him. For the pain she was about to cause.

“Don’t pretend you’re surprised,” he told her. “I know the last time we had sex, kid. It was right after I proposed.”

“I remember,” she said. She remembered everything about that night and the day that followed. “Oh, Mitch. No.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t bother pretending she’s not mine.”

“She’s not,” she whispered.

His expression tightened. “Bullshit. Either she’s mine or you’re a whore.”

She felt as if he’d hit her. “Those are not my only two choices.”

“What else is there? If Erin is Ray’s kid, then you jumped into bed with that old man, what? Two days later? You putting out on the first date now, Skye?” His mouth twisted. “Maybe you are. These days you don’t even require a date. Just a private spot in the sun and a willing guy.”

She raised her hand to slap him. He grabbed her by the wrist and held on hard enough to bruise.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his eyes blazing. “Did you like fucking the old man?”

Tears burned in her eyes. She pulled free of him and stepped back. Her throat felt tight, as if she would never be able to swallow again.

It hadn’t been the first date, but the third and she’d cried the whole time. She’d slept with Ray to find out if she could. He’d held her and told her he’d never meant to hurt her. That he always thought she was special but if the idea of being with him was so disgusting, he would walk away.

He’d been kind and understanding. Sure, he’d wanted an eighteen-year-old bride, but he hadn’t been a jerk about it. She’d been tempted to tell Ray that she would never love anyone but Mitch. But Jed had taken her aside and warned her that if she refused Ray, not only would she be dead to him, but that he would destroy the Cassidy Ranch. He would take Mitch’s inheritance and erase it from the face of the earth.

She’d believed him but she’d still longed for Mitch. In the end circumstances had made the decision for her. She’d been pregnant with Ray’s baby. Just over seven months later, Erin had been born—five weeks premature.

Now she sucked in a breath, wiped away her tears and faced Mitch.

“Erin isn’t yours,” she said clearly.

“I don’t believe you and I’ll destroy you for keeping her from me.”

“You’ll have to prove it first.”

“I want a DNA test. If you don’t agree, I’m willing to go to court to get it.”

A part of her understood. Given their past and the timing of events, it made sense that he thought Erin could be his. A part of her had always wished she was. It was a secret she’d kept from Ray, one that had shamed her. But she’d been unable to let it go.

Mitch’s choices were simple. Erin was his or the woman he’d loved had betrayed him.

She thought about explaining that Erin had a birthmark on the small of her back. A tiny half-moon stain that Ray and all his other children shared. She doubted Mitch would believe her.

“I’ll agree to a DNA test on the condition that you keep this to yourself,” she said quietly. “You won’t discuss it with Erin. I don’t want her hurt.”

“You’re not in a position to dictate terms.”

She raised her chin. “Erin is my daughter. She’s a child and doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this. If you really think she’s yours, you shouldn’t want her hurt or confused. She can’t know until we have the results.”

Mitch’s dark eyes gave nothing away. “Agreed. I’ll call a lab and have someone stop by.”

He turned and left without saying anything else. She watched him go. He walked slowly but steadily. If she hadn’t known about the prosthesis, she might not have guessed there was anything wrong.

When she was alone, she sank into her chair and closed her eyes. She hadn’t expected this. Didn’t he know her well enough to believe she wouldn’t keep his child from him?

Obviously not, she thought sadly. He believed the worst about her. When he found out the truth about Erin, he would know that she, Skye, hadn’t been lying. But she had a bad feeling that wasn’t going to make an already difficult situation any better.

MITCH STOOD in the center of the stable. The smell of horse and hay was exactly as he remembered, but he felt completely out of place. What he had once taken for granted now only served to point out everything he couldn’t do. Ride? He couldn’t get on a horse, let alone guide it.

Riding should have been easy. He could use a mount, so he didn’t have to push off with his left leg as he swung his right leg over the saddle. But he was unable to balance on his prosthesis. Once on the horse, he wouldn’t have the control to use his left heel.

Frustration, never far away, bubbled to the surface. What was he supposed to do with himself now? Ride around in the truck, like an old man?

“I have something for you.”

He turned toward the voice and saw Arturo leading a bay into the barn. The gelding was big and moved easily.

Mitch took a step back. His heel caught in the wood floor and he nearly fell into the hay.

“This is Bullet,” Arturo said, stroking the horse’s nose. “He’s been trained so you can mount him on the right side. You also only need to use your right heel. He’s strong and fast, with a bit of a temper. I thought you two would have that in common.”

Mitch curled his hands into fists. “I don’t need your help,” he growled.

“Maybe not, but I’m offering it. Besides, I used your money to buy him.”

That should have made him smile, but Mitch was beyond humor. He hated everything about the ranch. The chickens, the organic beef with every single thing about their lives documented. He hated how the socks on his stump were soaked with blood every night and how the nightmares kept him from sleeping. He hated that he’d been so grateful to be alive only to find out nothing about his life was how he wanted it.

“You want to ride again,” Arturo told him. “I know you do.”

“Stay out of my life.”

The old man’s mouth tightened. “Fine,” he said, and dropped the reins. He walked out, leaving Mitch and the horse alone in the barn.

Mitch felt like an ass. He knew Arturo was only trying to help, but there were—

He heard footsteps and was surprised Arturo had returned. But when he looked toward the entrance he saw a different silhouette.

“You’re even more of a bastard than I thought,” Skye said as she moved into the barn. “Does it make you feel like a man to hurt people who love you?”

She was the last person he wanted to see. Worse, she’d witnessed a part of him he had trouble controlling.

“He loves you,” she said. “He wants you to know that.” She patted the horse’s neck. “Come on, Mitch. Why is that so bad?”

“Arturo is fine. He can take care of himself.”

“You’re his family. He shouldn’t have to.”

“Get out,” he told her.

She moved closer, until she stood right in front of him. “Are you going to make me? You’ve pretty much peaked on crappy things to say to me. So what’s left?” She raised her chin. “Want to hit me? It seems that you want to hit somebody. Why not me? Don’t I deserve it?”

“Do you like it rough these days?” he sneered.

She flushed but held her ground. “I know that certain parts of your life suck, but you got to come home. That counts. You have people who are thrilled you’re back. That counts more. What I want to know is, do you have a timetable on the pity party? Or is it playing indefinitely?”

“Right. Because it’s so easy for you to judge from your perfect life. Want to trade, Skye? Want to give up a leg or an arm? Live with that for a while and then we’ll talk.”

“You are so full of crap,” she said. “This isn’t about your leg. This is about you.”

He wanted to crush her. He wanted to take her and make her beg. He wanted her naked and vulnerable and then he wanted to walk away.

She stared into his eyes as if daring him to do everything he was thinking. Finally she drew a breath.

“Erin has provided her DNA sample. Anytime you’re ready, you can do the same. Then we’ll be done.”

“Erin’s mine. We’re only starting. I’m spending my nights thinking of all the ways I’m going to punish you for what you’ve done to me.”

Sadness invaded her green eyes. “If hating me gives you strength, then go for it. But I will warn you not to get too excited about taking me on. Erin’s not yours, Mitch. No matter how much you want her to be, she’s not. And if calling me a whore makes that easier to bear, then go for it. Just remember this. That little girl thinks you’re a hero. If you give her one reason to believe otherwise, I will make you regret being born.”

That made him smile. “You really think you can?”

“Absolutely. You’re so far down, you don’t care if you live or die. I have something to fight for. My daughter.”

She left then, her back straight, her long red hair beckoning. He watched her go, admiring her spirit, however delusional. There would only be one winner in this game and it was going to be him.