The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) (9 page)

“I’d love to have lunch with you,” she said to Donnie with a bright smile.

“May I join you?” a voice said from over her shoulder.

Kate was annoyed at the interruption and turned to tell the obnoxious man on her right to get lost. For the first time, she got a good look at his face. Her jaw dropped, and she gaped like a teenager at a convention of rock stars.

“You’re Jack McKinley,” she said with awe.

“Guilty,” he said, flashing her a smile so charming, and so incredibly white against his tanned skin, that she could see how he’d become the playboy he reputedly was.

“I’m Kate Grayhawk,” Kate volunteered.

“I know your uncle North,” Jack said. “We played football together at UT.”

“I know,” Kate said. But she’d never seen Jack McKinley in the flesh. Flustered, she gestured toward Donnie and said, “This is Donnie Brown.” Kate debated whether to mention Donnie was Bomber Brown’s son but decided against it. By then, Jack and Donnie had shaken hands.

Kate couldn’t seem to stop staring at Jack. He was wearing an open-throated, starched white cotton shirt with a black suit coat, a pair of creased jeans, a black leather belt and black alligator cowboy boots. He looked powerful and confident and good enough to eat.

But Kate wasn’t sure whether she ought to be nice to him because when Jack had become the quarterback for the Texas Longhorns his freshman year at UT, he’d done so by taking the job away from her uncle. Uncle North had mentored the kid who’d stolen his position, and Jack had later thanked North publicly for his help. But North had ended up going home to Jackson Hole after graduation, while Jack went on to play professional football.

Jack must be thirty-two, since he was four years younger than Uncle North, and she knew from the game stats that he was six foot three. He looked just as lean and strong as he must have been when he’d played professional football ten years ago. He had sun-streaked chestnut hair and inscrutable dark brown eyes that were watching her so intently, she felt flustered.

Then Kate remembered the other important fact she knew about Jack McKinley. He’d retired at the peak of his career due to a gambling scandal—right after his team lost the Super Bowl. Accusations had flown that Jack had thrown the game. It was said his teammates refused to play with him again. Nothing had ever been proven, and no charges had ever been brought.

“Are we going, or not?” Donnie said.

“Why don’t we all go?” Jack suggested. “You can have lunch on me at my place.”

“Your place?” Kate said.

“I own a sports bar not far from here.”

Kate was dying of curiosity about Jack, and not just because he made her heart rate kick into another gear. She was sure Uncle North would want to know what he was doing these days. She turned to Donnie and said, “You don’t mind, do you?”

Donnie hesitated. “Having lunch with Jack McKinley? I guess not.” He looked at Jack. “You’re famous, man.”

Kate saw Jack’s high cheekbones flush and realized that he must be as famous for the scandal as he was for his prowess on the football field. To her surprise, she felt sorry for him. “It looks like we’re all agreed,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Jack’s place was called the Longhorn Grille and it seemed pretty upscale for a sports bar, with white table-cloths and crystal glasses and fancy silverware. Kate realized it was close enough to the state capitol to cater to the political crowd for lunch during the week. In fact, as they entered, Jack greeted the lieutenant governor and a number of state senators and congressmen.

Kate could see Donnie was as impressed as she was. The hostess ushered them to a table by the front window, which had a view of the pink marble capitol building, and a waitress appeared at Jack’s elbow a moment later.

Jack ordered a beer for himself and asked, “What will you folks have?”

Donnie said, “I’ll have a beer, too.”

“How old are you?” Jack asked.

“Twenty-two,” Donnie said.

Jack looked at him askance. “You have ID?”

Donnie smiled and ducked his head shyly. “All right, so I’m nineteen. I figured you own the place, so—”

“So I don’t want to lose my liquor license,” Jack said. “No beer.”

Donnie shrugged and said. “Sure, I understand,” then told the waitress, “I’ll have a Sprite.”

“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Kate said.

“You don’t need to diet,” Donnie said gallantly, his admiration obvious.

Kate blushed and said, “Thank you, Donnie.” However blatant it was, Donnie’s attention gave her hope that he might ask her for a date. She needed that date to convince her parents she was considering a relationship with Bomber Brown’s son.

A moment later, Donnie’s attention was focused on Jack as he asked, “So tell me, did you do it?”

Kate saw the tension in Jack’s shoulders and watched his jaw muscles flex. She waited with bated breath for the answer to a question she would never have dared to ask.

At that moment they were interrupted by the waitress, who’d returned with their drinks. After she left the table, Donnie said, “Well?”

“I don’t answer that question,” Jack replied.

“Not even to deny it?” Kate asked.

“I shouldn’t have to deny it,” Jack said.

Kate realized the slight flush had returned to his cheekbones.

“My dad knows exactly how it feels to be accused of something and not be able to prove you’re innocent,” Donnie said before taking a swallow of his Sprite.

Kate watched Jack’s hand ball into a fist on the table, but he didn’t try to defend himself or explain himself. She supposed he must have learned over the years that people were going to believe what they wanted to believe, and there was nothing he could say that was going to change their minds.

“I guess it took a lot of money to set up a nice place like this,” Donnie said, looking around.

Jack didn’t answer what hadn’t really been a question, but Kate watched that muscle in his jaw work again. “Is this what you’ve been doing since you retired from football?” she asked. “I’ve wondered what a pro football player does with his life once he’s done playing.”

“Everyone finds his own way of moving on,” Jack said. “This is mine.”

Kate looked at the sports memorabilia hanging all around them on the walls, jerseys signed by Hall of Fame players and everything from football helmets to hockey sticks. “Pretty impressive,” she said. “Do you know all these guys?”

Jack shrugged. “Some of them. The rest I bought from collectors.”

“I’ll bet your signature is worth a lot,” Donnie said. “You being so notorious and all.”

“I don’t do autographs,” Jack said.

“That would make having one even more valuable,” Donnie said with an engaging grin. He took a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket and thrust them toward Jack. “How about it?”

“No.” Just that one word, spoken in a voice that would have chilled the blood of anyone less oblivious than Donnie seemed to be.

Kate picked up the notebook and pen and handed them back to Donnie with a smile meant to soften the blow. “You heard the man. No autographs. He’s picking up the tab for lunch. That ought to be enough.”

For a moment, Kate thought Donnie would protest. Instead, he picked up his Sprite and drained it. When he set it down, he reached into his pocket for a couple of dollars and threw them down on the table. Then he looked Jack in the eye and said, “It was really great meeting you, and I’d really like to stick around for lunch, but I don’t want anyone accused of shaving points buying anything for me. You know what they say about birds of a feather. I have to be careful. The press is watching everything I do. You ready to go, Kate?”

Kate was surprised by Donnie’s remarks and his sudden decision to leave. Until it dawned on her that Donnie hadn’t been as interested or excited about the fact that Jack was
famous
so much as the fact that he was
notorious
. She supposed the son of an accused bomber probably did have to be careful about what kind of people he consorted with, for fear of being tarred with the same brush that had blackened his father’s name.

Kate realized she ought to go with Donnie, if she wanted to establish a relationship that would rattle her parents. But she felt sick at the look that flashed in Jack’s eyes. So she said, “I think I’ll stay.”

“Your choice,” Donnie said as he rose and threw his cloth napkin onto the table. “See you in court.”

Kate realized she very likely would see him in court. And that they weren’t likely to be friends when they met, if she stayed with Jack. Which probably meant a date was out of the question.

“Damn,” she muttered as Donnie headed for the door. “I needed him!”

“A kid like that’s not worth your time and trouble,” Jack said.

“I still needed him.”

Jack shot her a quizzical look. “What for?”

“I can’t explain. It’s too complicated.”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Jack said, taking a sip of his beer. “And I’ve got broad shoulders.”

He certainly did, Kate thought. And slim hips and very long legs. And a face that was hewed in stone and could have belonged to a Greek god. But who was looking? She certainly couldn’t hope to attract someone as sophisticated and worldly as Jack McKinley. Even though she found him breathtakingly attractive.

“I wanted to date him because I was sure my mom and dad would disapprove,” she said.

Jack laughed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“I’m listening.”

Kate was glad that being illegitimate didn’t have the same stigma these days that it had in days gone by. And yet, she was surprisingly reluctant to admit to this attractive and compelling man that her parents had never been married. Her secret had been well kept because of the threat to her father’s political career if the truth of her birth ever came out. Now that he’d retired from politics, that was no longer necessary.

“Do you know who I am? I mean, that I’m Clay Blackthorne’s daughter?”

“And Libby Grayhawk’s daughter,” he said. “I recognized you from a picture North has at his ranch. He told me about your parents. That’s a bum deal for you.”

Kate was surprised North would have shared that information with Jack. “North only bought that ranch a couple of years ago,” Kate said. “When were you there?”

“Actually, I’ve been hanging out there quite a bit the past couple of weeks.”

“I was with North two weeks ago,” Kate said. “I didn’t see you.”

“I’ve been hiding out at the foreman’s house,” Jack admitted.

“Hiding out?” Kate said with alarm. “From what?”

Jack shot her one of those charming grins and said, “The tax man.”

“You’re hiding from the IRS?”

Jack shrugged. “They’re claiming some discrepancies between what they say I earned and what I paid in taxes.” He looked around and said, “They want to take this place from me to pay back taxes plus some serious penalties and interest.”

Kate could see how Jack’s past wouldn’t exactly help him in a situation like this. Donnie’s reaction was very likely typical. If you’d cheated once, you’d probably cheat again. “It must be awful,” she said.

Jack didn’t even pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about. He simply said, “It is.”

She didn’t insult him by asking if he’d cheated on his taxes. Somehow she knew he hadn’t. Which made no sense, because the whole world believed he’d shaved points in the Super Bowl.

Then she realized why she believed in Jack’s honesty. Because he had been—still was, apparently—North’s friend. It was impossible to believe her infallible uncle could be fooled by anyone.

It was the man’s charm that worried her. Maybe he had North—and a lot of other people—bamboozled. Because, despite his tarnished reputation, Jack had managed to run a successful sports bar where the political powers of the state felt comfortable having lunch. She would have given a great deal to know whether he was honest or not.

“I didn’t know you and North kept in touch,” Kate said.

“We didn’t,” Jack said. “This situation just came up and we happened to cross paths and he offered to help me out.”

“You can’t really hide from the IRS, can you?” Kate said.

“Not for long,” Jack conceded. “I just need time to collect some documentation to help me prove my case.” He smiled again and said, “You let me get distracted from your problem. How can I help?”

“How are you at performing miracles?” she asked.

“I did it all the time on the football field,” he said. “I was famous for it.”

Kate grimaced. “I don’t think my problem can be solved by throwing a touchdown pass. I need some disaster—not a real one—to get my mother, who lives in Jackson Hole, down here, something that requires her to talk to my father.”

“Will I do?”

Kate’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You were going to date Bomber Boy. How about me, instead?”

She eyed Jack suspiciously. “Did my uncle send you to that courtroom today? I mean, that’s pretty coincidental, you showing up like you did.”