The Rebel's Return

“Actually, she has a group of financial advisors and company executives that handle things for her.” Carl finished off his fourth cup of coffee. “Of course, she makes all final decisions, but she doesn’t deal with the day-to-day running of Delarue, Inc. No, Maddie’s got herself an ordinary job as the events manager over at the Lone Star Country Club, and from what I hear she’s good at it, too. She’s always got something going on. Take this weekend for example. She’s put together some sort of black-tie murder-mystery gala. You know, one of those interactive things.”

“This weekend?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you going?”

“I’d planned on it.”

“Would you like for me to go with you?”

Carl beamed. “I’d love for you to go with me. It’d give me a chance to show you off.”

And it would give me a chance to see Maddie Delarue again, Dylan thought.

“Then we’ll go and make a night of it,” Dylan said. “I’ll wear one of my Armani tuxedos and we’ll drive to the club in my Porsche. I’m having it driven here.”

Carl grinned from ear to ear. “Can’t think of anything I’d like better.”

Maddie opened the French doors that led onto the second-floor balcony. As she stepped outside, the warm summer air enveloped her and the muted hum of a midsize town at midnight drifted up from below. Her plush, ultra-modern condo was located in the center of Mission Creek, and the entire complex of luxury housing belonged to her as it once had belonged to her father. As a matter of fact, her father had kept his mistress in one of the adjacent condos, then after they married, he and Renee had lived there for almost a year before they moved out of town and resettled in Corpus Christi.

It had taken her years after the divorce to forgive her father for breaking up their family, and in time she had even learned to like her stepmother. But she’d never been able to reestablish the kind of relationship with her father that she’d wanted, mostly due to the fact that her mother expected her to choose sides.

Illumination from the town brightened the dark night like soft lights on a Christmas tree. Often she stood out here and drank in the serenity of Mission Creek in slumber, peaceful and beautiful, the cares of the day laid to rest for a few brief hours. She couldn’t help thinking about all the families in all the houses in town and on the surrounding ranches. Men, women and children living perfectly normal lives and never realizing how lucky they were.

Don’t do this! An inner voice commanded. Stop wallowing in self-pity.

What was wrong with her? She had a wonderful life. She was rich—filthy rich—and relatively young and quite attractive. She had a job she enjoyed. Being the country club’s events manager might have started out as a lark, but over the years, it had become an integral part of Maddie’s life. After all, a person could be a guest at only so many social functions, head up only so many charitable organizations, take only so many holidays abroad.

Besides, with far more knowledgeable people than she taking care of Delarue, Inc., people she trusted as her father had trusted them, Maddie needed a real job of some kind. Otherwise, she would have been available twenty-four hours a day for her mother’s never-ending succession of crises.

Then again, as Nadine had said, if she had several grandchildren to dote on, to spoil rotten, then maybe she’d have something else to concentrate on other than herself.

So, what are you going to do, Maddie, marry some money-hungry Don Juan just so your mother can have grandchildren? The very thought turned her stomach. What about artificial insemination? What about adoption? Neither solution required a husband.

Off in the distance an ambulance siren wailed. It struck a sad, sobering note in the stillness of the night. Illness? Death? Another life with problems far more serious than hers? She felt almost guilty for wanting more when she already had so much. Far more than most people. But was it too much to ask for a man who would love her and her alone? Out there somewhere, there had to be a guy, rich and successful in his own right, who could look beyond the huge Delarue fortune and see the woman who longed to be loved and cherished. A man who would teach her to trust again, to believe in the happily ever after that had eluded her parents.

Where are you? Maddie whispered. Where’s the man who will sweep me off my feet and carry me away with him? Where’s a guy like Dylan Bridges when you need him?

Three

Carl Bridges had handed over his caseload to another circuit court judge three days ago, the day after Dylan arrived in Mission Creek. It was that one gesture, probably more than anything else, that showed Dylan the extent of his father’s love for him. He could waste time regretting the past, but he preferred to savor the present. After all, his father wasn’t getting any younger and Dylan suspected Carl had problems of some sort to deal with these days. He’d noticed his dad ate antacids as if they were candy. And every time the phone ran, Carl tensed. Was he expecting news from the doctor? Dylan had tried to broach the subject of what was bothering his father, but every time he did, Carl simply dismissed his suspicions as groundless.

For some crazy reason, this evening Dylan felt like a teenager getting ready for his first date. He’d been nervous all afternoon. Whenever he thought about seeing Maddie Delarue again, he reverted to a testosterone-driven sixteen-year-old. It had been years since his body had controlled him so completely.

Dylan inspected himself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Not bad, if I do say so myself, he thought. He’d had his housekeeper FedEx one of his Armani tuxedos, along with accessories. He looked exactly like what he was—a rich, successful businessman who knew how to dress well. Gone were any remnants of the long-haired bad boy whose attire had been faded jeans and a white T-shirt. He bore only a vague resemblance to that rebellious hellion. He’d stopped wearing an earring when he was twenty-two, and over the years the hole in his ear had closed. He’d grown a few inches taller and now reached a solid six feet, and he’d put on enough weight that his once lanky frame was now toned muscle.

He doubted anyone would recognize him tonight, not even Maddie, but for the fact that he’d be showing up with his dad. How tongues would wag. What would the good townspeople be saying behind his back? Once Carl started bragging about Dylan’s success, he suspected that more than one former naysayer would be surprised. He grinned at the thought. A perverse part of him wished that Jock Delarue was alive. Would Jock still think Dylan wasn’t good enough for Maddie?

“Son, you certainly look handsome.” Standing in the hall, just outside the bathroom, Carl surveyed Dylan. “I wish your mother were here. She’d be so proud of you.”

Carl still wore his everyday clothes, a pair of khaki slacks and a short-sleeved cotton shirt.

“Dad, you aren’t dressed,” Dylan said. “You’d better get a move on or we’ll be more than fashionably late.”

“I…uh…I’m not feeling very well tonight,” Carl said. “Nothing serious. I think I’ve picked up a bug of some sort.”

“Have you called your doctor?” Dylan asked.

“No. There’s no need for that. I just need to stay close to home, get a little rest. I should be fine by tomorrow.”

Dylan whipped off his bow tie. “I’ll change out of this tux and we’ll—”

“Don’t change clothes,” Carl said. “I want you to go to the country club and enjoy yourself. Tell everybody there tonight who you are. And explain that you and I have reconciled our differences and the reason I didn’t show up tonight is because I’m just a bit under the weather. I don’t want you to miss out on the fun.” Carl offered Dylan a feeble smile. “Besides, if you stay here, you won’t get to see Maddie.”

“What makes you think I want to see Maddie?” Dylan grinned.

“Just a calculated guess. It seems her name has come up in our conversations more than once these past few days.”

Dylan shrugged. “Okay, so I’m curious about her. After all, Maddie was my first love.” He laughed, but a bitter inner voice reminded him that Maddie had been his only love. The only girl who’d ever gotten under his skin.

Maddie buzzed around inside the Lone Star Country Club, issuing orders, greeting guests and double-checking everything, down to the most insignificant detail. Her detail-oriented personality lent itself well to planning and executing grand affairs. Dinner had been planned for the Empire Room, for those who came early. The Mystery Gala would be held in the ballroom on the third floor, and Maddie had assigned her new assistant, Alicia, to be in charge of the event itself, leaving Maddie free to greet guests and make sure every aspect of tonight’s extravaganza went off without a hitch. An elaborate buffet table had been set up to accommodate those who hadn’t dined in the Empire Room and for those wanting to snack throughout the evening.

Dressed in her simple yet elegant black gown, diamonds dripping from her ears and wrists, Maddie stood several feet from the entrance to the grand two-story, pink granite foyer. Using the tiled, granite fountain in the middle of the lobby as her backdrop, she smiled and spoke to each new arrival. From her vantage point in the lobby, she could see the cars lined up outside the club. Jaguars, Porsches, BMWs. Tonight, the elite of Mission Creek would take part in a fun and games party, and the proceeds from the event would be given to the Red Cross. Maddie especially enjoyed putting together charity events like this one, knowing that her efforts not only entertained the club’s members and their friends, but also provided assistance to those in need.

Joan O’Brien, the manager of Body Perfect, the ladies’ spa at the club, entered the lobby on her husband Hart’s arm. Such an attractive couple, Maddie thought, and so lucky to have found each other again. Their love story was one right out of the pages of a fairy tale—or a romance novel. During the past half dozen years or so, Joan had become one of Maddie’s best friends and she adored the O’Briens’ nine-year-old daughter. Although she wasn’t officially Helena’s godmother, she adored playing the role of “Aunt” Maddie to the hilt.

No sooner had she and Joan started chatting when Hart whisked his wife away before the onslaught of the Carson clan. The big daddy of the family, Ford Carson, a robust, belly-over-his-belt type of man with a shock of white hair and bushy eyebrows, led his plump, blond wife Grace into the lobby. Following the patriarch came Flynt and Josie, Matt and Rose, then Fiona and Cara.

Seven o’clock passed quickly, turning into seven-fifteen and finally seven-thirty. Preparing to leave her post in the lobby to go upstairs to the ballroom, Maddie noticed a sleek, black Porsche pull up under the canopied entrance to the club. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was about the man who stepped out of the car that attracted her attention. From this distance she couldn’t make out his features clearly, but there was something about the way he carried himself, a self-confidence in his stance and walk that proclaimed to one and all that he was a man to be reckoned with. Maddie shook her head. Where had those thoughts come from? She wasn’t prone to fanciful musings about perfect strangers.