simply her shampoo. She didn’t strike him as a woman who spent time preening and powdering. There was something effortlessly earthy and natural about her and it had an unexpected effect on him. He knew prettier women. Dated and slept with them whenever the mood took him. But he always kept it casual. No commitment, no deep feelings. Sex and company. That was his mantra. Once the need started he bailed. Because of that he generally dated a certain kind of woman—someone with the same outlook he had. Someone who lived to work and didn’t expect too much of his time and attention. It was superficial, shallow and exactly what he wanted. Exactly what suited him. One day, he figured he’d settle down. He wanted a family of his own at some point. He’d find the right woman and get married and have a couple of kids with someone who understood him. And small town girls with big eyes, sweet smiles and freckles were not part of that agenda.
Not ever.
He watched as Brooke headed straight for the crib. She hung back at first, almost hesitating, until Cara responded and held out her chubby arms and then Brooke gently lifted her up. He watched silently, witnessing the bond that was becoming evident. Blood ties. He’d never felt it. Never known it.
But blood and family were obviously important to Brooke.
“Have you heard from your brother?” he asked and closed the door.
She looked across the room and the smile she’d given Cara faded slightly. “Not yet. I sent another message this morning. He’ll call... I’m sure of it. And once he knows about this darling girl I know he’ll come back.”
Tyler wasn’t so sure. Oh, he knew Cara should bring Matthew back home. But Matt Laughton didn’t strike him as a young man who was swayed by what he should do. However, he’d made a commitment to Yelena to give the other man a chance to do what was right. And he would. For the moment.
“I hope you’re right,” he said quietly and watched as Brooke cradled the baby on her hip and began talking to her.
After a moment, as though aware she was being observed, she met his gaze. “She’s so beautiful. Her eyes are—”
“Like yours,” Tyler said quietly. “The same color.”
She nodded, like it pleased her. “She looks like Matt did when he was a baby. My mom said he was way too pretty to be a little boy,” she said and laughed softly. “I always liked to tease him about that when we were growing up.”
“You were close?”
She shrugged a little. “I guess. I’m eight years older than him so I was very much the big sister. But yeah, we were close... I mean...until he left when our...when...”
“When your parents were killed?”
Her eyes darkened. “Yeah...then.”
He knew her parents had been dead for five years. Knew Matthew had been driving the car that afternoon. But he was interested in knowing the details. “Would you tell me what happened?”
She sat down on the small couch and held Cara in her arms. The baby gurgled and laughed and Brooke’s expression was one of pure delight. Something uncurled in his chest, a strange sensation that was rooted deep down. He’d never been sentimental or allowed himself to get close to anyone and he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. Nor did he want to.
After a moment she looked up. “I’m pretty sure you already know.”
“I know what the case file says,” he replied. “I know Matthew was driving the car and that he crashed and your parents were killed instantly.”
“Then you know everything.”
“Really?”
She shrugged again, harder this time. “He was driving, but the accident was not his fault. There was another driver who—”
“I don’t recall another driver being mentioned in the file I read.”
“No,” she said and grimaced. “You won’t. The driver fled the scene.”
“And no charges were ever filed?”
Brooke rocked the baby gently and met his gaze for just a moment. “It’s complicated. And really none of your concern.”
“If it’s the reason why your brother is reluctant to return home then it is my concern.”
“Matthew doesn’t come home because he feels guilty,” she said, hostility flashing in her eyes. “Our parents were killed. So was Sky Dancer. Matt couldn’t get past the—”
“Sky Dancer?” Tyler queried, remembering the file had mentioned something about a horse being killed in the crash. “That’s the horse that was killed?”
“He wasn’t just a horse. He was our foundation stallion,” she explained. “The ranch used to be renowned across the state for its quarter horses. Sky Dancer was the stallion that my father built that breeding program on. Without my father and Sky Dancer the ranch stopped being a working horse ranch and instead...”
“Instead?” he prompted.
She sighed. “Instead it became a place where I give trail rides to tourists in summer and run a few dozen head of cattle to try and keep the place solvent.”
Her voice held all the disappointment of dreams lost and something unexpected uncurled in his chest.
Tyler didn’t do sympathy. His job taught him to be impartial and detached. But Brooke Laughton’s haunted indigo eyes were hard to stay out of. “And do you want to return it to what it once was?”
She sighed again and rocked the now chattering baby on her knee. “Of course. One day I’ll buy Cloud Dancer and I’ll be able to—”
“Cloud Dancer?” he inquired, one brow raised.
“Sky Dancer’s grandson,” she replied. “He’s on the show circuit at the moment but lives on a ranch in Montana. He’s every bit the horse his grandfather was...same strong lines, same unflappable temperament. When I was competing I rode him several times and he always gave his all.”
Tyler was uncharacteristically mesmerized by the passion in her voice. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone brightly, like he’d struck a nerve with the mention of horses. He vaguely remembered Yelena telling him that Brooke used to be a professional barrel racer and how Matthew had been in awe of her commitment and success on the show circuit. It fascinated him. “Your horses mean a lot to you?”
Her gaze narrowed, like she was immediately looking for the insult in his words. “Do you think that’s nuts? Maybe it is...but I’ve always felt more at home with animals than I have with most people.”
“I would have pegged you for a people person.”
“Why?” she laughed. “Because I’m so easygoing?”
Tyler grinned fractionally. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. You did have your rifle at the ready last night.”
“Can’t be too careful these days.”
“I guess not. But like I said, I’m not a threat to you.”
“I know that,” she said and looked at the baby and smiled. “Besides, my dogs are a good judge of character and they liked you. You seem very... I don’t know. Civilized.”
Tyler laughed softly. Had anyone ever called him that before? Probably not. Not in his personal life and certainly not in the courtroom. Arrogant, cold and detached—that’s what he was renowned for. Someone who got the job done without getting bogged down in sentiment. Corporate cases were his specialty and he had a 95 percent win rate. He’d toppled big corporations and wiped out smaller contenders. He worked at one of the top legal firms in New York on a six-figure retainer, owned a penthouse apartment in Manhattan, drove a top-of-the-range BMW and had his suits and shoes made in Italy.
It was quite a leap from being a one-day-old baby dumped in a box and left on a church doorstep