The Housekeeper's Daughter. Laurie Paige

knew she had to make an appearance. If she didn’t, her mother would come to check on her, worry on her brow as she fretted about lack of appetite and its effects on the baby. There would be no retreat from harsh reality at the present.

      Maya squared her shoulders and walked down the hall, ready for the firing squad, so to speak. Drake wasn’t in the kitchen. Relieved, she turned to her mother. “Can I help?”

      Inez nodded distractedly. She dumped a stack of homemade tortillas into a cloth-lined basket. “Take these to the dining room,” she said. “Check if there’s enough salsa on the table.”

      Maya’s heart dropped straight to her toes, but pride wouldn’t allow her to refuse. After all, she had opened her mouth and volunteered. Another lesson in life from the school of hard knocks, she reminded herself, trying for humor to bolster her flagging courage.

      “Oh, and butter,” her mother added, stirring a pot and tasting the contents before adding more seasoning.

      Maya put fresh butter on a crystal dish, picked up the basket and went into the formal dining room. Maybe none of the family had gathered yet.

      As if she would have such good fortune.

      It was worse than she imagined. Drake and his father were at the table, deep in conversation, when she walked in. There was a beat of silence, then Joe rose with a smile.

      “Maya, you’re looking beautiful today.” He glanced at his son. “There’s something about an expectant mother, isn’t there? A glow that’s special.”

      “Yes.” Drake’s voice was low, sexy.

      Maya felt the blush start at her toes and work its way up. By the time it reached her hairline, she felt like a fresh-boiled lobster.

      “Didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Joe murmured, his gaze so full of delight and kindness, she could have wept.

      “No, it’s all right,” she managed to say past the lump in her throat.

      When she dared look at Drake, his gaze was noncommittal, with no emotion that she could detect. “Mom sent some tortillas and butter.” She placed them on the table near the men.

      After checking the salsa dish, she hurried back to the kitchen. “Here,” Inez said, thrusting a platter into Maya’s hands. “Take these. The new helper I hired didn’t show up. I have to get the rest of the food ready.”

      Maya suppressed a twinge of guilt. Had it not been for Drake, she would have been giving her mom a hand. Instead, she’d hid in her room all morning. And accomplished nothing in the way of studying. She had a big test coming up later in the month.

      She took the huge platter of burritos to the dining room table. Mexican food was one of Joe’s favorite meals and in spite of Ms. Meredith, her mother served it often.

      Maya returned to the kitchen for bowls of refried beans and Spanish rice. In the dining room, after checking the table to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, she again turned toward the kitchen, aware of a brooding gaze on her each time she’d entered the room.

      “Why don’t you join us?” Joe asked.

      Her feet took root and she couldn’t move. She shook her head and felt her hair swish against her face. Realizing she was overreacting, she managed a smile and tried to decline politely, but it was useless. Drake had already pulled a chair out for her. Joe took her arm and guided her into it.

      “Well,” she said with a strained smile, “since you insist.”

      Joe’s smile was understanding and benign. She wasn’t sure about Drake’s. It held a more menacing quality.

      “How are your studies going?” the older Colton asked, serving her the platter of burritos before taking two for himself.

      “Fine, sir. I made the dean’s list.”

      “As usual,” Joe said in approval. He passed the plate to Drake.

      The son, she noted, took four. How could his lean frame burn up so much food, she wondered, something she had asked once before.

      “I think a lot,” he’d answered at the time. He’d kissed her deeply. “And engage in vigorous activity,” he’d added, then he’d proceeded to show her what he meant.

      The heat surged to her face at the memory. She spooned out rice and beans, then passed the bowls to Joe, who sat at the end of the long table with Drake on his left, directly across from her so that she met his eyes every time she looked up.

      Ms. Meredith breezed into the room, bringing the scent of expensive blended perfume. Without acknowledging Maya’s presence, she wrinkled her nose at the food, then informed her husband she had a luncheon engagement in town and, without so much as a goodbye to her son, left.

      Maya tried not to feel sorry for Drake and the other Colton children, but it was hard. Her own mother, Inez, loved kids and lavishly showed it. Other than periods of intense interest in her two youngest children, Drake’s mother mostly ignored her children. It was a riddle because she hadn’t always been that way.

      From her childhood, Maya recalled Ms. Meredith as a gentle, laughing woman who would run and play with her children and husband as if she, too, were young and full of life.

      Glancing up, she saw Drake’s eyes follow his mother as she left the house.

      Maya suddenly sensed the need of the boy for the comfort his mother would have once given him. Then his gaze hardened and he was a man again, tough, resilient and determined, the kind of man the Navy called on for its most dangerous missions.

      It was a life he relished. As if he courted death. As if he dared it to come close.

      She ate quickly, sorrow in her heart. Maybe Drake didn’t know it, but there was something in him…not exactly a death wish—nothing so drastic as that—but a core of darkness nevertheless, one that he had never come to grips with.

      “I wanted to ask you about the Hopechest Ranch,” Joe continued after the brief interruption. “I want your opinion. Do you think it’s helping the children?”

      “Oh, yes. It’s a wonderful place and has a fine reputation. The reading program is excellent. In my opinion,” she added, realizing she might have sounded arrogant.

      “I’m thinking of increasing the endowment this year.”

      “That would be good, sir. The courts are referring more children there than the school can take.”

      “Mmm.” The older man thought a bit. “Drake, while you’re home, maybe you can take a tour of the Hopechest and recommend something more we can do—a new stable or arena, perhaps? Or an additional bunkhouse.”

      “I’ll look into it,” Drake promised.

      “Good. That’s good, son.”

      Maya was touched by the obvious pride and trust the elder Colton placed in his son. Drake needed to see he was appreciated for himself.

      Abruptly, she cut off the thought. Drake didn’t need her concern and pity. He was a grown man. She’d do well to keep out of other people’s business, especially when her own emotions were totally unreliable at this point.

      Remember that advice, she mocked her soft heart, and you’ll get along a lot better in the world. Except she was going to love her child devotedly and show that love just as her parents had done with her and her sister, Lana.

      She sighed in resignation. Yeah, she was one tough cookie.

      “How are you feeling this morning?” Drake asked, looking directly at her.

      His father turned his kind gaze on her, too, while they waited for an answer.

      “Fine,” she murmured. “I’m just fine.”

      “Back not hurting?”

      The question sounded so intimate, she felt as if he were making love to her