Kiss Me (Fool's Gold series) (17 page)

She crossed to a fallen log and sat down. After patting the space next to herself, she waited.

Lucy sucked in a breath. She glanced around, then looked at the saddlebags. Longing darkened her eyes. Finally she walked forward slowly and perched on the log.

Relief swept over C.J. She fumbled with the buckle, then opened the bag and pulled out a wide-toothed comb.

“I’m going to start at the bottom and work up,” she said as she leaned toward the girl. “I’ll do my best not to tug too hard, but if it hurts, you tell me and I’ll stop.”

“Okay.” Lucy sounded doubtful.

C.J. began to work. The tangles came out more easily than she’d thought they would. The girl’s hair wasn’t wiry, only messy. Once combed, it was sleek and shiny.

After a few minutes Lucy reached up and felt the strands that had already been combed. “It feels nice,” she said.

“Wait until I put it in a French braid. You’re going to look really pretty. I have a mirror with me, so you can see.”

Lucy turned slightly to glance at her, then faced front again. “I wasn’t stealing yesterday,” she blurted out, speaking quickly. “I really was looking for a Band-Aid.”

C.J. swallowed. “I know,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “I know. I’m sorry I accused you of stealing. It was very wrong of me, and I hope you’ll accept my apology and forgive me.”

Lucy sprang to her feet and spun to face her. She looked confused and more than a little stunned. “You’re apologizing to me?”

“Yes. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it. C.J. wondered if any adult in the girl’s life had ever taken responsibility for making a mistake.

“It’s okay,” Lucy told her and sat back down.

“Thank you for accepting my apology.”

Still sounding startled, Lucy said, “You’re welcome.”

C.J. continued to work on her hair. Being wrong about yesterday was one thing, she told herself, but what about the picnic? Had she been wrong there, too?

“You must have been very frustrated,” C.J. said, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake in pursuing this line of conversation. “When someone is honest and gets accused of stealing, it’s easy for them to get mad.”

Lucy stiffened slightly. C.J. kept combing, but then the girl pulled away. She dropped her chin to her chest.

“We steal sometimes,” she whispered. “Tommy takes the money while I do something to get everybody’s attention. He hates doing it, but I make him.” Lucy tilted her head and looked at C.J. “We don’t buy candy with the money, or toys. I’m real careful with it.”

She made the statement as if wanting to know that made it better.

“So why do you take it?” C.J. asked, not sure why she didn’t feel vindicated to have her suspicions confirmed.

“Sometimes we buy food. When Mrs. Fortier gets mad at us, she sends us to bed without supper. That happens a lot and we get real hungry. We try to be quiet, but sometimes we forget, and then she locks us in our room.” Lucy sighed. “We’re saving the rest for when we’re ready to run away and be on our own. Some of it’s gonna have to go for a new coat for Tommy. Mrs. Fortier says his old one is just fine, but it’s too small. He can barely fit into it, and when it snows and stuff, he needs to be warm.”

Anger flooded C.J., but this time it wasn’t directed at the child. Instead, she felt a burning need to find the horrible woman who treated these children so badly and lock her in a room without food for a couple of weeks. Then she should spend a good long time in prison.

“I’m glad you and Tommy take care of each other,” she said, careful to keep her feelings to herself. If Lucy saw any strong emotion, she would assume C.J. was mad at her. Based on recent events, who could blame the girl?

She slid forward until she could reach the girl’s hair and continued combing it. They talked about the horses and how good Cookie’s desserts were until C.J. finished with the braid and handed over her mirror.

Lucy stared at herself. Her mouth curved into a delighted smile.

“I have to go show Tommy,” she crowed, handed C.J. the mirror, then raced toward the cook wagon. Halfway across the clearing, she turned back.

“Thank you, C.J.”

“You’re welcome. After dinner, I’ll take it out so it’s not too lumpy to sleep on, but if you’d like me to put it back in the morning, I will.”

Lucy beamed. “I’d like that a lot.”

C.J. watched her go, then packed away her mirror and comb. In her world, the act was a small thing, but what was it in Lucy’s world?

Thad stepped into the clearing. He carried a mug of coffee in each hand. “I saw your handiwork,” he said, handing her the cup. “Lucy’s hair looks nice.”

C.J. shrugged, not wanting to talk about why she’d done it or what it all meant. If this had been her first baby step back into the world of the humane, she didn’t want to look at it too closely for fear of messing up.

“Lucy told me a few things about her foster-care situation,” she said and recounted the girl’s stories of lack of clothing and being sent to bed without food. “When we get back, I want to report that woman. She shouldn’t be allowed to take in children. Not if she isn’t interested in caring for them.”

She braced herself for Thad’s response. No doubt he would want them to take in the children themselves. While she and her husband had been approved to have foster children, for C.J. it had simply been one more step on the road to getting a baby. She had no intention of taking in older children.

“Good idea,” he said instead. “We have our contact in social services. I also know a few lawyers who work in the department. I’ll have a word with them, as well. Lucy and Tommy should be with someone who wants them.”

C.J. waited, but he only smiled at her and sipped his coffee. That was it? She’d been prepared to fight him on the issue. What had happened? And why did she feel oddly let down?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

S
HORTLY
BEFORE
LUNCH
Phoebe realized she was missing her pen. She wouldn’t have noticed except in an attempt to give herself hope about her employment future, she’d decided to spend some of her riding time brainstorming alternative career options. And as being within sighting distance of Zane caused her brain to shut down in a hormonal rush, she figured she should write those ideas down. Hence the need for a pen. But it was just plain gone.

One advantage of minimal luggage was the ease with which she could sort through her belongings. She had all her clothes, no watch, one silver earring and—

“That is just so annoying,” she said aloud, then stomped her foot on the ground. “I mean, how do they know?”

Chase crossed the clearing and headed toward her. “How does who know what?”

“The raccoons,” she told him. “My pen is missing.”

He grinned. “Let me guess. Shiny?”

“A silver Cross pen. I doubt it’s all that expensive, but it was given to me by a client, so it was special.” She closed her saddlebag. “What I want to know is how did they get it? Do they paw through my luggage while I’m out eating or something?”

“I’m sure word has gotten around about you,” he said and chuckled. “The raccoon grapevine is filled with messages about the dark-haired woman with the endless stash of shiny possessions.”

Phoebe didn’t doubt that could be very possible. “Think I could get my pen back if I offered them the other earring?”

“We could try to set up a meeting on neutral ground.”

Phoebe couldn’t help laughing as she pictured herself in a trench coat on a foggy night, crossing a bridge to meet a nervous raccoon.

“Let me know if you make any progress with them,” she said.

“Sure thing.” Chase settled on the log next to her, straddling it and facing her. “So, tell me about Jonny Blaze. What’s he like?”

She wrinkled her nose. “He was fine. I told you, he treated me like his kid sister. The man actually patted my head. I’m not making that up.”

Chase looked disappointed. “So you didn’t date?”

“We had a soda once, while we were looking at houses. Does that count?”

“I don’t think so. You know any other movie stars?”

“Nope. Just the one. I know that in Beverly Hills I should concentrate on high-end real estate, but I don’t. Besides, a lot more of the rich and famous are moving into other areas.”

Chase removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “So you have a boyfriend?”

The unexpected question made her laugh. “No. Right now I barely have a houseplant.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “Honestly, I have really bad luck with men. Or maybe I just have lousy taste.”

“What goes wrong?”

She wondered if there was enough time left in the universe to discuss that. “Pretty much everything. I tend to pick guys who need to be rescued. You know, there’s something wrong in their life. They stay until it’s fixed, usually by me, and then they move on.”

Often hurting her in the process, she thought sadly. Like Jeff sleeping with the eighteen-year-old intern Phoebe had hired. Okay, the girl had some responsibility in that one. She doubted the discussion of sex had been all one-sided, but the thought that he could have done that with someone who was so young and vulnerable was just plain icky.

“So look for different kinds of guys,” Chase told her with the absolute confidence of a young man who had yet to be battered by love. “You’re beautiful, smart and funny. Guys like that.”

His compliment made her feel good. Not as good as if it had come from Zane, but still, it was nice. “Thanks for the endorsement. Could I get a letter to carry with me and show prospective dates?”

“Sure.”

She patted his arm. “You’re very sweet, but dating isn’t that simple. At least not for me. Maya and I were discussing the fact that I should probably stop finding guys who need rescuing. At least with men who have it all together I would have a whole new set of problems. It might not work any better, but it would be interesting.”

Of course she didn’t mention the fact that the thought of being with someone who didn’t need her practically sent her screaming into the night. If she wasn’t fixing some problem, then why would a guy want her around?

“Zane doesn’t need rescuing,” Chase said. “You could practice on him.”

The unexpected statement left Phoebe more than a little flustered. She coughed, cleared her throat and tried to smile. “Yes, well, but I’m not dating Zane, am I?” She didn’t think that hot mind-altering kisses counted as actual dates.

“You could.” Chase shook his head. “On second thought, that’s not such a good idea. The more I think about it, the more I realize Zane is in some need of serious rescuing.”

Right, Phoebe thought as she rolled her eyes. Zane needed rescuing, and soon the baby goats would learn to dance like the Rockettes and take the whole family on a road trip.

“Zane is the most together and responsible person I’ve ever met,” she said. “The only thing he needs rescuing from is the rest of us who upset his perfect world.”

“You’re wrong.”

Chase glanced over his shoulder, as if checking to make sure they were alone. Phoebe followed his gaze and saw C.J. and the kids helping Cookie with lunch. The rest of the crew was nowhere to be seen.

“Zane’s not very good with women,” Chase said, his voice low.

Phoebe, having been in Zane’s presence while his mouth was on hers and his hand was between her legs, snorted in disbelief. “That is so not true.”

Chase raised his eyebrows.

Nanoseconds later, she realized that maybe she shouldn’t have sounded so adamant about her statement. She slid back on the log.

“Okay, well, not that I would know or anything. But he’s just so in charge and women really like that. Plus, he’s good-looking. There’s the whole cowboy thing.” She let her voice trail off and hoped she didn’t sound as lame as she felt.

Chase continued to stare at her. She’d never been very good with the whole “silence as power” concept. As always, she found herself stumbling over her words in an effort to fill the empty space.

“Your brother is great with women. Maya told me he was voted the guy all the girls in high school most wanted to—er—be with.”

Chase actually chuckled at that one. “Not women who know him. Maya knows Zane needs help as much as I do. It’s like when he got married. Could Zane have screwed up more?”

Phoebe felt as neatly divided as a classic schizophrenic. On the one hand, she knew it was wrong to gossip about Zane’s personal life. On the other hand, she desperately wanted to know more about Zane. Besides, Maya had already told a few things, so this wasn’t really gossiping, was it?

Need beat out the moral high road by a three to one margin. She sighed in defeat.

“I know he was married, and it didn’t go well,” she said.

“There’s an understatement,” Chase told her. “Sally was pretty and really nice. She was obviously crazy about Zane, which is why she accepted his marriage proposal.”

Phoebe pressed a hand to her stomach, as if the movement could still the jealousy churning there. Well, she’d been the one who had wanted details.

“I’m glad his marriage started on a high note,” she said, almost speaking the truth. “It’s sad that it had to end.”

Chase snorted. “You’re missing my point. Here’s Zane with this perfect setup. A beautiful woman who was more than willing to keep his bed warm at night. She cooked, she cleaned, she baked cookies.”

Phoebe winced. She wasn’t sure she could stand to hear anymore. Not that she was interested, but if she was, there was no way she could compete with this paragon of virtue.

“Then Zane completely blew it,” Chase said. “Sally wanted to have kids, and when she kept pressing him, he told her the truth.”

Phoebe’s breath caught. “That he didn’t love her.”

“Exactly. He flat-out told her he didn’t want to have children with her because he’d only married her to have a woman around to act like a mother to me. Is that dumb or what? All he had to do was have a kid or two with Sally, and he would have been set for the rest of his life.”

“But if he didn’t love her...”

“Zane doesn’t know what love is. He could have learned to love her. Or lied. What did it matter? Sally wasn’t asking for much.”

“He was honest. I respect that.”

“You would,” Chase told her. “But it was stupid. Sally was hurt and mad. Who can blame her? She’d been used. Like I said, my brother’s pretty backward when it comes to women.”

Phoebe felt sorry for both Zane and Sally, although she had to admit she didn’t mind that the other woman was out of the picture. If she’d still been around, there wouldn’t have been any soul-stirring kisses, or that whole hand-down-the-pants thing that still made her tingle.

Chase’s gaze turned speculative. “Now Zane is even more cautious when it comes to the ladies. Which is why he hasn’t told you he likes you.”

Phoebe’s mouth dropped open. She made a sincere effort to close it, but as she couldn’t actually feel her lips, she wasn’t sure if she succeeded.

Zane liked her? She wanted it to be true so much, her teeth hurt. But did he? Really?

She shook her head. “Zane’s being very nice to me because he’s an excellent host. There’s nothing between us.” She was sort of telling the truth and sort of hoping Chase would prove her wrong. Which made her feel about as sophisticated as a thirteen-year-old at her first boy-girl party.

Chase grinned. “Want to bet? He’s always looking at you. I’ve seen him. Plus he kissed you.”

Stunned, Phoebe scooted back on the log. Unfortunately there wasn’t all that much log left, and she landed right on her fanny in the dirt. From her undignified position, she stared at Chase.

“How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I saw you walking back to your tent a couple of nights ago. You had the look of a woman who’d been well kissed. A couple of minutes later, my brother appeared. Let’s just say he was distracted.”

She was thrilled, embarrassed and terrified. Thrilled that Chase thought Zane liked her, embarrassed about his knowledge of the kisses and terrified by the thought that Zane might actually be attracted to her.

Sure he was everything she wanted, but she doubted she came close to fulfilling his wish list. He was capable, strong, determined. His ideal partner would be someone completely together and unflappable. Someone who didn’t talk to animals and lose her possessions to marauding raccoon gangs.

Chase sighed. “I get it. You’re not interested. I feel kind of bad for Zane, but I get where you’re coming from. He doesn’t talk, and when he does, he’s critical. He has no sense of humor. As for being romantic, you’d find more passion in a rock.”

Phoebe scrambled to her feet. “That’s not fair. You’re judging Zane as your older brother. You don’t know what he’s like with women, and you don’t see him the way I do. He’s not any of those things. He’s very handsome and strong and sexy, and we’ve had a lot of personal conversations and he was never critical. As for him being romantic or passionate—”

She had the sudden thought that she might have taken her defensive position just a little too far. Clearing her throat, she brushed off her backside.

“Let’s just say the old saying about still waters is true,” she finished primly.

“Cool.” Chase stood. “I thought you liked him.”

Phoebe felt the trap neatly close. “I...he...” She stomped her foot. “Dammit, Chase, that’s not fair.”

He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid, I won’t say anything.”

“Good. Not that there’s anything to say.”

“Of course not.”

“Zane and I are friends.”

“Right.”

“Good friends.”

“Of course.” Chase winked. “But if things get hot and heavy, remind him I’ve got condoms in my saddlebags.”

Phoebe shrieked and covered her cheeks with her hands. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Hey, I like to be prepared. We could have run into a group of college girls out camping or something.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled and was more than a little grateful when Cookie rang the bell for lunch.

* * *

Z
ANE
SPENT
THE
first part of the afternoon trying to forget what he’d seen before lunch and the second part telling himself he didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t successful either time. There was no way to block out the vision of Phoebe and Chase sitting together, heads bent close as they had a very private conversation. He’d been too far away to hear what they were saying, but he’d heard the laughter.

There was still a tightness in his gut that he refused to acknowledge. No way was he going to be jealous of his own brother. Besides, Phoebe wasn’t the type of woman to go after a kid. So they’d been talking. Nothing more.

But it had been an easy conversation. Chase was good at that. Half the time, Zane stood next to Phoebe as silent and stupid as a tree, because he couldn’t think of anything to say. Or if she started talking, it was about feng shui or making friends with stumps or something that surprised him into silence. It delighted him, too, but he’d never told her that. He didn’t know how.