Knowing Vera (Romantic Suspense, Family Drama) (Chance for Love) (12 page)

It’s dark by the time Zach pulls up to a lakeside cottage surrounded by a latticed arbor full of fragrant climbing roses. A brightly colored sign reads, “Addy’s Bed and Breakfast.”

I take a deep breath, relieved we arrived safely. The heat of the evening has receded, and a refreshing breeze rattles through a grove of gum trees, while crickets chirp in a fast rhythm interrupted by the occasional croak of a nearby toad.

We dismount the motorcycle and remove our helmets. Zach runs his fingers through my hair and hugs me tightly. “I was so worried about you. Why did Cliff have you locked up?”

I close my eyes, casting in my mind for a plausible explanation. “He dangled the possibility that my father could be alive and said he’d keep me there until I agreed to be his girlfriend.”

“You turn him down?”

“Of course.” I sway in his arms. “Told you I’m a free agent.”

“Hmmm … means I still have a chance. Did you find Tatay, or your father?”

“Turns out Tatay is Mr. Ping, and Cliff put it in his mind that I needed help jumpstarting my singing career.” I cringe at the half-truth and let out a sigh.

Zach’s voice is soft. “What are you going to do now?”

“Go home.” I nestle into his chest, feeling guilty over my lies. I can’t hurt Zach and break up with him again. Maybe distance will fade the attraction, and he’ll find someone else now that he’s home.

“That’s probably for the best. Sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for.” He rubs my shoulders and kisses my cheek. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the US Consulate and report your passport missing. It might take a while to get a replacement, and you have to explain how Cliff took it from you. He didn’t hurt you or do anything, did he?”

“No, not a thing.” I flash back to the shower scene, but honestly, no harm done. It’s not like I’m in a committed, exclusive, handcuffed, tied-and-died relationship with Zach.
Even if I’m on the verge of falling utterly and completely head-over-heels for him.
“Cliff was on his best behavior, playing the part of devoted suitor.”

Zach’s face twists and he rubs his beard shadow. “Don’t gross me out. You should report him for kidnapping you. I can’t believe Mr. Ping went along with it. We’ll talk to the police tomorrow, and maybe they can retrieve your passport for you.”

The air in my lungs freeze at the mention of the police. Had Zach or his father called in the raid at the Ping Estate? I remember Cliff and Papa talking about the gardener who was captured as a decoy.

I can’t talk to the police. I just want to go home and forget I ever came on this trip. Shuddering, I turn out of Zach’s embrace.

“Come on, let’s meet Addy.” He guides me to the door, his hand on my lower back, and then rattles the clapper of a ship’s bell attached to the frame.

The front door of the inn opens, and a large red-haired woman wipes her hands on her apron. She pushes the screen door aside to let us in.

“Aunt Addy,” Zach says, “this is Vera.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she says. “Jack called and said he was sending men to rescue you, but they were shot at. And Zach!” Her eyes narrow, and she punches her fists to her ample hips. “Wait ’til your father finds out you went into the smuggling tunnel.”

“Someone had to be the hero.” Zach turns on the charm complete with dimples, sparkling eyes and a slight tilt of his cleft chin.

She musses his hair, shaking her head. “What am I going to do with you, boy? Even missing a leg you’re still rescuing damsels in distress.” She turns to me. “Oh my, and you lost a shoe and your dress is soiled. You’ll be needing some clean clothes, but you’re such a tiny thing, I don’t think I have anything in your size.”

“That’s okay,” I mumble. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I can ask the other guest, but I think she’s too tall.” Zach’s aunt raises her hand to a level above my head.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go shopping tomorrow.” I leave my single platform shoe on the mat and follow her to the kitchen. She flutters all over Zach, chiding him on his bravery, pigheadedness, and how his father will ground him. He winks at me and helps Addy ladle two bowls full of summer squash soup.

“Sit, Vera.” He gestures me over and whispers, “She’s like a mother to me.”

“Is she your mother’s sister?”

“Dad’s. My mum was an only child, but Addy was her best friend, so it all worked out.”

Aunt Addy sets the soup in front of us with a crusty loaf of whole grain bread. She bustles about and announces she’ll make up my room.

“Thanks, I’ll pay you back when I get my stuff together,” I reassure her.

Addy waves her hand. “You’re a friend of Zach’s. I’m sure he’d rather have you here than on the streets.”

“You’ll be safe here,” Zach says. “Auntie used to be a sharpshooter in the Army. I’d stay with you if I could, but the house rules apply to me.”

“You’re darn right,” Addy says. “Stop making eyes at the girl and let her eat. I’m sure she’ll be wanting a bath.”

After Addy walks out of the kitchen, I ask Zach, “What house rules?”

“No alcohol, no public displays of affection, no swearing.” He breaks off a piece of bread and butters it. “If you stay the weekend, you’ll be going with her to church.”

“Does this apply to all guests?” I sip the soup, which is savory and minty.

“Only the pretty girls I bring around.”

Girls plural?

My jaw clenches. Zach has always been a player, a connoisseur of fine wine and women. I wonder how many old girlfriends live around here including a possible fiancée, if what Cliff was trying to show me were true.

“Vera?” He touches my fingers. “Hope you’ll understand why Addy won’t let me stay. I’ll be down the road at my father’s place.”

“It’s okay by me,” I mutter and spoon soup in my mouth to avoid looking jealous. After I finish the soup, I push from the table. “Can I borrow your cell phone? What time is it right now in the Bay Area?”

He moves his mouth and looks at the ceiling, then says, “Four-twenty in the morning. Who are you calling?”

“A friend.” I’m flustered, my stomach is aching, and I’m upset because Zach has a fiancée, and the hills are crawling with exes and maybe even current hookups. I seriously have to pull myself together. I am not falling for Zach Spencer, a walking advertisement for a heartbreak rehab clinic.

He moves his chair closer to mine. “There’s no one but you, if you’ll have me. After your shower, let’s sit on the back porch. It overlooks the lake and we can count the stars.”

I don’t want to count stars or do anything romantic with Zach. I’m sweaty, hot, cranky, and in need of a shower. I hate the jealousy clawing at my gut. This isn’t like me. Why is he enticing me with stargazing and sweet words?

And why does my pulsating heart yearn and rage to go along with him?

My fingers slip to the crock of his neck and I tilt my lips to his. Before I can take another breath, we’re kissing. His silky tongue slips over mine, dragging tiny moans from the back of my throat. There’s so much I want to tell him, no, am afraid to tell him. I shut my eyes and melt into the moment.

He holds my face tenderly, softly tasting, tempting me with beautiful feelings of belonging to him, waking up next to him, spending a lifetime—

Footsteps sound behind us, and Zach lets go of me. I lower my head and cover my swollen lips with my hand, missing him already and hating the familiar emptiness crashing down on me.

“No smooching at the kitchen table.” Addy wags her finger.

“Thanks for supper.” Zach recovers quickly. “Let me help with the dishes.”

He jumps to his feet but stumbles, catching himself with the kitchen counter.

“Are you okay?” Both Addy and I rush to help him.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. I need to refit my leg. Didn’t have time to pad it enough. But I’m good.” Zach waves us away, limps toward the sink and turns on the tap.

“I’ll wash the dishes.” I add soap and grab a dishrag.

“Uh, uh, you need a shower first.” He scrunches his nose, mockingly. “Auntie, have you seen my mobile? Vera needs to borrow it.”

“Your friends left it on the porch swing,” Addy says, then turns to me. “Your room’s ready. I found some sweatpants and t-shirts from when Zach was in middle school and laid them on the bed. I’ll put the mobile there while you’re showering.”

“Thanks, you’re too kind.” I pick up the bowls and take them to the sink where Zach is washing the dishes.

He nudges my hip. “I’ll wait for you out back.”

***

The shower is more than refreshing, although my thighs are wind burned from the motorcycle ride. I dab myself dry with the plush towels. Everything, from the wallpaper to the lotion dispenser is frilly and floral. I almost sneeze when I rub the sweet smelling lotion onto my legs.

I wrap a towel around me and wipe off the foggy mirror. What a mess I am. My hair is stick straight and glossy, so I can easily finger comb it. But with no makeup, I look like a young teen. Imagine how I’ll look in Zach’s middle school clothes.

After washing my underwear and hanging them on the rod to dry, I try on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Perfect fit. These must have been the ones he wore before his growth spurt. I’m glad Addy didn’t leave me any briefs or boxer shorts. That would have felt too strange.

Zach’s cell phone and charger sits on the bed. I wake the screen and text Maryanne. “If you’re awake, can you call me? This is Vera on Zach’s phone.”

Yawning, I look around the room. It’s decorated with dark brown antique furniture. Two lacey wing-backed chairs sport curvy Queen Anne legs, and the four-poster bed wears carved pineapples on the top of the posts. The wardrobe is a fabulous burled walnut, dark curly grain, some ending in dark brown bubbles. I run my fingers over the highlighted doors and open it. It’s lined with cedar and devoid of contents. There’s a shoe rack on one side and a shelf for hats.

I don’t know what clues I’m looking for. Maybe Lillian Spencer’s old diary will conveniently drop from a secret compartment under the hat shelf. I poke around and tap, but nothing happens. Instead, I spy a scratched heart enclosing the initials, K. B. & Z. S.

Z. S. for Zach? And who is K. B.? And why would she deface this expensive piece of furniture unless … unless she’s the fiancée.

My gut wrenching, I slump back onto the bed. So it’s true, I’m officially the “other woman.” I shouldn’t snoop, but I pick up Zach’s cell and check his text messages.

Sure enough, there’s a series from someone named Krista. I open it and scroll to the start of the conversation.

Krista: When did you get back?

Zach: Had to make a detour.

Krista: Text me when you get in.

The date stamp changes to a day later.

Krista: Are we still going forward with the plans?

Zach: I thought we talked about it.

Krista: I already had to redo the invitations once. Will you be ready in June?

Zach didn’t answer. I hastily check the call logs and note a long phone conversation. Tigers don’t change their stripes and leopards don’t lose their spots. A player will always be a player and I refuse to be played—not by Zach or anyone else. I spit his sweet words at his phone.
There’s no one but you, if you’ll have me.

I exit the call log and browse to his stored photos. Paging backward, I find a folder dated at the beginning of last year, before Zach came to America. A stunning blonde with pale blue eyes and classic features stands next to him, her height reaching to his eye-level. A perfect pair. How did I ever think a tiny Filipino girl like me could be more than a pastime?

This is nuts. I need to leave this joint before my heart gets sliced out of my chest. I’ll call Cliff and force him to give me my passport. He’s going to have to if he doesn’t want me to report him to the police and blow my father’s cover.

He picks up on the first ring. “Yeah?” He sneers, thinking it’s Zach.

“It’s me, Vera.”

“Oh, Vera. How wonderful to hear from you. Are you okay?”

I grit my teeth at his smarmy voice. “No, I’m not. I want to go home. If you don’t want me to file a police report on my missing passport you’ll have to do what I say.”

“Sure, sure. Where are you staying?”

“You don’t need to know.” Even though he might have guessed, I don’t want Cliff to meet up with Zach again. “Book me the next available flight to San Francisco. I’ll need my clothes, purse and luggage, too.”

“Sure you don’t want to come back to the mansion? Offer’s still open.”

“Nope. Text me the flight number and confirmation and meet me outside the airport. Otherwise, I’ll send the police and tell them who Mr. Ping really is.”

“What? You’d turn in your own father?”

“Of course, so I better have that ticket in my hot little hand tomorrow morning, or you’re finished.”

“I’ll call you when everything’s ready. Bye.”

My entire body’s shaking by the time I end the call. I’m gambling he cares more about protecting his rear-end than messing with me. I scroll through the messages. Maryanne hasn’t replied yet and I don’t feel up to talking to my mother. What the hell would I say to her? Guess what? Papa tricked us all. He’s rich and owns a vineyard. Oh, and he’s a killer.

I throw the phone on the bed and lie down. My sweet, soft-spoken Papa, who loved me best. Who tucked me in and sang to me, who gave me Bing-Bing, who still loves my mother. He could never cut anyone in cold blood, could he?

His words don’t ring true. I heard the inflection in his voice, suppressed as if reciting his lines. Could he have been paid to take the blame? Or is this still my wishful thinking?

There’s a knock at my door. Shit. What is Zach trying to do? Rope me in with his charms and crush my heart faster than a juiced-up kangaroo in a boxing ring?

“Vera?” Zach says. “I waited, but I guess you’re busy.”

I march to the door and yank it open. I don’t know why my lips are quivering and I’m about to explode into tears, so I shove him. He stumbles into the wall before I realize he’s taken off his prosthesis.

“Zach. Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He balances himself on one crutch. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing.” I hug myself to keep from trembling.