The Golden Chance (14 page)

“I don't know much about foster-home situations, but I do know that anything that looks too good to be true usually is.”

“It was. Spalding is a huge, powerfully built man. He has a big, bushy beard and he wears overalls and plaid shirts. The picture-perfect image of a farmer.” Phila sipped coffee. “He's got weird eyes, though.”

“Weird eyes?”

“Like blue ice. Mesmerizing. Piercing. Maybe a little bit mad. Nobody seemed to notice his eyes except me. I didn't like the man the minute I met him.”

“When was that?”

“About a year ago. I went to work in the region that included Holloway, and Thelma assigned me the job of keeping tabs on the Spalding farm kids. I knew she had her suspicions. After my first trip to the farm, I agreed with her. Something was very wrong. The difference between me and Thelma was that she only had an instinctive feeling things were bad. I'd had enough personal experience in foster homes to be certain things were bad. The hard part was proving it.” Phila sighed. “That's always the hard part.”

“The kids were still saying everything was fine?”

Phila nodded. “Oh, yes. They all claimed they liked living on the farm. But I could see the fear in their eyes, and I knew I had to act. Unfortunately, I had nothing concrete to go on. No obvious indications of abuse. No complaints. Nothing. I needed real evidence. But before I could figure out how to get it, one of the youngest kids was brought into the emergency room of the local hospital. Little Andy. He was unconscious. The Spaldings said he'd gone climbing against their orders and suffered a bad fall.”

“What did the boy say?”

“He never regained consciousness. He died.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“Thelma was more suspicious than ever, and I was sure the boy had been beaten. I talked to the doctors who said the injuries could have been caused by a severe beating, although they were not inconsistent with a bad fall. Thelma and I sent the sheriff out to the ranch to see if he could turn up anything. Nothing.”

“What happened next?”

“I went out to see Spalding myself, several times. I wanted him to know he was under close observation. I hoped he would watch his step while I bought myself some time to work with the kids. But the kids were better behaved than ever. So I went to work on Spalding's wife, Ruth. I thought she might be a weak link. But she was more terrified of Spalding than she was of me or the authorities.”

Nick considered that. “What did you do?”

“I finally phoned Spalding and told him I wanted to talk to him away from the farm. Neutral territory, so to speak. He agreed to meet me at a diner in town.”

“What did you think you were going to accomplish by getting him away from his farm?”

Phila fiddled with her coffee cup. “I just thought it would be easier to talk to him away from that environment. But I was wrong. He was angry and belligerent when he arrived in the parking lot. I was still in my car, waiting for him. I got out when I saw his truck pull in. He came over to me and starting yelling. Called me a lot of names and accused me of interfering with the sanctity of the American home.”

“How did you respond?”

“I told him I was doing my job and I was very worried about the children in his care. He lost his temper.”

“He threatened you?”

“He did more than that. He told me those children were his and he could do with them as he pleased. He told me he was going to teach me to keep my nose out of his business. Then he hit me.”

Nick's fingers clenched around his coffee cup. “He hurt you?”

“Oh, yes, he hurt me.” Phila smiled grimly. “He was used to hurting people and he was very good at it.” She touched the side of her jaw, remembering the bruise she had worn for days after the assault. Her lawyer had taken photographs. “But then he made his big mistake. He tried to drag me to his truck.”

“Did anyone see what was happening?”

“Not at that point. It was about ten-fifteen and the parking lot of the diner was empty. I started to scream, naturally, and he put his hand over my mouth. He was…very big.” The memory of that huge palm smothering her made her stomach turn over. “He got me to the truck and opened the door. I was struggling, and I guess he thought he had better do something to make me keep quiet. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a gun.”

“Jesus, Phila.”

“That's when I got very lucky. That particular diner happens to be the spot where the local cops take their morning coffee break. A police car pulled into the parking lot just as Spalding tried to force me into the pickup. The cops saw what was happening and came to the rescue. They caught him with the gun, but that wasn't all. When they searched him, they found some heroin on him.”

“He was carrying drugs?” Nick looked startled.

Phila nodded grimly. “The narcotics, together with the weapon and the obvious evidence of physical assault on me, were enough to get him put away for a while. More than enough to make certain he never qualified as a foster parent again.”

“Which was the important thing as far as you were concerned,” Nick concluded softly.

Phila glanced at him directly for the first time. His eyes were colder than she had ever seen them. It seemed to her she could feel the chill even sitting two feet away. Phila drew a deep breath.

“That's the whole story,” she said. “They arrested Spalding for assault on me, not the kids. We never could prove he had done anything to the children. I'm the one who testified against him at the trial. I'm the one he intends to punish when he gets out.”

Nick walked back to the Lightfoot beach cottage twenty minutes after he'd heard Phila's tale. He was still burning with a cold rage against the unknown Elijah Spalding, but he was well aware he had more immediate problems. Spalding, at least, was safely tucked away for a while.

One of the things that was hammering at him now was the memory of the panic in Phila's eyes when she'd fought him this morning. There had been more to her fear than a simple desire to escape. She had struggled as if she had thought he might rape her or beat her.

Something had happened to her at some point in the past, Nick concluded. Something that made her fear a man's weight on top of her.

Nick allowed himself a brief, self-satisfied smile. Through a combination of sheer luck and brilliant male intuition he had stumbled onto the key to seducing Phila. She was as full of feminine fire as any man could want. The trick was to let her light her own fuse.

But he was definitely going to have to work on the problem of teaching her how to burn a little more slowly. When she finally got turned on, she approached sex the same way she did everything else—at Mach speed.

He thought fleetingly of all the long, cold months he had labored to find the right approach to use with Hilary. His failure with her had not totally crushed his masculine pride; he had been intelligent enough to understand that it was not all his fault. But it had left him with some serious qualms about his appeal to the opposite six.

More specifically, it had made him wonder frequently how much of whatever attraction women did feel for him was induced by the name of Lightfoot. There was no denying he did not come equipped with the Castleton looks and charms. Business savvy only took a man so far in this world.

But right from the start he had not had to worry about Phila being interested in him because of the Lightfoot name. If anything, the name was a distinct turnoff for her.

Yet last night, even though she had tried to resist, she had gone crazy for him. He must have the magic touch with her, Nick told himself. His smile turned into a wide, laughing grin.

Contemplation of how he would proceed with Phila started doing invigorating things to his system. To get his mind off sex he switched his thoughts to the automatic he had found in the bedside drawer earlier. That sobered him immediately.

He was halfway up the long, curving drive when the white Mercedes convertible appeared from the back of the cottage and roared toward the gate. Reed Lightfoot was at the wheel. He was wearing his golfing clothes. The sleek car glided to a halt near Nick, and Reed scanned his son's rumpled shirt and unshaven face.

“You look like you just spent the night in some goddamned cathouse. Don't let Eleanor see you,” Reed said.

“Eleanor's not that easily shocked. I wasn't planning on visiting her at this hour, anyway. It's only seven-thirty. You off to the golf course?”

“Got a game at eight.” Reed's eyes narrowed. “I take it the status quo has changed? You're sleeping with her as of last night?”

“I'll make a deal with you, Dad. You don't pry into my love life and I won't make any more comments about yours, okay?”

“Suit yourself. As far as I'm concerned you can do anything you goddamn well please with Phila Fox as long as you get those shares back.” Reed put his foot down on the accelerator, and the Mercedes roared through the open gate.

Nick watched for a moment until the car was out of sight and then resumed his walk toward the cottage. Phila was right. The Castleton and Lightfoot summer homes did look a little like some film-set version of a couple of plantation mansions.

Cupcake and Fifi spotted him as he drew close, and both bounded forth to greet him. He scratched their ears, and they fell into step beside him as he headed toward the colonnaded porch.

“'Morning, sir,” Tec Sherman said from the doorway. He was wearing a bilious-green aloha shirt. His bald head gleamed in the morning sunlight. “Breakfast is just about to hit the table. You interested?”

“No, thanks, Tec. All I want right now is a shower and a shave.”

“No problem, sir. Your things are in your bedroom.”

“I know.” Nick took another look at the aloha shirt. “I think Phila has a shirt that color. The two of you would probably have fun shopping together.”

“She may have good taste in clothes,” Tec allowed magnanimously, “but she's sure got a mouth on her.”

“You get used to it.”

Tec cleared his throat. “Uh, we sort of wondered where you'd gone last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Your dad figured you went to visit Miss Fox.”

“Is that right?”

Nick went up the steps and into the house. Phila was not going to be thrilled when she found out their relationship was common knowledge. He probably should have warned her that it was inevitable everyone would figure out what had happened last night.

But, then, Phila was not going to be thrilled when she found out they still had a relationship, period. As far as she was concerned, the previous evening was going down as a deeply regretted one-night stand.

She had certainly done her best to kick him out of the Gilmarten place this morning. Nick had finally left when he came to the conclusion they both needed time to cool down.

He wondered if she would have been more relaxed about things if it had not hit her that, on top of everything else, she might be pregnant.

He made a mental note to pick up a package of condoms in town that afternoon. He also made a note to maintain more control the next time he took Phila to bed. Next time, he promised himself, he was going to make damn sure she had a climax. He desperately wanted her to associate physical satisfaction with being in his arms. Nick shook his head, still unable to believe the effect she'd had on him last night. No other woman had ever broken through his ironclad self-control the way Phila had. She had made him go wild, a totally unique experience for him.

Half an hour later, shaved, showered and dressed in jeans and a black pullover, Nick went back downstairs.

“If you manage to get those shares back by sleeping with her, I'll be very surprised.” Hilary spoke almost idly from the breakfast-room doorway. “After all she was a friend of Crissie's and I can't see any friend of Crissie's being that stupid.”

Nick swore to himself and halted in the middle of the hall. He turned halfway around to confront Hilary. She looked as stunning as ever this morning. Her dark red hair was tied at the nape of her neck, her wide-sleeved blouse flowed gracefully from the high-waisted, pleated trousers she wore.

“Good morning, Hilary. Beautiful day, isn't it?” Nick kept his voice perfectly bland.

“I think I've got this all figured out, Nick. You're going to try and buy your way back into Reed's good graces by prying those shares away from Phila, aren't you? Why bother? Or have you decided you want to be a part of Castleton & Lightfoot again, after all?”

“And if I have?” he asked softly.

Her green eyes glinted savagely. “If you think you can just walk back in here after three years and take over, you're out of your mind.”

“It's my inheritance, Hilary. If you're smart, you won't forget that. One of these days I might just decide to take it back and if I do, your ass will be out the door.”

She smiled coldly. “You really believe you could do that? After what you did to me? The families are on my side, Nick.”

“If I decide I want to run the families and the company, I'll do it, Hilary.” It was a statement of fact as far as Nick was concerned. But he knew from the confident expression in her eyes that Hilary did not believe him.

“Stop bluffing. I'm Reed's wife now. You can't touch me or the company. You shouldn't have come back, Nick. No one wants you here.”

“Maybe no one wants me, but they all sure as hell want those shares, don't they? And right now I've got the best chance of getting them back into the family. So it looks as though everyone will just have to tolerate my presence.”

“Do you really think anything's going to change if you do manage to get back the shares?”

Nick did some fast mental calculations and made an executive decision. It was time to rattle Hilary's cage. “Yeah, Hilary. I do think things are going to change. You see, I could do just about anything I want if I decide to have Phila give those shares to me instead of to Darren.” He watched the anger form in her eyes as the full impact of what he was saying dawned on her.

“But those were Castleton shares. They belong to Darren now that Burke is dead, not you.”

“They belong to whoever can get them out of Philadlephia Fox's hands.”

“You bastard.”

“Right, first time, Hilary. I think you're getting the point.”

“Damn you, Nick.”

“I told Dad I'd get the shares back into family hands, but I didn't say which family and I didn't specify whose hands. If I started voting my own shares again plus Phila's, I could begin to make some interesting waves in the moat around your little castle. Think about that when you sit in front of your mirror and tell yourself you're safe.”

“I am safe,” Hilary answered swiftly. “I'm family and I'm here to stay. No one is going to accept you back into the fold after what you did three years ago. You think about
that
while you screw your new girlfriend. You might also spend some time thinking about why she's willing to sleep with you in the first place. You aren't exactly hell on wheels in bed, as we both know. Better find out who's using whom.” Hilary turned on one well-shod heel and walked back into the breakfast room.

Nick let himself out the front door. “Hey, Tec.”

“Over here, sir.” Tec came toward him, a garden hose looped around one burly shoulder. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Let's hunt up Darren and see if he wants to get in a little target practice down at the range.”

Tec's face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Great idea, sir. Your dad picked up a beautiful Ruger .44 a month ago that needs a workout. Let's hit the deck.”

There was a storm coming in from the west. Phila stood barefoot in the gritty sand at the water's edge and watched the clouds boil toward shore. The wind was picking up, carrying a hint of rain. The sea was choppy with whitecaps cresting every small wave. Several hundred yards out an aging fishing boat was laboring toward port.

Phila had walked down to the beach with the hope of getting the morning's scene with Nick out of her mind. She was not having much luck. She was supposed to be gathering information on Castletons and Lightfoots in preparation for making an intelligent decision about what to do with Crissie's shares. She was supposed to be analyzing, judging, perhaps seeking some revenge for the way the families had ostracized poor Crissie.

Instead she had gotten herself tangled up in an affair with a Lightfoot.

Phila winced as she recalled the expression on Nick's face when she had awakened to find him watching her, the gun on the table beside him. But as hard as she tried to keep that memory firmly in mind, the one that kept pushing it aside was the one of last night.

Nick had been exactly what she had been looking for in a lover. Phila realized that now. He was perfect in every way except one: he was a Lightfoot. Crissie probably would have found the entire situation vastly entertaining.

Phila had known she had some problems when it came to sex. She was realistic enough to have guessed that some, if not all, of those problems stemmed from what had happened to her when she was thirteen. But she had not known how to overcome the problem. The few halting attempts she had made to get involved physically with a man had usually ended in disaster. At best she had just managed to endure groping hands and a heavy, male body.

But last night with Nick, Phila had felt gloriously safe, secure and in control for the first time. That was obviously the way she needed to feel if she was to enjoy sex.

Nick was a big man, the kind she normally felt most uneasy with. But last night he had not used his strength against her. He had not tried to overwhelm her. He had let her set the pace. For the first time she had sensed she did have her share of normal resonses. For the first time she had discovered she was capable of satisfying a man.

And she had loved the feeling.

It was too bad Nick had ruined everything this morning, she thought bitterly.

If she was pregnant, she was going to make good on her threat to use that gun on him, she vowed angrily. The thought of having possibly conceived threw her into a whole different realm of panic.

She was trying not to remember that she had been as irresponsible as Nick last night, when she realized she was not alone on the beach. She could hear nothing above the wind and the waves, but when she turned her head she saw Hilary approaching. Phila froze and waited.

“Crissie liked to walk on the beach in the mornings, too.” Hilary said as she came to a halt next to Phila and gazed at the fishing boat in the distance.

Phila was silent for a moment before she said, “Crissie and I were both raised in eastern Washington. The sea always symbolized freedom to us. We used to talk about the day we would move to the coast.”

“Crissie went to Southern California.”