Almost Home (9 page)

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H
e was weak, Zach told
himself as he parked his
truck across the street
from the Paradise Inn. He'd finished his business at the hardware store, and it
was almost one, past time to be getting back to the farm. But he figured as
long as he was here, he might as well check on Katherine, make sure she wasn't
suffering any side effects from yesterday's accident.

She'd told him she wasn't his responsibility, but
there was something about the proud, vulnerable light of battle in her blue
eyes, the upward tilt of her chin, that made him feel ridiculously protective.
Was he
ever
going to forget her face?

As he walked toward the hotel, he prayed she was
already gone. Then she'd be out of his sight, off of his conscience, and a
good, safe distance away.

A statuesque redhead dressed in a gray trench coat
that seemed completely out of place on a warm April afternoon came out the
front door of the hotel and paused to take her sunglasses out of her purse. She
slipped on the pair of skinny, gold-tipped glasses and sent him a saucy look.

"Well, hello there, Mr. Tyler. How nice to see you,"
she drawled in
a voice dripping with
insincerity.

Leeanne Brooks Callaway had grown up in
Paradise
, one of four children born to Bernadine and
Benjamin Brooks, owners of the third largest stud farm in the area. Leeanne's
three brothers ran the stud farm now and were intensely competitive. Usually
they were their own worst enemy, fighting amongst themselves instead of
fighting the other farms for business.

Zach had met Leeanne a few times over the years. She
often stopped by the big house to see Claire and Harry. Claire treated Leeanne
like a daughter and had told Zach that the redhead's wild side was a cover for
a deep-buried insecurity. Zach didn't believe that for a second. He knew wild
when he saw it, and right now he was looking at it.

Leeanne was married to Jimmy Callaway, president of
the First American Bank. She had three grown children, lots of money, social
standing, a good family background, and a beautiful house. But she was itching
for something, and Zach didn't intend to scratch that itch.

"Mrs. Callaway." He tipped his head in
greeting.

"What brings you to
Paradise
this morning?"

"Business."

"At the hotel? That sounds like funny business to
me." She sent him a wickedly inviting smile. "My favorite kind."

"You? I'm shocked."

"You'd be surprised what goes through my head
sometimes."

"I'm sure I would be."

She tilted her head to one side. "I suspect you're
visiting that lovely little blonde up on the third floor. Maggie Harper told me
Miss Whitfield has been holed up in there since J.T. threw his drink at her
last night. I must admit I'm dying to meet her. I heard she ran into you
yesterday afternoon. Seems like she's stirring up all the men around here."

Leeanne Callaway didn't know the half of it. "I
wouldn't know about that," Zach said. "You have a nice day."

"I bet it won't be as nice as yours," she
said as he moved past her. "You be careful now, Mr. Tyler. You know what
happened the last time you went visiting a beautiful blonde."

Zach opened the front door of the hotel and shut it
quickly behind him. The last thing he needed was a reminder that Katherine was
probably not all that different from
Crystal
.
They both came from money, from the big city. They were both blond, restless,
and looking for something in
Paradise
that
probably didn't exist outside their imaginations.

Zach didn't intend to let himself get sucked in again.
He had a plan, and he'd stick to it. He didn't need a woman in his life. He
could get sex when he wanted it. And he didn't care about companionship,
affection, love and faith, and all that nonsense. He didn't need to sleep with
his arms wrapped around someone or listen to her breathing through the dark of
the night. He didn't need hands to rub his shoulders when he was tired or
express sympathy with a smile. Because the smile could turn at any second. The
hands could stop. The love could end. And having it and losing it was far worse
than never having it.

Zach walked over to the courtesy phone at the end of
the hotel registration desk. Before he could pick up the phone, Maggie Harper
looked up from her computer.

"Mr. Tyler," she said in a voice that seemed
a mix of awe and dislike. "What are you doing here?"

She acted like he was about to rob her. "Ring Miss
Whitfield's room for me, would you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Miss Whitfield said she didn't
want to be disturbed."

"I'll let her tell me that, if you don't mind."

Maggie reluctantly reached for the phone on the desk.
Before she could dial, Katherine's voice rang across the lobby.

"Zach? Zach."

Zach turned to see her waving to him as she stepped
off the elevator.

He'd thought she was pretty yesterday, but today she
was awesome. When she walked across the lobby, everything went from black and
white to vibrant, beautiful color. Wearing a short red and black floral skirt
that showed off long, slender, tanned legs and feet encased in strappy
high-heeled sandals, she looked like the typical
California
girl. Her knit top clung to her
full breasts, and her blond hair fell loosely about her shoulders.

He wanted her.

The realization almost knocked him off his feet. He
couldn't rationalize it away. It was all he could do not to reach for her, not
to cup her sweet face and kiss those soft lips and pull her down to the floor
and
…

He felt a rush of heat sweep through him. So much for
not wanting a woman. Hell, he had to get out more.

"Zach," she said again, a curious but wary
gleam in her eyes. "Were you looking for me? I'm just on my way out."
She moved quickly to the front door, not caring for Maggie's questioning gaze.

Zach followed her onto the front porch where she
slipped on a pair of sunglasses to protect her eyes from the bright sunlight. "That's
better," she said. "So, did you come to check up on me or try to
convince me to leave town again?"

"Well, I can see you're fine, and I doubt telling
you anything is going to accomplish much. Where are you headed this morning?"

"Golden's."

"Ah—returning to the scene of the crime."

"Hardly a crime, and I never really saw the place."
She checked her watch. "Since it's just after one, I'm hoping there won't
be any fights in progress."

"Probably not. Especially since I'm not there,
right?"

She walked down the steps in front of the hotel and
paused to lean over and inhale the scent of a blossoming pink rose dangling
over the walkway. "Mm-mm, lovely," she said. "Smell it. It's
gorgeous, a princess rose, I think."

Zach leaned over obediently, but he was so close to
Katherine, he couldn't smell anything but the gardenia scent of her shampoo,
the vanilla fragrance of her skin, the minty coolness of her breath. She was
one tantalizing woman.

"There's nothing better than one perfect rose."
Katherine stood up straight. "Don't you agree?"

"I can think of a few things that would be
better."
Like Katherine naked in a bed of rose petals.
He cleared
his throat.

"You
don't like flowers?" she asked, sending him a
quizzical look.

"Not as much as you, apparently."

She sent him a dazzling smile. "I always wanted
to be a florist. I'd love to have my own little shop somewhere, spend my days
designing bouquets to celebrate the special occasions in people's lives. I
think that would be the best job." Her smile faded and a bleak look came
into her eyes.

"Why aren't you a florist then?" he asked.

She hesitated. "It's complicated. I felt a
responsibility to my stepfather, to work in his investment banking company."

Zach raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like an
investment banker."

"I'm not very good at it either," she
confided. "I've been learning the business from the ground up, but to tell
you the truth, I'm not sure I'll ever know what to do."

"Why don't you quit then?"

"I don't know. It makes Mitchell happy to have me
there." Actually, she wasn't sure Mitchell really cared one way or the
other, but she'd always felt that working together somehow kept them together.

"And what is Mitchell doing while you're here in
Kentucky
?"

"He's resting up from a cruise to
Mexico
."

"Tough life. Still, maybe you should go home and
keep the business running until he's ready to come back to work."

She shook her finger at him. "Nice try, but I
already put it on the list, so you're not telling me anything I don't know."

"The list?"

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small
spiral notebook. "I've been writing them down." She flipped open the
notebook and leafed through a dozen pages, before settling on one filled with
script. "So far, I have ten reasons to leave and only one reason to stay."

"Let me see that." Zach took the notebook
out of her hand and skimmed the pros and cons. She'd done a good job at
detailing all the reasons why her search was hopeless, yet she was still here.
Before handing the notebook back to her, he turned the page back, then another
and another, his smile growing with each new list.

Katherine tried to grab the notebook out of his hand,
but he held it away from her. "Look at this, ten reasons to go out with
Marc Stafford and five reasons not to go out with him. Ooh, bad hair. That's
pretty critical."

"Zach, give it back."

"Oh, and here's ten reasons to get a cat and ten
reasons not to get a cat. I really think you should go with a dog."

She crossed her arms in front of her and scowled at
him. "I got the cat. Are you finished?"

"You have a list for everything."

"So what? It helps me organize my thoughts."

"Don't you ever just do what you feel like doing
without thinking about it?"

"That's how I ended up here," she said with
a sigh. "I didn't start making the list until last night."

"If you had, you wouldn't have come."

"Probably not. I guess that's why I didn't do it."
She looked at him with a wry smile. "Too bad for you, huh?"

"Why are you still here when you have so many
reasons to leave?"

"I'm trying to learn how to color outside the
lines."

Zach laughed. He couldn't help it. She was so genuine,
so honest. He'd never met anyone like her.

"You must get hurt a lot," he murmured.

She looked at him in surprise. "Why do you say
that?"

"Because you don't hide anything. You put
yourself out there for the world to like or dislike."

Her face paled and her eyes glittered with emotion,
but he wasn't sure if it was anger or that very hurt he'd just mentioned. "You
don't like me?"

"I didn't say that." He caught his breath as
a slight breeze lifted her hair and brought a strand across her eyes. They both
reached for it at the same time, their hands colliding.

He could feel the softness of her cheek and a tingle
in his fingers when her hand touched his. Sparks. He'd heard of it happening,
but he'd never felt it before—until now. He let his hand fall back to his side,
and Katherine hastily tucked the hair behind her ear. She looked as stunned as
he felt, as if they'd both touched a hot stove and hadn't expected to get
burned.

Zach looked away from Katherine, letting his gaze
drift along

"I better go," Katherine said, heading
toward the sidewalk.

Zach followed her, thinking he would leave, get in his
truck and go home. Then she turned and smiled at him once more, and he felt
like he'd been sucker-punched.

"Thanks for checking up on me," she said. "That
was nice of you."

"I told you I'm not nice. Ask anyone."

"I prefer to make my own judgments, and I base
them on the man, not the father."

"I could give you ten reasons not to believe I'm
innocent."

Her gaze roamed across his face, searching for
something. He didn't know what.

"I'd never mistake you for innocent, Zach, but
that doesn't necessarily make you dishonorable. Why don't you come to Golden's
with me," she suggested.