Nolie was torn between hoping he would agree and wanting to stay home. Though she would love to go out in public with him, they were sure to run into people he knew who would want to say hello. Besides, there was something awfully nice about a quiet, private family meal.
When Chase looked at her, one brow raised, she shrugged, leaving the decision to him. He studied her a moment, then turned back to his sister. “Why go to McCauley’s when Nolie’s teaching me how to grill steaks? You two go to the store, I’ll watch the kids, and when you get back, I’ll show you what I’ve learned.”
Grinning, Leanne stood up. “Sounds great. Get some shoes on, Nolie, quick, before the kids realize we’re sneaking out.”
Nolie was almost at the top of the stairs when Leanne spoke again. “One more question, Chase. You and Nolie . . . is it serious? Because, you know, I’ve always wanted a sister.”
Nolie couldn’t help it. She stopped at the top of the stairs, not moving, not breathing, and listened for his response. If it was verbal, though, she couldn’t hear it.
It was just as well. If he was serious or if he wasn’t . . . a woman should learn information like that firsthand, not pick it up eavesdropping.
Though darned if she wouldn’t take it any way she could get it.
Chapter Fourteen
SINCE HIS ARRIVAL IN BETHLEHEM, COLE HAD made a practice of having lunch most weekdays at Harry’s, the place to see and be seen. He’d learned more about the town and its residents in that thirty or forty minutes each day than he could have picked up in a week elsewhere. He was a regular now, had his usual table, and was greeted by all the other regulars when he walked in the door.
But Monday, Tuesday, and again on Wednesday, he’d called the sub shop around the corner and asked them to send up a sandwich. He didn’t feel like being a regular today—didn’t want to smile and joke and be friendly as hell.
He wanted out of Bethlehem.
The town was getting too comfortable. Sometimes he caught himself thinking about it as a permanent relocation, as if he would be there weeks or months down the line. As if his future was there.
And the people . . . Since Leanne had understandably spent Sunday getting reacquainted with her long-absent brother, he’d gone to church that morning and dragged Ryan along. The elderly sisters who lived a few blocks away had invited them to dinner, and everyone had made them feel as if—as if they belonged. The kids had welcomed Ryan into their midst without reservation, and the adults had done the same to Cole. They’d liked him, trusted him, been open and honest and friendly.
While he’d done nothing but lie since he set foot in this town.
If he had a conscience, he would think the town had gotten to him, but he’d been raised conscience-free. By the time he was ten, his father had taught him everything a boy needed to know about picking pockets and picking locks, choosing a mark and relieving him—or her—of whatever it was you wanted, creating a diversion and feigning innocence, sacrificing your partners and saving your own hide. Any gaps left in his education by his father had been filled in by his mother. His parents had been the best con artists the great state of Texas ever produced.
And he was better than both.
For the first time in too many years—maybe ever—he didn’t find any pride in that.
He slumped lower in his leather chair and scowled at the diamond cuff links on the desk blotter. Funny that a boy from the wrong side of the tracks in Dallas could be living in the Miller mansion, driving a sixty-thousand-dollar Lexus, and wearing diamond cuff links. None of it was his, of course. The Lexus was a rental. By the time the deal fell through on the house, he would be long gone, and the cuff links he’d stolen from a rich divorcée in Palm Beach.
There wasn’t much in life that was his. Even the things he’d bought, like this Armani suit, had been paid for with money he’d taken from others.
No wonder Ryan had thought nothing of stealing all those books for his personal library. Cole had thought if he kept the kid out of the business—his only unbreakable rule—Ryan would grow up decent and law-abiding, but how could he expect the kid to show respect for the law when he saw Cole and the rest of the family breaking it all the time?
The kid deserved a better family.
He damn well deserved a better father.
A soft knock at the open door interrupted his brooding. Expecting the tall, gangly kid from the sandwich shop, he looked up to find Nolie Harper instead. “Hi. I guess your secretary’s out, so . . .”
He glanced past her to the empty desk in the waiting room. “I don’t have one.” A secretary was a luxury he couldn’t afford, not when the investment opportunities he was selling didn’t exist, certainly not when the clients’ money he was taking in had already been funneled to a different bank account under a different name, just waiting for him to leave Bethlehem and reclaim it.
“The kid at the sub shop was too busy to deliver this, so I volunteered.” She came farther into the room to hand over a paper bag. “He said to tell you he’ll put it on your tab.”
Another trusting soul he’d be stiffing. His jaw tightened. “Thanks. How are you feeling?”
Her face turned a becoming pink. “I’m fine.”
“Tired of people asking you that?”
“A little.” She glanced around the office, appraising it. Everything was top quality. One of Cole’s earliest lessons had been that a man had to spend money to make money. The chairs were leather, the bookcase solid oak. The file cabinets—mostly empty—were oak, too, and antiques, as was the desk. The fountain pen resting on an open file was a Mont Blanc and cost about the same as a good used car. It was stolen, too, from the same widow who’d provided his cuff links.
The office was impressive, an efficient tool in gaining his marks’—his clients’—trust. And their money.
“Can I ask you something?”
He raised both hands palm up. “Ask away.”
“You’ve been awfully busy since you came here, building your client base, visiting all the business owners in town. But you’ve never approached me. Why not?”
Good question. Granted, Hiram’s Feed Store didn’t appear to be the most prosperous business in town, but he knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. Maybe he’d given her a break because she was so young and widowed and raising her little girl alone, or he’d decided not to part her from her money because they came from the same part of the country.
Or maybe it was because she was a friend of Leanne’s.
Sentimental crap.
He smiled his used-car salesman’s smile. “You’re on my list. Are you looking to invest?”
She shrugged, then slid into the chair across from him. “My husband died three years ago, and I’m saving his life insurance for Micahlyn’s college. It’s been in CDs, but the last time they matured, I stuck them in a savings account until I could decide what else to do. If you have something better to suggest . . .”
Yeah. Keep yourself and your money far, far away from me. That money would be better served spending the next twelve years in a low-interest savings account than in providing him flash money for another scam in another town.
Still, he didn’t turn her away. That wasn’t the Jackson way. “Let me put something together for you, and I’ll bring it by the store.”
She smiled, as open and honest and trusting as all the other damn fools in this town, and stood up. “Okay. Thanks.”
He walked with her to the reception door, watched her leave, then closed that door and returned to his desk. “Oh, yeah, babe. Thank me for screwing your daughter out of an education.”
He unwrapped the sandwich, stared at it a moment or so, then tossed it in the trash.
It seemed he’d lost his appetite.
AS NOLIE CARRIED LUNCH INTO THE FEED STORE, she noticed the bell over the door remained silent. She gazed up at it a moment, wondering exactly who to call to fix it. She was pretty sure there wasn’t a listing in the Yellow Pages for �
�Annoying bells over doors in stores.” Maybe she would just let it stay broken. After all, it was annoying, and it wasn’t as if the store was so big that she wouldn’t notice a customer.
Chase was kicked back in her chair, his feet propped on the desk, when she walked behind the counter. He laid down the magazine he’d been reading and let his gaze slide over her in that way that made her knees weak and her heart pitter-patter. “You’re back.”
Oh, yeah, and about to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. She managed to open the drawer where her purse went on the third try, then set the sandwiches on the counter. Though they were wrapped in identical wrappers, they were easy to tell apart. His was the monster with everything on it, including two kinds of melted cheese and a rich creamy dressing, while hers was the roasted chicken with no cheese, no dressing, no anything but a handful of pickles and onions. Yes, she was back on her diet, and doing pretty well. Stripping down naked every night with a gorgeous man provided an incentive she’d never had before.
“Any customers?” she asked as she handed his sandwich and a bag of chips to him, then slid onto the stool with her own sandwich and baked chips.
“No one I couldn’t handle.”
“I should hope there’s no one in this county a hotshot Boston lawyer couldn’t handle.”
His only response to that was a vague nod. In the past few days, he’d come clean about a lot of stuff—Leanne had left him little choice—but he was still evasive or downright nonresponsive when his law career came up. He’d told Leanne he didn’t want to practice law any longer, but being a lawyer was all he’d ever wanted to be, she’d reminded him the night before. It was what he’d excelled at—what he’d loved.
Not that his reasons really mattered to Nolie. Hey, she’d gone and fallen in love with the guy without even knowing his last name. She wasn’t going to quibble about a minor matter like a career change.
“I stopped by Cole Jackson’s office on my way back,” she announced.
“Why?”
“I offered to deliver his lunch to him because the sub shop was so busy, plus I wanted to talk to him about investing Micahlyn’s college money.”
Chase scowled. “What do you know about this guy?”
“I like him. About half the town’s got their money invested with him. And your sister’s pretty much in love with him.”
“Well, there’s a good reason not to trust him. Leanne admits herself that her taste in men sucks.”
It was hard to argue the facts, so she just shrugged. “I think Cole’s different.”
“Or maybe you’re just dazzled by his blond hair and blue eyes.”
“Good-looking blonds are a dime a dozen. I happen to prefer dark hair and brown eyes.”
“But you think he’s good-looking.”
“Heavens, yes.” Then she smiled primly. “But I think you’re gorgeous.”
The compliment pleased him, but at the same time it turned his eyes dark and wary. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again and grimaced.
The moment sent a wary shiver down her spine. He still had secrets, and sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if one of them was that he was merely amusing himself with her. Most of the time, she didn’t believe it—he was so sweet and so sincere—but she still had her weenie moments when it was easier to believe he was using her than that he was falling in love with her.
He drew a breath as if he needed it badly, then returned to the subject. “Before you give this guy any money, let me check him out, okay? Just to be sure.”
“Okay.” It seemed a reasonable suggestion, though she was certain others in Bethlehem had already done so.
A quick rush of customers arrived as soon as they’d finished lunch. Once the store was quiet again, Chase turned on the radio, then slid his arms around Nolie from behind and lowered his mouth to her ear. “If it stays quiet this afternoon, I have a suggestion to liven things up.”
“I bet you do,” she replied with a smile and a lazy sigh. “You always have something in mind.”
“And you enjoy every minute of it.”
“Absolutely.” She turned, then slid onto the counter. He immediately stepped between her legs, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed his just-awakening erection against her.
“We could make love right here, right now,” he teased. “We wouldn’t even have to undress, since you so conveniently wore a dress today. All I’d have to do is lift your skirt”—he did so, bunching the fabric around her waist— “and undo my jeans and slide inside you right here.” He scraped one fingertip over the crotch of her panties, pulling the cotton taut and making her whimper.
“Wh-what about the-the windows?” she murmured breathlessly. “Someone c-could see.”
“That’s part of the fun. Besides, all they could really see is that we’re doing something and it might be indecent, but—”
“Excuse me.”
The voice came from behind Nolie, and startled them both. He jerked away a few inches as she yanked down her skirt, scrambled off the counter, and—her face burning— whirled around to see who had interrupted.
She stared.
And stared.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”
Chase was standing close behind her—probably to hide the fact that he was turned on, she thought blankly. As if she didn’t have much bigger problems to worry about.
“Nolie?” He laid one hand on her shoulder, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the couple standing in front of them.
“Oh, my God,” she repeated. “Marlene. Obie. What are you doing here?”
THERE WAS NOTHING PARTICULARLY REMARKABLE about Nolie’s in-laws. Obie Harper stood just under six feet, was a large, muscular man with a belly protruding over his belt, and had steel-gray hair and the weathered look of a man who’d spent most of his life outside. Marlene Harper had probably been pretty at one time in her life, but now she mostly looked tired. She was a half-foot shorter than her husband, sturdily trim in the way women of a certain age managed, and her hair was brown streaked with blond, probably to hide her gray hair. Her mouth was pursed in an angry, bitter line that reminded Chase of Saturday’s glimpse of his mother.
Life had let Marlene Harper down, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore.
Nolie pressed one hand to her chest. Her heart was probably pounding like his. Getting caught making out was bad enough, but getting caught by her in-laws, who weren’t even supposed to be on this side of the Mississippi . . .
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked again.
Obie started to speak, but Marlene stilled him with one hand on his arm. “Where are your manners, Nolie? I know your mama raised you better than that. Introduce us.”
“M-Marlene, Obie, this is Chase Wilson. Chase, my-my in-laws.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder, her gaze worried. Chase reassured her the only way he could, touching his hand lightly to her spine, out of sight of the older couple.
At least she didn’t refer to him as the man who rents my cabin, he thought humorlessly as he moved to stand beside her and extended his hand. “Mrs. Harper, Mr. Harper.”
The older couple eyed his hand suspiciously, neither of them deigning to shake it. So where were their manners? Didn’t their mamas raise them better than that? he wondered cynically.
“I’m-I’m surprised to see you,” Nolie said, then baldly asked again, “What are you doing here?”
Again, it was Marlene who responded. “We’re looking out for our granddaughter’s best interests. Someone has to.”
Uh-oh. Chase shifted a few inches away from Nolie. This wasn’t good. Grandparents showing up out of the blue, hostile as hell, spouting about the best interests of their grandchild . . . not good at all. And finding their daughter-in-law necking on the counter in the middle of the day with the boyfriend who wasn’t their son . . . Damn.
Marlene’s sanctimonious pronouncement had one good effect—it shook the embarrassment and nervousness right out of
Nolie. She quit smoothing her hands over her skirt as if she could erase the fact that it’d been up to her waist when they walked in, and rested her palms flat against the counter. “Yes,” she agreed, her voice even and cool. “Someone does have to look out for Micahlyn—her mother. That’s me. So . . . let me ask you for the last time. Why are you here?”
Finally Obie found his backbone and ignored his wife’s gesture to let her do the talking. “We miss you and Mikey. We just wanted to make sure everything’s all right and to have a look-see at this new home”—when Marlene elbowed him in the ribs, he colored and corrected himself—“this new town of yours.”
“Where is Mikey?” Marlene asked.
“In day care.”
“Tell us where and we’ll go get her.”
A few days ago, in a poetic and painfully aroused state, Chase had compared the color of Nolie’s eyes to a summer sky. More like a stormy summer sky at the moment. “You can’t. Chase is the only one besides me who can pick her up.”
That didn’t set well with Marlene. Her face took on a mottled look, and she was preparing to voice her displeasure when Nolie went on. “Have you guys had lunch, or can I get you some coffee or pop?”
“A cup of coffee would be . . .” Obie trailed off after a shrewish look from his wife.
Smiling tightly, Nolie went to the end of the counter, where a coffeemaker shared space with foam cups, creamer, and sugar. Neither of them were big coffee drinkers, but she’d learned a fair number of customers appreciated a cup while they gabbed—er, shopped. She stirred in one cream and two sugars, then handed the cup across the counter. Obie softened his taut smile with a wink his wife didn’t see.
“What about you, Marlene? Can I get you something?”
“Yes. My granddaughter.”
“Why don’t you get settled in—”
“We’ve done that. We’ve got a room at the motel up the road.”
That bit of news did nothing to ease the sense of foreboding settled in Chase’s stomach. These four people had lived together for three years, and yet on their very first visit, the Harpers not only showed up without warning, but checked into a motel without even considering the possibility of staying with Nolie?
Cabin Fever Page 28
