Cruz went still. "Go on," he said, his voice a little tight.
"She's not running a crash pad or anything like that. Apparently she has some pretty tough rules, and she sticks to them, and that doesn't appeal to a lot of these kids."
"Rules?"
"Yeah. I found a kid who'd gone to her. Remember the Acklin kid, last year? The one who got caught up in that convenience-store holdup?"
"I remember," Cruz said.
He'd caught the case, one underage teen caught in a mess with three nineteen-year-old punks who had robbed the store and pistol-whipped the manager. The boy had insisted that he hadn't known they were planning anything like that, that he'd thought they were only going to steal some beer. Eventually Cruz had come to believe the kid, in part because the only things on his record were several runaway reports. Gage had gotten him started in the emancipated-minor procedure, and once out of an abusive home, the kid had turned it around.
"What about him?"
"He went to her once. But she kicked him out when he broke one of her four cardinal rules."
"Cardinal rules?"
"That's what she calls them, apparently. No drugs, no booze, you agree to get some kind of help to resolve the problem you're running from, and you tell her the truth. That's why the hard-core runaways don't bother, it's too much like being at home. But the ones who are just confused, who maybe want to go home but don't know how … those are the ones she helps."
"And she uses Oak Tree as a cover?" Cruz asked, shaking his head slightly.
"I don't know about that. But it would be an easy way to account for having kids coming and going. Her customers are only there a short time, so who would notice?"
"No wonder she didn't want me around," Cruz muttered.
"Is that what all that was about this afternoon?"
"Sort of."
"Why? I mean, unless she's doing something that could get her on a contributing rap—"
"Kelsey? Hardly."
"I didn't think so. But even then, at the most it'd be a misdemeanor. What does she think you're going to do?"
"She has some … definite ideas about cops," Cruz said. "If nothing else, I think she assumes I'd nail her for harboring a criminal."
"Harboring a—oh. The stuff the kid stole."
"Yeah. From what Melissa told her about her parents, I'd guess Kelsey believes they'd try to have Melissa held for that."
"Some parents would," Gage said.
"I know. Thanks for the info, Gage. Keep me posted."
"Right."
For a moment after he hung up, Cruz stood there with his hand on the receiver, considering. Then he dialed again, punching out his credit-card number swiftly from memory. After a quick conversation, he was on his way back to the table.
He paused a few feet away. Kelsey was, true to her word, keeping a close eye on Sam. The late-afternoon sun was streaming through the window, lighting her hair to crimson fire and silhouetting her profile; her upturned nose was at odds with the sensual fullness of her mouth, and he thought it was indicative of her whole personality; an unexpected innocence at war with an undiscovered sensuality.
And if he didn't stop thinking things like that, things that made the heat kick through him in sudden spurts, he was going to be in big trouble.
He started moving again and sat down opposite her.
"What next?" he asked.
She looked at him, and he saw the weariness in her expression. "Maybe I should ask you," she said, her voice mirroring her expression. "You're the cop."
"Then I'd say we go back to the house, and you get some rest. We'll start again in the morning."
"But I should go home."
"Do you have guests?"
"Well, no, not until next week, and Dolores is checking on things for me, but—"
"You're too tired to drive for over an hour."
"That's what you said last night."
"It was true then. It's true now. So we get some rest, then tomorrow we'll try again. Maybe we can find those kids Melissa mentioned. At least that gives us three to look for instead of just one."
"But we only have first names."
"I know. But you said she said they hung out at the beach, right?" At her nod, he went on. "That implies they don't live there. Which means they'll be out, and visible, not in a house. Makes it a little easier."
He didn't point out that easier, in this case, was a relative term; there was nothing easy about finding one kid amid the summer beach crowds that numbered well into the tens of thousands. But he also knew that a good part of police work consisted of ignoring the fact that the odds of you finding what you were looking for were stacked so high against you and going ahead anyway.
"Unless, of course," he went on before she could protest again, "the lodgings weren't to your liking. I can understand that. Not everybody likes to share a room with a menagerie."
"I didn't mind at all," she said quickly. "The bubbling of the aquariums was kind of soothing. And they were all very considerate. Slither, in particular."
This last seemed rather pointed, and he eyed her warily. "That snake," he muttered.
"He's really very well mannered," she said.
"Did Sam put you up to this?"
"Up to what?"
"Trying to sweet-talk me into letting that thing back into the house."
"Oh. No. But I do feel badly. It was mostly my fault. She was so excited to have somebody to show him to who didn't…"
Her voice trailed off awkwardly, and Cruz finished for her, rather grimly, "Hate the sight of him?"
"Something like that."
He gave her a steady look. "She still knows the rule. She broke it, and the snake's in the garage."
She looked down at the paper place mat, staring at the child's game printed on it as if it were the text of the Magna Carta and she had to memorize it.
"It's … good for kids to have some rules," she said after a long silent moment. "But there can be too many rules, too."
"I know. That's why I don't give her many. But those I give her are inviolable. I think you know you have to have at least a few … cardinal rules."
Her head came up sharply, and she stared at him, her tired green eyes searching his face. He waited for her to speak, to say something that told him she was ready to talk, to trust him enough to tell him the truth.
She looked down again without saying a word.
And Cruz was surprised at how much that hurt.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
Kelsey didn't know quite how she felt about this. At first she'd felt bad for Sam, but the little girl had been so excited that feeling sorry for her was impossible. Then she'd felt a recurrence of her pangs of guilt for taking up Cruz's vacation time, but he'd again made the point that it was his decision, not hers. And then she'd felt wary, not sure she liked how much the idea of his help—and his presence—appealed to her.
And above all, she was totally bewildered about why he was doing it at all. Asking Gage Butler to make a few phone calls was one thing; physically going out with her and spending hours on what would probably just be more fruitless searching was something else again.
And she didn't dare think about last night. Didn't dare think about how many times she'd awakened in the night and how hard she'd tried to blame it on some tiny movement from one of the little creatures she was sharing space with, when she knew perfectly well it was simply the presence of this man, down the hall from her.
She'd never had dreams like this, never had to quash urges like this. She didn't even know what these urges were, other than a need to see and touch far more of him than she had.
Thank heavens for ten-year-old chaperones, she thought.
"Dad used to get mad at me for this," Sam said cheerfully as she plopped her feet up on the back of Kelsey's seat. "But then he stopped."
"Oh?" Kelsey said, looking at the girl curiously.
"He said he could always get another truck, but
not another me," Sam explained, and Kelsey wondered again if the child had any idea how lucky she was. She stole a sideways glance at Cruz, who seemed more engrossed in making a left turn than was strictly necessary.
At last he pulled the truck to a stop in front of a small split-level house that had the look of an invitingly secluded cabin, thanks to the wealth of greenery and flowers that surrounded it.
Sam, who hadn't stopped chattering all morning, scrambled out of the truck, clutching her small suitcase.
"Come on," Cruz said, leaning in to look at Kelsey when she didn't exit the truck. "Ryan's still here. You can meet the real thing."
She thought of the drawing and wasn't at all sure she wanted to meet him, but at Sam's excited urging, she slid out of the truck and followed them. The front door of the house swung open before they reached the porch, and Kelsey heard an exaggerated female squeal of delight.
"Sammy!"
"Hi, Lacey!" Sam returned, sounding as delighted as the woman had. "I get to stay for three whole days!"
"I know, sweetie. I'm so excited. Come on in."
The child disappeared inside the house. Cruz paused at the top of the three steps, looking back at Kelsey. Slowly she came up even with him, looking at the woman who stood holding the door open.
"Kelsey Hall, Lacey Buckhart," Cruz said. He'd been doing a lot of introductions lately, Kelsey thought.
"Hello, Kelsey," the woman said.
Kelsey hesitated, although she wasn't sure why. There was nothing intimidating about the woman in the doorway, Kelsey thought, and her voice had been warm, as if the simple fact that she was with Cruz was enough to warrant welcome.
Like Kelsey herself, she wasn't model-thin or overwhelmingly gorgeous, there was no reason why she shouldn't feel comfortable with her. She had light brown hair cut in a smooth sweep almost like her own, and fair skin that was a bit unusual in this land of sun-worshippers.
And if Kelsey had ever doubted the validity of the phrase glowingly pregnant. Lacey Buckhart would have convinced her. She remembered that Cruz had said they'd lost one baby; perhaps that had something to do with the happiness that seemed to shimmer around Lacey Buckhart now.
"Come on in. Ryan's getting ready for work."
They stepped inside. Kelsey felt an immediate sense of liking. The soft, muted peach of the living room walls perfectly set off the rich jewel tones of the chairs, sofa and pillows. The room was as warm and welcoming as the woman herself.
"Would you like some coffee?" Lacey asked. "That is," she added with a laugh, "if you can stand what Ryan calls coffee. I've sworn off."
"Lacey's gonna have a baby," Sam explained to Kelsey.
Lacey laughed and patted the gentle protrusion beneath her sweater. "I think she can probably tell that."
"Congratulations. When?" Kelsey asked; Lacey appeared further along than Melissa, but perhaps it was just the difference of being happy and well cared-for.
"Thank you. We're very happy about it. And four months," Lacey added with a smile, then turned at a sound from across the room. The look that crossed her face then gave Kelsey that oddly wistful feeling again; never in her life had she even seen anyone literally light up at the sight of someone else, let alone felt that way herself. But there was no other way to describe it. Slowly she turned to look at the man who stood in the hallway, talking to Cruz.
Ryan Buckhart was everything Cruz's dramatic drawing had promised. And more. Tall, broad-shouldered, solidly, strong, with his long dark hair, bronze skin and high cheekbones, he was exotically striking. He stood there in a pair of dark pants and an unbuttoned white shirt, baring a wide strip of ridged belly and broad chest. Powerfully, uncompromisingly male.
Kelsey knew she was gaping, but she couldn't help it. Her gaze flicked to Lacey as she wondered what kind of woman it would take to keep up with this man. Lacey was watching her with an expression that said she'd seen this reaction countless times before.
"Better you than me," Kelsey whispered, just loud enough for Lacey to hear.
Lacey looked startled, then smiled, her expression this time one of friendly appreciation. "He is … amazing, isn't he?"
There was such pure love in her tone that Kelsey couldn't help smiling.
"Uncle Ryan!"
Sam's delighted cry made both Kelsey and Lacey smile, and as the girl ran to him and he bent and picked her up easily, swinging her in the air as she laughed, Kelsey knew that there were tender depths to this man that weren't immediately apparent.
"That's Ryan," Lacey said. "Charms women of all ages."
Kelsey looked at her, but there was no sign of resentfulness in Lacey's voice or face. She wore the calm, confident expression of a woman utterly secure in her man's love.
"So, how long have you known Cruz?" Lacey asked.
Again she didn't know how to answer that. Added up, she'd really only spent a month with him, but she felt as if she'd known him much longer. So this time she tried to explain in a different way.
"He's been coming to my inn every summer for a few years."
Lacey's brows rose. "So you're where he goes to?"
Kelsey colored. "Not me, the inn. It's a lovely setting, very peaceful."
Lacey looked at her assessingly, then glanced at Cruz, who was, Kelsey realized with a little shock, looking at her.
"I'll tell you," Lacey said, "if I wasn't so crazy about that stubborn Indian, I'd give you a run for your money with that one. He's a good man. The best. He's been with us through some tough times."
Kelsey's blush deepened. "I… We … we're not…"
Her voice trailed off awkwardly, and Lacey's smile widened. "Not yet, anyway," she said rather archly. Then she raised her voice. "Ryan? Come meet Kelsey."
The big man looked over at them. For a moment, Kelsey saw the same look of utter love and tenderness, a look that transformed his face. Then, as he started across the room toward them, he began to button his shirt, a modest gesture that made Kelsey smile inwardly. But when she realized Cruz was following Ryan, she felt a sudden tension begin to build anew inside her.
Ryan came to a halt beside his wife, slipping an arm around her. Lacey leaned into him in a movement that was clearly second nature to her. And to him. The sight of this big, powerful man so solicitously handling the much smaller woman warmed Kelsey.
She glanced at Cruz, remembering the rest of what he'd said about the Buckharts.
…behind the badge is just a man, a man who felt unbelievable pain when he and Lacey lost their first baby, a man whose divorce devastated him, because he never stopped loving his wife, so much so that he changed himself, his entire approach to life, to get her back…
Cruz's words echoed in her mind, and as she looked at the two of them, she saw not just the very striking couple they made, but two people who had fought hard for what they had now, two people who had earned this closeness that fairly radiated from them.
"Hello, Kelsey," Ryan said, studying her with an intensity that made her nervous.
"Hello," she said tentatively.
He just kept looking at her, studying her with those intense, dark eyes, until she shifted uncomfortably.
"Don't mind us," Lacey said with a laugh. "It's just that Cruz has never brought anyone for us to meet before."
Kelsey thought her cheeks must be the color of that deep red pillow on the sofa by now. She was afraid Cruz would instantly deny any connection between them of the kind Lacey obviously meant, and she tried to think of something neutral to say.
Before she could, Cruz spoke, in a mock-grumbling tone. "You sound like my parents."
Ryan chuckled. "Speaking of which, how are they?"
That diverted the conversation into safer territory and gave Kelsey a chance to recover. She wondered if Cruz had intended it that way, but decided that since he had—thankfully—no idea how people's seemingly persistent need to link them affected her, he probably had just wanted to avoid explaining again.
It was a moment before she had her ner
ves settled enough to pay attention to the conversation again.
"…have a great time, won't we, Sam?" Lacey was saying.
"'Course," the girl agreed. "We always do."
"Thanks again," Cruz said. "And about the animals… I should be there to feed—"
"We'll do fine," Lacey assured him. "It's not like your house is that far away. We can stop in every day so Sam can tend them."
"Hope you get this resolved," Ryan said to Cruz, making Kelsey wonder what Cruz had told them.
"I won't mess up your weekend plans to be alone with your wife," Cruz said, winking at Lacey.
"You'd best not," Lacey said with clearly mock severity. "It may be the last time we're alone for a long time."
"Yeah," Ryan said, moving his hand to rest it gently on the swell of his wife's belly. Then, reluctantly, he said, "I've got to get moving, or I'll be late."
"At least Robards won't chew on you for it," Cruz said.
Ryan laughed. "Thanks to my wife, he's been pretty much off my back."
It wasn't until they were back in his truck that Cruz explained. "Lacey caught the charming lieutenant acting … let's just say decidedly unheroically. She made a deal with him that as long as he left Ryan alone, she'd keep her mouth shut."
She thought of the man she'd seen in the hallway and the way Cruz had quickly gotten her out of sight. "Why was Robards on Ryan's back in the first place?"
Cruz started the engine and eased out onto the roadway. "Lots of reasons. Ryan's a damn good cop. He's tough and smart, and he stays on top of things. Everything Robards isn't." He slowed for the stop sign at the end of the Buckharts' quiet street. "But most of all, he hates him for the same reason he hates me."
Kelsey blinked. "What?"
Cruz held up his hand. Kelsey looked at it, then his face, not understanding. He reached out and grasped her wrist with his fingers. The heat of his touch sent her pulse rocketing, and all she could think of, inanely, was that he was surely going to know it, with his fingers right on her inner wrist like that.
She stared down at his hand, trying to think, to figure out what he was trying to say. And finally it struck her, as she at last noticed the contrast between her fair skin and his own golden tint. And remembered the contrast between Lacey's creamy complexion and Ryan's bronze.
A MAN TO TRUST Page 15
