In His Sights

by Justine Davis

  She looked at Rand with a new appreciation. He was even more charming than she’d thought. And, she admitted ruefully, even better-looking. In the casual wear she’d seen him in up until tonight he was handsome enough, but in the sweater he’d donned, a heavy pullover in a deep blue that made his eyes fairly glow, he was…spectacular, she thought wryly.

  And young, she reminded herself. Too young. She tore her gaze from him in the moment before he turned in her direction. She studied her dessert plate. Suddenly the landslide of chocolate on it wasn’t so appealing. She set down her fork, wondering who had selected that sweater for him. Female, no doubt. A woman would realize what that color would do for his eyes. Not to mention the high unlikelihood of a man like Rand not having a woman in his life. Perhaps more than one. As many, she told herself, as he wanted to have. You didn’t look like he did and not have them beating down your door.

  All of which was, she told herself rather sternly, academic. It wasn’t as if she had any interest in him that way, of course. But she could appreciate. From a distance, anyway. As her grandmother had often teased her, “It doesn’t cost a thing to window shop.”

  But any further idiotic musings on her part could end up costing her in one way or another. And she didn’t have much emotional serenity to spare. Her ex had begun the process of decimation the death of her child had finished. She’d fought back, but there were moments when it was still touch and go. So it would stop. Now.

  Decision made, Kate determined to treat him like any other casual acquaintance. In line with that, she offered to split the bill with him; he’d chosen the best and most expensive restaurant for thirty miles around. He thanked her, but refused the offer.

  “It was my suggestion, my treat. And my pleasure,” he added with a smile that almost made her forget all the vows she’d just made to herself.

  “Thank you, then,” she said, turning to open the door for her grandparents as Rand paid the bill.

  The bite of approaching winter was in the air, and Kate drew in a deep breath, savoring the clean, crisp feel of it. She loved this time of year, and took pleasure in the simple act of watching her breath in the cold.

  “You really love this place, don’t you?”

  Rand had slowed to her strolling pace, letting her grandparents move ahead. She nodded. “I do. It’s home. Always has been, no matter where I’ve gone. I only left because I got a job offer I thought I couldn’t refuse.” She gave him a sideways glance. “What’s home for you?”

  He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Southern California, I suppose. That’s where I grew up, anyway. But for me, home’s wherever my folks are.”

  Kate felt a sudden tightness in her throat. She wondered what it must be like, to have parents like that. To have parents who were the core of your life, always there for you, and you for them. She had that kind of relationship with her grandparents, but it wasn’t the same. Their relationship came with the built-in knowledge that she’d lose them too soon, too early. She tried not to think about it, but she had learned long ago painful thoughts didn’t go away just because she wanted them to.

  “Your mom and dad must be wonderful.” She heard the wistfulness in her voice too late to stop it. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said hastily. “Gram and Gramps have been wonderful, and I love them very dearly. But I always wondered what it would have been like if my parents had been…different.”

  He looked at her for a long moment before saying quietly, “You make me want to call mine and thank them.”

  “Do that,” she said, rather fervently.

  “I do, frequently. But maybe an extra thank-you won’t hurt.”

  He’s nice, Kate thought later as they climbed into his rented SUV. She had to work to remember how suspicious she’d been of him at first. But after tonight she just couldn’t doubt any longer that he was as nice as he seemed.

  He drove smoothly, taking what seemed to her extra care she assumed was for her grandparents, which she appreciated. And when they pulled up at the house, he quickly got out and came around to help them out of the car and walk them up to the door. She followed, but said good-night at the door, not wanting Gram to make the inevitable offer of coffee or tea; it was late for them, and she knew they were tired.

  “I’ll be in after I walk Kate to her car,” Rand told them and closed the door.

  “I’m fine,” she began.

  “Of course,” he agreed, but stayed beside her.

  “You don’t need to do this, I’m parked right here.”

  “I know.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so said nothing. She got out her keys and opened the driver’s door. He held it for her as she got in.

  “Thank you for going tonight,” he said.

  “Thank you. They don’t get out often enough.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  She blinked. “Tomorrow?”

  “Dinner. I want to try this steak place I found over near the ferry landing.”

  “Sloan’s?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

  “It’s a good restaurant.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at your place at seven.”

  Before she could even respond he closed her car door, stepped back, and waved. She reached down to open her window, but he’d already turned on his heel and headed for the house at a trot, leaving her gaping after him. And wondering exactly when she’d agreed to go on a date with him.

  Chapter 11

  Rand struggled to stay focused. He’d been running short on sleep for days now. For all the good his constant watching had done; the facility had been hit again. And he still had no idea how it was being done.

  Nor could he, no matter how much he might want to, eliminate Kate from the suspect list. He didn’t know what she’d been up to on the night of the last theft, but the fact that she had varied her routine on that night in particular sent up a red flag he couldn’t afford to ignore.

  But at least he felt like he was making progress on that front. He wasn’t used to having to work so hard to get closer to a woman. And the moment that thought formed in his head he grimaced at the arrogance of it, even though it was true and had been most of his life. He’d tried never to abuse it—his mother had seen to that—and he didn’t think he had. The knowledge that his looks were all many people saw was in the past. Why he’d fallen so hard for Donna, who had seen him at his worst.

  He pushed the memories away and turned back to the present situation.

  But while Kate might not be eager to spend time with him, she no longer dodged him, and she’d actually let him get away with the steamroller routine about dinner tonight.

  Of course, if he was going to be at all coherent on that occasion, he thought, he was going to have to get some sleep. Normally he could run at length on four or five hours a night, but he hadn’t been getting even that lately. Mostly because when he did get to bed he wasn’t sleeping. Not well, anyway. He spent too much time thinking about the thefts.

  And Kate.

  And coming up with few answers about either of them.

  He was pleased when he arrived at her door to find her ready to go; he’d been half convinced she would back out. She was dressed simply, in a white, silky-looking blouse and tailored black slacks, but he’d been in the casual Northwest long enough now to realize that this was fancy dress. Her hair was loose, minus her usual clip, and the shifting gleam of it as she walked made his breath catch. Her eyes seemed more golden than ever and he wondered if she’d used some subtle makeup. Then he wondered if she’d done it for him, or the restaurant they were headed to. Then told himself not to be an idiot, the woman had shown no sign of wanting to flatter him.

  Still, he complimented her as smoothly as he could.

  “Thank you,” she said, and left it at that. No dissembling, no self-deprecation, just a simple acceptance. Either she was used to compliments—or she thought he was just being polite. He had no idea which was more likely.


  “You look nice yourself,” she said, surprising him.

  “I— Thank you,” he said in turn, following her lead. And realizing with no small amount of ruefulness that in his case, he was certain she was just being polite. He was struck, not for the first time, with a strange wish that this date was for real, that they really were just two people getting to know each other out of a mutual interest.

  Shaking it off, at least for the moment, he tried to focus on the job at hand. Until, as they waited for their meal, she startled him again by asking him out of the blue, “Is there a Mrs. Singleton?”

  He blinked. And said with full intent, “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  Did she sound disappointed? He couldn’t tell. Which irritated him; he was usually better at reading people. But maybe, just maybe, he was making progress. Relieved at that idea, he watched her face carefully as he gave her the explanation.

  “I mean my mother, of course. No Mrs. Rand Singletons around.”

  Her mouth quirked.

  “Sorry,” he said, grinning. “Couldn’t resist.”

  “Cute.”

  Her expression told him she accepted the joke, weak as it was. The grin ceased as he continued. “Anyway, I was close once, but it didn’t happen.”

  It was a rather bloodless way of speaking of what had at the time been the biggest emotional disaster of his life, he thought. It had taken him a long time and a lot of effort to reach that sort of calm about it, and even now it caused a twinge.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was for the best,” he said. And somewhat belatedly realized the logical next step in a normal conversation. “So, what about you?” he asked, silently chewing himself out for forgetting for a moment that she had no idea how much he already knew about her.

  “Married once,” she said. “Didn’t last.”

  He knew there was more to it, but he merely nodded. “It happens,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  There was an undertone in that one word that spoke volumes. It was subtle, and had he not known about Kate’s past, he might have missed it. He wasn’t the only one with scars sitting at this table—he just didn’t know how deep hers ran.

  Over dinner the conversation turned light, became about the inconsequential things that any casual acquaintances might talk about over dinner. And any time he tried to steer into deeper waters she deftly turned him back. He redoubled his efforts, but that only resulted in her adopting a light, teasing tone that warned him she wasn’t taking him at all seriously.

  “So where shall we go tomorrow night?” he asked in a last-ditch effort as he calculated the tip and signed the check. She only laughed. He finished, then looked up at her. “I said something funny?”

  “No,” she said, “you’re just acting funny.”

  “I am?” he asked carefully. “Asking out a very attractive woman is funny?”

  She shook her head, her smile never wavering. “Tell me, Rand, did you have crushes on your female teachers when you were in school?”

  “What?”

  “When you were in school, did you—”

  “I heard you. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “Wondering what?”

  She shrugged. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  She looked as surprised as most people did when they learned his age, thanks to that baby face of his that was as much curse as blessing. But that didn’t stop her from making what was apparently her point.

  “Do you know I’m nearly a decade older than you?” she asked.

  In fact, he had known it. The detail had been in her Redstone file. But he had completely forgotten about it because she didn’t seem any older than he was, and she certainly didn’t look it. And also because he had never imagined it would play into this case.

  And it never would have mattered, if you hadn’t let things get out of control. Personally out of control, he lectured himself silently.

  “Is that why you’re acting like I’m one of the kids you mentor?” he asked, aware even as he said it that his voice sounded like one of those kids in a snit.

  “I’m forty-one, Rand.”

  “So?” he said, knowing it sounded lame.

  Kate smiled, almost sadly. Then she let out a sigh that implied he was being deliberately stubborn about acknowledging a simple truth.

  Perhaps he was, he thought. It bothered him that she would let such a minor thing as age get in the way. Bothered him too much; much more than if this were strictly business. But he couldn’t seem to help his reaction.

  Out of control was definitely the right way to put it, he muttered inwardly. Whether in frustration or irritation he couldn’t have said.

  “You,” Dorothy Crawford told her granddaughter, “need to get a life.”

  Kate sighed, thinking she’d been doing an awful lot of sighing lately. Especially since she’d gone out with Rand last week. “So you’ve said,” she replied neutrally. “Often.”

  She continued unloading bags of groceries into the cupboards without further comment. Again Mr. Turner had refused to take their money, insisting there was more than enough left out of the money “that young man” had given him to cover today’s purchases.

  That young man, Kate thought, was a nuisance. He simply wouldn’t give up on trying to get her to go out with him again. She had thought pointing out the gap in their ages would have stifled his interest, but it seemed to have done the opposite.

  If he just didn’t look so young, she thought glumly. Maybe she could get past him being only thirty-three if it wasn’t for that.

  “—forever?”

  She made herself tune back in to her grandmother’s words. “What, Gram?”

  “I asked you if you were going to let the past rule you forever.”

  It was unusual for Gram to mention the past—Kate’s at least—at all, and she went still.

  “Gram,” she began.

  “Don’t you deny it,” her grandmother said sternly. “You’ve held everyone but us at arm’s length ever since you came back home.”

  “I haven’t,” she protested. “I simply don’t have any spare time.”

  “You make sure you don’t have time for anything but work,” her grandmother retorted.

  “Gram,” she tried again.

  “You know I don’t stick my nose into your business, but I’ve just got to say that Dan isn’t worth this. He’s the one who left, the one who couldn’t accept. He’s the one who didn’t have the staying power.”

  “It has nothing to do with Dan,” Kate said, her voice tight.

  “Then why are you avoiding going out with Rand?”

  “I went to dinner with him,” she pointed out.

  “Once. And I know he’s asked you again.”

  “Oh? And just how do you know that?”

  “He told me.”

  Great, Kate thought wryly. Now he’s enlisting my own grandmother.

  “He’s eight years younger than I am.”

  “So?”

  Her grandmother’s echoing of Rand’s reaction nearly made her smile, easing the tension that had grown in her when Gram had introduced the subject.

  “That’s a lot,” she said, her tone milder now.

  “And there’s a lot to be said for younger men,” her grandmother said.

  “Gram!” she exclaimed in exaggerated tones. “I’m absolutely shocked!”

  “And I’m fifty years married, not dead,” her grandmother said, but she was chuckling as she said it.

  Impulsively Kate put down the package of spaghetti she’d been putting away and turned to give her grandmother a fierce hug.

  “I love you, Gram.”

  “I love you too, dear. But,” she added in an admonishing tone, “you still need to get that life.”

  Gram was wrong, of course, Kate thought as she headed home. She had a perfectly satisfactory life. And she hadn’t really hurried in order to be gone before Rand
returned to the house for the evening.

  Not much, anyway.

  What Gram didn’t realize was how hard it really was to resist Rand’s charm. It would be hard for any woman, she was sure, but to one who had been alone as long as she had, it was doubly difficult. Why he had set his sights on her she couldn’t imagine. There had to be countless women who would adore the attention from him, would love for him to want a relationship. If her life were a little simpler right now, she might actually consider it herself.

  But right now she could only hope he gave up before she gave in.

  When the phone rang just after midnight, Kate sat up and stared at it for a moment, befuddled. There hadn’t been a shipment tonight, so what on earth would someone be calling her at this hour for?

  Rubbing at one bleary eye she picked up the handset, looked at the caller ID screen and saw who the call was from. Her heart leaped to her throat in a rush of worry. She pushed the talk button hurriedly.

  “Gram? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Rand.”

  Kate blinked at the sound of his voice. What was he doing on her grandparents’ phone at this hour? And why was he calling her?

  “Kate,” he said, and she knew from the way he said it she wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “We’re taking your grandmother to the hospital.”

  Chapter 12

  Kate’s stomach plummeted.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not Gram.”

  She shivered almost violently at the thought of losing the woman who had raised and taught and loved her.

  “Tell me,” she said, barely managing to get the words out. Her hand tightened on the phone as she braced herself to hear the worst.

  “She’s having some chest pains.”

  Oh, God. “Have you called the paramedics?”

  “She wouldn’t allow it,” he said.

  She was tempted to tell him to call them anyway, but she knew her grandmother’s stubborn streak.

  “And,” he added, “I don’t think it’s that bad, it’s already easing, but still it was enough that I don’t want to leave it until morning to have her checked.”