"Sounds good," she agreed. "What can I do to help?"
"Just sit there and stay out of my way." He gave her a supercilious grin. "As a master chef, I need plenty of room to create my masterpieces."
As he worked, she watched silently, admiring the efficiency of his motions, the familiar ease he exhibited. She also couldn't help but notice that the faded jeans he wore fit him to perfection, emphasizing his long legs and lean hips.
Occasionally she got up and peeked into the living room to make sure the boys were okay and happily occupied in the playpen.
"You like to cook," she observed as he eased the omelet out of the skillet and onto a plate.
"Yeah, I do," he said, as if surprised to recognize the fact himself. "I don't take the time to do it very often, but when I do, I enjoy it." He cut the omelet in half and slid one half onto another plate and set it before her. He made some toast, buttered it and added that to the table, then he poured them each a cup of coffee.
"It looks good," Carolyn said as he sat down across from her. "I'm sorry I never learned to do any cooking."
"It's never too late to learn a new skill," he replied. "I think it's particularly important for boys to know how to cook." He grinned. "So that they don't starve if they marry a woman who can't."
"I may not be able to cook, but I certainly know my fairy tales better than you," she teased.
He laughed and nodded, acknowledging her words. "You're right, but I figure at their age it doesn't matter much what I'm saying to them as long as I'm talking to them."
Again Carolyn felt a helpless inadequacy sweep over her. He seemed to know so much about what kids needed, what was important. What did she know about it? She had only her own dysfunctional back ground to draw from.
She focused on her food, chewing methodically as she thought. But I have love, she contradicted herself. I can give them so much, not only materially, but emotionally. She couldn't back down. Any day now a court date would be set and custody decided.
She suddenly realized with a jolt that somewhere in the space of the last couple of days the reason for her wanting custody had changed. She'd been telling herself for days that the reason she wanted custody was because they needed her. But it went deeper than that. No longer was it so much that they needed her; rather it was that she needed them.
"You suddenly got terribly quiet," Beau observed, breaking into her reverie.
She shrugged helplessly, unwilling to share her revelation with him. There was no reason to, it changed nothing between the two of them. "Just enjoying the delightful meal," she said, wanting to get back to the relaxed, un complicated mood of moments before.
"If you think this is delightful, you should taste my cornmeal-fried fish."
"If you hadn't let that catfish go, I could have tasted it," she replied.
"One catfish does not a meal make. We'll go back to the pond next Sunday and catch a whole mess of them, then have a real fish fry."
"And this time, when I feel a bite on the line, I won't fall backward and lose the catch," she vowed, then colored as she remembered what had happened between them after she'd fallen down.
His gray eyes lingered on her knowingly. "Maybe we need to talk about what happened this afternoon," he said as if reading her mind.
"There's nothing to talk about." Her face grew warmer and she knew it was probably turning a bright pink. His grin of lazy amusement only caused her cheeks to heat more.
"I believe there is. I think we need to talk about this obvious physical attraction thing you have for me," he answered.
"Me!" She gazed at him in outrage. "I don't have a physical attraction thing for you. Besides, as I recall, you initiated the whole thing, and you weren't exactly pushing me away with revulsion."
"I guess I have to confess I do feel a definite sexual attraction to you," he admitted, his smile widening.
"Despite my prune like lips?" She glared at him. Now she remembered why she wanted custody of Trent and Brent. She didn't want them raised by this insufferable, obnoxious fool.
He laughed, his eyes warming her as they lingered on her mouth. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with your lips. In fact, I rather like them."
"Mary told me you were a difficult man to please when it came to women," Carolyn said, deciding to change the subject.
His laughter filled the room, seeming to brighten the dark corners. "Yes, that sounds like some thing Mary would say," he agreed. "She set me up on date after date, hoping somebody would click with me and end my bachelorhood."
"Mary wanted you to get married?" Carolyn asked.
Beau smiled softly. "Mary wanted everyone to be as bliss fully happy and in love as she was."
"So, why haven't you gotten married?" Carolyn asked, shoving her empty plate away from her.
He stood up and started clearing the dishes. "That click that Mary kept hoping would happen, never has." He put their plates in the sink then turned back around to face her. He leaned back against the cabinets, a bemused expression on his handsome face. "Of course, that would be one way to solve our problem, wouldn't it?"
"What would?" she asked, not quite following him.
"Our getting married."
"That's a ridiculous idea," Carolyn scoffed unevenly. She stood and began to help clear the table, her heart pounding with an emotion that somehow frightened her.
"Of course, it's a ridiculous idea," he agreed, his voice gruff. "Why on earth would I want to marry a woman who can't even cook?"
"And why would I want to marry somebody who's arrogant, impossible and a slob?" Carolyn snatched up the last of the dishes and handed them to Beau.
"Well, at least we agree on this particular subject. We'd be fools to sacrifice our own happiness and futures to solve the problem." He turned to face the sink and twisted the faucets for water to start the dishes.
Carolyn sat down at the table and rubbed her forehead wearily. Naturally, he was right. They would be fools to contemplate marriage to each other to solve the dilemma of the custody of the kids. What she couldn't figure out was why, the moment he had mentioned it, had her heart soared? Why, for just a brief moment, had the thought of marrying Beau made her heart jump with some thing very close to joy?
* * *
Carolyn stood in the kitchen as the early-morning sun streaked the eastern sky. She shifted the phone receiver from one hand to the other and looked at her wristwatch. Almost seven o'clock. That meant it was nearly eight o'clock in New York. Surely Garrison would be in his office. She'd never known her father's partner to get to work later than seven-thirty.
"Garrison," she said at the sound of the deep familiar voice.
"Carolyn, is that you? Where are you, my dear?"
"I'm in a place called Casey's Corners, Kansas," she answered.
There was a pause. "When you told me you were taking off a couple of days, I figured you were taking a little vacation, but why on earth would you be vacationing in Kansas?"
Carolyn laughed. "It's a long story, Garrison." She sobered. "What I really called about was to find out how the investigation is going. Any news?"
"No, my dear, I'm afraid not." The older man's despair was evident in his tone. "Things in the investigation appear to have come to a halt. I still can't believe all this has happened. First Joseph's murder, then Sam's disappearance."
"I know, Garrison. So, there's been no word from Sam?"
"Nothing. I wish he'd just turn himself in so we could unmuddle all this mess."
"I know." She smiled at Beau as he walked into the kitchen. "Garrison, Sam has been here in Casey's Corners, might still be here someplace."
"What?"
Carolyn smiled her appreciation as Beau refilled her coffee cup. "I found his address book here, at a friend's house. We're going to ask some questions this morning and see what we can find out."
"Keep me informed. I'm worried sick about that boy."
"I will," Carolyn promised.
"And Carolyn…hurry home. The bus
iness needs you."
Saying goodbye, Carolyn hung up and joined Beau at the table. "That was Garrison Fielder. He was my father's best friend and partner." She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug. "I thought I'd better call him and see if he'd heard anything from Sam before we spend the morning asking questions."
"And?"
Carolyn shook her head. "Garrison has heard nothing, and the investigation into my father's murder is at a standstill."
"Do you have a picture of Sam?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." She jumped up and grabbed her purse from the counter. Pulling out her wallet, she quickly flipped through the photo section until she came to the one she sought.
She pulled it out of the plastic sleeve and stared at it for a long moment. The picture was of Sam, his wife and his little girl. The photo had been included in the Christmas card Carolyn had received the previous year. She handed it to Beau.
He studied the picture for a long moment. "Nice-looking family," he observed.
Carolyn nodded and expelled a deep sigh. "Unfortunately, I don't think they'll ever be a family again." She leaned back in the chair. "It's funny. Sam is the only one of us who seemed to have it all together when it came to love and family. He and Julianne seemed to be so happy, but the last time I spoke to her she was so hurt and upset. Even if Sam surfaces and is vindicated, I don't know if he'll ever be able to pick up those particular pieces of his life."
She stared into her coffee, miserable as she thought of her brother and the family who loved him, but who might not be able to forgive and forget the past month of turmoil.
She looked up as Beau placed a hand on her arm. His smile was both sympathetic and supportive. "Finish your coffee, then let's go see what we can find out about this brother of yours."
Chapter 9
"You two take a long as you need," Regina exclaimed as she walked Beau and Carolyn to her front door. "The boys and I will get along just fine."
"We really do appreciate it, Regina," Carolyn said, grasping Regina's hand warmly.
"Ah, get out of here." She gave Carolyn's hand a squeeze, then shoved her toward the door.
"So, where do we start?" Carolyn asked, the moment she and Beau were back in his car.
"Did you bring the picture?" he asked, easing the car out of the driveway.
She nodded and pulled her brother's photo out of her purse. "Beau, I can't thank you enough for taking the time to help me with this." Carolyn held the photo to her heart for a moment, hoping, praying that in the next couple of hours she would learn some thing about her brother's whereabouts.
"I thought we'd start on the east side of town and work our way down Main Street," Beau explained, maneuvering the car in that direction. "And you don't have to thank me. I'm a cop, Carolyn. This is what I do."
Carolyn studied his profile, for the first time realizing exactly what Beau did for a living. Funny, up until this moment she'd thought of him only in terms of the man who cared for the twins. She'd given very little thought to his professional life. "Is it dangerous? Being a deputy sheriff in Casey's Corners?"
He turned and gazed at her in open amusement. "Are you looking for reasons of unfitness to take to the judge for the custody hearing?"
"Not at all," she protested, irritated that he could take a genuine concern and twist it. "I have all the reasons I need to prove you're unfit."
His grin widened. "What, that I can't tell fairy tales?"
"That, among other things." She primly folded her hands in her lap and stared at him balefully.
"You can't say anything else. I have no other faults."
"And that, is one of your faults. You're arrogant," Carolyn returned.
He nodded his head. "That's true. I'm glad you noticed. I think a little arrogance is good for the soul."
"You must have a very healthy soul," she retorted, then sighed as he pulled into a parking space in front of the hardware store. "I just asked about the danger of your job because I was concerned."
He shut off the engine and un snapped his seat belt, then twisted to face her. "Be careful, Ms. Baker." He reached out and traced the line of her jaw, his fingers feathers of fire against her skin. "Talk like that might make people think you actually care about me."
"Fat chance." She jerked away from his touch, un-snapped her seat belt and bolted out the door, her movements accompanied by Beau's devilish laughter.
He joined her on the sidewalk, his eyes still filled with mirth. "I can't help it, darlin', I just love to ruffle your feathers."
Carolyn wanted to hang on to her anger, needed it to battle Beau. But it was impossible to be angry, with his infectious grin softening his features. "You are impossible," she finally said as he opened the door to the hardware store.
"It's one of my charms," he replied.
However, the moment he approached the counter where an old man stood at the register, his charm disappeared beneath an aura of professionalism. "Charlie, can I ask you a few questions?"
The old man's quizzical gaze shot to Carolyn, then back to Beau. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
"No. No problem. We're trying to locate a man named Sam Baker. Ever heard of him?"
Charlie frowned, pulling thoughtfully on the grizzled gray hair of one eyebrow. "Sam Baker? There are some Bakers that live out west of town, but I don't think any of them are a Sam."
Beau shook his head. "No, this would have been somebody new in town, somebody who just showed up within the last month." Beau looked at Carolyn, who pulled out the photo of Sam.
Charlie took the picture and studied it carefully. "Nope, never seen him before." He looked back at Beau, his blue eyes widened with a trace of excitement. "What's he done? Is he dangerous?"
"Absolutely not," Carolyn exclaimed, pausing as Beau placed a calming hand on her arm.
"Naw, we just need to ask him some questions. If you see him or know of anyone who has, let me know, Charlie."
"Will do," Charlie agreed.
As Beau and Carolyn left the hardware store, she tried to keep her disappointment under control. "You didn't really expect to hit pay dirt with the first person we spoke to, did you?" Beau asked, letting her know she hadn't hidden her emotions well at all.
She sighed and smiled. "Not really, but it would have been nice, wouldn't it?"
He placed an arm around her shoulders. "Darlin', you have a lot to learn about police work. Why do you think I'm so hardheaded?"
"I thought it was probably inherited. I just assumed you came from a long line of hardheaded men."
He laughed. "Nope, it's from spending so much time banging my head against dead ends."
* * *
After two hours of asking questions and flashing Sam's picture, Carolyn was feeling very hardheaded. Nothing. Nobody seemed to have seen Sam or talked to him, or even heard his name before.
"Dammit, it's like chasing a phantom," Beau said in frustration as they left the florist shop. He paused on the sidewalk and looked at the few businesses left for them to check out. "How about we take a break and get some lunch?" He pointed toward Wanda's Café. "My treat, since you've bought me dinner a couple of nights."
She nodded, deciding to ignore his little gibe. They entered the café and Beau led her to a booth in the back. Once they were settled in, he reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. "Carolyn, you understand that if Sam was hiding out here, it's possible he didn't allow anyone to see him except Mary and Bob."
"I know," she answered, disentangling her hand from his as the waitress approached their table.
"Hi, Wanda," Beau greeted.
"Hey, Beau," the big woman beamed a pleasant smile to Beau, then to Carolyn. "And you must be my new favorite customer. The one who's been getting meals delivered?"
Carolyn smiled sheepishly. "I confess, I don't cook."
"That's all right, honey." Wanda winked in exaggerated camaraderie. "My mama always told me if you can't please them in the kitchen, then you damn straight better pl
ease them in the bedroom."
"You don't hear me complaining," Beau said as Carolyn gasped in outrage. He yelped as Carolyn's foot connected with his ankle beneath the table.
Wanda laughed and pulled an order pad from her pocket. "What can I get for you two?" She looked at Carolyn first.
"I'd like a chicken-salad sandwich and a glass of iced tea," Carolyn said as she envisioned Beau Randolf strangling on a chicken bone.
"And I'll take the burger special," Beau added.
The moment Wanda left the table, Carolyn glared at him. "What are you trying to do? Ruin my reputation?"
"On the contrary. If I wanted to ruin your reputation, I would have said you were bad in the bedroom." He pulled a couple of napkins from the container and offered her one. "Besides, what do you care what folks around here think of you? You won't be around for too much longer."
"That's true," she agreed, ignoring the curious pang that accompanied the thought of leaving Casey's Corners behind. She stared down at the tabletop, noticing that initials had been carved all over the wooden surface. She traced her fingers over T.D. + A.H. = True Love, wondering if T.D. and A.H. still lived here in Casey's Corners.
"It's kind of a tradition," Beau said.
She looked up and he nodded at the carvings. "Everyone who marries in Casey's Corners comes in here and carves their initials in one of Wanda's table-tops." He took her hand and guided her fingers to another carving.
"T.R. Loves S.G.," Carolyn said softly. "Who are they?"
"Thomas Randolf and Sara Greyson. My parents." He smiled. "Some times when I get lonely, I come to this table and just run my hands over the initials. It's my heritage, a link to this town." He pulled his hand away from hers. "Sounds stupid, doesn't it?" he said gruffly.
This time it was Carolyn who reached out and took his hand. "It doesn't sound stupid at all. I envy you that link, that heritage of love." She pulled her hand away as Wanda reappeared with their orders.
"My heritage is a carved tabletop and yours is a multimillion-dollar business," Beau observed when they had been served and Wanda had once again left the table.
"I've never considered Baker Enterprises my heritage," Carolyn disagreed. "For me it was always the vehicle to use to get closer to my father."
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