01 - The Heartbreaker

by Carly Phillips

  I trusted you, Chase. He heard the words she chose not to say and he was torn. “Rick can put out an APB for Samson. It’s in his best interest to be found.”

  “No. That would make things public. Give us time to find him first.”

  “Us?” he asked, liking the sound of the word on her lips.

  “You already said I’m not going to Harrington alone. I’ve come to consider you my partner in all this.”

  “And Rick can help us,” he insisted. “That explosion might well be a warning we should heed.”

  She nodded. “If it turns out the explosion was more than an accident, I’ll go with you to talk to Rick. How’s that for compromise?” She clenched her hands in front of her. “In the meantime, we search for Samson ourselves. Pretty please?” She shot him a blatant, disarming grin.

  She was manipulating him and they both knew it. He couldn’t help but laugh anyway. Besides, for now, his decision was easy. “I promise not to say or print a word. But if the accident classification changes, I’m holding you to your promise and our first stop is the police.”

  In the meantime, he didn’t want the threats from her father’s associates following her here. Hell, maybe they already had—something he wouldn’t know until the fire department finished investigating and officially classified the explosion.

  She grinned and saluted, obviously relieved. But she shouldn’t be too complacent, he thought. He was a journalist who’d never shied away from reporting. After they found Samson and figured out how to handle the threat, her story would make damned good headlines. If he didn’t print the news about the senator’s lies and other reporters got wind of the scandal, they’d expose all. And the result wouldn’t be pretty. At least debuting in his hands, Sloane had a chance of the story being told in a factual, nonbiased way.

  But he had time before worrying. Time to get in deeper with Sloane.

  Chase pulled his truck in front of his mother’s house. The old Colonial he grew up in still looked fresh and new, thanks to a coat of paint and the constant care he and his brothers supplied.

  He turned, placing his hand over her seat. “Are you sure you can handle my mother?” he asked Sloane.

  “I’m certain I can hold my own.” A long curl had escaped her ponytail and she tucked the strand behind her ear. “Raina seems harmless enough.”

  He cocked an eyebrow but didn’t touch that comment. “I already called her this morning and discussed what you’d be talking to her about. She understands the need for secrecy.”

  “You didn’t need to do that.”

  He heard the steely tone in Sloane’s voice, the one that never ceased to remind him she’d indeed been raised by Senator Michael Carlisle, a master at getting what he wanted, and his wife, Madeline, the strong woman alongside the man.

  “I wanted to.”

  “I could have explained things myself,” Sloane said.

  “But you don’t want her spreading this rumor about Samson and inadvertently exposing the very story you’re trying to hide.”

  Not that he was concerned about his mother being informed about Sloane’s relationship to, or search for, Samson. Nobody would go further than Raina to protect someone they cared about. Once he’d explained their reasons for needing Raina’s discretion, Chase trusted her promise to provide it. His mother only participated in town gossip out of boredom and to maintain a sense of community. She’d put Sloane and Samson’s needs first now and remain silent.

  Yet Sloane was still quiet. She still didn’t seem pleased that he’d interfered and he felt compelled to explain. Which surprised him. He’d always made decisions first and explained himself to no one. As the head of the family and the paper, he’d never had to justify a decision.

  But he didn’t want this woman to think he’d steamrolled over her needs and desires. Her feelings were important to him. “I just felt better paving the way,” he said, uncomfortable and gripping the steering wheel harder as he spoke.

  Sloane nodded. “And now that you have, I can handle it,” she said once more.

  Her placating tone set his nerves on edge. He hated sounding like a worried parent, when all he really was, was a concerned lover. Besides, older habits died hard and he couldn’t help wanting to look out for her. “And don’t leave here until I get back,” he added.

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted him again.

  He winced. “Am I really that bad?” he asked.

  She chuckled, her light laugh allowing him to release much of his emotional tension.

  “Let’s just say it’s a good thing for you I like my men assertive.” Her voice dropped, taking on a husky quality he couldn’t misinterpret.

  One hand on the wheel, he leaned closer. “We’ll discuss your penchant for dominant men when we get home later.”

  “Promises, promises.” She reached for the door handle, then turned back to brush a kiss over his lips before getting out of the truck.

  She adjusted the turtleneck sweater she’d worn and walked up his mother’s front lawn, her hips swaying, her mood good despite everything going on around her. He admired her spunk. Chase figured the two women would get along fine. He gripped the steering wheel harder, knowing that thought ought to worry him much more than it did.

  Once Sloane safely entered his mother’s house, Chase pulled back onto the street and turned around, heading out of town. Now that he knew the potential for danger, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t leave Sloane alone. With both women together and not out looking for trouble, he could rest easy. Unless he counted Raina as trouble, he thought wryly. But he was certain Sloane could handle anything his mother tossed her way and would return question for question, giving as good as she got.

  In the meantime, he planned to make good use of his time alone. He couldn’t stop thinking of Cindy’s expression after seeing him with Sloane and he intended to head into Harrington to officially end a relationship that was already long over. Then he planned to do some journalistic digging on Sloane’s grandfather, Senator Jack Ford, and his past with the elusive Samson Humphrey.

  Sloane waited in the family room while Raina made them tea. She walked from bookshelf to bookshelf, examining the photos of Chase and his brothers as young boys, studying their progression to grown men. They’d been adorable children and even more handsome adults. And when Raina had her way, they’d have gorgeous families of their own. In Roman and Charlotte’s case, that day wasn’t far off since Chase had told her Roman’s wife was pregnant, due next month. Having met Rick’s wife, Kendall, Sloane had no doubt the good-looking couple would also have beautiful babies.

  But Chase’s children could be the most incredible of all, and the vision was all too clear in her mind. Blue-eyed, black-haired imps. But reality intruded painfully. He’d already decided against the notion. Too bad, she thought, her stomach fluttering with warmth and an unexpected sorrow.

  Her gaze drifted to the photos and that sadness inside her grew stronger each time she caught sight of Chase. With each passing year, his expression grew ever more serious. He’d borne so much on his broad shoulders, more than any teenager should have to bear. But he’d held up well and his family had benefited from his sense of duty and caring.

  “Like what you see?” Raina asked, walking into the room with two white mugs filled with liquid. “Those photos are like a time-line. I can’t tell you how often I look at them just because they make me smile.” She held out one cup.

  “Thanks.” Sloane accepted her drink, the ceramic mug warm in her hands. “You have every reason to smile.” She glanced at her hostess.

  Sloane had met Raina only once, but she noticed that today her coloring seemed off, her pallor too gray beneath the makeup. Commenting would be rude, but Sloane was worried. “You raised three incredible boys,” Sloane said, refocusing on their conversation.

  “They’re men now.” Raina shook her head as if unable to believe. “Time does fly. Two of them are even married.” She grinned, obviously pleased.

  “I me
t your daughter-in-law Kendall,” Sloane said.

  “Isn’t she wonderful? Her aunt Crystal was one of my closest friends.”

  “Really?”

  Raina nodded. “Crystal passed away recently and Kendall moved back here to take care of her things. Her sister, Hannah, followed, and they’re both living here now. Hannah’s a handful to raise, but Kendall and Rick deal well with her.” Raina’s tone showed her pride. “She’s got fortitude and speaks her mind. Exactly what I want in a granddaughter.”

  “Because she’s just like you.” Sloane laughed.

  “But of course.” Raina crossed the room, walking over to the long couch. “I hope you don’t mind but I’m a little tired, so let’s sit.” She settled herself onto the couch and motioned for Sloane to join her on the chair across from a large cocktail table.

  She placed her glass on a waiting coaster and sat down. “I hope I get to meet Hannah while I’m here.”

  “Just how long are you planning to stay?” Raina asked with no amount of shame.

  “Are you asking to be polite or because you want to know how long you have to matchmake?” Sloane asked, chuckling.

  “Shame on Chase. Has he been telling tales about his mother?”

  “None that aren’t true,” Sloane assured her. “Actually, I’m not sure how long I’ll stay. I’m on a mission of sorts. I suppose it depends on how long it takes me to accomplish it.” She took a sip of the tea while Raina did too.

  “I love a good mystery, but in this case, let’s just be honest with each other. Chase called this morning and as I’m sure you realize, I know your secret.”

  Sloane nodded. “And it really does make things easier on me, not having to explain.” Though she’d given Chase a hard time for taking control, she appreciated him smoothing things over.

  She’d had her reasons for being overly forceful with him. She couldn’t let him push her around, even if she found his often domineering tendencies sexy and endearing, if only because they showed he cared.

  But how much?

  Oh, he cared enough to sleep with her, and Sloane definitely wasn’t making him beg for sex. But to her, sleeping with Chase definitely fell into the making love category. She couldn’t bear to think he’d just transferred his dependability to her and would move on easily once she found Samson. Although that was the inevitable outcome, she still wanted to know he cared and would miss her once she was gone.

  “Sloane? Sloane?” Raina had come up beside her, knelt down, and snapped her fingers in front of her face.

  “I’m sorry. I was just lost in thought,” she explained.

  “That’s okay. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind.” She rose quickly and gripped the arm of the chair hard enough that her knuckles turned white. “Raina?” Sloane put her hand over hers.

  “I’m fine.” She straightened and walked slowly back to her seat on the couch. “It’s just this heart condition I’ve been diagnosed with.” She didn’t meet Sloane’s gaze, her eyes darting to the photos she’d seen earlier.

  “Chase didn’t mention anything.” Sloane was concerned as well as confused.

  “That’s because he tries to act as if things are normal.” Raina waved a hand in the air. “And they are. But your life has been turned upside down. Would you be surprised if I said I’d figured out your relationship to Jacqueline soon after our first meeting?”

  “Very surprised!”

  “I had no idea she’d been in a relationship with Samson, but as soon as I took a look at you, I knew you were related to her. You two look so much alike,” Raina murmured.

  Sloane leaned forward, overwhelmed by the excitement of meeting someone who knew her mother from way back. “How well did you know Jacqueline?”

  “We used to spend summers together.” Raina rubbed her hands together, warming to the subject.

  “Then you knew her when she was younger?” The older woman nodded.

  Sloane’s heartbeat picked up. “Tell me about her? The only stories I know are from my—from Michael and Madeline and they knew her after she’d turned eighteen.” She drew a steadying breath. “I just want to know what she was like. What we had in common.”

  Raina’s gaze softened. Though Chase didn’t share her hazel eyes, the shape and expression were similar, something more noticeable now, when Raina’s were filled with warmth. “Your mom loved the summer. She loved fresh air and being free from school and the constraints around her. That’s why she and I would spend time in a tree house behind her house.”

  “A tree house?” Sloane asked, surprised. “From all I heard about my grandfather, I can’t imagine him building a tree house.” She crinkled her nose at the thought.

  “Smart girl.” Raina smiled. “The tree house came with the property, and when your mother was late for dinner, your grandfather would threaten to cut the thing down.”

  The thought made Sloane sad. “Now, that makes more sense.”

  “The tree house wasn’t big, but it was private and no one would bother us there. We could talk about boys, and about girl things. Jacqueline was a very sweet person, but she lived with parents who stifled her sense of self.”

  “I know what that’s like,” Sloane said, shocked she and her mother had something so fundamental in common. Having grown up with people who also expected certain etiquette and behavior, Sloane felt a sudden kinship with the mother she’d never really known. And suddenly she didn’t feel so lonely or unusual, the outcast in a political family. She was her mother’s daughter. And that knowledge filled her with an unexpected sense of belonging in this small town.

  “So you can understand why the tree house was so important to her. It was a place she could go to get away.” Raina shook her head, her eyes wide.

  “Is it still there?”

  Raina shrugged. “It sure is. Do you want the address so you can see for yourself?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen, Raina scribbled the house number and street and slid the paper across the table. “Don’t go alone or you’ll likely stir up questions you don’t want to answer,” Raina warned her.

  She laughed at the older woman’s protective tone, then slipped the address into her pocket. “Now you sound like Chase.”

  Raina leaned forward. “And is that a good thing?” she asked, obviously back in matchmaking mode.

  “Tsk, tsk, Raina,” Sloane chided. “You’re too obvious.”

  “Oh pooh. And you’re no fun.”

  “Chase tells me you know my father?” Sloane latched on to the next subject of importance. So far, she’d learned much more than she’d hoped from Raina Chandler.

  “You mean Samson.”

  Sloane nodded. “He’s just a name to me.” She rose and began pacing the room. As she always did when discussing her unknown parent, she became restless and uncomfortable. “But since I came to town, I’ve got the distinct impression he’s not going to be what I expected.”

  “Or hoped for?” Raina asked perceptively.

  Sloane figured Chase got his intuition from his mother, who had nailed her feelings. “I never had the chance to form any sort of expectation,” she admitted. “I found out that Michael Carlisle wasn’t my father and came here almost right after. Next thing I knew, people in town are dropping odd comments about how no one’s ever called Samson a gentleman, or how he mooches sandwiches from Norman’s. Chase used the word eccentric?” She shook her head, confused and hoping Raina had more answers.

  “Samson’s odd,” Raina allowed, as diplomatic as her son had been. “Surly would also describe him. But he’s harmless and mostly misunderstood.”

  Sloane turned to face Raina. “How so?”

  “People react to a person, but they tend to forget who they are or more accurately what they were.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Raina stretched out on the couch, looking more weary than she had earlier. Sloane made a mental note to discuss his mother’s health with Chase as soon as possib
le.

  Pulling an afghan blanket over herself, Raina began to explain. “Samson’s mother was a quiet woman. She worked as a cashier at the general store, bringing in barely enough to make ends meet. But his father was a gambler.”

  “Gambling?”

  “It was very bad.” Raina ran her hand over the back of the sofa, deep in thought. “He was always in debt and had even spent some time in jail for stealing money to pay back a debt. Luckily, the Coopers, who own the general store, took care of their food needs because his father too often would gamble away what little his mother earned. Awful, really.”

  Sloane agreed.

  “Circumstances made Samson a loner,” Raina continued. “But who can blame him? I mean, wouldn’t any teenager withdraw if they were embarrassed to bring anyone home?”

  A lump formed in Sloane’s throat and she was unable to answer.

  “But he was nice and kind and handsome in his day.” Raina smiled, remembering. “And he turned his attention to studies. His goal was to get a college education and do better than his parents had.”

  Hope and admiration replaced Sloane’s earlier despair and she hung on Raina’s every word. “We can assume that at some point he had a relationship with my mother.”

  Raina sighed. “I suppose so. And I wish that Jacqueline had told me.” She shook her head, her frustration obvious. “Now that the pieces are coming together, I remember her mentioning being in love that last summer she spent in Yorkshire Falls. She didn’t want to use his name. She said she was afraid of jinxing the relationship, but I knew she meant she was afraid her father would find out. Jack Ford was a tough old bird.”

  Sloane recalled the details of how her grandfather had bribed Samson to stay away from her mother and Sloane knew Raina’s description was way too kind. She had a hunch that Samson’s father’s gambling had something to do with the bribery and money that had exchanged hands. “Did Samson ever go to college?”

  Raina shook her head. “He changed. Actually, it was around the time Jacqueline’s family moved away. He started spending all his time at home instead of at the library. Eventually his mother passed away and his father took off one day, never to be seen again. Rumor had it he went to Las Vegas, though I always assumed that was the easy answer to where a gambler would go.”