Almost Home

by Barbara Freethy

  "Probably not. Especially since I'm not there, right?"

  She walked down the steps in front of the hotel and paused to lean over and inhale the scent of a blossoming pink rose dangling over the walkway. "Mm-mm, lovely," she said. "Smell it. It's gorgeous, a princess rose, I think."

  He leaned over obediently, but he was so close to Katherine, he couldn't smell anything but the gardenia scent of her shampoo, the vanilla fragrance of her skin, the minty coolness of her breath. She was one tantalizing woman.

  "There's nothing better than one perfect rose." Katherine stood up straight. "Don't you agree?"

  "I can think of a few things that would be better." Like Katherine naked in a bed of rose petals. He cleared his throat.

  "You don't like flowers?" she asked, sending him a quizzical look.

  "Not as much as you, apparently."

  She sent him a dazzling smile. "I always wanted to be a florist. I'd love to have my own little shop somewhere, spend my days designing bouquets to celebrate the special occasions in people's lives. That would be the best job." Her smile faded and a bleak look came into her eyes.

  "Why aren't you a florist then?" he asked.

  She hesitated. "It's complicated. I felt a responsibility to my stepfather, to work in his investment banking company."

  Zach raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like an investment banker."

  "I'm not very good at it either," she confided. "I've been learning the business from the ground up, but to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I'll ever be good at it.”

  "Why don't you quit then?"

  "It makes Mitchell happy to have me there." Actually, she wasn't sure Mitchell really cared one way or the other, but she'd always felt that working together somehow kept them together.

  "And what is Mitchell doing while you're here in Kentucky?"

  "He's resting up from a cruise to Mexico."

  "Tough life. Still, maybe you should go home and keep the business running until he's ready to come back to work."

  She shook her finger at him. "Nice try, but I already put it on the list, so you're not telling me anything I don't know."

  "The list?"

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a small spiral notebook. "I've been writing them down." She flipped open the notebook and leafed through a dozen pages, before settling on one filled with script. "So far, I have ten reasons to leave and only one reason to stay."

  "Let me see that." Zach took the notebook out of her hand and skimmed the pros and cons. She'd done a good job at detailing all the reasons why her search was hopeless, yet she was still here. Before handing the notebook back to her, he turned the page back, then another and another, his smile growing with each new list.

  Katherine tried to grab the notebook out of his hand, but he held it away from her. "Look at this, ten reasons to go out with Marc Stafford and five reasons not to go out with him. Ooh, bad hair. That's pretty critical."

  "Zach, give it back."

  "Oh, and here's ten reasons to get a cat and ten reasons not to get a cat. I really think you should go with a dog."

  She crossed her arms in front of her and scowled at him. "I got the cat. Are you finished?"

  "You have a list for everything."

  "So what? It helps me organize my thoughts.”

  "Don't you ever just do what you feel like doing without thinking about it?"

  "That's how I ended up here," she said with a sigh. "I didn't start making the list until last night."

  "If you had, you wouldn't have come."

  "Probably not." She looked at him with a wry smile. "Too bad for you, huh?"

  "Why are you still here when you have so many reasons to leave?"

  "I'm trying to learn how to take a risk, how to color outside the lines."

  Zach laughed. He couldn't help it. She was so genuine, so honest. He'd never met anyone like her.

  "You must get hurt a lot," he murmured.

  She looked at him in surprise. "Why do you say that?"

  "Because you don't hide anything. You put yourself out there for the world to like or dislike."

  Her face paled and her eyes glittered with emotion, but he wasn't sure if it was anger or that very hurt he'd just mentioned. "You don't like me?"

  "I didn't say that." He caught his breath as a slight breeze lifted her hair and brought a strand across her eyes. They both reached for it at the same time, their hands colliding.

  He could feel the softness of her cheek and a tingle in his fingers when her hand touched his. Sparks. He'd heard of it happening, but he'd never felt it before -- until now. He let his hand fall back to his side, and Katherine hastily tucked the hair behind her ear. She looked as stunned as he felt, as if they'd both touched a hot stove and hadn't expected to get burned.

  He glanced away, letting his gaze drift along Main Street. Everyone was going about their business, enjoying the nice spring weather, the green canopy of trees along the sidewalks providing welcome shade and coolness. The birds were singing. The flowers were blooming. And not one person looked like the world had just turned upside down, but it had. He'd felt it right down to the tips of his toes.

  "I better go," Katherine said, heading toward the sidewalk.

  He followed her, thinking he would leave, get in his truck and go home. Then she turned and smiled at him once more, and he felt like he'd been sucker-punched.

  "Thanks for checking up on me," she said. "That was nice of you."

  "I told you I'm not nice. Ask anyone."

  "I prefer to make my own judgments, and I base them on the man, not the father."

  "I could give you ten reasons not to believe I'm a good guy.”

  Her gaze roamed across his face, searching for something, he didn't know what.

  "You're hard on yourself."

  "Maybe I should be."

  "Why don't you come to Golden's with me," she suggested.

  He hesitated. "I should get back to the farm."

  "You have time."

  "I really don't," he said, but he still made no move to leave.

  "Walk with me, Zach. Tell me about your horse. Maggie said everyone around here is worried that your colt will sneak by the other horses and win the Derby. Is that true?"

  "That they're worried or that Rogue will win?”

  "Either one."

  Against his better judgment, Zach couldn't help falling into step with her. "I think he can win, but we'll have to wait and see."

  "The last time I went to the horse races was at Santa Anita. I sat in the Turf Club and lost every race."

  "The Turf Club?" He stopped, put his hands on his hips, and shook his head in mock despair. "How can you pick the right horse when you're sitting three floors up at a fancy table, eating off china and drinking some high-priced wine?"

  "Where should I be?"

  "Down by the track, out in the paddock, watching the jockeys mount up. Better yet, try an early morning workout when the steam coming off the Styrofoam coffee cups will curl your hair. That's when the horses show their real stuff."

  "Are you a gambler, Zach?"

  "I'm in the racehorse business, Kat. What else could I possibly be?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I think there are gamblers and there are gamblers."

  "The distinction being?"

  "Those who can stop when their wallet is empty and those who would sell their souls for a two-dollar chance."

  "'I'm the latter."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Believe it. I've invested my soul in my horse. With him goes everything I have."

  "That's an awful lot of weight to put on your horse's back."

  "He can handle it."

  "What's his name?"

  "Midnight Rogue."

  "Rogue? Like his owner?"

  He wasn't about to touch that one. "Midnight for his black coat and rogue because no one knows what he's going to do, including me. Not to mention the fact that he has an eye for the fillies."

  "Like his o
wner?" she repeated with an enticing twinkle in her eye.

  He couldn't help grinning back at her. "Are you flirting with me, Miss Whitfield?"

  "No way! A man like you, who everyone hates, who would sell his soul at a horse race? I'd have to be crazy to flirt with you."

  "I think you are," he muttered, looking deep into her eyes. "And maybe so am I."

  He heard her catch her breath, a tiny sound that made him want to make her do it again. Maybe if he touched her... if he kissed her...

  Katherine cleared her throat, breaking the spell between them. "We're not getting very far, are we?" She started walking again. "I've never been in such a small town before. In L.A. people live in their cars. It's fast, crowded, impersonal."

  "You live in L.A.?"

  "Beverly Hills."

  "The land of the rich and famous, big houses, wide streets, and long cars."

  "Yes, but you can get lost in those big houses, wide streets, and long cars," she replied, a sad note in her voice.

  "Did you?"

  She paused at the corner and glanced at him. "If no one ever looks for you, are you lost?”

  "I don't know. Is that like if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound?"

  She laughed, and he was pleased to see the light come back in her eyes. For a moment there, she'd looked incredibly lonely. And he couldn't imagine why. She had beauty, personality, and guts. Who wouldn't look for her? Hell, who would let her out of their sight in the first place?

  Katherine checked for traffic, then carried on, her short skirt swirling around her legs, making him catch his breath once more. He knew about legs, long, sleek legs that could run like the wind. But her legs -- they put all others to shame.

  "What happened to your mother?" he asked abruptly, trying to get his attention off of her legs.

  When she reached the opposite corner, Katherine stopped. "My mother died in a car accident when I was twelve."

  "Sorry."

  "It was a long time ago. My stepfather got stuck with me. He'd been married to my mom for only a short while before she died. He was nice enough to keep me anyway."

  He told himself to start walking, to stop talking. There was no point in learning any more about her, but for some reason he couldn't let it go. "He doesn't mind that you're looking for your biological father?"

  "No, he doesn't mind. Maybe he's hoping I'll find my real father and get out of his life."

  "I doubt anyone could let go of you that easily.”

  "Thanks," she said, meeting his eyes with a grateful smile. "That's nice of you to say, even if it's not true."

  He heard the pain in her voice and felt a sense of kinship with a woman he'd never expected to have anything in common with. They came from completely different backgrounds, but he knew what it was like to feel unwanted.

  Katherine took off down the street, putting an end to any further conversation. She didn't stop until she reached the door to Golden's. She looked surprised to see Zach still behind her. "Are you coming in? I thought you were a busy man with all kinds of work to do."

  "I'm thirsty," he muttered. "As long as I'm this close, I might as well get a beer."

  "And here I thought you might want to help me.”

  "I can get into enough trouble on my own."

  "Do you want to go first?" she asked hopefully. "Just in case there are any drinks flying."

  "No way."

  "That's not very gallant."

  "I told you--”

  "I know. You're not gallant. You're not a white knight. Jeez, I got it already. I might be on a wild-goose chase, but I'm not playing Cinderella. I gave up on finding a prince a long time ago."

  "That's not true. You're hoping your father will turn out to be the most incredible man in the world -- a prince among men. You're headed for a big fall, sweetheart."

  She looked into his eyes. "Are you going to stick around to catch me?"

  Chapter Six

  Zach didn't answer her question. What did she want him to say? That he'd taken one look at her and fallen head over heels? That was a crazy thought. Zach Tyler wasn't a man to fall any which way. And she didn't need to be distracted from her goal by a sexy cowboy.

  "Never mind," she said quickly, then opened the door to Golden's and stepped inside. The bar was dimly lit which was fine with her. It was also a lot quieter than it had been the night before. Even the jukebox was playing a hushed tune. Katherine could understand why the cozy darkness of Golden's would have appealed to two young lovers. She wondered if her mother and father had met secretly, if their families had known of their trysts.

  "Do you want a drink?" Zach asked as she paused by a table.

  "Mineral water."

  He rolled his eyes. "City drink for a city girl."

  "You asked." She sat down while Zach went to the bar.

  Looking around the room, Katherine noted the details she'd missed the night before. One wall was covered with banners and signs from every horse farm in the area. The tables were made of thick, round oak, the chairs just as sturdy. The floor was hardwood, covered in spots with empty peanut shells and pieces of straw.

  It was a working man's bar. One without pretense, just good liquor, comfortable chairs, and a big-screen television, which even now was showing a horse race from some track somewhere in the world.

  Her gaze drifted away from the big screen to the far wall, which was covered in photographs. Getting to her feet, she went over to explore. The first picture of a young girl astride a horse caught her by surprise. It tugged at a distant memory, and for a moment all she could do was stand and stare at it. Was the girl familiar? Was the horse familiar? She didn't recognize either one, but it reminded her of something...

  She caught her breath as the memory came to mind. She'd found a book in one of her mother's drawers. In leafing through the pages, a photograph had fallen out. She could see the picture clearly, a young girl sitting astride a large chestnut-colored horse. Her mother had come into the room then and snatched the photograph out of her hand, dismissing its importance with a laugh. At the time, Katherine hadn't thought to ask any more about it. But the girl on the horse had definitely been her mother.

  She looked back at the photograph in front of her. This girl was not her mother. She looked far happier to be sitting on a horse than her mother had ever looked. Katherine moved on to the next photo of a group of people standing next to a horse in a winner's circle. The photo was signed to Justin with best regards, the Marroni's -- whoever they were.

  "I've got your fancy water, Kat," Zach said. "And Justin wants to talk to you."

  She returned to the table, taking a better look at the man standing next to Zach. Dressed in black pants and a white shirt, he wasn't handsome, but he was appealing, with a broad, welcoming smile.

  "This is Justin Blakemore," Zach said. "He owns this bar and serves up drinks most days."

  "And hands out dry towels, as I recall. I'm Katherine Whitfield."

  Justin stuck out his hand and Katherine took it, pleased by his warm, friendly grip.

  "Glad to see you dried off," Justin said with a concerned expression. "Believe it or not, we don't usually have glasses flying around in here."

  "Just my bad luck, I guess."

  "Drinks are on the house today, and anything else you want," Justin said. "I'd hate to leave you with a bad impression of Golden's."

  "Thanks. I appreciate that. Oh, wait." Katherine stopped him before she could even think about what she was going to say. She glanced over at Zach. His warning look only encouraged her to go forward. She had to start somewhere, and at least Justin was approachable. "I wonder if you could answer a few questions for me."

  Justin's eyes narrowed and he didn't look quite as affable as he had before. "Reporter?"

  "No. No." She shook her head. "I'm looking for someone who may have lived here a long time ago, who may have spent some time in this bar."

  "Well, my grandfather started the bar almost fifty years ago. My father ran it
for a long time, and I took it over from him about twenty years ago, so I know most of the people who come in here."

  "Does the name Evelyn Jones ring a bell?”

  Justin thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, can't say that it does."

  "She had brown hair and blue eyes, great smile, really inviting laugh. She was vibrant, the kind of woman who could make friends without trying. She'd be forty-eight now. And the last time she was in here was probably about twenty-seven years ago."

  "That's a long time. Evelyn, you said, right?"

  "Yes."

  He shook his head. "I wish I could help you. Mind if I ask why you're asking?"

  "I found some napkins and matchbooks with the name Golden's on them in an old chest of my mother's. I think she and her boyfriend may have met here when they were dating, and I'm hoping to learn more about her life back then."

  He nodded. "I take it she's not around to ask."

  "No, she's not.”

  "Well, good luck. Let me know if there's anything else I can get you," Justin said as he walked away.

  She sat down, frowning at the knowing look in Zach's eyes. "So he doesn't remember her, so what? It's just going to take a while.”

  "Like maybe the rest of your life. You have nothing to go on, Kat."

  "My name is Katherine."

  He ignored her complaint and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Did you happen to catch the bartender's name?"

  "Justin Blakemore. So?"

  "Justin. J."

  "Oh." She sat back in her chair and looked over at the bar. "He's about the right age."

  "And even though he's only been running the bar the last twenty years he was bartending for his dad long before that."

  "You mean, maybe my mother came here because she wanted to be with him even if he was working?”

  "I don't mean anything," Zach said with a shrug. "I'm just pointing out the fact that you have one more candidate to add to your list next to J.T."

  "Is Justin married?"

  "Yep. And he's got kids your age, I'd say."

  "My age, huh? That means he was probably married when my mother came through here."

  "More than likely."