She headed up the stairs. Susannah watched her go helplessly.
“Nikki…”
The girl reached the first landing, then turned furiously, her face set and white. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. You tell me I shouldn’t hang out with Eli. Well, at least we really love each other.”
“Love?” Susannah rose instinctively to her feet. “Love?”
“That’s right. And you can say whatever you want about how young I am, or how stupid I am. At least I know how to love somebody. So I guess I’m not as stupid as you are.”
CHAPTER FIVE
CHASE HAD MADE IT crystal clear. Under no circumstances was Josie to get up before Dr. Marchant came in the morning, checked her out and gave her the green light.
But by nine, she was too restless to stay put a minute longer, even in this comfortable guest suite, a bedroom and bath that together were nearly as big as her whole apartment.
She’d been awake for hours, since the first bout of morning sickness swept through her around dawn. During the night, someone had placed a tray of soda crackers and a pitcher of ice water beside her bed, and by six she felt strong enough to nibble the edge of one of the little saltine squares.
After that, the house had been too full of noise, doors banging and people calling to one another, trucks pulling up in the drive, horses whinnying and phones ringing. The ranch was coming awake for the day.
A few minutes later, the sun woke up, too, and her pretty room filled with clear lime-colored light that danced on mirrors and curlicue silver picture frames, and even on her water glass.
But she remembered her promise and tried to sit still, waiting for the doctor. She pulled one of the chairs up to the window and sat for an hour, just drinking in the beauty of the ranchland. It seemed to stretch out to forever. The hills rolled softly into the distance, going from green to gray to foggy blue.
She’d been right about where the little hand-carved headstone should be. From her window, she could just see it, beneath the sparkleberry tree, which was shedding its starry white flowers all over the collie’s grave.
Funny, that one spot of the Clayton Creek Ranch had been as vividly real to her as her own kitchen. Her lover—she no longer found it comfortable to call him Chase—had described it so perfectly, down to the way the headstone had been set crooked in the grass.
She tried to picture him standing there, staring down at the sweet, silly inscription and thinking, Yes, I can use this someday. Some brainless bimbo will fall for this like a pile of rocks.
After that, she’d paced the room for a while, testing out her legs. In spite of a roaring headache and her purpling bruises, she felt stronger today.
Probably because she’d had a good night’s sleep. And, for once, her stomach hadn’t been required to wake right up and handle the smell of greasy sausage and fat-marbled bacon.
But even the luxury of laziness grew uncomfortable after a while. She was used to being busy. She checked her watch. Nine-thirty. Despite Chase’s command, she needed to get going.
She started with her shot—thank goodness she’d had enough presence of mind, after the shock of discovering she was pregnant, to pack a small bag of essentials, including her insulin.
She wouldn’t have wanted to do without a change of clothes, either. Yesterday’s outfit was ruined. The skirt was torn, and the scoop neckline was newly decorated with a circlet of teardrop-shaped bloodstains.
The guest bathroom was well stocked, so she brushed her teeth and washed her face. She stared at the raccoon-eyed stranger in the mirror, and tried to fluff her hair into some semblance of self-respect. It was hopeless, so she gave up.
When she left her room, she entered a long, wide hallway that smelled like a spring garden. Simple arrangements of hand-picked blooms—from phlox to daffodils—were everywhere, on tables, beside windows, even spilling out of an architectural niche in the wall.
Someone at the Clayton Creek Ranch was passionate about flowers—and she quickly discovered who it was. As she turned the corner toward the staircase, she spotted a short, round woman bending over a vase, clearly searching for the perfect placement of a sprig of bright pink dogwood.
The woman looked up as she heard Josie’s footsteps. She was probably about fifty, but she had a baby face, cheeks as pink as the flower and the most cheerful smile Josie had ever seen.
“You must be Miss Whitford! How are you feeling, honey? I’m Imogene. Officially I’m the housekeeper, but in reality I do everything around here. Absolutely everything. You looking for Chase? He’s still out on the terrace, ignoring that fine breakfast I cooked him. There’s plenty, if you’re hungry.”
Josie smiled, not sure where to grab the conversation first. “I’m feeling much better, thanks,” she said carefully, unsure how much Chase would have told his housekeeper.
“And I am a bit hungry.” Josie peered over the banister to the sprawling layout below. “But I’m not sure how to get to the terrace.”
Imogene tucked the sprig of dogwood into the vase, gave the arrangement one last fluff, then held out her hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
She led Josie to a big bay window at the end of the hall. “He’s right down there, see? Three cups of coffee, but not one forkful of hash browns. Not even a melon cube. The boy could drive a saint insane.”
Josie squinted against the bright morning light. At first she just saw the only trees, green grass and white paddock fences. But then she saw Chase.
“Oh, yes. But how do I get out there?”
Imogene patted her arm. “Easy as pie. The house is just one big C-shaped box. Take the main staircase down, U-turn at the bottom and follow the sunlight. Or the intoxicating smell of my world-famous hash browns.”
It really was that easy. Josie didn’t stop to look into any of the spacious, flower-filled rooms she passed. She didn’t want to risk missing her chance to talk to Chase alone.
He had his back to the doorway, so he didn’t see her coming. He seemed engrossed in the newspaper, which was folded in half and resting against his leg, which he’d propped against the wrought-iron trestle table. The table practically buckled with food—hard-boiled eggs, bagels, toast, ham, pastries, fresh melons and berries, and enough coffee and tea and juices to float the whole terrace away down the hill.
But he didn’t seem to be eating any of it. His left hand rested absently against a coffee cup that she knew had gone cold long ago.
She stole a minute to look at him, to gather her courage. And to see if, in yesterday’s emotional state, she had been imagining his extraordinary good looks.
She hadn’t.
His golden hair tumbled freely across his broad forehead, and his chin was dusted with a stubble about two shades darker. He wore faded jeans and soft leather boots, but they were topped by an expensive blue dress shirt that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. An elegant navy blazer with gold buttons lay across the back of another chair.
He wasn’t glossed up for a party today, but the real, everyday Chase Clayton was even more attractive.
Half big business, half cowboy. All man.
“Mr. Clayton?”
“Do you think you could bring yourself to call me Chase?”
She frowned. “I think that, given our situation…given how you feel about my showing up here—’
“No.” He put out a hand. “Look, I need to apologize. I was a jerk yesterday. I was just shocked, that’s all. But I shouldn’t have been so rough. Please call me Chase? This Mr. Clayton stuff is so formal, given…” He grimaced. “Well, given that you seem to know every dumb thing I ever did in my checkered past.”
She nodded. “Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Chase.”
It felt awkward, though, and her voice cracked.
“Darn it. Don’t say it like that. Say it like you mean it.” He took a sip of coffee and grimaced, discovering no doubt that it was stone-cold. “It is my name, you know. I’ll be damned if I’m going to feel like I stole it from him.”
> “Of course not,” she said. “Chase.”
“That’s better. Now, grab some breakfast and tell me what you’re doing out of bed. I thought you were going to wait for Marchant.”
“I was. But I’m not used to sleeping this late. And if I’m going to make arrangements to get back to Riverfork today…”
His blue eyes widened. “You’re planning to go back today?”
“If I can, I think I should. You’ve been very nice, Mr.—I mean, Chase. But I can’t take advantage of your hospitality forever.”
“One day is hardly forever. And what about your car? I haven’t heard from the garage, but I have a feeling your insurance company is going to total it out. You probably don’t remember how it looked, having been unconscious at the time, but I do.” He smiled. “It was a wreck.”
She didn’t doubt it. The details were hazy, like images from a nightmare, but she half remembered the smell of gas, and the surreal hissing of steam.
“I’m sure you’re right,” she agreed. “They’ll never pay to repair it. The car might have been worth five hundred dollars, but only if I’d just filled the gas tank.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he’d thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. A line appeared between his eyebrows.
“Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I’m not hinting that I need a ride all the way back to Riverfork. Though I would appreciate it if you could spare a car to take me to the bus station.”
His frown deepened. “The bus station?”
“Yes.” He probably wouldn’t be caught dead boarding a bus, but she was very glad that she could actually afford to do so. When she first woke up, she’d used the phone in the guest room to call her bank’s 800 number and confirm her checking account balance. Then she’d called Greyhound’s toll-free line and inquired about the price of a one way ticket to Riverfork.
The first number was, thank God, slightly larger than the second. She could at least get home on her own steam, and salvage that much of her pride.
After that…
Well, after that things were likely to get a little sticky. With no job and no money, and a fatherless baby on the way…
“Look, Josie.” Chase put one foot up on the edge of his chair and leaned his elbow on his knee. “Please get something to eat and sit down. We need to talk.”
“About—” She caught herself before she said “Chase.” “About the man who used your name?”
“Yes.” He grabbed a plate and began piling juicy squares of cantaloupe onto it. “Look, you need to eat. Marchant told me a little about diabetes, and if you’ve had your insulin, you really need—”
He broke off, frowning. “You have had your insulin, right?”
She smiled at the protective tone, though she knew he was probably only worried she might pass out, bust her head on these pretty Mexican tiles, then file a lawsuit. “Yes. I’ve had it.”
“Good. So first, you eat. Then, we’ll talk about—” He handed her the plate and a fork. “You know, we really need to think of something to call this jerk. I’ve got some colorful ideas, but I don’t think Miss Manners would approve of any of them.”
She took the chair he held out and, settling the plate on the table, speared one of the pieces of cantaloupe. She did need food, and besides, it looked too good to resist. And Imogene had been right about the hash browns. After two years at the Not Guilty Café, Josie had forgotten that hash browns could smell like fresh onions and crisp peppers instead of day-old backfat.
“How about Fake Chase?” She raised her brows. “That’s what I’ve been using in my head.”
“No. No Chase anything. I want a clear distinction between him and me.” He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, then sat back down beside her. “Okay, let’s see. How about Mr. Flim Flam?”
She smiled wryly. “That fits, I guess.”
“Okay, then.” He slapped the table, then leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Flim Flam it is. Flim for short.”
While she applied herself to the fruit, he got another plate and filled it with a couple of eggs, some hash browns and a bagel.
“I can’t eat all that,” she said, alarmed.
“Try. I’ll share it with you. That’ll make Imogene deliriously happy.”
They ate in silence a few minutes. At some point, she sensed that he was just watching her, so she looked up.
“What?”
Out here, in the morning sunlight, his eyes looked bluer than the sky over his head, and just as clear and steady.
“I’m going to have to find him, Josie. You know that, right?”
Someone was training a horse in the nearest paddock, and she could hear the low nickering, alternating with the trainer’s gentle voice. She shut her eyes for a minute, enjoying the peaceful sound.
“Yes,” she said. She opened her eyes again and met his gaze calmly. “I don’t blame you. He can’t be allowed to go on using your identity for…for his own purposes.”
“No. He can’t.”
“What will you do when you find him? Will he go to jail?”
“Would that bother you?”
She thought a minute. “I don’t know. Part of me would like to watch while you string him up by the thumbs.” She chewed the final nugget of cantaloupe. “But another part of me…”
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “Please don’t tell me you still harbor the secret dream of becoming Mrs. Flim Flam.”
“Of course not. Even when we first started out, I always knew he wasn’t going to stay forever. That wasn’t why I came here, you know. I wasn’t going to try to force you…him…anyone…to marry me.”
“Why did you come, then?” He toyed with his coffee, though he hadn’t taken his gaze from her. “What made you drive here like a bat out of hell, not even stopping long enough to eat?”
She’d known he’d ask, sooner or later. Again, she could only be honest, no matter how idiotic it sounded.
“I got sick at work yesterday morning, and so I went to the clinic. I thought I had the flu. I assumed the doctor would give me some pills, and my biggest fear was trying to find the money to fill the prescription. But when he told me that I was pregnant…”
She moved the hash browns around on her plate, her appetite vanishing. It was difficult, even thinking back to yesterday, when the words “you’re going to have a baby” had come at her like a wrecking ball, knocking her into a million little pieces.
Luckily, she seemed strong enough today that she didn’t choke up every time she tried to explain herself about anything.
“The truth is, I think I just panicked. It was overwhelming. I was terrified. I don’t make much money as a waitress—and I’ve been using every extra penny for my tuition at the community college. But a baby…I knew I couldn’t manage without help. All I knew was that Chase—”
“Not Chase.” He touched her hand, a gentle reminder. “Flim.”
“Right.” She tried to smile. “Anyhow, all I could think was that Flim had an obligation to this baby. That he couldn’t just run away and leave me to deal with it alone.”
He hadn’t moved his hand, and now he exerted a small pressure. It didn’t feel like pity, which she would have hated. It felt like understanding, one human being to another. The warmth was bracing, and Josie realized her fingers were cold, even though the spring morning was mild and sunny.
“That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say,” he said. “You’re right, Josie. He can’t just run away. We need to find this guy. Both of us. We may have different reasons, but they amount to the same thing. We both want him to pay for what he’s done. I think we should work together.”
“Together?”
“Yes. You can stay here a few days, take a little more time to recuperate. We’ll see how quickly we can make the insurance company settle up, and that will give us plenty of opportunity to talk it over, narrow down the possibilities. Your boss will okay the sick leave, I’m sure. If he balks, we’ll e-mail him a p
icture of your black eye.”
“I don’t have a job,” she said. “Not since I introduced my manager to the joys of morning sickness. Or rather…my manager’s tacky snakeskin boots.”
He groaned. “One more sin Flim has to do penance for. We’ll make him buy your manager some new boots. The tackiest ones in Texas.”
She smiled. “I guess this means I passed your LexisNexis test,” she said. “You didn’t find a criminal record?”
“Well, there was that speeding ticket two years ago, but I already knew you were a wild woman behind the wheel.”
“I was late for work that day,” she protested with a laugh. Then she sobered. “More to the point, I guess this means you’ve decided that Flim actually does exist? That I’m not just here running some complicated con?”
He nodded slowly. “I guess it does. So what do you say? Will you stay a few days? Shall we pool our resources and find this guy?”
Pool their resources? Hadn’t she just made it clear she had none? Wasn’t this just charity in disguise? And yet, the idea of staying here a few days, until she felt stronger, until she could decide what to do, was so tempting it scared her.
She could probably pull it off. She could buy a couple of cheap T-shirts to sleep in and a toothbrush. Her only class this term was an online English lit, and he undoubtedly had a computer she could use.
And, of course, she didn’t have a job. But rent wasn’t due for about three weeks, and she had enough money in savings to cover a few days off.
Maybe even a couple of weeks, if she decided to. Didn’t she deserve some time to think things through?
It would be her first vacation in seven years.
He seemed to read her mind. “Say yes, Josie. I could really use your help. You’ve got the most important resource of all. You’re the only one who has seen our friend Flim Flam in the flesh.”
She laughed. It really brought the fake Chase down to size, calling him by such a foolish name. A ridiculous name for a ridiculous man who had to snake his way into a woman’s bed by pretending to be someone else.
“So?” Chase’s eyes sparkled, and he held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Texas Baby Page 5
