by Desiree Holt
No, this was a lot more than just details, no matter what Zane Cameron thought. They had a lot of barriers to crash through while everything played out. Then maybe she could sort out her emotions and see what she planned to do with the rest of her life. Falling in lust and falling in love were two very different things in her book.
"I can smell that brain burning,” he joked, shifting to ease the weight of his big body off hers.
She opened her mouth to answer him when the front door crashed open and a familiar voice yelled up the stairs.
"Hello? Anyone alive in here? Jamie? What the hell is the sheriff's car doing in your driveway?"
Jamie looked at Zane with startled eyes. “Oh, my god, it's Kit."
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Chapter Eight
Zane lifted his head and stared at Jamie. “Who the hell is Kit?"
"My best friend. My only friend. Get these damn handcuffs off me. Now."
"Okay, okay.” Zane rolled off the bed, found the handcuff key, and unlocked her.
She scrambled to her feet and began pulling on her clothes. “My god, I need a shower. So do you. Shit, shit, shit.” Frantically, she found her scrunchee and yanked her hair into a messy pony tail. “I'm coming,” she yelled and turned to hiss at Zane, “Get dressed. Now. How am I going to fix this? Shit!"
Barefoot, still cursing under her breath, Jamie raced down the stairs. Kit was standing at the foot of them in the hallway, arms folded across her chest, a knowing grin on her face.
They were opposite sides of the same coin. Where Jamie was dark, Kit was light, a sunshine blonde. Jamie's eyes were electric blue, Kit's a flashing emerald green. Where Jamie was lush, full-breasted and wide-hipped, Kit was all angles and planes. But they complemented each other well, and their personalities blended, which was all that mattered.
"Don't say a word,” Jamie warned. “Not one word."
Kit made a zipping motion across her lips. “Wouldn't dream of it.” She looked over Jamie's shoulder. “Where's the hunk?"
"Jesus, Kit, who said he was a hunk?"
"He'd better be if you're doing the horizontal tango with him this early in the day."
"What are you doing here, anyway?” Jamie smoothed stray hairs back from her face.
"What a great welcome. ‘Hi, Kit. God, I'm glad to see you. You can't believe how happy I am that you took time off work and flew out here to Bumfuck, Egypt to see me through this trying time.’”
Jamie couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing. “I should scold you for using vacation time and wasting your money to come out here, but damn, I'm glad to see you.” She linked her arm through Kit's. “Come on in the kitchen. I'll make some fresh coffee. What are you doing here, anyway?"
Kit dropped into a kitchen chair, crossing one slim leg over the other. She pushed her hair behind one ear, a gesture Jamie recognized as the prelude to an interrogation.
"We're not playing Twenty Questions,” she told her friend. Then, realizing how harsh it sounded, she hugged Kit and kissed her cheek. “I'm sorry. I'm just all on edge with everything. I am really, really, really glad you're here."
"Wow. Three reallys. You must be in worse shape than I thought.” She held Jamie at arm's length and checked her over with a very critical eye. “You look like shit. Oh, wait. You have an unfamiliar glow. Like shit that's just gotten laid. Is that what the sheriff's SUV in the driveway is all about?"
"God, Kit. You think that's the only reason he's here?"
"I surely do hope so.” Kit's eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. “Lord knows you need it.” Then she eyed Jamie again. “Bad news everywhere else in Amen?"
Jamie shrugged. “No worse than I expected. I wouldn't even be here in this hellhole if it weren't for...” Her voice trailed off. She busied herself, rinsing the carafe and making a fresh pot of coffee.
"That's what I figured.” Kit's voice was warm and soothing. “Mama Bear is here to make it all better. Or at least tolerable. You sounded so down on the telephone I just had to come and see if I could cheer you up. Or help you in some way."
I will not cry. I will not cry.
Jamie turned, squeezing back the tears that threatened, so grateful for her friend that, for a moment, she couldn't speak. How had she gotten so lucky to have Kit in her life, the only constant in what seemed like forever?
"You are the best,” she said. “You know that?"
"Hey, what are friends for? So, what's going on here that's got you so spooked? What did—"
"Jamie?"
Zane's voice. Both heads turned in his direction as he strode into the kitchen. He looked as well put together as he had when he'd first walked in the front door that morning. His face was set in firm lines, his eyes dead serious. Only the slightly dusky flush at his cheekbones betrayed anything, and Jamie was sure no one would have a clue as to what caused it.
Except, of course, Kit.
She held her breath.
"I checked all the rooms upstairs and the windows. I'd say you're tight as a drum. But you do need better locks on the front and back doors."
Jamie swallowed a hysterical giggle. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate you coming all the way out here to check for me."
Kit snorted. “Just how dumb do the two of you think I am?” She stood up and held out her hand. “Hi, Zane. I'm Kit London. You can't imagine how nice it is to finally meet you."
Zane took her hand, a startled look on his face.
"Don't mind her.” Jamie didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Kit's my self-appointed watch dog and know-it-all."
Kit dropped gracefully back into her chair. “I just wanted the good sheriff here to know you both don't have to hide anything from me.” She grinned. “Especially with that guilty look you're both wearing. If you think I believe this man is here to check locks, you really must think I'm dimwitted."
Zane recovered smoothly. “In that case, maybe you can convince your hard-headed friend that she needs to quit running away from things."
"Enough.” Jamie banged mugs on the counter. “Zane, don't you have someone to arrest or something?"
When she turned, he was barely a breath away from her, apparently deciding that Kit needed to actually see them come out of the closet. Maybe help him plead his case.
He put his lips close to her ear. “You can't hide your feelings from me, Jamie, so you might as well quit hiding them from yourself. This isn't the end. Not this time. It's just the beginning.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless.
"I give it a ten,” Kit chuckled.
Breathless, Jamie pushed at him. “We'll talk later,” she hissed.
"You bet we will.” He stepped back, picked up his hat from the counter where he'd left it and slapped it on his head. “I want to know the minute you hear another word from Grayson Ballou. Or anyone. Oh, and Jamie?"
"Yes?” She frowned at the sudden change in his voice.
"Forget about that damn truck and report. You're chasing ghosts. You've got better things to do with your time.” He nodded at Kit, then he was gone, the screen door slamming behind him.
"Well!” Kit wore a big grin. “Come on, I want all the details. You didn't mention exactly how hunky he was."
"You must have gotten up at the crack of dawn to get here. How did you do it, anyway?"
"Flew into San Antonio at an indecent hour, rented a car, and drove here with my trusty MapQuest directions."
"I told you not to worry about me,” Jamie reminded her.
"Oh, yeah, like that's gonna happen. Get real. And don't change the subject."
"Ah, yes, the subject."
"And by the way, what was all that other stuff about? Who's this guy Ballou?"
"Nobody worth discussing.” Jamie sat down with the filled coffee mugs. “And as far as Zane is concerned..."
Kit leaned forward and touched Jamie's arm. “Honey, you keep all this stuff bottled up inside you, you'll self-destruct. I know you feel like the world's closing in, but
maybe you can take one good thing out of it."
"You mean Zane?” Jamie sipped at her coffee and shook her head. “That's complicated."
Kit raised her eyebrows. “How complicated can it be? I don't need a diagram to tell me what you were doing when I got here. And I know I didn't misunderstand the look on your face, or his. So what's wrong?"
Jamie yanked off the scrunchee, smoothed her hair away from her face, and pulled it into a neater pony tail. The glow from the incredible sex was fading, and all the doubts and resentments were welling up again.
She sighed. “Zane used to be known for nailing anything with a pulse. Maybe he still is. And I was the town drunk's daughter who wouldn't do the only thing she was good for—put out."
Kit nodded. “No less than I'd expect of you."
"Anyway. He was four years older than me, working in the feed store and getting into every kind of trouble he could. Then, for some reason, Zane Cameron decided to make me his target. I had a king-sized crush on him, and eventually he wore me down.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “Funny thing about that, though. It turned into more than either of us ever expected. I'm not sure which of us was more shocked."
"That happens.” Kit stirred sweetener into her coffee, her eyes never leaving Jamie's face. “So what's the story?"
"He wanted me to stay here. Get married, if you can believe that. Even promised to settle down.” She snorted. “Like I could trust one thing that tomcat said. I'd be stuck in this place just waiting for him to come home when he felt like it."
"People change,” Kit pointed out. “He certainly seems to have filled his part of the bargain. You can't be sheriff if you're still the town hell-raiser."
Jamie fiddled with the bottom of her T-shirt. “Kit, you can't imagine how badly I wanted out of this place. Away from my father. From everything. I was determined Zane wasn't going to tie me down and keep me here."
"So you spit in his face and set off to see the world."
"Yup. That about says it."
Kit was silent for a long moment, studying her friend. “So answer a question for me? Did you love him then and do you love him now?"
"That's two questions, you fink.” Jamie shook her head. “Then? What does an eighteen-year-old know about love? I hardly knew how to talk to anyone. You remember."
"And now?” Kit pursued. “I know you. Casual sex isn't a big part of your life, although you suck at choosing relationships."
"Oh, thank you very much.” Jamie rubbed her hands over her face, wondering if she had any signs of whisker burn. Despite the fact she was sure he shaved every morning, Zane's beard grew in fast. Although Native Americans usually didn't have much chest or facial hair, Zane had many of the genetic traits of his Irish father.
"Well, it's the truth, you know. But that's not the point. You wouldn't be doing what you're doing with him unless you had some really strong feelings for him."
"How about a really strong need for sex?"
Kit shook her head. “Not you. You'd get new batteries for your personal toy before you'd hop into bed with someone you have that kind of history with unless there was something deep involved."
"He hates me, you know.” Jamie's voice was small.
Kit laughed, a full-throated sound. “Oh, yeah? I'd like to get someone to hate me that way."
Jamie sighed again, something she seemed to be doing a lot of. “I don't know. I guess I just don't trust him."
"Maybe it's yourself you don't trust.” Kit got up and refilled her mug. “And maybe, Jamie Randall, there's a reason why life took the turn it did and you ended up back here in Amen. Think about that."
"I don't know. Right now thinking about it is the last thing I want to do."
"It won't go away, you know,” Kit pointed out.
"No, but it'll keep.” She stood up and hugged her friend. “Anyway, I am truly glad you're here. You're the one I can always depend on.” She stepped back. “Let me make a quick phone call. Then I want to talk to you about something. While you're here, we can put that mega-brain of yours to work."
She took a few minutes to find the number for Wild Blue again and got them to promise installation of high speed satellite Internet the next day. Then she turned back to Kit.
"Now, how would you like to help me solve a puzzle or two?"
Kit cocked her head. “That wouldn't have anything to do with the things our good sheriff was cautioning you about, would it?"
Jamie stuffed her feet into running shoes with no laces and headed for the door. “It has everything to do with it. But now that you're here, I have another pair of eyes and ears."
Kit trailed after her to the driveway. “I have no idea what you're talking about."
So Jamie told her about the visit to the scrap yard, the dents in the old truck that didn't make sense, the incomplete accident report. Grayson Ballou. Everything. Well, not quite everything.
Kit stared at the truck, a puzzled look on her face. “Honey, I have to say, Zane may be right about this. How can you tell one dent from another?"
Jamie pointed out the things that had caught her attention. “And I'll show you the accident report when we go inside."
Kit shoved her hands in the pockets of her perfectly tailored slacks. “If you were asking me about stock performance or a startup company, I'm your expert. But all I know about cars and trucks is you buy them and trade them in. Oh, and I have a really good mechanic."
"Well, I know what I'm looking at.” She couldn't keep a belligerent tone from creeping into her voice.
"So you think ... what? The sheriff deliberately wrote an incomplete accident report?"
Jamie huffed in frustration. “No. Not that. I just think he looked at it the same way everyone else did. The town drunk finally did himself in. Zane said it was raining that night and the curve was especially bad. But Kit, my father took that curve every day of his life, most of them drunk out of his skull. And I've seen enough deliberate accidents to recognize what I'm looking at. Someone wanted to get rid of him. I just can't figure out why."
Kit walked around the truck, frowning. “I don't know, kiddo. This truck looks older than Methuselah and has more dents than a bumper car."
"I'm not letting it go, Kit. I felt like I used to feel when I had a story creeping up on me."
"Just make sure it isn't like the last one,” she warned, then, obviously contrite, added, “I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't mean anything by that. Just me and my big mouth."
"It's okay.” Jamie chewed on her thumbnail. “You warned me about that story from the beginning. I should have listened to you."
"Tell me about this Grayson Ballou.” A change of subject was definitely indicated. “What does he have to do with this, if anything?"
"I have no idea. Maybe nothing. But out of the clear blue sky, when I'd hardly been back here three days, he called and wanted to buy my property."
Kit stared at her, mouth open. “Are you kidding me? I mean, I don't want to insult you, but—"
"It's okay. Zane said exactly those words. And you're both right. This place isn't worth shit. Hell, the house is liable to fall down around our ears, and the land isn't even good for growing hay."
She told Kit everything Zane had told her about Ballou, and when she added that there hadn't been any other big land purchases or the hint of a development in the offing, Kit was even more mystified.
"This just doesn't make sense."
"I know,” Jamie agreed. She gave the truck a kick. “All right, let's get out of here. Just give me a few minutes to change. I know you've been riding since you got up, but I want to take you to Copper Ridge for lunch. Then we'll shop at the big H.E.B. grocery over there. I only have the bare necessities in the house, and I at least want to feed you properly."
With my ill-gotten gains.
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Chapter Nine
Amen might not have changed much, but Jamie couldn't say the same for Copper Ridge. A hundred years earlier, the f
ounding fathers of Diablo County had made Amen the county seat. But it was thirty miles from the Interstate and physically unattractive as far as installing technology went.
Then the owner of a huge tract of land died with no heirs, and about five thousand acres of ranchland came on the market. A group of men led by the local banker had enticed some developers to scoop it up, got the court to set the price low enough so they could steal it from the estate, and Copper Ridge was born. Housing developments had sprung up everywhere, the quaint downtown was now a bustling shopping area with stone and glass office buildings, and two decent-sized strip malls had opened on either end of town. The old H.E.B. had moved to one of these malls since Jamie had left.
"We'll find a place to eat here,” Jamie said as she drove the length of the mall.
"How about that?” Kit pointed to a fanciful sign that said Heidi's Café.
Jamie frowned. “I don't know if I want to eat in some place owned by someone named Heidi."
"Oh, come on. Be adventurous. This will be new for both of us."
The inside of the restaurant was as cute as its name. Wicker chairs painted blue and yellow were pulled up to yellow tables, and whimsical scenes right out of Old West tales were painted on the wall. Large cactus plants bloomed in terra cotta pots. And the place was jammed.
"You'd never have found a place like this in Diablo County when I lived here,” Jamie griped.
"It must be good. There isn't a seat available anywhere.” Kit scanned the room.
"Come on. Let's go somewhere else.” Jamie grabbed Kit's hand and tried to tug her toward the door.
"Uh uh.” Kit pulled back. “I want to eat here. I have to find out what the big draw is. Look. There's a table opening up right now"
Before Jamie could protest, Kit had corralled the hostess and they were seated in a corner, partially shielded by one of the big cacti.
"Now. Isn't this nice?” Kit opened the oversized menu and pretended to study it.
Jamie was about to open hers when she sensed someone standing beside her. Looking up, she wished she could disappear into the planter.
