“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, storming up to Hollister.
Though Zach was completely in the dark, Chad’s crestfallen expression told Zach he knew exactly what Kris was referring to.
“I planned to,” he replied in a voice that tried to calm her. “I just wanted to wait until we were alone. It’s not even official yet. It’s merely supposition until we get the marshal’s ruling.”
“I still had a right to know.”
Hollister sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to spare you for a little while.”
She stared at him for a time, seconds turning into moments, the moments rife with tension. Then slowly, she let go of her anger and nodded toward the street. “They need you down there. Something about rerouting traffic for a while longer.”
“Okay, just don’t be mad, all right? I was thinking of you.”
Kristin nodded, then Hollister hugged her briefly, murmured something Zach couldn’t hear, and left.
Zach dumped the rest of Chad’s gift-coffee into the gravel, took the bag from the hood of his truck and wandered over to Kristin.
He handed her her cup, then jammed his empty one inside the bag and crunched the whole works in his hands. “What’s up?”
“They suspect arson.”
“Arson?”
Kristin nodded, a stray breeze tossing her bangs. “Al Miller—the husband of one of my regular customers—said he thinks it was an accelerant fire. He and some of the others smelled kerosene when they arrived. Apparently, gasoline fumes disappear quickly, but kerosene lingers.”
Tears shone in her eyes again. “If that’s true, it means that someone deliberately destroyed my shop. Who would do that?” she demanded on a plea. “I don’t have enemies.”
Zach drew her close again, wondering if it felt this good to hold her because he wanted to piss off Hollister, or because it was Kristin in his arms. She felt so small, so fragile. “Much as I hate to agree with anything Chad says, he’s right. It’s just a guess right now. Wait until the fire marshal checks things out before you jump to conclusions.”
Backing away, she pulled her keys from the pocket of her jeans. “That’s another thing. The fire marshal won’t be able to get to it for at least four days, maybe a week. He’s investigating another fire right now.”
Zach fell into step beside her as she walked around the front of his truck, then to the driver’s side of her late model, white-and-blue custom van. Forget Me Not Antiques was painted on the side in silver-edged blue, all loopy script within a ring of tiny pink and blue flowers. He experienced a twinge looking at it.
“What now?” he asked.
“Home to take a shower, then I’ll start calling people. The insurance company first. Then Rachel, then the utility companies, then…” She drew a deep breath and let it out wearily. “I don’t know who else. It’ll come to me.”
“Want some help?”
Kristin shook her head, the confidence and direction he’d seen in her yesterday slowly returning. “Thanks, but no. I need to pull myself together and stop leaning on other people. That’s not my way.”
“All right,” he said, his pride in her increasing as he took his wallet from his back pocket. He withdrew a business card, then glanced at the back of it before he extended it to her. “If you change your mind, the chicken-scratching on the back is my cell phone number. I’ll be at the farmhouse.”
Hesitantly, Kristin took the card, then looked up at him. “Chad said he’d see if one of his deputies could work for him today, so he’ll be around….”
Masking a stab of jealousy, Zach forced a careless shrug. “Oh. That’s fine.”
“Thanks for putting me up for the night, though,” she said with a tired smile. “I really didn’t want to be alone.”
“No problem,” he said, closing her door when she got inside. “Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.”
But it was a problem, he thought a few hours later—she was a problem. Because for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, he couldn’t do a damn thing right to save his soul. He’d ruined two planks, burned the hamburgers he’d put on the grill for lunch and just generally screwed up everything he touched. He kept seeing her in his mind, alternately strong and focused, then uncertain and sad.
Of course, the ever-helpful Chad would be there for her, Zach remembered, going back inside the house to grab his keys and change to a fresh shirt.
By two o’clock, he was at the building supply house outside of town, buying new porch lights and more lumber to replace the boards he’d cut too short. Then he went through Burger Bear’s drive-thru for a more palatable lunch. He was on his way back when he passed a patrol car with its lights flashing and saw Hollister ticketing an out-of-state driver.
A rush of adrenaline hit him. Chad hadn’t found anyone to work for him. Kris was alone. Zach pushed his boot down a little harder on the accelerator and headed back to the Burger Bear to use their phone book.
Kris was just getting out of her van when Zach pulled into the driveway behind her. She was carrying something wrapped in aluminum foil.
“Late lunch or an early dinner?” he asked casually, getting out and nodding at the package.
“Neither,” she said with a rueful smile. “Cinnamon rolls, piping hot from the oven. I just got back from Mrs. Zimm’s home. The Amish don’t have telephones, so I had to drive out to tell her I wouldn’t be able to sell her baked goods anymore. At least not for a while. She insisted that I take these.”
“She sounds like a nice woman.”
“She really is,” Kristin replied, then assessed him curiously. “What are you doing here?”
Smiling, Zach took in her pretty face and sun-struck hair, the navy-and-white-striped top she wore with crisp white slacks and deck shoes. She looked beautiful and fresh and strong, despite the pain and disappointment she was feeling underneath. No doubt about it, Kristin Chase was a trouper. A delicate gold sailboat hung from a chain around her neck.
“What am I doing here?” he repeated, his smile increasing. “I guess I must have smelled warm cinnamon rolls.”
Kristin stared for a second, then shook her head and allowed a smile to edge her lips. He was glad she didn’t press him for a better explanation because he didn’t have one.
“Come on.” She nodded toward the flower-lined walk leading to the beige-and-white town house’s front porch. “I’ll make coffee. We’ll have a picnic.”
When they were settled on the small, tree-shaded patio off her living room, Kristin repeated the question. This time he had to give her an honest answer.
“I was worried about you,” Zach answered. “You weren’t in the best of shape when we said goodbye this morning. Then I saw Chad ticketing some guy along the road and knew you were probably alone. I didn’t want you to be, so I looked up your address in the phone book.”
“I was fine.”
“But I didn’t know that.”
Her soft smile thanked him.
Zach looked around as she moved the pot of leafy pink roses to the flagstone floor to make room for the cinnamon rolls, then filled their cups from a white carafe. She had a decorator’s touch. Their white china plates sat atop woven hunter green place mats on the glass table, and matching hunter-green cushions covered the seats of her white wrought-iron chairs. More roses climbed a trellis beside the sparkling patio doors, and big clay pots spilled over with the same kind of pink, white and lavender flowers that lined her walk. When a gray squirrel chattered his irritation at songbirds chirping in a nearby maple tree, Zach decided that this was no picnic. It was a Disney movie.
Kristin slid her pink-flowered napkin from a white ring and placed it on her lap. Feeling awkward, Zach did the same, glad his crew couldn’t see him. He was out of his element, but there was no point in looking like a barbarian.
He helped himself to a cinnamon roll. “I like your place.”
“Thanks. I like it, too. I almost kept my mom’s house, but
after I got out of school, I decided there were too many unhappy memories there. I wanted to start fresh.”
“That’s understandable.” He’d wanted to start a new life from the time he was eight and recognized his old life for what it was.
His gaze moved over her classic features again, drinking in her wide brown eyes…lingering on soft lips that, not so long ago, had returned his fevered kisses with equal passion and left him quaking like a school kid. It was no surprise when a purely male response stirred beneath his napkin.
“It looks like I worried for nothing. You look better, more accepting.” He smiled. “And pretty.”
Cheeks coloring, Kristin sipped from her cup, then returned it to her saucer. “I have to accept. I don’t have any choice. Still, when I think of everything that burned, it hurts. As I told you last night, I’m well covered, but heaven knows how long it will take my insurance company to settle my claim. Especially if they suspect arson.”
Zach nodded grimly as he chewed a bite of his roll. The insurance company would have to rule out any involvement on Kristin’s part before they paid up—that was a given. But depending upon the company, if the fire was deliberately set and no arrest was made, it could be months until she saw a dime.
“Did you call your sister?” he asked. Hopefully, Rachel had had some comforting things to say.
“Not yet. She was with a client, so I told Addie—her receptionist—that I’d call back later.”
The phone rang just then, startling them both. But it was Zach’s cell phone that needed answering, not hers. Grinning, he took the small unit from the pocket of his chambray shirt. “Maybe that’s Rachel now.”
“Now that would be a first,” Kristin said, laughing. The only reason Rachel would call Zach was to give him another piece of her mind.
But less than a minute into the conversation, Kristin watched Zach’s features cloud, and she excused herself to refill their carafe and give him some privacy.
She needed some privacy, too. The jitters she’d been feeling since he arrived were wreaking havoc—a fact that was fairly evident when she spilled coffee all over her countertop as she transferred it from her coffeemaker to the carafe.
Grabbing a sponge from the sink, she mopped up the puddle, thinking how strange life was. Three days ago, she wouldn’t have given Zach Davis the time of day if she’d had an armful of wristwatches. Now they were sitting across a table like old friends. She couldn’t begin to fathom how that had come about. One moment they were slinging insults at each other, the next…the next, he was kissing her senseless and she was melting in his arms.
Zach walked inside as she was leaving the kitchen, his expression troubled. Kristin paused in the doorway. He was so big, so darkly masculine that he seemed to leech the color from her peach-and-mint décor until the only thing she saw was him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked nervously.
“That was my foreman. I’m sorry, but I have to head back to Nags Head. A problem’s come up that needs my attention.”
Kristin stilled. She would’ve thought she’d feel relief, not this sinking disappointment. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
“Me, too,” he replied grimly.
Moistening her lips, she shrugged. “Well…thanks for stopping by.”
But Zach didn’t move. He stood there for a long moment, his gray gaze full of turmoil and seemingly torn by indecision.
She nearly dropped the carafe on the floor when he finally spoke.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Come with me,” he repeated, more strength and certainty in his voice now. “I’ve already called the airport. There’s a flight leaving in two hours. That should give you plenty of time to pack.”
Chapter 7
“I —I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Zach strolled a little closer to her. “It would be good for you—the sun, the sand, the ocean. They could be just what you need right now. Have you ever been to the Outer Banks?”
“No, but—”
“Then you owe this to yourself. There’ll never be a better time. Remember when we thought we’d be living there? We talked about swimming and looking for shells….”
Yes, they had. They’d also talked about making love on the beach every night. Gretchen had put a stop to that. “That was a long time ago.”
“I realize that. But those things are still there. You could swim, collect shells, read while you sunbathe…but mostly, you could regroup. You could think about where you want to go from here without any distractions.”
Kristin shook her head, bewildered that he could suggest such a thing. “Zach, I have responsibilities here. I can’t just pack up and leave.”
“What responsibilities?”
“Have you forgotten that I have a major mess to clean up?”
“Have you forgotten that you can’t touch anything until the fire marshal has investigated—which, you just told me won’t be for the better part of a week? We’ll be back by then. What’s the real reason you won’t go? Chad?”
Sighing, Kristin went to her sofa, set the carafe beside the leafy green centerpiece on the coffee table, and sank to the cushions. It was time for honesty.
“No. It’s not because of Chad. Chad and I are friends who see a movie or have dinner occasionally. That’s all. I know he wants more, but I don’t see that happening right now.”
The look on Zach’s face wasn’t what she expected. Considering his and Chad’s antagonistic past, she’d expected smug approval, maybe a gleam of satisfaction. But the thoughts moving through Zach’s eyes weren’t even close to that. In fact, he seemed to be taken aback, faintly troubled by her admission.
It was several moments before he walked to the sofa and sat down beside her, looking out of place amid her feminine furnishings. Her peach-and-mint florals, brass accents and glass tables clashed badly with strong, tanned man and blue denim. A sudden breeze through the patio doors lifted the white sheers beneath her drapes…tossed the dark hair falling over Zach’s forehead.
“All right, if it’s not Chad, then what’s stopping you?”
Kristin stared in disbelief. “You can’t guess?” Couldn’t he feel the coiled tension, the persistent awareness between them, even now?
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he nodded soberly, those gray eyes penetrating hers until she felt so unstrung, she had to get up. Walking out to the patio, she started clearing the table.
“It wouldn’t be a problem,” Zach said, following her.
“Really?” Kristin retrieved a serving tray from the seat of an unused chair, then started stacking their plates and silverware. “Where do you see me staying?”
“At my beach house, where I spend very little time, and where we’d each have our own bedrooms. If that makes you uneasy, I can sleep at the trailer.”
Kristin kept working, avoiding his gaze, disturbed that they were even addressing the issue of chemistry. To address it meant admitting that the attraction still existed, and that made her feel vulnerable. “Sleep at a construction trailer instead of your own home?”
“During the summer months, I work twelve-to sixteen-hour days, every day. It wouldn’t be the first time I bunked there.”
Zach took the plates from her hands, added them to the tray and forced her to look at him. “I didn’t want to bring this up, but if the fire was deliberately set, I’d worry about you. I know you have friends, and I know Chad would look out for you. But he has to work. And as far as family goes, you have no one but Rachel, and she’s in Arizona. You’re too alone here, Kris.”
The implication struck her like a thunderclap, along with the realization of just how alone in this world she really was. She had cousins and aunts and uncles, but they all lived several states away. Her heart began to pound, fear stepping in for the first time. “You think—”
“No, I don’t think anyone wants to hurt you personally. If that were
the case, I doubt the fire would’ve been at the shop.”
No, it probably would have been here, at her home. Gooseflesh cropped up on her arms.
“Still, setting a fire does send a message that someone’s pretty ticked off. If it was an arson. Come with me. I should be able to take care of my business in two days—three at the most. You have a lot of work ahead of you. You need to step back and take a few deep breaths before you begin.”
Kristin studied the caring and compassion in his eyes, wondering where those tender emotions had been the night he’d ruined their dreams. Had they been buried beneath doubts and insecurity as he’d claimed? Because there was no sign of that now.
Not that it mattered. What mattered now was the problem at hand, and he was right about that. Searching through the ashes of her shop to see if anything had survived would cut to the core. Watching men clear away the rubble until nothing remained but an empty lot would hurt even more. Maybe she did need to ready herself for what was to come. Maybe…
“All right,” she agreed quietly.
“All right what?”
“I’ll go. Thank you.”
Releasing a relieved blast of air, Zach pulled her close, and without thinking, Kristin hugged him back, grateful for his warmth and his strength.
He smiled as he released her. “I’ll see myself out and be back to pick you up in an hour. Don’t forget to pack a swimsuit and something to read.”
“I won’t.”
A minute later, Kristin waved a tentative goodbye to him from the patio, her pulse racing again. Was she in danger? Had she unknowingly made an enemy who wanted to ruin her? Or was the real danger in going off with a man she was beginning to care about again?
Piling the remaining dishes on the tray, she took them to the sink, then went to her room to pack. She’d nearly finished stuffing her carry-on when she spied Anna Mae’s diaries on top of her bureau and added them, too. If she hadn’t been so rattled last night and scooped them up with her purse and paperwork, they’d be gone now, along with everything else.
Before she’d driven out to the Zimm’s, she’d phoned Mildred Arnett to ask if she wanted the journals. But the strange woman had balked at the very idea, insisting that the words of the dead weren’t for the living to read. She’d even worried that Anna Mae’s spirit might have started the fire in Kristin’s shop—that maybe none of her cousin’s belongings should have been taken from the “death house.” Maybe she—Mildred—was even courting danger by having some of Anna Mae’s things in her home.
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