Almost Home Part 2

When he didn't move, she frowned. "Aren't you coming?"

Get in that truck right next to her? Feel her thighs against his, be a whisper away from her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s?

"Sam's going to send someone back for me," he said tersely.

"Oh." She licked her full lips, and Zach's breath caught in his throat. He wanted her to go, and fast, before he got into the truck next to her, before he convinced himself she needed his help getting into town, getting into the hotel ... getting into bed.

"Well, thanks for staying with me," she said. "I'm sorry I almost hit your van. I hope your horse is all right."

"He'll be fine." Zach wasn't so sure about himself. He moved forward to shut the door for her, then paused, knowing he couldn't leave her without one word of warning. "Be careful, Kat."

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't California. This is horse country."

"I don't understand."

"Family, bloodlines, tradition, they're pretty d.a.m.n important around here. No one wants a scandal. And they won't take kindly to a stranger asking nosy questions."

"Those things are pretty important to me, too. I'm really not trying to cause any trouble."

"You know what they say about the road to h.e.l.l being paved with good intentions."

"I can't quit. I've always done the safe thing, taken the easy way out." She glanced back at where Billy was finis.h.i.+ng the hookup and lowered her voice. "If I don't do this, I'm afraid I'll never do anything. I'll never take the big chance. I'll never walk out on the high wire."

She looked him straight in the eye, and he could see the desperation, the need to prove something, if only to herself. Zach shut the door between them, because if he spent one more second in conversation with her, he had a feeling he'd be out on that high wire along with her.

"You coming, Zach?" Billy asked.

"No. Sam will be back for me."

"You sure?" He tipped his head toward the truck. "I think she likes you."

"That woman is trouble with a capital T."

"Like I said, just your type. By the way, great race on Sunday. Rogue surprised a lot of people. If he hadn't stumbled out of the gate, who knows what would have happened? Of course, J.T. said Enrique gave Rogue the rail when he should have kept him outside."

"n.o.body gives Rogue anything. He takes what he needs."

Zach was glad to change the conversation to horses. He was only too happy to be reminded that Rogue was his first, last, and only priority.

"Can Rogue take the Derby?"

"Maybe," Zach said, deliberately casual. He didn't give a d.a.m.n what people thought now, only what they'd think after the first Sat.u.r.day in May.

Billy nodded. "I figure he'll be a long shot, but might be worth a few bucks."

Zach shrugged. "Do what you want."

Billy tipped his head toward the woman sitting in his front seat. "Think she'd go out with me?"

"Now, I'd say that's a real long shot." Zach watched as Billy hopped into the truck and took off down the highway. He didn't think Billy Dawson had even the remotest chance of getting a date with Katherine Whitfield. He was far too young. She was more interested in the fifty-year-old generation.

The thought of Katherine nosing around ParadiseValley for her long-lost father was actually somewhat amusing. It was about time someone else caused a scandal, and Zach sure wouldn't mind seeing one of the good old boys caught with his pants down, even if it was twenty something years after the fact. His mind whirled with likely candidates. Maybe he shouldn't have encouraged her to go back to California. A little fireworks right before the Derby might make the race even more interesting, especially if Katherine's father turned out to be someone in the racing world, someone with a horse, someone with an agenda, someone with little to gain and a lot to lose.

Zach set off down the highway, preferring to walk rather than wait. He could think of two or three good men to play the role of Katherine's long-lost father. And two or three wives who'd probably hang them for it. Not that anyone in Paradise would willingly admit to such a devastating secret, not in a valley where breeding the purest of bloodlines wasn't just a hobby but an obsession. A b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter wasn't going to please anyone. He just hoped Katherine was prepared. She might be willing to walk out on the high wire, but he had a feeling she had no idea how far she might fall.

Brooks, Perderson, Stanton, Malloy. Katherine ran her finger down the list of names. Upon her arrival at the one and only hotel in Paradise, she'd discovered a directory of horse farms in the downstairs gift shop and figured it was as good a place as any to start her search.

The three biggest farms in the area appeared to be owned by the Brookses, the Pedersons, and the Stantons, which didn't make any difference to her, except that the S logo next to Stanton reminded her of the sign on the van she'd nearly crashed into a few hours earlier.

Maybe Zach Tyler worked for Stanton Farms. That might be helpful. Meanwhile she ran down the list of names again, noting how many of the owners' first names started with the letter J. She began to wonder if there was some law in this small town to name every available male Jim, John, Jeff, Joseph, Jerry, or Jack. She'd never suspected that there were so many names starting with a J.

Her quest suddenly seemed impossibly daunting. Maybe Zach Tyler was right. Maybe she should go home and forget all about this crazy idea of finding her father. But the items in the chest and the questions they posed had become a part of her life. And she felt tied to them, as if they were the only things that made sense to her.

Katherine closed the directory and stood up. Her hotel room was on the small side but comfortable with a red and black feather bedspread on the full bed and some charming country knick-knacks on the matching bedside tables. There was an overstuffed red armchair in one corner of the room, with lacy doilies on the sleeves, and a television set hidden inside a large oak armoire.

It wasn't sophisticated by any stretch of the imagination but it was warm and cozy, and Katherine felt more at home here than she'd ever felt in her stepfather's mansion in Beverly Hills.

Walking across the room, she knelt down next to the chest. Slipping her fingers under the latch, she lifted the lid and pulled out a corner of the quilt. She pressed it to her face and inhaled the sweet scent of lavender. Katherine couldn't imagine how the scent could be so strong after so many years.

She took a deep breath, the luscious perfume teasing her with a memory she couldn't quite grasp, a voice she could almost hear, a picture she could almost see. She knew she'd smelled the lavender before, but she couldn't remember where.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to find the memory buried deep in her subconscious, but no image came to mind, only the smell of lavender, the faint sound of music, cla.s.sical perhaps, and soft notes that matched a gentle laugh.

"Mom," she whispered. "Is that you?"

Her mother's face came to life in Katherine's mind. She could see Evelyn's light brown hair and the clear blue eyes that always seemed to hold a glimmer of sadness. They were looking at her now, warning her to be careful, yet encouraging her to go forward. Or maybe she was imagining the whole thing, her own mind reflecting ambivalence, confusion.

Why hadn't her mother told her about her father? Why the big secret? What had she been trying to hide? Whom had she been trying to protect?

Katherine opened her eyes with a sigh, wis.h.i.+ng for the impossible, one last conversation with her mother. There were so many things she wanted to ask her. Why didn't you send the letter? Why did you hide the chest in the attic? Why did you marry Mitch.e.l.l anyway? Was it to give me a father? To make me stop asking questions about my real father?

Katherine ran a finger around the corner square of the quilt, studying the design with desperation, wondering if she would somehow find the answers to her questions in the material. A border of lilies wound its way around the outside squares of the quilt. The inside squares were a hodgepodge of different materials, some patterned, some plain, some silk, some linen, notes and dates and names that meant nothing to Katherine, at least not yet. But it was early. And she'd only just arrived in Paradise.

Pus.h.i.+ng the quilt back into the chest, Katherine stood up and walked to the window. Her room faced Main Street , which seemed to run about six blocks in both directions. Paradise wasn't exactly a thriving metropolis. From her vantage point she could see a drugstore, beauty parlor, stationery store, bank, post office, a couple of restaurants, and a craft shop.

Her gaze lingered on the knitting needles etched on the sign hanging over the door across the street. It might be a good place to ask about her quilt. Tomorrow, she decided. She'd go there first thing. But tonight-tonight she was going to Golden's.

The bar and grill was located on a side street a few blocks away. Billy Dawson had pointed it out to her when they'd dropped her car off at the garage. She'd told herself she'd go once she got checked in, once she got settled, but here it was almost six o'clock at night, and she still hadn't made a move.

"Coward," she said out loud. "Chicken."

Unfortunately, not even self-inflicted insults could get her out the door. She didn't feel ready yet. Because she was afraid, her conscience repeated wearily, as if she were also a dimwit. Maybe she was a dimwit, tilting at windmills like Don Quixote on his impossible quest.

Katherine flung herself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She probably wouldn't have moved for another hour if someone hadn't knocked at her door.

A sudden irrational thought that it might be Zach Tyler ran through her mind, sending her off the bed faster than any lecture from her conscience. Not that she wanted to see him again, she told herself firmly, taking a quick look in the mirror on her way to the door. He'd been rude, c.o.c.ky, and definitely unsupportive.

Still, she couldn't help the tingle that ran down her spine at the thought of him. His image was indelibly printed on her brain; his dark eyes, rugged face, and his hands. She'd never felt such strength in a man's hands, such power, such anger, such control. She had a feeling he could be incredibly rough. She had a feeling he could be incredibly gentle. Her stomach turned over at the thought of his hands on her.

Shaking that distracting thought out of her head, she moved to the door and said, "Who is it?"

"Maggie Harper. I have some towels for you."

Her heart fell to the floor. "Fool," she muttered to herself as she opened the door.

A young woman stood in the hallway holding a stack of puffy blue towels. With her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and bright green eyes that showed barely a hint of life experience, she looked to be about nineteen.

"Hi, I'm Maggie Harper," she said with a pop of her chewing gum and a great big smile.

"h.e.l.lo," Katherine said, not sure what to do. She'd never had a maid introduce herself before.

"My mama and papa own this hotel, Caroline and Sean Harper. I'm their only daughter, the front desk clerk, the maid, and their slave seven days a week," Maggie said.

Katherine smiled back at her. "You're mult.i.talented then."

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how many talents I have and how little I'm paid for them."

"I'm Katherine Whitfield."

"Sure. I saw your name in the register. Can I put these towels in the bathroom for you?"

"The other ones aren't dirty."

"Oh, that's all right. We change 'em every evening no matter what," Maggie said, strolling into the room. "I hear you had a run-in with Zach Tyler today."

Katherine had the feeling she knew why she was getting clean towels. "I had a little accident with my car."

Maggie paused at the bathroom door. "He's trouble, you know."

"I didn't know."

"Well, I guess you wouldn't, seeing as how you're a stranger and all. But he don't come from good stock. As mama says, apples never fall far from the tree."

Katherine had no idea how to reply. She doubted Zach would be happy to know the hotel maid was giving her the rundown on his family history.

Maggie disappeared into the bathroom, only to reappear a few seconds later with the old towels heaped in her arms. "He's awful cute, though," she said with a yearning youthful sigh. "Not that he spends much time in town since Crystal left him."

"Crystal?"

"His fiancee. Left him standing at the altar with his rented tuxedo and a church full of people."

Katherine couldn't believe what she was hearing, and although she didn't normally gossip, she found it impossible not to ask one more question. "How did he take it?"

"Didn't even blink. Thanked the minister for coming and walked out."

That sounded like the silent man she'd met earlier.

"Most folks thought Zach deserved what he got. After all, his old man stole half the town's money some years back, and a lot of people thought Zach helped him do it. Not that there was any real proof of anything. It was one of those swindles that leaves everyone shaking their head. I was a kid at the time, but I remember all the hoopla. Crystal didn't know any of it, since she's not from around here, but I guess she found out about Zach before it was too late."

Katherine cleared her throat, not sure why she was feeling sorry for Zach. She didn't know the man at all, and from everything Maggie said, he wasn't going to win any awards for honesty, integrity, or general human kindness. Still, she couldn't forget that he'd stayed with her on the highway and helped her with her car when she was the one to blame for landing it in a ditch in the first place. Those hardly seemed the actions of a horrible man.

"I have to go out," Katherine said abruptly, feeling guilty for having listened to Maggie. She'd make her own decisions about Zach if and when she ever saw him again. "Maybe we can talk another time."

"Oh, sure," Maggie said with a cheerful nod. "I'll be cleaning your room every day. How long are you staying?"

"That depends on when my car gets fixed. The mechanic said it might be a few days."

"Oh, well, we have an extra car around here if you need to borrow it. Just stop in at the front desk and Mama or I will give you the keys."

"Thanks." As Katherine shut the door, she thought about what Maggie had told her. It seemed like people were judging Zach by the actions of his father. Good stock, bad stock. She'd never a.s.sociated those words with people until just now.

Zach's words came back into her head. This is horse country. Family, bloodlines, tradition, they're pretty d.a.m.n important around here.

She had a feeling Zach had learned that lesson the hard way. Despite his warning, she knew she couldn't leave Paradise. She was missing a big part of her life, her biological father, her background, her roots, her family history. Maybe she'd have the guts to stand up for who she was-if she had any idea who she was. Even if she never spoke to her father, if she could find out his name, maybe see him at work or with his friends...

Who was she kidding? She hadn't come halfway across the country to stare at some stranger from afar.

Well, she didn't know what she was going to do when she found him, but she'd leave that be for the moment. Right now she just wanted more information. It was time to stop hiding and get on with it. She picked up her key and headed out the door to Golden's Grill. She knew the restaurant had to be important.

Maybe Golden's was where her parents had met, a secret meeting place for two young lovers. Katherine could almost imagine her mother holding hands with some handsome young man in the shadowy candlelight, stealing perhaps her first sip of wine, maybe leaning over now and then to share a kiss...

Chapter 3.

Zach winced as the noise in Golden's grew louder by the second. With most of the women at the weekly quilting, Wednesday nights had become old boys' night at Golden's. While the back half of Golden's, known as the grill, served up burgers and fries, the front half, the bar, offered plenty of beer and Kentucky bourbon. Over the bar, a television blared, the satellite dish outside picking up racetrack feeds from all over the country.

Normally Zach avoided Golden's and all the other local hangouts where his father's name still lived on in infamy. Whoever said the sins of the father are visited on the son could have been talking about Jackson Tyler and his son, Zachary. No one in Paradise had ever seemed able to distinguish between the two.

Zach took that back. One man had made the distinction-Harry Stanton, owner of Stanton Farms, the man who had given him a job and a home at sixteen and taught him everything there was to know about thoroughbred racehorses. Harry Stanton had seen something in Zach that Zach hadn't even seen in himself.

That was why he'd come to Golden's tonight-for Harry, to pick up the weekly report from the private investigator Harry had hired to do some work for him. Zach didn't know what Harry was investigating. h.e.l.l, it could have been himself for all Zach knew. It wasn't his job to ask questions. He simply had to meet Walter Simmons at Golden's every Wednesday night and take a manila envelope back to Harry.

Zach had been making the trip into town for the last six weeks. And each time Harry seemed to get more and more depressed by the contents of that envelope. Zach picked it up. It seemed lighter tonight. He wondered if that meant good or bad, or if he should give Harry a little s.p.a.ce tomorrow. Thursdays had become known as "black Thursday" around the farm, with Harry venting all over the place, leaving everyone wondering what the h.e.l.l happened on Wednesday night to drive him into such a rage. Zach had a feeling the answer was right in front of him.

His finger slid along the seal. He was itching to take a peek, but before he could break his promise to Harry, Justin Blakemore, the longtime bartender at Golden's, set a cold beer down in front of him.

"How you doing, Zach?"

"Not bad." Zach took a sip of his beer.