Almost Home (19 page)
Katherine adjusted her seat belt as Zach climbed into
the truck. She smoothed down her dress, which had crept up over her legs, then
turned to lock the door.
Zach sent her an amused look. "You can lock that
door, Kat, but I've got news for you. Looking the way you do tonight, smelling
the way you smell, you're in far more danger from me than anyone on the street."
She caught her breath at the shimmer of desire in his
eyes. "I—I don't know what to say."
"Well, that's a first," he said with a laugh
as he gunned the engine.
Katherine struggled for a witty, sexy reply, but
nothing came to mind, so she settled for what she hoped was cool silence. A few
minutes later they arrived at the restaurant.
Rico's was small, with green and white checkered
tablecloths, dimly lit lamps, and a jukebox playing in the corner. It was a
warm, friendly restaurant, and Katherine felt immediately more relaxed.
"This is nice," she said.
"Probably not what you're used to."
She inwardly sighed, wondering if she'd ever convince
him that style and money had never mattered to her. If they had, she would have
stayed in
Zach led her over to a corner booth. "I'll order
the pizza," he said as she sat down. "What do you like?"
"Oh, just get whatever you want. I'll eat
anything."
"Fine."
"Except anchovies," she said hastily.
"Got it." He turned to leave.
"And olives. I'm not big on black olives. Maybe
no green peppers either."
He flung her an amused glance. "What about
onions?"
Katherine hesitated. "Really, whatever you want,
but maybe not onions."
"Pepperoni?"
"Perfect."
"A dangerous pizza for a dangerous woman,"
he said with a laugh, then went to place their order.
Katherine made a face at his back. So maybe she wasn't
a risk taker with pizza. She'd gotten herself all the way to
sexiest man on the face of the planet. If that wasn't living on the edge, she didn't
know what was.
Zach returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of
soda and two glasses. "I didn't figure you for the beer type."
"You never know," she said, even though she
absolutely hated beer.
He slid into the booth, edging over until his thigh touched
her leg. "Now, this is nice," he said, his voice low and husky. "Very
nice."
She cleared her throat. "What's in the back room?"
"A pool table."
"Do you play?"
"Yes."
"Would you play with me?"
He gave her another slow, sexy grin. "Honey,
there are things I'd like to play with you, but pool isn't one of them."
"Well, pool is your only option," she said,
sliding out of the booth before she melted into a big puddle of desire at Zach
Tyler's feet. When he put his mind to charming a woman, he was almost irresistible.
Zach followed her into the back room where a pool
table rested in the center, with pinball machines and video games along the
walls. Several kids were playing the arcade games, but the pool table was
empty.
"Okay, here's what you do," Zach said. "You
want to hit the white ball with your cue. That's the stick you use. You knock
the white ball against the other balls so they roll into the pockets. But you
don't want to hit the black one, not until the end."
She listened to his explanation with a growing smile. "That
sounds complicated."
"We don't have to play."
"No, I want to."
"Something else new to try, huh? Well, I suppose
it's all part of the slumming experience."
Katherine took a cue stick off the wall. "This is
what I use to hit the white ball?"
"That's right. Now, let me show you how to hold
it."
Zach came up behind her, his hard body against her
back making it difficult to concentrate. He put his hands over her hands,
showing her how to hold the stick, how to tap the ball.
"I think I can do it," she said. "Why
don't we make a bet?"
He sent her a doubtful look. "Why don't we see if
you can hit one ball into the pocket?"
"But it would be more fun with a bet. Tell you
what. If you win, I'll give you a really good kiss."
"Keep talking."
"And if I win, you'll teach me how to ride a
horse."
His laugh was more of a snort. "Yeah, right.
Sure, why not? You're never going to beat me."
"Is it a bet?"
"Pucker up, sweetheart."
She pushed him away from her. "Give me a little
room, okay?"
"Fine." He racked up the balls, then stepped
back. "Now, don't forget you're hitting the white ball."
"I won't forget."
Katherine ran her fingers down the smooth wooden cue,
the familiarity renewing her confidence. She couldn't wait to wipe that cocky,
know-it-all expression off Zach Tyler's face. She set the cue on the table and
with quiet deliberation took her first shot, scattering the balls across the
table. She considered her options and set up one shot after another, dropping
the balls into the slots with the same efficiency of a deadly hit man.
She never once looked at Zach, but she could sense
when his smile started to fade, when the air grew tense, when his sudden throat
clearing contained a hint of nervousness. She'd never played such a clean game.
And when she was done she stood back and admired her handiwork. Then she
glanced over at Zach.
He wasn't smiling. "You
hustled me."
"You deserved it."
"I haven't been taken
in a very long time."
"When you look at me,
you see what you want to see, but you don't see me." She walked over to
him, stopping just a breath away. "Too bad you lost. If you hadn't, I
might be kissing you right now."
He struggled with a smile. "You're
a piece of work, Katherine Whitfield."
"I'll take that as a
compliment."
"Where did you learn
to play pool?"
"My stepfather had a
pool table. Billiards was his
favorite game. And
I was, as always, the stepdaughter who was eager to please."
"Billiards." Zach nodded, his expression
filled with self-disgust. "Should have figured that, a rich girl like you."
"If I wanted to live like a rich girl, as you
like to call me, do you really think I'd be here—with you?"
"You might be taking a walk on the wild side. But
that doesn't mean you're planning to stay."
"I don't know what I'm planning. Stop trying to
second-guess me." She paused. "So when are you going to teach me to
ride?"
"We'll discuss your riding lessons later,"
Zach said hastily.
"A bet's a bet."
"Hey, Zach," a man said from the doorway. "Pizza's
ready. I put it on your table."
"You're not going to get out of it,"
Katherine said, following him back to their table. Actually, she wasn't all
that sure she wanted to ride. In fact, if she'd stopped to consider the pros
and cons, she might not have made such a bet. But there had been no time to
make a list. Oh, well, Zach would probably try to get out of it anyway, she
told herself.
She stopped worrying about her upcoming riding lesson
as soon as she got to the table. The pizza was hot and she was hungry. They ate
quietly for the next few minutes, listening to the music, enjoying the soft
murmur of conversation. Katherine hadn't felt so comfortable in a long time.
She sat quietly for another minute, hating to break
the accord that had grown between them, but there were things she needed to
know about Zach's father so she could be prepared. "Zach—"
"Don't," he interrupted.
"I need to know more about your father."
"Why?"
"Because I don't think he's done with me yet. Do
you?"
Zach took a long draft of his beer, then set the glass
down on the table. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."
She leaned forward, hating the way his face had grown
hard, his eyes had turned bitter. "You're not responsible for his actions.
You're his son, not his gatekeeper."
Zach leaned back against the seat. "I used to be
his gatekeeper."
"How so?"
"When I was a kid,
slept in motels, in the backs of cars, on the streets. We even slept in a rail
car once. For a while it was a wild adventure. Me and my pop against the world."
He paused. "When my dad made money at the track or whatever game he was
running, I was the one who held on to it, stuffing it in my socks or whatever
hiding place I could find. I didn't realize then that my father was more
dangerous than any thief in an alley. The only person who ever stole from me
was him."
Katherine put a hand on his arm, relieved when he didn't
immediately shake it off. "He was your father, and you were a little boy.
I'm surprised you learned the difference between right and wrong, growing up
the way you did."
"It took time." Zach gazed unseeingly at the
tabletop. "Pop had a big run through
Talked half the town into investing in a business scheme. I was sixteen then
and working part-time at Stanton Farms. When he came to get me after he'd made
his run, I told him I wasn't going with him. He said he wouldn't leave me
behind unless I could make it worth his while."
"By doing what?" Katherine rubbed her
fingers against his arm, wishing she could relieve some of the tension in his
tight body.
Zach hesitated, clearly battling with himself over
something. "He wanted me to take Mrs. Stanton's wedding ring. She had a
habit of leaving it in the barn when she gave her favorite horse a bath. So one
day I saw my opportunity and I took it. I sold her wedding ring for my life. She
cried for a week."
"Oh, Zach."
"Don't feel sorry for me. I was a thief."
"You were a scared teenager. I know that doesn't
excuse what you did, but I am sorry that you had to make a choice like that."
"It wasn't that hard to make." His gaze
burned into hers. "I knew then I wasn't much different from my father."
"There is a world of difference between you."
"A thief is a thief, no matter what the
intentions behind the theft."
"Have you ever thought of telling Mrs. Stanton?"
Zach uttered a cynical laugh. "A million times.
But…"
"But what?"
"About ten years ago, I saved up enough money to
buy Mrs. Stanton a ring to match the one she'd lost. I had one of the grooms
accidentally discover it and return it to her."
"And she was none the wiser?"
"I don't know. She never said. I never asked. But
the last thing I want is for
"That's why you came to the restaurant tonight,"
Katherine said, remembering the earlier byplay between the two men. "He
forced your hand."
"Yes, but I also came to warn you."
"At the risk of him telling the
"Well, I don't know if it would matter anymore.
It was a long time ago."
"Of course it would matter. It was a risk you
took for me. You saved me, Zach."
Zach stared at her for a long minute. "I couldn't
let him play you for a sucker, too."
She shivered at the intensity in his voice, the look
in his eyes. "One might think you actually care what happens to me."
"I know you're desperate to find your father.
Desperation makes for an easy mark."
"Are you sure that it's a lie?" She hated to
ask, but she had to ask.
"Do I have DNA proof that he couldn't be your
father? No. But he's unwilling to take a blood test, which is a sure sign he's
hiding something. It's also my understanding that he had a vasectomy shortly
after my birth."
"Really?" She felt a huge weight slip off
her shoulders.
"He told me so once, something along the lines of
'I'm going to make sure I don't have any more brats like you.'"
"I wish we could be sure."
Zach thought for a minute. "My father has a woman
friend in
Veronica Lacey. She's known him forever, slept with him on and off for probably
thirty years. She's been his confidante in the past. Maybe she could verify the
vasectomy. I have to go to
want to check on him. I can stop in at Veronica's before I come back."
"Can I go with you?"