Scent of Roses (11 page)

She told him how she had gone to see Carson to try to find out if there was a problem with the construction or maybe something else, but he had refused to allow her to bring anyone in to examine the place.

“He was adamant about it,” she said, hoping to goad him in the direction she wanted. “I don't understand it.” She paused. “Of course, there is always the possibility he was just paying me back for having lunch with you.”

She could feel the sudden tension on the line. As a game strategy, she had just scored one big point.

“I'm not sure how I can help, but I'll be up there tomorrow afternoon.” He cleared his throat. “What do you say we have dinner and discuss it?”

Her hand tightened on the phone. Score one for his side. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“I'm not seeing Lisa anymore. I told you that and I meant it.”

“I believe you, but—”

“If you're afraid Carson will object—”

“I don't give a damn about Carson.”

She could almost see him smile. “I like hearing those words. So we're on for supper?”

If it were anyone else, she would agree, but this was Zachary Harcourt. And if they went to The Ranch House again, the gossip would be all over town. “I don't know, I…”

“We'll drive over to Mason. No one will have to know you're out with the town bad boy.”

She found herself smiling. He was certainly that. “All right, we'll have dinner. What time?”

“I'll pick you up at seven.”

She gave him the address to her apartment and hung up the phone, feeling as if she had lost the first skirmish. Still, she was determined to win the war. Tomorrow she would find a way to convince Zach Harcourt to help her uncover the answers to the problems in the house.

Z
ach knocked on her apartment door promptly at seven o'clock. Apparently that was another thing they had in common—they were both punctual people.

In concession to the hundred-degree heat, typical for this time of year, Elizabeth wore an apricot sundress with a slim skirt, wide straps and a wide, matching belt, along with a pair of white, high-heeled, open-toed sandals. As she pulled the brush one more time through her shoulder-length, dark auburn hair, she told herself the extra care she had taken with her appearance had nothing to do with Zachary Harcourt.

“Looks like you're ready,” he said from her doorstep, looking cool and attractive in a short-sleeved pale blue shirt and lightweight tan slacks. His gaze went over her from head to foot, the gold in his eyes heating up in a slightly different way than it had before.

She assessed that look. “Depends on what I'm getting ready for.”

Zach laughed. “Not much more than dinner, I don't imagine.”

Reaching down, she plucked her white leather bag off the coffee table, slung the gold chain over her shoulder and started for the door.

“Nice car,” she said as they reached the end of the sidewalk, admiring the flashy black BMW convertible pulled up at the curb.

“Thought I'd drive this instead of the Jeep, since I'm trying to impress you. Is it working?” He held open the passenger door and she slid into the black leather seat, which was still cool from the air-conditioning.

“I like nice cars, so yes. Especially since you were wise enough to leave the top up.”

“I wanted to impress you, not fry you alive.” Zach closed her door, rounded the car and slid in behind the wheel.

“So how many cars
do
you have?” she asked as the engine roared to life.

“Just two. I've got a Harley, though, and I just bought a thirty-foot sailboat.”

One of her eyebrows arched. “Well, you know what they say—the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys.”

“Ouch.”

They drove along the two-lane highway toward Mason, a slightly bigger farming town thirty miles away. He glanced over at her. “I like the things money can buy, I freely admit it. But I'm not driven to own them like some people are.”

She thought about the money he'd donated to Teen Vision and figured maybe that was true. He could have bought a lot more toys if he had kept the money for himself.

“I like nice things, too,” she agreed, “but not enough to sacrifice my happiness for them.”

For several seconds, he looked her way. “You're talking about your marriage.”

“Brian always wanted the best. Expensive cars, designer clothes. He wanted me to have them, too. He was generous that way, though I think he was mostly motivated by the image he wanted to project.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn't enough for him. It's as simple as that.” She gazed out the window, her mind shifting to the past. “Three years ago, we came up to San Pico for my class reunion. I caught him, as you lawyers would say, in flagrante delicto in the backseat of our car with Lisa Doyle.”

Zach's jaw tightened. “No wonder you freaked out when Carson mentioned her name.”

“I probably shouldn't have told you. But you can see why she isn't my favorite person. Not that it was entirely her fault.”

“Lisa's all for Lisa. She makes no secret about it.”

“But you apparently enjoyed her company.”

“I enjoyed the sex. We used each other. That's about all there was to it.”

All there was to it?
She couldn't imagine using a man for sex, as Lisa apparently had. “So why did you end it?”

“Because I was tired of feeling nothing. I taught myself that, to go through life feeling nothing, letting nothing in. For a while, Lisa was my perfect woman. We saw each other and anyone else we felt like. There were no strings attached. There was also nothing there when I woke up next to her in the morning.”

Elizabeth said nothing more. She liked that he was being so honest, or at least seemed to be. The old Zach would have rattled off some phony line then laughed when she ignored it.

They reached the town of Mason, the county seat of San Pico County. It was just another valley town only bigger, with a Target
and
a Wal-Mart, and a few more restaurants.

Zach pulled into the parking lot of a place called The Captain's Table. According to the sign, the restaurant specialized in seafood, which she had learned never to order in the valley because it was so hot and the fish came from too far away.

They went in and got settled in a nice private booth. For an instant his gaze touched her face and the gold in his dark eyes seemed to glitter. Zach looked away.

“I've never been here, have you?”

She shook her head. “I don't come to Mason very often.” But it looked as if the restaurant had been there a while, the red leather booths a little worn, the carpet a little faded. Still, the red glass candles glowing in the middle of the table gave it a nice kind of old-fashioned intimacy.

They made easy conversation until the waitress finished taking their order, then Zach turned the discussion in the direction she was there for.

“All right, you came out with me tonight so we could talk about the Santiago house. But I have to warn you in advance, I'm not sure I can help.”

Hoping he could, she told him in detail about the eerie night she had spent in the house. “It was really frightening, Zach. The strange noises, the cold, that god-awful heavy rose smell. It got so bad, I almost couldn't breathe. It happened to Maria, too. It scared us both, I can tell you. I can't imagine what could cause those kinds of things to happen.”

“To tell you the truth, neither can I. On the phone you mentioned getting someone out there to look at the place. I gather you think they might find some rational explanation?”

“Surely there is one. I don't believe in ghosts.”

“I don't, either. Except for ghosts from our past, of course. Those always seem to haunt us.”

She cast him a sideways glance. “You aren't talking about that day at Marge's, are you?”

He smiled. “Not really. But as long as it's taken to get you to go out with me, I could be.”

Her lips lightly curved. “This isn't really a date. We're here to talk business.”

“Oh, that's right. For a minute there, I forgot.”

Elizabeth fought a smile then fiddled with the red cloth napkin in her lap. She looked up at him, found him watching her with those unusual golden brown eyes. “Does your past haunt you, Zach?”

He gazed off toward the window, but the red velvet curtains were closed, blocking the last glow of twilight.

“I suppose in a way it does. I lived in the fanciest house in San Pico, but my life was hell. I wasn't welcome there. No matter what my father demanded of my mother and brother, they hated me from the moment they found out I existed. My father couldn't change that. Carson and Constance did everything in their power to make my life miserable, and my father was rarely home to do anything about it.”

“No wonder you got into trouble.” She remembered it well, the trial in the summer after her senior year, the sentence Zachary Harcourt received for vehicular assault and negligent homicide. It had been the talk of the tiny town for weeks.

Zach's mouth edged up and a little shimmer of awareness went through her. God, he had the sexiest mouth.

“I can't really blame what happened on my parents. It was pure stupidity on my part. I guess I wanted my father's attention. But the worse I behaved, the less I saw of him. We didn't get to be friends until I got out of prison. He was there for me then. As far as I'm concerned, none of the rest of it matters.”

“We all make mistakes, I suppose. We just do the best we can.”

“That's what I tell the kids at Teen Vision. We all make mistakes. The trick is to figure out what you're doing wrong and stop doing it. Turn your life in a different direction.”

Their food arrived, prime rib for Elizabeth, lobster for Zach, and they relaxed and enjoyed their meals. Well,
relaxed
wasn't exactly the word. She was too aware of him to actually relax. Instead, she found herself watching him, noticing things about him, the long, tapered fingers, the graceful way he moved, how easily he smiled. She couldn't remember ever being so conscious of a man.

And he was interesting, she discovered, well-read, and a good listener. She was attracted to him even more than she had feared.

Which meant he was trouble, plain and simple.

She didn't want to like Zach Harcourt. She knew too much about his past to trust him. After Brian, she didn't trust any man, not completely.

At least, not enough to let down her guard.

Still, by the end of the evening, she felt easier in his company, a little less tense but no less aware of him. They were on the road, heading back to her apartment by the time she got around to the subject they had left unfinished in the restaurant.

“So what do you think about the house? Will you give me your approval for someone to come in and inspect it?”

“I would if I could. But my brother controls the farm. He has since my father's accident. As the oldest son, Carson was named conservator of the estate in my father's will. He's in charge of the ranch and my father's medical care.”

“So Carson has complete control. You're an attorney. Why didn't you go to court, make him give you some kind of say?”

“Because I don't give a damn about the farm and never have. Carson can shove the place as far as I'm concerned. I do worry about my father, though. My brother and I never seem to see eye to eye on Dad's health care.”

Elizabeth settled deeper into the car seat. Outside the window, rows and rows of cotton rolled by, the white, open bolls of fiber the only thing visible in the darkness.

“I'll tell you what I'll do,” Zach said. “You call someone to come out and look at the house. If Carson finds out, you can tell him I said it was okay.” He grinned, a flash of white as bright as the cotton bolls out in the fields. “Nothing I like better than pissing him off, anyway.”

Elizabeth straightened in her seat, wondering if Carson were right and goading his brother was the reason Zach had been pursuing her. “That's probably not a good idea.”

“Where Carson's concerned, nothing is ever a good idea, but, hey—you want to know what's going on in the house, don't you? Well, this is the way to find out.”

It wasn't exactly on the up-and-up, but then this was Zachary Harcourt talking. He might have changed in some ways but it was obvious he was still a little reckless. She found herself smiling. In a way, she was glad he hadn't changed completely.

He cast her a sideways glance. “What are you smiling about?”

Her cheeks went hot. She hoped he couldn't see them in the darkness inside the car. “Nothing. I was just…I was thinking you were right. I promised to help Maria. And if you're willing to take the blame—hey, that's okay with me.”

He grinned. He did that a lot, she noticed, and it looked really good on him. “That's my girl.”

“First thing Monday, I'll call and make the arrangements.”

“Like I said, it's not that big a deal. Odds are Carson will never have a clue.”

Zach drove through town, rounded the corner onto Cherry Street, and pulled his sporty black convertible up to the curb. He walked her up to the door of her apartment and she wondered if he would expect a good-night kiss.

“Thanks, Zach. I really appreciate what you're doing.”

He tipped his head toward the door. “Aren't you going to invite me in for a drink?”

“I thought you said you didn't drink.”

“I said I don't drink
much.
And never when I'm driving. Besides, I was thinking of a cup of coffee.”

She knew she shouldn't. But it was Friday night and she rarely went out and so far Zach had been a perfect gentleman.

A thought she found oddly annoying.

She doubted Zach would behave this way with Lisa Doyle. Apparently, she didn't have as much sex appeal as Lisa had.

“All right, come on in. I'll make us a pot of decaf. That way we'll be able to sleep.”

Zach's eyes found hers and her breath caught. There was nothing gentlemanly in the hot look he gave her. It was blatantly sexual, almost scorching. Sleep, it said, was the last thing on his mind.

Her stomach contracted. Now that they were there in her apartment, their business concluded, his manner seemed to have changed.

She swallowed. As she thought back over the evening, she had noticed that same look several times, but his gaze had quickly been shuttered and she figured she had imagined it.

“Decaf sounds good,” he said, his eyes still on her face.