Sweet Child of Mine (10 page)

To take the heat off the boy, Suzanne spoke up. “Mr. Longstreet and I will have to wait on the honeymoon.” She started to bring up Bobby, but decided that she’d surprised everyone enough for one day. “He’s needed until we’re sure Prosperino’s safe, and I have to make sure you guys stay in line, don’t I?”

One breathy girl’s voice intervened. “I’d blow us off in a heartbeat, Ms. Jor—Longstreet. The mayor’s a babe.”

Laughter and feminine nods greeted the statement. Suzanne wanted to slough off the statement. The last thing she needed was to think of Michael’s physical appeal. But if this marriage were real, she’d be agreeing with the girl wholeheartedly, so she stayed in
character. “He is a babe, Lisa, I can’t disagree. But duty calls both of us.”

“So will he come with you to visit us more often?” Joetta asked eagerly. “I think he’s the ench.”

Suzanne had to smile at that. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that, Joetta. He’s got a lot on his mind, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay, gang,” Blake intervened. “Time to load up. Suzanne, you don’t need to come with us. I think we have enough cars to carry everyone. I’m sure the
ench
would like to have you back as soon as possible.” Over the heads of several kids, he winked again, and she knew Michael would be hearing about this even if she never told him.

She stuck out her tongue. “Michael’s checking in at city hall. He knows I have a job to do.” She turned to Joetta. “Would some of you girls like to ride with me?”

A clamor of voices erupted around her, and Suzanne took welcome refuge in the details of the job that, until yesterday, had been all-consuming.

Michael drove toward Suzanne’s apartment hours later, but his mind was not on the help he hoped to offer her with her belongings. His last conversation with the FBI was very much center stage.

The agent had been reticent with real information, but he had told Michael that they were closing in on the source of the contamination at Hopechest Ranch.
Michael wished Rory Sinclair hadn’t gone to D.C. to close up his apartment; Sinclair, as a friend of Blake’s, would shoot straight with him. Reading between the lines, however, Michael had the distinct impression that the contamination was no accident.

Who would want to poison a ranch full of kids, even troubled kids? Even Homer Wentworth, crabby and disapproving of the Hopechest project as he was, would not do something like that. It was inconceivable that anyone he knew in Prosperino would do such a heinous thing. The world outside might have gotten ugly and edgy, but one beauty of Prosperino had always been its sense of community.

But if no one here had done it, that meant some outside interest intended harm to the ranch.

And maybe to the town, because the same aquifer supplied both town and ranch. From what Michael could gather from talking to an EPA hydrologist, the aquifer ran through limestone and narrowed in many places between the ranch and town so that flow was slow, but eventually whatever had contaminated the ranch well would hit the water supply of Prosperino.

The scientists couldn’t speculate with any degree of certainty how soon the town supply could be hit, nor could they predict how much it would be diluted. And no one knew yet how to clean it up, though Joe Colton had spared no expense to bring in experts from around the world.

So for the time being, all that could be done was
to monitor all the wells between the ranch and the town—and wait. And try to keep the citizens calm, which was Michael’s job.

Lucky for him, nothing serious had happened while he was stuck in Tahoe overnight. But he would keep himself on a short leash from here on out, no matter how that battled with the need to put together some sort of truce with Suzanne, in addition to all the adjustments that would need to be made for her son.

How he would fit into all this the party his parents were determined to throw later this week to celebrate his marriage, he didn’t know. He’d tried to talk them out of it, citing the water emergency, but they’d pointed out that they could easily afford bottled water for everyone and would have the food flown in from San Francisco, if need be.

He could counter those arguments and would have, had he not seen the light of hope in his father’s eyes. John Longstreet had stood straighter than Michael had seen him in a while, albeit with great effort. He’d held out his hand, the shimmer of moisture in his eyes, and he’d asked Michael’s forgiveness for denying him approval of his marriage to Elaine.

While silent tears rolled down his wife’s cheeks, Michael’s dad had promised to support his marriage to Suzanne fully and to defend the suddenness of it to any and all comers.

The man who’d squeezed Michael’s hand tightly had resembled the father Michael had once known, a
vibrant man he’d missed for a very long time. It was as if years had rolled off John Longstreet’s shoulders, and Michael could not deny them their party, no matter that the timing couldn’t be worse for him.

He pulled into the empty parking space below Suzanne’s garage apartment. Pocketing the keys to his Explorer, he took the stairs two at a time while he tried to compose an argument that really only made sense if you cared about his parents, which Suzanne had no reason to do. One more in a line of delicate negotiations that made up this oddball arrangement of theirs.

“Come in,” her voice rang out at his knock.

Michael pushed open the door and almost fell over a jungle of potted plants.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect you.” Suzanne glanced up at him, then turned away to the box she was packing.

An odd relief swept through him at the realization that she was packing as though she meant to stay for some time. He’d half expected to arrive and find that she’d only packed for one night, after all the rough edges between them.

He slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I thought you might need a hand.” Glancing around, he couldn’t help smiling. “You got a moving van reserved?”

“I guess I hadn’t realized how many—” She gestured around her. “My plants need daily care.”

He hadn’t understood how much the homey feel he’d registered before had been due to the sheer number of plants she’d managed to load into this apartment. “All these were in the living room?”

Bright spots flared in her cheeks. “No, my bedroom had quite a few, along with the kitchen.” Her eyes were laughing as she looked up. “I’m sorry to tell you that this still isn’t all of them. I guess I could get rid—”

“No,” he interrupted. “We’ll find room for all of them.” He glanced around dubiously. “Somewhere.”

Suzanne laughed the husky laughter of days when things between them weren’t so strained. “Good thing it’s a big house, huh?”

He grinned back. “Might have to add on.”

Her smile faded, as did his. They both knew she’d be gone long before any room could be added.

“Well…” She brushed her hands on the jeans into which she’d changed. “I guess you have everything a kitchen needs.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got the basics. If you need something from yours, maybe it could wait until the next trip.” He looked around them again. “I think we’ve got two vehicles full here, easy.”

“Michael, I—” She rubbed her hands over well-worn denim again, drawing Michael’s attention back to her legs. “Are you absolutely sure—”

He jerked his gaze away from her slender thighs and a lovely curve of hip. “If your day’s been like
mine, there’s not a soul in this town who doesn’t know what we did. I think it’s a little late to take it back, don’t you?”

She gave him a wry smile. “It’s also too early to be saying ‘April Fool,’ I guess.” Then she grinned. “The girls at the ranch were impressed. It’s the consensus that you’re the ench.”

He frowned. “The what?”

Suzanne laughed then, free and easy, and he itched to press his mouth to her throat. But even more than he wanted to do that, he wanted to hear her keep laughing. There was hope for them in that laugh. Hope they would make it through this in one piece.

“The ench. The big enchilada. In teenspeak, it means the girls think you’re a hunk. My stock has risen with them, catching Mr. Mayor the Hunk.”

Michael would have bet his last dollar he’d lost the ability to blush by the age of ten, but he didn’t need a mirror to know that his cheeks were red. “Well, I guess that’s better than Homer Wentworth asking me what kind of black magic you’re practicing, to make me do something so ‘goldarn foolish.’”

Faint hurt crossed her features, quickly smothered.

He stepped over two large pots to get near her. “I told him if he wasn’t such a blind fool, he’d see that you were the foolish one, taking up with a scumbag lawyer like he’s always calling me.”

Amusement chased away hurt in her eyes. “That was nice of you.”

“He’s a pathetic, embittered old man.” He itched to touch her, to soothe her. But he didn’t dare. “Ruby says I’d better treat you right so when you come to your senses, you won’t run away. And Harmon Atkin says if he’d have known you were that easy to please, he’d have offered himself months ago.” Harmon was seventy-five if he was a day.

Suzanne chuckled. “Did you get the sort of speculative looks I’ve been dodging all day? Those cat-in-cream kind of looks that mean they really want to ask if the sex was that hot?”

He rocked back on his heels, glad to see her easy demeanor again. “Only about a hundred of them. I just smile a lot, so it’ll drive them crazy wanting details.”

“You’re bad.” Her voice went husky again, straight to his groin.

“Just giving the folks what they expect,” he murmured. He leaned toward her just a fraction, tempted unbearably to kiss those lips that drove him crazy.

Her eyes went wide and for a moment, she stood very still as if she’d welcome it.

Then suddenly she turned away. “Uh, I—I guess I’d better finish packing.” With rapid strides, she headed for the bedroom.

He stood in the middle of her tiny living room and sucked in a very deep breath, reminding himself of everything that stood between them and all the dangerous ground they still had to negotiate. They could
do it as friends, but becoming lovers would only make a hash of things.

“You’re off the hook for seeing my parents tonight or tomorrow, but there’s a catch.”

“What is it?”

“They want to give us a party Friday night,” he called out. Thinking about his parents would cool his blood if anything could.

She shot out of the doorway, her face draining of all color. “A party?”

“A substitute for a wedding reception. They’d like to introduce you to their friends and vice versa. They’re talking catering it from San Francisco and inviting friends from all over.”

The minute he said it, he knew it was a mistake.

“That would cost a fortune.”

“Suzanne,” he said tiredly. “It’s their money. They want to make you feel welcome.”

“I don’t need a party.”

“You don’t have to need it. They do. A lot.”

Her jaw jutted mutinously. “But I can’t—”

Suddenly he saw the fear behind the resistance. “Don’t be afraid. It’ll be fun. I swear they don’t bite. They—” This was hard for him to talk about. “They never met Elaine. They’ve never forgiven themselves for the way it turned out. If you could find it in your heart to accept this gesture, it would mean the world to them.” He paused for a moment. “It would be a kindness to me, Suzanne.”

She glanced down at the sweater gripped in her white-knuckled fingers. “I’m not trying to be a problem. I just—” She lifted her head proudly, swallowing visibly. “I’ve never been around people like them, Michael.”

“People like what?”

“Rich people. Society people. The only time was when the parents of Bobby’s father called me to their home and offered me money to go away and not ruin his life.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t know how to live in that world. I’d embarrass you.”

He was deeply touched by her admission and what making it had no doubt cost her. He covered the distance between them and took her hands in his. “You couldn’t embarrass me, Suzanne. You’re a bright and lovely woman with enormous compassion and a dignity that comes from the bone. I would be proud to have you by my side at that party, and if it would help, I won’t leave you the entire night.” He met her gaze squarely. “I’m not making this up, I promise. You would be doing me a big favor to agree to this. I’ll make it as easy on you as I can, and I promise you my parents will go out of their way, too. This means a lot to them. I’ll figure out some explanation if you really can’t bring yourself to do it, but I’d be very grateful if you would.”

When she didn’t answer, he upped the ante. “I’ll take you to see Bobby tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Her eyes narrowed. He could almost see her back
arch. “I don’t need bribing, Michael. And I can take myself to see my son.” The insult to her sensibilities almost banished the fear. Almost.

It was funny to him that this same woman who would take on huge government bureaucracies and fight like a wildcat for the kids under her care would be so unnerved by a simple party. Still, he meant what he said. If she really couldn’t bring herself to do it, he’d figure out some way to explain it to his parents.

She stared off past his shoulder for a long moment. Then, as if emerging from a dream state, she drew in a long, deep breath and met his gaze squarely. Nerves still danced in her eyes, but courage was there, too. “All right,” she answered. “You’re doing so much for Bobby. It would be churlish of me to refuse.”

If Michael felt a small disappointment that he would never know now if she would have done it but for a sense of debt, he dismissed it. It would be foolish in the extreme to hope that she would go to the party for any other reason than their very practical, very cut-and-dried business arrangement. Tit for tat, that was all this was. All he could expect.

All he wanted.

But the courage she’d shown in face of her terror still moved him. He tapped one finger lightly on her nose. “I swear I’ll stay with you until you feel at ease.”

Something of the saucy Suzanne flared back. “Then you’d better wear comfortable shoes, Michael
Longstreet. You’re going to be standing by me all night.”