Gold Fire (31 page)

Direct hit. She worried about what
everyone
thought. She had to.

“You know why I do it. I have to repair my image.”

“Not if you lose yourself doing it.” With a little force, it could have sounded judgmental and mean. It didn’t. He reached out to close his hand over hers, squeezing gently, and his understanding gaze was so supportive her breath caught in her throat. “It’s not
worth it if the person everyone wants you to be isn’t who you really are. If that’s the plan, then screw it.”

She settled into an uncomfortable silence. The problem was, she’d always had a plan. A plan when she rebelled and a plan when she decided to clean up her image. She didn’t know how to act without one, or what to work toward.

Or who she’d be if she wasn’t trying to fit someone else’s ideals. That was the scariest part.

He was right, she’d lost herself.

Chapter
Seventeen

J
ase jerked to attention when he heard the back door of the Rusty Wire open. This late on a Monday night, with the place closed, the footsteps were loud on the wooden boards. Light, fast steps that indicated a shorter stride. A woman.

A thrill of excitement sliced through him, along with the memory of his last late night at the saloon. Scattered clothes, hot bodies pressed together, and Zoe’s dazed look as he laid her on a table and blew her orderly world to pieces. He was still smug with satisfaction over that.

She’d put some major cracks in his world, too. That mental compartment where he put his sexual affairs, neatly separate from the rest of his life, wouldn’t hold Zoe. She’d spilled into his life, occupying his thoughts when she wasn’t occupying his bed. He’d barely thought of anything else since their first hot encounter six nights ago. He tried to keep his mind on other things, but it latched on to her and wouldn’t let go, allowing the most insignificant
details to remind him of her. Details as small as footsteps in his deserted saloon.

It couldn’t be Zoe, though; she didn’t have a key. He worked at getting the smoldering look off his face, looking up with what he hoped was convincing surprise when Jennifer walked into the main room.

Her gaze took in the papers and open laptop covering the table he’d turned into a temporary office. He closed the computer and leaned back in his chair. “Hi. I didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

“I saw your truck. I thought I might be able to help with something.”

“I appreciate it, but there’s nothing to do. The exterminator verified that there are no mice living in the storage room, and probably never were. No accumulated droppings, no signs of chewing, no nests. It’s all paperwork from here out. Although I’ll be asking that reporter from the
Echo
to do another piece explaining the situation.”

“I can do that for you.”

Like she’d taken on just about everything else since they’d been closed. He shook his head, smiling. “Jennifer, I don’t think you even know how to take time off. Maybe I should take you fishing, get you interested in something besides work.”

Her brow creased. “Can’t fish at night.”

Jesus, the woman had a wide streak of serious. He didn’t want to insult her by laughing, so he merely said, “You got me there.”

She scanned the papers and ledgers that covered the table. “What are you doing?”

A logical question, since he hardly ever cracked a book or examined a file related to running the
business. “I’m taking advantage of our downtime to familiarize myself with income and payroll. Taxes, state regulations, all that stuff Russ takes care of.”

“Why? Is he quitting?”

He snorted. “No, but the fact that you asked confirms it’s about time I did this. I own the Rusty Wire, and aside from our net income and hourly wages, I don’t even know the day-to-day details of running the place. So I’m educating myself about our licensing fees, liability coverage, the cost of employee health insurance, all that stuff. Russ handles it, but I should know it, too.”

“Why?” Her brow furrowed slightly. “That’s the manager’s job. You don’t need to bother, to have all those extra hassles in your life.”

Maybe she thought he wanted a life with no responsibilities. If she did, it was his own fault. He’d never shown any other inclination since sinking into the cocoon he’d woven around himself.

“It’s not a bother. I know I stayed out of it all this time, but I can’t do that anymore. Not paying attention nearly allowed the Alpine Sky to steal this place out from under me.”

“How? They can’t make you sell if you don’t want to.”

“No, but they can make it impossible for me to do anything else. They’re two steps ahead of me on priming the city council and the zoning board for a first-class golf course, and it didn’t take them long to bring on the pressure tactics. They were hoping I’d accept their offer, but they were ready if I refused. They intend to win, and I know how single-minded that drive can be. They won’t stop at anything. If I just sit back and watch, I lose.”

“What can you do?”

His mouth twisted with distaste. “I don’t know yet. It will have to be a legal answer, a way to block their plans, and right now I can’t find any avenue they haven’t already anticipated.”

Jennifer absorbed the information, studying him. Her eyes were slitted dark pools he couldn’t read. He’d
never
been able to read her, to follow her thinking; it was no wonder they had no real emotional connection. He hadn’t even felt sympathetic warmth at her tentative advances. He called her a friend, but friendly stranger was more accurate.

She crossed her arms, the picture of stubborn resistance. “I just don’t like to see you doing this. You were so content, and now you’re changing your whole life because of this fight with the Alpine Sky.”

“I don’t have any choice, Jennifer.”

“Yes, you do. Give them what they want. Sell the fifty acres and keep the Rusty Wire. They don’t need it, and you do.”

It was so unexpected, he simply stared.

“It’s the best answer,” she insisted. “You’d have your life back, no problems to deal with. Russ and I can handle the details. You’d be happy.”

He felt off balance, hit with a double punch. The first one, suggesting he sell the land, had only grazed him. He’d never let Matt Flemming turn those fifty pristine acres into a golf course. But the second jab had stunned him like a blow to the head. She wanted him to hand over his problems, to escape back into his bland life. Let her handle everything. And it sounded frighteningly familiar.

Christ, was that what she’d been doing the past nine
years? Encouraging him to let everyone else deal with the problems?

The possibility repelled him, but at the same time he saw how easily it could have happened. She’d always taken on extra work, extra responsibilities. He thought she’d been bored. She could just as easily have been taking his life out of his hands.

And he’d let her.

He couldn’t blame Jennifer for what he’d allowed her to do, but he didn’t have to let it continue. He was a drowning man coming up for air, and he wasn’t going under again.

“I
am
happy, Jennifer. I don’t want to go back to the way I’ve been living for the past nine years. I was stagnating. You must have seen that.”

She gave him her usual inscrutable look. “So?”

“So that’s not living.”

She tilted her head, pursing her lips as she thought it over. “You’ve changed.”

“I suppose I have. About time, wouldn’t you say?”

She gave no indication of having heard him. “It’s because of her.”

Zoe. Shit! He’d stumbled into that jealousy thing again.

It hit him in the gut, the same wrenching twist he felt every time he realized Jennifer wanted him. He’d hoped she’d pick up on his disinterest, but she obviously couldn’t read him any better than he read her. Or else she misunderstood him completely. It made her interest all the more unexpected, and a little creepy.

It had to end.

“I guess Zoe is part of the reason I’ve changed.” If you counted kicking him off his complacent ass with
her persistent sales pitches. He’d have to remember to thank her for that. “I admire her determination and intelligence.” True, although laughably incomplete when counting all the reasons he’d fallen for Zoe Larkin.

“You love her.”

“What? No, I . . .” He hesitated, the automatic denial still on his lips. He wasn’t sure what being in love felt like, but he’d experienced
not being in love
with numerous women, and it wasn’t anything like what he felt for Zoe. What he felt for her had more warmth, more depth, more importance. What lay between like and love?

He finished his reply. “I don’t know.” Then waited to see how she’d take it.

Her reaction was so slow and deliberate that part of him wanted to shake her and say, “I’m not interested in you, there’s someone else, move on.” But he had to let her take it in, adjust, accept that he wasn’t the one for her. He could at least offer a consolation. “You deserve to have someone special in your life, too, Jen. To
be
special to someone. There are probably a dozen guys you’ve turned down this year alone. Give them a chance.”

That distracted her; a small scowl came and went across her face. “I’m not interested in them.” Then, as if his feelings for Zoe had never mattered to her, she stuck her hands in her pockets and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m glad you have someone, Jase. I hope you and Zoe are very happy together.”

He furrowed his forehead over her apparent sincerity. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you around.”

He nearly called her back just to make sure there
was no bitterness in her, no hurt, but hell, he didn’t want to prolong it. Zoe or no Zoe, he and Jennifer were never going to have anything together, and the sooner she accepted it the better. For both of them.

He listened to the back door shut, and the faint sound of her car as she drove away. He should probably feel like shit for rejecting her, but he didn’t. He felt lighter, energized. Telling Jennifer how he felt had made him realize how important Zoe was.

Love? He’d have to take that word out again, roll it around in his mind, see how it felt against his heart. It might be a good fit.

•  •  •

Zoe watched as the deliveryman pushed yet another handcart through her office door, unloading two more boxes in front of Matt and David, who beamed like kids at Christmas. “That’s it,” the guy told them, closing the door as he left.

Eight large boxes covered most of the floor space. “I can’t get to the fax machine,” she said.

“So move a box aside,” David said, as if they didn’t weigh seventy pounds each. He spoke without turning as he applied a box cutter to the cartons behind Matt’s desk. Matt opened the flaps and reached inside as David moved to the next box.

She hadn’t wanted to ask what was in them. They were cutting her out of the loop lately, not involving her in whatever they were planning. But she watched with interest as Matt pulled out plastic-wrapped items of clothing, passing one to David before ripping into another one. She watched him shake out a pair of men’s pants in the Alpine Sky’s official deep blue, examining the logo embroidered on the front pocket. The
double
E
of Everton Equipment took on a silky sheen under the fluorescent lights.

“Subtle, but classy,” he announced with satisfaction.

David opened a box and pulled out golf shoes in blue and white. “Good quality. This stuff is gonna sell like crazy.”

She watched in disbelief as they pulled out more clothing, draping it over boxes to admire it before moving on. Shirts, sweaters, jogging apparel, caps, ladies’ accessories—enough to open a store. Or, more accurately, a pro shop.

For a golf course that didn’t exist.

“Were you looking for a big tax-loss item? You know Jase won’t sell.”

Matt gave her an indulgent smile. “You need to work on your confidence, Zoe.”

It was
his
confidence that sent a chill skidding down her spine. He still expected Jase to change his mind, which meant more problems in store for the Rusty Wire.

David snickered. “If you can’t look ahead, you’ll never get ahead. That’s Ruth Ann’s motto, and she should know about getting ahead.”

She narrowed her eyes and imagined punching him in the nose.

“Mr. Flemming?” The voice came from the phone on Matt’s desk. “Your mother is on line two.”

Matt half turned with an armful of sweatshirts. “Tell her I’ll call her back, Diane.”

“She said it’s an emergency.”

He pressed his lips together and eyed the two large boxes between him and his desk. He lifted a questioning brow at Zoe. “Would you mind hitting two and putting it on speaker?”

She was tempted to say no, but admitted to curiosity about what Ruth Ann had to say. Maybe her search for a new vacation resort location had been successful. Leaning over her desk, she hit the buttons on Matt’s phone.

“Hi, Mom,” Matt said. “Can this wait? I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”

David chuckled as if Matt had said something incredibly clever. The little suck-up.

“No, this can’t wait.” Irritation put a razor’s edge on Ruth Ann’s voice, which was suddenly a lot sharper than Zoe remembered. “Kyle got prickly about his investment. He’s been talking to his lawyer, or somebody, and they’re telling him there’re problems with the ownership. What the hell’s holding up the papers?”

It took Zoe several seconds to connect the name to Kyle Russerman, the pro golfer who’d agreed to invest in the nonexistent golf course. There’d been no time lag for Matt, who froze in place. The mound of sweatshirts in his arms rose and fell visibly with each rapid breath as he edged toward hyperventilation.

“Put him on, I’ll talk to him,” Matt said.

“I’d love to,” Ruth Ann said. “But I can’t. He checked out of our suite an hour ago, bitching about fraud. The tight-assed little fucker.”

Matt paled. David’s color rose in contrast as he drew the same conclusion Zoe had—Ruth Ann had been getting cozy with Kyle Russerman in Aruba. Zoe wasn’t above enjoying Matt’s shock.

“Just fax him the papers on the land purchase, Matt.”

Matt should take her off speaker. She figured it was a measure of his shock that he didn’t think of it.
Behind his rapid blinking, she knew, his mind was racing. “There’s been a delay on this end, Mom. A minor delay in the purchase. Tell me where you put Kyle’s investment. I’ll call the bank and have it refunded to him until we close the deal.”