Protecting Peggy (12 page)

“I know.” Her mouth was urgent and frantic and hot against his neck, his jaw. He felt the tremors that coursed down her body, heard her shuddering breaths.
“You'll leave Prosperino. You won't come back. It doesn't matter.”

“Eventually it will.” Fighting to hold on to control, he gathered her hair in his hand and drew her head back until their eyes met. The desire he saw there made his knees weak. “There's no future for us. I can't promise you any kind of future.”

She reached up, framed his face with her hands while her body molded itself to the lines of his. “When Jay died, I made a future for myself and Samantha. I don't need a man to do that for me. I'm not thinking of tomorrow, Rory,” she said, her voice low and thick. “I'm thinking of right now. You're who I want right now.”

He could have taken her in one greedy gulp. For a brief, blinding instant, he considered falling into the mindless pleasure of her touch and taking what his body ached to have. It was his heart and his mind that held him back.

“This can't happen.” He tightened his hands on her arms, gave her a gentle shake. “Not like this.”

“I…” She stilled against him while a dull flush crept into her cheeks. Her arms slid from around his waist. She took a step back. Then another. “I'm sorry. You made it clear over the past three days that you don't want…” She dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, God, I can't believe I just attacked you.”

“If you think I minded, you're wrong.” He shackled his fingers around her wrists, forced her hands down. “Look at me. Ireland, look at me,” he repeated, then waited for her gaze to meet his. When it did, the mortification in her eyes made his chest tighten.
“Dammit, there's no reason for you to be embarrassed.”

“I think there is.”

“Maybe this will change your mind.” He stepped closer; he couldn't help it. “You're driving me crazy. All I've done for the past three days is think about you. I can barely do my job. Dammit, I can't even
breathe
without wanting you. I've stayed away because I'm not sure I can keep my hands off of you.”

Her lips parted as a glimmer of relief spread over her face. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I thought…you weren't interested.” She closed her eyes, opened them. “This coming from the woman who just tried to jump your bones.”

His mouth curved. He freed one of her wrists, used his fingers to nudge a wave of dark hair from her cheek. “I'm not complaining.”

“No, you're not. You're just saying no.”

“I have reasons.”

Shifting his gaze to the row of rain-streaked windows that looked out onto the front porch, he fought the urge to tell her he was an FBI special agent. The instant she knew he carried a badge, she would turn away. He was sure of that. What he wasn't sure of was Charlie O'Connell. Rory had no proof that the EPA inspector had his own agenda in regard to the contaminated water on Hopechest Ranch. Still, Rory couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that told him there was more going on with O'Connell than met the eye.

For all Rory knew, O'Connell could have been the man who attacked Peggy in the greenhouse. O'Connell
claimed he had been at the reservation checking the site where Springer was drilling the new water well. Rory had checked, and couldn't find anyone who could verify the EPA inspector's alibi. That didn't mean the man was guilty, but it sure as hell didn't put him in the clear, either.

Rory bit back a frustrated curse. He knew if he told Peggy he was FBI, her behavior toward him would change. It was possible O'Connell would sense that change, and wonder about it. He might start thinking that Peggy was hiding a secret or two about the chemist Blake Fallon had hired. Depending on what O'Connell was up to, any suspicions on his part could put Peggy at risk.

The prospect tightened Rory's throat. For now, it was safer for everyone to continue to think he worked for a private company.

Brow furrowed, he caught Peggy's waiting gaze. “There are things about me that I can't tell you. In the long run, they probably don't matter much since I'm leaving Prosperino as soon as my job here is done.”

“I keep reminding myself of that.” She was gazing up at him as if she were looking beyond the surface, to what no one else had seen, even himself. “I know I shouldn't let myself get close to you because you'll leave soon.” She dropped her gaze. “I tell myself that, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. It should, but it doesn't.”

Suddenly, it was important to him that she understand why he couldn't stay. Sliding his hand from her
wrist to curve around her fingers, he settled on the couch, then nudged her down beside him.

“I told you the other night that I don't have a home. I've never had one. My mother died when I was young. My father had no clue how to raise a child, and he didn't bother to find out. He sent me to boarding schools, camps. I did my time at those places, then I walked away without looking back. I'm good at walking away. I've been doing it all my life.”

She nodded. “I figured that out when you told me you can put everything you need into suitcases and toss them into your airplane. You don't like roots.”

“I've got no use for them. You do.” Staring into the fire, he laced his fingers with hers. “You put down deep roots, Ireland. You stay in one place and you make that place a home not only for you and your child, but for any stranger who happens to come your way.” He turned his head, met her gaze. “You need a man who will put down roots right beside yours.”

“Eventually, that's what I want.”

“I've never stayed anywhere for long. I don't know that I can stay anywhere. Or if I even want to try.” He eased out a breath. “I care about you, more than I've ever cared for anyone. I don't want to hurt you. I need you to know up front that there's no future with me. It just isn't in the cards. If something happens between us, I don't want you looking back with regret. I want you to be sure.”

She shoved a hand through her hair. “I thought I was. When I woke up and saw you standing beside the couch, I thought I was sure.”

“You'd had a bad dream. Your face was chalk
white, you were shaking. Vulnerable. You reached for me because I was the nearest safe port in the storm.” He angled his chin. “You told me you don't take intimacy lightly. If you hadn't had the dream, would you have reached for me the way you did?”

“I don't know.” Her dark brows slid together. “I just don't know.”

He nodded. “So, tell me about the dream.”

“It was so real. I could feel the man's fingers clenched in my hair, on the back of my neck.” She shook her head. “What Kade said when he was here a while ago must have brought it on. Everything was so fresh in my mind.”

“Lummus was here?”

“Yes, I called him when Mr. O'Connell didn't come back.”

“Come back?” Rory narrowed his eyes. “His car's parked in the lot. Yours isn't. When I drove up, I thought you were gone.”

“That's right, you weren't here, so you don't know.”

“I don't know what?”

Peggy slid her fingers from his and rose. “This afternoon Mr. O'Connell borrowed my station wagon because his car wouldn't start. He said he'd be gone only an hour, two at the most. That was around four o'clock.”

“You haven't heard from him since?”

“No.”

“Why did he need to borrow your station wagon?”

“He said he had a meeting. An important one in
which he might finally get some answers about what happened to the water on Hopechest Ranch.”

Rory leaned forward. “Did he say who he was meeting with? And where?”

“No, and I didn't ask.” She raised a shoulder. “I called Kade around nine o'clock to get his advice on what to do. He came by and got the information he needed on my station wagon so dispatch can put something on the air tonight. He said if O'Connell doesn't show up by morning, to call him and he'll list him as a missing person and issue an APB on my car.”

“That's good.” Rory rose. “Did you check O'Connell's room to make sure his things are still there?”

She tilted her head. “You're thinking like Kade. We did that while he was here. As far as I can tell, all of Mr. O'Connell's belongings are still here.”

“What about his work papers? Files? Any of that in his room?”

“No. But then, I've never seen any of his work when I've cleaned his room.”

Rory walked to the fireplace, stared into the glowing embers. He thought about Blake having seen O'Connell's car parked at one of the hay sheds on Hopechest Ranch. Another car had been nosed deep in the shadows. A white car.

Rory retrieved his jacket off the wing chair. “I'm going out for a while, see if I can find O'Connell.”

Peggy raised a brow. “Please don't do that just because he has my car. It's late, it's raining and the police are already looking for him.”

Rory shrugged on his jacket, then walked to her.
Because it was undoubtedly unwise to touch her, he kept his arms at his sides. “I'm pretty sure that my putting the brakes on our making love tonight, then telling you to take some time to think things through might be two of the stupidest things I've ever done. If I go upstairs to bed right now, I'm going to lie awake all night, telling myself how big an idiot I am. Trust me, it's better for my mental health to get some fresh air and keep busy for a while.”

Her mouth curved. “I'm pretty sure I'm going to lie awake all night thinking. If it weren't for Samantha, I'd go with you and get some of that fresh air for myself.”

He dipped his head. “Good night, Ireland.”

“Good night.”

He took one last look at her and thought how gorgeous she was, standing there in the fire's wavering glow. Her dark hair was a beautiful mess, her lips slightly parted, her green eyes glistening.

“Idiot,” Rory muttered as he strode toward the door. “You're a flaming idiot, Sinclair.”

R
ory swung by Jake's Tavern to make sure Charlie O'Connell hadn't stopped off for a beer on his way back to Honeywell House. Although Peggy's black station wagon wasn't parked in the gravel lot, Rory checked inside the tavern just to make sure no one had seen O'Connell. No one had.

When Rory climbed back into his car, he turned on the engine before putting a call in to Blake to let him know about the EPA inspector's disappearing act.

“He didn't tell Peggy whom he was meeting?” Blake asked. “Or where?”

“No. All he said was that the meeting would take about an hour. Two at the most. O'Connell was either lying or he got sidetracked somewhere along the way. Peggy called Kade Lummus after O'Connell didn't
show up. Lummus put the car's description on the air.”

“The cops won't find O'Connell if he's having another clandestine meeting at one of my ranch's hay sheds.”

“You're right.”

“I'll put on some clothes and drive out to check the shed where I saw him before,” Blake said. “I'll scope out a couple of other places on the ranch, too. While I'm doing that, why don't you drop by Ruby's to see if anyone has spotted O'Connell?”

Rory arched a brow while the car's engine idled and the wipers slapped rain from the windshield. “Ruby's?”

Blake chuckled. “This is your night to visit the town's hot spots, Sinclair. First Jake's, now Ruby's.”

“Is Ruby's another dive?”

“Bite your tongue. Ruby's is more like the heartbeat of Prosperino. It's a café on Main Street, across from City Hall. It's
the
place where the locals go to exchange news. Some people call that gossip. Here's a tip—Ruby's meat loaf is out of this world.”

“It's a little late for meat loaf.”

“Then try some of Ruby's cherry pie. It's almost as good as Peggy's. Almost, but not quite.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Scowling, Rory clicked off his cell phone. He was trying his damnedest to keep his mind on Charlie O'Connell and off his landlady—who he could be ravishing this very moment if his conscience hadn't gotten in the way.

“Hell.”

By the time Rory turned onto Main Street the rain
fell in sheets, obscuring the café's wide-pane front windows in a watery blur. Only a few cars angled in the parking spots in front. Peggy's station wagon wasn't one of them.

He parked his car, then shouldered open the door against the wind and the rain. As he dashed to the sidewalk, he wondered how many more times he was destined to get wet that night.

Inside the café, the air was ripe with good, rich scents and the clatter of dishes. A long, Formica counter with the requisite stools stretched along one wall. A three-tiered stand holding homemade pies sat on one end of the counter. Tables and chairs of a serviceable metal dotted the yellowed linoleum floor. Booths covered in red vinyl lined two walls.

Rory shoved his fingers through his damp hair while his gaze swept over the smattering of customers. His chin rose when he spotted Michael Longstreet sitting with another man in a booth at the rear of the café.

“Mayor,” Rory said when he reached the booth.

“Sinclair.” Longstreet, clad in a starched white shirt and jeans, returned Rory's handshake, then gestured at his companion, a solidly built man with a linebacker's shoulders. “Joe Colton, meet Rory Sinclair.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Colton.” Rory's first impression of the former U.S. Senator and corporate magnate was one of vitality and health and well-channeled power. “I've heard a lot about you.”

“Call me Joe, and take a load off,” he said, sliding over on the bench seat to make room. The patriarch of the Colton family had a tanned, square-jawed face
softened by kind blue eyes. He wore a thick sweater a shade darker than his eyes, and khaki pants. When he lifted his head, the overhead lights picked up the threads of gray in his dark hair. “You're the chemist working for Blake Fallon, right?”

“That's right.” Rory pulled off his leather jacket, hung it on the back of an empty chair, then slid in beside Joe. “The mayor's making my job a lot easier by loaning me his Bonanza so I can run tests at a lab in San Francisco.”

Michael shrugged, his sun-streaked brown hair skimming his shirt collar. “If you weren't flying her, she'd be on the ground all the time. With all that's going on, I haven't had a chance to think about flying.”

“In case that changes, I'm not planning to take her up tomorrow,” Rory said. “The tests I'm running right now take forty-eight hours for results to come back. I won't need to fly to San Francisco until the day after tomorrow.”

“Fine. The plane's yours for as long as you need it.”

A middle-aged waitress with expansive hips and brown hair teased into a beehive appeared beside the booth. Order pad in one hand, she nodded at Rory. “Get you something, sugar?”

“Coffee.”

Joe leaned in. “Is this your first visit to Ruby's?”

“Yes.”

“You should try her cherry pie.”

Michael smiled. “Joe, he's staying at Peggy's place.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Oh, well, in that case you're probably getting your fill of Peggy's desserts. Nobody can top 'em. Not even Ruby.”

I wouldn't know. Rory eased out a breath. Thinking about the gorgeous, sexy woman he had left—untouched!—at the inn had him rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at the waitress. “I'll pass on dessert. Bring me coffee. Black.”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

He waited to get down to business until the woman settled the steaming cup in front of him, then refilled Joe's and Michael's cups.

“Charlie O'Connell, the EPA inspector, had car trouble earlier today. He borrowed Peggy's station wagon to go to a meeting. He was due back at the inn hours ago, but hasn't made it yet. She hasn't heard from him. Have either of you seen him?”

Joe pursed his lips. “Our paths haven't crossed for a couple of days. How about you, Michael?”

“I haven't seen him today. Where was this meeting?”

“That's one of the problems—no one knows. O'Connell didn't tell Peggy where the meeting was, or who it was with. All he told her was that he had a good chance of getting some answers to what it is that contaminated the water on Hopechest Ranch.”

Michael whistled softly. “We could use those answers. We
need
those answers.”

“That's right,” Joe agreed. “We can't do much about stopping the contamination, and preventing it from happening again, until we find out what the hell got into the water. And how the hell it got there.”

“I know,” Rory said. “I'm hoping to have some answers for you soon.”

Joe raised a hand. “I'm not hammering at you, son. I know getting results from a lab takes time. It's just that all those kids out at Hopechest Ranch haven't had a lot of breaks in their lives. They need one now.”

A dim beeping had Michael pulling the pager off of his belt. His mouth tightened as he read the display. “Great. Just what I need to end the day.”

“Problem?” Joe asked.

“Homer Wentworth wants me to call him.”

Joe ducked his head. “Glad you're the mayor and not me,” he murmured into his coffee.

Michael looked at Rory. “Have you met Homer?”

“No.”

“Lucky you. He's the town's malcontent. A bitter old man who doesn't like Hopechest and what he calls those good-for-nothing-kids who live there. He comes to every city council meeting just to carp over each dollar that's spent.” Michael paused, his mouth curving into a wry grin. “Too bad Suzanne's not here. I'd have her call the old goat.”

“Suzanne?” Rory thought of the woman whom Peggy had said delivered the packet of toxicology reports to the inn. “The same Suzanne who works for Blake at Hopechest?”

“Right, Suzanne Jorgenson,” Michael replied. “She attends all the city council meetings, too. Whenever Homer starts complaining about Hopechest, Suzanne jumps right in the middle of him. It's a pleasure to sit back and watch her duke it out verbally with Homer. The woman packs a punch.”

Rory noted the look of frank admiration that had settled in Michael's eyes when he spoke of Suzanne Jorgenson. Something there, Rory decided. Something that encompassed more than just city business.

“Guess I'll go back to my office and give Homer a call.” The mayor slid out of the booth, clipped his pager back onto his belt. “Wish me luck.”

“You've got it,” Joe said.

Rory rose, shook Michael's hand. “Good luck. And thanks again for the use of your Bonanza.”

“No problem. Good luck with those tests.”

“I'll let you know as soon as I get some answers.”

As the mayor strode away, Rory slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks and shifted his thoughts to Blake Fallon. To the guilt Blake felt over his father trying to kill Joe Colton. To the dread Blake felt at the prospect someone had contaminated the water on Hopechest Ranch as an attempt to revenge what Emmett Fallon had done. Now that he'd met Joe Colton, Rory figured this was a good time to start making up to Blake for his having taken their friendship for granted for so many years.

He met Joe's gaze. “Do you have time for another cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

Rory motioned for the waitress, then slid into the side of the booth Michael had vacated. After their cups were refilled, he said, “Mr. Colton—Joe—I don't just work for Blake, I'm a friend of his, too.”

“That so?”

“Yes. We roomed together in college.” Rory's mouth curved. “Raised a lot of hell together. Over the
past years Blake and I lost touch. That's my fault. I'm not exactly an expert at maintaining ties. I never felt the need to do that. Lately I've started thinking that isn't the best thing a person can do. I plan to keep in touch with Blake from now on.”

“I imagine that will make him happy.”

“I hope so. When I arrived in Prosperino, I didn't know anything about what Blake had been through the past couple of months.”

“You're talking about his dad, right? About Emmett trying to kill me. Twice.”

“Yes.” Rory sipped his coffee. “In college, whenever Blake talked about how you and your wife took him in for foster care, I always got the feeling he thought you walked on water.”

“Blake got a rough deal with Emmett jumping from one marriage to the next. Meredith and I happened to be there when Blake needed a stable home environment. We had the means to give him one, so we did.”

“According to Blake, you did that same thing for a lot of kids.”

Joe smiled. “Once Meredith and I got started, we didn't want to stop.”

“Blake also mentioned that you and Mrs. Colton are paying the medical expenses for everyone who drank contaminated water.”

Joe raised a shoulder. “All those kids, the Hopechest staff are innocent victims. They deserve the best medical care available. It makes Meredith and myself feel good that we can give it to them.”

“I know Blake appreciates all you're doing. And all you've done for him. I also know he's wondering if
someone purposely contaminated the water on Hopechest as an act of revenge against him.”

“Revenge?” Joe's dark brows slid together. “What sort of revenge?”

“Emmett Fallon tried to kill you. He's locked in San Quentin, so no one can get to him. Blake's out in the open at Hopechest. A target, so to speak.”

“Good God.” Joe's eyes widened in dawning dismay. “You think this whole thing is about revenge? That someone's gone after Blake because of what Emmett did to me?”

“I think it's possible. So does Blake.”

“Christ, that never occurred to me.”

“It's a theory at this point. I just don't think we should discount any scenario until we know for sure what contaminated the water and how it got there.”

“I agree.”

Rory didn't want to mention the list of names Blake had compiled of people who would be in a position to benefit if he lost his job at Hopechest. Or those who might be inclined to seek revenge for Emmett Fallon's attempts on the life of Prosperino's favorite citizen.

Rory knew that a lot of Joe Colton's friends and family were on that second list. So far, the background checks the FBI had run on those individuals had come back clear. He couldn't find anyone who'd had chemical or biological training in the past and might know how to contaminate a water well. No former army medics. No one who had worked for a doctor, veterinarian or pharmaceutical company. No one who even looked suspicious.

Rory shifted his gaze back to Joe. “I'm telling you
this because Blake is already dealing with a lot of guilt over what Emmett did to you. If it turns out someone contaminated the water on Hopechest to get back at Blake, and innocent kids have suffered because of that, he'll take on even more guilt. I just thought you should know.”

“I appreciate that.” Joe's mouth tightened. “I'll talk to Blake tomorrow, make sure he understands that I don't hold him accountable for what Emmett did.” His eyes darkened to a cobalt blue. “If it turns out someone used me as an excuse to contaminate that water, they're going to have to deal with me. I'll see to it personally they have hell to pay.”

“It will be a pleasure to watch.”

Joe paused, his gaze assessing. “Seems to me, you're a lot better friend to Blake than you think you are.”

“I could have done better over the years. A lot better.”

“If you're trying to make amends, you've started out on the right track.” Joe glanced at his watch. “It's getting late. I'd better get home to Meredith. And you're probably ready to get back to Honeywell House.”

As they climbed out of the booth, Rory thought about the hours he would spend there, lying in bed, thinking about Peggy. Wanting her.