For Love of Charley (8 page)

Cole leaned closer to her. “The architect
tried to keep it as close to the look and feel of an Old West hotel as possible
and still give us a maximum amount of space. When it’s done, it will have
two-hundred rooms, and a convention center. All three floors will have a
balcony running around them.” He turned and pointed behind them. “The view
alone should bring tourists by the droves.”

The hotel was nestled between mountains covered
in pine and spruce, giving it a hidden, cozy feel. But in the front the
mountains dropped away to a breathtaking valley split by a blue river. “I think
eventually we’ll put in a few ski slopes and maybe have a trolley that runs
from Duncan Mills all the way back to Canyon Bend, with stops here and at the
Red Dog.”

Charley was nodding. “That’s a great idea.
You’d not only get the summer tourist, you’d get the winter ones, too. It’s
really going to be beautiful here.”

He took her arm. “Let’s go find Hank
Farrell.”

The foreman was in the trailer office,
poring over a set of plans when they entered. He looked up and smiled, his eyes
almost disappearing in his round face as he stood and shook Charley’s hand.
“Miss Hart. Glad you came by. I was going to drop in on you today, anyway.
We’re going to start on your place as soon as the new parking lot is done, and
I wanted to see if there were any changes in the blueprints you’d like to
make.”

Charley glanced at Cole, and when he nodded
she looked back to Hank. “Well, I was wondering how hard it would be to turn
one of the walls in the main dining room into a big brick fireplace. We could
have an oven to one side of it and bake our own bread, and keep a big iron
kettle going just like the pioneer women did.”

Hank rolled up the plans that were on his
desk and slid another set into place. Soon he and Charley were poring over
them, both totally absorbed in the conversation. Cole leaned against a wall,
arms crossed over his chest as he watched. Construction was the farthest thing
from his mind. He couldn’t take his eyes off Charley, couldn’t stop remembering
the way she’d looked last night in the moonlight, or the way she’d touched him.

The new role she’d assigned him was going
to be much harder than the cool indifference he’d been maintaining so far. At
least he’d been able to keep his hands off her. Now, with the fighting at an
end, he wasn’t sure he could manage it. He was already looking for excuses to
touch her, trying desperately to think up ways to be alone with her. How do you
stop a body, heart and soul that have only been half alive from reaching out to
the one thing that can make them whole? There wasn’t a minute of the day when
he didn’t ache to hold her and tell her he loved her. But he couldn’t. He knew
instinctively that she wasn’t ready to hear it yet, any more than she was ready
to understand why he’d left.

Charley looked up, her gaze brushing his,
then locking. Cole forced himself to relax and smile. Her return smile was
tentative, almost as though she’d read something in his look that made her
uneasy. “Finished?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

Hank straightened. “If you think of
anything else, just call me. We can make changes right up until the actual work
starts.”

Cole held the door as good-byes were exchanged
and they left. When they reached the car, Charley climbed in on the passenger
side. “You know,” she mused, “of all the slides you showed last night, I didn’t
see a model of what the Red Dog will look like when it’s finished.”

Cole glanced at her as he pulled out onto
the highway. “That’s because the Red Dog has always been here. People are used
to seeing it. I wanted to keep them focused on the newer aspects of the
project.”

“But you do have one?”

“Yes. It’s to scale and you can open it out
and see what every room will look like. Would you like to see it?”

“I’d love to.”

He nodded. “It’s at home, in my office. Why
don’t you come by for dinner tonight? I’ll give you the five-dollar tour and
you can see the model at the same time.” Cole could feel her looking at him,
and kept his eyes on the road, trying not to hold his breath as she hesitated.

“Will Kristy be there?”

He almost smiled at her not-so-subtle
attempt to find out if they would be alone. “I don’t know. Kristy tends to do a
pretty good imitation of a ping-pong ball when she’s working. Constantly back
and forth.” He flashed her a grin. “But don’t worry, Mrs. Paulson is cooking so
there’s no chance of food poisoning.”

She relaxed slightly. “Okay. What time?”

“About seven. And don’t dress up. We’ll probably
eat on the patio.” Cole couldn’t stop the surge of elation that washed over
him. Finally, he and Charley would be together in their house, even if it would
only be for a few hours.

Charley stood next to the Blazer in the
fading dusk and stared up at the well-lit house, a knot of tension tightening
her stomach. What had possessed her to agree to come here? A tremor shook its
way down her spine, and she thought about climbing back in the SUV. This was
almost as stupid as telling Cole she wanted to be friends.

She didn’t want to be friends with him. She
wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her like he had in her office. She
wanted to stay in this house with him, in his bed. She wanted to stay here with
him forever. Or, at least until he decided to leave her again. Her hands fisted
so hard the nails dug into her palms, but she was oblivious to the pain.

From where she was standing, she could
clearly see the interior of the house through the glass, and it suddenly
occurred to her that anyone inside could probably see her just as well. Without
doubt they had heard her drive up. She lifted her gaze to the only darkened
window in the house. It was on the top floor, to the right of the main body of
the house. A bedroom? His bedroom?

A movement from inside caught her attention
and she turned her head just in time to see Cole jog down the stairs. He was
barefoot, wearing a pair of washed-out jeans that molded his long legs, showing
the hard line of each muscle. His plain white T-shirt stretched across his
chest and shoulders, and hugged his waist before dipping into the top of his
jeans. His dark hair was tousled as though he’d been running his hand through
it. He looked younger, more at ease, more like the Cole she remembered. A wave
of yearning swept over her, so intense that it almost brought her to her knees,
and she braced her hands against the Blazer. This was her man, her house, and
yet neither of them belonged to her. Nor would they ever. She had to keep
reminding herself of that fact.

Just as she took a deep, shaky breath, Cole
opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. She saw him stop, his
gaze searching her face.

“Would you like to come in?” His voice was
quiet, low and soothing. She’d heard ranchers use the same tone on a horse that
was trying to bolt. A hysterical giggle welled inside her, and it took every
ounce of her strength to keep it from bursting loose. After all, she had been
ready to bolt, and the fact that he still knew her so well after all this time,
could see what she was feeling, terrified her.

But she had laid the ground rules herself,
and she suddenly remembered why. For her own protection. If she could make them
both believe they were nothing but friends, he couldn’t hurt her again.

Unable to speak, she answered his question
with a nod and he stepped back, holding the door open for her. Praying her
wobbly legs would carry her, she moved around the Blazer, keeping her eyes down
as she walked by him and into the house. The door closing softly behind her sounded
preternaturally loud in the stillness emanating from the rest of the house. A
stillness that was abruptly broken by the crash of something metal and an
earsplitting curse.

All at once the world settled back into its
normal place and Charley glanced around at Cole in question.

“Mrs. Paulson.” He explained the noise with
a grin. “She’s still not thrilled with the new kitchen yet, but don’t let her
scare you. She’s a lot more harmless than she sounds.” He held out his hand.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Charley’s hesitation was barely noticeable
as she lifted her hand and felt his fingers close firmly around it. The formal
dining room he led her through contained a huge, square table with a bowl of
white flowers centered in the middle. The chairs, while made alike, had seats
that were covered in a Navaho print, each a different color. Giant clay pots,
hand-painted with desert scenes, stood in two corners of the room, tall stalks
of dried yucca flowers rising from each pot. The only wall that wasn’t solid glass
was covered by a gigantic tapestry that mimicked the pattern on the chairs.

Just as they reached the door leading to
the kitchen, there was another crash, followed by more cursing, the voice raspy
and masculine sounding. Charley took one look and came to a screeching halt,
her free hand clapped over her mouth in surprise.

The tiniest woman she had ever seen was
wielding a broom handle like a sword, and her target was a stack of pots and
pans residing in a cabinet over her head. Several of the shiny cooking utensils
were already strewn around her on the floor.

At their entry, she spun to face them, the
broom swinging wildly as she glared at Cole.

“Are you the bonehead who put my pans up
there?” she growled.

“No, ma’am,” Cole said meekly. “Must have
been the movers.”

Charley stared at him in amazement, unable
to believe he would actually be cowed by the diminutive woman. Not until he
squeezed her hand did she see the amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Is there something you want me to get for
you?”

“A ladder,” the woman practically spit the
words.

“I’ll have one delivered in the morning,”
he promised, dropping Charley’s hand and moving toward the offending pots. He
took them all down and placed them within her reach on the countertop. “Mrs.
Paulson, this is Charley Hart. Charley, this is Mrs. Paulson, the best cook in
the United States.”

Suddenly she was pinned by the steely gray
eyes. “Do you carry a gun?”

Charley gaped at her. “Uh, no ma’am.”

“Then how do you protect yourself from the
wolves at night?”

Enlightenment dawned and Charley had to
work hard to stifle her grin. Especially after she glanced at Cole. He was
almost doubled over with silent laughter.

Charley looked back at Mrs. Paulson.
“Truthfully, there haven’t been any wolves around here in years. The only real
problem we have are the bears.”

The housekeeper’s snow-white hair stood
visibly on end. “Bears!” The word scaled up at the end until it was beyond the
range of human hearing.

“Just black bears,” Charley hastily assured
her. “The small ones.” There was a choking sound from behind Mrs. Paulson and
this time it was Charley who glared at Cole’s red face. “Honest, they’re really
little. And they’re afraid of people. All you have to do is stomp your foot and
yell, and they run. Mostly, they’re after the garbage cans people leave out.”

Mrs. Paulson spun to face Cole, and he
immediately straightened, his face expressionless. “Bears,” she repeated
ominously. “You didn’t tell me about the bears. Where are the garbage cans?”

“In the garage, just like they were yesterday.”

“See to it they stay there,” she snapped.

“Yes, ma’am,” Cole responded, edging around
her. “I’m going to show Charley the rest of the house, now.”

“Make sure all the doors are locked when
you do.”

“Oh, bears can’t—” Charley’s words were cut
off abruptly as Cole grabbed her hand and dragged her from the room. By the
time they made it back through the dining room, his hand was clutched to his
ribs and he was gasping for air.

“Oh, God,” he laughed. “Between you and
Kristy, that poor woman won’t survive her first month here. ‘They’re really
small ones,’” he mimicked her. “Charley, she’s never been out of the inner city
in her life. Can you imagine what she’s going to think if she sees a raccoon?
She’s already trying to talk me into buying her a gun. There’d be raccoon guts
scattered for a mile in every direction.”

Charley was laughing in spite of her
horror. “You aren’t going to buy her one, are you?”

His head tilted to one side. “Do I
look
like I want to wake up full of bullet holes? Believe me, there is no way I’m
buying that woman a gun.”

“Where on Earth did you find her?”

Cole smiled. “I didn’t. She found me.” They
had stopped in the living room. “It was right after Jordan Enterprises sold its
first really big contract. We were installing a security system for a
multimillion dollar conglomerate. The clients were into jogging, so I’d met
them at the park that morning and we talked on the track. By the time we
finished, I was sweating and dirty. I sat down on a park bench to cool off, and
the next thing I knew, this tiny woman was shoving half of a pimento cheese
sandwich in my face and telling me I had to eat it because I was too skinny to
walk, much less run.”

“You always hated pimento cheese,” Charley
laughed.

“I still do,” he grinned at her. “But I ate
it that time. I was afraid if I didn’t she’d force it down my throat. Anyway,
the next thing I knew, she was on my doorstep with all her belongings,
determined to save me from certain starvation.” His smile faded a little.
“Turns out her husband had died six months before that, and her only child, a
son, was killed in a car accident when he was twenty-five. She had no income,
and was so late in her rent that she was being evicted.”

“So you did her a favor and took her in,”
Charley said quietly.

“No,” Cole shook his head. “She did me one.
I was spending so much time working that I really wasn’t taking care of myself.
Not only was I missing most of my meals, I had a beaut of an ulcer and my house
looked like a pigsty. She made me slow down and realize that working myself to
death wasn’t going to solve anything.”

“What needed solving?” As soon as the words
left her lips, Charley wished they hadn’t. It felt too much like prying, too
personal.

He looked down at her, the expression in
his eyes unfathomable. “This is the living room,” he stated needlessly.

Dutifully, Charley turned to look. He
obviously wasn’t going to answer her question.

Even though she’d seen the room from
outside, her gaze swept over it again, taking in details she’d missed before.
It was perfect. Too perfect, she decided. It looked as though someone had taken
a picture from a magazine and transferred it directly to this house. There was
nothing personal, nothing that indicated a real person lived here.

If it were hers, she would add dozens of pillows
and multi-colored throws to give it warmth. Maybe lots of small pictures over
the kiva. Family pictures. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

The tour of the second level was short,
since Cole didn’t want to intrude on Kristy and Mrs. Paulson’s space. He just
pointed out the four bedrooms and the patio. On the third level, Charley
stopped and looked over the balcony. She had to admit, the house was even more
spectacular than she’d ever dreamed possible.

Cole waited until she was done, and then
directed her through another door. “This is the master bedroom.”

Charley stumbled at his words, her
attention focused on the king-sized bed in the center of the room. She wasn’t
having any trouble at all picturing Cole in it, and the image shook her all
over again. With an effort she tore her gaze away and looked at the rest of the
room.

Unlike the southwestern motif that
dominated the rest of the house, this room was entirely Cole’s. Blues
dominated, all the way from a silvery blue to a deep royal. The furniture was
modern, a sleek black headboard with three dark blue leather panels centered on
its sensuous surface graced the massive bed. Scooted up against the footboard
was a matching bench, its square lines complementing the dresser and chest. And
evidence of his occupancy was everywhere, ranging from a set of cuff links on
the dresser to the scent of his aftershave, which lingered in the air. A
picture of his mother with an obviously happy man rested on a table to one
side. Charley picked it up and examined it. “Your mother looks wonderful. City
life must agree with her.”

Cole came and looked over her shoulder.
“Jim agrees with her. I’ve never seen her so happy. If ever two people were
meant to be together, they are.”

“I can see where Kristy gets her looks. Her
father is a handsome man.”

“It’s not only looks, either. Kristy is
just like Jim. Both of them are energetic, outgoing, and stubborn as mules.” He
shrugged. “Maybe it’s because he raised her alone. Her mother died when she
born.”

Charley put the picture back on the table
and turned. “How did you meet them?”

For a second, she thought he wasn’t going
to answer. Then he took a deep breath. “When I left, I didn’t even have enough
money to buy gas for my truck, so I sold it and used the money to get to Los
Angeles. I thought in a city that size it would be easy to get a job. My first
stop was at the employment agency. What I didn’t realize is that you can’t get
a job without an address and phone number.

“I was on my way out of the agency,
wondering what the hell I was going to do, when I literally ran into Jim
McIntire. The next day was Kristy’s fourteenth birthday, and he was loaded down
with packages. They flew everywhere. I helped him pick them up, and then helped
carry them to his office, next door.”

Cole paused. “To this day, I don’t know
what Jim saw in me, but it must have been something. He gave me a job and a
place to live. And more importantly, he gave me a family. He cared about me,
and my background didn’t seem to matter to him at all. With Jim’s help, I started
Jordan Enterprises. It wasn’t long before I paid him back every cent he’d
loaned me, with interest. But everything I am, I owe to him. That’s something
I’ll never be able to pay back.”

Confusion swept over Charley as she stared
up at him. It almost sounded as though his leaving had been a
spur-of-the-moment thing, unplanned. Why else would he have to sell his truck
to get money? The need to finally know the truth hit her hard. “Cole—”

“The model is this way,” he interrupted,
leaving her standing as he started out the door. She had no choice but to
follow him, frustration almost choking her. She was about to try again when he
went through a door and flipped the light on. This, she realized, was the
darkened room she had seen from outside. Not his bedroom, but his office.