Tangled Web (17 page)

Realizing abruptly how shaky she looked, he dropped his hands from either side of her and laced one around her waist. “What happened back then, Hope?” he asked gently, pulling her against him. “Why did your family get thrown off the tenant farm after you and Russell stopped dating?”

Again, misery filled her face. Her arms pressed tightly against her waist, Hope slipped from the warm circle of his arm and stalked further back into the trees. “Russell Morris told a lot of lies about me. He insinuated I was after him because of his money and everyone believed him.”

Her words had the ring of truth. And yet, he knew instinctively, there was still so much she wasn't saying, so much she was afraid to say. Only harsh questions would make her angry enough to forget her inhibitions and speak her mind. “
Were
you interested in him because he was rich?” Chase asked, deliberately letting a lazy, faintly insinuating tone creep into his voice.

Hope whirled to face him and sent him an aggrieved look. “I dated him exactly twice,” she enunciated clearly, pushing the words through her teeth, “because I was very young and very naive and too inexperienced to see through his surface charm. I
couldn't have cared less about whether or not he had money! I went out with him because I thought he
liked
me.”

Looking into her eyes, Chase could believe that. He also recalled what Louise had said about Hope and her schemes. There was something more here that Hope didn't want him to know. “Then you didn't try to extort money from the Morrises?”

Hurt flickered in her eyes. “Is that what my mother told you?” Hope asked. If so, it didn't surprise her.

Ignoring her question, he deftly closed the distance between them. “Is it true?” He knew he had hit on something here, from the tense, wary expression in Hope's eyes.

Her shoulders slumped with defeat. “All I wanted from the Morrises,” Hope began tiredly, running a hand through her hair, “was for them to be fair, to tell the truth, to admit they were wrong about me.” But she knew that would never happen. They had sided with their son, against her, and they always would. Her family had sided against her, too. And Chase might, if he found out the truth. It wasn't a chance she was willing to take. She'd rather he know nothing and resent her for her secrecy than have him find out the truth and despise her for the naive fool she had once been.

Feeling more trapped and desperate than ever, she moved blindly away from him. If they kept this up she'd have a throbbing migraine by morning. “I can't talk about this with you,” she said in an anguished voice. She wouldn't. It was just too painful. He was too important to her.

Having come close to getting at the truth, to getting close to Hope, and then having it all slip away was more than he could bear. Aware he was losing control but helpless to do anything to prevent it, Chase went after her. It took three steps, maybe four, and they were even. Another for him to cut her off. Catching her implacably by the arm, he swung her around to face him. “What are you so afraid of?” The depth of his frustration oozed from every pore.

Trying to steady herself, Hope took a deep breath. “I'm not afraid.”

“The hell you're not!” he retorted, his low voice intense.

The silence drew out between them and their gazes collided, held. She knew he wanted her; she knew she wanted him, and that the passion they felt was dangerous. But as time suspended and
they stood there facing each other in the moonlight, none of that seemed to matter. No matter how firmly she told herself to move, to get away from him now while she still had the chance, she couldn't seem to drop her gaze. Nor could he. “Hope,” Chase said hoarsely.

The next thing she knew he was stepping closer, anchoring an arm around her waist. His head was slanting, lowering, and then the barest second later his mouth was on hers.

She fought him at first, her arms coming up between them, to splay against the rock solidness of his chest and push him away. She didn't want this. She didn't want him. Not when she was still so very angry. But as the seconds ticked out, her hurt and her sense of betrayal began to fade. The passion she felt for him overrode her anger completely. She was entranced by the feel of his warm, smooth lips on hers.

She hadn't known it could be like this, so soft and warm and enticing. So gentle, yet so provocative. He made her feel as though she was something precious, like this was something precious. And it was. And she wanted more of it, wanted more of him. Only she didn't know quite what to do or how to act, or what he wanted from her. But that didn't seem to matter, either. She followed her instinct, opened her lips slightly, and his tongue slid inside her mouth. Gingerly she touched her tongue to his, and felt an answering shiver deep inside her. He tasted of mint and coffee and man.

So this was passion, she thought, stunned, as her arms and legs, indeed her whole body, tightened. The arm he had anchored at her waist pulled her even nearer. She felt the strength of his desire pulsing against her. She felt the same strong yearning pulsing within her. But she wasn't afraid. Not at all. Not this time. And that was such an incredible, awesome relief.

 

I
SHOULDN'T HAVE
done that, Chase thought, hours later when he was lying in his sleeping bag, with his hands folded behind his neck. Joey slumbered peacefully beside him. He shouldn't have kissed her. But he'd been unable to help himself. She'd looked so beautiful and fragile standing there in the moonlight. She'd been so frightened and so much in need of someone to love her. He'd acted on impulse and gotten the surprise of his life. She kissed
like a virgin, tentatively and shyly. And that, combined with her smoldering, come-hither beauty was sexy as hell.

Maybe that was her turn-on, he speculated guiltily. Maybe that was how she drove men insane. Maybe that was how she'd gotten his father to marry her so quickly. God knew it had worked on him against all common sense and familial loyalty.

The really strange thing was that her shyness hadn't felt like a put-on. It had seemed very real to him. So real, in fact, that he'd had a heck of a time stopping with just the one long, soul-shattering kiss. But somehow he had stopped and they'd stepped back from each other.

If she had slapped him, he would've felt better. She hadn't. Instead, she had looked at him as though he was some sort of marauding angel. At that point, he'd had a vision of his father. Edmond wasn't angry exactly, but he wasn't exactly pleased, either.

Chase rolled over on his side, thinking again of how Hope had looked after the kiss, so stunned, as if that had never happened to her before. Certainly she'd been kissed before. She'd been married to his father for ten years, for cripes sake. Surely, Edmond'd—

No, he didn't want to think about that, Chase reprimanded himself grimly. If he did he'd be dreaming about his father all night. Thinking about Hope and Edmond together, even in the most obscure, scientific fashion possible, was just too kinky for Chase's taste. He had to put that out of his mind entirely. He didn't want to know what had happened in his father's bedroom, ever. Even if Hope
had
been there.

He also had to stop agonizing over the kiss if he were ever going to get through the rest of this weekend. So what if Hope had once been married to his father? So what if he'd kissed her once? It wasn't as if she were still married. She was single, a widow. His dad had been gone a year. Hell, being the generous soul he was, his dad would probably want Hope to have a life and maybe even get married again. Just probably not to him, Chase conceded on a weary sigh.

He knew if he and Hope hadn't been previously related by marriage, he would have given in to desire and kissed her long ago. And considering how Hope had responded to him by going all soft and cuddly and weak-kneed, she probably would have kissed him back. And it was just a kiss. One kiss! He had no
reason to feel guilty. He shouldn't let this bother him. So why was he still feeling so torn up, so bad about the whole thing?

Because of his dad? Or because Hope had yet to completely open up to him? He felt, in his heart, she might never do that, no matter how long they were together. He knew if he
did
get together with Hope there would be plenty of talk. And though he might be up to weathering it emotionally, he wasn't sure either Hope or Joey was. Not to mention the fight they'd have to put up with from his mother.

Rosemary was already harassing Hope night and day. If she were to get wind of a possible romance between Hope and himself, there was no telling what she might do. And he knew it wasn't fair to make Hope walk through fire again. She had already done that once, when she married his father. To ask her to do it again by getting involved with him, especially when she now had Joey to consider, too, was uncaring and selfish in the extreme. So what if he'd never felt one-tenth the passion for another woman that he felt for Hope? So what if she kissed like an angel? She was still his father's wife.

He turned on his side, away from the slumbering Joey. Maybe the solution was to simply keep his distance. He'd try not to do anything else rash, like kissing Hope again. Maybe they both just needed time, to think this through, to figure out if letting their relationship take a passionate detour was going to be worth it in the end. Right now it wasn't too late. They both still had time to back out and to leave things as they were. He knew in his heart, everything considered, perhaps that was the best choice of all. Certainly it would be the path of the least resistance.

 

H
OPE
, too, was unable to sleep. Chase's kiss had come out of nowhere, and although she had fantasized about an embrace, having him actually take her into his arms and hold her against him, length to length, had left her speechless and shaking and drained of every ounce of strength. She had wanted him in a way she had never wanted any man, not even Edmond. And that scared her. She didn't like the feeling that her passion for Chase was stronger than her common sense. Tonight that had indeed been the case. Worse, she was scared it could easily happen again. All he would have to do was touch her.

No. She couldn't think about that. Not when there was still so much at stake. Chase knew something was going on between her and Russell. Both curious and concerned, he thought he could help her. She knew he couldn't. And he could never know both she and Edmond had lied to him about the facts surrounding their marriage or that she was still lying to him to this day. She knew how Chase felt about the truth. It was everything to him. Everything.

Having been betrayed by her parents, she knew how much it hurt. She couldn't, knowingly, put Chase through an equally debilitating trauma. Especially when it might not be necessary. After all, she had paid off Russell. She'd given him everything she had. He wasn't happy now with what she'd been able to raise, but he would accept it sooner or later and find someone else to milk for cash. Knowing him, she thought, shuddering, there were probably plenty of other potential victims.

She climbed into her sleeping bag and zipped it to her chin. The ground was rough beneath her, and no matter which way she twisted or turned she couldn't seem to get comfortable. Nor could she seem to sleep. She just kept remembering Chase asking her why she had dated Russell in the first place. Looking back, it seemed so unreal, like it had all happened to another person, in another lifetime. Of course, they had changed. Back then, Russell had been fit and healthy. With his deep blue eyes and charming, very aristocratic, very Southern manner, he had been different from any boy she had ever known and he'd seemed determined to sweep her off her feet.

She sighed, folding her arms behind her head. Maybe it
had
been the money that had drawn her. Maybe Chase was right. If Russell hadn't sent her that first big bouquet of roses or the second or the third, and if he hadn't insisted upon taking her to the most expensive restaurant in town on the first date and treated her like such a queen, she would never have gone dancing with him on the second.

Was it her fault that he had started drinking heavily that night? She didn't want to think so. She knew she hadn't suggested the tequila sunrises or indulged in even a sip of the one he had ordered for her. But she also knew, for fear of making a scene and calling attention to herself, that she hadn't prevailed hard enough to get him to stop drinking once he had started. She hadn't walked out
on him at the first sign of trouble, or insisted she telephone her parents for a ride.

Louise and Henry would only have been furious that Hope inconvenienced them and humiliated their landlord's son. She had decided to handle the situation alone. Stone-cold sober, she had insisted she drive them the fifty-five miles back to the Morris ranch. And that's when the real trouble had started, when she insulted Russell's manhood.

Shuddering, she put the thoughts of that evening aside. It wouldn't help to remember the crash on the lonely country road or what had happened afterward. It wouldn't help to remember the looks on her parents' faces when she had straggled in, bruised and battered, shortly after dawn. Or the days of screaming accusations and raging disbelief that had followed.

She had to concentrate on the present, on getting through this weekend. She wouldn't be able to do that if she continued to hold on to her anger. Or let herself give in to her passion. Yes, Chase had betrayed her in going to see her mother, but he had been trying to help. He had made things worse, but she couldn't continue to fault him for that. His heart had been in the right place.

She had to go on. She had to be civil to him, more than civil. She had to make him think the past didn't matter to her any longer. And she had to make sure he didn't kiss her again.

Hope was already up, frying bacon in the black iron skillet when Chase and Joey emerged from their tent Saturday morning. She had done her best to clean up, washing her face and hands in water they had brought, but she still felt grubby and ill kempt. It didn't matter that she had tied her hair back with a neat ribbon, or put on clean clothes. She wanted her usual morning shower, with plenty of soap and shampoo and water for rinsing.

She also wanted a reprieve from the sexy, indomitable Chase.

“Good morning,” he said in a careful, neutral tone.

He's thinking about the way we kissed, too, Hope realized uncomfortably, working hard to hide a blush. “Morning.” Keeping her eyes on her task, Hope lifted the crisp bacon from the pan and broke eggs into the skillet.

“Biscuits, too?” Joey asked, looking at a square metal pan on the other side of the grill.

“You bet,” Hope told her son cheerfully.

Chase headed for the supply chest, his expression remote. “I'll put some coffee on,” he offered, keeping his back to Hope.

“And I'll make the powdered orange juice,” Joey said, noticing nothing amiss between the two adults.

Thanks mostly to her son's nonstop chattering, breakfast was easy enough. Immediately afterward, they did the dishes and then set off on a nature hike. Chase took the lead, Hope the rear. The conversation was dominated by a barrage of curious questions from her son. Joey listened raptly as Chase pointed out types of flowers and explained to Joey how the forest they were in was different from the rain forests he liked to explore.

“I wish I could go with you, to see a rain forest,” Joey said wistfully, after a while.

Chase grinned and placed his hand on Joey's shoulder. “Tell you what,” he promised warmly. “If you still want to go when you're grown up, I'll take you.”

Joey absorbed that news happily, but for Hope, the conversation just served to remind her how soon Chase would be leaving again. Last night, in a brief moment of passion, she had allowed herself to forget all the things that kept them apart. She'd been drawn into his spell. She couldn't allow herself to make that mistake again. Joey needed a full-time father. Maybe it was corny and unliberated, but she wanted to be married again. She wanted a husband to live with and love. It would have to be someone who wouldn't badger her with questions about the past, or make her feel disloyal to Edmond in the bargain. That just wasn't Chase, she realized sadly.

“Poor kid,” Chase said later that evening, after he and Hope had tucked Joey in. “I think we've worn him out.”

“No wonder, with the hiking this morning and the canoeing this afternoon.” She'd hardly had time to catch her breath, either, which perhaps was also for the best.

Chase got up to pour himself some more coffee from the battered metal pot. “Don't forget our mutual hair washing in a basin this afternoon. He enjoyed that, too.”

So had Hope. Despite her pique with Chase, there had been something very sensual about having Chase rinse her hair after she had washed it. Forcing her mind back to the practical, she commented, “I was surprised you brought shampoo.”

His eyes met hers over the rim of his cup. “I would have dragged it out first thing this morning had it been warm enough.” Instead, baths had been relegated to late afternoon, when it was the warmest, and carried out individually within the privacy of the tents.

Hope had to admit she did feel better now that her hair was clean again. Chase's blond locks weren't too shabby, either. Soft and clean, they gleamed gold in the firelight. “Is that what you do when you're in the rain forest?”

Chase nodded. “Generally, yeah, we get by on hand baths and wash our hair in a basin. At least here we were able to get our
water from a pump. Out there we have to carry it in buckets and sterilize it.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is.”

Hope studied him curiously. “How do you stand it?”

He shrugged noncommittally, his eyes still holding hers. “It's for a good cause.” He paused as if that said it all, then shrugged. “Joey didn't seem to mind the hardship.”

“No, he didn't.” Hope smiled. “In fact, I'm sure he'll remember this trip for the rest of his life.” As will I, she thought. She felt a little sad, for Joey's sake, because such a trip wasn't likely to be repeated anytime soon. Determined to keep her own thoughts from turning maudlin, she put her coffee cup to her lips. The brew had cooled to lukewarm, but she sipped it anyway, to keep her mind off Chase and the possible repeat of last night's kiss.

The awkward silence between them continued. It was only nine-thirty. Neither of them were sleepy enough to head for the tents. With no television or radio, they had nothing else to do but talk. “It's peaceful here,” Chase said.

“Yes.” Hope plucked at the crease on her Liz Claiborne jeans. Although fresh from the laundry this morning, they were now speckled with mud and grass stains. Still, Chase continued to look at her as if she were clad in the most resplendent of evening gowns.

“Nothing like being out under an open sky.”

His attempts to make small talk were turning deliberately comical. Hope shot him a droll look. “Yes,” she agreed.

“But you're not thinking about how nice it is to be here,” he continued, baiting her.

“No?” she asked. No, she was hoping he wouldn't try to kiss her again.

“No,” he drawled, looking very smug. His teasing demeanor was breaking the tension that had built between them all day and intensified sharply once they found themselves alone. “You're still thinking about how tiresome it was to wash up before dinner in that little washbasin in the tent. You're wishing you had a way to shower and watch TV—”

“Now wait a minute,” Hope countered. She wasn't about to be pigeonholed as some citified prima donna. After all, she had done
without a lot of things as a kid and still turned out nicely. “I like the peace and quiet out here.”

He mulled that over. “Well, you've got a point. No one from Barrister's can bother you way out here.”

Nor could Russell. But she didn't want to think about that. Nor did she want Chase asking her anything personal again, so she said, “Tell me more about your research.”

“What's to tell?”

That you're tired of it, she wished fervently, that you don't want to do it anymore, and that you want to stay here in the States and be closer to me and to Joey. “Do you really think you're going to find cures out there?” she asked, managing to keep her tone noncommittal with effort.

He shrugged, promising nothing. “I've only been at it a couple of years but already we've come very close to finding a possible new treatment for arthritis.” He paused reflectively. “It's strange, visiting with people from such different cultures. There's so much that's different, and so much the same. Families are still families. People still love each other and fight and make up.”

As she watched the play of emotions on his face, she sensed he was talking about more than just different cultures here. “Do you regret not patching things up better between you and your dad before he died?”

A flicker of pain moved across his face. Chase nodded. His eyes on hers, he said with that trademark honesty of his, “Yeah, I do. I regret it all the time.” His voice roughened and he shook his head in obvious regret. “Looking back, it all seems so senseless. If I'd only gone to him and talked to him—but I didn't. Instead I avoided him like the plague. In essence, I ruined what could have been the best years of our lives together.”

“Is that why you're spending so much time with Joey?” she asked quietly. “To make it up to Edmond?”

He looked her straight in the eye. “Maybe. In the beginning. I do it now because I'm fond of him.” He gauged her reaction carefully. “Is that okay with you?”

Feeling the conversation had once again turned too intimate for comfort, she got up to pour herself more of his industrial-strength coffee. “Why wouldn't it be okay with me? Unless, of course, you insist that his next camping trip be in the rain forest.”

Chase grinned. “Wimping out on me?”

“You bet.” Hope resumed her seat. “I have no desire whatsoever to be out with the snakes and the scorpions and the tarantulas.”

“There are snakes and scorpions and tarantulas around here, too,” he pointed out knowingly. “I haven't noticed you being bothered by them. Or did I miss you screaming hysterically at some point?”

“Very funny,” Hope said.

Chase merely lifted a brow. Suddenly, she knew he wasn't teasing, that he had seen and ignored what she hadn't even bothered to look for. She looked around nervously, then got up to move restlessly around the campfire. A shiver moved down her spine and she tucked her hand in the pocket of her jeans. She looked back at where she had been sitting. Was that her imagination or was there a spider hanging from a nearby tree?

She took another step and nearly tripped over Chase's outstretched leg. He reached up to catch her. “Hey,” he said softly, his skin warm where it was pressed against hers, “I didn't mean to upset you. You're not in any danger.”

“I know.” That didn't change the fact that this was a natural setting; there
were
crawly things out there. Hope had lived on farms long enough to know that was true. She shuddered again, feeling nervous and on edge. Deciding she was behaving like a fool, she sat down next to Chase, thought she felt something crawling up her back and immediately got back up again.

Chase stood, too. “You really are jumpy tonight.”

She lifted her chin and enunciated plainly, “Not at all.”

He grinned, taunting openly, “Liar.”

She blushed and her eyes still on his, held her ground. Reminded of the previous night's embrace, she felt an answering wave of desire. You're not going to kiss him again, she told herself firmly. You know it wouldn't be wise. But she wanted to kiss him. Very much. It didn't matter he was her stepson.

Suddenly Chase stepped back. “You really hate it out here, don't you?” Chase slid a marshmallow onto the pointed end of a stick. He sat again and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He aimed the stick in the direction of the flames and held it there.

Hope lifted her shoulders expressively. “Hate's a strong word, but yes, you're right, I do despise the lack of facilities.” She met his gaze equably.

“Why?” The end of his marshmallow began to smoke. He lifted it quickly, and turned it so the uncooked edge was down, facing the flames.

Hope reached for a marshmallow, trying not to let unhappy memories get her down. She poked it on the end of her long-handled cooking fork and positioned it a good distance from his. “Maybe because this reminds me of some of the places we lived while I was growing up. Places without central heat or air or even indoor plumbing.”

Chase leaned back against the log behind him and studied Hope. Having met her mother, he realized what a tough time she'd had growing up. It surprised him she had turned out as well adjusted as she had. So many would have become bitter or selfish. She was neither of those things. She was a very loving mother, who was extremely sensitive to her son's needs. And to his, too, if he were honest. Today she had gone out of her way to make sure he felt comfortable around her. He appreciated her willingness to try to get along, and his mingled feelings of respect and gratitude had intensified as the day wore on. Now he found himself almost behaving normally again. Still, there was that edge of tension and unresolved conflict between them, and that edge of passion. He knew it could flare quickly out of control.

“But I suppose I'll have to get used to roughing it for Joey's sake,” Hope continued in a deliberate, conversational tone. She turned her toasting marshmallow so it would brown evenly.

“Joey has liked it, especially the fishing this afternoon.”

“I know.” Hope ruminated softly, sending him a genuinely grateful look. “I haven't seen him this happy in a long time.”

Chase grinned. Unable to resist, he teased, “Macho activity will do that for a guy.”

At the exaggerated authority in his voice, Hope rolled her eyes. “Only a man would consider living without every conceivable luxury having a good time, Chase.” Having lived this way because she had to, she saw no reason to seek it out. Then again, maybe that was precisely the appeal for Chase, Hope thought. He wanted a change of pace from the luxuriant way
he'd
grown up. He wanted simplicity. She wanted comfort.

She went to the supplies and brought back a container of graham crackers and an unopened box of Hershey bars.

Chase watched as she made herself a S'more. Earlier in the day,
she had still looked tense, despite her deliberately buoyant mood. The lines in her face had softened as the hours had passed. Now, with her hair drawn into a beribboned ponytail at the back of her neck, and her face framed in the gentle light of the campfire, she was more beautiful than ever. He felt an ache start deep inside him. It was an ache that had to be quenched, not by activity, but by diversion, he decided firmly.

“Joey's not the only one with a good appetite,” he teased. Moving to sit beside her, he reached for the graham crackers and chocolate. If he were busy eating, he wouldn't be so aware of her. Unfortunately, as he moved, the marshmallow he had so carefully roasted slipped off the end of his stick and landed in the dirt. He swore, roundly. Hope giggled at the distressed expression on his face.

“Don't laugh,” he warned soberly. He slanted her a quelling look, “It might happen to you next.”

“I don't think so,” Hope said loftily.

“Why not?”

“Because I know how to hold on to what I have,” she continued grandly. The playful words were out before she could think. Too late, she realized her bald statement could be construed to include her position and power at Barrister's, her child, or the lovely River Oaks home Edmond had left her. It was true though. She would fight to the last breath to hold on to what was hers.