The Texan's Tennessee Romance (14 page)

Seeing Casey’s truck still parked in her driveway, she wondered if he was still working or if he was waiting for her to return. Maybe both.

Her arms full of packages, she walked toward the cabin. Casey appeared from around the corner, having heard her arrive. Buddy followed at his heels, bounding ahead to welcome Natalie home.

“Need some help?” Casey asked.

Gratefully, she offered one of the bags she’d been juggling. He took that one and another, lightening her load considerably. “Did a little shopping, huh?”

Though she thought it was obvious, she nodded. “A little.”

“Did you have a nice visit with your aunt?”

“I did, thank you. How did the roofing job go?”

Following her into the cabin, he set the bags on the kitchen table. “Good. Kyle showed me how to fix shingles. I managed to hit my thumb with the hammer only once.”

She winced when he showed her the bruised nail. “Ouch. That must have hurt.”

“Let’s just say Buddy might have learned a few new words.”

She smiled and looked down at the dog, who was already settling on his hearth rug. “How did he do today?”

“Great. He just hung around the yard while we worked. Chased a couple of squirrels. Ate some kibble. Made friends with Kyle.”

“You know, I think he’s already gaining weight.”

Casey nodded. “I think you’re right. He’s certainly been eating well the last few days.”

“I placed a ‘found dog’ ad in the local paper. I gave some general information about him, but I think anyone who calls should give us more specific details. You know, just to make sure they’re the real owners.”

“Makes sense.”

She shot him a look to see if he was making fun of her, but she couldn’t read his expression.

Bustling around the kitchen, she put away the groceries she’d purchased. And then she opened another bag, looking at Casey from beneath her lashes as she pulled out a few things she’d picked up at the pet store.

“You’ve been shopping for Buddy,” Casey commented, watching her.

“Just a few things,” she said offhandedly. “The stainless steel bowls will be easier to clean than the plastic margarine tubs. The treats are good for his teeth. They control tartar.”

“And this?” He picked up a brightly colored, hard rubber ball covered with knobs.

“Exercise,” she replied. “The clerk at the pet store said lots of dogs Buddy’s size enjoy playing with these.”

Setting the ball back on the table, Casey said, “I brought a dog brush with me today. Brushed him out during a break this afternoon. Did you notice?”

She was a bit chagrined that she had not. It meant she’d been all too focused on Casey himself. “He looks great,” she said, choosing not to directly answer the question. “Did he like being brushed?”

“He seemed to enjoy it. Except when I snagged a tangle. Even then he only flinched. Never gave me any trouble.”

“Good.”

She filled the new bowls with food and water and set them in the laundry room in place of the plastic tubs.

“So tomorrow you’re putting in the hot tub?” she asked, feeling a sudden urge to fill the quiet with chatter, and busied herself by making tea.

“Yeah, that’s the plan. It’s supposed to be delivered and wired at ten o’clock. Kyle and I will be doing some carpentry work around it. He’s already reinforced that end of the deck in preparation for the tub, but he wants to build a bench there to sit on and to keep towels and robes handy.”

“Will the tub be open all winter?”

“It will be heated and ready, yes. Kyle said it comes with a cover that’s pretty easy to take off and put back on. They have to schedule regular cleanings and chemical treatments. Apparently, it’s a bit of trouble, but if it helps them keep the place rented, I guess it’s worth it. The competition’s pretty brisk. There are a lot of vacation cabins around here, some of them pretty luxurious.”

“I’m sure there are other people like me who prefer a more simple retreat.”

“That’s what keeps your uncle and Kyle in business,” he agreed. “Anyway, you should be able to try the spa yourself by Saturday. Sunday at the latest. You’ll be here through the weekend, won’t you?”

“Yes. Aunt Jewel said the cabin is available for two more weeks, though I’m not sure I’ll be here that long. How about you?” she asked, trying to sound as casual as he had.

“My cabin’s available for another ten days. They have reservations beginning a week from Sunday. They’re having a new metal roof put on this week, which is the only thing left to be done to it.”

She studied his face as he pushed a hand through his hair. “You look a little tired.”

He shrugged. “I must have gone up and down that ladder a couple dozen times today. Roofing’s a hard job, and all we were doing was repair work.”

“I suppose all construction work is physically demanding.”

“No kidding. I’ve found some muscle groups I didn’t know I had. And all of them have been sore at some point during the past couple weeks.” He took a sip of his tea, then added, “I guess it’s a good thing I have a white-collar job. Considering the assorted cuts and bruises I’ve accumulated so far, I could seriously hurt myself if I keep this up much longer.”

He was probably trying to make her smile, but her attention had been captured by his reference to his “white-collar job.” She tried to speak as lightly as he had, “Um, yes, I believe I’ve commented on your accident-proneness.”

“Once or twice. The good thing about living in a condo back in Dallas is that there’s a maintenance crew to deal with the repairs and upkeep.”

She didn’t know if he was just making small talk or deliberately dropping hints about his life back in Dallas in an attempt to open himself to questions. “You live in a condo?” she said, nibbling at the bait.

“Yeah. It’s in a high-rise in downtown Dallas, close to the law firm where I work. You can see why I’ve enjoyed being here in the peace and quiet of the mountains for the past few weeks. It’s a nice change from all the traffic and the crowds and the grind.”

Her fingers felt as though they’d just gone numb. Very carefully, she set her teacup down on the counter. “You’re a…you’re an attorney?”

“Yeah. You didn’t really think I was a professional maintenance man, did you?”

“No. I didn’t think that.”

She clasped her hands in front of her in an attempt to hide the trembling she wouldn’t have wanted to try to explain. “So, you’re on vacation?”

“A leave of absence,” he said with a slight shrug. “I was getting a little too close to burning out after a challenging year, so I took some time off. I suppose I’ll have to get back to my real work soon.”

“You can’t have been out of law school for long.”

“A couple of years. I skipped a couple years of elementary school, took some college classes during high school, earned my bachelor’s degree when I was twenty. All of which got me into my career sooner, but might have led to some of the burnout.”

“I can see why. You must have worked very hard.”

“For some reason it seemed important to rush through everything. Now I’m wondering why I did. I guess it’s that overachiever gene my parents passed down. Dad’s a senior partner in a security firm with his brothers, Mom’s CEO of an accounting firm, my maternal granddad was one of the most prominent prosecuting attorneys in Chicago for many years. Slacking off was not allowed.”

He had some serious connections. That probably explained why he’d been at liberty to take this much time off so early in his career. He would probably be a junior partner by the time he was her age.

How could she tell him why she was no longer employed by her own firm?

She knew there was probably more to his leave of absence than a close brush with burnout. Surely there had been some catalyst that had driven him here. Some reason behind the haunted expressions she had occasionally spotted on his face when he thought she wasn’t looking. But whatever it was, she couldn’t imagine it was as bad as being accused of betraying client confidentiality for monetary gain.

She would bet everything she had left in savings that Casey Walker was a scrupulously ethical attorney. Would he believe her when she said that she had always tried to conduct herself the same way? Or would he be more inclined to remember the old adage about smoke surely indicating fire?

“You look so serious,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “I won’t ask what you’re thinking, but if you want to share, I’m always available to listen.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. With a long, low sigh, she murmured, “I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

“Begin wherever you like. Whatever it is, Natalie, I’d like to help you, if I can. I hate seeing you so sad.”

Very slowly, she lifted her gaze to his face. He was looking at her with such concern that it made her throat ache. She could almost believe that he truly cared about her when he looked at her this way. And that was a dangerous way to think. She’d been hurt too much lately by people she’d thought had cared about her.

Casey lowered his head to brush a kiss over her lips. And then he drew back just far enough to speak, his forehead resting lightly against hers. “I think I should tell you—”

The cell phone clipped to his belt rang loudly, a sharp, intrusive tone that demanded his attention. Both of them jumped, and Buddy lifted his head off the hearth rug, as startled as they were by the sudden disruption of the quiet.

Muttering a curse, Casey glanced at the screen. “It’s my dad. I’ll call him back later—”

“No. Take the call. I’ll see what we have for dinner.”

She all but pushed him into the living room on the pretext of giving him privacy for the call. She needed that distance, needed a few moments to gather herself and come to terms with the things Casey had just told her about himself.

Gripping the kitchen counter, she thought of how ironic it was that Casey’s personal revelation had served only to drive them further apart rather than drawing them closer together.

She sent Casey away a short time later, claiming that she had several phone calls of her own to make. “I haven’t talked to either of my parents in a few days, and I need to call them both,” she said. “My chats with Mom usually last quite a while, and I’m sure you’d be bored.”

Looking as though he would have liked to argue with that, he merely shrugged and allowed himself to be hustled to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said from the open doorway. “Maybe we’ll have more opportunity to talk then.”

“Yes, maybe we will,” she replied lightly, though she wasn’t sure she’d be any more ready to talk about her mortifying situation the next day. “Good night, Casey.”

He caught her chin and brushed a kiss over her lips. “Good night, Natalie. Sleep well.”

Closing the door behind him, she placed a trembling hand on her mouth. Sleep well? She sincerely doubted that she would.

With that little pep talk in mind, she opened the door, then blinked in surprise when she found Rand Beecham there instead of Casey. The attractive-in-a-burly-ex-cop-sort-of-way P.I. gave her his studiedly charming smile and greeted her cheerfully. “Good morning, Ms. Lofton. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“How did you find me?” she asked, surprise making her a little stupid.

He merely laughed. Motioning with the manila envelope he held in one hand, he asked, “May I come in? I have the information you requested.”

“You’ve found out who was responsible for the leaks from the firm?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, no, not conclusively,” he replied, easing past her into the cabin. “I haven’t had a chance to do anything more since we talked yesterday. But you wanted to see an accounting of what I’ve done for you, correct?”

She frowned and closed the door. Seeing a stranger, Buddy abandoned his hearth rug and slunk into the laundry room where his food and water bowls sat. Apparently there was something about Beecham he didn’t like. Natalie completely understood. “You could have e-mailed the report. You’ve wasted a long drive here when you could have been working on my behalf.”

“And as I told you yesterday, I need another advance before I can go any further,” he argued smoothly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to pay me at the end of the job,” he added, his tone a bit too pointed now, “but this is standard operating procedure, Ms. Lofton.”

She held out her hand. “Let me see your report.”

“Absolutely.”

Being an attorney, she knew all about billable hours. She knew how to record them, how to justify them, even how to manipulate them if necessary, though she had always tried to be scrupulous in recording her time. Still, Rand Beecham’s report was a study in creative billing. According to his time records and hourly charges, he had already earned everything she had given him as an advance and more. While she knew that effort did not always equal result, the very short, not particularly informative summary at the end of his report did not satisfy her at all that he’d been worth the investment.

“This tells me nothing I didn’t find out on my own through telephone gossip,” she said in dissatisfaction.

“Oh? Did you know that Cathy Linski has just put a down payment down on a nice West End condo?”

“A condo in West End?” Natalie repeated blankly. “You’re kidding.”

“So you
didn’t
know.”

Brushing off his smug tone, she shook her head. “No. And there’s no way she can afford a place like that. Not on her clerical salary at the firm.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine she’d have made that much with those few leaks that were attributed to me. I mean, sure, it was juicy gossip and the tabloids had a field day with it all—but would they really have paid her enough to finance an entire new lifestyle?”

“Perhaps. Especially if she’s agreed to provide more fodder once the higher-ups in the firm relax. If they’re satisfied that you were behind the leaks, they might consider the matter closed and let their guard down, giving Ms. Linski access to some of the confidential files again.”

There was still something that just didn’t feel right about that scenario, Natalie thought uncomfortably. “Is this the only lead you have? The fact that Cathy is buying a condo?”

“I found that, I can find more,” he assured her. “If her money’s coming from one or more of the tabloids, I’ll find the proof. It’s just going to take a little more time.”

Which meant even more billing hours, she thought with a slight wince. She had managed to put some money into savings after paying off her student loans, but it wouldn’t take long before that was gone if this investigation continued much longer.

“Maybe I should come back to Nashville, follow Cathy around myself, for a while,” she mused aloud. “Maybe I can figure out what’s going on with her.”

“And get yourself slapped with a harassment suit? A restraining order, maybe? Remember, I’m a pro at this. I know how to follow her without her ever suspecting a thing. Give me a few more days, and I’ll have everything you need.”

He kept saying that, and she kept feeling like an idiot for believing him. But what other choice did she have? And besides, he
had
found an interesting lead about Cathy.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh, mentally conceding that she was no private investigator. She’d probably be worse at that than Casey was at maintenance, she thought with a grimace. “I’ll give you another five hundred dollars. But that’s all, until I see more valuable results.”

“Make it a thousand, as an advance against the final payment. I’ll need a little extra for an assistant.”

She swallowed hard and then nodded. “I’ll get my checkbook,” she said, turning toward the bedroom.

“Nice place,” he called after her. “It’s not so bad to have a vacation in a cozy mountain cabin while I take care of business back home for you, is it?”

“I’m not accustomed to anyone taking care of my business for me,” she said as she rejoined him.

“That’s what I do,” he replied with a shrug. “So I’d advise you to enjoy your time here, do a little shopping, some sightseeing, take in a show. If there’s any evidence to be found to clear your name, I’ll find it.”

“If?”
she repeated with a frown, reluctantly handing him the check.

“If it exists, I’ll find it,” he repeated, and something about the way he looked at her as he tucked the check in his pocket made her blood pressure rise.

She didn’t like the implication that there might be no evidence because she wasn’t as innocent as she claimed. But if that were true, why on earth would she waste all this money hiring him to find that evidence? she asked herself in exasperation. More likely, he was just giving himself an out in case he failed.

And if that happened…well, she supposed she’d better be coming up with a Plan B, just in case.