A MAN TO TRUST Read online

  "There's one thing I do know," she said as Cruz, apparently embarrassed by his own outburst, pushed himself away from the wall and turned to leave the room.

  He looked back at her, waiting, silent, and she smothered a qualm at the weary look in his eyes. She wondered how often he had to fight this battle. And that he'd had to fight it with her upset her in a way she didn't care to look at just yet.

  "Ryan is lucky to have you as a friend," she said quietly. He let out a long breath but still didn't speak. "I'd better go," she said.

  He shook his head. "Let's go sit for a minute."

  She hesitated, but when he gestured her into the hallway and turned out the den light, she went. And when they got to the living room and he indicated a chair, she sat, not quite sure why she wasn't heading for the door.

  Cruz flipped a switch, and a pair of small track lights up above came on. She saw then that the room was furnished with matching oak tables that suited Cruz and designer-type chairs that didn't, and guessed that the choices were a legacy from his marriage. She suppressed a shiver at her stupid blurting out of that question about his wife. But she'd expected they would be divorced, not that she'd died. Poor Sam, to have lost her mother so young. She had lost her own even earlier, had barely had any memories of her, so she knew how hard it could be. If it hadn't been for Cecelia…

  "I'm really sorry I disturbed Samantha," she said hastily, diverting herself from the old memories. "But I'm glad I got to meet her. She's an adorable child."

  "Yes, she is." He grimaced. "I try not to think of what it's going to be like when she's a teenager."

  Encouraged by his gracious acceptance, albeit tacit, of her apology, Kelsey went on. "Teenage girls," she said, nodding. "They can be … difficult. It's a tough time. They can so easily get in trouble. Like Melissa. I would never have gotten so upset if I wasn't so worried about her."

  Cruz ran a hand over his hair, shoving it back from his forehead, where it had fallen in a thick fringe she'd been itching to push back herself, just to see if it was as thick and silky as it looked. His mouth twisted, and he let out a compressed sigh.

  "I'm sorry if me being there scared her into running away again," he said.

  Kelsey was surprised by his words and more surprised by her own sudden turnaround as she spoke impulsively. "You couldn't have known. And it was my fault. I usually made sure she had warning enough to get out of sight."

  He gave her a level look. "And if we hadn't been talking about Ryan being a cop, which set her off, you would have … what? Stuck to that lie about her being your cousin?"

  Kelsey stiffened automatically, but there was nothing of accusation in his tone, only what sounded like mild curiosity.

  "I don't know," she said, sagging wearily back in a chair that had obviously been chosen for looks rather than comfort.

  "You know, if you'd just said she was your cousin in the first place, and not tried to hide her at all, I probably wouldn't have thought a thing about it."

  "I realized that later. After I … panicked."

  "You mean you just thought 'cop' and panicked?" She gave him a sideways look, but didn't answer. He shrugged. "I guess it's sort of a moot point now, isn't it?"

  "Until I find her," Kelsey said determinedly. Cruz sighed again, and Kelsey felt a start of guilt at having disrupted his night.

  "Do you have any idea where she might have gone?" he asked.

  "I had a couple," she answered wearily, "but I ran through them on Sunday. Today I started looking in town, and I have a couple more places I haven't—"

  She broke off and went suddenly still, realizing for the first time just how much she'd admitted to him. To a cop. God, she must be tired; she had actually stopped thinking of him that way for a moment. It must have been the sight of him with Sam, she thought. He'd seemed so … human, then, just a father with his daughter.

  Just?

  The irony of her own thought swept over her; a father as loving as Cruz obviously was, was something far outside her own experience. And she'd let the seductiveness of the picture they presented lull her into betraying far too much. If word got out that she was even talking to a cop, it could destroy everything she'd tried to do, to build.

  "Whatever happened to you to make you distrust the police so much?" Cruz asked abruptly.

  She wasn't about to get into that, no matter how much his perceptiveness startled her. "It's not that I distrust cops," she began, then faltered, knowing that to a certain extent it was a lie. And realizing she really didn't like lying to this man.

  "Then it's me specifically you don't trust?"

  "No! I was just afraid you'd expect me to turn her in."

  "I didn't say I wouldn't. It seems obvious that there's more to this than a simple case of a runaway kid. There has to be, because there's so little we can do with juveniles anymore."

  It was obvious who the "we" he was referring to were. "Just throw them in jail?" she suggested.

  To her surprise, he didn't react to her edgy words. "Not for long," he said. "We can only hold them for a few hours. If their parents can get there, fine. If not … they walk."

  "And when the parents are the problem?"

  "Look, every family has problems, but that's not for the police to get—"

  "God, do they teach cops that line in the police academy? 'We can't get involved in family problems'?"

  "We can't," Cruz said.

  "You mean until it's too late and somebody's been beaten up, molested or killed? Then you can get involved, but it's too damned late for the innocent victim, isn't it?"

  It was an old refrain for her, and she was too tired to put much heat into it. Cruz seemed to sense that, because he answered in the same weary tone.

  "You may not believe this, but it's as frustrating for us as anyone," he said. "But this isn't the time to discuss the limitations and dire straits of modern law enforcement. It's after midnight. Let's discuss it all in the morning."

  Kelsey blinked.

  "The sofa in the den folds out into a decent bed, if you can stand the company of all the critters."

  The thought of just curling up and going to sleep right now was so alluring that Kelsey couldn't stop the look of longing that crossed her face. But still she eyed Cruz warily, uncertain whether she should accept his invitation. Uncertain whether she wanted to subject herself to trying to sleep under the same roof with him, in his home, which somehow seemed incredibly more intimate than when he'd been a paying guest under her roof. And she already had enough trouble fighting off constant thoughts of him.

  As if he'd read her doubts, he grinned suddenly, stopping her breath short in her throat.

  "You'll be more than safe, Ms. Hall, if you sleep in the den." He grimaced eloquently. "That snake will keep me from coming anywhere near you, trust me."

  Kelsey couldn't help smiling at his fierce distaste; snakes had never really bothered her, and the idea of the big, brave cop being intimidated struck her as amusing. She liked even more the fact that he wasn't too macho to admit to his aversion.

  And she hushed the small part of her that wished she was the kind of woman a man would brave even his worst nightmare for. She knew she wasn't, especially for a man like Cruz, who could no doubt pick and choose, from his widowed neighbor to just about anybody else who might interest him.

  So there was no need to worry about it, and staying would be better than driving back to the inn, or trying to find a place in town to stay this late, she supposed. And if she did stay, she could get an early start looking for Melissa in the morning. She intended to start checking the popular local beaches next; it was warm at night there, easy to stay lost amid the crowds during the day, crowds that always left behind uneaten food. And the teenager had more than once mentioned that someday she meant to live at the beach.

  It made sense. And maybe, she thought with wry self-knowledge, a night of telling herself what a fool she was for letting her thoughts dwell on a man who was impossible for so many reasons might dri
ve the lesson home.

  "Thank you," she said, before she could change her mind. "I could use the rest."

  "I'll get you a blanket" was all he said, as if he invited women to stay all the time. As, she thought dryly, perhaps he did.

  But somehow she doubted they slept in the den. And the thought of those women, whoever they might be, sleeping curled up in the safety of Cruz's arms gave her a pang she couldn't quite smother.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

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  He'd done stupider things in his life, Cruz supposed, but right now he couldn't quite remember when. He'd spent the night alternately dozing and jerking awake, most of the time not sure which was worse, lying awake trying not to think of the woman down the hall, or sleeping and having the thoughts run loose in ways that had him groaning aloud.

  No, I'm just the girl next door.

  Kelsey's words, tinged with that undeniably sour note, came back to him now, in the gray light of dawn.

  Girl next door? Not in his life. He'd grown up next to Coreen Carter, a viper-tongued brunette who had never missed a chance to remind him, as if he could or wanted to forget, that he was half-Mexican. When he had, on a whim, gone home to Santa Rosa for his ten-year high school reunion, he'd been stunned to realize that the predatory bottle blonde who had her hands all over him was the infamous Coreen, who had apparently gotten over her distaste for his heritage.

  He'd looked her up and down, gauging the figure that he remembered as being much rounder on the bottom and not nearly so round on the top, muttered something about preferring the original equipment, and walked away. It hadn't been kind, he knew, but he hadn't been feeling benevolent enough to pass up the jab. Her quick return to the vituperative Coreen he remembered had only made him glad he hadn't.

  No, Kelsey was not the girl next door he'd known. Not in any way. Whatever else she was, Cruz could not doubt that she was real to the core. And he had to admit her soft curves and vivid, clearly natural coloring were far more appealing to him than Coreen Carter had ever been, brunette or blonde, original or replacement parts.

  And he didn't know what to do about it. Didn't know if he wanted to do anything about it.

  Worse, yet, he didn't know if he could stop himself from doing something about it. Nor did he know why. He'd been aware of her before, maybe even interested, but all of a sudden he was so hot for her that he couldn't stop thinking about her. What had changed? Was he simply ready now, when he hadn't been before? Or was it that he hadn't really known her before?

  With a sigh, he rolled over and made another futile attempt to pound his pillow into submission. When he dozed off again, it was to drift into a dream of the pond at Oak Tree, only this time Kelsey had more bare than just her long, curved legs. And this time the jolt when he came sharply awake was more than just groan-inducing, it was downright painful. The only bright side he could see was that it was genuinely morning now, and he could give up this farce and get up. A shower would wake him up completely, he thought, rubbing at gritty eyes.

  And he told himself that waking up was the only reason he made it colder than usual. Much colder.

  He felt almost in control by the time he tugged on a pair of faded blue jeans and a black Willie Nelson T-shirt Sam had picked out for him because it had a horse on it. In fact, he felt almost good as he walked out of his room. Sam's door was open, and the sound of voices from the den told him where—inevitably—she was.

  Soft voices, he thought as he walked down the hall. Feminine voices. He stopped for a moment, listening. Not to eavesdrop—he wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying—but simply to listen to the unaccustomed sound. He smiled when Sam giggled; it was one of his favorite sounds. Then he heard an echoing laugh, one that had an entirely different effect on him.

  So much for a cold shower's lasting effects, he thought wryly.

  He walked on then, trusting Sam's presence to keep his suddenly awakened libido in line. He reached the doorway to the den and looked in, smiling when he saw both of them sitting cross-legged on the floor, heads bent over something Kelsey was holding.

  The smile froze on his face, his libidinous thoughts vanished and his pulse kicked into instinctive overdrive when he saw just what it was they were so intent on. When he saw the long black-and-white-striped shape curled with apparent contentment around a very unperturbed Kelsey's arm.

  All the old horror kicked through him in a rush, and it took every bit of his restraint to keep from shouting furiously at Sam for this violation of the single prime rule that allowed her to keep Slither in the house.

  "Sam."

  Despite his efforts, it came out biting. He saw her go still, then turn a guilty face to him.

  "Uh-oh," the child said. "Busted."

  Kelsey looked over her shoulder at him, her expression amused rather than fearful. Until she saw his face. He knew what he must look like, from the way the amusement drained away. Kelsey looked quickly at Sam, who sighed and reached for the snake.

  "It's the big rule," she explained. "Slither can only stay in the house as long as he's never out of his cage."

  The reptile moved, sliding from Kelsey's arm to Sam's with apparent willingness, its tongue flicking in and out rapidly. Cruz fought down his revulsion at the sight of the snake and his little girl, knowing that if he had his way the damn thing would be dead within the minute—harmless, even helpful king snake or not.

  "Back in the cage," he snapped, the instant she had it. "Now!"

  Samantha jumped to her feet. To his surprise, so did Kelsey. What she did next surprised him even more; she took a quick step that put her between him and Sam, her chin up and a light in her green eyes that he recognized as a combination of fear and determination.

  "It was my fault," Kelsey said. "She took Slither out to show me. Don't blame her. I shouldn't have asked her to."

  It hit him then, where he'd seen that look before: in the eyes of women protecting their children. It took him a moment to realize why he was seeing it now, that Kelsey had stepped between them because she thought she needed to protect Sam from his obvious anger. She was trying to deflect it, to take the blame on herself, because…

  Because what? What the hell did she think he was going to do?

  "It's okay, Kelsey," Sam said calmly. "I knew better."

  She turned and efficiently put the snake back in the aquarium and fastened the lid. Then she looked up at her father.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have broken the rule." She picked up the aquarium carefully. "I'll take him out to the garage now."

  She started toward him, and Cruz stiffened. Rigidly he backed up a step as she went past him. He fought it, but at the closest point, he lost the battle and closed his eyes so that he didn't have to look at the cage and its occupant.

  When he opened his eyes again, he found Kelsey staring at him. He shrugged sheepishly.

  "My mother told me I was bitten by a rattler when I was two. It was sunning on a rock after a storm, and I nearly stepped on it. Only the fact that I had rain boots on because it was still muddy out saved me. I don't remember it, but the lesson took." He tried a smile, but wasn't sure how steady it was. "And to think I hated those damn boots."

  Kelsey kept staring at him. "But you let her keep it?"

  "I try not to infect her with my fears. She'll have enough of her own to deal with."

  She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide, astonished. He remembered then the moment when she'd leaped between them, ready to fight, as if Sam were her own. It was an image he would not soon forget. And he didn't know which hit him harder, that she'd done it, or that she'd thought it necessary.

  "I love my little girl, Kelsey," he said softly. "And I would never, ever do anything to hurt her."

  And why, he added silently to himself, would you think that I would?

  But he was afraid he already knew the answer to that.

  * * *

  "Hurry, Dad, it's almost seven-thirty. I don't want to be late. It's kata toda
y, and I want to practice my form before class."

  Kelsey looked from Cruz to Samantha, then back again.

  "Karate class at eight," Cruz explained as he finished the simple breakfast they'd put together of toast and fruit and cereal.

  "Tae kwon do," Sam said. "My sensei—that's the teacher—says I'll have a green belt soon."

  "Oh," Kelsey said, wondering why she was surprised; it was obvious that Cruz supported his daughter's interests, even if he didn't share them. Like Slither.

  And there was no sign of lingering tension; a rule had been broken, and the expected punishment meted out, and they had gone on. Sam's demeanor was slightly chastened, but there was no trace of fear or anxiety in her, nor was there any sign from Cruz that the punishment had only begun, that it would go on for days, until he was satisfied she'd learned her lesson.

  Kelsey watched as they went through what was clearly a routine of clearing the dishes into the dishwasher. Cruz and Samantha Gregerson obviously had this down to a science, she thought, and fought down another tug of that wistful feeling she'd been battling ever since she saw them together the first time.

  It was a wistfulness that grew with the realization that, as angry as he'd been, Cruz would never have taken it out on Sam. It was a revelation to her; in her experience, anger had always meant a loss of control, and no one could make a father angrier than a wayward, rule-breaking daughter. The years since had taught her that such was not always the case, but while she'd learned intellectually, she was discovering it was a far different thing to see it in action.

  Abruptly it was all too much, and she got hastily to her feet. Both Gregersons turned to look at her.

  "I… Thank you. For the sleep, and breakfast."

  "Is this goodbye?" Cruz said it lightly, but Kelsey sensed the deeper query, whether she was going to leave without telling him any more than she already had.

  "I… Yes. I have to go. I have to—" she broke off with a quick glance at Sam, then ended awkwardly with "—finish what I was doing."

  Cruz took the last bowl Sam held out to him, then sent her off to get her things for her karate class. When she was gone, he turned back to Kelsey, folding his arms across his chest. Arms that were strong enough to hold and comfort, a chest that was broad enough for a woman to shelter against. And for the first time in her life, Kelsey longed for that kind of shelter, the kind that didn't take away anything, only gave, the kind that didn't mean you weren't capable, but just meant that you didn't have to carry every burden all by yourself. The shelter of a quiet, strong man. A man to trust.