It had been a long time since Cord had been moved by a pair of eyes. Hers looked up at him with such innocence, yet were so troubled. If she’d finagled her way into Renaissance House for an inside story on the family, she’d done an amazing job of coming off sweet.
He climbed into the van he generally used at work, and started up the engine for his trip to Magna. On the way he would stop for a bite to eat. That would put him at Woodruff Elementary School in plenty of time to deliver the foundation brochures his sister planned to hand out to the students.
After leaving the garage, he drove to the corner of First Avenue, then made another left down to South Temple. He was almost to the corner when he glimpsed Arza Cosgriff engrossed in conversation with the same woman who’d unknowingly charmed Cord, despite his suspicions.
She was still dressed in the flowered blouse and khaki skirt her well-proportioned body did wonders for. Close enough now, he could see her cap of brunette curls gleaming in the late-morning sun.
He lowered the window to tell her he’d take her where she wanted to go, but the bus had just pulled up. They both got on. Since he knew Gwen wouldn’t send her on a job interview until tomorrow, he decided to follow the bus and see where she got off.
Cord didn’t have to guess about Arza’s destination. He went to the Cosgriff Building every day like clockwork to make certain his sons weren’t ruining the newspaper owned by his family since the coming of the railroad.
When the bus reached West Temple, the woman got off with several other people who all moved north with the light. She had a breezy walking style he enjoyed watching.
Before long she crossed another street. He turned the corner and followed at a discreet distance. A minute later she’d entered the Western Trailways bus depot.
Cord double-parked next to some cars and waited. In a few minutes she emerged with a full-size suitcase in hand.
So she wasn’t from Salt Lake….
Come to think of it, she hadn’t been carrying any luggage when he’d relieved Dwayne so the other man could get back to his planting. Though Cord’s first instinct was to help her, he refrained.
In case she wondered why he’d taken an undue interest in her, he made a U-turn and drove back to South Temple.
After a moment she came into view. As soon as she reached the bus stop, he pulled alongside and put down the passenger window.
“Kit?”
Her dark fringed eyes rounded when she realized who was calling to her.
“I was out doing errands and saw you. Want a lift?”
She seemed to hold back, but he knew in his gut she wanted to say yes. “Are you certain it’s all right?” she asked.
Did she know who he was?
He hoped not. He hoped like hell she was innocent. If she had ulterior motives for gaining entrance to Renaissance House, she was playing it just right.
In case she really was a homeless person, he found her hesitation a nice quality in someone who needed her kind of help.
“I can do what I want on my lunch break.”
As a rule he preferred to remain anonymous at the shelter. As soon as a tenant learned his identity, a barrier went up and he became one of the “haves” as opposed to the “have-nots.”
She still didn’t make a move toward him. Deciding to take the matter out of her hands, he climbed out of the van and went around to reach for her suitcase, uncaring that he’d caused a minor traffic jam. The suitcase was heavy, but she’d managed it.
Opening the van door, he put it inside. The originating ticket attached to the handle caught his eye—Los Angeles, CA. He looked back at her. “Come on. This is the kind of work I do on a regular basis.”
“Thank you.” The words sounded heartfelt.
He helped her into the passenger seat and shut the door. Once he’d started up the van again and merged with the traffic he said, “What part of Los Angeles are you from? I saw the tag on your luggage.”
“Venice Beach.”
“You’re a long way from the ocean here.”
“That’s what the lady from the Traveler’s Aid said when I got off the bus yesterday. I’ve never been out of California except to visit Tijuana, which doesn’t really count.” She bowed her head. “The woman was very helpful.”
“That’s good to hear.” Cord would pass the word along to the appropriate source.
“So far everyone I’ve met has been kind and understanding. I’m so grateful.”
If this was an act, she deserved some kind of award. He turned into a fast-food drive-through on Fourth South. “What do you want for lunch? It’s already twelve-thirty. By the time we get back, they’ll have stopped serving in the dining room.”
After a pause she said, “I’ll have a chicken pita roll-up and a lemonade, please.”
He gave the order and they pulled up to the first window. While he fished in his back pocket for his wallet, she opened her purse and removed a five-dollar bill, which she handed to him. Cord stuffed it back in her purse. No sign of a camera there, either.
By accident his hand covered hers. It was small. No rings. Just right for him to squeeze, but he resisted the temptation.
“I’ll get it this time. When you receive your first paycheck, you can treat me.”
She lifted those expressive blue eyes to him. “It’s a deal.”
Right now they were eloquent with gratitude. He saw no guile in them.
Once he’d been handed the food, he found a place to park at the rear of the building where they could eat.
On the off chance that she was on the level, he was glad to see she’d arrived in Salt Lake with some money. Much as he wanted to know her circumstances, he would have to control his curiosity and wait until he reached his office, where he could read her history on the computer.
Of course, it could all be lies, and probably was….
“How long have you been a security guard?” she asked when she was halfway through her roll-up.
In case she was playing him along, he decided to cooperate. “Eight years.”
“You must like your job to have stayed with it.”
“I do. I enjoy being the general dogsbody around there.”
“You’re lucky.”
He heard a wealth of emotion in her response, the kind he didn’t think could be faked. “I have no way of knowing what type of work you’ve done, but something tells me it hasn’t been all that satisfying.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She sipped on her lemonade. “I intend to be a schoolteacher one day.”
“You must be a glutton for punishment then. What age group?”
“Elementary. I love children.”
Under other circumstances he would have told her about Katy, his little niece, who was in first grade. She was too precocious for her own good. Brock, her older brother, was in fourth. He used to be a pretty happy kid. Now he was quieter and kept everything inside.
“I enjoy the kids who come to the shelter.” He swallowed the last of his hamburger. “Would you like dessert? We could drive through again for a soft ice cream.”
“Sounds good.”
Whether she was still hungry or not, Cord had an idea she would have said yes just to please him. The trouble was, everything she said or did was suspect.
He reversed, then went around again to place their order. Soon they were on their way back to the shelter, enjoying their treat.
He felt an urge to take her to Magna with him so he could learn more about her. But from the outset he’d established rules for himself and his staff—no fraternizing with the tenants. It was too soon to start breaking them, even though he was determined to learn the truth about her.
Cord could see Kit’s behavior wasn’t that of a typical homeless woman. She didn’t act downtrodden or project a demeanor that told everyone she’d come to the last turn in the road. Yet he sensed a certain vulnerability about her. Again he had to ask himself if this was something she could fake.
Realizing time was growing short,
he pulled into the back entrance and drove her to the cottage. Before she could say anything, he got out and took her suitcase inside for her.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s heavy,” he said, facing her once more in the foyer. “If you get hungry or thirsty before dinner, there are drinks and fruit in the kitchen. Is there anything else you need?”
She pressed her lips together. “You’ve done more than enough already. My debt is growing.”
“That’s good.”
His comment provoked the smile he’d been waiting for. What in the hell was wrong with him?
“You haven’t told me your name,” she said in a quiet voice.
“I was hoping you’d ask,” he teased. He’d been wondering how long it would take her to start vetting him. Now he knew…. “It’s Cord.”
“Short for McCord?”
It was short for Cordell, his mother’s maiden name. Was that the question of a reporter, or the fortune hunter Gwen had suggested?
“No. Just Cord.”
“It suits you.”
That checked his movement toward the door. “In what way?”
“Cord has a certain western ring to it, denoting a rugged individualist type. I can picture you in cowboy boots riding the range, fending off the rustlers and renegades while you protect the innocent.”
Except that he hadn’t been able to protect his baby sister.
“No one’s ever said that to me before. See you around, Kit.”
He frowned all the way to the van. She was saying and doing all the right things. Damn if she hadn’t already gotten under his skin.
CHAPTER THREE
SEE YOU AROUND.
Kit found herself hoping that was true.
She heard the van drive away, but wished he didn’t have to go. There was no point in denying the fact that he’d made an impact on her. Any more time in his presence and she wouldn’t have been able to hide her attraction to him.
More than once the thought had crossed her mind that if he’d been employed here for the last eight years, then he had to be on friendly terms with Richard McFarland. Who better than Cord to answer some of Kit’s questions about the McFarland family? Even arrange a meeting with his employer?
But her conscience was already warning her not to go in that direction. Cord had been wonderful to her today. She didn’t want to trade on his kindness like that. She didn’t want to use him at all!
While she stayed at Renaissance House, Kit hoped she and the other tenants would run into the man who’d created the shelter. It would be her chance to talk to Richard McFarland without raising any suspicions. If he was her brother, surely she would be able to pick out the telltale signs that said they’d come from the same gene pool.
As for Cord, she preferred to get to know him away from his work, after she’d discovered the truth of her parentage. That is, if Cord wanted the same thing… It was hard to tell.
She assumed he was single, perhaps divorced or even widowed. Somehow it didn’t seem possible such an appealing man would still be unattached.
Stop it, Kit.
Though she’d sensed an energy between them from the very first moment they’d met, maybe those reactions were all on her part. She had to face the fact that she was feeling so vulnerable right now, any good-looking guy who was nice to her would probably make a strong impression.
Before her mother had become deathly ill, Kit had done her fair share of dating. But dealing with an alcoholic parent all her life had conditioned her not to get too close to anyone.
If she wanted a boyfriend to meet her mom, she could never count on Rena being home, let alone sober when they walked in the door. Sometimes she was passed out on the couch in the middle of the day. It was a big turn-off for most guys. Before they could drop her, Kit pushed them away.
The situation with Cord was entirely different. Was she out of her mind to be thinking about a security guard she’d only met this morning? The man would have been every bit as decent to any of the other tenants. Being kind and helpful went with the job.
Right now she wished she could talk to Janene, who was the practical type and would make certain Kit stayed grounded. There was a lot to tell her about the conversation with Mr. Cosgriff, the old man she’d met at the bus stop.
During their ride downtown he’d told her his family had owned one of the two major Utah newspapers since its inception back in the late 1800s. He’d done everything conceivable to help the McFarlands recover their baby. The things Kit had learned from him about the kidnapping had left her chilled.
Unfortunately, Janene wouldn’t be home from work before seven on a Thursday night. Since Utah was an hour ahead of California, Kit would have to wait until after eight tonight to call her.
She had other friends she could phone, of course, but Janene was the only one who knew about her mom’s deathbed confession. The rest of them thought Kit had gone on a well-deserved vacation.
Her boss at work had been very sympathetic. “If you need more than two weeks, take it. Your job will be waiting for you when you get back,” he’d promised. But she hoped to accomplish everything within that short amount of time.
If it turned out her mother had committed the crime, Kit didn’t know what would happen to her. She didn’t think she could stand for anyone else she knew to learn the truth.
You idiot, Kit! Don’t you realize when news like that comes out, it will be all over the media and make the headlines of every newspaper in America?
She cringed just imagining it. More than ever she needed to talk to Janene. It would be nice to have her cell phone, but at the last moment she decided to leave it in California. She could have used the mansion’s house phone, but didn’t want to risk being overheard. As soon as dinner was over, she would take the bus to the nearest convenience store and use one of the phone cards she’d purchased to contact her.
There was only one problem. Renaissance House had a 10:30 p.m. curfew. No tenants would be allowed through the back gate or the front door of the mansion past that time unless they were coming from a job after hours.
If Janene decided to go out with friends after work, she might not bother to check her phone messages until later—maybe too late for them to talk. All Kit could do was make the call and hope Janene answered. Otherwise she would have to phone her friend in the morning.
It wouldn’t do to break house rules. After the trouble she’d caused trying to get a bed, she couldn’t expect Gwen to pull through again to save her.
With nothing else to do at the moment, Kit unpacked and put her clothes away. In the armoire she discovered an entertainment center. Once she’d found a comedy rerun on TV, she lay down on the bed. The plot didn’t hold her attention, but the noise provided company so she wouldn’t think about her mom, whom she missed horribly.
If Rena and Frankie had kidnapped the McFarlands’ baby, then it was understandable why her drinking problem had grown worse with time. How else could she forget what a terrible crime she’d committed except to blot out the world whenever possible?
“Oh, Mom! Mom… I can’t bear that you did such a terrible thing. It can’t be true. It just can’t….”
Kit buried her face in the pillow and sobbed.
Some time later she heard ringing, and thought it was coming from the TV. She lifted her head to listen and heard it again. Kit glanced at the phone on the nightstand, but it was silent. She sat up in bed. It had to be the doorbell.
Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she slid off the bed and hurried through the French doors to the foyer entrance.
When she opened it, Kit didn’t know who was more surprised—herself or the lanky, dark blond boy, who looked to be about ten years old.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
He studied her with quiet intensity. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Kit. What’s yours?”
“Brock.” His curious gaze took in her mussed hair and bare feet. “Are you Uncle Cord’s new girlfrien
d?”
With that one question, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The security guard lived here. Yet he’d been asked to give up his room so she would have a place to stay at Renaissance House until there was a bed for her inside the mansion.
It raised a dozen other questions, such as where would he be living for the next week? How long had it been since he’d broken up with his old girlfriend? But, of course, Kit didn’t have the luxury of asking this darling boy anything so personal.
“I’m new here, but I’m not his girlfriend.”
“Oh. You must be one of the cleaning ladies from the mansion.”
The irony of his remark caught her off guard. It also told her Brock had never seen a homeless person staying here.
Before she could explain her presence, he walked past her to the bedroom. She closed the front door and followed him.
He went to the bathroom, then came back into the room and found the television remote control in a drawer. After sitting on the end of the bed, he changed the channel to a violent cartoon.
“Does your uncle know you were coming to see him?”
“Uncle Cord promised to help me with my Webelos badge today. My mom just dropped me off.”
Intrigued, Kit moved closer. “I was a Cub Scout leader at home. I used to help kids do their badges. Which one are you working on?”
“Forestry,” said a deep male voice directly behind her.
Kit swung around. Cord’s muscled frame seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Their eyes met in silent greeting. How long had he been standing there?
“I see you two have been introduced.” He walked past her to take the remote out of Brock’s hands and shut off the TV. “Your folks don’t like you watching that cartoon.”
“I know. I was just looking at it for a minute.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. Get in the car and I’ll be right there.”
“Goodbye, Brock,” Kit called to him as he headed for the door. “It was nice to meet you. Good luck on that badge.”
He stopped in the doorway. His blue-gray eyes swerved to hers. “Thanks. Bye.”
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