“Looks like I need to wake up Chantelle. I may need all the advocates I can get.” Zack knew he needed to distract his mother from her habitual nagging.
“Don’t you dare, Chantelle’s resting.” His mother poured a glass of lemonade and handed it to him. Then she guided him to the screened-in porch off the backside of the house. “She hasn’t talked about what happened a couple of nights ago. Can’t say I blame her. What kind of men—” she held up her four fingers “—would do this to a defenseless woman? Our cities are going to…” His mother’s declaration turned into a mumble, a habit of hers when she wanted to use a curse word.
“I know. I’ve talked to the police chief. They are doing everything to find these animals. I suspect that they’ve done this before and there may be other cases. I told them that I’d bring Chantelle to the station to look at the mug shots.”
“You don’t sound hopeful.”
He didn’t respond. The odds were against them, not that he considered the act something unusual among these men. Unfortunately, they would transfer their anger and frustration at not being successful to another victim.
“Chantelle’s worried that we’ll make her pull out of school in Montreal and enroll in the university here.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He could keep an eye on her. As a college student, she teetered on the edge of teenage and adulthood, a position that brought them mutual grief as the grades rolled in. His lectures and advice were rarely appreciated. His impromptu visit to the campus after her recent low grade point average didn’t help matters.
“You can’t smother her. I’ll have to convince your father of that too.” His mother sighed.
Suddenly he noticed the increased gray in her hair, which did nothing to detract from its thick, luxurious waves that settled on her shoulders.
His mother stroked his cheek. “It’s good to see you, although you look very tired.”
“I’m fine.” His mother’s keen sense of awareness unsettled him. “Good deals are coming in. Thank goodness things are picking up. There are a few pesky issues that try my patience, but it’s all good.”
“Nothing more?” she probed. “How are things with your father?”
He shook his head and pointedly looked out at the expansive backyard. The various shades of green fitted against each other like a jigsaw puzzle with flat grassland to clusters of trees. Their house sat on ten acres. His favorite activity used to be exploring and acting out his childhood adventures with his friends. Now he had set aside those childish things for the dollars and cents of his business.
“Your father wants to talk to you,” she continued.
“Are you going to be the emissary?”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
“Sorry,” Zack said automatically.
“No, you’re not, but I’ll let that go. Will you stay for dinner?”
“I wanted to get back to the hospital.”
“Hospital? Oh, right, to see the woman who helped Chantelle. How is she doing?”
“I didn’t go yesterday, but I got a report that she’s doing much better. Should be released any day now.”
“What about her grandparents? I thought they would be here by now.”
“Apparently her grandfather is in a wheelchair and needs assistance. Her grandmother had to make sure someone could help him. She’ll be flying out tomorrow.”
“Wonderful. I’ll give her the guest room on this floor.” Her mother used the intercom to summon the housekeeper. “What about the young lady…”
“Naomi.” He gave his mother the name.
“Will she need a room on the first floor?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s wait to see if she’s able to walk. Could be painful with the bruised ribs.”
“Ouch.”
Reba knocked at the door. His mother gave her instructions about the room. From the lengthy comments, Zack knew Naomi’s grandmother would enjoy her stay.
“Mom, I have to go,” he said after the housekeeper left.
“Why? I thought we could have lunch. I don’t often get a chance to have you all to myself.”
“I had to reschedule my meeting the other day when I rushed to the hospital. I’ve got to get this mall deal wrapped up.”
“You know your father could help. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn. You’re just like him.” He froze for a second, then forced himself to act normal.
His mother offered her cheek for his farewell peck. “Take care, Azacca. I love you.”
“Yes, Mom.” Using his formal Haitian name, which meant “spirit guide of farming,” carried its own message. She was unhappy with him. He didn’t ask for the cause. The list seemed to be growing on a daily basis. His most recent transgression drew the biggest reaction of impatience from her and angry incomprehension from his father. Digging up his past didn’t sit well with the family after he gained the courage to share that he wanted to locate and meet his birth mother.
He closed the front door behind him, glad to be on the other side. Out here lay his future, but it also provided him a path to his past. He wanted to know his beginnings. Who was his birth mother? Did she think about him? Did his birth father wonder about him? He hoped his investigation would be successful.
In no way did he not love his adopted parents. Not once did he doubt their love. But he felt that a part of him was missing. Maybe if he’d never known, he could have lived a satisfied life, but the first five years of his life couldn’t simply be erased. He had been left at an orphanage in a rural farming community. His name reflected the worker’s perception that he was a gift. However, he wondered if he was not just a burden.
Naomi pressed the up arrow on the remote to raise the head of her bed. She didn’t want to move, but she had to head for the bathroom. The doctor wanted her to walk around anyway. The torture could take five or ten minutes of sweat and lip-biting pain for the effort. The nurse had admonished her to ask for help. They were so overworked that she didn’t want to bother them or she could wait until her assigned nurse was free. Frankly, she was tired of sitting in bed staring at the walls or the mindless TV shows. Her team had gone on with the exhibition, a fact she understood, even if it made her feel abandoned.
Every move she made caused her to bite down. Right now, she needed to hold on to the bed rail and the curtain to maintain her balance. She inched her way to the bathroom, grimacing. Her entire body ached. The painkillers dulled the edge but couldn’t eradicate everything.
Her slow walk past the mirror didn’t help her mood. She’d asked for two hospital gowns to ensure no embarrassing disclosures. Now that she was in the bathroom, she might as well see if she could wash up. What would have taken a few minutes turned into thirty minutes. Her limbs shook as exhaustion flooded her. A wave of dizziness hit and she sank into a chair just outside the bathroom. She laid her head back against the wall, fighting back the urge to slide off the chair into a puddle on the floor.
“Knock. Knock.”
Naomi didn’t answer. If it was a doctor, they’d enter anyway. She wasn’t expecting anyone else, especially after she’d chased away her coach’s assistant. The young woman had hovered at her bedside as though she were keeping a vigil. Thankfully, the woman wouldn’t be back until the evening.
“Miss Venable? May I come in?”
Naomi had a good memory for faces and voices. This voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place how she knew this. Her eyes barely opened, but a smile spread at the thought that his voice had the quality of a rich, sweet bourbon sauce over a warm, sinful dessert.
“Are you okay?”
Now she had to open her eyes, especially since the stranger touched her shoulder.
“Are you a reporter?” She squinted up at him, fighting to stay focused. “You can remove your hand, now.”
“Oh, sorry.” The stranger’s hand dropped to his side. He stepped back. “I’m Zack Keathley.”
Naomi let the name register and then searched h
er memory. She took in the well-fitted suit, the groomed, clean face, dark eyes that sucked her in with a magnetic appeal.
“Chantelle is my sister. She’s the girl you saved.”
“Ah.” Thank goodness he wasn’t a reporter. She desperately wanted to get back under the covers.
“You’re looking much better.”
“I don’t know about that. The mirror just scared me.” She smoothed her hair, now keenly aware that her appearance next to this sleek-outfitted man made her feel drab.
“Glad to see you’re up and about, too.” He looked at the bed back to the chair.
Naomi slid her bare feet under the chair. Now she obsessed about getting back under the covers. She reached for the hospital gown that was poised to slide off her shoulder. She groaned.
“Looks like you need to get back in bed.”
Did he have to look so delicious saying that? Not that she considered herself a flirt, but another time, another place, that would have earned him her sexy smile. Right now, she wanted to cry out from the waves of pain.
“Here, let me help you.” He slipped his hand under her arm, careful to avoid the IV tube.
The gown slipped and Naomi tried to wiggle it back into place before she could escalate her embarrassment with a peep show.
“Here, allow me.”
“I guess I need to reintroduce myself since you’re helping me remain dressed. I’m Naomi.”
“Zack.” He smiled. “Remember?”
Naomi didn’t mind smiling back, grateful that she had washed up. Although her face was a rainbow of colorful bruises, she’d straightened her hair and cleaned her face, and she smelled like soap.
His hands barely brushed her neck as he tied the top. Then he moved to the middle and tied.
“Um…” He paused. “I don’t want to go any farther.”
“And I don’t want you to.” She lied. “Now to figure out how I’ll get from here to there with some semblance of decency.”
He pulled the other gown from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Now you’re all set.”
She appreciated his foresight. More comfortable, she eased to the edge of the chair and willed her legs to push her up. She needn’t have worried. Zack had his arm firmly around her upper back. They made an odd couple with the IV pole rolling along beside her as he supported her slow efforts to the bed.
She backed her way into the bed. The instant her body touched the linens, she sagged, unable to bring her legs up.
“I promise that I’m not trying to get fresh.” Zack lifted her legs and eased them back under the covers.
Sweat sprinkled her brow. She couldn’t open her eyes even if she tried. Her mouth trembled. She hoped that she wouldn’t bawl, but she’d never felt so helpless.
“Here’s some apple juice.”
She took the cup he’d just opened and sipped. The cool, sugary beverage gave her a needed boost. She shifted until she got herself in a comfortable position.
“I guess the favor has now been repaid.”
“Excuse me?”
“I helped your sister. And you’re helping me.”
“This is nothing. My family and I are still in your debt.” He took the chair she’d just vacated. “That’s why I’m here.”
“You’ve been here before, though. I recognized your voice.”
“Yes. Do you have any immediate plans for when they release you?”
“No. I haven’t really thought about anything. Guess I’ll fly back home. I have a long recovery.”
“May I extend my family’s invitation to stay at our house until you can comfortably travel?”
Naomi didn’t know how to respond. Zack, the devilishly handsome stranger, wanted her to come to his home. He didn’t look certifiable, although what he suggested certainly belonged in that realm.
“If it makes you feel better, I also extended the invitation to your grandmother. She’s arriving tomorrow.”
“What?” She’d been out a day or so and her life had been rearranged. “How did you get in touch with my grandmother?”
“Your coach gave me the information. Her assistant has been so helpful with contacting her. Of course, she’s upset that she couldn’t be here sooner, but arrangements had to be made for your grandfather.”
Naomi had wondered about her grandparents. “I was going to call them today…”
“I have her phone number in my cell.” Zack, the second time her savior, dialed and then handed her the device. Then he discreetly left the room. Did he have to be so thoughtful?
“Hi, Grandma, it’s me.” Her grandmother’s soft voice made her miss home.
“Hi, sweetheart. I’m glad to hear your voice. How do you feel?”
Naomi gave her some details. Her grandmother called to her granddad, announcing her presence on the call. His distant response made her smile.
“I’ll be arriving tomorrow around lunchtime. That wonderful man, Zack, will have a driver pick me up.” Her grandmother giggled. “I feel like a star. He’ll bring me to you. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Do you need me to book a hotel?” Naomi didn’t want to rely on Zack.
“Oh, no, I’ll be staying at Zack’s. Isn’t that nice? There are nice people all over the world, sweetheart.”
“And bad people, too.”
“I sense when people are up to no good. I don’t get that from Zack.”
Naomi pursed her lips. She didn’t want to have a futile argument with her grandmother.
“Plus, you’ll be staying there with me when you’re released tomorrow.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I’ve talked to the doctor, dear. You’ll be released tomorrow. I’ll come get you and then we can head over to the Keathleys’.”
Wasn’t this all nice and tidy? No one bothered to ask her, even though she was under the influence of powerful painkillers. She could expect her grandmother to cave in to a solicitous person, but she was more streetwise. She finished her call with her grandmother, deciding to wait until tomorrow to put her foot down.
“Hi.” Zack reentered the room. “Did you have a lovely talk?”
“Don’t try to be nice. You railroaded my grandmother into your crazy plan.”
“Would you like to talk to my mother?”
“Why?” Naomi didn’t like this never-ending stream of strangers all knowing her business. Plus, why couldn’t he look uncomfortable, instead of standing there as if he was lord of the manor?
“Hi, Naomi.” A young girl poked her head around the door.
“Yes?” she said to the new visitor. Naomi wished they hadn’t removed the morphine drip. Now would be a good time to close her eyes and block out everyone.
“Hey, Zack. I was hoping you’d be here.”
“You must be Chantelle.” Naomi looked at the brother and sister. There was no resemblance.
“Are you getting out today?”
“Tomorrow,” Zack answered. Seeing Naomi’s surprise, he continued, “Your grandmother told me.”
“I wish people would stay out of my business,” she grumbled.
“I wish the same thing, too, but Zack likes to play big brother.”
Naomi didn’t get the big-brother vibe. The man had too much gorgeous material in him to be relegated to sibling status.
“She doesn’t want to stay with us,” Zack told Chantelle.
Chantelle flopped on the bed. “Really? But you have to stay with us.”
“Your brother has helped me already. Debt repaid.” Naomi instantly liked the young girl. She had a liveliness that she found contagious.
“My brother always gets what he wants.” Chantelle arched an eyebrow, her mouth pursed to add emphasis.
“I have to get to a dinner appointment. Are you able to eat?”
“Yes, although the food sucks.” Naomi had barely been able to get more than a few forks of food into her mouth earlier today.
“I’ll order you a baked chicken dinner from a friend’s restaura
nt. I’m sure the portions will be too much, but eat what you can.”
“Thank you.” Naomi couldn’t keep up with this guy always sitting in the driver’s seat. She’d tell him a thing or two—after she ate the food.
“You know you should just say what’s on your mind,” he interrupted. “Otherwise, I’ll have to keep looking at your mouth twitching and those eyes shooting daggers.”
“With all your resources, I would like you to recommend a hotel.” She refused to budge from her position. She’d never been a burden on anyone and didn’t want to start now.
Zack pulled out his cell phone. He stepped out of the room and down the hallway, selecting a spot where he could talk. Normally people wanted to please him, do his bidding, tell him what he wanted to hear. This woman he’d met only two days ago certainly didn’t count herself as one of his avid fans and definitely not an admirer.
The phone rang and he spoke briefly to the other party.
Maybe she thought he had ulterior motives for the invitation. He behaved honorably, although his thoughts may have strayed to contemplating things he had no business contemplating. For instance, no significant other had rushed to her side in the past few days. He hoped that she didn’t have to hurry back home to anyone. Why did that mole on her neck draw his attention in the worst way?
He stepped back into the room and held out his phone to Naomi. “My mother wants to talk to you.”
“What?” Shock was evident on her face.
“I tried to explain to my mother that you were uncomfortable accepting her invitation. She’d like to speak to you.” This time he set down the phone on the bedside table and stepped back.
“Oh, you fight dirty, bro. But I like,” Chantelle whispered, grinning enough for both of them.
He watched Naomi slowly take the phone. Mothers all over the world seemed to have the effect of making someone sit up straight. In Naomi’s case, she tried as best as she could to sit up. Her “yes, ma’am” responses were priceless. Sometimes she began an explanation, but it quickly died. She’d learn that the Keathleys rarely swayed from their position.
The Millionaire’s Ultimate Catch Page 3