Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing PerfectAlmost PerfectSister of the BrideFinding Perfect

by Susan Mallery

  Charity did her best not to blush. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t know Josh owned the house.”

  “You do now.”

  “But he didn’t tell me.”

  He hadn’t even hinted when he’d shown her the house. Although looking back, she should have guessed something was up when he’d had a key.

  “Why would he do that?”

  Pia raised her eyebrows. “You tell me.”

  “We’re not together.”

  “Maybe he wants to be.”

  “No. Guys like him don’t…” She shook her head. “He’s too…”

  “Rich, successful, hot?”

  “I’m not his type.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Then I’ll pose it as a question. Am I his type?”

  “Until today, I would have said no. But maybe times are changing.”

  * * *

  CHARITY LEFT HER LUNCH with Pia nearly as hungry as when she’d arrived. She’d only been able to pick at her salad, mostly because she was thinking about Josh and the house and what Pia had said.

  It made no sense for him to give her a break on the price when other people would be offering him more. It implied a relationship they didn’t have. The fact that he’d done it before the “incident”—as she was now thinking of it—should have helped, but only made the situation more confusing.

  Just as mind-bending was Pia’s implication that Josh might be interested in her. He wasn’t. His ex-wife had been some gorgeous actress. Charity was going to have to go online and find out who, exactly. But the point was, he was not someone orbiting in her universe. Interested? On what planet?

  Yes, they’d had sex, but only because they’d both been carried away by the moment. Her more literally, but still. She refused to read too much into a single evening of hot lovemaking. That’s how hearts got broken.

  She did her best to push any thoughts of Josh out of her mind, only to have them resurface when she saw his offices up ahead. Maybe she should simply ask the question outright. Why was he giving her a deal on a house when he didn’t have to? Asking him was the adult, mature thing to do. She squared her shoulders and walked into the building.

  * * *

  “THERE’S SOMEONE HERE to see you,” Eddie told Josh. “She doesn’t have an appointment. She being the operative word here. Although I’ll give her credit. She’s not like the usual groupies who come looking for you. She’s out of her teens, for one thing, and dressed like a regular person.”

  Josh wasn’t in the mood to dash anyone’s hopes this afternoon. He had a lot to deal with, including figuring out how he was going to start training—a relatively easy problem to solve—while dealing with an irrational inability to ride with other people. A problem with a less clear solution.

  “You can handle her,” he told Eddie.

  “I can, but I don’t want to. She claims you know her. Charity Jones.”

  He was out of his seat before she’d finished speaking. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I just did. Are you giving me attitude?”

  He ignored her outrage and went out to the reception area. Charity stood in the center, looking nervous and determined. She managed a faint smile, which made him want to promise to fix whatever problem she had.

  “I didn’t have an appointment,” she told him. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. You don’t need an appointment.”

  “It would be nice if someone made one,” Eddie said with a sniff.

  Josh pointed to her desk. Eddie sighed heavily before returning to it. He put his hand on the small of Charity’s back, leading her to his office and then closing the door behind them.

  “Your assistant has a lot of personality,” Charity said.

  “She’s efficient and takes care of me.”

  “I like her.”

  “Me, too. Not that I want her to know.”

  Charity’s smile turned genuine. “She’d use it against you forever.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He motioned to the sofa and chairs in the corner. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Iced tea?”

  “I’m fine. I just had lunch with Pia.” She sat in a chair.

  He took the center of the sofa. “What’s going on?”

  She clasped her hands together. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  She didn’t sound worried, which was good. As he didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted to talk about, he simply waited. Checking out the view filled the seconds. She wore a short jacket over a lacy shirt and black pants. Very “woman in charge,” a look he enjoyed. It made him think about taming that power, and making the lady in question weak with longing.

  “That house we went to,” she began, forcing him to ignore the fantasy of a naked Charity writhing under him.

  “You want to make an offer?”

  “Not exactly. You own that house.”

  He wasn’t sure how she found out, but he wasn’t surprised, either.

  “Does it matter who’s selling it?”

  She drew in a breath. “You’ve had other offers. People who can pay more than me.”

  “I put a lot into that house. I want it to go to the right person.”

  “You’re giving me a break on the price that you’re not giving them.”

  Normally he would have been happy to take credit for being a great guy, but there was something in her tone, in the way she stared so intently.

  “And that’s bad why?” he asked.

  “How much of the town do you own?” she asked. “I know about the hotel. Do you own this building? More houses?”

  “Want to see a profit and loss statement? My accountant prepares one every quarter.”

  “No. Of course not. But you’re rich.”

  “By some definitions.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t play games. You’re successful and rich and gorgeous and great in bed.” She sucked in a breath. “Well, I can’t say about the ‘in bed’ part, but you obviously know what you’re doing and you do it well. And you’re nice.”

  Her tone told him she wasn’t trying to compliment him. The last statement had come out like an accusation.

  “Okay,” he said neutrally.

  She stood, so he rose. She faced him.

  “It’s so not fair. Why can’t this be easier?” she asked.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. Answering the question would be less of a problem if he knew what they were talking about. “I, ah…”

  “Sure. For you,” she grumbled. “You get whoever you want. You practically have women being delivered by room service.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean that, exactly. It’s just you could if you wanted. And you don’t, which means more points for you.”

  “Charity? What are we talking about?”

  She glared at him. “My life. My sucky love life. I don’t get it. Is it genetic? Karma? Did I do something bad in a previous life?”

  He stood there, feeling helpless. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” She was pretty and smart and funny and when she smiled at him, he had the feeling that he could do just about anything.

  “Isn’t there? Look at Robert. Isn’t he nice? Calm and pleasant and looking to settle down. But there’s not a scrap of chemistry. I couldn’t do it. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. And he would fall in the column of my more successful relationships. My first boyfriend hit me. Just once, but he did it.”

  Josh’s hands curled into fists. “Where is he now?” he asked, his voice low and angry.

  “It was ten years ago,” she said. “I walked out and never saw him again. But still. It made me wonder. My second serious boyfriend cleaned out my savings account. Talk about feeling stupid. The last one…” She sighed. “I’m not even going there. It’s too humiliating. And now there’s you. I like you. I like you a lot. Which means all I can think is if I like you then what on earth is wrong with you?”

  With th
at, she turned and left.

  Josh stood in the center of his office, trying not to grin like a fool. She liked him? Hot damn!

  * * *

  CHARITY STALKED OUT of Josh’s office, feeling foolish and exposed and a thousand other things that weren’t very pleasant. Her head was spinning, her chest felt tight and if she were the type to give in to tears, she would be having a breakdown right here on the sidewalk.

  Instead she kept moving, head held high, smiling at people on the street. She saw Morgan in his bookstore and waved at the old man. He grinned back.

  Now that was a simple relationship, she thought, trying to grit her teeth. She understood all the elements of it. She and Morgan were friends. They said hello, talked about the weather and went on with their lives. No complications. No handsome, hunky guy messing with her head.

  What had she been thinking, telling Josh she liked him? Were they in high school? “Tell Bobby I like him, but only if he says he likes me first.”

  She was confused, upset and unsettled.

  Despite the fact that her mother hadn’t been the most maternal of women, Charity found herself wishing she was still alive so that she could ask for her advice. As silly as it sounded, right now she could use a hug from her mother. Or an aunt. Even a long-lost cousin would be good.

  She walked into City Hall and started up the stairs. At the top, she passed Marsha, walking out of the break room with a cup of coffee.

  “How was your lunch?” the mayor asked.

  “Good. Pia’s always fun.”

  “She is. She was a bit of a terror when she was younger.” Marsha frowned. “What’s that expression? She was a mean girl.”

  “Pia?” Charity couldn’t imagine it.

  “She was pretty and popular and wanted her way. Not a good combination in a teenager. But she turned out well.” Marsha sipped her coffee. “Is everything all right? I don’t mean to pry, but you look… I’m not sure. If I had to pick, I would say you look sad.”

  Charity forced herself to smile. “I’m fine. Missing my mom, a little. She died several years ago. I guess that’s something you never get over.”

  Marsha stiffened and the color drained from her face.

  Charity moved toward her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Of course. The loss of a mother is always tragic. I still miss mine and she’s been gone over thirty years.” Marsha squared her shoulders. “Charity, would you please come with me into my office.”

  “Sure.”

  Charity followed her. Something was wrong, she could feel it, but she had no idea what it was. Had she done something wrong? Had she crossed a line talking about something personal?

  When they reached Marsha’s office, the mayor did something Charity had never experienced before. Not in Fool’s Gold. She closed her doors. Then she led the way to the small conversation area by the wall.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” Marsha said when they were both seated. “I’ve been waiting for the right time. Which is the coward’s way of saying I didn’t know how to tell you. I suppose the best way is to simply blurt out the words.”

  Charity did her best not to go to the bad place. Possibilities flashed through her mind. Marsha was sick and/or dying. Charity was about to be fired. The town was going to disappear into a giant sinkhole. But no scenario prepared her for what came next.

  Marsha leaned forward, lightly touching Charity’s arm as she gave her a gentle smile. “I’m your grandmother.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHARITY WAS GLAD SHE was seated. There was no way she could have stayed standing after hearing Marsha’s announcement.

  “My…”

  “Grandmother. Sandra Tilson, or as you knew her, Sandra Jones, was my daughter. Do you need some water?”

  Charity shook her head. The words made sense, but she couldn’t accept their meaning. Grandmother, as in family? Sandra had always told Charity they were alone in the world, that they only had each other. Although Charity was sure her mother would have easily withheld that kind of truth if she wanted to. Sandra wasn’t a bad person, but she’d been determined to live by her own rules.

  Now, in the quiet office of the mayor of Fool’s Gold, Charity stared at the sixty-something woman sitting across from her and looked for the truth in her eyes.

  She thought it might be there in the shape of the jaw, the particular shade of her eyes. Just like her mother’s. But a grandmother?

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  Marsha rose and crossed to her desk. She opened a side drawer and pulled out a slim photo album then walked back and handed it to Charity.

  Charity ran her fingers across the red leather cover, almost afraid to open it.

  “My husband died when I was very young and our daughter was still a toddler,” the older woman began. “Having her helped me survive the grief. We were so close. She was a lovely, friendly child. So smart in school. But when she became a teenager, everything fell apart. She began to rebel.”

  Marsha clasped her hands together on her lap. “I didn’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I tried loving her more. I negotiated with her. Then, when things only got worse, I grounded her. Made the rules tougher. I became a controlling, dictatorial parent.”

  Charity continued to hold the album. “She wouldn’t have done well with a lot of rules.”

  “You’re right. The tighter I held on, the more she tried to slip away. I’d always been strict, but I became impossible. She responded by skipping school, going to parties, drinking and using drugs. She and a few friends were arrested for stealing a car. I was humiliated and at my wit’s end. I didn’t know how to get through to her. Then she told me she was pregnant. She was barely seventeen.”

  Marsha drew in a breath. “It was too much. I completely lost it and screamed at her like no mother should. I accused her of ruining my life, of planning ways to embarrass me. I think at that second, I hated her.”

  She dropped her head a little. “I’m so ashamed now. I would give anything to have that moment, those words, back. Sandra glared at me with all the loathing a seventeen-year-old is capable of and said she would make my life easier. She would go away. I remember I laughed and told her that my luck wasn’t that good.”

  Marsha swallowed and met Charity’s gaze. “She was gone the next morning. I couldn’t believe it. That she would really leave. I was convinced she loved her creature comforts too much to give them up. But I was wrong.” Tears filled her eyes.

  Charity leaned toward her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You had a fight. Mothers and daughters fight. My mother and I—” She paused. Her mother might possibly be Marsha’s daughter. Could they really be talking about the same person?

  “I appreciate you taking my side, but I know what I did and where the blame lies. With me.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away. “She disappeared. I don’t know how she did it, but she was gone. Totally and completely gone. I couldn’t find her. I looked and looked, hired professionals, begged God, sent flyers across the country. There wasn’t a trace. Finally, nearly three years later, we got a break. One of the detectives I’d hired sent me an address in Georgia. I was on the next plane.”

  Hearing the story was like listening to a recap of a made-for-TV movie, Charity thought. She was compelled, but not involved. This wasn’t about her. In theory, she was part of it, but she couldn’t feel the connection to events.

  “You were so beautiful,” Marsha said, her smile trembling. “I saw you first, playing in the yard. You were pushing a little plastic baby carriage around the lawn. You were about two and a half. Sandra was sitting on the step, watching you. The house was small, the neighborhood terrible. All I wanted to do was gather you both up and bring you home. Back here, to live with me.”

  Which didn’t happen, Charity thought, not daring to wonder how her life would have been different if she’d grown up in a place like Fool’s Gold. A small town where people cared about each other. A place w
here she could finally have roots.

  “She was still angry,” Marsha whispered. The smile faded. “So angry. She wouldn’t let me say anything, wouldn’t listen to my apology. There was such rage in her voice and her eyes. She told me to go away. That she never wanted to see me again. She said if I tried to see her or you, she would make sure you both disappeared again, and that I would never find you. I was devastated.”

  Marsha drew in a breath. “Sorry. It’s been a long time, but it feels so recent. So raw. I explained I had changed, learned from my mistakes. I said I wanted her back in my life. Both of you. She didn’t care. She said she was done with me, with the rules and expectations. She was doing fine on her own and repeated that if she ever saw me again, she would disappear and I would never find either of you.”

  Charity’s chest tightened as she saw the other woman’s pain. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. There was a part of her that said Sandra wouldn’t have done that, except she knew it was more than possible. When Sandra made up her mind, she couldn’t be budged. There was no going back. More than one of Sandra’s men had discovered that too late to keep her.

  “I came back home,” Marsha said. “I was broken inside. I knew it was all my fault.”

  “It wasn’t,” Charity told her firmly. “You made a mistake, but you wanted to make it right. No one is perfect. We all make mistakes. It was Sandra’s decision not to listen. Not to give you a second chance.”

  “Perhaps. I tried telling myself that. The truth is I tried to control every aspect of Sandra’s life. Most children would have had trouble with that, but for Sandra, it was impossible to stand. Knowing that it was because I’d lost my husband, and was terrified that if I didn’t handle everything, yet another tragedy would invade my life didn’t seem to help.”

  She pressed her lips together, then spoke. “I left the two of you. I didn’t know what else to do. I thought about keeping tabs on her, but I was afraid she would find out. Years passed. The memories faded, but not the longing, the wondering. I thought about the two of you all the time. Ten years later, I hired another detective, to see if she could be found. He located her easily. The boy who had been your father…” Marsha’s voice trailed off. “I’m saying too much.”