“The usual?” she asked.
Josh nodded. Ethan did the same.
She glanced between them. “You two kiss and make up?”
“There wasn’t any kissing,” Ethan said. “Unless you’re offering.”
She rolled her eyes. “You so couldn’t handle me.” She walked back to the bar.
Josh glanced at his friend. “Jo?”
He shook his head. “No. We flirt, but it doesn’t mean anything. She’s not my type.”
“Since when do you have a type?” Josh asked, then wished he hadn’t. Ethan had been married. He’d loved and lost in the worst way possible. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. So I hear you’re competing again.”
“It’s one race.”
“That’s all it takes to get back in the game.”
Josh wasn’t sure he wanted to be in the game. Right now he was mostly interested in proving something to himself.
“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I’ve been riding, but not seriously.”
“That has to change.”
“I know.”
“It’s all about fundamentals,” Ethan said. “Get back to the basics. Training and focus. There’s an element of luck when you win and being prepared is the best luck you can bring to the game.”
Ethan grabbed a couple of napkins and together they sketched out a training schedule. Grueling, Josh thought as he stared at the breakdown, but worth it. He didn’t tell Ethan that winning was the least of it. Right now competing would be enough of a win.
Josh finished the last of his beer. After tonight there wouldn’t be any more drinking. His diet would be as strict as his training schedule. He didn’t have much time to get in the best shape of his life.
He turned his attention back to his friend. “If you weren’t pissed at me, why have you been in a bad mood for the past few years?”
Ethan shrugged. “Why else? A woman.”
“NO ONE WANTS ME THERE,” Charity said, as she sat in the passenger seat of Josh’s car.
“I want you there,” he said.
They were in the parking lot of a local television studio where a reporter from one of the sports networks was going to interview Josh.
While she appreciated the invitation and all, she wasn’t sure how to tell him everything about this situation made her uncomfortable. She knew she and Josh were involved, but this felt too much like being a celebrity girlfriend. Like she was hanging on to get noticed by the media. It reminded her that once Josh started racing again, his world would be totally different from hers.
She angled toward him, intent on explaining. But before she could speak, he said, “I had a fling with her.
Years ago. Right after the divorce.”
It took Charity a second to put the pieces together.
“The reporter?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You had sex with her?”
He nodded, looking chagrined. “Kind of.”
She didn’t know if she should be hurt or annoyed. “Why did you agree to the interview?”
“It was set up by the race committee. They sent me an e-mail and asked me, so I said yes. We need the publicity. I hoped it wouldn’t be Melrose doing the interview, but it is.” He stared at Charity. “I’m not interested in her. What happened before was a mistake.
A really stupid one.”
She could accept that, but she was still confused. “You had to know this could get you in big trouble with me. So why did you risk that and bring me?”
He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze to the window. “She, ah, called to talk to me a couple of days ago. She sounded really happy that we were going to be spending some time together. Too happy.”
If Charity didn’t know better, she would swear there was a hint of fear in Josh’s eyes.
“And?” she prompted.
“I knew it would be awkward. Having you around makes things more clear.”
The annoyance and hurt faded. “You’re scared of her.”
He stiffened. “I’m not scared.”
“You’re terrified.”
“It’s not like that.”
She grinned. “You expect me to protect you.”
“I thought it would be nice if people knew we were together.”
Did he really expect her to believe that? “Josh, you’ve been this famous guy for years. You must have a lot of experience at telling women no.”
“I do, but it’s different now. I don’t go to parties and hang out with Hollywood types.”
“You were great with Emily.”
“That was different.” He stared out the front window. “If you’d rather wait in the car, I understand.”
She could almost hear the pout in his voice. “I’ll come with you,” she said as she opened her door. “And do my best to protect you from the big, bad reporter.”
They walked into the studio and were greeted by a production assistant. She introduced herself as Brittany, looked as if she couldn’t be more than twelve, but showed absolutely no interest in Josh. Refreshing, Charity thought. Unusual, but refreshing.
They walked past the sets used for the local news and the various cable access shows. Brittany pointed to a small area with a green-screen background and two upholstered chairs facing each other.
“You’ll do the interview there. Melrose asked for the green screen so she can load in graphics later.” She glanced at Josh. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, right?”
He nodded.
“Great. The makeup girl wants to pat you down with some powder, but we’re doing a sports interview. No one expects you to be pretty.”
“Oh, but you already are,” Charity whispered.
Josh shot her a glare. She did her best not to laugh.
“She’s in there,” the assistant said, pointing to a door and moving down the hall. “Yell if you need me.”
Josh paused in front of the closed door, but before he could knock, it burst open.
“Finally,” a throaty but feminine voice purred. “If you knew how I’d been counting the hours.”
Josh dropped his hand to Charity’s waist and pushed her in the room first. Charity felt like the sacrificial goat in some pagan ceremony. She stepped into a plain room with a large, well-lit mirror, a few chairs, a sofa and a long counter. But what really caught her attention was the woman standing by the mirror.
She was tall, maybe five-ten or eleven, with flaming red hair that tumbled in loose curls down to the middle of her back. Her body was lean, yet curved in all the right places and breasts the size of melons spilled out of a low-cut blouse.
Melrose wasn’t just beautiful, Charity thought, feeling as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. She was perfect. The boobs didn’t look real, but they suited her. Melrose was a walking, breathing male fantasy. Charity went from sacrificial goat to invisible.
“Josh,” Melrose breathed, crossing the room in two long strides, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth to his.
Charity blinked in astonishment, then touched her own arm to make sure she really was there.
“Melrose,” Josh said, grabbing her wrists and holding her in place while he stepped back. “This is Charity Jones. My girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. Charity hadn’t been expecting that, and tried to figure out if he’d said it because he meant it or if it was a form of self-protection.
“Hello,” Melrose said, never taking her eyes off Josh. “You’re racing again. That’s good. The sport needs someone like you. God knows, I do. I’m staying in town tonight. I have a luscious room at a little B&B by the lake. Big tub, big bed, big fireplace. The interview will air tonight. We can watch it together. Naked. Say yes?”
Charity went from feeling less-than to pissed in a nanosecond. She stepped between Josh and the piranha, held out her right hand and forced a smile.
“Hi,” she said loudly. “I’m Charity.”
“We’ve met,” Melrose said coolly, still staring
hungrily at Josh.
“Apparently not,” Charity told her firmly. “Hey.” She poked Melrose in the chest, right above her left breast. “Look at me.”
Melrose slowly lowered her cool, green gaze. “You didn’t just touch me.”
“I did and I’ll do it again, if I have to. Yes, Josh is very crushworthy. And the sex, as I’m sure you’ll remember, is fantastic. But there’s a line between wanting and being a complete cliché. No offense, Melrose, but you’re not in a prime-time soap. This is real life. And Josh is with me.”
JOSH HAD KNOWN THERE was a risk involved when he’d asked Charity to join him today. But he’d been willing to deal with her being pissed—mostly because Melrose wasn’t the kind of woman who accepted rejection easily. He’d thought having Charity along would make things easier. And he’d have a witness to anything that happened…or didn’t happen. He hadn’t expected her to unleash her inner tiger.
She stood glaring at Melrose, fearless, beautiful and determined. Not many women were willing to take on a powerhouse reporter. Damn, Charity was good.
Melrose looked from Charity to him, then back. “I haven’t heard Josh tell me no.”
“Josh, would you please respond to Melrose’s very graphic invitation?” Charity said.
She didn’t bother to turn around. He liked that she didn’t worry that she had to look at him or give hints as to what he should say.
“No, thanks,” he said. “I’m with Charity.”
“Fine,” Melrose snapped. “Whatever.” She glanced at her watch. “Let’s get this over with. If we hurry, I can still catch a flight out of Sacramento and get the hell out of this pissant town.”
Ten minutes later he was powdered and miked, sitting across from a still annoyed Melrose. But the second the red light went on above the camera, her face relaxed and she smiled.
“I’m here with Josh Golden, who dazzled us for years, winning every major race, including back-to-back victories at the Tour de France.” She turned her gaze to him. “Rumor has it you’re back in the game.”
“I’ve entered a race to be held here, in Fool’s Gold. We’ll see how I do there.”
“Not ready to formally announce you’re returning to the sport you love?”
“No.” He wasn’t ready to do much of anything but get through another practice session without freaking out.
“You were the best,” Melrose reminded him. “Don’t you want a piece of the glory?”
“There’s more to competing than winning.”
“Yes, but none of that really matters, does it?” She smiled knowingly. “I know how you like to come out on top.”
Josh thought about Charity, watching just beyond the bright lights and held in a groan. Melrose was nothing if not persistent. At one time he might have found that intriguing, but not anymore. Now he wanted something different. Someone different. And as soon as the interview was over, he planned to tell her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“DID I THANK YOU FOR coming with me today?” Josh asked.
Charity rested her head on his shoulder. “About fifteen times.”
“Want to make it sixteen?”
They were in his bed, propped up on pillows, watching the sports show. Josh’s interview was next.
“If it makes you happy,” she said. “I’m okay with what happened and I understand why you felt you needed protection.”
“I didn’t need protection.”
She smiled, then kissed his shoulder. “You sure did. Melrose was scary. What were you thinking?”
A stupid question, she told herself. No doubt he’d been thinking that Melrose was beautiful and sexually aggressive and exactly what he needed after a difficult divorce. If she just thought about the ridiculous exchange they’d all had at the studio, she was fine, but if she allowed herself to actually dwell on the idea of Melrose and Josh in bed together, she started to freak.
She didn’t need ongoing proof that they were from different worlds and possibly headed in different directions.
She didn’t want that, she thought. But if Josh did, then that’s what he should do.
The show host announced the interview, doing a quick introduction, then the screen switched to the recording of Josh with Melrose.
“I’m here with Josh Golden, who dazzled us for years, winning every major race, including back-to-back victories at the Tour de France.”
Charity had seen the whole thing happening live, but it was worse on the flat-screen TV. “Oh my God! She wants to have sex with you. I knew it before, but you can see it in her eyes. The way she looks at you.”
Josh reached for the remote. “I can’t watch this.” He clicked off the TV. “I’ll get feedback tomorrow. Steve, my former coach, will let me know how it went.”
“He’ll probably want to know if you’re current on your shots.”
Josh rolled toward her and grinned. “Someone’s being defensive.”
“Apparently someone needs to stand between you and every single woman on the planet. I’m not sure if I should find this funny or have a total freakout.”
“Do I get a vote?”
She stared into his hazel-green eyes, then lightly touched his cheek. “I’m laughing on the inside. Did stuff like this really happen all the time?”
He hesitated. “Some. Before I was married. I was young and willing and so were they.”
She wondered if he could give an approximate count on the “they.” A hundred? A thousand? Did she want to know?
“Once I got into a relationship, the rules changed. I’m always faithful.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Never cheated once. I wasn’t tempted. I always figured if I was interested in someone enough to want to sleep with her, then there were problems with my current relationship. So I either fixed those or ended things. I was faithful during my marriage, and even during the divorce. I waited until the paperwork was signed.” He grimaced. “Angelique didn’t share my reticence.”
“She screwed up big time letting you go.”
He smiled. “Thanks for saying that, but she wouldn’t believe you. It worked out for the best. We never would have lasted. She wanted what I was. The guy on the cereal box with a bestselling poster. She wanted our names in the tabloids, photographers following us. I wanted something different.”
“You were followed by photographers?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted, putting his hand on her waist. She felt the warmth of his fingers through the oversized T-shirt she wore. “There are ways around that sort of thing. Live a normal life and for the most part they ignore you.”
“So what was the best part of your former life?”
He thought for a second. “Being on a team. Working hard, then kicking ass in a race. Waiting for the ranking, wanting to be number one and knowing if I wasn’t I would have to work harder. Sometimes I miss the screaming fans, but not as much as everything else. Mostly I miss being that guy.”
“You’re still that guy.” She thought about what he’d said. “What about all the travel? Not having a home?”
“Fool’s Gold is home.”
“You weren’t here much.”
“I didn’t have to be here to know I belonged.”
Probably because he’d grown up here. He could take the relationship, so to speak, for granted. But it wasn’t like that for her. She wanted permanent roots, ones she could see. She wanted to wake up in the same bed every day knowing that she would continue to wake up there year after year. The only changes she wanted were paint colors and carpeting.
“Will you go back?” she asked. “After the race, if it goes well?”
“I don’t know.” He smiled at her. “Whatever happens, this will be my home, Charity. I’m not running from you.”
“I didn’t think you were. You’re the type to run to something, not from it. Do you think about what it would be like now?”
“Some. I’d be different. Not take any of it for granted. There’s somethi
ng to be said for wisdom, but I’m not sure it can completely make up for being older. A comeback would require a huge commitment.”
He continued talking about the “what ifs” of racing. If he was able to compete and if he did well. He didn’t mention winning because that was to challenge the gods.
Charity listened and did her best to be supportive, but in her heart, she felt the first whisper of a chill. The coldness surprised her. Didn’t she care enough about Josh to want him to be happy?
She already knew the answer to that, and wondered if it was something else. Something far more frightening than being selfish. As she turned over the possibilities, one of them became more clear than the others. A truth she couldn’t avoid.
She was in love with Josh.
Life was nothing if not ironic. She was in love with a man who made his living moving at top speed, when she only wanted to stay in one place. She’d done her best to avoid her mother’s trap, and here she was, completely caught.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Just thinking about your future.”
“Not a very interesting topic.”
“It could be. Imagine if you do well during the race. You’ll have it all.”
He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, but she knew otherwise. Josh would never be happy just being a regular guy. He was someone who needed the roar of the crowd, and she was just one person.
BERNIE JACKSON HELD A meeting on Monday, to bring everyone up to speed on the investigation. Charity spent the first few minutes doing her best not to let her newly discovered dislike of attractive redheads get in the way of paying attention. She reminded herself it wasn’t Bernie’s fault she had a more than passing resemblance to a barracuda-like reporter.
“We’ve tracked the money from the state to here,” Bernie explained. “We have copies of the cleared checks. They show the city stamp and apparently passed through the city account. However, there are no records of a deposit and even more troubling, no records of a withdrawal.”
“Do you think someone went back and removed the items from the computer?” Marsha asked. “The deposit and the withdrawal?”
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