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She didn’t know him well enough to take him to task for his lack of knowledge about someone he’d shared his home with for twenty-four months.
* * *
Cord knew what Piper thought. Truth be told, he couldn’t actually blame her. He’d done a crappy job of trying to raise Renee for the past two years. Part of that was due to his complete and utter unpreparedness and lack of experience.
The other part, the one he had trouble admitting even to himself, was from the instant he’d met the troubled sixteen-year-old, she’d reminded him of his sister, Denice. If Renee went down the same path as Denice had, Cord knew it would kill him.
He’d tried. By all that was holy, he’d tried. Every mistake he’d made—and there’d been plenty—he’d tried to rectify.
While he knew Piper wasn’t judging him, hearing his own answers to her innocuous questions had made him inwardly cringe.
“Let’s focus on you now,” he said, aware changing the subject wouldn’t make his errors go away. “You say you were framed?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have many enemies?”
Startled, she considered. “I never thought about that before. It’s possible. I do tend to be outspoken about what I feel is right. Not everyone agrees with me.”
“Let’s narrow that down. Anyone get angry with you recently?”
“Fowler and Marceline, but that’s nothing unusual, I can barely breathe without annoying one or the other, Marceline especially. She likes to harp on the fact that I’m not a real Colton.” She spoke matter-of-factly, simply because that’s the way it had always been for as long as she could remember.
“I remember,” he said, his expression inscrutable. “She did that even when we were all kids. What I never could figure out is why. It’s not like she was born a Colton, either.”
Secretly pleased, Piper looked down at her hands to hide her smile. “Yeah, the logic she used never failed to amaze me.”
“Anyone else?” he pressed. “Figuring out who tried to frame you would be a step in making sure you’re acquitted.”
“I’ll think about it and make you a list.” Though she’d only been half-serious, he nodded.
“You do that. Knowing who to investigate will put us that much closer to finding out who’s trying to frame you.”
The simple statement, made in such a matter-of-fact tone, floored her. Probably because after Fowler and Marceline’s accusations, the idea that this man, whom she barely knew, actually believed her, made her feel weepy and joyful all at once.
“Thank you,” she told him. “I’ll get busy on that right away.”
“Here.” Handing her a pad of paper and a pen, he smiled. The masculine sensuality of that smile made her heart skip. “While you do that, I’ve got some chores to complete.”
“It shouldn’t take too long. I don’t think I have too many enemies.”
He laughed. “Once you get to thinking about it, it might surprise you.”
And he left. Leaving her staring at a blank piece of paper trying to figure out who might hate her enough to frame her.
* * *
Piper Colton had no idea of the power of her own beauty, Cord thought as he trudged out to the barn. He’d known other beautiful women before and without exception, every move, every smile or glance, had been carefully and artfully calculated to show their attributes off to the best advantage. Piper, on the other hand, appeared genuine. Sweet and kind. And sexy as hell.
He considered himself lucky he had chores to keep his mind off where it didn’t belong.
The wind had shifted to the north, bringing a chill. He brought the horses into the barn first, making sure they were snug in their stalls. Then he rounded up his goats and put them all in one stall. After they’d all been fed, he refilled the watering troughs and left them bunkered down.
Before heading in, he grabbed a bundle of firewood to take inside with him.
Piper sat where he’d left her, legs tucked up under her, pad and pen in hand.
“No luck so far,” she announced, then eyed him. “What do you have there?”
“A cold front is coming in. They’re predicting the first freeze of the season,” he said, dropping his load on the brick hearth. He went outside for one more. She watched him as he placed his load in the small stack.
“Are we going to have a fire?”
He had to grin at the hint of excitement in her voice. “Sure, why not? The forecast says it’ll drop down to around 25 degrees. Definitely fire-in-the-fireplace weather.”
She grinned back. “Can you light it now?”
Momentarily captivated by the way her smile lit up her heart-shaped face, it took him a second to formulate a single-word answer. “Sure.”
Once he had a nice blaze going, he straightened. The orange glow from the fire bathed the entire room—and Piper—in a warm, mellow light.
He was suddenly aware of exactly how cozy—or to borrow her word from before, intimate—a simple thing as a fire on a cold winter’s night could be.
Only if he let it.
“Now, the only thing that could make this more perfect would be a cup of hot cocoa,” she sighed. When she wrinkled her nose at him, he knew he was in trouble.
“I bet I have some instant cocoa somewhere,” he managed. “Let me go see.” And he beat a hasty retreat from the room.
Once in the brightly lit (and non-cozy) kitchen, he gulped in air. What the hell? It wasn’t like he’d never had a woman over his house before. He’d had more than a few girlfriends here since he’d bought the place. Just none of them had ever affected him the way Piper did.
Which was not only weird, but worrisome. Very, very dangerous to his equilibrium. What was left of it. The last two years had been a roller coaster of ups and downs. He’d just gotten his act together when Sam died. After that he’d faced Denice’s death and becoming the legal guardian of a rebellious sixteen-year-old.
It seemed he’d barely adjusted, his life finally evening out when Renee took off. The last thing he needed would be to form any kind of attachment to Piper Colton, whether emotional or sexual.
While he placed the teakettle on the stove top to heat the water and emptied the little packets of cocoa into mugs, he reminded himself that she was his bounty. Or a client. Actually, both. Either way, she was off-limits.
The kettle whistled and he poured the water into the cocoa powder, stirring. He didn’t have any whipped cream on hand since the only time he bothered to buy that was for pies. Plain old cocoa would have to do.
He carried the mugs back into the living room and placed one down on the table in front of her. “Cheers,” he said, raising his in a mock salute.
Her smile caused something to twist in his gut. “Cheers,” she replied. “Thank you for making the cocoa.”
“You’re welcome.” Placing his mug on the hearth, he pretended to fiddle with the logs and the fire so he wouldn’t start grinning like an idiot.
“I’ve been working on a plan,” she said, offhandedly scratching a pleased Truman behind his ears.
Surprised, he glanced back at her over his shoulder. She lifted a spiral notebook to show him. “Just some ideas at this point.”
“Ideas of who might have actually killed Eldridge or where he might be?”
“No.” She shook her head. “About places we might look for Renee.”
“Seriously?” To keep himself occupied, he grabbed his mug and chugged some of his cocoa. The instant he did, he realized his mistake. Too hot. Somehow he managed to swallow, inwardly cursing the burn on his tongue.
Piper didn’t appear to notice. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I figured you’d want to work on your stuff first.” He shrugged, and then took another, more careful, sip.
“I thought we could do both.” Patting the coach cushion next to her, she opened her notebook. “Come sit. Let’s go over these notes.”
As he debated the dubious wisdom of sitting so close to her, the doorbell rang. Truman immediately leaped to his feet and charged the door, barking.
“Truman, come,” Cord ordered. Once Truman had reluctantly complied, Cord gave him the hand signal for sit and then stay. Piper watched, her expression amazed.
Now that the barking had quieted, Cord checked the peephole. “Fowler,” he said out loud.
Piper gasped, jumping from the couch so quickly she nearly spilled her cocoa. She fled, heading toward her room. Cord waited until he heard her door close before he opened the front door.
Chapter 4 (#uc6111703-98db-51c9-9766-eac92abc89a0)
“What are you doing here?” Cord demanded, blocking the entrance so Fowler would have no choice but to remain on the front stoop.
Fowler peered at him, swaying slightly. He wore his usual suit, though his tie had been loosened. “I thought I’d check to see if you’d made any progress.”
Was that a slight slurring of his words? Not that it was any of his business, but as far as Cord knew, Fowler didn’t drink.
“This is my home.” Cord kept his tone firm. “It’s after nine p.m. If you want to discuss business, you’ll need to stop by my office during business hours. I’d suggest you call first and make an appointment since I’m often out on the road.”
None of his words appeared to register. “I know.” Fowler gave him a lopsided grin. “But we were passing right by here and I decided to stop in and check with you.”
We?
“Have you been drinking?” Peering around the other man, Cord tried to find Fowler’s car. There it was, blocking his driveway. He couldn’t tell if there was someone else inside or not.
“I have. But I’m not driving. Tiffany is. And she doesn’t drink.”
The difference from the uptight, overbearing businessman to this inebriated, regular guy made Cord wonder if he’d misjudged the other man. Either way, he knew he couldn’t let Fowler inside the house.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Cord began closing the door. To his annoyance, Fowler stuck one foot, clad in expensive Italian leather, in the way.
“I’d suggest you move that foot,” Cord warned him. “It might hurt if I stomp on it or slam the door with it still inside. You might even sustain a broken bone or two.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” There. That pompous tone was 100 percent the Fowler everyone loved to hate.
“Try me.” Cord checked his watch. “I’m going to count to three and then the door is going to close. One.”
“You work for me,” Fowler declared, his expression a strange combination of pinched and sloppy. “I demand you give me a status update.”
“Demand? Wrong choice of words. I’m not on the payroll 24/7. Two.”
“Damn you.”
“Three.”
Fowler jerked his foot back so hard he stumbled. Cord slammed the door, secured the dead bolt and took a deep breath. He peered through the blinds, wanting to make sure the other man actually left.
Only once he’d witnessed Fowler climbing into the passenger side of the car did he go and fetch Piper, Truman tagging along behind him.
Tapping lightly on her bedroom door, he turned the knob and peered inside. “He’s gone.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. She sat perched on the edge of the bed as if about to take flight, her face pale. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I sent him away.” As he took a step into the room, he realized she was trembling. Damn. “Are you all right?” This was so unlike the brash, confident Piper he’d begun to know, it worried him.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
One more step closer. “You don’t look fine.”
At that, she jumped to her feet. “All right, I’m not. As soon as I realized Fowler was here, I figured you’d give me up.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you work for him.” The way she spoke made him realize she’d clenched her teeth.
“True. But I already told you I wasn’t about to turn you over just yet, remember? Legally, since you haven’t missed your court date yet, I don’t have to. I don’t go back on my word. I told Fowler you’d be back before your court date. You agreed to this. We’re good.”
She shook her head, hands clenched into fists at her ides. “Tell me the truth. Is Fowler out there waiting for me?”
Though he knew he should keep his distance, he took yet one final step, stopping a few feet from her. “Let’s get one thing straight between us, Piper Colton. I’m a man of my word. I don’t lie. If I tell you he’s gone, he’s gone.”
At his words she made an angry puff of sound before she spun and stalked to the other side of the room, away from him. Truman the traitor followed her, tail wagging. She reached down and petted the dog, scratching just above his collar. “You’ve just contradicted yourself. If you don’t lie, how’d you get Fowler to leave?”
Though damned if he didn’t feel he were hunting her, he followed. “He didn’t ask if I’d found you or if you were here. He demanded a status report, which I refused to give him. Nothing but the truth. That’s the one thing you can always count on from me.”
“Braggart.”
Not sure he’d heard correctly, he stared. “What?”
“I called you a braggart.” She tilted her head as she eyed him, and he wondered if she truly was daring him to defend himself. Damn, she was beautiful, with that heart-shaped face, her emerald eyed fringed with thick black lashes and her spiky blond hair tinged with hot pink. Sexy, too.
Whatever her intention, her words coaxed a reluctant smile from him. “It’s the truth,” he insisted, merely because he wanted to see what she’d do next. “I never lie.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
She circled him, keeping several feet between them.
Truman sat, watching her curiously. “That must make life difficult for you sometimes.”
