Chasing Perfect (20 page)

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.”

 

J
OSH 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. Some
one
different. And as soon as the interview was over, he planned to tell her.

“D
ID
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 something 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.

 

B
ERNIE
J
ACKSON 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?”

“Possibly,” Bernie said. “But what about the bank? It doesn't show the money going in or out, which means it went into another account.”

“Do we know if it even arrived here in town?” Charity asked. “The check could have been intercepted in Sacramento or before it physically arrived here. It was a paper check, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” Bernie said. “If it never arrived here, then whoever is perpetrating the fraud is going to be harder to find. But based on what I know so far, that seems a fairly likely explanation. I've contacted other communities to find out if anyone else is having the same problem.”

“I don't like it,” Chief Barns said. “I like criminals who do their dirty work out where someone can see.”

“That would make things simpler,” Bernie agreed.

She discussed the rest of her investigation, took a few more questions, then the meeting ended. Charity found herself walking with Robert back to their floor.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Okay. People are still looking at me funny. I'm living with it. Bernie's told me privately that she should have me completely cleared in a couple of weeks.” He grimaced. “I've given her complete access to my financial records. Checking and saving accounts, my retirement account. All of it.”

“I'm sorry you're having to deal with all this,” she said.

“It'll pass. Things will get back to normal.” He paused by her office. “I just want her to catch the bastard who's doing this.”

“So does the chief.”

“I think she's happiest when she's arresting someone.”

“Everyone needs a moment of joy in his or her life.”

Robert shuffled his feet. “Are you… How are things going with Josh?”

Not a question she wanted to answer, she thought, wishing this were easier. “Good.”

“You really like him, don't you?”

As she was sure being in love fell very close to “really liking” she had no problem nodding.

“Too bad.” He turned and walked away.

Another downside of small-town life, she thought. There was no way to escape seeing Robert. Working with him didn't make matters easier. She could only hope he would find someone who could appreciate his niceness, along with his little quirks.

 

W
EDNESDAY AFTER WORK
, Charity headed out on an errand she'd been rescheduling for some time. She liked her new and improved wardrobe, which was great, but now she had to deal with her hair.

She'd been wearing it exactly the same way since she graduated from high school. Blown dry, so no hint of her natural waves showed, parted in the middle, hanging just below her shoulders. Some days she pulled it back in a French braid. Other days she wore it up. Occasionally it was loose. But there wasn't anything stylish about it and the color was a boring medium brown. It was time for a change.

She'd asked around for recommendations and had been given two names. Sisters who were in competition with each other. Pia had warned her she would have to alternate between the two unless she wanted people to think she was taking sides. When Charity had asked what the fight was about, Pia couldn't say for sure, which was part of the problem. No one really knew, which made staying out of trouble that much harder.

But they were the best hairstylists in town, so Charity had randomly chosen Julia's salon—Chez
Julia—not to be confused with her sister's establishment, the House of Bella.

“You're the one who wanted to live in a small town,” Charity reminded herself as she walked toward the bright blue building. There were posters of hair models in the window, a lush garden out front and a porch with a rocking chair.

She stepped into the surprisingly large salon. There were about ten stations lined up along two walls. The windows provided a lot of natural light. The main colors were a deep brown, from the wood at the stations, and turquoise. The walls were a rich blue-green up to the chair rail, then cream to the ceiling. The tile floor was done in a dozen shades of turquoise. Soft music played in the background, the place was spotless and had an air of relaxed elegance. Under any other circumstances, Charity would have been pleased with her find.

Instead she found herself feeling trapped as everyone in the salon turned to look at her, then didn't look away. It was as if they knew who she was—which they probably did.

An attractive woman in her forties hurried toward her. “Charity,” she said. “You're my four-thirty. I'm Julia. So nice to meet you.”

“Hi.”

Julia glanced behind and made a shooing motion, then returned her attention to Charity. “Ignore them. I do.”

Charity managed a smile. “Just like being the new girl in school.”

“I know. But it will get better, I promise.” Julia smiled. “Now, I have you down for highlights and a cut. Come have a seat and tell me what you were thinking of doing.”

Charity followed her to a station in the back. She sat in the padded chair and faced herself in the mirror. Julia stood behind her, waiting.

“I want something different,” Charity told her. “I've been wearing my hair at the same length, in relatively the same style, for years. The color needs help, too.”

Julia ran her hands through Charity's hair. “Very thick,” she murmured. “Do you have a wave?”

“Sort of. I control it with blow drying.”

“About how much time are you willing to spend in the morning?”

“Not more than fifteen minutes. I don't have the patience for it.”

“Good to know.” Julia tilted her head. “We'll do subtle highlights? Nothing too obvious. Just enough to give you a little depth.”

“That sounds great.”

“And for the cut, I'm thinking a blunt longish bob, with bangs.”

Charity blinked. “Bangs?”

Julia dropped her hands to Charity's shoulders and squeezed. “Trust me.”

By now conversation had resumed around them. Charity decided to simply go with the flow. Hair grew. If she didn't like the new style, eventually she could go back to what she'd been doing before.

Julia left her with a couple of magazines and went off to mix color. A few minutes later, Charity was covered in a plastic cape while Julia expertly applied color to a few strands of hair, then carefully wrapped them in foil.

“How are you settling in to living here?” Julia asked. “It's been a few months.”

“I really like it. I've never lived in a small town before. The adjustment has been fun.”

“What's Josh like in bed?” a woman in pink curlers yelled from across the room.

Conversation stopped. For a second there was only the sound of the soft music. Once again everyone was staring at Charity.