Fool for Love (32 page)

Guilt ate at her gut worse than the hangover.

Flicking on the coffeemaker and lowering the heat on the skillet, she rushed into the living room and fished her phone out of her purse. Her heart sank a little when she got his answering machine, but regardless, she left a heartfelt message: “Hi, Daddy. Call me when you get this. We need to talk.”

*   *   *

Devlin blew into J.T.’s at 9:30 a.m., a half hour after the doors opened for business, two and a half hours past his normal arrival time. Normally, he would have been on edge, pissed because he’d missed the additional time to cram numbers and review reports. Instead he was relaxed, optimistic, and heart over head for Chloe Madison. Luke was right. She wasn’t Janna.

Yes, they were both reckless free spirits who courted trouble and both possessed irresistible sex appeal, but the similarities ended there. Janna had lacked depth and selflessness. Chloe was complex and sensitive to feelings and plights other than her own. She’d only been in Sugar Creek a short time and she’d already shown more genuine concern for his family than Janna had over their rocky two-year courtship and six-month marriage. Whereas Janna paid lip service, Chloe took action. Her devotion to Gram was just one of the things that seduced his cynical soul. The fact that Chloe cooked like Cat Cora of Food Network fame was a bonus. He wasn’t sure which lingered in his mind more, the sight of Chloe making herself at home in his kitchen this morning or the incredible taste of the full breakfast she’d made utilizing what little he’d had in the fridge.

Nodding and smiling to the employees who greeted him, Devlin breezed through the nearly deserted first floor of the department store counting his blessings, including this morning’s encouraging phone calls with Gram (
Doc said he’ll spring me in two days!
) and his dad (
At this rate
,
I’ll be home by Christmas
). Not even the present rainstorm, the fourth in a week, or the gloomy expression on his approaching assistant manager’s face could dampen Devlin’s spirits. “Good morning, Chris.”

“I don’t know about good,” the man said as he fell in beside Devlin. “Although it could be worse.”

“What’s wrong?”

“For one, the toilets in the public ladies’ room overflowed. I put an
Out of order
sign on the door, sent in the janitor-on-duty, and called the plumber.”

“Perfect. Next?”

“Gemma’s Bakery bailed on catering the employee meeting tonight.”

“Why?”

“Closed for business.”

“Since when?”

“Since this morning.”

“No advance notice?”

Chris shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Curious but nonplussed, Devlin scaled the stairs to his second-floor office. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call Luke, get the Shack to send over desserts and coffee. Anything else?”

“Yeah.”

Devlin placed his briefcase on the desk, shrugged out of his drenched jacket, and fired up his laptop. Meanwhile, his second-in-command hovered on the threshold, weighing his words. “Just spit it out, Chris.”

“Ceiling leak, third floor, men’s department.”

“Water damage?”

“Moderate. I’ve got a crew on it.”

Devlin’s first impulse was to rush to the scene and evaluate. Instead he sat down and opened his briefcase. “Sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

“Yeah, but…”

“What?”

“Don’t you want to supervise?”

Devlin glanced up. “Do you need me to?”

“Not really, but that’s never stopped you before.”

He laughed at that. “True.”

Hands on hips, Chris shifted his weight, angled his head. “You’re awfully … relaxed. You get laid or something last night?”

“No. But I did get a life.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I trust your judgment and skill.” Not that he’d exhibited that trust over the past few months. No, as was his style, and just like his dad, Devlin micromanaged even the most capable people. His most irritating quality, according to friends and family, and part of the reason he had no social life. Who had time? If he’d learned anything this past week, it was that life was too short. “Thank you for troubleshooting this morning, Chris.”

The man puffed out his chest and smiled. “Just doing my job.” He turned, then paused and looked back at Devlin. “But you are going to check in later. Assess the damage control.”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t be doing
my
job.”

Chris nodded. “Just wanted to make sure getting a life didn’t entail leaving J.T.’s. I know you’ve been at odds with your dad.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” At least not until his dad returned and took back the reins. Devlin would gladly step aside when that day came. The sooner, the better. Mostly because it would mean his dad was in good health. Partly because it would enable Devlin to pursue alternate opportunities and maybe an adventure or two. Preferably with Chloe.

Although … he wouldn’t be doing anything or going anywhere until he’d secured the loyalties of J.T.’s crack sales and management team. He’d reviewed the file listing the various health and wellness packages offered by VT Med and he’d sold his dad on offering employees the chance to personalize their benefits package—at minimal cost to J.T.’s. What Devlin had failed to do was gain his dad’s approval regarding incentive bonuses, something he said the company couldn’t afford.

But Devlin could. He’d set those wheels in motion days ago. Curious as to the present status of his strategic planning, he’d signed onto the Internet and into his stock portfolio.

At the same time his door creaked open and Rocky stepped in. “I need to talk to you.”

Something personal, he assumed, since she actually shut the door behind her. Something troubling, because, instead of flopping into a chair, she paced.

“If this is about Jayce—”

She stopped cold, fists clenched at her sides. “Why would you think that? What did he say about me?”

“Nothing. Other than telling me you run a damn nice inn. You’re the one who’s been bent out of shape since he came to town. Not him.” As Devlin noted her flushed cheeks and anxious tone, something itched at the back of his brain. He stepped out of his sibling shoes for a second and regarded Rocky as a woman, remembered how Jayce had described Chloe from an outdated picture—blond hair, kick-ass curves. His typical type. Rocky to a T. Was it possible? Had Jayce made some sort of unwanted advance? Paid her a colorful comment? Or maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe Rocky had expressed interest and Jayce had rejected her advances. That made more sense, since Devlin couldn’t imagine his best friend taking advantage of his little sister. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something told him Rocky’s current distress revolved around sex. Feigning nonchalance, he leaned back in his chair. “Something you want to tell me?”

“I’ve been having an affair with Adam Brody.”

Well, hell.

“Okay, not an affair exactly. More like a fling. Although that sounds too passionate. We weren’t in love or anything; it was just, you know, casual sex.”

Devlin’s first thought was,
Thank God it wasn’t Jayce.
Then Devlin zoned in on the “casual” aspect. He would’ve preferred a passionate affair. Yes, his sister was a grown woman. Yes, she was single and available. But thinking about her indulging in ongoing
casual sex,
as in friends with benefits, with a guy Luke had gone to high school with no less, made Devlin’s head ache. “So, what? Jayce caught you two together and gave you some sort of lecture on responsible sex?”

“What?
No!
” Her eyes blazed as she resumed her heated pacing. “Would you forget about Jayce? This is about me and Adam. I’m only telling you because things got weird, not in a bad way, but I ended up breaking off with him.”

“Because he was a jerk?”

“Because he was a nice guy.”

Devlin searched his drawer for a bottle of Tylenol.

“I wouldn’t have said anything at all, but I spoke to my lawyer and loan officer about entering into a possible partnership with Adam, although I don’t think I mentioned his name, and, given this is a small town and you’ve got big ears, I figured you’d hear about it and grill me, so I decided to get it out in the open and over with.”

Did she even breathe during that daylong sentence?

“Bottom line: The Red Clover’s
my
dream. I don’t want to share it with Adam or anyone else, but I do need help.” She finally stopped and looked Devlin in the eyes. “Your help.”

Just when he’d made a personal pledge not to interfere with his friends’ and family’s lives.

The irony.

His brain burst with ideas on how to steer Rocky toward a more lucrative and stable future. Instead, he invited her to sit down and absorbed her fierce though wounded spirit. “How can I help?”

THIRTY

Being summoned to Tasha Burke’s home had caught Chloe off guard, but she’d readily agreed, determined to champion Daisy on any battleground. What Chloe hadn’t counted on was a thirty-minute rural drive through yet another torrential downpour.

Fingers aching from the white-knuckled journey, she pulled the Caddy into the long and winding private lane of the huge and majestic Burke country estate, beyond relieved that she’d finally reached her destination.

Rolling back tense shoulders, Chloe squinted through the veil of silvery rain at the rolling meadows, spectacular mountains, and what looked to be an apple orchard. Beyond a rippling pond and an elegant white gazebo, she noted stylish stables and fenced pastures. She easily imagined thoroughbred horses tucked in their stalls, protected from the storm. The house itself was more of a sprawling mansion—a modernized farmhouse surrounded by rambling stone walls. Clearly, Burke Farm (
established in 1891,
as was advertised by the sign at the entrance of the drive) was worth millions.

Now Chloe understood why Tasha had insisted on meeting in person as opposed to discussing the photo shoot over the phone or through texts or e-mails. She hoped to intimidate Chloe. Thing was, she had never been intimidated by wealth or prestige. She’d grown up the daughter of a rich and influential man. And since her mom had been down-to-earth, Chloe had never considered herself superior to those who had less. People were people in her book, and Tasha Burke was just another character in her colorful life.

Still, she took a moment to gather her wits, reflecting on the whirlwind morning and bracing for the unknown.

Breakfast with Devlin had been quick but invigorating, full of meaningful looks and sexually charged silence, ending with an agreement to dine at the Sugar Shack later that night. An honest-to-God
date
. The anticipation had worked like a miracle drug on her hangover, buzzing through her veins even now.

After he’d dropped her back at Daisy’s house, Chloe had showered and changed into a cheery dress in protest of the dismal weather. Not even a fourth day of rain could dampen her elated spirits. Refreshed and ready for battle, she’d checked her texts, phone messages, and e-mails. To her disappointment, her dad had yet to return her call, but she’d heard back from most of the members of Cupcake Lovers, catching up with Ethel, Helen, and Judy via early-morning phone calls. Everyone agreed that they didn’t want to send off the proposal without a professional shot of Daisy. Unfortunately, Tasha had countered with an e-mail specifying an urgent rush from the editor, something about a window of opportunity. Tasha had said not to worry. She had a plan for including Daisy in the photo portion of the submission. Tasha had followed up with a personal e-mail to Chloe, which had led to this moment.

Wary, Chloe eyed the house. “What do you have up your sleeve, Madam Prez?” The rain eased from a downpour to a drizzle, and she seized her own window of opportunity. She pocketed the car keys, snapped shut the rain slicker she’d borrowed from Daisy’s coat closet, pulled up the hood, and dashed for the front porch.

She half-expected a maid or a butler to greet her, but it was Tasha who swung open the door. Perfectly coiffed, dressed in skinny jeans, a crisp white shirt, and red heels, she noted Chloe’s soaked and colorful appearance with an amused smirk. “Nice getup.”

Chloe just smiled. “Thanks.” In addition to the blue and yellow polka-dot slicker, she’d also borrowed her soul sister’s neon-pink rubber boots. Daisy couldn’t be here, so Chloe had brought a bit of Daisy with her.

Tasha opened the door wider and beckoned Chloe inside.

Chloe pushed back her hood, swiped her muddy, treaded souls on the welcome mat, then moved into the spacious farmhouse. In addition to the prestige Tasha had won by marrying an influential and obviously wealthy man, she’d also inherited this incredible home. Chloe tried not to gawk at the warm and stunning interior. She’d expected stunning, but the warm aspect was surprising, since Tasha was pretty much a cold fish. Maybe the house had been decorated by the previous Mrs. Burke. Maybe Randall Burke, thirty years his new wife’s senior and set in old ways, had stonewalled any renovations. Why else wouldn’t Tasha make her own mark?

“I’d offer to take your coat, but you won’t be staying long.”

Chloe blinked at the woman’s rudeness.

“Time is of the essence,” she went on.

“So you said in your e-mail.”

“You were a fashion photographer, right?”

“Who told you that?”

“Dev.”

Chloe shifted, bothered by the intimate way Tasha spoke his name. Bothered because she didn’t recall telling him about her short stint as a
fashion
photographer. Maybe he’d learned about that from Monica or Daisy?

“Are you or aren’t you proficient with a digital camera?” Tasha asked.

“Depends on the camera.”

Tasha moved into the next room and returned seconds later with a bells-and-whistles Canon Digital SLR. “Randall bought this for me for Christmas. Don’t break it. I’ll get the cupcakes.”

What?
“Wait—” But the woman was already gone. Clueless and chilled, Chloe stood in the foyer, mere inches from a cozy, inviting living room, dripping rain and holding a cold fish’s camera.