Scent of Roses (8 page)

She smiled. “Hi, Zach. Don't forget to sign in.”

“I won't. Thanks, Ellie.” He penned his name and the date and started across the well-appointed lobby down the hall, passing a long line of rooms filled with the elderly. The place was very nice, compared to the kind of rest homes he had read about. No more than two occupants to a room, some of them private, like his father's. After the terrible fall Fletcher Harcourt had suffered, he'd been brought to Willow Glen to recover as soon as he'd been released from the hospital.

Zach had wanted him to have in-home nursing so that he could live in his own house, but Carson believed he should stay in the nursing home where he could receive more professional care. Since Carson was the eldest, according to provisions in their father's will, he was named conservator of all of Fletcher Harcourt's holdings, including the farm and any decisions to do with his health care.

Zach had argued, but Carson had the final say, and their dad had stayed in the home.

Just one more thing to dislike about his brother.

Zach made his way along the hall, glancing into the rooms along the way, until he came to C-14 in the west wing. He recognized the woman walking out of a room just a few doors down and paused there in the hall.

“Hello, Liz.”

She looked up at the sound of her name, came to an abrupt stop in front of him.

“Zachary…” She looked back over her shoulder. “You're here to see your father?”

He nodded. “I come by whenever I'm in town. What about you?”

“I'm doing a teaching series for the nursing staff.”

“Subject?”

“Geriatric Psychology. Basically, it involves teaching techniques to deal with the elderly.”

“Sounds useful.”

“Every little bit helps.” She turned toward the open door. “I knew your father was in here. I hope he's doing all right.”

“His condition stays pretty much the same. His legs don't work quite right. There's some kind of problem getting signals from the brain. He doesn't talk much. When he does, he remembers bits and pieces from the past, which he gets mixed up with the present. Nothing about the accident or much about things that have happened since then.”

“I heard about the accident when it happened. He took a fall down the stairs, right? My dad was still alive back then and my sister still lived here. She and her husband moved to San Francisco in March.”

“Tracy, isn't it?”

She nodded. “Tracy's a couple years younger.” She looked past him through the doorway to the form on the bed, lying beneath the sheets. “Such a terrible waste. Your father always seemed such a vital man.”

“He could be a real bastard at times. But mostly he was good to me. I owe him a lot. More than I could ever repay.”

“Is there…is there any chance he'll get better?”

He looked at the man on the bed. “The doctors still hold out hope for him. They say technology is always improving. They say there's work being done that might allow them to operate, remove the bits of bone that are pressing into his brain. I keep hoping. All of us do.”

Liz looked at him, studying him as if he were a specimen under a glass. “You're a surprising man, Zach. You're here to see your father. Sam says you founded Teen Vision. You've conquered your drug and alcohol problems and you're a successful lawyer. You're also rude and overbearing and irritating as hell. I can't seem to figure you out.”

Zach grinned. “It's encouraging to know you're trying. Why don't we go out to dinner and you can have another go at it?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah, I know. You're busy.”

For a moment, she glanced away. “Look, I'd better get going. I've got a lot to do back at my office.” She turned and started walking.

“Liz?”

She stopped, slowly turned to face him.

“If you won't go to out dinner with me, how about lunch?”

She didn't answer for so long his palms began to sweat.
Jesus.
The last time a woman did that to him he was in high school.

“When?” she asked and his heart kicked up just like it used to back then.

“How about today? It's already eleven o'clock. You've got to eat and so do I. We can meet at noon, after I've had a little time to spend with my father.”

“All right, but if you say Marge's, the deal is off.”

He laughed. “I was thinking The Ranch House. They've got a pretty decent lunch menu.”

“Fine. I'll meet you at The Ranch House at one.” She started walking again.

“One is fine. One is great. I'll see you there.” Zach watched her turn the corner and disappear out of sight. She looked different today, all business in a simple coral suit with a plain white, open-collared blouse.

He dried his damp palms on his slacks, his heartbeat once more under control. It was crazy. Women didn't make him nervous. If anything, it was the other way around. Maybe it was some weird psychological hang-up left over from the big-time brush-off she had given him in high school.

Must be, he told himself. Still, he planned to meet her, and as he walked into his father's room, it bothered him to realize how much he was looking forward to it.

E
lizabeth shoved through the door of The Ranch House at exactly 1:00 p.m. She was always on time. Her schedule was too tight not to be. Besides, she'd always felt being late was rude.

Surprisingly, Zach was already there, sitting on a bench in the foyer, not pulling the I'm-such-a-busy-guy-I-can-barely-squeeze-you-in routine that a lot of attorneys seemed to do. He looked good. Too darned good. He was fit and trim, his skin tanned from serious hard work instead of a tanning bed. He had thick, nearly black hair that waved just a little and a face as handsome as sin.

He dressed well—a short-sleeved yellow oxford cloth shirt with light beige slacks and Italian loafers. He looked great in his clothes, sophisticated as she had never imagined the ruffian in studded black leather she had known in high school would ever manage.

And yet something of that hard-edged youth remained. It was there in the line of his jaw, the faint curl of his lip, the slightly arrogant set of his shoulders. It seemed to make him all the more attractive.

Which was exactly the reason if she'd had a way to call him she would have cancelled.

“Right on time,” Zach said, coming to his feet the moment he saw her. “I wasn't sure you would actually show up.”

“I wouldn't have, if I'd had your cell number. I would have cancelled. This is crazy, Zach. What are we doing here? You and I have nothing in common. I have no idea why you asked me to lunch.”

Elizabeth could hardly believe she'd agreed to meet him. Zachary Harcourt was the last person she wanted to spend time with. To say nothing of the fact she'd been seeing his brother. Carson would be furious if he found out she had met Zach for lunch. Though she didn't really owe the man any particular loyalty, at least not yet, somehow she felt guilty.

“I asked you to lunch because I don't like eating alone. And we have lots of things in common.”

A short, overweight hostess appeared just then, ending her reply. The woman jerked a pair of menus out of the holder next to the cash register. “Two of you?”

Zach nodded.

“This way.” The woman started walking and they followed her through the dining room, which was done in a western motif with cattle brands etched into the trim around the windows and doors. At a wooden table, Zach pulled out one of the low captain's chairs for Elizabeth, then took a seat himself.

“So what exactly is it that we have in common?” Elizabeth took a drink of ice water the hostess brought to the table.

“For one thing, we both have an interest in helping kids improve their lives.” Zach spread his paper napkin across his lap. “And then there's the fact that we both hate politics.”

“What? That's crazy. How do you know I hate politics?”

“Come on, Liz. Admit you were bored Saturday night. I could tell the moment I saw you.”

“I wasn't bored. I was just…I didn't know any of the guests very well, that's all.”

“If you had, you would have been even more bored.”

She wasn't sure whether to be angry or amused. The latter won out and her lips faintly curved. “If you hate politics so much, what were you doing out there that night?”

Zach opened his menu but didn't start to read. Beneath the edge of his shirtsleeve, a pair of very nice biceps bunched.

“Walter Simino and his cronies were trying to bribe me—figuratively speaking—into supporting my brother's campaign, assuming there is one. I told them to shove it.”

She fiddled with her menu, trying not to think of the way he had looked that day at Teen Vision, naked to the waist, hammering away on the barn, the muscles across his back stretching and tightening whenever he moved. “So if Carson runs, you intend to side with the opposition?”

“I didn't say that. I told them I'd stay neutral.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“You don't like your brother. It's unlikely you'd ever vote for him. Why did you agree to stay neutral?”

Zach breathed a sigh. His eyes were interesting, she thought, not just brown, but with tiny gold flecks in the irises that seemed to glow when he looked at her.

“To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure why I agreed. Maybe trying to hurt him that way just seemed too petty. Maybe I felt I owed it to my father. Besides, I'm too busy to get involved one way or another.”

The waitress appeared at the table, ready to take their orders. With only a quick glance at the menus, both of them ordered hamburgers and fries, though Elizabeth generally nibbled at the side dish, knowing how fattening it was.

“So what kind of law do you practice?” she asked as the waitress left and they waited for their meal to arrive.

“Mostly personal injury.”

“You're an ambulance chaser? I never would have guessed.”

Zach laughed, the sound deep and easy, rolling over her like ripples in a stream. Dammit, she wished she weren't so aware of him. But even when she'd been a senior in high school working at the café, she had noticed him whenever he came in. Zach was four years older, one of the best-looking boys in town. Just watching him walk through the door made something flutter in the pit of her stomach. But Zach was always in trouble, always hanging around with a bad element. Even then, she had thought it was a pity.

“Actually, we specialize in small class-action suits. We don't do big mass torts. We prefer to handle a manageable number of clients at one time. Currently, we're working on a pharmaceuticals case involving a drug called Themoziamine. Normally, we don't go after the pharmaceutical companies. That's just not our thing, but this came to us through one of our former clients and involves only a limited number of people.”

“What was the problem?”

“The drug causes brain damage in certain individuals—a higher than acceptable percentage, we believe. We're trying to get it taken off the market.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“We're the good guys, as far as I'm concerned. A couple years back our firm worked on a case involving three-wheeled vehicles. Nearly fifty thousand people a year were being injured, a lot of them being paralyzed or killed riding the damned things. We were able to prove the company knew the risk factor, even set money aside for settlements in their annual budget in the amount needed to cover them. The jury wasn't happy to find that out, and eventually we were able to get them taken out of production.”

“I remember that case. As I recall, the settlement was huge.”

“Over two hundred and fifty million.”

“Wow, no wonder you can afford Armani.”

He grinned. God, he had the whitest teeth…or maybe it was just that his face was so darkly tanned. “If you noticed, I guess it was worth it.”

Oh, she'd noticed, all right. At the moment, she was noticing how great he looked just sitting there, and she wanted to kick herself for it.

The waitress arrived, providing a timely diversion. She set their hamburger platters down on a placemat decorated with cattle brands around the edge, and the aroma of freshly grilled meat rose up, making her stomach growl.

Zach didn't seem to notice. “So what about you?” Wrapping long, tapered fingers around the hamburger, he picked it up in both hands. “You're a social worker, right?”

“Independent family counselor.”

“Okay, so are you working on any interesting cases?”

He took a big bite of his burger and she watched the muscles in his neck move up and down. He might be good-looking, but there was nothing the least bit effeminate about Zachary Harcourt. Every move he made screamed masculine and virile, and Elizabeth found herself shifting in her chair.

She picked up her knife and cut her hamburger in half just to give herself something to do. “Actually, I'm working on one of the most interesting cases I've ever been involved with—a young woman who believes she's being visited by a ghost.”

He nodded as if that was no big deal, swallowed a large bite of burger. “Maria Santiago. The doctors think she's crazy. I heard about that.”

“You know Maria? She told you about the ghost?”

“I know her brother, remember? We've been talking some lately. The subject of his sister came up. Apparently Maria told Raul about her ghost, and about her sessions with Dr. James.”

Elizabeth sat up straighter. “Well, Michael certainly doesn't think she's crazy. He thinks she's suffering from anxiety, and so do I.”

“Michael?”

“He's my boss at the clinic.”

“Just boss or something else?”

A surge of anger rolled through her. “Why are you so fixated on my love life? Every time I see you, you're trying to find out who I'm sleeping with.”

He set the last of his hamburger down on his plate. “So who
are
you sleeping with?”

“None of your damned business!” Tossing down her napkin, Elizabeth shoved back her chair and stood up.

Zach stood up, too. “Wait a minute. I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted to know if you were involved with anyone.”

“Well, I'm not. Now are you happy?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I am.”

They stood there until people started to stare and she had no choice but to sit back down.

“Where were we?” he asked. “Aside from the fact you're celibate at the moment.”

The man was outrageous! She had no idea why she found herself biting back a smile. “We were talking about Maria Santiago, and I've already said more than I should.”

“She isn't your patient, is she?”

“Well, no. Not officially. She asked me to sit in on her session with Dr. James as a friend.”

“Then there isn't a problem. Eat your French fries. They're getting cold.”

She picked one up and dipped it into the ketchup she had poured on her plate. “Maria refuses to see Dr. James again.”

“I think I can understand that.” Zach oversalted his fries, then picked one up, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed with obvious relish. “According to Raul, Maria made him promise not to tell her husband what's been going on in the house, but the girl is convinced the ghost is real.”

“Why did Raul tell you all this?”

Zach shrugged. “Like I said, we've been talking. I come up a lot on the weekends. We're trying to get the barn built, you know? Working with the boys gives me a chance to get to know them, try to encourage them. I teach a class on drug and alcohol abuse. I talk about my past and how it's possible to change your life if you want to bad enough. By the way, I think you're right about Raul. He seems like a really good kid.”

“And he told you about his sister?”

He nodded, swallowed a bite of ketchup-and-oversalted French fry. “Yeah. He's really worried about her.”

“What did he say about the ghost?”

“He says he believes her. That's the reason he talked to me about it. He knows I'm a lawyer. Raul wanted me to speak to my brother, see if there was somewhere else Miguel and Maria could live.”

“I don't believe this. She actually wants to move out of the house?”

“Apparently so. Whatever's going on, there's no way my brother's going to inconvenience himself because one of his farm workers believes in ghosts.”

A shadow passed over the table. Elizabeth glanced up as a tall blond man approached, and the guilt she'd felt earlier rose up again.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Zach said, his expression going hard.

Carson stopped beside her chair and there wasn't the least hint of a smile on his face. “I thought you had more sense,” he said, bringing a flush to her cheeks.

Zach shoved to his feet, one hand unconsciously fisting. “Leave her alone, Carson.”

If Elizabeth had ever needed evidence the man had been in prison she saw it now in his face. Hard, cold, dangerous. Even lethal was a word that came to mind.

“She needed to talk to me about one of her cases,” Zach said, “a boy at Teen Vision. That's why she agreed to come to lunch.”

Carson's disapproving gaze swung to her. “That right?”

Elizabeth didn't flinch, though it wasn't that easy to do. “It doesn't matter why I'm here. I can to go to lunch with anyone I want, Carson. Even your brother. Just because we've been out a couple of times doesn't give you any say in what I do.”

Carson's jaw tightened.

Zach seemed surprised she hadn't gone along with the half-truth he had invented to give her an easy out. She didn't need his protection. She didn't really care what Carson thought.

Carson forced a smile. “I suppose that's true.” His gaze fixed on Zach. “How's Lisa?” A sarcastic edge crept into his voice, and Zach's eyes darkened in warning.

“I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her since I left town last week.”

“If I happen to run into her, I'll tell her you said hello.” Carson walked away and Elizabeth's gaze swung to Zach.