I had never seen you before in my life.”
Dr. Marchant’s low, gruff voice came from the hall, somewhere out of sight. “Chase, really.”
Josie tilted her head back, trying to make enough room in her lungs to breathe. Thank God she wasn’t standing up. She would have fallen into a heap, like a puppet with no strings.
“Well? I’m waiting for an explanation, Miss Whitford. I swear on my life, I have never seen you before.”
He sounded…so certain. So indignant.
So exactly how an honest man unjustly accused would sound.
The bed seemed to tilt. Her heart hitched.
But then everything cleared. And suddenly she understood.
Yes, she thought as she took in the man’s generous mouth, his wide, clear brow and his intelligent eyes, everything finally made sense. The one mystery, the one thing she hadn’t ever been able to figure out, came clear. She’d never understood how a boy who had cried over killing a rattlesnake could grow into a man who could break a woman’s heart without batting an eye.
How could anyone change so much?
He couldn’t. That was the simple, terrifying answer.
He hadn’t changed. The dashing heartbreaker she’d met, and the tenderhearted rancher’s son whose stories had won her heart…they were two different men entirely.
“Damn it, woman. Say something.”
She met his furious gaze helplessly. She had nothing to say. Not to him. All she could possibly say was…
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Clayton. I’ve never seen you, either.”
CHAPTER FOUR
IT TOOK SEVERAL MINUTES for Chase to clear the room. Obviously, once Josie had dropped her bomb, no one wanted to leave before the mystery was sorted out.
The lawyer, in particular, resisted. He used euphemisms, but Josie wasn’t an idiot, so she understood. He was trying to warn Chase about being alone in a bedroom with a woman like her. According to Stilling, Josie probably planned to wait thirty seconds, scream “Rape!” and live off the hush money for the rest of her life.
But apparently no one ordered Chase around in his own house, even for his own good. Though he never once raised his voice, pretty soon everyone was filing out, slowly and still chattering, offering last-minute advice.
Everyone except the woman Josie had seen earlier, standing just behind Chase in the doorway. As soon as the auburn-haired beauty entered the room, Josie recognized her. She was Susannah Everly, Chase Clayton’s fiancée. Apparently she was going to be the official witness.
Josie wondered whether Susannah was staying to protect Chase from the crazy lady in the bed, or to protect her own romantic interests. Either way, Josie could imagine how much the woman must resent an interloper on a day like this. Josie had already gathered that she had crashed an engagement party…literally.
“Okay, Ms. Whitford,” Chase said, his voice hard. “Let’s talk.”
Josie braided her fingers in her lap, hoping that would keep them from feeling so shaky. “I wish I knew what to say. Obviously someone’s been impersonating you, Mr. Clayton, and I fell for it. I was upset this morning, when I set out to come here. I’d just learned I was pregnant, and I…I didn’t think it through, I suppose.”
She looked at him, trying to believe what seemed to be true—that he was the real Chase Clayton. “It was terrible timing. I’d say I’m sorry for causing such a commotion, but that doesn’t seem to quite cover it, does it?”
“No,” he agreed. “Not even close.”
She waited, unsure where to go from here. On the exhausting drive to this ranch, she’d been fueled by fiery indignation, believing she must make Chase do right by his own child. But now…
Now she just felt like a fool.
Chase was watching her through narrowed, appraising eyes. She lifted her chin. Okay, she had been a fool, but she didn’t have to be a pitiful fool. If only she were sure her legs would hold her, she’d get out of the bed and…
And what? Her car was in bad shape. And she certainly didn’t have money to take a cab all the way back to Riverfork.
“I think maybe you’d better start from the beginning,” he said slowly. “For starters, how did you meet this…this man you thought was me?”
“About three months ago, he came into our café, the Not Guilty Café in Riverfork. I wait tables there every morning.”
She almost added that she went to school in the afternoons, that she was just one semester away from getting her associate’s degree, but she bit her lip. He hadn’t asked for her life story. And besides, she wasn’t ashamed of being a waitress. She didn’t have to impress this man or his elegant fiancée.
She noticed that Susannah had subtly separated herself from the conversation. The tall, slender woman stood over by the window, silhouetted against the deep blue, dying light. Of course she could still hear every word, but Josie appreciated the tact. At least Josie didn’t have to look into her eyes while she revealed her own stupidity.
She turned back to Chase. “He came in every day for a week before he ever asked me out. He always requested one of my tables. He was friendly. We talked a lot. He said his name was Chase Clayton IV. He told me all about his life, his ranch, his—” She stopped. “I guess it was your life, though. Your ranch.”
“Apparently. But you just swallowed the story whole? You didn’t check him out? You didn’t even ask for identification?”
“No. It never occurred to me. Some things you just take for granted, don’t you? You can’t go around suspecting everyone of fraud. Do you check out every single person you meet?”
“Absolutely. Especially if it involves business, or anyone who will be granted…a degree of intimacy.” He took a step closer. “Like sleeping in my guest room, for instance. Stilling is downstairs doing a LexisNexis search on you right now. If you have a criminal background, he’ll find it. And if you do, then believe me, Miss Whitford, you’ll be out of that bed in a hurry.”
She frowned, stung by his tone. “And you can believe me, Mr. Clayton, that I have no intention of being your guest one second longer than is absolutely necessary.”
She felt herself flushing. “I’m not sure what you suspect me of, Mr. Clayton. I’ve already admitted, in front of witnesses, that I made a mistake. That I’m not accusing you of being the man who…the man I…”
Over by the window, Susannah stirred. “Chase, Dr. Marchant said she needed to rest. Don’t you think…” She let the sentence dwindle off.
Chase looked at her for a minute. Then he took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right, Sue.” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, mussing the golden waves of hair that curled around his collar. “You’re right, darn it. You always are.”
He smiled. It was just a one-sided, self-mocking
