Almost Home Read Free Page B

At least people who deserve such
consideration, who don't make judgments about people without even knowing them.
And what is your name anyway?"
    "Zach Tyler," he said with a smile teasing
the corner of his lips.
    "And your friends call you what? Rude, nasty,
arrogant?"
    "They're not that nice."
    His grin broadened, and she caught her breath at the
life that came into his face when he smiled with genuine amusement. The sharp
angles of his jaw softened, and the hardness in his eyes vanished, making him
look younger, more carefree, and impossibly handsome.
    "Nice to meet you, Kat," he said, sticking
out his hand.
    She debated one second too long, and he simply reached
out and took her hand in his. The touch of his fingers was hotter than she'd
expected, and a jolt of awareness rocked through her body, shocking her with
its intensity. It was supposed to be a simple handshake, but instead of
squeezing her hand and letting it go, his fingers pulled her closer.
    "Katherine Whitfield," he said, staring into
her eyes. "Sounds like old money, big white house with pillars and a
verandah."
    "Mediterranean villa, pool, and an acre of
incredible gardens," she replied breathlessly, her hand still tingling
within his grasp.
    "Built to last, I bet."
    "It's just a house."
    "Spoken like a woman who's never lived without a
roof over her head."
    No, she'd never suffered that loss. But a roof wasn't
a family. And a house wasn't always a home.
    "Where did you say you come from?"
    "
California
."
    "You're a long way from home. You should go back
there."
    "Why?"
    He stared at her for a long, expectant minute, his
gaze drifting from her eyes to her lips. He lowered his head, and she
thought—for one insane moment, she thought he was about to kiss her. Instead he
whispered next to her ear, "Because you don't belong here."
    The words cut deeply. She'd never felt like she
belonged to anyone or anyplace, not since her mother had died and especially not
since her stepfather had remarried, moving on to a new wife, a new life.
Belonging had always teased the tips of her fingers but never been quite within
her grasp.
    Finding her real father could change that. She would
finally have someone who was tied to her by blood. Katherine wouldn't—she
couldn't—let this man, this stranger, this cowboy weaken her resolve to find
her father.
    Katherine pulled her hand out of Zach's grasp. "I'll
leave when I'm ready and not a second before." She spun on her heel and
stalked down the highway, fuming every step of the way. How dare he try to tell
her what to do? He didn't know one damn thing about her, yet he'd already made
up his mind that she didn't belong.
    Her anger probably would have fueled a long hike into
the next town, but a few more yards down the highway made her realize she could
hardly leave her rental car, not to mention her hope chest in the backseat. She
stopped abruptly, took in a deep breath, counted to ten, then to twenty, shot
him a dark look, and counted another ten before walking back toward him.
    Zach let out a breath as Katherine turned around.
Thank God, she'd stopped. It was a long walk to
Paradise
,
especially in her heels. She was completely out of place, and she should go
home before she got herself into any more trouble.
    Still, he couldn't help feeling a bit guilty. He'd
struck her with the same words that had always hurt him the most. You don't
belong here. Even though it was the truth, he probably shouldn't have said
it.
    "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"
    She was close enough to hear him. But she didn't
reply, just stared down the empty highway and tapped one foot restlessly
against the concrete.
    "Fine, have it your way," he called out,
leaning back against her car. What did it matter if she was angry with him? In
a few minutes she'd be out of his life—well, at least out of his immediate
vicinity. If she had any sense, she'd leave the past where it belonged. No good
ever came out of digging up a secret someone had buried with deliberate pur