Cole Cameron's Revenge Read online

  "What market? Stocks, you mean? But Ted wasn't a gam­bler."

  "No. He was a prudent investor-at least, he was until a couple of years ago. Then he began buying technology IPOs. Initial public offerings, Mrs. Cameron, in a sector where peo­ple were making fortunes overnight."

  "Go on." Faith folded her arms. Maybe that would keep anyone from noticing that her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest. "He invested lots of money and made lots of money. What's wrong with that?"

  "Nothing, if your stocks keep escalating in value, or if you sell out in time. Your late husband made some errors in judg­ment. His stocks fell, but he kept buying. I suppose he thought he'd recoup. And-­

  "And," Cole said, "he didn't."

  Jergen smiled with gratitude. "Exactly. These papers tell the story. A few months ago, Ted sold the bank and the realty company. He'd already disposed of the construction firm. He used an attorney from Atlanta-I suppose he didn't want any­one here to know the gravity of the situation. He put what he had left into the startup of a cutting-edge technology firm. I'm sure he thought he'd make a complete financial recovery, had things gone well, but..." The attorney shrugged.

  "But..." Faith moistened her lips. "But he said he was setting up a trust..."

  "Yes. Well, I'm afraid he never got around to that, Mrs. Cameron."

  She felt behind her for a chair and sank into it. She was numb.

  "One asset, however, remains. The house. Mr. Cameron never touched it. It's free and clear."

  The house. That big, drafty box where she'd never felt at home.

  "It's a valuable property..."

  Jergen kept talking. She heard the words "your inheri­tance" and "something of a surprise," but she wasn't really paying attention. The house was a valuable property. Those were the words echoing in her head, and suddenly she knew what to do. The chair squealed in protest as she pushed it back and got to her feet.

  "Sell it," she said briskly. "Put the house on the market as soon as..."

  Her words trickled to silence. Jergen's face had gone blank. And Cole--Cole was smiling. Warning bells rang in her head. "What?" she said, looking from one man to the other. "Have I missed something? Mr. Jergen? Is there a reason I can't put the house on the market?"

  "Mrs. Cameron." Jergen hesitated. "Mrs. Cameron," he said again and for the first time, she thought that he almost sounded human. "My dear young woman..."

  "Never mind, Sam." Cole stepped past the lawyer. "I'll tell her."

  "Tell me what?" Faith said uncertainly.

  He smiled, reached out and touched her cheek with his hand. Despite the panic fluttering like crazed butterflies in her stomach, some small part of her registered the feel of his skin against hers and she caught her breath, stunned at how elec­trifying the sensation was.

  "Don't!" She caught his wrist, jerked his hand away. "Tell me what?" she said again, and his smile tilted.

  "You can't sell Cameron House, Faith."

  "Why not? Is it because of probate? I thought the will had"

  "It has nothing to do with probate. I guess you weren't paying attention when old Sam, here, explained the facts of life." Cole's smile became an outright grin. "Stop counting those dollar signs, baby. Ted left the house to me."

  Faith took a steadying breath as she pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto Main Street

  .

  "Would you like some water?" Jergen had asked her, after Cole's incredible announcement.

  "No," she'd replied, "no, I'm fine."

  Fine enough to exchange a few more sentences and then walk from the conference room, through the office, out of the building and into the hot, hot sun that did nothing to stop the chill that crept through her as she began seeing just how pre­carious her situation was.

  Ted had talked about setting up a trust for Peter, but he hadn't. He'd left his money to her, instead, but he'd lost it all. Nothing remained but Cameron House... and he'd willed that to Cole.

  Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  Whatever Ted had done with his money and his home was his affair. That was how she'd wanted it. All she'd ever let him give her was the Cameron name, and she'd done that for her son. Nobody could take away Peter's legitimacy. Not ever, but now she was a woman with a young son who'd have no roof over his head two days from now.

  "When do you want me out of the house?" she'd asked Cole.

  "Yesterday," he'd replied politely. "But I suppose the end of the month will have to do."

  And she'd said, "Fine," as if it didn't matter.

  What a stupid thing to have done. She'd been so busy trying not to let the terror of what was happening show that she'd been incapable of thinking straight. Everything was a mess and she'd only made things worse by being angry, not just at Cole for his smugness or Sam Jergen for the way he'd toadied up to him, but at Ted, too. Okay, that was wrong but, dammit, how could he have let this happen? If only he'd put the money in trust for Peter, instead of leaving it for her. If only he hadn't gone crazy in the stock market.

  "If only pigs could fly," she whispered, and gave a laugh that sounded sad, even to her.

  What was she going to tell Peter? The last couple of weeks, they'd played a kind of game. She'd started it to put a smile on his face but the truth was, it had become as important to her as to him.

  "When we move far, far away from here," she'd say, and Peter would counter with all the wishes in his child's heart.

  When we move far, far away, I'm gonna live in a little house with a big yard instead of a big house on top of a hill. And 1'm gonna have a puppy and a horse and a kitten.

  All right. Maybe there wouldn't be a little house with a big yard. Maybe there wouldn't be a puppy and a horse and a kitten. But she and Peter would have each other. They'd live someplace where they'd just be a woman and a little boy, not that Davenport woman and the kid she'd used to get Ted Cameron's ring on her finger.

  Except, how was she going to do that? She couldn't take off on a bus with a little boy and no destination, no money and no job. Job? Faith choked back something that was half sob, half laugh. You had to have skills to get a job and she had none, unless bandaging scraped knees counted as a talent.

  Growing up, she'd picked peaches and beans and whatever crops were in season. At fifteen, she'd put on an apron and waitressed at the counter in the five-and-dime. She could do those things again, she wasn't afraid of hard work, but no matter what kind of job she got, what would she do about Peter? Who would take care of him? Summer was here. School was out, he'd be home and she'd sooner die than leave him on his own, here or anywhere.

  The light ahead changed to red. Faith stepped too hard on the brake and the car jerked to a stop. She wanted to scream, to sob, to pound her fist against the steering wheel but that wouldn't change anything. Minutes ago, she'd been worried about how to tell Peter that the game of "When we move away from here" was ended. Now, she faced the realization that the game was the least of her problems.

  "Reality time," Faith whispered, and pulled into the drive­way that led to Cameron House-to Cole's house. She hit the button that opened the garage door and she pulled into the

  darkness, shut off the engine and let the door come down behind her.

  A bone-deep weariness made her fold her arms over the steering wheel and lay her cheek against them. She didn't have time for self-pity. There had to be a way to get through this, even if it meant phoning Sam Jergen and asking him to con­vince Cole to let her stay on here for another week or two, just until she got things together.

  Faith sat up straight, wiped her eyes and headed into the house. "Peter?" she called. There was no answer. All she could hear was the low hum of the air conditioner. "Peter? Where are you, honey?"

  A note was tucked under a magnet on the refrigerator door. It was from Alice, the housekeeper. Alice despised her but she loved Peter. She'd taken him with her to the market.

  Faith let out a breath. Good. She'd have time to get hold of herself and
go back to town and pick up the burger and fries she'd promised to buy. She did some quick calculating, amazed at what a dent four dollars and change would put into her budget, but she wasn't going to turn her son's life inside out if she could help it.

  First, though, she'd get out of this straitjacket of a suit.

  She went up the stairs to her bedroom, moving as slowly as if she'd aged a hundred years in the past couple of hours. The room was warm and she started to turn the thermostat down, thought of the possible cost of those few degrees and decided she could endure the heat.

  Faith unzipped her skirt and tossed it on a chair. Her jacket followed. She reached for the top button on her blouse but it was already...

  Cole had opened it.

  An image flashed through her mind. She saw herself lying on the sofa in the law office, coming back to consciousness in his arms. For one breathless instant, time had seemed to run backward. She'd looked into his eyes and remembered awakening the same way the night they'd made love down by the lake, except then he'd smiled when she looked at him,

  whispered her name, taken her mouth in a hot, drugging kiss that had turned her boneless with desire...

  What a fool she was!

  Why was she giving in so easily? He'd always gotten what be wanted from her. Her innocence. Her love. Now, he was going to take this house but she belonged here more than he did. Cameron House had been her home for nine years. Cole hadn't been back in all that time. He'd left Liberty and never looked back, not at his brother, not at his father, not at her.

  He wanted the house? Well, let him try and get it. So what if Ted had willed it to him? She was here and possession was nine-tenths of the law. She'd find a lawyer who'd be pleased to represent her, not somebody who'd bow down to a Cameron. What judge would force a woman and her child onto the streets?

  Faith smiled. She could almost feel the load lifting from her heart.

  Quickly, she flung off the rest of her clothes, shook out her hair and went into the bathroom. A cool shower would make her feel human again. She turned the spray to high and stepped under the water, letting it cascade over her face and body as if the force of it could wash away every last remnant of the awful morning.

  She'd made things so easy. Cole was probably sitting in Jergen's office, laughing over how she'd crept away in defeat.

  Well, he was in for a big surprise.

  She dried off, pushed her wet hair back from her face and slipped on a short cotton robe. She was smiling as she walked into the bedroom. Ready or not, Cole Cameron, she thought,

  here I...

  The brave idea ended on a shocked scream. Cole was stand­ing in the doorway, his face twisted with rage, his hands knot­ted into fists at his sides.

  "Faith," he growled. "Where is he?"

  God, she thought, God, please help me...

  "Where is he?" he said again and when she didn't answer, he kicked the door shut and came straight toward her.

  All she could do was let out a strangled sob and fall back against the wall.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  COLE hadn't even thought about going to the house.

  He'd watched Faith leave the law office, her chin lifted even though her face was ashen, her walk brisk.

  "Tough spot to find herself in," Jergen had said, after a minute.

  "Yeah." Cole had smiled thinly. "So is life."

  "I don't feel sorry for the woman at all, you under­stand ... but perhaps you should give her just a bit more time to vacate Cameron House."

  Cole had looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "What for?"

  "Well, it's not very much notice, Mr. Cameron. If she went before a judge he'd probably grant her thirty days, maybe more."

  "I'm not a judge. And if she has half the brains I figure, she'll know better than to waste the little money she has on legal fees."

  "I agree, sir. I only meant, all things considered..."

  "What things?" Cole looked at the lawyer and saw, to his surprise, that the man's face had suddenly become shiny with sweat. "Talk English, Jergen. I'm not in the mood for rid­dles."

  "Perhaps I should have mentioned it sooner. I do have a certain obligation to maintain the privacy of my clients, but-"

  "But?"

  "But, it isn't as if there's only Mrs. Cameron in that house."

  The conference room seemed to fill with silence. "Isn't there?" Cole finally said, his voice low.

  "No." The lawyer searched for the right words. "I mean, if she were alone, perhaps..."

  "Get to it, man. Who's living at that house with my sister-­in-law?"

  Jergen inhaled sharply, then blew the breath out through pursed lips. "Peter. And, of course, she won't have the money to support-"

  Cole's blood drummed in his ears, drowning out whatever else the attorney was saying. The room swam, then went crim­son. He shouldered his way past Jergen, ran down the stairs but Faith was gone. And a good thing, he thought as he dumped his jacket in the back seat, got behind the wheel of the Jaguar and gunned the powerful engine to life.

  His brother was hardly cold in his grave and his wife had taken herself a lover and installed him under the Cameron roof, supported him with Cameron money...

  Cole stepped down on the gas. Horns blared as he threaded his way through traffic, skidded around street corners and headed instinctively for the back roads he'd once ridden on his motorcycle whenever he'd needed to clear his head.

  The houses began thinning. The air he pulled into his lungs no longer held the stench of the town. Open fields and woods flashed by. At last, the road turned to dirt and arrowed toward the hills and infinity.

  Cole jammed his foot to the floor. The car gave a throaty roar and leaped ahead but the knot inside him only tightened. He'd seen what he'd come for, the look on Faith's face when she'd learned her scheme had fallen through, but it wasn't enough anymore. Not after what Jergen had told him.

  His sweet sister-in-law had a man. A lover, living with her in that damnable house, sleeping in her bed, kissing and ca­ressing that body she'd once offered him.

  "Hell," Cole said roughly, and the tires screamed as he stood on the brakes and put the Jaguar into a tight turn that left a rooster tail of hot Georgia dust rising behind him. He needed to see it for himself.

  Twenty minutes later, Cameron House had loomed against the sky as big and ugly as he'd remembered. There was no car in the driveway, no sign of life, but he hadn't expected any. Faith would have put her car in the garage. By now, she Was probably in her lover's arms, telling him the money they'd been counting on was gone.

  Only a rich widow could afford to take herself a stud and pay for his services.

  He took the front steps two at a time, strode across a porch that bore testament to his old man's inability to know the difference between schlock and style, and stabbed the doorbell until his finger hurt. Then he pounded his fist against the door.

  "Faith," he said. His voice rose to a roar. "Faith!"

  Nothing. The door remained shut, the house stayed silent. Cole ground his teeth together. He'd be damned if he'd stand out here, cooling his heels while his beloved sister-in-law sought the comfort of her lover's arms.

  He eyed the door. He could use his shoulder to batter it open... Hell, he didn't have to. In his rage, he'd almost for­gotten the brass key that had always been tucked under the doormat. Was it still ... ? Yes. It was. He dug it out, shoved it into the lock and the door swung open.

  Nothing had changed. The foyer was still dark and gloomy, the furniture still overstuffed, oversized and overbearing.

  Cole could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body. The metallic taste of his rage was in his mouth, the power of it in his muscles. He could almost smell it rising from his skin.

  "Faith'

  He moved through the rooms quickly, knowing as he did that he wouldn't find her down here, that she'd be up­stairs ... that he could be walking into something he didn't want to see, but this was his house now, not hers, and he had every rig
ht to toss whoever was living with her out on his ass. She owed his brother's memory some respect. That was the only reason for his anger, for the way his blood was driving through his veins.

  "Faith?" he'd shouted, and started up the stairs. That was when he'd heard the hiss of water. Someone was taking a shower.

  He'd flung open the door to the master bedroom. Empty.

  He'd marched down the hall to the room that had been Ted's. Empty.

  "Faith, you..."

  He'd spun in a tight circle, cocked his head.., and realized the sound was coming from the room that had once been his. Frowning, he'd walked slowly to the door, put his hand on the knob and turned it. To his surprise, the room was almost exactly as he'd left it. The same furniture, the same curtains and spread. The scent in the air was all that was different.

  Faith's scent.

  And, just then, the bathroom door had opened and she'd stepped into the bedroom, Faith, wearing a thin cotton robe that clearly outlined her breasts; Faith, her hair damp and wild and streaming down her back; Faith, her long legs bare and elegant as they'd been when they'd closed around his waist that long ago night.

  The knot in Cole's belly had tightened until it threatened to rise into his throat.

  "Faith," he said, and she turned, saw him and screamed.

  The scream, the heart-stopping terror in her beautiful face, only fed his rage. "Where is he?" he said, and she went even whiter. She staggered back against the wall as he kicked the door shut.

  "I asked you a question. Where is he?" "Who?"

  "You know damned well, who." Cole pushed her aside, looked into the bathroom. Steam curled lazily from its empty depths. "Peter, that's who." He moved past her again, yanked open the closet door even though he couldn't imagine anybody was hiding inside. Faith hadn't heard him coming; neither would her lover, but he was operating on instinct now, the primitive part of his brain taking over despite the layers of civility and centuries of evolution that were supposed to have tamed it. Furious, his blood still drumming in his ears, he swung around and glared at her. "Tell me where he is."