Christine Rimmer - A Hero for Sophie Jones Page 8

  Sin chose an orange from the fruit basket on the coffee table. Staring through a sliding glass door at the small garden patio outside his suite, he slowly began removing the peel.

  He'd learned early that it didn't pay to trust anybody. People did what they had to do to get what they wanted. If you put your trust in them, they would only betray you, one way or another. He'd seen it time and time again. It was how the world worked.

  Yet, in spite of his very real and practical cynicism, Sin trusted Sophie Jones. He could find no deceit when he looked in her eyes. Though it went against all he'd trained himself to believe, he simply could not picture her hiring somebody to follow him around.

  Besides, he thought wryly as he separated off a slice of orange, Sophie couldn't afford to have him followed. She spent every cent she had trying to keep her precious Mountain Star in the black—and feeding every stray creature, human or otherwise, that wandered into her life.

  No, whoever had decided to find out his business in Northern California, it wasn't Sophie B. Jones.

  Sin ate his orange. He made a few more calls.

  And then he waited.

  Until he could see her again.

  That night went by like the ones before it—too swiftly, even though Sin and Sophie had more time with that impossible theater of hers closed. They walked down to the spot by the creek and sat there for an hour. Then they wandered back to her little house, where they stayed until daylight.

  In the morning, as the sun rose, they rode out, taking a different series of trails than the time before, though they did cross the pretty little pasture where so many roses grew wild. He left her around eight and returned to his hotel to pass the day somehow.

  Until he could see her again.

  The day seemed to drag on forever. He didn't see a single late-model gray sedan. His shadow had either given up—or become a lot more careful.

  That night Sophie asked him if he had any family left at all.

  "No. There's no one."

  She was lying on her stomach, her chin propped on her hands. She rolled to the side and sat up, tugging on the sheet so it would cover those high, full breasts. "I used to be the same way."

  Since he had most of his mind on that sheet—and the tempting prospect of peeling it back—it took Sin a few seconds to really hear her words. Then he frowned. "Used to be?"

  "Yep." She wiggled around a little, pulling the damn sheet even higher.

  "Sophie. That makes no sense. You either have a family or you don't."

  "I don't." She was smiling way too smugly. "But I do."

  He thought he took her meaning then. "I understand. Caleb's like a brother. And Myra thinks of you as a daughter."

  She wiggled around some more. The sheet slipped a little. She caught it, pulled it back up. "I do think of them as family—but I wasn't referring to them a minute ago."

  "Damn it, you're driving me crazy with that sheet."

  She went wide-eyed. "I am?"

  "You know you are."

  Her lashes fluttered down. "I do?" She let the sheet fall. And she looked right at him.

  He swore low with feeling. And then he reached for her.

  Some time later, she lay beneath him, the sheet all tangled around their feet. She sighed and stroked his back. "What I meant was…"

  He made a sleepy noise of complete contentment.

  She poked him in the shoulder. "Sinclair. I'm trying to talk to you." She nudged him again. "Come on. Listen. Please."

  He let out a few grouchy groans, but then she whispered, so sweetly, "Please."

  He slid to the side and propped his head on his hand. "All right. What?"

  She reached down for the sheet, found it and pulled it over them. "Remember, before you distracted me—"

  "I distracted you?"

  She giggled. "Well, all right. Before we distracted each other, I was talking about how I used to think I had no family, but I do, after all?"

  "I remember." Though it made no sense at all. He had paid well to learn all the facts about her. Those facts included parents long deceased and a beloved aunt who'd died when she was twenty-one—and that was it, as far as relatives went.

  "Sophie, what are you driving at?"

  "Well, I have an honorary family."

  "This is getting more incomprehensible by the moment."

  She smoothed the sheet, flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "If you'll just listen, I'll explain."

  "I'm listening."

  "Good. I suppose you never heard of the family they call the Jones Gang."

  "Is this a joke?"

  "No. I promise. This is for real."

  "The Jones Gang?"

  "Well, that's just what people call them. Most of them live in North Magdalene, up Highway Forty-Nine, between Nevada City and—"

  "I've heard of North Magdalene."

  "Well, okay. Did you know that there are a lot of Joneses there?"

  "No, I have to admit I didn't know that."

  "Well, there are. A lot of Joneses. And they've kind of adopted me. Because I'm a Jones, too, though I'm not a real blood relation."

  He thought that over. "You've been adopted. By the Jones Gang."

  "Yes. That's exactly right. I have been adopted … informally, of course."

  "Of course. Why the Jones Gang?"

  "Why did they adopt me?"

  "No, why are they called the Jones Gang?"

  "Because they're a pretty wild bunch—or they were, until they all found love and settled down."

  "Wild?"

  "Yes. Bad actors. Hooligans. One step away from being outlaws. You know?"

  "I suppose."

  "I want to take you there."

  "You do?" The idea of driving up Highway Forty-Nine to meet a family of hooligans didn't particularly excite him.

  She must have seen his reluctance in his face, because she nudged him with her elbow. "Come with me. Tomorrow, in the afternoon. I think I can swing a few hours away from here, if I work like crazy all morning—how about you? Do you think you can manage to get away?"

  From waiting all day until he could see her again? It shouldn't be too difficult.

  "Please?"

  He couldn't resist the appeal in those eyes. "I think I can find the time."

  Her smile took his breath away. "I'm so glad—oh, and maybe we could swim. In the river." The Yuba River wound its way in and out of the canyons along the highway. "It's the best time of year for it."

  "I'll bring something to swim in."

  "Oh, I just know you're going to love the Joneses."

  "We'll see."

  "Sinclair. You're so cautious."

  "Sophie. You love everybody."

  "Maybe so. But the Jones family is special. Just you wait and see."

  At two the next afternoon, they walked into a bar called the Hole in the Wall, which stood in the middle of Main Street in the tiny mountain town of North Magdalene.

  Sophie had already explained to Sin that the bar—and the restaurant next door—were Jones-owned businesses. As were the gift shop across the street, the service station a few doors down, the one motel and the gold sales store up near the end of town—which was easily visible from the beginning of town, as North Magdalene wasn't much more than a bend in the road. The sign at the foot of Main Street

  read, Welcome To North Magdalene, Population 229. Smokey Says Fire Danger Is High.

  Inside the Hole in the Wall, Sophie bounced right up to the bar, towing Sin along behind her. "Hello, Jared," she said to the tall, rangy character with the steel gray eyes who stood behind the beer taps.

  Those steely eyes softened. "Sophie B. Jones. How've you been?"

  "Just terrific. This is Sinclair. Sinclair Riker." The bartender nodded and Sin nodded back. "Where's Oggie?" All during the short drive up there, she had babbled away about the wonderful Oggie Jones, patriarch of the Jones Gang, the sweetest, wisest, most delightfully eccentric old man in the whole world.

  Jared twit
ched a thumb in the direction of a green curtain strung along the back wall. "The old man's playing poker. Not to be disturbed—for a while, anyway. Why don't you two grab a couple of stools and have a beer on the house?"

  Sophie considered, then shook her head. "Thanks, but I think I'll show Sinclair around town now and then take him swimming. We'll come back later." Just then a tall, pretty woman with strawberry blond hair emerged through the door behind the bar. "Eden!" Sophie smiled wide in greeting.

  "Hello, Sophie B. It's good to see you."

  Sophie made the introductions. Eden was Jared's wife and helped him run the bar and the restaurant next door. She shook hands with Sin, and then asked, "So, can you two hang around for dinner?"

  Sophie looked at Sin. He gave her a fine-with-me shrug.

  "Around seven? We'll throw some steaks on the grill and open a bottle of wine."

  "We'd love it."

  "I'll invite the old man, too," Jared said. "As soon as he gets through cheating at poker."

  "That would be terrific."

  "Do you remember how to get to our place?"

  Sophie said she did, then she grabbed Sin's hand again and dragged him out into the sunlight.

  They trooped up and down Main Street

  . They went in Fletcher Gold Sales, where Sophie introduced him to Sam Fletcher, who was married to the remarkable Oggie's only daughter, Delilah. They stopped at Wishbook, the gift and sundries shop, which was run by Evie Jones Riggins, Oggie's niece. They even peeked in at the counter of the garage and exchanged greetings with Patrick Jones, Oggie's third son—the others being Jack Roper, the sheriff's deputy, who was illegitimate, but still very much a part of the family, Jared, the bartender, and Brendan, who drove a big rig for a living. Each of them was married, and most of them had children.

  Sophie rattled off names and relationships as if she'd known every one of them for her whole life. Sin smiled and shook people's hands and tried to keep the names straight. He also wondered why the hell he was enjoying himself so much, wandering around this tiny town, meeting strangers he was never likely to see again.

  But then all he had to do was glance at the woman beside him and it all came clear. Her pleasure was infectious. She adored these people and he couldn't help liking them, too.

  They used the rest rooms at the garage to change into their swimsuits. Then they got back in his rental car. She directed him down a street called Bullfinch Lane

  , across a bridge to the other side of the river.

  "This is Sweetbriar Park. Just pull in there."

  He parked the car and then she led him along a path that finally opened up to a sandy beach at the river's edge. There, in the shade of the oaks that grew near the sand, two women sat in fold-up lawn chairs. Out in the bright sunlight, a number of children of varying ages made castles of sand and splashed in the shallows. Across the gleaming water, several older kids sunned themselves on the rocks.

  Sin felt a sharp stab of disappointment. He'd imagined they might actually manage a little time alone.

  No such luck. Right away, one of the women looked their way and waved. "Sophie B.! Hello!"

  Sophie dragged him over and introduced him to Regina Jones, Patrick's wife, and also to Amy Jones, who was married to Brendan, the truck driver. The older kids on the other side of the river dived in and swam across, to be introduced as well.

  Finally, after he'd met Regina's stepdaughters and their teenage girlfriends, admired several life-jacketed toddlers and said hello to two boys named Pete and Mark, who were also related to Joneses in some way he didn't quite catch, he was allowed to spread his towel in the warm sand.

  Sophie yanked off the big beach shirt she'd worn over her cute blue suit and tossed it to the ground. "Last one in's a claim jumper!" She raced for the water's edge and dived in so quickly, he'd lost the game before he even realized he was playing it.

  He took off and hit the water fast. Damn, he'd forgotten how cold the Yuba could be! She was halfway to the big rocks on the opposite bank, swimming in strong, even strokes across the current, before he caught up with her. He seized her ankle and gave it a tug.

  She went under. Five seconds later, she came up sputtering. "No fair!" She tried to splash him.

  He caught her arm and reeled her in closer—though not as close as he'd have liked to. After all, there were those two Jones women and all those little Joneses sitting back there in the sand.

  "Sinclair!" She faked outrage, wriggling and squirming—and laughing in spite of herself.

  He'd lost hold of her ankle, but he kept a firm grip on her arm. "So I'm a claim jumper, am I?"

  She batted her water-soaked eyelashes. "If the shoe fits—"

  "You cheated."

  "No, you just weren't fast enough."

  "You have to say 'go,' or it doesn't count."

  She stuck out her tongue at him as the current tugged at them, trying to pull them along.

  "That does it." He put his other hand on her head and pushed. She went under—and reached out and pulled him down along with her. They wrestled in the cold water, air bubbles bouncing all around them, her long hair snaking and swirling, caressing his shoulder, floating against his cheek.

  Finally they both shot to the surface, gulping in air—and laughing. His hand held her waist, hers was pressed against his heart.

  "Oh, Sinclair…" Her eyes went tender.

  Like a bright light popping on in a dark room, the knowledge came to him: he was happy. Happy. Splashing in the icy water of the Yuba with Sophie, acting like a silly kid, while all those Joneses watched from the bank.

  He moved forward, treading water, holding them both in place though the current kept trying to carry them down. "Sophie." Their lips met, cold and wet on the surface, so warm underneath. He pulled back.

  She said, "I can't help it. I have to say it—I love you, Sinclair."

  He kept treading water, thinking of all the lies he'd told, of the kind of man she thought he was and the man he really was. Of how this could never last. The truth would find them soon.

  "Sophie, I—"

  And then Regina Jones started screaming.

  "Anthea, my God! Anthea!"

  Sin turned just in time to see the orange life jacket and the small dark head of one of the toddlers, bouncing along toward the rapids a hundred yards downstream.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  Sin and Sophie struck out as one, swimming fast down the center of the stream. Sin was vaguely aware of the others on the bank, but they didn't have the chance he and Sophie did, with the strong power of the current beneath them, pushing them along. The others in the shallows would have to swim out to get the river's aid.

  Within twenty feet, they left the depths behind. The river flattened out and the streambed came up to meet them. They ran with their feet and swam with their hands until the water level dropped so low there was nothing they could do but stumble along, falling on the slippery rocks beneath their feet, gaining an unstable purchase and then surging forward once more.

  Ahead of them, the life jacket bobbed, the little head going facedown, popping upright again, then floating back, so the tiny nose pointed at the blue sky above. Sin could hear the crying now—and the choking each time the small head went down and came up again.

  Sin shoved at the rocks with his legs, pushing himself onward, leaving Sophie behind.

  Luck shined on him in the form of two boulders sticking out above the surface with several dead branches wedged between them. The orange life jacket got stuck in the eddy created by the rocks and the debris. For several blessed seconds, the child swirled in a circle, the life jacket almost catching on a tree branch, the child sputtering and choking, gone past crying now.

  But it couldn't last. Too soon, the relentless current had its way. The little body spun on out of the eddy and went tumbling downstream once more.

  By then, though, Sin had come within a few feet. He shoved again with his legs, lunging
forward. By some miracle, he caught a strap that trailed off the back of the life jacket. He gave a yank and then he had the child around the waist.

  He got the little body onto his shoulder just as he lost his footing—his legs went straight out in front of him and he rolled along on his rear end for several more yards, his feet scrambling for purchase again as he struggled to keep his burden above the water.

  And then he felt Sophie's hand, grabbing his swim trunks from behind. He stopped rushing downstream and immediately wedged his feet in behind a couple of rocks to hold him there. He looked back. She had herself braced firmly against the rocks, as well.

  "Give me Anthea," she instructed. "You're stronger than me. You can pull us all back to the bank."

  He handed the child over. Sophie hoisted her to one shoulder and then held out her hand. They didn't get three steps before the others met them in the middle of the stream with the water rushing fast all around. They made a chain and passed the little girl, who'd started choking and coughing again, back to the safety of her mother's arms.

  On the beach, one of Regina's stepdaughters—the younger one, Marnie—was crying. "I turned around. It was just for a minute. And then she was gone. Oh, Anthy…" She spoke to the toddler, who sat on her mother's shoulder by then, looking soggy but otherwise all right, sucking furiously on her thumb. "Anthy, I'm so sorry…"

  In answer, Anthea pulled her thumb from her mouth and offered it to Marnie.

  "No, thanks," Marnie said, smiling through her tears—and then she was reaching out for her stepmother, "Gina, I know I said I'd watch her. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry…"

  Somehow Regina managed to embrace her stepdaughter with one arm while she held the smaller child cradled in the other. "It's all right," Regina soothed the older girl. "She's safe. She's all right." She looked up, caught Sin's eye. "Thanks to you."

  A grateful chorus of agreement went up, from all those other Joneses. Sophie still held his hand. She gave it a squeeze. He glanced into her shining eyes—and for one, brief, impossible moment, he saw the man she thought he was reflected there.