“Your father was,” she said instead. “Everyone loved being around him.”

“I remember.” Chantal smiled. “Whenever he came to school for a program, all my friends talked about him.”

Dominique wanted to ask if they’d ever talked about her. After all, having a famous mother was certainly more interesting. But she held back the words, unexpectedly understanding this was not a moment about her.

With that insight came the uncomfortable realization that her constant need for attention wasn’t about feeding an ego, but instead filling a void inside. Silencing the cruel voice that whispered she was one false step away from losing it all.

“Want to go get a cup of coffee?” her daughter asked unexpectedly. “Come on, Mother, we’ll walk over to Starbucks. I’m buying.”

“That sounds nice,” Dominique murmured, thinking being outside might help. At least there would be more to talk about.

Five minutes later they were on the sidewalk and walking the few blocks to the center of town. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the day, there were plenty of people out, enjoying the perfect September weather.

Several of the women they passed either waved to Chantal or called out her name. A little girl of maybe six or seven ran over and motioned for Chantal to bend down. The girl whispered in her ear and then ran back to her mother.

Chantal laughed, then turned to Dominique. “Her grandmother has a cat who insists on climbing trees. He’s on the chunky side and has trouble getting down, so I go out and rescue him.”

“You climb a tree to rescue a cat?”

She nodded. “He’s rarely grateful, but his owner is.”

“You’re risking your neck for a cat?”

“That’s what I do. I take care of people here.”

“If there’s a fire.”

“Not just fires. We show up at car accidents, or if a kid gets stuck somewhere.”

Dominique didn’t understand any part of her daughter’s work. “Aren’t there men who can do your job better?”

Chantal’s eyes turned icy. “No. There aren’t. I’m damned good at what I do. I work hard and I find the job rewarding.”

Dominique sensed she’d made a misstep somewhere, but didn’t know how it had happened. “I’m not saying you’re not competent. It’s just so dangerous. Wouldn’t you rather do something safer?”

“Not really.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“Hardly news.”

They crossed the street. As they walked by a hair salon, a woman rushed out. She was in her twenties, with brown hair and brown eyes. Not the least bit remarkable, Dominique thought. It must be difficult to be ordinary.

Chantal stopped. “Patience, hi.”

“Hi yourself.” The other woman handed over a book. “I finished it and it’s as wonderful as I thought. Very sexy. These days I have to get my thrills in romance Books. At least that guy always turns out to be one of the good ones.”

Dominique saw a brightly colored cover and an author’s name she didn’t recognize. Chantal read romances? Dominique had always enjoyed them, as well. Something for them to talk about, she told herself.

“Patience, this is my mother. Dominique—”

“Dixon,” Dominique said, interrupting. “Dominique Dixon.”

“Nice to meet you,” Patience said, shaking her hand. Her head tilted. “How strange. You remind me of someone. My daughter is crazy about ballet and she has several DVDs starring a beautiful ballerina who...” She paused and laughed. “I’m being silly. Never mind.”

Chantal raised her eyebrows, as if waiting for Dominique to announce she was the beautiful star of those DVDs.

“I’ve always been a fan of ballet,” Dominique said instead. “Discipline for the soul and the body. I hope she continues with it.”

“Me, too. But she’s nine. Who knows what will capture her attention tomorrow.” She glanced back at the salon. “I’ve got to get back. Eddie Carberry is getting a perm and if I don’t watch her every second, she starts messing with the curlers. Nice to meet you Mrs. Dixon.”

“Call me Dominique.”

Patience waved and ducked back into the building.

Chantal pointed to the Starbucks across the street. “When did you start going by Dixon?”

“I prefer it from time to time. There’s no need for your friends to know who I am, so Dixon makes more sense while I’m here.” Something she had just that second decided, but was pleased with her generosity.

“You’re assuming I haven’t told them who you are.”

“Have you?”

“Not all of them.”

They ordered their drinks, then took them outside to a free table. Dominique was careful to sit out of the sun. Laser treatments might erase unsightly age spots, but the damage never really went away.

“I remember when little girls would run up to me and beg for an autograph,” Dominique said with a sigh. “It’s been a long time since anyone recognized me.”

“You’re still beautiful, Mom.”

Dominique picked up her coffee. “I’m old and don’t fit anywhere. Fame is fleeting. I’d heard that, of course, but never believed it. You’re much smarter than me. You have a place where you belong. It will still be here when you’re my age.” She managed a shaky smile. “Unless the big one comes and California falls into the ocean.”

Chantal smiled back. “The tectonic plates are moving toward each other, rather than away. So we’re not at any risk of disappearing under water. At least not from an earthquake.”

“Good to know.”

She put down her coffee and studied her daughter. Chantal had decent skin and nice bone structure. But her hair was a disaster, as were her clothes.

“Do you ever wear makeup?”

Chantal’s expression tightened. “This was great, Mother, but I have to go.”

Dominique realized how her question had been interpreted. “I wasn’t being critical. I was just asking. I wondered if not wearing it is a personal choice or because you don’t know how to apply it. You could be quite attractive.”

“In the right light?”

“Lighting can be a woman’s best friend. I could show you a few tricks. If you’re interested.”

“Maybe another time.”

Dominique sensed she’d made another mistake, but wasn’t sure where or how. Defeat weighed heavily on her shoulders.

“I’m sure you have things to do,” she said at last. “We’ll talk again later.”

The relief in her daughter’s eyes was as painful as her eager escape. Dominique sat with her coffee, grateful the bright sunshine made it reasonable to put on her sunglasses. The fake smile on her lips and the dark glass over her eyes hid the flood of tears she did her best to blink away.

CHAPTER TEN

“SHE MAKES ME insane,” Charlie ranted before digging her fork into Kung Pao Beef on her plate. “She shows up here, with no warning.”

Clay sat across from her at her kitchen table and picked up his beer. The room was cozy, with only a couple of lights on and the curtains pulled.

“This morning, or are you talking about her being in Fool’s Gold?” he asked.

“Either. Both. I’m not picky. But she is. She insulted my house, she practically clucked over my hair. Or maybe my clothes. Then she started talking about makeup. I don’t wear makeup. I don’t get it... I don’t want to. I’m not like her. That’s the real problem. She was hoping to give birth to a miniature version of herself. Instead she got me.”

“Then she was lucky.”

Charlie smiled at him. “Good line. You know, you’re more than a pretty face.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“I wish she wasn’t here.”

“I got that.”

Charlie took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “Even saying that, I feel guilty. She was sick.” She told him about the colon cancer. “But true to form, she complained about everyone talking about her bowels. I guess it wasn’t an elegant enough disease for her.”

Clay grabbed an egg roll. “You’re torn. You don’t want to have anything to do with her, and you’re sorry she had cancer. But thinking about the cancer makes you worry about what she expects from you. It’s a lot.”

He was insightful, she thought. And not just for a guy. “I’m a horrible daughter because I would like her to simply go back to New York or London or wherever she came from and leave me alone.”

“Is that likely?”

“I don’t think so.” She sighed. “Okay, I don’t want to talk about her anymore. Let’s talk about you.”

“My favorite subject.”

She laughed. “I happen to know that’s not true, but we’ll go with it. How’s the Haycation plan coming?”

“I’m making progress.”

She studied him. “The words sound good, but you’re worried. What’s wrong?”

“Self-doubt.”

“It’s a new venture. Of course you’re concerned. Anything specific or just general nerves?”

“I’m a guy, Charlie. I don’t have nerves.”

“My mistake.”

He shrugged. “I hired a farm manager. I had a choice of two and went with the guy who had more experience. Nate.”

“But?”

“My gut wasn’t happy.”

“You should listen to your gut.”

“This time it was wrong.”

“If it was wrong, why aren’t you happy with your decision?”

“I don’t know.”

She scooped more rice onto her plate, thinking he did know the answer, but didn’t want to admit it. “So you have Nate and big farm equipment. That has to make you happy.”

“I’ll feel better when I get my crop in the ground.”

She laughed. “Not a sentence you ever imagined yourself saying?”

“Not really, but it feels good.”

“What is the magic crop?” she asked.

“Fall alfalfa.”

“Which is different from spring or summer alfalfa?”

“It is.”

“Would it make you feel all manly and powerful to explain the difference?”

“I believe it would.”

They continued to talk over dinner.

“Ready to start serious training next week?” she asked.

“You don’t scare me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” She was more concerned about getting everyone to behave. “You tend to bring out the other men’s spirit of competition.”

“Sometimes. The guys in the group aren’t a problem, but in other situations there can be assumptions.”

“Someone wants to pick a fight simply because of who you are?”

“Sure.”

“Which is why you have a black belt.”

He grinned. “I had to protect the moneymakers.”

She wondered which had been more lucrative. His face or the rest of him.

“What’s that old saying?” she asked. “Men want to be you, women want to have you? Are the women easier to handle?”

“I tend to ignore the invitations. When I was first starting out in the business, I took advantage of the offers. That got old pretty quickly. I grew up, figured out what I wanted and was a lot more particular.”

“Then you were married. Ever tempted to stray?”

He stared directly into her eyes. “Not even once. I don’t have that itch. When I fell in love with Diane, I stayed in love with her. Even when we fought, I never thought about it.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “I’m not going to see anyone else while we’re doing this.”

His fingers were warm against her skin. She turned her hand so she could squeeze his back and smiled. “I wasn’t hinting. I know we’re in an unusual circumstance, as my mother would say.”

“Either way. I’m with you until we see this through.”

He flashed her a smile that had her clenching her insides.

He released her hand and rose. “Speaking about our arrangement, I’ve been thinking about the lesson for tonight.”

“Have you?”

She stood, aware that her skin seemed to be extra tingly. Anticipation hummed through her. She was ready for whatever he offered, especially if it involved more touching and kissing.

He reached for the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it off. “I decided we’d get you comfortable with the idea of being na**d.”

Charlie stared at Clay’s bare chest. Of course she’d seen it before—on billboards, in magazines. But this was different. This was right in front of her—live and pretty damned close to perfect.

She tucked her hands behind her and stepped back. “I don’t want to get na**d in front of you. I just ate. My stomach will stick out and I don’t look like those girls in the magazines.”

He moved closer, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “Have I mentioned how much I like that you’re honest?”

“No and you saying that doesn’t solve the problem.”

He stared into her eyes. “There’s no problem.”

“There is for me.”

Unless today’s lesson just involved him getting na**d and she could keep her clothes on. Because she was good with that option.

He reached down and grabbed her hands, then put them on his chest. “Touch me.”