"I prefer to make my own judgments, and I base them on the man, not the father."

"I could give you ten reasons not to believe I'm innocent."

Her gaze roamed across his face, searching for something. He didn't know what.

"I'd never mistake you for innocent, Zach, but that doesn't necessarily make you dishonorable. Why don't you come to Golden's with me," she suggested.

"I should get back to the farm."

"Walk with me. Tell me about your horse. Maggie said everyone around here is worried that somehow your colt will sneak past them and win the Derby. Is that true?"

"That they're worried or that Rogue will win?"

"Either one."

Against his better judgment, Zach couldn't help falling into step with her. "I think he can win, but we'll have to wait and see."

"The last time I went to the horse races was at Santa Anita. I sat in the Turf Club and lost every race."

"The Turf Club?" He stopped, put his hands on his hips, and shook his head in mock despair. "How can you pick the right horse when you're sitting three floors up at a fancy table, eating off china and drinking some high-priced wine?"

"Where should I be?"

"Down by the track, out in the paddock, watching the jockeys mount up. Better yet, try an early morning workout when the steam coming off the Styrofoam coffee cups will curl your hair. That's when the horses show their real stuff."

"Are you a gambler, Zach?"

"I'm in the racehorse business, Kat. What else could I possibly be?"

"Oh, I don't know. I think there are gamblers and there are gamblers."

"The distinction being?"

"Those who can stop when their wallet is empty and those who would sell their souls for a two-dollar chance."

"The latter."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe it. I've invested my soul in my horse. With him goes everything I have."

"That's an awful lot of weight to put on your horse's back."

"He can handle it."

"What's his name?"

"Midnight Rogue."

"Rogue? Like his owner?"

He wasn't about to touch that one. "Midnight for his black coat and rogue because no one knows what he's going to do, including me. Not to mention the fact that he has an eye for the fillies."

"Like his owner?" she repeated with an enticing twinkle in her eye.

He scowled at her. "Are you flirting with me?"

"No way! A man like you, who everyone hates, who would sell his soul at a horse race? I'd have to be crazy to flirt with you."

"I think you are," he muttered, looking deep into her eyes.

He heard her catch her breath, a tiny sound that made him want to make her do it again. Maybe if he touched her ... if he kissed her...

Katherine cleared her throat, breaking the spell between them. "We're not getting very far, are we?"

"Actually, I thought we were moving along quite nicely," Zach said dryly as she started walking again.

"I've never been in such a small town before," she said somewhat dreamily. "No one knows anybody in L.A. Most people live in their cars. It's so fast, so crowded, so impersonal."

"You live in L.A.?"

"Beverly Hills."

"The land of the rich and famous, big houses, wide streets, and long cars."

"Yes, but you can get lost in those big houses, wide streets, and long cars," she replied, a sad note in her voice.

"Did you?"

She paused at the corner and glanced at him. "If no one ever looks for you, are you lost?"

"I don't know. Is that like if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound?"

She laughed, and he was pleased to see the light come back in her eyes. For a moment there, she'd looked incredibly lonely. And he couldn't imagine why. She had beauty, personality, guts. Who wouldn't look for her? h.e.l.l, who would let her out of their sight in the first place?

Katherine checked for traffic, then carried on, her short skirt swirling around her legs, making him catch his breath once more. He knew about legs, long, sleek legs that could run like the wind. But her legs-they put all others to shame.

"What happened to your mother?" he asked abruptly, trying to get his attention off of her legs.

When she reached the opposite corner, Katherine stopped. "My mother died in a car accident when I was twelve."

"Sorry."

"It was a long time ago. My stepfather got stuck with me. He'd been married to my mom for only a short while before she died. He was nice enough to keep me anyway."

Zach told himself to start walking, to stop talking. There was no point in learning any more about her, but for some reason he couldn't let it go. "He doesn't mind that you're looking for your biological father?"

"No, he doesn't mind. Maybe he's hoping I'll find my real father and get out of his life."

"I doubt anyone could let go of you that easily," Zach said, surprising himself as much as her.

"Thanks," she said, meeting his eyes with a grateful smile. "That's nice of you to say, even if it's not true."

Zach heard the pain in her voice and felt a sense of kinship with a woman he'd never expected to have anything in common with. They came from completely different backgrounds, but he knew what it was like to feel unwanted.

Katherine took off down the street, putting an end to any further conversation. She didn't stop until she reached the door to Golden's. She looked surprised to see Zach still behind her. "Are you still here? I thought you were a busy man with all kinds of work to do."

"I'm thirsty," he muttered. "As long as I'm this close, I might as well get a beer."

"And I thought you might want to help me."

"I can get into enough trouble on my own."

"Do you want to go first?" she asked hopefully. "Just in case there are any drinks flying."

"No way."

"That's not very gallant."

"I told you-"

"I know. You're not innocent. You're not gallant. You're not a white knight. Jeez, I got it already. I might be on a wild-goose chase, but I'm not playing Cinderella. I gave up on finding a prince a long time ago."

"That's not true. You're hoping your father will turn out to be the most incredible man in the world. A prince among men. You're headed for a big fall, sweetheart."

She looked into his eyes. "Are you going to stick around to catch me?"

Chapter 6.

Zach didn't answer her question. What did she want him to say? That he'd taken one look at her and fallen head over heels? No, Zach Tyler wasn't a man to fall any which way. He was in absolute control. He never seemed relaxed. His hands were often clenched at his sides, and he always looked like he was ready to bolt at any second. Only, he hadn't left. He was still with her, standing in front of the door to Golden's Grill.

"I'd probably drop you," he said finally. "Are we going inside?"

"I am. You can do what you want."

"I always do."

Katherine opened the door to the bar and grill and stepped inside. There were a few people sitting at the tables near the grill, but the bar area up front was empty.

The restaurant was an entirely different place today. The ambience was dark, quiet, and cool. Even the jukebox was playing a hushed tune. Katherine could understand why the cozy darkness of Golden's would have appealed to two young lovers. She wondered if her mother and father had met secretly, if their families had known of their trysts.

"You want a drink?" Zach asked.

"Mineral water."

He rolled his eyes. "Figures. City drink for a city girl."

"You asked." She picked a table in the corner and sat down while Zach went up to the bar to place their order.

Looking around the room, Katherine noted the details she'd missed the night before. One wall was covered with banners and signs from every horse farm in the area. The tables were made of thick, round oak, the chairs just as st.u.r.dy. The floor was hardwood, covered in spots with empty peanut sh.e.l.ls and pieces of straw.

It was a working man's bar. One without pretense, just good liquor, comfortable chairs, and a big-screen television, which even now was showing a horse race from some track somewhere in the world.

Her gaze drifted away from the big screen to the far wall, which was covered in photographs. Getting to her feet, she went over to explore. The first picture, of a young girl astride a horse, caught her by surprise. It tugged at a distant memory, and for a moment all she could do was stand and stare at it. Was the girl familiar? Was the horse familiar? She didn't recognize either one, but it reminded her...

She caught her breath as the memory came to mind. She'd found a book in one of her mother's drawers. In leafing through the pages, a photograph had fallen out. She could see the picture clearly, a young girl sitting astride a large chestnut-colored horse. Her mother had come into the room then and s.n.a.t.c.hed the photograph out of her hand, dismissing its importance with a laugh. At the time, Katherine hadn't thought to ask any more about it. But the girl on the horse had definitely been her mother.

Katherine looked back at the photograph in front of her. This girl was not her mother. She looked far happier to be sitting on a horse than her mother had ever looked. Katherine moved on to the next photo, of a group of people standing in a winner's circle with some horse. The photo was signed "to Justin with best regards, the Marronis." Whoever they were.

"I've got your fancy water, Kat," Zach said, setting it down at the table where she'd been sitting. "And Justin here wants to talk to you."

Katherine returned to the table, taking a better look at the man standing next to Zach. Dressed in black pants and a white shirt, he was obviously a bartender or waiter. He wasn't handsome, but he was appealing, probably because he smiled with blue eyes that twinkled and welcomed her without his saying a word.

"This is Justin Blakemore," Zach said. "He owns this bar and serves up drinks most days."

"And hands out dry towels, as I recall. I'm Katherine Whitfield."

Justin stuck out his hand and Katherine took it, pleased by his warm, friendly grip.

"Glad to see you dried off," Justin said with a concerned expression. "Believe it or not, we don't usually have gla.s.ses flying around in here."

"Just my bad luck, I guess."

"Drinks are on the house today, and anything else you want," Justin said. "I'd hate to leave you with a bad impression of Golden's."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. Oh, wait." Katherine stopped him before she could even think about what she was going to say. She glanced over at Zach. His warning look only encouraged her to go forward. She had to start somewhere, and at least Justin was approachable. "I wonder if you could answer a few questions for me."

Justin's eyes narrowed and he didn't look quite as affable as he had before. "Reporter?"

"No. No." She shook her head. "I'm looking for someone who may have lived here a long time ago."

"Who?"

Zach uttered a short laugh, which he quickly swallowed when she glared at him.

"I'm not sure exactly," she said. "Have you worked at Golden's a long time?"

"My whole life. My grandfather started the bar. My father ran it, and I took it over from him about fifteen years ago."

"Then you were here in 1972?"

"In 1972?" Justin rubbed his jaw. "Yeah. I was here. Haven't been anywhere else really."