by Diana Palmer
She smiled at her reflection. The drape of the gown left just the slopes of her breasts bare. It fell to her ankles, cut low in back, with wide straps and no sleeves. She paired it with diamond-and-emerald drop earrings, an emerald necklace that matched and an emerald-and-diamond dinner ring. She looked expensive, beautiful and happy.
She thought of the evening ahead. When Wolf saw her, his resolution to keep her at arm’s length might go into eclipse. He might offer to take her home. She flushed, thinking about what could happen then. She could tell him much more easily if he was kissing her. She recalled the feel of his mouth, and she flushed even more.
It was going to be, she decided, the happiest night of her life. Wolf would want the baby. She was certain of it.
* * *
SHE HIRED A limousine for the evening. The driver, known to her, eased her into the backseat and drove her to the symphony. The orchestra would be playing Beethoven, not one of her favorite composers. But then, she wasn’t really going to hear it. She was going to see Wolf, for the first time in weeks. Even Michelle’s college graduation hadn’t made her this happy.
She was nervous, but it didn’t show. She spoke to people she knew on the way down the aisle. But her eyes ached for one particular sight, for a tall, handsome man in an evening jacket, a man with black hair and Arctic-blue eyes.
She went to her reserved seat and slid into it. She heard the orchestra already tuning up. She grimaced. She’d hoped to have time for a word with him, but it was going to be too late if he didn’t hurry. He’d told her he’d be here. But what if he didn’t show up?
Just then she saw a movement to her side. She turned, and there he was, so handsome that her heart twisted in her chest. He had a beautiful blonde woman in a white satin gown by his side. He was kissing her, laughing. She was holding on to him as if he held the keys to paradise.
Sara, so confident minutes before, felt her body go rigid with the beginnings of grief.
Wolf saw her and schooled his face to show nothing. Eb had phoned earlier. Ysera had someone working backstage. The man would be watching. Wolf had to put on a good act, to protect Sara. It was going to hurt her. He knew that, and it hurt him. But her life might depend on his ability to act. He’d taken a procession of gorgeous women to events like this over the past few weeks, to throw Ysera’s spies off the track. He had to keep it up. He couldn’t put Sara in danger, even if it meant snubbing her.
“Miss Brandon,” he said with involuntary carelessness, as if she were only an acquaintance. “Cherry, this is Sara Brandon. Her brother is my best friend.”
“So happy to meet you,” Cherry gushed. “What a lovely gown!”
“Not as lovely as yours,” Sara said, hiding her grief.
“I love clothes.” The other woman laughed. “Especially I love wearing them for him.” She looked up at Wolf with her heart in her eyes.
“He loves it, too.” He chuckled, and bent to kiss her.
They sat down beside Sara, who was twisting her theater program into a rope. She averted her eyes to the stage and thanked God that the curtain was going up.
* * *
SHE NEVER KNEW, later, how she managed to get through the evening. Wolf was very polite, but it was as if they’d never talked, never kissed, never been intimate. She had his baby under her heart, and she could never tell him. Not now.
The concert concluded. Sara didn’t even remember which of Beethoven’s symphonies it was. She felt as if this was a dream, as if she wasn’t even really here.
“Wasn’t it lovely?” Cherry enthused. “Such gorgeous music!”
“Yes,” Sara choked out. “Lovely.”
“I hope I’ll see you again sometime, Miss Brandon.”
“Me, too.”
“Good evening, Miss Brandon,” Wolf said without meeting her eyes, and just a faint smile on his hard lips. “Let’s go home,” he told Cherry. “It’s late.”
“Oh, yes, isn’t it?” Cherry replied and giggled as she pressed close to Wolf’s side.
Behind him Sara stood like an elegant statue, her heart breaking inside her, a smile plastered to her face.
At the doorway, Wolf looked back at her. He had to drag his eyes away and harden his heart. If he did what he felt like, gathered her up in his arms and kissed her until the hurt left her beautiful face, he’d put her in the bull’s-eye that he was already wearing. He left the theater smiling, with his heart breaking in his chest. He’d hurt her so much already. This was almost unbearable!
Sara went back to her apartment and cried herself to sleep. Wolf was involved with another woman. He was very involved. He didn’t want Sara. He couldn’t possibly have made that more evident.
She got up in the wee hours of the morning and turned on her computer. The minute she logged on, Rednacht whispered her.
Bad night? he asked.
The worst of my entire life, she confided.
Join the club, he typed.
She wanted to spill her heart out, to tell him what had happened, to cry on his shoulder. But he was a stranger and she was too shy, even with him, to talk about what had happened.
Love, she typed, is the most terrible emotion man ever discovered.
You can take that to the bank, he typed back. There was a hesitation. Someone hurt you.
Yes.
I hurt someone, he typed back slowly. Someone I care about. Because I had to. Because I cared.
That didn’t make sense. Why?
I put her in danger, just by being seen with her.
She recalled that he was in law enforcement. He’d even said that he had enemies. Because of your job, she guessed.
Yes.
Does she know?
I can’t tell her, he replied. He hesitated. Battleground or dungeon? he added. I feel like killing something.
She laughed to herself. So do I, she confessed. Battleground, she said. Higher body count, she added, and a lol.
He laughed back. Group with me. I’ll queue us.
She did, thinking how grand it was to have at least one friend in the world whom she could talk to, in a sense. He had a woman in his life. That made her feel better, because she didn’t really want to get involved with a stranger online. Sadly, the man she wanted didn’t want her. It was a particularly bad time to discover it, too.
* * *
SHE WALKED TO a clinic that was two blocks from her apartment. She went in and out of stores, even took a taxicab for a block, to throw her escorts off the track. She didn’t want this to get back to Wolf. It would hurt him, because he knew her so well. Even if he didn’t want the baby, and how could he with his beautiful blonde companion, he would feel bad that Sara had been forced to go to such lengths. But she would do what she had to do. She was strong. She could manage it.
At least, she thought she could, until she was inside, filling out the paperwork. And right in the middle of it, she burst into tears.
The clerk patted her hand. “Honey, you’re not ready for this,” she said gently. “You go home and think about it for another day or two, okay? Then if you really want to do it, you come back.”
Sara looked into the sympathetic black eyes. “Thanks.”
The woman smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Sara got up and walked out, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t realize that she was being seen. Her escorts weren’t so easy to lose.
* * *
SARA ADVERTISED ONLINE, at a trusted source, for someone to stay with her. Gabriel had suggested it, because he worried about her being by herself, now that Michelle had an apartment of her own. She was alone, and Michelle was so involved in her new job as a reporter for a San Antonio newspaper that she wasn’t really available. Besides, Sara didn’t want her to know about the baby. It wouldn’t be long before she started showing.
She had plans, though. She was going to go to the ranch in Catelow, Wyoming. It would be remote, but she had help there, good help. One of her head wranglers was ex-FBI. Another was a former police
man from Billings, Montana. Nobody would threaten her; she’d be safe. And there would be little chance that she’d ever run into Wofford Patterson, which was the real draw. Of course Wolf did have a ranch himself in Wyoming, and it was very near the Brandons’. But in recent months, he hadn’t visited it. She knew that from Gabriel. Besides, with his beautiful blonde girlfriend, he wasn’t likely to stray so far.
She couldn’t give up her child. She wasn’t going to. For the first time in her life, she’d have someone to love her. She’d have a baby of her very own. The thought made her warm inside. If Wolf found out someday, she’d deal with it. Right now she had other things to organize.
Dr. Medlin had a friend in Sheridan who was an obstetrician. She gave Sara his office number and spoke to the doctor for her, to make sure she could fit into his schedule as a patient. He was fine with that.
Someone had answered the ad Sara placed for a companion online minutes after she placed it. The woman had agreed to come this morning. So when the doorbell rang, Sara went to answer it with vague misgivings. It was a big step, to share her life with a total stranger. She hoped the woman wouldn’t be a kook.
She opened the door, her thoughts full of the baby, and met a pair of dark brown eyes in a frame of pale blond hair gathered into a tight bun. The woman was in her twenties, probably mid-twenties from the look of her. She didn’t smile. Her mouth was pretty, but it made a straight line. Her posture was absolutely rigid.
“Miss...” She looked at the card in her hand. “Miss Brandon? I’m Amelia Grayson.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Miss Grayson. Please come in.”
The woman marched into the living room and took a straight chair. She sat very straight, staring at Sara. “What exactly do you require?”
“A companion,” Sara said heavily.
“For what?” came the slow, suspicious reply.
Sara saw what she was thinking and burst out laughing. “No, not that. I’m sorry. I need someone to keep me company on a ranch in Wyoming,” she said. “It’s mostly men, you see.” She grimaced. “I, sort of, have a hard time with men.”
The other woman relaxed. Well, a little. “So do I,” she said stiffly. “What sort of chores would be expected?”
“I’ll do the cooking,” Sara said. “I’m a gourmet chef. But I’ll need help with housework. I have a dishwasher, all the usual appliances. You’d have Saturday evenings and Sundays off. And I pay quite well.” She named a figure that had the other woman’s jaw dropping.
“Miss Grayson?” Sara prompted.
The jaw closed. “The last place I worked,” she said slowly, “I was expected to do cooking and cleaning and babysit four children, wash the car, walk four dogs and I got Sunday night off. They paid me about one-fifth of the figure you just quoted.” She colored.
“Good Lord!” Sara exploded.
Miss Grayson was less stiff. “Shall we call it a probationary period, for a month, to see if we suit each other?”
Sara smiled. “Done. You can move in today if you like.”
“I’ll live here? I had a separate apartment where I came from...”
“Miss Grayson, you’ve been very badly treated by someone,” Sara said shortly. “But you’re going to be my treasure. Of course you’ll live here. You’ll have insurance and benefits, as well...Miss Grayson!”
The other woman was crying. She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry,” she said abruptly. “Something in my eye.” She looked at Sara and dared her to comment.
Sara smiled. “We’re going to work well together. Quite well. Now let me show you to your room!”
* * *
GRAYSON WASN’T ONLY a treasure, she was a tireless worker. She could do the books, she knew how to sew and knit and crochet, and she was an ongoing handbook for the military, of all things. But when Sara asked if she’d ever been in the military, the other woman just laughed and denied it.
She’d worked for several families in the past four years since graduating from college, with a degree in, of all things, chemistry. She had an incredible brain. Sara was surprised that a woman of such intelligence would be willing to confine herself to menial tasks working as a domestic. But she didn’t pry. It was early days yet. Sara was already delighted with her. She didn’t want to risk losing her by digging into her private life.
* * *
THE WYOMING RANCH was huge. It covered hundreds of acres of land, adjoining a national forest. The ranch ran purebred Black Angus cattle and a small stock of horses, mostly a remuda from which the cowboys chose their working mounts. Sara had a horse of her own, a beautiful Appaloosa mare, snow-white with brown hailstone-patterned markings on her flanks. She was called “Snow,” and Sara loved her dearly. Her greatest sadness was that she was afraid to go riding, in her condition.
Grayson, fortunately, didn’t know about the baby. She kept her secret. She’d noticed that Grayson had a Bible and read it at night while Sara watched movies on the Blu-ray player. A religious person might find her condition, out of wedlock, distasteful. She was reluctant to offend a woman who was quickly becoming indispensable.
* * *
THE NIGHTMARES HAD receded for a time. But back in Wyoming, they returned with a vengeance. She sat up in bed, having screamed herself awake, drenched with sweat and crying.
Grayson came running, in a long gown and an equally long robe, both of serviceable cotton.
“Miss Brandon, what is it?” she exclaimed. Her long hair was escaping from its bun. She looked very unlike the prim, sedate young woman Sara had come to know.
“Night...mare,” Sara choked out. She leaned her head on her raised knees. “Sorry. I should have told you that I have them.” Tears fell harder.
“I’ll be right back,” Grayson said.
She returned a minute later with a wet washcloth, sat down beside Sara and proceeded to mop up her face. “I put on some chamomile tea,” she said gently. “Come into the kitchen.”
Sara slid into a robe that matched her cotton jersey pajamas and went almost stumbling behind Grayson into the kitchen. She sat down at the table. For some reason, this time Wolf had been in the dream. He’d been in some dark, dangerous place. She didn’t remember much of it, but there had been blood. So much blood...!
“Here.” Grayson put a cup of tea in front of her. “You drink that. It will help calm you.”
“Thanks, Miss Grayson,” Sara said huskily. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry...”
“Everybody has nightmares,” the other woman said gently.
Sara smiled sadly. “Not like mine, I’m afraid.”
“Something bad happened to you,” was the surprising reply.
Sara’s eyes came up, shocked.
Grayson nodded. “When you were a child?”
Sara bit her lower lip.
“You don’t have to talk to me about it. But you should talk to someone.”
Sara laughed softly. “I have a psychologist. We have sessions on Skype.” Her black eyes gleamed with faint humor. “She keeps snakes.”
Grayson frowned. “Emma Cain?”
Sara gasped. “How in the world...?”
“Don’t ask. I won’t tell you.”
Sara opened her mouth and then closed it.
“That’s right, fight those impulses,” Grayson said with a hint of humor. “I don’t talk about my past, either.”
Sara was intrigued. Her eyebrows arched.
“Shame, shame on you for thinking things like that!” the other woman said tartly. “You should have your brain washed out with soap!”
Sara burst out laughing.
Grayson actually grinned. “That’s all better.”
Sara sighed and shook her head. “Grayson, you’re the best idea I ever had in my life. And if you ever try to quit, I’ll have Marsden track you down and bring you right back.”
“Marsden?”
“He’s a former FBI agent. Our foreman here.”
“Oh, that tall man. He’s nice.”<
br />
“Very.” Sara sipped her tea. She was feeling a little queasy, but the liquid really was calming. “This is good.”
“I like herbal teas. You drink too much coffee,” she said gently.
“It’s decaf,” Sara said. “I just make it strong. I can’t give it up entirely.”
“I had to,” Grayson said sadly. “I miss it.”
“You could have decaf.”
“It would be like eating steak through a straw.”
Sara laughed again. “Okay, I give up.”
“Good thing. I almost never lose a battle.” She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I’m so glad you wanted to move up here instead of down to Comanche Wells,” she said conversationally.
“But the ranch there is just like this one,” she began, puzzled.
“He lives in Comanche Wells,” she said through her teeth.
“He?”
“A man I...know,” she faltered. “I’m never going back there.”
Sara felt sympathy pains. She thought of Wolf’s huge ranch, and the joy she’d felt at being with him, despite the troubling intimate memories she shared with him. He hadn’t called after the opera. She’d hoped that he might call, or text, or tell her it was a mistake, he didn’t care about his gorgeous companion. But that was stupid. It was painfully obvious that he didn’t want Sara. She had to learn to accept it.
“Don’t worry,” Sara said gently. “I don’t ever want to go back to Comanche Wells, either.”
Grayson looked at her evenly.
“For the same reason you have,” she said stiffly.
“Oh.” Grayson sipped her own tea. She looked thoughtful. But after a minute, her face became placid again. “Think you can sleep now?”
Sara smiled drowsily. “I think so. Thanks, Grayson. Thanks very much.”
“It was no trouble at all,” she replied.
* * *
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS,” Eb Scott raged. “You’ll be walking headfirst into a trap if you go near her, don’t you know that?”
The tall man with blue eyes wasn’t listening. He was assembling his gear, putting on clothes that would alert any intelligent viewer that he was highly involved in black ops. Black clothing, Velcro holster that strapped around one powerful thigh, automatic weapons, leather gloves, combat boots. He looked professional. Which he was.
