DEADLY INTENTIONS
Connor was about to move away from the window when a movement at the edge of the woods caught her eye. She stared at the woods, willing the person to come out again. How many times had she stood at that same window and searched the orchard for someone? How many times would she have to do it again? The thought was chilling.
As if in answer to her call, a figure stepped out of the dense foliage into the clearing. Long auburn curls hung on her shoulders. The black satin dress was a perfect duplicate of Connor’s wedding dress. The short black veil hid the woman’s features. She lifted a single red rose, pointed it directly at Connor, then dropped it to the ground and crushed it beneath her heel before she turned and ran back into the woods.
Stunned, Connor gripped the windowsill. She grabbed the wooden frame and pushed the heavy window open, leaning out.
“Connor!” Elvie’s hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back in. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
“She’s out there,” Connor said. “I saw her.” The significance of the dress had not been lost. “She means to kill me, Elvie….”
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deception
CAROLYN HAINES
a division of F+W Media, Inc.
This book is dedicated to the storytellers I’ve been fortunate enough to know, personally and through the pages of books and stories. A million thanks to the members of the Deep South Salon and my friends and family who have supported me. And special thanks to Ian Gaston. His time and support are invaluable.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Fever Moon
Also Available
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
The signature was bold, a black scrawl of confidence, but it was the amount on the check that impressed Connor Tremaine. Fifteen thousand dollars. Up front. One-third the amount she would receive—if she agreed to the terms of the contract. Fifteen thousand dollars for three months’ work.
She tucked the check into the pocket of her riding breeches and threw the envelope and contract on the seat of her Trooper. The money gave her a warm, secure feeling, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to jump to any rash decisions. It was a long move from sunny California to the backwater state of Alabama. And the job was peculiar, especially the overgenerous pay. She knew she had a growing reputation as a horse trainer, but there were plenty of others with good reps, probably even in Alabama. She smiled slightly at the California arrogance of that thought. She wasn’t even from the West Coast, but three years of living there had given her an attitude—and a name as one of the best trainers/riding instructors around, especially with children.
Twenty-seven years of living all over the United States had given her a sense of self-preservation. Connor had learned not to jump in any direction too fast. She picked up the contract to read it more carefully. She was cautious, but she was interested.
“Connor! The most desirable … riding mistress … on the West Coast.”
She recognized Richard Brian’s voice and looked up with a grin. He was waving to her from the barn, and even at a distance he was a strikingly handsome man. “Go ahead and saddle up; I’m coming in a minute.” Folding the contract, she dropped in on the Trooper seat. She needed to talk to Richard, and not about horses. With long strides she walked toward the barn.
Leather and horses created a pleasant odor in the cool interior. Connor leaned against a stall as she silently watched Richard saddle the big gray gelding. Her mind was on the job offer she’d just received, but she kept a professional eye on the man’s movements.
“Check the girth twice,” she said automatically. “You know Spartacus holds his breath.”
“Right.” He turned to her, and the light caught the amber flecks in his hazel eyes. “Something on your mind, Connor?”
“You still read me too well. There should be a law that says when people stop being lovers, the ability to glean each other’s worries disappears.”
Looking over the withers of the horse, he smiled. “We’re better friends than we ever were lovers. Not that you weren’t something between the sheets.”
Connor shook her head but couldn’t hold back her smile. Richard was right. They were good friends. When the passion that had ignited their relationship had burned out two years before, they’d discovered a lasting bond that was in many ways deeper than anything they’d ever shared as lovers. “No wonder the women swarm over you. What a flatterer.”
“If you don’t want to talk about your secrets, I’ll talk about my riding.” He rechecked the girth. “I want to jump today. I hear Penny Marshall is doing something soon with some parts for jumpers. I could stand a little major-motion-picture exposure.”
“We can jump, but nothing higher than two-nine. You won’t be doing any major motion of any kind if you break your neck.”
He nodded and began the process of bridling the horse. “I love a woman who gives orders. I mean, that’s why I left Mobile. All those little Junior League belles were too mealy-mout
hed. No starch in their spines.” He grinned at Connor through the dangling reins. “Or spice in the bedroom. Not like with you California girls.”
Connor couldn’t help but laugh. Richard was outrageous. “You forget, I’m not from California. But speaking of Mobile, I got a letter from Clay Sumner today. A letter and a check.”
There was a second of silence as Richard finished buckling the figure-eight noseband. “I’ll bet the check was generous.”
“Very.” Connor’s excitement came through in that one word.
“When I heard Clay was looking for someone to teach his kids to ride and to train his horses, I told him you were the best money could buy.”
“I’m not sure he couldn’t find someone local for a lot less money.” An impatient horse pawed in the stall next to Richard.
“Clay has plenty of money, Connor. Plenty.”
“It’s a long way to move.”
“If you’re looking to me to talk you into the job, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not certain you should take it. I have my own reservations—about a lot of things that go with that job. But you said you wanted a change. You’ve talked about that damn breeding farm you want since the first day I met you, and I do know that Clay Sumner has the capital to give you a down payment.”
A thin edge of anger had crept into Richard’s voice. He was trying to hide it, but Connor knew him as well as he knew her. He’d told her about the job, and then recommended her for it. Now he was upset at the prospect that she might actually take it.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said honestly. “With Dad out of the country, you’re my sounding board, I suppose. Friends get to do all the fun stuff.”
“I’d certainly hate to see you go. For personal reasons, and also because I don’t like the idea of you in Mobile with men like Clay after you.”
“That’s hardly my biggest concern.” She walked around the horse and went to stand beside Richard. She was tall, and he still had a good four inches on her. It was an enjoyable difference. “The idea of leaving my friends, my home. It’s more than a little scary.”
“Wherever you go, Connor, you’ll have friends.” Richard brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
Not for the first time Connor thought that his youthful good looks and gym-designed body worked against him. Behind that chiseled face was a very serious man, an educated and intelligent man. It was a shame that he was often typecast as a nonverbal beach bum or a GQ cardboard cutout.
“Tell me about Sumner,” she said. “You said he’s a politician with a law practice?
“Clay and I went to MMS, this fascist military school for boys.” A daredevil gleam lighted his eyes. “We both resisted the Third Reich indoctrination, and the first time we met was for disciplinary action. That’s how we became friends. Clay was two years ahead of me, but we were kindred spirits. Troublemakers.” He put his arm around her shoulders as they started to walk out of the barn. “We were rebels!”
“I can believe it,” Connor said. “I’m surprised you didn’t go to reform school.”
“Impossible. We were from ‘good’ families. Our parents bought our way out of any trouble we got into.”
“Always?” It was an interesting possibility.
“Almost always.”
“So are you still good friends? I mean, you recommended me for the job, and Clay took your recommendation seriously.”
Richard stopped. His arm slipped off her shoulders. “Connor, I wrote Clay a letter about you because I care for you. I wanted you to have a chance at your dream. Clay and I grew apart. We haven’t really spoken in years. I knew his wife, Talla … anyway, Clay became a rich lawyer, won a seat as a state representative, one term; state senator, two terms. In Alabama that’s a part-time job, and he maintained his lucrative law practice. He was set to run for governor, but he pulled out at the last minute.” Richard looked at the dirt aisle and shrugged. “Now I hear he’s got a chance at a Senate seat. Remember that plane crash two weeks ago, when Sam Black went down?”
Connor shook her head. Her life was so far removed from politics, and she’d lived in so many different places that getting involved in local issues had been hard. She was ashamed to admit it, but she hadn’t even voted in the last presidential election.
“Well, old Sam Black was Alabama’s senior senator. He was older than dirt, and he had a lot of clout. Now his seat is open. Clay’s supporters think they can push him in there.”
“Can they?”
Richard shrugged. “Mobile is the bastard child of Alabama, meaning we aren’t fairly represented in contrast to Birmingham and the northern portion of the state. There’ll be a big effort to put a Mobile boy in that seat. Clay’s is an old Mobile name, one with a lot of background. Through the years his family has accrued significant personal debts from influential people. He might be able to generate the necessary funds to buy enough television time. He’s a handsome man. The women will all vote for him.”
“I refuse to rise to that sexist bait. Besides, I’d rather hear about Clay Sumner than reduce you to a mass of quivering corpuscles on the barn floor.”
A tiny furrow marred Richard’s face. “Clay’s a good businessman, Connor, as far as I know. He’s been through some hard times.” He patted the horse’s neck. “Really hard times. That does things to a person, and as I said, I haven’t been around him in a long time. I’m glad to see he’s riding again. He’s always loved horses, and I was sorry when I heard he’d given them up several years back. From what I hear, those children need some attention and discipline. This looks like Clay’s way of reaching out to them.”
“You think he’d be okay to work for?” It was a damn tempting offer. As Richard had so succinctly pointed out, she was more than ready for a change, and this Mobile job combined the elements of change, challenge, and money.
“I think Clay would honor his word.” He hesitated. “I’ve never heard anything bad about him as a lawyer or in any business dealing. He does his homework for his clients, and he appears in court well prepared and ready to fight.”
“You’re saying he’s a man of integrity.”
Richard swallowed. “I don’t think you could find a better man to work for, and I know he cares about his children. Just don’t …” he stopped.
“Don’t what?” Connor zeroed in on the uneasiness in Richard’s manner.
“Don’t get involved with him on a personal level, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Richard, you of all people should know I’m not in the habit of forming casual relationships, especially with my employers.”
“Wait a minute.” He frowned in exasperation. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s just that Clay is a very handsome man. Before he married, he seldom had to do more than arch an eyebrow at a woman. He just has that kind of appeal. And, well, there’s been talk through the years about women. Harsh talk, Connor.”
“Afraid I’ll go down to the conservative South and besmirch my reputation?” She tried to lighten the mood. Of all the things she’d ever expected of Richard Brian, worrying about someone’s sexual behavior wasn’t one of them. It was touching, in an odd sort of way, that he cared that much for her.
Richard looked at her for a second, and he didn’t smile. “I’m not worried that you’ll be tarred and feathered as a loose woman, Connor, although Mobile hasn’t progressed much beyond that kind of behavior. There’s something odd about Clay and his personal relationships. If you take the job, just teach the kids to ride, and train his horses. Save your money and then get the hell out of there. Mobile isn’t the place for you, and Clay Sumner isn’t someone you want to be involved with.”
“If I take the job, I’ll remember that.” She cut the comedy from her tone. She put her hand on his arm and squeezed. “You’re a good friend, Richard. Thanks for the recommendation, and the warning.”
“This could be your ticket to the farm you always wanted, Connor. It’s a great opportunity. I think you’d be a fool to
turn it down. Just get in, get your money, and get out. Come back this way.”
She shook her head with a rueful smile. “I couldn’t afford two acres and a rickety shack here. No, if I go to Mobile, I’ll probably stay in the South somewhere. Land prices are at least within reason.”
“You’ve given this some thought, haven’t you?”
“I’ve thought about nothing else since I got the offer two days ago. I’m weighing the options, but I haven’t decided.”
“Didn’t you say you had family down toward Mobile?”
She shook her head. “None living. My mother’s family lived around there briefly a hundred years ago, but they didn’t stay. I don’t think anyone is left.”
“Watch out, there might be a few round-headed cousins with pink eyes living out in the swamps. Back off in those woods, people have strange family relationships. Family is real important. Real, real important. And real close.” The devil glinted in his eyes, though he kept a straight face.
“Thanks. What a pleasant thought.” She rolled her eyes. “Now let’s get on with your lesson if you want to impress Penny Marshall with your equestrian skills.”
They were almost at the jump field when a tall, slender man in riding breeches hurried to Connor.
“The Houston brat is in the stall with Copper. She’s going to get her face bitten off.”
Connor looked up at the friendly warning from Jake Elton, another trainer at Pacific Heights Stables.
“Thanks, Jake.” Connor motioned Richard up on the horse. “Warm up. I’ll be there in a moment.” She turned her steps toward the west wing of the barn. Prescott “Pebbles” Houston was a spoiled bitch, and one of Connor’s students who drove her to the brink of her patience.
Connor slowed her steps as she approached Copper’s stall. She could hear the horse shifting from side to side, trying to avoid the ten-year-old nuisance.
“Stand still, dammit,” the child ordered. There was the sound of hand meeting hide as Pebbles slapped the fidgeting animal.
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