by B. J Daniels
“I’ll get back to you,” he said into the phone. Pocketing the cell, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Buck tried to shake off the premonition of disaster. “Just a little tired.”
“It’s Sarah,” Jerrod said with a groan.
“Why do you say that every time?” Buck demanded, instantly annoyed. He’d spent the past two years defending Sarah to not just Jerrod, but also his daughters and everyone else, including the sheriff.
“Because every time it is Sarah. What has she done now? I thought all was well. Married, living in the main house on the ranch, none of the six daughters causing trouble. What could be wrong with Sarah now?” Jerrod sounded as testy as Buck felt.
“Nothing is wrong with her. I was just resting for a minute.” He’d never been a good liar. “Okay, maybe since the sheriff is worried about election night,” he sighed, “well, then, I guess maybe I should be, too.”
Jerrod shook his head. “Your sheriff has called in the National Guard as well as local law enforcement and Secret Service agents. The only way to make you safer is to move the venue. You want to do that?”
His campaign manager knew he didn’t. “No. Like I said, everything is fine.” He worked up a smile. “If anything, it’s the realization that this is almost over, and a whole other lifetime of dramas is about to begin.”
The younger man laughed. “That’s more like it, Mr. President.”
“Not yet. Don’t jinx it.”
Jerrod made a mocking face. “You got this one. It isn’t even going to be a close race. So relax. A few more days. You up to it?”
Buck straightened, fixed his tie and nodded as Jerrod began to go over his schedule for the last hours up until the election. He half listened, the rest of his mind back on Sarah.
The sheriff was convinced that something was going to happen election night. Buck tried to reassure himself. At least he didn’t have to wonder much longer if his wife would try to kill him.
* * *
SARAH JOHNSON HAMILTON found herself wandering around the huge rambling two-story house feeling empty. Her phone call to her daughter Ainsley had left her feeling a little better. But ultimately her children didn’t know her. She’d lost them, just as she’d lost those missing twenty-two years from her memory.
Since her return from the dead, she had wanted desperately to be back here in this home that she’d shared with Buck and her children. But it felt...strange after all the years she’d been gone. It also felt...temporary since after Buck won the election, they would be living in the White House.
But she knew that wasn’t the only reason she felt out of sorts. During the twenty-two years she’d been presumed dead, her children had all grown up. Now they were all busy with their own lives—lives that had little to do with her. She couldn’t blame them. The younger ones had no memory of her. Her six beautiful daughters had turned out fine without her. Probably better than if she had been here, she thought miserably.
Worse, her secret would be coming out soon—unless she did something. Exhausted and anxious after being on the campaign trail for months, she had begged off Buck’s one last swing through the worrisome states, and returned home.
Buck had been disappointed, but his campaign manager, Jerrod Williston, had said it was exactly what she should do.
“I think it would be smart for you to do some charity events back in Montana these last few weeks before the election,” Jerrod had said. “In fact, I’ve already scheduled one for you.”
She’d started to argue that she didn’t want to do any more of them right now since she knew they had nothing to do with Buck being elected. She suspected that Jerrod just wanted to keep her busy and out of trouble.
“Just one, I promise,” he said. “You need to rest up. Things will get crazy by election night.”
She had laughed at that, fearing how crazy it could get. That and her secret were what kept her awake in the wee hours of the morning. For so long she’d felt trapped, unable to change what she feared was coming until she got all of her memory back. She’d been waiting now for weeks to hear from the one man who could give her the final piece of her memory, Dr. Ralph Venable.
As she moved restlessly through the huge house, she was terrified. Terrified he wouldn’t call. Terrified he would. Dr. Venable had been experimenting with brain-wiping for years. Until recently, she wasn’t sure she believed he had wiped her mind of Buck and the kids all those years ago.
But then she’d seen what he could do. Now she lived in fear of the day he would show up and give her back the rest of her memories—including the one she didn’t want.
After disappearing for twenty-two years and not being able to remember any of it, she’d been petrified of what she’d done those missing years. But as it turned out, it wasn’t those years that she had to worry about. It was her college ones and what she’d done that had now come back to haunt her. How had she gotten involved with an anarchist group that thought they could change the world by bombing buildings and killing innocent people? The answer was love. Or was it lust?
A charismatic handsome young man named Joe Landon must have seen how vulnerable the bright-eyed, innocent Sarah Johnson had been. She’d fallen for him—and his cause, becoming a co-leader of the group for a while. Worse, she’d been told that she had been the true leader of the group, The Prophecy. Since then, though, Joe had taken back over, and, as her scorned former lover, he was determined to pull Sarah in again or die trying.
Sarah stopped in front of a mirror and stared at her reflection. Often she didn’t recognize herself. When you thought you were twenty-two years younger than you were, it messed with your mind.
In the mirror, a blonde, blue-eyed fifty-nine-year-old woman stared back at her. She was still in good shape, still felt no more than thirty-seven, still believed she could do anything. Just as she had in college, she reminded herself with a tremor.
Her fear was that Joe Landon had something big planned for election night. She imagined a huge explosion that would kill them all once the polls were in and Buck had won.
She’d once believed that killing herself would save her family from ever knowing about The Prophecy and her part in it. Failing that, she’d disappeared for twenty-two years only to return with no memory of The Prophecy or the missing years.
But slowly, it was all coming back, thanks to Dr. Venable and Joe’s determination that she would be the woman she’d once been—an anarchist who went by the name of Red. She’d even dyed her hair red, according to the photographs Dr. Venable, or Doc as he was known back then, had shown her of the group.
When she’d realized that Joe and The Prophecy were using her to get to Buck and the presidency, she’d decided to stop them by confessing all to Buck and the sheriff. But Joe, knowing her...intimately, had seen that coming and threatened her daughters to stop her.
Joe had also put a man she loved in the hospital in a coma. Russell Murdock had befriended her when she’d returned to find the life she’d left gone. Buck had remarried, her children didn’t know her, and she didn’t even know this older version of herself.
Russell had been the only one she could trust, the only one she could lean on. He’d also been the one who’d found out the truth about her memory loss and its tie-in to the anarchist group pulling her strings like a puppeteer.
And look what The Prophecy had done to him. Even if he came out of his coma after he’d been attacked, the doctor didn’t have much hope that Russell would ever recover.
No wonder she was terrified. Election night loomed. Her six daughters would be coming home, so they could all be together when their father gave his acceptance speech. When she’d called Ainsley, she’d hoped she would say she couldn’t make it home for election night. But of course all six of Buck’s daughters planned to be there.
Sarah felt as if she was on
a runaway train, and ahead there was nothing but an open abyss. She desperately needed to stop The Prophecy. Stop her former lover Joe Landon. But how, without Joe finding out and retaliating against one of her daughters or her grandchildren?
Her cell phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. She checked caller ID. The hospital was calling. Her heart dropped like a stone. No! Please God, don’t let it be bad news about Russell.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Hamilton, you asked to be called if there was any change in Russell Murdock’s condition...”
Tears burned her eyes. “Yes?”
“He has come out of his coma. The doctor is with him now.”
Sarah hardly remembered thanking the nurse for phoning. She disconnected and burst into tears.
For months since Russell had been attacked she’d prayed for him to come out of the coma. But as more time went on, she knew that his chances worsened. She’d almost given up hope.
Now hope flared. If Russell could testify against the men who’d attacked him, then maybe it would all come out about The Prophecy. She didn’t care if she went to prison as long as Joe was stopped. Russell would know what to do. He had loved her, asked her to marry him, stayed around because he was worried about her. Together they could stop Joe. She prayed The Prophecy was like a house of cards. Once you began removing a few of the cards... Grabbing her purse, she headed for the door.
* * *
AINSLEY KNEW SHE was bound to cross paths with Sawyer at some point. This was a small video production company. Somehow, she’d avoided him almost all morning. But as she was leading her horse out of the stables, her luck ran out.
He walked up leading his horse, and she remembered belatedly that he’d had an early shoot. “I was just thinking about you,” Sawyer said.
“Yes, me, too.” The words were out before she could call them back. She’d been thinking how embarrassed she was, how lucky she’d been to avoid him and half hoping that he’d already done his scene and had left for good. “I mean...I...”
He laughed. “You don’t need to explain.”
She looked away for a moment before turning to face him with a sigh. “About last night—”
“No explanation needed for that either.” He grinned at her, and she was struck by how completely charming he was. “I heard that the landslide yesterday ruined plans to film there. Are you riding out to look for another location?”
She nodded.
“Would you mind if I rode with you? I haven’t seen much of this country around here. I’d love to tag along.” His gaze met hers. “That’s if you don’t mind.”
Ainsley actually felt tongue-tied. She’d known her share of handsome cowboys, but there was something about this one. Not to mention he’d saved her life yesterday, but then she’d embarrassed herself in front of him last night.
“If you’re thinking I’m a walking disaster who needs looking after—”
“I would never think that about you. Anyway, you said you were putting the new Ainsley Hamilton to rest, so there shouldn’t be much saving to be done, darn it.”
She couldn’t help but weaken. He was doing his best to joke away last night and make her less self-conscious. She appreciated that more than he could know. Sawyer Nash was one of only a few people in the world who’d seen her at her worst. And naked, too, she reminded herself with a silent groan.
“Sure, tag along, if you want to.” She ducked her head, hating how juvenile she sounded. It reminded her of the first boy who’d ever asked her out, a high school freshman when she’d been an eighth-grader.
“Great,” Sawyer said. “I’ll get my horse some water before we go,” he said and left her in the cool shadow of the barn as he led his horse over to the water trough.
Ainsley stopped to watch him go. For a moment, he was silhouetted against the daylight. His broad shoulders sculpted in relief. She shook her head at her wayward thoughts and tugged on her horse’s reins to get the mare moving again, telling herself she hadn’t noticed Sawyer’s slim hips or his long legs or how he filled out his Wranglers. It was just like eighth grade all over again, except...except that more daring, carefree Ainsley Hamilton was fighting to get out again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAWYER RODE NEXT to Ainsley, debating telling her who he was and why he’d shown up the way he had. But just minutes ago she’d made it clear that she didn’t like the idea of him riding along because he thought she needed saving.
But damn if she didn’t need saving. That note he’d found on her door had been nagging at him all morning. Her secret admirer was more than a little obsessed with her. Following her from town to town meant he had some means of support rather than a regular job. It also showed how determined he was. A sane man didn’t follow a woman around like that unless...
He looked over at Ainsley. He could see that she was at home in a saddle. There was something so strong and self-assured about her, not to mention beautiful and smart and funny, he thought, remembering this morning when she’d been hiding under the covers. He smiled to himself. He could see where a man might become infatuated with Ainsley Hamilton.
She glanced over at him and smiled as if content with the silence between them. He felt the same way. It was another remarkable fall day. A clear brilliant blue sky hung over the pine-covered mountains. Patches of golden-leafed aspens rustled in the breeze, and an occasional hawk would sweep past overhead, casting a winged shadow over them before disappearing behind a rocky bluff.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, looking out at the Western landscape as they rode along.
“Beautiful,” he said, his gaze on her.
She glanced over at him as if she’d felt his stare on her and knew he wasn’t talking about the country. Her smile was warmer than the sun on his back.
They found several locations that Ainsley thought might suit Gunderson.
“I think that’s enough options,” she said.
“One of the kitchen girls told me about a hot spring up this way,” Sawyer said, not wanting their time together to end just yet. “I’m not sure it would make a location for the commercial, but if you want to see it...”
Ainsley glanced at her watch. He could tell that she was torn. The old Ainsley who always did what was right and prudent needed to get back to Gunderson with her latest ideas. The new Ainsley?
“Are you trying to lead me astray, Mr. Nash?” she asked when she looked up and saw the way he was studying her.
He grinned. “Is it working?”
Again she hesitated. “I suppose we better check it out.”
They rode in silence a short way up a narrow valley until they came to a rock formation set against the mountain. Sawyer could feel Ainsley’s excitement. He assumed it was because this would be a beautiful place for the commercial shoot since the canyon had fallen through, so to speak.
He dismounted, tying his horse to a pine tree, and started to reach for Ainsley, when she swung a leg over her saddle horn and slid down next to him. Feeling like a kid, he took her hand, excited to see the spring.
It was better than he could have imagined. Steam rose from an oval pool of clear water surrounded by large boulders.
“Why didn’t I know about this?” Ainsley demanded of herself.
“I overheard one of the girls who work in the kitchen talking about it. They are planning to ride up here tonight with some boys they know.” He looked up at Montana’s big blue sky overhead. “I bet it is beautiful at night.”
Ainsley was still looking guilty that she hadn’t been aware of it. As if being the location scout, she should know everything about the entire state. She finally looked over at him. “What are you doing?”
He removed his coat, then began unbuttoning his shirt. “Going skinny-dipping.”
“You wouldn’t.”
>
He laughed as he stripped off his shirt. “You were all for it last night.”
“That was different. I was—”
“The new Ainsley Hamilton, the adventurous, the woman who was bound and determined to do everything she’d missed out on.”
She lifted her chin as he reached to unsnap his jeans. “If you think you can tempt me to—”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t mind going in alone.”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “You think I won’t do it.”
Sawyer cocked his head at her. The buttons on his jeans popped out one after another. As he began to shrug out of the denim, she turned her back. He smiled to himself as he stopped to watch her toss aside her jacket, then slowly unbutton her shirt.
He stepped into the warm pool. It quickly became deep. He sank into it, relishing the heat. “It’s perfect!” he called to her. She had taken off everything but her bra and panties. He could see she was about to chicken out. “You won’t want to ride back in wet underwear. I’ve already seen you naked, but I’ll turn around if you like. I can be a perfect gentleman. If that’s what you want.” His words were apparently sufficient.
“I’m not as big a prude as everyone thinks I am,” she called to him without turning in his direction.
He saw her unhook her bra, and he turned around as promised. He heard her enter the water a few moments later. He felt small ripples move against him. “Is it safe to turn around now?”
“I guess so,” she said. She was neck deep in the water. Had the water been clearer he might have been able to see her below the surface. But he didn’t need the view. He’d never forget what she looked like after last night in the moonlight.
He stayed where he was, sensing that’s the way she wanted it. But he was smiling to himself. He was damned proud of whichever Ainsley Hamilton was sharing the pool with him. He admired a woman who accepted a challenge, especially for something out of her comfort zone.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
