“I never play with fire.” She paused. “I’ve never met fire before.”

Every muscle in Sawyer’s body clenched tight.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being manipulated. But he also couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t know who he was, or she’d already have run for the hills.

“We have to go back,” he told her. If they didn’t leave now, he was going to kiss her all over again.

“Thanks,” she told him softly, innocently, all traces of teasing replaced by sincerity. “For everything.”

Sawyer turned for the shore, ruthlessly switching his mind to his uncle’s dilemma and the dire price his family would pay if he failed. He couldn’t afford to lose focus.

He couldn’t afford to let Niki get under his skin.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to book four of the COLORADO CATTLE BARONS series. With each story, I’m enjoying the Terrell and Jacobs families more and more.

In Millionaire in a Stetson, the Terrell brothers discover they have a secret half-sister. Niki Gerrard is in serious trouble and runs to her newly discovered half-brothers to hide out under a secret identity. Washington, DC, mover and shaker Sawyer Layton, using a disguise of his own, tracks her down in Lyndon Valley to save his family from ruin.

In this day and age of technology and social media, knowing how many people are reuniting with their own family members, it was great fun to write a secret sibling story.

I hope you enjoy it!

Barbara

About the Author

BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.barbaradunlop.com.

Millionaire in
a Stetson
Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Prologue

In a magnificently appointed private room at the Seabreeze Hospital in Washington, D.C., Niki Gerard held her sleeping mother’s pale hand.

The hospital specialized in discreet service for wealthy clients, so plush sofas replaced vinyl, institutional chairs, while the walls were painted in rich colors, adorned with original art and ornate crown moldings. An armoire held Gabriella Gerard’s designer nightwear and robes. And a forty-inch plasma screen, which was connected to a keyboard for email and internet access hung on the far wall. Beneath it, there was a comfortable day bed, should a relative wish to spend the night.

But nothing could completely hide that this was a medical facility. A heart monitor beeped softly next to the bed, green numbers counting off, sending up corresponding spikes on the little graph in the background. An IV bag dripped morphine into the back of that hand of Gabriella’s. She was too thin, only five pounds from her ideal weight, but Niki had discovered during these past two weeks that thin from a healthy diet and exercise looked different than thin from illness.

At forty years old, her mother had contracted a rare virus. She’d barely survived the high fever, and the ordeal had weakened her heart, also taking a toll on her aorta.

Gabriella’s brilliant blue eyes fluttered open.

“Niki?” She appeared both confused and fearful.

“I’m here, Mom.”

Gabriella convulsively squeezed Niki’s hand. “Protect yourself.”

“I’m fine.” Niki gave her mother’s hand a gentle stroke of reassurance. “You need to rest, not to worry about me.”

Gabriella’s gaze darted around the room, and she stage whispered, “You know where the money is?”

“You told me yesterday.” Niki nodded. “It’s in Switzerland.”

“You’ll need it.”

Niki knew the size of her mother’s investments here in D.C., so the statement didn’t make sense. Not unless Niki had plans to buy a luxury hotel or a cruise ship in the near future.

“Tell me,” Gabriella insisted.

“My birthday, your birthday and our building address.” Niki repeated the code to access the account.

She’d hoped the increased morphine would calm her mother, not make her more agitated.

“Don’t let them get it,” Gabriella gasped.

“Who would get it?”

“Don’t trust them. Don’t trust any of them.”

“Mom. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Nobody can get the money.”

“I mean it, Niki. The diary is your only hope. It’ll keep you safe, keep them from …” Gabriella seemed confused again. “Wilton.” She sighed. “How I wish …”

The diary? Gabriella was worried about her diary? Though she’d never seen it, Niki knew her mother had kept a diary for many years. She’d joked about the power of its secrets, mocking the married men who’d had affairs with her.

Gabriella focused intently on Niki now, leaning up. “They know. Too many people know—” Her blue eyes suddenly went wide. She cried in obvious pain, collapsing back on the bed.

Niki rose from her chair. “Mom?”

“Don’t let them get the diary.” Gabriella sucked in a few sharp breaths, then her jaw clenched tight.

Niki’s throat closed over, and her chest ballooned with fear. She reached for the nurse’s call button, pressing it hard with her thumb. “Mom?”

Gabriella’s eyes blinked open, but there was something wrong. Her pupils were huge, and her brilliant blue irises had become translucent.

Two hot tears rolled down Niki’s cheeks. “The nurse is coming. Hang on, Mom.”

But the breath eased out of Gabriella’s lungs. Then, just like in the movies, the heart monitor screeched out a solid beep. The line went flat.

Within seconds, two nurses sprinted into the room.

They crowded the bed, firmly elbowing Niki out of the way. She barely remembered to breathe as Gabriella’s hand slipped from hers. Her brain fogged over in a daze.

An eternity seemed to pass, people coming and going, calling instructions to each other. But then, the urgency left their movements. Their voices went calm. Someone gently pulled the sheet over her mother’s face. And a nurse led Niki to a chair in the hallway.

Gabriella was gone. Niki’s beautiful, vivacious, irrepressible, fun-loving mother had died far too soon.

Niki felt a shiver run up her spine, and she had an eerie sensation of being watched. For a split second, Niki believed in ghosts. But then she glanced down the hallway to find a man in a business suit staring hard in her direction. Before she could react, he turned abruptly, banging his way through a set of double doors.

Gabriella’s words flooded back to her. There were secrets in a diary, money in a Swiss bank account and a mysterious them for Niki to worry about.

“Oh, Mom,” she moaned under her breath. “What did you do?”

One

The trouble with living a lie, Niki discovered three months later, wasn’t that you might get caught. It was that, eventually, you wanted it to be true. And that moment came when Sawyer Smith arrived at her half brother’s newly framed ranch house.

Late-afternoon sun rays slanted through the empty window openings, turning the dust flecks to sparkles, and highlighting planes and angles of Sawyer’s striking face. He was neater than most cowboys, clean shaven, hair trimmed short. But his stance was easy, shoulders square, hands wide and capable.

Niki was crouched on the rough plywood floor of the kitchen, power drill in her hand. She was putting holes in the two-by-fours in preparation for running the electrical cables. Her jeans were dirty, the heels of her palms scratched and red. She had sawdust in her hair, and her serviceable, green T-shirt was streaked with sweat.

“I took possession of the Raklin place yesterday.” Sawyer spoke to her half-brother Reed, his deep voice carrying across the open rooms.

Niki watched covertly between the studs of the skeleton walls. Reed was an imposing figure, broad shouldered, heavily muscled, at a height of six-feet four. But Sawyer held his own. He was a little shorter, a little leaner, obviously athletic. And he was cover-model sexy, with the most startling, deep blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“Welcome to Lyndon Valley,” Reed responded, reaching out to shake Sawyer’s hand.

Sawyer’s gaze met Niki’s, and she quickly refocused on her work, embarrassed to be caught checking him out. She revved up the drill and lined up for the next spot that had been marked by the electrician. She eased the bit through the fibrous wood, her arm vibrating all the way to her shoulder.

Up to now, she would have sworn she was only attracted to the urbane, classy type. But, apparently she’d reassessed. At some point, after her life had taken a one-eighty, forcing her to flee Washington, D.C., for the wilds of Colorado cattle country, cowboys must have started to look good.

Not that it mattered. Nobody was going to be remotely interested in her while she looked like this.

When she’d lived in D.C., her hair had been long, wavy blond, always cleanly cut and highlighted to perfection. She’d never left the penthouse without her contacts, perfect makeup, fine jewelry and designer shoes. She preferred cultured entertainment and five-star restaurants. Her mother had taught her that if a man didn’t own a Mercedes or a Jaguar, he might as well ride a bicycle.

But that had been Niki Gerard. Here in Lyndon Valley, she was Nellie Cooper, innocuous half sister of Reed and Caleb Terrell. Her hair was cut short and dyed brown. Her sensible glasses were perched on a sunburned, slightly freckled nose. She hadn’t worn makeup in weeks, and her blue jeans had cost twenty-five dollars down at the Lyndon City Co-op.

Nobody from her old life would ever recognize her. But then that was the point.

“Hey, Nellie,” Reed called from the entry hall, his deep voice booming above the high pitch of her drill.

She released the trigger, and the motor whined to a stop as she glanced up.

“Come meet our new neighbor.”

Niki hauled herself to her feet, conscious of her sweaty, dusty appearance, telling herself that it didn’t matter. She was working on a construction site, not waltzing into the ballroom of the St. Regis. Sawyer seemed to scrutinize her as she approached, and she couldn’t help but wonder what stood out for him. The dirt? The sweat? The glasses? The plain-Jane hair?

“This is my sister,” Reed introduced, motioning her farther forward.

Though they’d met for the first time three months ago, Reed never referred to her as his half sister. Neither did his fraternal twin Caleb. From the moment the DNA tests had come back positive, Niki had been welcomed into the Terrell family with open arms. Her newfound brothers had turned out to be solid, smart, dependable men. And with every day that went by, she regretted her lies to them more and more.

She wiped her hands across the front of her jeans as she stepped her way around a pair of sawhorses and over an air-compressor line. “Hello,” she greeted Sawyer, swallowing the hormonal reaction that grew more intense as she neared.

He gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment. There was some kind of a question lurking deep in his blue eyes, but it quickly disappeared, and his expression smoothed out.

“Sawyer Smith,” he intoned in a pleasantly mellow voice, holding out his hand.

“Nellie Cooper,” she returned, her own voice slightly breathless as his hand closed over hers.

His was warm, strong and commanding, sending pulses of awareness skittering along her nervous system.

“I just bought the Raklin place across the highway,” he told her.

“Welcome,” she managed, wishing the odd sensation would stop, wondering if he could feel it, too.

“You lived here long?” he asked.

“Born and raised,” Reed responded. “From our three times great-grandparents on down.”

Sawyer released Niki’s hand, and she glanced over to Reed in surprise. She knew the ranch had been in the Terrell family for generations, but she hadn’t realized just how long they’d lived in the Lyndon Valley.

“That’s impressive,” Sawyer told him.

“What about you?” Reed asked. “Are you from Colorado?”

“Montana originally.” Sawyer shifted his stance. “Spent a little time in the military after college. I guess I’m coming back to my roots.”

“Good roots to come back to,” said Reed as his cell phone chimed. “Excuse me.” He drew the phone from his pocket and raised it to his ear, listening for a second, a smile growing on his face. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Niki knew it had to be his wife, Katrina.

Though it didn’t seem to happen often, because each of the brothers had other homes out of the state, both Reed and Caleb were on the Lyndon Valley ranch this week.

Reed and his wife, Katrina, spent much of their time in New York City, because Katrina was a professional ballerina. Caleb’s wife, Mandy, had grown up on the neighboring Jacobs spread, but Caleb had spent years in Chicago building Active Equipment, his heavy-equipment manufacturing business. He and Mandy now spent about half their time in Chicago, half in Lyndon Valley.

“Starving,” Reed said into the phone, and he grinned at Niki.

She tried to pretend she didn’t notice Sawyer studying her. She’d attracted her fair share of male attention in D.C., particularly if she was wearing something by Delwanna, and always when she was wearing her black Magnamis heels. But she couldn’t imagine she was anywhere even approaching attractive at the moment. She hoped she didn’t have dirt smeared across her cheek or something equally gauche.

Sawyer’s black jeans were spotless, his boots polished to a shine. He wore a white, Western-cut shirt with black piping and black buttons, and his curved-brim Stetson was worn enough to look natural, but new enough to complement the outfit.

Unable to stop herself, she reached up and casually brushed the back of her hand across each cheek. A breeze rustled through the windows, bringing the scent of wild clover. A diesel engine fell silent outside, and a horse whinnied in the distance, blending with the gurgle of the nearby creek.

Reed pocketed his phone. “Katrina’s on her way with the barbecue fixin’s. My wife,” he explained to Sawyer. “Care to stick around for a burger?”

Sawyer gave an easy nod of acceptance. “Appreciate the offer.” He unbuttoned one of his shirt cuffs. “In the meantime, can I lend a hand?” He rolled up a sleeve, revealing a ropy, muscular forearm.

The man was obviously used to hard work.

“There’s plenty to do,” Reed responded. “There’s a crew unloading lumber around the back.”

Sawyer finished rolling up his other sleeve and tipped his hat back on his head. “Then I’ll get right on it.” His gaze returned to Niki. “Pleasure, ma’am.”

He exited and disappeared around the sheeted, exterior wall.

Reed moved closer to Niki. “You got pretty quiet there, Nellie. Something about that man get to you?”

“I’m shy,” she responded, telling herself Reed couldn’t read her mind. He had no way of knowing she found Sawyer unaccountably attractive.

But Reed barked out a laugh. “That’s your story?”

She shot him a mock, arched glare, intending to show him she didn’t mind being teased. “And I’m stickin’ to it.”

But even as she uttered the cavalier words, she struggled to shake off her embarrassment. She couldn’t help but worry she’d looked pathetic panting after a man like Sawyer.

Though Reed’s wife was a Colorado native, Katrina had spent most of her life in New York. She was unfailingly gorgeous and glamorous. Caleb’s wife, Mandy, was so healthy and beautiful that she looked spectacular in anything she threw on, including worn jeans and plaid shirts.

But Nellie Cooper didn’t have a lot going for her. When she’d been Niki Gerard she’d had plenty of money and time to make the most of her looks. But when you took away all the trimmings, there wasn’t a whole lot left.

Being plain Jane wasn’t much fun. But Nellie Cooper was just going to have to suck it up. Because she sure couldn’t afford to have anyone make the connection between her and Niki Gerard.

Sawyer Layton couldn’t believe he’d finally found Niki Gerard. To say she looked nothing like her photo was a colossal understatement. He doubted he could have picked her out of a police lineup.

Coming around back of the half-built house, he found a flat-bed truck loaded with lumber. He greeted a trio of men who were unloading, located a spare pair of leather gloves then joined them in their work, while his mind mulled over the latest turn of events.

Niki was calling herself Nellie now. He wasn’t surprised that she’d changed her name. But he couldn’t help wonder how she’d convinced the Terrells she was their sister.

It was a clever enough plan, hiding out at a ranch in the middle of the Colorado wilderness. Convincing a well-established family to take her to their bosom was pure genius. From the perspective of ingenuity and sheer audacity, Niki was clearly Gabriella Gerard’s daughter.

His first load was three sheets of plywood. He balanced them against one shoulder as he followed a short path to the growing stack beside the house. He then turned for another load, settling into an easy rhythm.

Like Niki, Sawyer was operating under a false identity. But he hadn’t lied about buying the neighboring ranch. And he hadn’t lied about being from Montana. He’d been born there. A technicality, because his parents, D.C. residents, happened to be vacationing on the family’s Montana ranch when his mother went into early labor. Still, over the years, he’d spent quite a few vacations at the ranch, learning how to work outdoors and picking up the rudiments of cattle ranching.

Sawyer had grown up in D.C., along with a brother, a sister and countless cousins in the Layton clan. His brother had become a lawyer, specializing in taxation, and joined the family firm. His sister was engaged to Miles Carter, a young Congressman from Delaware. Meanwhile Sawyer had graduated college with a degree in international affairs and joined the navy as an officer. He’d liked the discipline and camaraderie of the navy. He’d also appreciated the black and white codes of ethics and conduct.

Sawyer lifted another three sheets of lumber. He was starting to perspire under the late-day August sun.

Unfortunately, his extended family had missed him while he was away. They’d missed his ingenuity, his nerve and his rather eclectic skill set. Since the Laytons had always been much better at getting themselves into trouble than getting themselves out, Sawyer had given up the black and white moral code of the navy for the countless shades of D.C. gray.

He’d gone back to work as the family fixer. Over the past few years, he’d done everything from misdirecting the press, to quietly paying off gambling debts and secretly locking extended family members in high-end rehab centers. But nothing compared to the latest trouble with Gabriella Gerard. When she had died, and then Niki disappeared, Sawyer’s uncle, the senator had gone into full-blown panic mode.

Uncle Charles, along with many other power brokers in D.C., had a lot to lose if Gabriella’s infamous diary saw the light of day. If that happened, the whole world would know Charles had cheated on his wife and, albeit unknowingly, accepted illegal campaign contributions.

Everyone knew that Niki had the diary. And now Sawyer had Niki.

“My brother tells me you’re new to the neighborhood.” A tall, dark haired man fell into step beside Sawyer.

Sawyer dropped his latest load down on the growing stack. “Sawyer Smith.” He pulled off a glove to shake the man’s hand.

“Caleb Terrell.”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Sawyer complimented, gazing around at the lush meadows, rolling hills and the Lyndon River winding its way into the lake below. Befriending the Terrells was an integral part of his plan. He couldn’t let Niki or anyone else be remotely suspicious of his reasons for being here. Luckily, Sawyer had enough money to temporarily buy a cattle ranch.

“We like it,” Caleb responded, pride clear in his tone. “The main house is south along the river. But Reed’s been planning this place for years.”

As they spoke, Reed made an appearance in the front yard, joking with the men who were setting up a gas barbecue. He wrapped one arm around a petite blonde woman and gave her a kiss.

“His wife?” Sawyer asked Caleb.

“Katrina.”

“Do they have enough kids to fill up this big house?” Sawyer asked in an effort to keep Caleb engaged in conversation.

“Not yet. Katrina’s a professional ballerina, so it may be a while before they start a family.”

From his research, Sawyer knew all about Katrina. Ironically, he’d seen her perform a few times in New York City. His family had a box at the Emperor’s Theatre.

Niki appeared in the distance, joining the gathering group. She spotted a man setting up a folding table and quickly stepped up to help. Together, they drew down the legs and settled it firmly on the uneven ground. She was small and slight, only about five foot three. Sawyer also knew she was twenty-one, and she was partway through an arts degree at GW.

Niki had been drop-dead gorgeous in every picture he’d ever been shown, stunningly glamorous, one of D.C.’s own princesses. But there was no glamour about her today. Not that she could hide her pretty features. The wispy, brunette hairstyle made her look younger, delicate, a bit of a waif. The blue jeans clung softly to her sexy bottom, while the serviceable T-shirt molded to her breasts, making it anything but plain.

“I can see the way you’re looking at my sister,” Caleb remarked, in a light, yet warning tone.

“Sorry.” Sawyer quickly shook himself. His mind didn’t usually wander like that, particularly when he was investigating. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

But Caleb chuckled good-naturedly. “She’s a beautiful girl. Just remember she’s got two very protective big brothers in her life.” He left the thought unfinished.

“Noted,” Sawyer responded succinctly.

Caleb had absolutely nothing to worry about on that score. Niki might look sweet and innocent out here in the fresh air, but Sawyer knew what lurked beneath the facade. Niki was every bit as dangerous as her mother.

Both cunning and beautiful, Gabriella Gerard had used her persuasive charm and innate sensuality to get what she wanted from men who should have known better. She certainly wasn’t a call girl, but her many lovers were strongly rumored to be amongst the D.C. elite. They had showered her with gifts, money, stock tips and, most significantly, secrets.

It was rumored that Gabriella had written it all down, and very likely included her affair with Sawyer’s uncle and the illegal campaign contributions that had followed. Sawyer was here for the diary, nothing more and nothing less. Niki’s virtue was perfectly safe with him.

“I guess I should have asked if you were married,” Caleb put in.

Sawyer shook his head. “Not married. No girlfriend. Just me.”

Caleb looked genuinely sympathetic. “Too bad.”

Sawyer didn’t think so. He was perfectly content on his own. Besides, family history proved that marriage was never a good bet for a Layton. He didn’t think he’d inflict the state on any woman, let alone one that he cared about.

“Come and meet my wife,” Caleb interrupted his thoughts.

They started for the front yard, with Caleb pointing out a woman in a pair of faded blue jeans and a red, plaid shirt. Her long, chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she held a tiny infant in a blue blanket in her arms.

“Your baby?” Sawyer asked, falling into step, still making conversation about things he already knew.

“Better be,” Caleb joked.

Sawyer couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Mandy,” Caleb called as they neared, fondness clear in his tone.

The woman glanced up. She smiled, green eyes shining with obvious love as the two men approached. “Hello, darling.”

Caleb kissed her mouth, then he kissed the baby on the forehead.

“This is my wife, Mandy. Sweetheart, this is Sawyer Smith. He just bought the Raklin place.”

Mandy’s smile broadened. “Welcome to Lyndon Valley. This is Asher. Our new son.”

“Congratulations,” said Sawyer, looking down at the sleeping child. “How old is he?”

“Three months.”

The baby’s eyes were closed. His skin was almost translucent, and his little, bow mouth made gentle suckling motions in his sleep. He looked delicate and vulnerable swaddled in the flannel blanket.

It never ceased to amaze Sawyer that rational people would bring something so fragile into such an uncertain world. Didn’t they worry about what could happen? How did they sleep at night, thinking about the danger?

Not that Lyndon Valley seemed dangerous. In fact, it was a million miles away from both political strife and inner city problems. And Caleb and Mandy were probably great parents, salt of the earth.

It occurred to Sawyer that a normal man would feel guilty lying to such obviously decent people. Luckily, Sawyer’s emotions had been hardened over the years. But the thought led him to wondering if Niki was cold as ice, or if she was ashamed of her own deception.

He glanced up, seeking her out again.

She was looking directly at him, and when his gaze met hers, something arced through the atmosphere between them. It was an awareness that went beyond two strangers meeting. She quickly blinked and looked away, but not before it occurred to Sawyer that she might already have his number. Was it possible that she knew exactly who he was, and that she was playing him? Could she be that good an actress? He immediately realized he couldn’t take the chance.

“He’s a beautiful baby,” he said to Caleb and Mandy. “Can you excuse me?”

He left them, making his way toward Niki.

She’d moved away from the crowd, going downhill toward the creek and a little white footbridge that crossed it.

He continued after her.

They had to have another conversation. And he needed to pay attention to more than just her beauty this time. If she even suspected he was a Layton, she’d bolt the second his back was turned.

Niki braced her palms on the rail of the footbridge, gazing toward the crystal-blue water of Flash Lake. Tiny ripples were signaling the beginnings of an evening breeze that would keep the flies at bay.

Flash Lake was surrounded by brilliant green willows and silvery aspens. Craggy mountains jutted up behind it, creating a picture-perfect setting against the vast sky. Closer in, horses grazed in the flower-dotted meadows, their black, brown and white coats, glossy in the rays from the setting sun.

Since it was midsummer, colts and fillies frolicked through the foot-tall meadow, their high-pitched whinnies carrying up the slope. Wheatgrass and clover freshened the air, while the crystal creek gurgled six feet below her, hiding water bugs and speckled trout. Though it had only been three months, there were moments when she had to struggle to remember the sights, smells and sounds of Georgetown.

But, not today. Today, D.C. was crowding out Colorado.

Niki knew the reason. Looking into Sawyer Smith’s blue eyes, feeling what she’d felt, and wanting what she’d wanted, she’d been reminded that she was a fraud. She wasn’t Nellie Cooper. She was Niki Gerard, daughter of Gabriella Gerard, the most notorious woman in the nation’s capital.

That she shared a father with Caleb and Reed was nothing but a genetic coincidence. Her real life and her real world were far removed from their lives out here.

She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now she knew she’d been wrong to bring her problems to their doorstep. She wished she didn’t like them so much, or that Mandy and Katrina hadn’t been so kind.

If she’d found her mother’s diary, she might never have come here. If she had the diary, if she could read the entries, she’d know who to fear and how to fight back. But she’d searched every square inch of the penthouse, tracked down every safe-deposit box, checked every nook, cranny and corner. She’d even had a professional search through Gabriella’s computer and email accounts, thinking the diary might have been electronic. But, no luck.

“Nice view,” came a deep voice that sent an instant quiver up her spine. His footsteps sounded on the little bridge.

It took Niki a moment to find her own voice and respond. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed, praying Sawyer would keep right on walking.

But he didn’t. He came to a halt and copied her stance, bracing his own hands on the painted white rail, gazing out at the lake.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked pleasantly.

The aroma of grilling burgers was beginning to fill the air. Niki’s empty stomach reacted to the enticing scent. She’d learned there was nothing like fresh air and physical work to heighten an appetite.

“Getting there,” she admitted.

He was silent for a minute. “So, this is going to be Reed’s house?”

Niki nodded, her attention going back to the two-story building.

“It’s a big house for two people,” Sawyer observed.

“Reed wants four children.”

“Four?” Sawyer sounded surprised.

“I think he’d go for more if Katrina would agree.” Niki had been present for some of their good-natured arguments. She couldn’t help thinking about the way Reed looked at Katrina. He was head over heels in love, and Niki was sure he’d agree to anything she asked.

“What about you?” Sawyer asked.

The odd question surprised her. “I’m a long way from thinking about children.”

Even if it did become safe for her to go back to her real life, she didn’t think she was motherhood material. She certainly hadn’t had any kind of a role model in her own mother. Gabriella was only eighteen when she’d given birth to Niki. They’d been more like friends than mother and daughter. And while Niki’s childhood and teenage years had held more than their share of excitement, they’d also been chaotic and confusing.

“I was wondering if you might live here when the house is finished,” Sawyer clarified. “You seem to be working hard on it.”

Niki reframed her thoughts, coming back to the present, shaking her head. “That’s not in the plan.”

“You’ll stay in the main house, then?”

Niki turned slightly to take in his expression, unsure of his point. Then again, maybe she was simply paranoid and uncomfortable thinking about her future.

Why on earth did Sawyer have to show up today? She’d been perfectly happy living in this cocoon. It might not have been ideal, but at least it was safe.

“Nellie?” he prompted.

She struggled to remember the original question. But then she met his eyes, and her mind went completely blank. Another shot of desire raced through her system. He was a fantasy man come to life, all strength and purpose, silhouetted by the mountains and the smooth blue sky. She suddenly wished with all her heart that the life she had here was real.

Two

The ingenuous, puzzled expression on Niki’s face told Sawyer two things. One, she hadn’t the first clue who he was. And two, there was a reason his Uncle Charles had risked everything for an affair with Gabriella.

Niki’s eyes were large, dark fringed, beautiful, clear green beneath perfectly arched brows. Her cheeks were pink, her face heart-shaped, and her mouth was a lush bow of red that telegraphed a lethal combination of eroticism and innocence. If Gabriella had even a fraction of Niki’s enticing sensuality, Charles could be forgiven absolutely.

“Reed said you all grew up on the ranch.” Sawyer changed the topic, intent on learning as much as he could about her cover story.

“Reed and Caleb grew up here,” Niki responded, her attention going back to the view. “I’m their half sister.”

“You grew up somewhere else?”

“Boston.”

Boston, not D.C. It was only a slight alteration, and the tactic earned his respect. Deception 101—keep your story as close to the truth as possible.

While they conversed, random shouts and the squeals of children crossed from the crowd of people around the house.

“A remarriage?” Sawyer pressed.

Niki shook her head. “Just me and my mom.”

Another true statement. “Did you visit here in summers?”

“I never knew my father.”

“Interesting story?”

“Not really,” she said. “My mother passed away a few months ago. That’s when it came to light.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” On a human level, Sawyer couldn’t help but be sorry that she’d lost her mother. His own mother had died when he was in his early twenties. Though the Laytons were never the most loving or attentive of parents, he still missed her.

“Thank you,” said Niki.

They both fell silent.

“Do you wonder why she kept it secret?” he asked.

She shot him a curious look, and he realized it was time to back off.

“You must be hungry,” he said, nodding toward the barbecue.

But instead of picking up on the topic change, her voice took on a faraway tone. “I came as quite a shock to them.”

“Reed and Caleb?”

“Yes.”

Sawyer quickly readjusted. “It must happen a lot these days. Strangers showing up, claiming to be relatives. You know, what with all the new social media and technology.”

“And DNA doesn’t lie.”

“You took a DNA test?” Sawyer couldn’t quite keep the astonishment from his voice.

“Of course. How else could we be certain? And, yes, I am hungry.” She abruptly pulled back from the rail and started toward the crowd of people.

It took Sawyer a moment to recover. Niki was actually a Terrell? In addition to a dozen or so judges, politicians and captains of industry, Gabriella had slept with a rancher from Colorado.

It didn’t fit her pattern. And, unfortunately, it meant Sawyer had just lost some of his leverage. He couldn’t threaten to out Niki with Reed and Caleb if they were truly her brothers. That got him wondering if they knew who she was. Were they playing along with the ruse to protect her, or had she kept her true identity a secret from them?

If they knew the truth, then he was working against the entire Terrell clan, not just Niki. He scrambled to wrap his mind around that possibility. If they were all on alert, then a single misstep on his part would be a disaster.

He quickly caught up to her as she climbed the small rise toward the house. “You must have been excited to find them,” he probed.

When she answered, there was a tightness to her tone.

“You mean because I went from being all alone in the world to having two of the greatest brothers in existence? Yes, I was excited to find them.”

He tried to decipher her meaning. Were they great brothers because they were protecting her secret? “So, no other siblings?”

“None,” she answered briskly, skipping into a jog.

She paused by a blue-and-white cooler, flipping the lid, dipping in to pull out a soft drink.

Sawyer hung back, pausing at the edge of the crowd.

“Travis Jacobs.” Another cowboy stepped up and offered his hand.

“Sawyer Smith.” Sawyer shook, forcing himself to regroup. More than ever, he knew he had to take his time with this. Finding the diary was going to be a marathon, not a sprint.

“I hear we’re neighbors,” said Travis.

“Word gets around fast.”

“I’m Mandy and Katrina’s brother. We have the spread that borders southeast of the Terrells.”

“Mandy and Katrina are sisters?” Sawyer’s research had told him as much, but the two women certainly didn’t look anything alike.

“Jacobs, both of them.”

And both married to Niki’s brothers, which tied Travis to Niki, as well. If the Terrells and the Jacobs were anything like the Laytons, family was family, and they’d protect their own.

“Beer?” Travis asked, filling the temporary gap in conversation.

“Sure.”

Travis crossed to the nearest cooler and extracted two cans of Budweiser, returning to pass one to Sawyer.

“The Raklin place?” Travis asked.

“That’s the one.”

“Good graze in the high country. Water issues in late September, but I expect you’ve looked into that.”

Sawyer popped the top of his beer, letting his gaze focus on Niki as she spread mayonnaise on a hamburger bun then layered on slices of pickles. Katrina was beside her, laughing and chatting one moment, then talking low into her ear the next. He hadn’t expected this much of a shield around Niki. In fact, he hadn’t expected anyone to be close to her at all.

“I hear the water-license issue is going to be resolved soon,” he said to Travis.

Travis laughed. “Anybody define ‘soon’ for you?”

Sawyer couldn’t help but smile at Travis’s skepticism. Truth was, the long-term viability of the Raklin place as a working ranch was the least of Sawyer’s worries. He only expected to own it for a few months. Dylan Bennett, the ranch manager’s son from the Layton family’s Montana ranch had agreed to come out and run the spread in the short term to keep up appearances.

But as soon as Sawyer was done with Niki, his lawyers would put it back on the market. And, if the water license proved a stumbling block to selling, Sawyer could solve it with a single phone call. Charles might be the senator from Maryland, but he golfed with the senator from Colorado, and he had a whole lot of D.C. markers he could call in.

Assuming, of course, Gabriella’s diary didn’t get him kicked out of office and thrown in jail first.

“We’ve been fighting that particular war for a couple of years now,” said Travis.

“Need any help?”

Travis arched a brow.

Sawyer took a swig of his beer, realizing it had been foolish of him to offer. “I know a couple of politicians,” he explained.

“My brother was elected Mayor last year. I think he’s got the political angle covered.”

“Good enough, then.”

There was no sense in taking on somebody else’s fight. Sawyer’s attention strayed back to Niki. He obviously had enough trouble on his hands.

“Since there is no earthly reason you would buy yourself a cattle ranch in Colorado,” Dylan Bennett opened as soon as Sawyer came in through the front door of the Raklin place.

The man had parked himself in the living room of the ranch house, boots up on a worn, leather ottoman. “And since you’re calling yourself Smith—unimaginative as hell, by the way. I’m guessing somebody’s in trouble.”

“We’re the Laytons,” Sawyer responded drily, pausing to plunk his Stetson on a wall peg in the entryway and rake a hand through his short hair. “Trouble is our middle name.”

Dylan glanced around the expansive, recently updated living and dining areas of the big house. It was roomy and nicely finished, with gleaming hardwood, freshly painted walls, and a myriad of high ceilings, hewn wooden beams and panoramic windows.

“Pretty deep trouble,” he drawled. “Judging by how much this place must have set you back.”

“You always were smarter than the average cowboy,” Sawyer drawled, moving into the living room.

“You want to catch me up?” Dylan stretched back in the worn armchair.

By contrast to the house, the furnishings were grim. They consisted of the leftovers the Raklins hadn’t bothered to pack up, a worn brown sofa, a creaky armchair and a dated, arborite table with four mustard-yellow, vinyl chairs with spindly metal legs.

“You bring any beer?” Sawyer asked Dylan before sitting down.

“Stocked the fridge.” Dylan cocked his head toward the kitchen where the Raklins had left four high-end, fairly new appliances. “Didn’t make much sense to waste a trip through town.”

“Good thinking,” Sawyer approved, carrying on through the dining room to the kitchen.

He liberated a couple of bottles of Coors from the refrigerator door then made his way back to Dylan.

“It’s Charles, isn’t it?” asked Dylan as he accepted one of the icy-cold beers.

“What makes you say that?” Not that Sawyer had any intention of denying the truth to Dylan. Dylan was on their side. He’d been loyal his entire life.

As teenagers, the two men had run pretty wild together whenever Sawyer visited the Montana ranch. They stole liquor from the cook’s pantry, borrowed more than one ranch pickup truck, got into fistfights and picked up girls. Their exploits had cemented a friendship, and Sawyer would trust Dylan with his life.

Dylan looked pointedly around the ranch house. “You bought yourself ten-thousand acres of prime land. As cover stories go, it’s the very definition of overkill. I figure the only reason you’d go to this much trouble is to protect Charles’ Senate seat.”

“You nailed it,” Sawyer agreed, dropping onto the old, lumpy sofa and taking a swig of his beer. It was cool against his throat, dry from breathing in the dust of the construction site.

“You’re blending,” Dylan stated.

“In with the locals,” Sawyer confirmed. He and his uncle had concocted the plan together.

“What the hell did Charles do to warrant this level of complexity?”

Sawyer knew he shouldn’t smile. It was a serious situation. But Dylan was right, they were cleaning up a big mess with high stakes, and that situation inevitably involved Uncle Charles.

“You ever heard of Gabriella Gerard?” Sawyer asked.

“Can’t say that I have.”

“She was a D.C. legend, infamous around the town. Nobody knew where she came from, but everyone agreed she could have launched a thousand ships with one crook of her baby finger.

Word on the street is that she had affairs with some very powerful men. She accepted their gifts and their money, used their stock tips to get rich. She apparently squirreled away their secrets in a tell-all diary. And then she died. And the diary is nowhere to be found, neither is her daughter Niki.”

“I take it Charles is featured in the diary?” Dylan guessed.

“And the daughter is featured in Colorado, in Lyndon Valley to be precise, in hiding.”

“Is she Charles’ daughter?”

“No chance of that. The dates were way off.” Plus, Sawyer now knew she was Wilton Terrell’s daughter.

Dylan gave a single nod of understanding, peeling at the corner of the beer label with his thumb. “You’re here to get the diary.”

Sawyer responded with a mock toast. “Indeed, I am. Charles would prefer his wife not find out he cheated.”

“Understandable.”

“He’d also prefer the Elections Commission not know about certain campaign contributions.”

“Also understandable.” Dylan took a swig of his beer.

“And he’d prefer to be the guy who learns everyone else’s secrets, instead of the other way around. Whoever gets their hands on that diary will own the district.”

“That all sounds like the Charles we know and love.”

Sawyer silently agreed. He’d never had much time for the games played in D.C. politics, but Charles lived and breathed it. And he’d certainly done well by the family by being tapped in.

“This Niki might have plans of her own,” Dylan noted.

“I expect she does. If she’s anything like Gabriella, there’s every chance she’s planning some sophisticated blackmail scheme.”

“So, here you sit,” said Dylan. “Her brand-new, innocuous, cowboy neighbor, without a single, visible tie to D.C.”

“That’s the plan. Though we’ve hit a snag.”

“Already?” Dylan glanced pointedly at his watch. “Is that a record?”

Sawyer ignored the man’s sarcasm. “Those Terrell brothers I mentioned? Caleb and Reed. Successful men, smart from what I can see, a reasonable level of power on their own, particularly Caleb. It turns out, they really are her brothers, her half brothers, Gabriella was sleeping with more than just D.C. power brokers.”

“Do the brothers know she’s in hiding?”

“Haven’t yet figured that out,” Sawyer admitted. Though he was leaning toward them not knowing. “They didn’t seem particularly suspicious or jumpy. They were happy to welcome me, feed me a burger.”

Dylan rested one booted ankle on the opposite one. “So, what’s your next move?”

Sawyer took another mouthful of the crisp beer, letting it slide its way down his throat. “Get to know them. See if I can find a way in. Getting her to confide in me would be best.”

“Is she plain? Is she mousy?” Dylan gave him a critical once-over. “You’re a decent-looking guy, maybe you can romance the information out of her.”

“She’s a bombshell. At least, she was in D.C. She’s downplaying it out here. But I’m sure she still has plenty of offers.” It occurred to Sawyer that one of the resident Colorado cowboys might already have his eye on her. That would add yet another barrier.

“Might be your best bet,” said Dylan.

Sawyer frowned at his friend. Romancing a woman to get information from her? “That’s pretty callous, even for a guy with my genetic make-up.”

“Plus, if she’s a knockout, what chance would you have?”

Sawyer gave a snort. “I can get dates.”

“Sure, in D.C., where they know you’re a Layton. I’m talkin’ about out here, on your own, where women don’t know you’re a rich, connected guy.”

“I’m not worried.”

Not that he had any immediate interest in testing the theory with Niki or anyone else. His only goal was the diary. That would be his laser focus.

Niki knew she had to come clean with her brothers. She couldn’t fool herself any longer, pretending it was okay to keep such an important secret. Though her mother would turn over in her grave at the thought of Niki taking such an unnecessary risk. In fact, Niki could actually hear Gabriella’s voice inside her head, calling her a fool for giving up her advantage.

“Shut up,” she said out loud, briskly rubbing her freshly washed hair with a towel.

She tossed the towel on a chair in the corner of the bedroom, then ran a comb through her short hair, scrutinizing herself in the mirror above the dresser as she worked. She had to admit, this was the easiest cut she’d ever worn. A quick comb through, and it dried on its own. It was just wavy enough to have body, but stayed pretty much in place through humidity or rain showers.

She stepped into a pair of comfortable jeans, then slipped her arms into a flannel shirt. She didn’t even bother with a bra or socks. The lifestyle in Lyndon Valley was exceedingly casual.

The weather was sultry warm tonight, so she knew she’d find Caleb, Mandy, Reed and Katrina relaxing on the back deck.

If Caleb and Mandy were lucky, little Asher would be asleep, and there’d be time for an iced tea and some adult conversation. The river would rush by, and the crickets would chirp, and the scent of pine would flow down from the hillsides. On nights like this, Niki couldn’t seem to imagine going home.

As the picture bloomed in her mind, her resolve to come clean began to waver. Maybe the confession could wait. After all, it had been three months already, what was another few days or weeks?

She had a deep-down fear of being rejected by her brothers, and she hadn’t formulated a plan of what she’d do if Reed and Caleb kicked her out. Returning to D.C. and resuming her studies at GW was out of the question.

She was genuinely afraid of the men who saw her as a potential blackmailer. Not that she’d even think of blackmailing anyone. Even if she needed the money, she’d never commit a crime. And she would have happily told them all that—if she’d had any earthly idea of who they were. She remembered a few first names, but otherwise her mother had kept her romantic entanglements to herself and never shared the details with Niki. Perhaps her mom had been trying to protect her even then?

Yes, Niki was safest if she kept silent. But on the other hand, she shouldn’t take the easy way out. Reed and Caleb had been so kind and so generous, they deserved to know exactly who they were helping.

She squared her shoulders in determination, leaving the bedroom and making her way to the staircase that led to the main floor. She tried to imagine how the conversation would go. Reed was a big, imposing man, but he was unfailingly fair and gentle. Certainly he’d been sympathetic to Niki so far, and she’d never once seen him raise his voice at Katrina or anyone else. Caleb was thoughtful, smart and doggedly determined. He worked hard and expected the same of the people around him.

Both of her brothers had high standards for themselves and everyone else. And she was fairly certain her behavior wouldn’t have met those high standards. Would they merely be disappointed? Would they understand on any level? Would they be angry?

She shuddered at the thought of making either of them angry. Nor did she want to disappoint them, either. But their understanding might be too much to hope for under the circumstances.

Maybe if she’d been honest with them from the start. But back then they’d been strangers to her. And she hadn’t dared share her secret with anyone in the world.

Now, as she cut the corner on the living room, she tried desperately to muster her courage. But as she pulled open the glass door to the deck, a heavy weight settled over her chest. Her heart struggled through deep beats, and her palms turned moist.

It was almost anticlimactic to find Katrina alone outside. She was lounging in one of the comfortable, padded chairs that overlooked a few lighted staff cabins near the river. The hills were black, and a million stars were scattered in the sky.

“Where is everybody?” Niki asked, half relieved, half distressed at having to wait even longer to bare her soul.

“In the barn. Lame horse. The vet’s out there.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s not serious,” said Katrina. “Just interesting.” She paused. “For them.”

Despite herself, Niki couldn’t help but smile at Katrina’s grimace. It was no secret that while the rest of the Terrell and Jacobs families were horse crazy, Katrina was afraid of the animals.

Katrina pointed to a bottle of merlot on the table in front of her. “Join me? I’m on Asher duty.” She glanced up at an open, second-floor window.

“Sure.” Alcohol sounded like a good idea. Maybe putting off the confession wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was every chance it would be easier after a glass of wine.

Katrina rose, selecting a second glass from the table and pouring the deep, red liquid.

Then she turned and paused on Niki’s expression. “Everything okay?”

Niki’s stomach tightened. “It’s fine. Why?”

Katrina handed her the glass. “For a second there, you reminded me of Reed.”

“You think I look like Reed?” Niki sure hoped not. While Reed was a ruggedly handsome man, he was all male, totally masculine.

“Every once in a while, I can see it around the eyes, and the way you purse your lips. He does that when he’s worried.” Katrina considered her for a long moment. “It reminds me that he inherited some things from his father.”

“I really don’t see a resemblance between us,” Niki responded honestly.

She’d searched each of her brothers’ features on more than one occasion, and she’d never been able to identify any similarities.

Katrina eased back down into her chair, gesturing for Niki to take the seat next to her. “It’s more an expression than a specific feature. But don’t tell Reed he looks anything like his father.” She tossed back her hair and took a sip of her wine.

Niki followed suit, letting the warmth of the alcohol flow through her stomach and send an almost instant shot of relaxation into her veins.

“I doubt I’d get the chance,” said Niki. “They never say much about Wilton.”

She hadn’t wanted to pry, and aside from pointing their father out in a couple of pictures, and having initially expressed their complete and utter disbelief that he might have cheated on their mother, both Reed and Caleb had kept their thoughts to themselves.

“They never will,” Katrina said softly, her eyes clouding.

“I take it you know why?”

“I do. It’s complicated. They had a very strained relationship.”

Niki was sorry, if not completely surprised to hear it. There was obvious tension whenever Wilton was mentioned.

“Does it hurt them to have me here?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“What?” Katrina seemed surprised by the question. “No. Of course not. This is your home.”

Niki gave a sad smile at the irony. “It’s not my home. I’m little more than a stranger to you all.”

“No more a stranger than I am,” said Katrina.

“You were born here,” Niki returned. “Your sisters and brothers are here.”

“So are yours.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

The idea that Katrina could ever be considered a stranger to the Jacobs and Terrell families was preposterous. Even if she had spent many years at boarding school in New York City, Katrina had been the youngest Jacobs daughter her entire life. Everybody knew her. Everybody loved her.

“I spend most of my life away from here,” said Katrina, continuing to sip her way through the glass of wine.

Niki was grateful, but she wasn’t buying it. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. Well, maybe a little bit. It’s obvious something’s wrong. Are you feeling bad because you don’t know much about Wilton?”

“I don’t need to know much.” Niki downplayed her curiosity. She desperately wished she knew more about her father, good or bad.

“The negativity and complexity have nothing to do with you.”

“Whatever it is, I can handle it.” The assertion was out of Niki’s mouth before she realized it put Katrina in an awkward position.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly added. “I didn’t mean—”

“He was a cold, brutal man,” Katrina told her. Her expression somber.

Brutal? “He beat them?”

“By today’s standards, absolutely. But mostly, he was just plain nasty. He worked them into the ground, no empathy, no sympathy. Because of his temper, their mother died of pneumonia.”

Niki had learned earlier that Sasha had died when Reed and Caleb were seventeen.

“The poor woman was so utterly afraid of Wilton, that she never told anyone how sick she was feeling.”

Niki swallowed.

“Reed and Caleb both blamed Wilton for her death. To this day, they say he killed her. Back then, Caleb walked out, while Reed stayed to fight.”

“I had no idea,” Niki whispered, feeling a little numb.

Katrina topped up their glasses. “Of course you didn’t.”

Niki gazed at the dark liquid. She couldn’t help thinking about her own mother, Gabriella’s rather calculating, manipulative character. “Nice genetics I’ve got going here.”

Katrina tossed her blond hair. “The genetics haven’t done Reed any harm, nor Caleb, nor you.”

Niki fought against the urge to confess who she was and what she was doing here. She might not beat anyone, but she certainly wasn’t a very good person.

“My opinion,” said Katrina. “Wilton was a phenomenon. All that bad blood running through his system, but he produced terrific kids. And you’re part of the living proof.”

“I wish I was,” said Niki, her stomach cramping with guilt.

Katrina touched her hand. “You’re looking like Reed again.”

Niki struggled to smooth out her features, but the compassion in Katrina’s eyes was more than she could bear. She had to tell her. She opened her mouth to speak.

“I’m going to make it better,” Katrina vowed, carrying on before Niki had a chance to explain. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I was planning to go through the attic soon, to pick out some of Reed’s things for the new house. You can help me. Who knows what we’ll find out about your heritage up there.”

Niki closed her mouth. It was tempting, so incredibly tempting to learn more about her biological family. But to do that, she’d have to postpone her confession. And that meant Gabriella won again—always a dangerous thing.

Niki gave her better principles one final effort. “I don’t want to invade Reed and Caleb’s privacy. If they’d rather I didn’t—”

“That’s not going to be a problem.” Katrina waved a dismissive hand.

“They don’t seem to want me to know,” Niki added.

“They don’t want to talk about it,” said Katrina. “That doesn’t mean they don’t want you to know. Trust me on this.”

“Trust you on what?” came Reed’s voice as he opened the sliding door.

“Girl talk,” Katrina responded easily. “Niki’s going to help me in the attic.”

“Yeah?” asked Reed. “You got an extra glass with that bottle of wine?”

“Absolutely,” said Katrina with a broad, rather satisfied smile, gesturing to one of the tables. Then she gave a conspiratorial wink in Niki’s direction.

Reed hadn’t said no, Niki told herself. He’d barely reacted at all. Basically, he’d given her permission to snoop in his attic.

She took another sip of her wine, knowing she couldn’t bring herself to turn down the opportunity. The truth would have to wait a couple more days. What could it hurt?

Three

Sawyer’s Uncle Charles was chomping at the bit. A four-term senator, he’d had people snapping to attention for so many years, he’d long since lost any ability to summon patience.

In the ranch yard, Sawyer’s tone was laced with disgust as he said as much to Dylan. “He doesn’t see why I can’t march across the highway, slam Niki up against a wall and demand she hand over the diary.”

The mere thought of anyone putting a hand on Niki or any woman in anger, infuriated Sawyer.

“Subtlety was never his strong suit,” Dylan responded, tightening the cinch on a bay gelding. The two men were outside the main barn, where Dylan was gearing up for a ride to survey the upper pastures. “But I do agree with the part where you march across the highway. You’re not going to learn anything hangin’ around here with me.”

“I was over there just yesterday. I’m trying to play it cool.”

“There are a million excuses you can use to go back.”

“Like what? Borrow a cup of sugar?”

Dylan grinned. “Sometimes, I don’t get why people pay you to investigate for them.”

He freed the reins from the saddle horn. “Tell the Terrells you have a horse with a hot hock. Borrow some antibiotics until you can get into the vet’s office. Or ask for the name of their vet. Or, hey, if you want to actually be useful, then find out where they hire their hands. Maybe they know of somebody who could be an assistant manager, help me out here.” He mounted his horse.

Sawyer had to admit, those were all good suggestions.

“Or,” Dylan finished, reining the gelding in a circle. “Pretend you like the woman. A lovesick calf would be expected to turn up all the time, on the flimsiest of excuses.”

“I’m not going to do that,” said Sawyer.

Niki might be a conniving little liar, but that didn’t give Sawyer the right to behave like a jerk.

Dylan shrugged. “Good luck, then.” He pressed his heels against the animal’s flanks.

“Thanks.” Sawyer stepped back, out of the path of the horse’s dust.

Admitting he’d much rather spend his time trying to learn more about Niki than explaining himself to Uncle Charles or anyone else in D.C., Sawyer took part of Dylan’s advice. He fired up a pickup truck and bumped his way down the ranch road, across the highway and up the winding stretch of the Terrells’ driveway.

He debated whether to take the turnoff to the main house or carry on to Reed’s new house, since it seemed likely Niki might be working there again.

Niki Gerard as a construction worker. Sawyer had to admit, he’d have bet money against that ever happening. She was obviously taking her charade very seriously, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was learning anything about life in the process. Well, besides how to work a power drill.

He checked with a hand in the ranch yard and was told the family was at the river.

Hoping Niki was included in the family group, he strode his way down a tree-lined trail behind the main house, hearing the sounds of talking and laughter before he saw anyone. He emerged from the woods to a picturesque meadow and a wide, relatively calm bay jutting out from the river. There was a gazebo in front of the sandy beach, which was strewn with lawn chairs and towels.

Caleb and Mandy, Reed and Katrina, and a number of people he didn’t recognize were swimming and sunning themselves. Caleb was holding his baby son, but Sawyer’s gaze immediately caught on Niki who was walking from the river’s edge across the sandy beach.

Her dark hair was slicked back. Her skin glistened wet in the sunshine. Her blue bikini showed off toned, tanned legs, a flat stomach and smooth shoulders. The wet fabric clung to her pert breasts and to the curve of her hips. His feet slowed to a halt, and he simply couldn’t drag his gaze away from the sexy picture.

She bent over a chair, scooping up a diaphanous scrap of nothing, wrapping it around her body. He knew it was supposed to cover her up, but the breeze pushed the sheer fabric against her body, and it just made her look sexier.

Her gaze caught his, and she seemed to startle.

He forced himself to resume walking. “Hello,” he called to Caleb who was closest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in.”

“No problem,” Caleb responded, shifting Asher in his arms. “Getting settled?”

Sawyer was aware of Niki moving in his peripheral vision, but he forced himself to keep his attention fixed on Caleb. “Slowly but surely,” he responded. “My ranch manager arrived last night. This is a gorgeous spot you have here.”

“One of our favorites. Mandy and I have to go back to Chicago in the morning, and she didn’t want to waste the day.”

“I don’t blame her.” Sawyer meant it.

“Join us for a dip,” Caleb invited.

Sawyer glanced down at his blue jeans and boots. “I’m not really …” Then he decided, to hell with it. He wasn’t shy about his black boxers. And this was exactly the kind of excuse he needed to hang around. “Sure,” he amended. “Why not?”

Caleb grinned. “That’s the spirit. We’re about to start a game of water polo. There’s a stack of towels in the gazebo.”

By the time Sawyer had stripped off his outer clothes and made his way to the bay, there were at least a dozen people positioning themselves in the water for the game. It turned out to be a modified version of regular water polo, with a volley ball and two floating nets. His navy background gave him an edge, but Caleb, who was on Sawyer’s team, and Reed, on the opposite team, were both strong players. Reed, in particular, could effortlessly lob the ball from one end of the makeshift court to the other.

Niki was on the opposite team, and she turned out to be a surprisingly strong swimmer. So, when she and Sawyer both went after a long pass, he had to kick it up a notch to stay ahead. He beat her by a couple of feet, just before the ball would have been grabbed by the current out in the main channel of the river. He snagged it and quickly tossed it back to his teammate Mandy, who put it into play to the cheers and shouts of both teams.

He’d just launched himself to swim back, when Niki gasped.

He twisted his head to look back.

“Oh, no,” she cried as the current grabbed her.

She stroked hard against it, legs kicking beneath the surface. Her eyes went wide as the current won and began to tow her away.

Sawyer lunged for her, swimming fast and hard, until he could grab her by the arm.

“My leg’s cramping,” she gasped. The water was much colder now that they were out of the bay.

Sawyer wrapped an arm around her waist, flipping her into a rescue position. “Relax,” he instructed. “I’ve got you. I’m going to take us into shore.”

To her credit, she didn’t panic.

He glanced at the crowd in the water polo game. Reed had seen her flounder, and was beginning to make his way over to help.

“It’s good,” Sawyer shouted to him. “I’ve got her.” He gave Reed a thumbs up, just as the current dragged the two of them around a bend. The water-polo game disappeared from sight.

Going with the current, he managed to angle himself and Niki toward the bay. “You okay?” he asked her.

She was gritting her teeth. “My left calf is seized up.”

“That’s the cold water. Just give me a minute here.”

He glanced around to gauge their situation. The white water told him where there were rocks beneath the surface, but he could see a safe route he could use to get them to shore.

“Sure,” she hissed between her clenched teeth. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for not making this any harder.”

“Thank you for rescuing me.”

“My pleasure.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it was exactly what you had in mind for your day today.”

They were getting close to shore now, in a place where the current was weaker. “I trained for this in the navy,” he told her. “It’s probably good to keep my skills sharp.”

As he spoke, he became aware of how her body was cradled against his, the slick, smooth skin of her midriff, her rear end rubbing against his body, and her pert breasts bobbing above the water. It had sure never been like this in the navy.

His feet touched the rocky bottom, but he kept her in his arms, turning her sideways to more easily hold her.

“It’s warmer here,” she noted, voice still strained.

“Shallower, and less current flowing through. The sun warms the water. How’s your leg?”

“Pretty sore.”

He ran his fingertips along the back of her left calf, easily finding the bunched muscle. “Here?”

“Ouch. Yes.”

He rubbed the area experimentally with the pad of his thumb, zeroing in on the knot. She moaned, arms tightening around his neck.

“Helping?” he asked.

“Yes,” she hissed, pressing her face into his wet shoulder.

He massaged slightly harder, and she clung tighter.

“Stretch your toes up,” he instructed. “Arch your foot.”

She did as he asked, and he kept up the circular motion. He could feel her muscle begin to soften under his fingers, and she relaxed against his chest.

He knew he could stop anytime. He’d probably given her as much relief as he could for the moment. But he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to hold her against his body a little longer, or maybe a lot longer, maybe forever.

He stole a glance at her face.

She was gazing up at him, those huge green eyes soft in the dappled sunlight. Her lips were dark and full, rosy cheeks damp with water droplets. She had the thickest lashes he’d ever seen. He couldn’t believe a woman could possibly be this beautiful. She was like a spell, holding him enthralled.

The warm wind whispered against them, wafting the scents of pine and clover. The aspen leaves rustled above. The sound of the others’ voices blending away in the distance. Her skin grew warm against his own, and the noise of the water lapping around them seemed softer.

He wanted to kiss her. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything so badly in his life. It was stupid and wrong and colossally risky. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He bent his head.

She didn’t shy away. In fact, she stretched to meet him. Their cool lips touched, flaring instantly to heat. His lips parted. Hers followed in turn. She was sweet as fresh honey, soft as dew.

His arms tightened around her, and he felt her body arch against him. He was instantly aroused, desperate to possess her. His tongue delved deep. Hers answered, and she moaned against his mouth, her hands tangling in his wet hair.

They were wearing practically nothing. It would be so quick, so easy, so intensely satisfying to strip off their suits and become one.

But faraway shouts penetrated his hearing, and he ruthlessly reminded himself where he was, who she was and what was at stake.

With a superhuman effort, he ended their kiss. Fixing his focus on the far shore, he dragged gulps of oxygen into his lungs.

“I’m sorry.” He glanced down.

Her sexy vulnerability was almost his undoing.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he told her sincerely.

She was silent for a long moment. “It’s complicated,” she finally whispered.

“It’s simple,” he returned, struggling to keep it light. “Fear and pain produce intense emotional reactions. Sometimes our bodies don’t know what to do with those emotions.”

“You think that’s what just happened?”

“I know that’s what just happened.” Not that it had ever happened to him before. Not like this, anyway. Her kiss had all but blown his mind.

She quirked a little half smile. “So, you’re not really a good kisser.”

“No better than average.” He found his gaze dropping to her mouth, and he recognized just how desperately he wanted to do it again.

“That was average?”

Steeling himself against temptation, it took him a second to answer. “Yeah. That was average.”

Her eyes took on a mischievous sparkle. “Then you must have a pretty fabulous sex life, Sawyer Smith.”

His gut clenched. “Do you always play with fire, Nellie Cooper?”

“I never play with fire.” She paused. Her expression going thoughtful. “I’ve never met fire before.”

Every muscle in Sawyer’s body was instantly taut. She was beyond good. When it came to seduction, this woman could write the book. Or maybe she’d read the book. Her mother’s book.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being manipulated. But he also couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t know who he was, or she’d already have run for the hills.

Then again, maybe she did this to all men. Maybe it was as natural for her as breathing.

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