About the Author

DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country with no fast-food drive-throughs or nearby neighbors, so one might think as a kid she’d be dazzled by the bright lights of the city, the allure of the unfamiliar. not so. She loved westerns in movies and books, and her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. it was in houston, texas, where she first started writing for Mills & Boon, and now, more than fifty books later, she has her own ranch…of sorts. instead of horses, she has four dogs, five cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle keeping her on her toes on a few acres in gorgeous rural utah. And of course, the deer and elk are always welcome.

No One Needs
to Know
Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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1

FROM HER PERCH ON THE PORCH railing at the Sundance ranch, Annie Sheridan took what she called a memory shot. If she’d had her beloved old Nikon she’d have pulled it out and centered the lens on the familiar faces of her hosts, but the spectacular sunset against the Rocky Mountains would have been the star. Only to the casual observer, though, which Annie most definitely was not.

She’d become an expert at the art of watching from a distance. It didn’t even bother her that much, not anymore. Two years into exile, she’d grown used to being the strange woman who ran the Safe Haven large-animal sanctuary, the one who never came to parties unless there was something her shelter needed—a favor, a donation, an adoptive home. Of course everyone in Blackfoot Falls knew who she was, and it would have stunned her if the residents of the small town hadn’t made up at least a dozen stories to explain her hermit ways.

No one, she was sure, would ever come close to the truth.

She sipped from her glass of white zinfandel, a rare treat along with the scrumptious steak and baked potato she’d had earlier. The last time she’d eaten at a party was…in another life.

That sobering thought had her off the railing and heading toward Barbara McAllister and the cluster of family that surrounded the Sundance matriarch. If Annie let herself yearn for anything these days—outside of more money for Safe Haven—it was the friendship of this clan. The three brothers—Cole, Jesse and Trace—were always willing to lend a hand during an emergency. Jesse had saved many a poor animal’s life, or given a horse or a llama or a potbellied pig a new home with his rescue airlifts.

Then there was Rachel and her boyfriend, Matt, so giddily in love. In the past six months two of the three McAllister brothers had hooked up. And now with Rachel taken, that only left Trace on the loose. Something the Sundance dude ranch guests, all of them single women in their twenties or early thirties, were trying to remedy.

Rachel had made several attempts at befriending her, though Annie had kept her distance. But boundary lines that had once been set in stone were becoming more flexible.

“Are you getting ready to leave?”

Annie smiled at Jesse’s girlfriend. The whole reason Annie was socializing at all was due to unassuming, crazy-generous Shea. Taking a break from her high-security job as a computer programmer, she’d come to Montana over the Christmas holidays to help at Safe Haven. But she’d come back to Blackfoot Falls because of Jesse. That she’d turned out to be the sanctuary’s most influential volunteer and backer was a miracle.

Annie sighed with real regret as she nodded. “I have chores.”

“Need help?”

“Not from you, although thanks for offering. You stay right here and enjoy yourself with that man of yours.”

Shea blushed as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her dark gray trousers. “I’m glad you stayed so long. Jesse said you’ve never had dinner here before.”

“You know how things are. Always something to do, what with every female animal at the shelter pregnant.”

Shea laughed. “Not every one.”

Annie set her glass on a big tray, knowing no one would mind that she didn’t stay to clean up. “It’s been a nice party.”

“It has,” Shea said, with more than a little surprise in her voice. “I usually hate parties. Never know what to say. But with the McAllisters it’s different.” She leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice. “Yesterday, I talked to Sadie from the Watering Hole for almost half an hour.”

“Whoa, look at you, Shea. You haven’t even lived here a full month yet and you’re already one of the in crowd.”

“Jesse tries to include me in things because he knows I’m oblivious,” she said in that matter-of-fact tone that still made Annie smile. “Not with gossip, though. He doesn’t do that.”

Perhaps because he’d heard his name, the man in question sidled up to Shea and snuck his arm across her shoulders, but kept his gaze on Annie.

“I’m flying out to Missoula on Tuesday,” Jesse said, “so you might want to put together a shopping list.”

She perked up because it was about a hundred miles to Missoula, and she could get things there that weren’t available in a small town like Blackfoot Falls or even the bigger Kalispell. Northwestern Montana was gorgeous, but it was mostly land and lakes and mountains. “I’ll get on that tomorrow.”

“With all that loot you two have been raking in,” Jesse said, “it’ll be hard to decide what to buy first.”

Annie smiled at his teasing. He was the only other person who knew how much of the influx of money had come either directly from Shea or from donations she’d wrangled. Annie pulled her keys out of her pocket. “Trust me, most of it is spent and we had no trouble doing it. Unbelievable how many things need replacing or fixing at that sorry shelter.”

“Your cabin, for instance?” Shea said.

“My cabin is fine, thanks.” Annie addressed Jesse again, wanting to change the subject quickly. “I’ll send a list home with Shea.” She looked at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Of course.”

Annie fiddled with her keys as she backed up in the direction of her truck. “Great. See you then.” She said quick goodbyes to most of the McAllisters along with many thanks, but before they could even try to convince her to stick around for dessert she climbed into her old green pickup.

No matter what she did or how long she left the windows open, the cab always smelled like horses. She didn’t mind. Horses had been a comfort to her all her life, and even though they were an amazing amount of work, especially this time of year, she couldn’t have wished for better company.

Horses didn’t care that she was on the run, that she’d messed up her life beyond repair. They loved her, anyway.

It didn’t take long to reach Safe Haven, and the first thing she did was check on the animals in the stable. She had an abandoned stallion that was starting to pick up some weight and get a little shine to his coat, and she added some grain to his feed trough. She spent longer checking on the mares, both of them with full teats but only in the prep stage of foaling, so there was time.

An hour later, she was finished with the barn chores and walked the couple hundred feet to the cabin everyone was so obsessed with. Inside, the overhead light sputtered to life, giving her a shadowed view of her home.

No, it wasn’t much, but it served its purpose. She could run her computer, plus she had a coffeemaker, a microwave, a toaster oven and a minifridge. Hell, she’d lived for years with less at the Columbia University dorms. The tiny claustrophobic bathroom wasn’t a big deal anymore, though she missed having a tub. But the shower got reasonably hot, and she’d replaced the cracked mirror. And the toilet…well, that could use replacing, too. But not until the emergency supplies were stocked and the tractor had a new engine.

Once upstairs in her loft, she turned on the lamp by her bed, and only then realized she should have changed out of her good jeans and one nice shirt before she’d done chores. No use worrying about that now, though. It was late for her, and the alarm would go off before first light, so she pulled on her nightshirt, and by nine-thirty she was under the covers reading a paperback thriller.

A chapter in, her eyelids started sinking. Thankfully, sleep wasn’t hard to come by anymore. The key was to keep herself in a constant state of exhaustion. She’d become an expert at that, too.

FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AN HOUR, Tucker Brennan found himself more focused on the view of the stables outside his window than the business at hand. There were several wranglers busy with chores, just like on the rest of his ranch. He would have preferred being out there building up a sweat instead of sitting in his office, filling his day with the business of running the Rocking B.

His Monday morning had gotten off to a rough start. He’d slept through his alarm, then spilled coffee on his lap during breakfast. Maybe he should have gone out last night. There were a number of women he could’ve called who wouldn’t have minded a last-minute invitation. But it was never that easy, was it?

“There’s a fundraiser for City of Hope next month.”

Tucker turned his chair so he faced his personal assistant, who was seconds into an eye roll. Darren smoothed over the near-gaff by clearing his throat. Tucker didn’t let his own frustration show, knowing full well this probably wasn’t the first time Darren had brought up this particular agenda item. Or the second.

“It’s at the McDermott?”

“Yes. Black tie,” Darren said. “The Dallas Symphony Orchestra will be performing before the gala.”

Tucker clicked over to his May calendar where Darren had already highlighted the date. He had three other formal events in May and the thought of another one didn’t appeal. “Send them a check, please. Personal.”

“Match last year’s?”

It had been sizable. “Yes.”

They continued to go down the list of requests, which seemed to grow exponentially year by year. While Darren did most of the correspondence concerning the ranch operations, Tucker liked to write personal messages where it counted. Like the one to an old warhorse of a rancher from Idaho who was about to retire. With no heir, he was going to auction off sixty thousand acres, along with his cattle and horses and all his equipment, and Tucker meant to purchase a great deal of the stock.

He barely acknowledged Darren leaving the office and set to work composing a letter to the rancher, handwritten, just like the old days, because Cotton and his late wife, Lula, had sent out Christmas letters every year until she’d passed away in 2009.

Just as Tucker started the second paragraph, a notification popped up on his computer. He went to delete the intrusion with one quick click, but the words stopped him.

He saved his screen and switched to Google, where he’d set up dozens of alerts a year ago, having no faith whatsoever that he’d ever hit pay dirt. He’d gotten hundreds of hits because there wasn’t anything all that unique about the chosen keywords, but he never skipped a one. This particular alert was for the name Ann, even though the object of his search had been born Leanna Warner. The other keywords were horses and fundraising.

Tucker wasn’t even sure why he’d bothered, because that was too close to Leanna’s true history. But he’d been thorough and he never let himself get his hopes up. He clicked on the link.

A blonde woman sat in the corner of a photograph. She wasn’t looking at the camera, but to her left. Saving the photo, he brought up the Warner file he kept under a separate password. He’d gathered everything he could about the woman a year ago, right after his brother, Christian, had given up his tough-guy act and confessed that he’d been hoodwinked… . By a slick fundraiser who was tall and slender and had a face that made men do foolish things.

Leanna was a card-carrying member of the Association of Fundraising Professionals with an office in Park Slope. She’d started out with a big firm, eventually opening her own office.

She and Christian had done quite well building up a sizable fund to benefit a number of charities. Only, none of the dividends reached the account. Instead, the investment profits had disappeared. Vanished. So had Leanna Warner, but only after the New York district attorney’s office, acting on a complaint, had gone after Christian.

While there was a lot of circumstantial evidence putting the money in Christian’s hands, there was no proof, no paper trail. Not that the D.A.’s office had stopped looking. They had made it clear Christian would remain a person of interest until they found Leanna and took her testimony. In the two years since the embezzlement, including the year Tucker had been conducting his own investigation, there hadn’t been a single clue as to her whereabouts.

Tucker still wasn’t sure there was one now. The pictures he had of Leanna showed an elegant, sophisticated New Yorker. she’d been one of the Manhattan hungry, seeking her fortune and status among the elite. If her plan had been to cut and run, she’d done herself a disservice. With her looks and the confidence she displayed on the two videos he’d found of her, she could have gone far.

Greed had a way of making fools of even the most promising.

Trouble was, he couldn’t be sure that the woman, identified simply as Annie, was Leanna Warner. If she’d only turned a little more toward the camera…Besides, this woman looked as if she’d been born in Western gear.

He ran one of the old videos and froze it when he had a decent view of her profile. He pulled up the two images so they were side by side on his monitor. For a long time, he just flicked his gaze from one to the other, and dammit, there were similarities. The odds were not high that he’d found the missing Warner, but it would drive him crazy not to know for sure. More importantly, he owed this to Christian.

Tucker didn’t have to look up the number for George Morgan, a family friend who also happened to be a private investigator in New York. He’d been on the case from the moment Christian had told Tucker about Leanna Warner, and while George had found out about her past, he’d had no luck finding the woman herself.

“Tucker. It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Tucker said, leaning back in his chair, staring at the new picture as if her position would change if he looked hard enough. “I’m calling about Leanna Warner.”

George took a second. “Did something happen?”

“Maybe. I might have uncovered a picture, although I wouldn’t count on it. If it is her, she’s living in a flyspeck town in northern Montana, working at an animal sanctuary.”

“You want me to go check things out.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’d like that, yes.”

“I’m slammed at the moment but I can go in a couple of weeks.” Met with silence, George added, “Or I can recommend a couple of other investigators if you’d like.”

That changed things. Tucker hadn’t realized how invested he was in finding Warner until this photo had cropped up. Locating her might not solve all the issues he had with his brother, certainly wouldn’t fix things between Christian and their mother, but it would be a significant start. “Maybe I’ll fly out there myself. It’s probably a fool’s errand, but if it is her, I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t run again.”

“You know, there’s no guarantee that bringing her to the district attorney will be enough to clear Christian’s name.”

“I know.” Tucker stared out the window, trying to organize his thoughts. “I won’t be hasty. I’ll take a look around. See if I can dig up something tying her to the money.”

“I don’t know…. Sure it can’t wait two weeks?”

He smiled. “I won’t do anything risky. In fact, I have the perfect cover. My foundation funds sanctuaries and shelters.”

“Or you can have a look, confirm it’s her and, while you wait for me, take some time to go fishing. Montana has some great streams and lakes.”

Tucker laughed.

George did, too. “I know. What was I thinking? You’re so much like your old man. He never took time off, either.”

“Listen, do me a favor. When you can, dust off those Warner files, huh? It’s been a while. Let’s see if we missed a connection somewhere along the way.”

“That I can do fairly quickly.”

After they hung up, Tucker looked at his April calendar.

It was jammed, of course. The Rocking B ranch, started on a shoestring by his adoptive grandfather, built into an empire by his late step-father, was over 500,000 acres. They raised cattle, horses and crops, and there were twelve working oil wells on 160,000 acres of backcountry land. Although he had managers to handle the day-to-day business, the buck stopped with Tucker.

It wasn’t easy for him to make the trip himself, but he’d manage. If he rearranged his schedule, he could go the following Monday. That time frame would give him a chance to refresh himself on Leanna’s history and find out what he could about Safe Haven and the town of Blackfoot Falls.

He called Darren in, and they began the work of shuffling appointments. There wouldn’t be any problem, except for one—he dedicated Tuesday nights to dinner with his mother. If he flew out Monday, he doubted he’d be back in time.

Irene lived on the ranch in a private suite of rooms, but they didn’t cross paths that often. She had her own social circle that kept her reasonably busy, but she was still grieving for her husband, who’d died eighteen months ago.

Tucker spent his weekends in Dallas proper taking care of social obligations, and worked the rest of the week at the ranch. She probably wouldn’t say much, but of all the things Irene did, she most looked forward to their weekly dinner. He hated disappointing her, but it couldn’t be helped.

While Darren went through item after item, Tucker kept staring at the pictures he’d pulled back up on his computer. He might want to blame his younger brother for being so gullible, but that didn’t mean Tucker wouldn’t help him clear his name. There was more at stake here. Christian had gotten the short straw when they’d been children, and while Tucker’s own guilt was great, it was nothing compared to their mother’s.

He couldn’t afford to wait for George. Tucker needed to see this “Annie” for himself. And if she was the woman who’d left Christian holding the bag for her crimes, delivering her to justice might help bring his erstwhile family together again.

AS ANNIE SIPPED HER COFFEE, she checked the big blackboard above her desk. On it were the days of the week, the scheduled volunteers, appointments, deadlines…basically her life in chalk.

Mondays were always fun, at least in the early afternoon when Melanie Knowles brought a group of high school students to volunteer. Melanie had convinced the principal and the school board to give the students academic credits for their participation. Each time a group arrived in the small yellow bus, they had an hour of instruction—everything from animal husbandry to money management—before being assigned tasks.

Melanie and the students had even started a major project on their own that would benefit the shelter for years to come.

Thank goodness, because Safe Haven wasn’t in nearly good enough financial shape to handle anything outside the basics of feeding and caring for the animals. But at least they’d made significant headway by turning the operation into a not-for-profit organization that was finally eligible for grant money and more substantial donations. All thanks to Shea. She’d helped Annie with the paperwork, but her participation meant much more. Shea was the name and face of Safe Haven.

Just remembering the days before Annie had asked Shea to serve as Safe Haven’s chairman of the board made Annie tense. the future of the sanctuary had been at stake. Annie couldn’t use her real name on any government document. Since she was an unpaid volunteer, she wasn’t noted at all.

The rest of the board positions had been filled with longtime residents of Blackfoot Falls, and they were one hell of an ornery bunch. Their first meeting would be next week, and wasn’t that going to be a corker. Annie would be there to run things—Shea had made her promise—but with an official and legal board of directors, Safe Haven would continue even if Annie had to disappear in a hurry.

That thought sent her mood plummeting. Better get busy before she had too much time to brood.

It wasn’t light out yet, but she’d have to start the first round of feeding shortly, so she booted up her computer and checked her email. She didn’t get much. A few volunteers liked to keep in touch between visits, some ebills had to be slotted for payment. Shea had sent pictures of yesterday’s party that she’d posted on the Sundance website.

The fourth one nearly stopped her heart.

It was a picture of her. For anyone to see. Including the New York district attorney.

2

TUCKER WAS ALREADY IN THE sunroom, waiting for his mother to join him for lunch. He never minded spending time with her, but he wished he could do something more to lift her spirits.

Finding Leanna Warner would help. Irene wanted so badly to bring Christian back into her life that Tucker would do just about anything he could to make that happen. Proving Christian’s innocence was no guarantee that he’d see past the pain of being abandoned as a child and give his mother and Tucker another chance. But it was Tucker’s best shot.

Tucker had gone through his own pain and doubt during his parents’ bitter divorce, but he’d been the lucky one. He’d ended up with his mother, a man he admired as his new father and a legacy of wealth and privilege to live up to. Christian had been the bargaining chip for Rory Andrews to grant Irene her divorce. She’d never dreamed that Rory would vanish, would subject Christian to a nomadic life following the horse-racing circuit and running from debts.

That Christian had gone to college and received his master’s in finance was a testament to hard work and determination, because there’d been no support from his dad. Now, to have this cloud of suspicion over his reputation was another kick in the teeth Christian didn’t deserve.

Every time Tucker thought of the grief Leanna Warner had brought down on his family it angered him further, but he’d never been one to act rashly. By the time he turned that woman in, he’d make damn sure his brother would be exonerated completely.

Irene entered the room with her head high, and a smile on her face. It was all for show, but sometimes he thought the facade was the only thing keeping her going. That and hope.

THE MORNING WENT BY IN FITS and starts, and Shea was late. Her phone was going straight to voice mail, which meant she probably hadn’t remembered to turn it on again. Annie had gone back to the computer several times, just to make sure she wasn’t freaking out over nothing, but she wasn’t. Her picture, along with her first name being associated with Safe Haven, was plenty to worry about. Shea would know how many hits the site had logged, and that page in particular. A high number would be more reason to run as quickly as possible. A low number meant it was far less risky for Annie to stay.

God, she wanted to stay.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d been so intent on becoming a mover and shaker in Manhattan that she’d gotten herself into the worst trouble she could imagine. Now, she was desperate to live in a cabin that made her first New York apartment look roomy, and had fallen in love with a life of pitching hay and nursing everything from piglets to Brahma bulls. But she’d better stop romanticizing the sanctuary and her life, because that would make running even harder.

“Annie? Can I ride Candy Cane after class?”

Shaken out of her slide toward panic, she smiled at one of her favorite students—a small girl for a senior—who was deeply infatuated with horses. “You have a ride home?”

Stephanie nodded. “My mom said I could stay for an hour if it’s okay with you.”

“You bet. Candy needs a little exercise.”

The girl ran back to the work of mucking out one of the birthing stalls as Annie heard a car crunching over the gravel driveway. Her heart beat furiously as Shea parked her truck.

“Sorry I’m late. I ran into Doc Yardley and we got to talking. But I remembered to bring the—”

Annie grabbed the bag of medicine from Shea’s outstretched hand. “I need to speak to you,” she said. “Inside. I’ll be right there.”

Shea’s expression had gone from pleasant to worried, but instead of shooting back questions, she simply closed the truck door behind her and headed for the cabin.

Annie trotted to Melanie, who was helping one of the kids distribute feed to the goats. “Can you watch things for me? Something’s come up.”

Melanie, who had once considered becoming a vet, agreed at once.

It struck Annie hard that she knew so much about this quiet woman who’d made such an impact at Safe Haven and with her students. In fact, Annie knew a great deal about many of the people in this quaint Montana town. She’d meant to avoid all this. To keep to herself. Getting involved hadn’t been part of the plan, and this was why.

She forced a smile for Melanie, then turned, wanting to run to the cabin. But it wasn’t that far, and she could use the extra minute to calm herself. Since she’d seen the picture, she’d worried about a million things that could go wrong, but she hadn’t bothered to think through what she was going to tell Shea. As little as possible, yes, but where was the line?

Shea looked up from the kitchen area when Annie walked inside. She was making a fresh pot of coffee. Annie wished she had something stronger.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to ask you a favor.”

“Okay.”

Annie studied the woman she’d gotten too close to. “The picture you posted on the Sundance website, the one with me in it? I need you to take it down. Please.”

Shea didn’t react, not even a lift of her eyebrows. “All right,” she said calmly as she sat in front of Annie’s computer. Shea typed very quickly. Logging into the Sundance website, it took only a few clicks to find the photo and delete it.

Annie sighed with relief. “Did you put it up this morning?”

“No. Last night,” Shea said, returning to the desktop picture of the corral at sunset. “Late. Just before midnight.”

Twelve hours. Annie’s face had been freely available for twelve hours, but then the odds of someone from her past checking out the Sundance dude ranch website were miniscule. She didn’t think facial recognition had come far enough along to have identified her from her somewhat fuzzy profile. Still, the smart thing to do would be to get out. Now. Just in case. “Do you know how many hits that page had?”

Shea typed a bit more. “Eighteen.”

Eighteen wasn’t bad. Eighteen could be just folks from town and some of the guests.

“I won’t do that again,” Shea said. “I didn’t realize you disliked having your picture taken. I apologize.”

All Annie had to do was nod, and that would be that. Shea wouldn’t pry or tell anyone, with the possible exception of Jesse. They’d chalk it up to Annie’s reclusive ways.

But this was Shea, who had given her time, her skills, her money and her friendship without any expectations. She never overstepped, respecting Annie’s privacy in every way. Which would make leaving her in the dark the easiest thing ever.

The ache in Annie’s chest was no reason to talk, to say aloud the secrets she’d been holding close for so long. In her old life, she’d been anything but an introvert. And she’d never met a camera she hadn’t liked. “I used to be a professional fundraiser,” she said, and those few words, that small admission, revved up her heart rate again. Made her flush with heat and fear and relief.

Shea went to the coffeepot and took out two mugs from the cupboard above.

Annie closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. By the time Shea put both cups of coffee down, Annie felt ready to begin. “I was good at it. I liked the work, even after the economy tanked. I made raising money for good causes my personal crusade. Not just because I was paid to do it, but because I knew that even in the worst of times, when people donated it made them feel better.”

“Your effectiveness hasn’t diminished at all,” Shea said. “I can’t believe how fearless you are in approaching everyone you see and how favorably most of them respond.”

“People want to help. Well, most people.” Annie briefly closed her eyes. “There are also those who understand the motives behind charitable giving, and use that information to steal and destroy people’s faith and good intentions.”

“What are you saying?” Shea looked at her plainly, expecting the truth. She wasn’t naive, although some people mistook her manner for innocence.

“I worked with a partner who turned out to be one of the bad guys. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize he’d been embezzling funds until it was far too late to do anything.”

“Oh, Annie,” Shea whispered, and Annie had to turn away so she wouldn’t tear up.

“I had to leave my home. My everything.”

“Surely no one would believe you were involved. That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, but they could.” Annie thought the bitterness had left her, but it still simmered inside. “I found out secondhand that one of my clients felt something wasn’t right and approached my partner. He wanted to withdraw the money from the fund and invest it himself. My partner gave him the runaround and the client went to the district attorney.”

She set her cup aside, rubbed her hands together, then down her jeans. The cabin was so small, there was no room to pace, but she couldn’t sit still. She pulled herself up until her butt was on the edge of the sturdy table she used for everything from sewing to eating, then began to squeeze the beveled wood with her hands.

“The story hit the papers with the allegation that my partner was responsible but I might be involved after the fact. It was only a matter of days before I’d be subpoenaed by the state to tell them what I knew. Unfortunately, that amounted to nothing. I was as shocked as anyone when I saw that money was missing. All of the investment profits had been siphoned off. The seed money was still there. I went to an attorney, a good friend from college, and he flat out told me that I’d better have something on my partner. With charities involved, he felt certain someone would go down, and it could very easily be me.”

Annie flexed her hands and tried to relax her body along with her speeding thoughts. She’d never intended to tell Shea so much. Only, she’d been holding on to her silence for so long it was easy to keep talking, to spill everything. But the next part…

The next part was hard to think about, let alone say out loud. Besides, she wanted Shea to continue working with Safe Haven. To continue being a friend. “I’m not proud of what I did, but all I could think to do was run.”

Shea sipped her coffee, clearly in thinking-things-through mode. When she looked at Annie again, her blue-gray eyes showed only concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It must be horribly difficult. Do you have a large family?”

“Mom, Dad, my younger sister. I left them a letter explaining so they wouldn’t think I was dead. But I can’t call.”

“You must miss them.”

Annie sighed. “Every day.” She jumped down from the table and looked Shea in the eye. “Please, you have to keep this between us.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Annie maintained eye contact, hoping Shea understood that meant not telling Jesse. “And thanks for taking down the picture without even asking why.”

Shea, who wasn’t a toucher, put her hand on Annie’s arm. “Whatever I can do to help, all you need is to ask.”

Annie wanted to hug her, but just nodded and led the way outside, remembering in the nick of time to get the bag of equine medication. Despite the chance someone from her past had seen her on the internet, she felt lighter than she had in years.

“I INVITED HIM TO COME LIVE here,” Irene said, just before she sipped her bourbon and sweet tea.

Tucker put down his fork. “What did he say?”

She sighed. “No.”

He wasn’t surprised. “He’s got a life in New York. Friends.”

“But we’re family.” Irene’s voice had gone rough, which wasn’t unusual however much he wished she could accept the situation.

“Christian needs time, Mom. It hasn’t been long since he found out his father refused to let you see him. Most of his life he thought you didn’t want him.”

“You stopped being angry ages ago, and Rory Andrews stayed away from you out of spite.”

“I had Dad. And you. I was lucky. Christian only had Rory and whatever stories he made up.” Funny how Tucker never thought of Rory as being related, much less his biological father. His hazy memory of the man didn’t even seem real, more like a fictional character in a story Tucker had read as a kid.

“You know I wanted to keep both of you.” She took another drink, and this time it wasn’t a mere sip. Soon she’d ask him for a refill, and he’d give her one. The drinking wasn’t a problem, though it could head that way if she wasn’t careful.

But how could he blame her? Tucker’s own guilt weighed on him, and he’d been a child during the divorce. Was that the reason his desire to find Leanna Warner had become a borderline obsession? Why he’d been tempted to go early, to hell with his commitments?

No, he had to play it smart. He’d already baited the hook by suggesting the possibility of a large donation to Safe Haven. He’d put time between the email he sent and the day he was to arrive. She wouldn’t be suspicious because no one looking for her would give her that much time to run. She’d accept that he was exactly who he claimed to be—a rep for a benevolent foundation.

All he had to do was be patient, observant and ready to take her down.

WELL PAST MIDNIGHT, TUCKER stretched his neck before he looked again at the papers he’d spread over the desk in his bedroom. Every one of them related to Leanna Warner, and every one of them intrigued him in a way that was keeping him awake despite his exhaustion.

She didn’t quite add up. Her parents had been and continued to be social climbers. Joseph Warner was an attorney who’d worked for one of the most prestigious firms in New York, but he’d never made partner. His wife was an assistant manager at a design firm, again, second tier, but living among the elite.

According to Christian, Leanna had fit in so well with the wealthy young Manhattan scions and entrepreneurs that he’d been shocked to find out that she was a fund-raiser. When he’d looked closer, though, he’d seen that her “designer” clothes and accessories were clever knockoffs. It was her personality and flair that let her get past all the normal barriers.

Christian would know about that kind of thing because he was in the same boat. His finance degree had gotten him only so far in a city that thrived on connections, but his audacity had helped make him a hell of an investment manager. No wonder the two of them had decided to team up. They each wanted a lifestyle that was just out of reach.

Reading the background material was helpful, but he had to check his bias at the door. If he let his emotions take the reins there was a risk he’d miss something important, or jump to conclusions. But there was no denying that Leanna was extremely clever.

On paper, she seemed the least likely person in the world to have stolen money. But if she’d had nothing to do with the fraud, why disappear? The logical conclusion was that she’d wanted to let Christian take the fall—except she hadn’t tied him to any real evidence. One transaction record, even an email referring to an offshore bank account, could have put Christian squarely in the bull’s-eye. Instead, Leanna had been forced into a life of hiding and his brother had just enough of a stain on his reputation to cripple his future.

Though she’d made off with over $500,000, she’d left each charity’s seed money in the account, which, he suspected, was a clever way to avoid notice. At least until the whistle was blown, and then things had happened quickly. She probably hadn’t had time to clean out the rest of the funds. But who could be sure of her reasoning?

So many discrepancies and oddities made it difficult to figure out her end game. Good thing Tucker was a patient man. He wouldn’t make the mistake of acting rashly. If she had something that would nail her, he’d find it. Then turn her over to the D.A. gift-wrapped all nice and pretty.

He turned off the computer and gathered his materials. Most of what he had were printouts, but there were also several articles from New York newspapers, two yearbooks, four different brochures that Leanna had created and a short stack of photographs. The alarm was going to ring in under six hours, and his agenda was full all the way through Sunday. He wished he wasn’t committed to the Rangers game, but it was more business than pleasure, so no choice there. It had been a long time since he’d been to a game for the fun of it.

He stripped down to his boxers and climbed between the sheets. As tired as he was, he should have been out like a light, but images of Leanna…Annie…kept spinning on a loop that wouldn’t quit.

3

ANNIE LOVED THIS TIME OF YEAR. She breathed in the cool spring air and squinted at the Rockies still wearing their lacy snowcaps. Safe Haven didn’t have many cows or calves to monitor. Even if they had she wouldn’t have minded the job of running stock. Working out here in the big north field under the open sky seemed more like therapy than a chore.

She heard the pounding of hooves and forced herself to calmly turn in her saddle. Of course it was Will Woodruff riding out to take her place and not guys wearing suits and badges coming to slap handcuffs on her. Twenty-four hours had passed since Shea had deleted the photo, long enough to assume that if the wrong person had seen it, Annie would’ve been picked up by now. But not long enough to stop her from jumping at every shadow.

That didn’t mean she’d let down her guard, but…she had to stop dwelling on it. The odds were in her favor and she’d decided to take the risk. In the meantime, she had a hell of a lot of animals and people counting on her.

“Afternoon, Annie. Anything I should know?” Will, who’d been a wild man in his heyday, a cowboy renowned for breaking the meanest horses and taming beautiful women, was in his sixties now and a valuable volunteer.

“Everything’s fine. Anything exciting back at the ranch?” she couldn’t help asking.

He looked at her as if she were nuts. “Not a thing.”

They chatted for a minute, then she took off for home base, ready for some lunch before she moved on to chores in the barn.

Her first task after washing up and getting coffee was checking her email. A message from the Rocking B ranch made her pause. After reading the long email three times, she still pinched herself, just to make sure she was conscious. Then she went to the Texas ranch’s website.

Looking at the list of grants and gifts the philanthropic arm of the Rocking B had shelled out through the years made her break into goose bumps. Those people didn’t mess around. When they gave a worthy nonprofit funding, they gave enough to matter.

With shaking fingers, Annie bookmarked everything, then got out her cell phone. Good thing Shea picked up or Annie surely would’ve burst.

TUCKER LOVED TO FLY, AND EVERY time he went up in the Cessna, he thought about his father. It had been Michael Brennan’s idea to send Tucker to flight school. The old man had been progressive in his thinking, and the ranch showed it.

The CJ2+ had earned its keep, despite the hefty price tag. It seemed as if Tucker’s attention was always needed yesterday and flying gave him the freedom to respond immediately. It would be good to have the plane nearby when he met Annie Sheridan. There was always a chance that she’d want to give herself up. He wasn’t counting on it.

The email exchange hadn’t been as illuminating as he’d hoped. Although he found it interesting that Shea Monroe was so invested in the workings of Safe Haven that she’d authored most of the correspondence.

A quick search of Monroe’s name had prompted Tucker to send a link to George. He confirmed that she had high security clearance and was connected to some government programs that could be worth a fortune if sold to the right party. Tucker found it hard to believe that Leanna Warner would go to a backwater town like Blackfoot Falls without a good reason.

He shook his head, knowing he’d passed the point of no return given all he’d invested in that one vague online photo. Although the fact that the picture had disappeared without a trace, even in the computer’s cache, was suspicious in itself. Fortunately, he’d saved it to his hard drive.

Annie’s emails had focused on logistics, informing him of the airfield in Kalispell, the nearest moderately sized town that had accommodations and car rentals. He’d booked a room at the Hilton Garden Inn, reserved an SUV.

The closer he got to Montana, the more he thought about meeting the woman who had taken over a large portion of his brain. She confused him. Intrigued him. While he’d done his fair share of tricky negotiations with savvy competitors, he had the feeling his skills would be tested to the limit.

He’d have to be on his toes. Remember what lurked behind the beautiful face. And not for a second forget what she’d done to Christian.

ANNIE LOOKED UP FROM THE TABLE where she’d stacked copies of the Safe Haven board meeting agenda. Time had decided to slow down to a snail’s pace, giving her a wonderful opportunity to let worry overshadow every bit of potential good that might come from Tucker Brennan’s visit.

Safe Haven was too small. There were only a handful of permanent part-time volunteers. Because of their remote location, even if she could attract more help, they had to be local, and she’d already dried that well.

No, the problem was, most every animal sanctuary she’d researched had a visitor’s program and a welcoming atmosphere for potential adopters. She couldn’t even try to have guests because there wasn’t a hotel in Blackfoot Falls.

She’d hated telling Brennan he’d have to fly all the way from Dallas, then drive to Safe Haven. And she sure hoped he’d like the food at Marge’s, because that was his only choice. She just wished he would get here already.

No; in fact, what she really wished was that he would stop by, hand her a huge check, then go. Although she’d researched his credentials down to his alma mater, strangers made her nervous. Brennan lived miles away from her old stomping grounds in Manhattan, but there was always a chance that he knew someone who knew someone….

God, she had to stop thinking like that. Instead, she collated, stapled, put paper into file folders. In the end, it ate up ten minutes. Ten. And Brennan wasn’t due for another hour or so. She’d never survive.

She could change, but no, she’d wait. The clothes she had on—work jeans, old tee, boots—were perfectly fine for day-to-day. It didn’t matter that she smelled like a barn. But she would prefer to spiff up a little for the big shot with a checkbook. Nothing too fancy, just better jeans and a clean shirt.

Talk about a different life. In the beginning, she’d missed shopping like crazy, but she’d adapted. Learned to cook a little. she’d have killed for a pricy latte…okay, still would. But there were advantages to living on this very thin wire. She’d also learned to sew, and was grateful for the training because she’d had to patch up more than a few animals. Safe Haven survived due to the kindness of a few key players, like the vet, Dr. Yardley, who donated what time he could. Mr. Jorgensen from the feed and hardware floated loans for grain and other supplies. In fact, the whole sanctuary was built out of goodwill and patience, but Mr. Brennan could change all that.

Thanks to Shea, Annie had seen the difference an infusion of cash could bring to a two-bit operation like Safe Haven. But she remained cautious. Hope was only a friend in small measure. She didn’t dare put herself in a position where she might fall into another pit of despair. It had taken her almost a year to climb out of the last one.

A quick knock at the door was followed instantly by one of the school kids ducking his head in. “Pinocchio’s gotten stuck in the fence by the water pump.”

All thoughts of Tucker Brennan vanished as Annie grabbed her gloves, followed the boy out of the cabin and ran as fast as she could.

THE DRIVE WAS PLEASANT, considering the circumstances. Tucker had only been to Montana for business, and never this far north. Looking out at the Rockies and the acres of lush land brought back memories of his early days when he’d still been learning about ranching from the ground up.

His father had made sure he’d done every job the Rocking B had for a cowboy. It had been hard work, but worth as much as his college years. His apprenticeship had given him more than just hands-on experience; it had given him perspective.

He barely noticed the town of Blackfoot Falls from the highway. It was like a thousand others across the country with a local diner that served great home-cooked meals, a bar that offered cheap beer, pool tables and country music. All he cared about was that it was thirty miles from the Safe Haven turnoff.

Finally, he saw the big wooden sign that marked the entrance to the sanctuary. He was early, hoping the surprise would give him a slight edge. He liked to take stock of people when they were flustered. They revealed more than they knew.

So he slowed the rented SUV to keep the dust down as he headed for the main buildings. He passed one pasture with a half dozen horses, none of whom were particularly bothered by his vehicle. They looked pretty decent for rescue animals.

The fencing was sturdy, if old-school, about what he’d expected. According to the info he’d gathered on Safe Haven, there had been a few corrals, a barn, two stables and a cabin standing when Annie took over. Clearly, she’d made improvements.

His pulse revved as he neared the buildings. In one glance, he’d know the truth. But the truth alone wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to use every moment he could to catch her vulnerable and get the evidence he needed. Even if it took a couple of days.

He pulled into a small parking area. There were several trucks lined up, mostly pickups, a tractor that had seen better days and a short yellow school bus.

Behind it was the cabin that had to be Annie’s living quarters. She hadn’t been kidding when she said it was small. But the working buildings gave a good first impression. Well spaced, old, but taken care of. In back of the barn he saw a small crowd of folks standing in a semicircle, as if they were watching a fight. Something pretty fierce, if the dust coming from the center was any indication.

He jumped out of the SUV, his inner alarm bells ringing. As he approached the crowd, he saw that the onlookers were kids—high school age—and two adults, a middle-aged woman pressing a hand to her throat and a petite twenty-something holding the arm of one of the teenagers, preventing the boy from moving forward. They all looked worried.

And then he heard it. The cry of a panicked, bleating goat.

He jogged the last few feet until he could muscle past the outer ring of spectators. It was a pygmy goat whose horns were tangled up in some high-tensile wire. Despite the name, pygmies weren’t that much smaller than other breeds of goats, and the situation was dangerous. The woman trying to free him was taking a hell of a risk. Goats were notorious for their fear response. They kicked and struggled so fiercely they sometimes died from their hearts giving out.

Tucker knew the best thing to do was let the goat be and hope he tired himself out in time for intervention. Because a person trying to save one could well end up needing a doctor.

The woman making that mistake was Annie Sheridan. He had to admit she made quick work of cutting free the wire, but he could see she’d been battered and bruised. Her blond hair was damp with sweat, her face smeared with mud and blood.

The kid next to Tucker was a big beefy guy whipping the side of his leg with a pair of thick gloves.

He nudged the boy, who did a double take. “Lend me your gloves.”

“Annie told us not to step in,” he said. “It could be dangerous.”

“I understand.”

The boy looked him up and down, then handed him the pair. Tucker slid them on as he shouldered his way closer to Annie and the struggling goat.

She had just managed to cut the second to last wire curled around the goat’s right horn when the back-leg kicking started again. Tucker ducked what could have been a very unfortunately placed hoof, then lunged forward, one hand on the back of the animal, the other grabbing on to his horn.

“What the…Get out of here, you idiot!”

“Cut the damn wire.” Tucker was holding the goat’s head back, just enough to unbalance him so he couldn’t lean on his front legs. “Now.”

Annie, grunting as the goat’s body slammed her in the side, got the final wire cut.

Tucker had to use both hands to steady the terrified creature, while Annie quickly and efficiently cleared away the loosened wire fragments from his other horn.

The goat was free now, but he didn’t know it, and Tucker didn’t want to release him until Annie was out of the way. But she was too busy shouting at him to move to see that his position was stronger.

It was someone from the crowd that finally got her attention. An older man ran up, yelling, “Annie, get the hell out of there.”

She did. Quick on her feet even with that prodigious frown on her face.

Tucker stopped looking at her and focused on making his own exit. It took a highly uncoordinated jump straight back, after which he nearly fell on his ass, but the goat did the right thing and ran toward the barn.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

For the first time, he got a good, clear look at the woman who’d just yelled at him, her fury uncompromised by her dirty face or her breathless exhaustion.

He didn’t answer. He was too busy accepting the fact that he had found Leanna Warner.

4

“WELL, THIS IS PERFECT,” Annie said, shaking her head. “Of course you’re Tucker Brennan.”

“And you’re Annie Sheridan.”

She nodded, made an abortive move to shake his hand, but her gloves were still on and her body had decided to alert her to a whole symphony of hurts and burns. What she would feel like when the adrenaline faded was going to be torture. “Welcome to Safe Haven,” she said. “You’re bleeding.”

He followed her gaze down to his arm where there was now a rip in his shirt. There was blood, but while the cut was long, it wasn’t deep. “Damn. I like this shirt.”

“Sorry about that.” She looked him over, just beginning to appreciate that the man in front of her was in a league she didn’t come across anymore. The McAllister brothers were prime examples of tall, dark and handsome, no doubt about it. The sheriff and Matt Gunderson, too. But Brennan had a different kind of good looks.

Even with the rip in his shirt and those hefty gloves, she could picture him sipping champagne at a ritzy social event as naturally as riding the range. He wasn’t New York fancy, though, which became very clear when he tugged off the gloves. There were some calluses, and he had a tan that wasn’t perfect enough to have come from relaxing at the spa.

He was a gentleman rancher, certainly…with thick dark hair, a strong face and intense green eyes, all of which she shouldn’t be noticing. He was doing his own inventory of her assets and liabilities, and she couldn’t begrudge him. Though if he’d been another man she might’ve found his close scrutiny a bit creepy.

“Let’s head to the cabin,” she said. “I can patch you up there.”

“I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are a mess.”

“Um, yes.” She couldn’t help but smile as she glanced down at herself. “Yes, I am.” It could’ve been worse had she already changed to her good clothes. She looked over her shoulder toward the barn. God bless them, the kids had already returned to their chores. Although they’d be leaving soon. “Actually, I need to make sure Levi is tending to Pinocchio before I do anything else. We can get you a cloth to put on that cut, if you think it can wait.”

“Yeah, this is nothing.” He waved dismissively. “I’m assuming Pinocchio is the unlucky goat.”

She nodded, leading him across the mix of packed dirt and gravel that became a muddy pit during rainy season. “He’s a curious guy, and he never seems deterred by the messes he gets himself into.”

“Goats can be difficult.”

“Every animal in Safe Haven can be difficult. I think they sign some kind of agreement before coming here.” She gestured vaguely. “Prelude to the tour. This is where we house the goats and chickens. We have twenty-two goats as of yesterday. We’re always on the hunt for new families for them, but only for milking and breeding, not for meat.”

On a shelf by the door, she picked up and folded a clean rag from a pile and handed it to him. He pressed it against the cut, hissing a little.

Annie figured he would be fine for the next ten minutes or so. He was a rancher, so he understood that her first responsibility was to the stock. “The chickens, they kind of came with the place. Sometimes I’ll wake up to new hens, more so roosters that people have dropped off.”

She watched Tucker scope out the barn. Feed was safely stored behind big fences. The coops were spacious and well maintained. The goats had new water tanks from a central well, which had been the most expensive improvement since she’d taken over. No more lugging pails. Cleaning troughs? That job would never disappear. But then, that was something the high school kids helped with.

“That must be Levi,” Tucker said, looking toward a bale of hay where the older man sat petting Pinocchio gently as his wife, Kathy, worked on cleaning the goat’s wounds.

As Annie slowed her step, Tucker did, as well. No need to spook Pinocchio any further. Not that the other animals paid that any mind. Chickens wandered and pecked, making a racket that had become white noise to Annie. Some of the other goats were nursing or filching scratch from the hens. There were stalls for resting and birthing, and stacked bales of hay for the baby goats—kids—to find their legs.

“It’s a great setup,” Tucker said.

“We’re always at capacity.” Looking on, she sighed. “That’s what’s hard. So many in need, and we try not to overcrowd the barn. I’ve tapped out the locals for the most part. Though we’re lucky to have an animal rescue pilot living nearby. Jesse has taken special cases to better-equipped shelters.”

“How’s Pinocchio doing?” Tucker asked, speaking to Levi and his wife.

“Banged up some,” Kathy said, “but he’ll be fine once he gets his calm back. He’s a devil, this one. If he wasn’t so darn adorable we’d have pitched him out ages ago.”

Both Levi and Annie laughed. “The day you pitch out an animal is the day we close up shop,” Annie said. “You’re worse than all of us.”

Kathy’s kids had left the nest. She and Levi, a former teacher, had been married for thirty-two years. She’d grown up in cattle country, and her wiry body was fit and strong. At sixty, she could still lift a fifty-pound bag of feed without breaking a sweat.

Her husband was just as sturdy. He didn’t let his arthritis stop him. “What the dickens were you thinking, jumping into that mess?” he asked, frowning up at Tucker.

The slow curve of his mouth and amusement in his eyes said he wasn’t normally spoken to in that manner. “I saw an opening. I took it.”

“Could have got yourself killed.” Levi shifted his stink eye to Annie. “And you sure as hell know better. Just who do you think would take over for you if you got hurt bad? You need to think of that before you rush in next time. We can’t save everyone,” he said, his gaze softening as he turned back to Pinocchio. “Much as we’d like to.”

Annie wanted to change the subject quickly. The last thing she needed was for Tucker to think she was irresponsible. She couldn’t very well yell at Levi for speaking the truth, but did he have to be so blunt with Brennan standing right there? Grasping for the quickest exit she could think of, she winced, touched her side and breathed a soft, “Ow.”

TUCKER’S ATTENTION FLEW TO Annie. Her face didn’t show the pain she had to be feeling. But she could be hiding something serious beneath those well-worn clothes. “We should get you fixed up,” he said.

She nodded, and all he could think of was that seeing her pictures and even the videos had not prepared him for this striking woman. He’d known she was tall, but in heels she would just about reach his height of six-one. Even with the grime smeared across her cheeks, he could see she had smooth, creamy skin. Her lack of concern for her appearance finally struck him. She’d given him a rag but hadn’t taken one for herself.

Once she wiped off the mud, he wondered if her eyes would still look so blue under those thick lashes. And her hair was…interesting. He’d bet she cut it herself, but it somehow made her look more appealing. Her beauty was a perfect cover, all right. Of course Christian would have been captivated by her. Hell, any man would have.

She cast a final look at Pinocchio, then turned for the door. Tucker paced himself so he could get a look at her from the back. Long and lean, she walked with utter confidence. Another puzzle to work out. Why? Why had she run, only to end up working her ass off out in the middle of nowhere?

He got a quick look at the stable as they passed by. The younger woman he’d seen earlier approached Annie with a smile. “You okay?” the woman asked.

“Fine. Banged up a bit. But fine.” Annie turned briefly to Tucker. “This is Melanie Knowles. She teaches at the local high school and is responsible for bringing the kids you’ve seen out here. Mel, this is Tucker Brennan.”

He shook the woman’s hand, but she was clearly too concerned about Annie to bother with him.

“You need some help?” she asked, nodding at the already blooming bruise forming on Annie’s forearm.

“I’ll be fine. All the help I need is that you and the gang are here.”

“We’ve got you covered,” Melanie said, then nodded at him and circled back to the stable, where more of her charges were waiting.

Annie had developed a slight limp as they finally made their way into the cabin. He reached to hold the door at the same time she did. The awkward dance ended with her the victor. Then she nearly ran into him when he stepped inside and stopped dead still.

This was more like a line shack than a cabin. A crappy line shack at that. There was a beaten-up table in the center of the small room, three mismatched chairs pushed under it. A counter held a microwave while a toaster oven and a big coffeepot flanked the sink. On the sideboard sat a computer, and above that was a large chalk duty roster that listed volunteers, chores, memos and reminders. Under the sideboard was a dorm fridge. A leather recliner had been pushed so far up against a wall he doubted there was any chance of it actually reclining.

Stairs led up to a loft, which he imagined was her bedroom. The only other door had to be the bathroom, and that was it. He could probably fit the entire place into his walk-in closet at the ranch.

She touched his arm to sneak around him, making him jump. “Sorry. The bathroom’s back there. Why don’t you go in first and wash up? You should probably take off that shirt and let me have a go at that cut.”

Tucker nodded and made his way to the bathroom, maneuvering around the table. He noticed a brass lamp, the only decorative object on the lower floor. There were no pictures, no trinkets, no nothing. He assumed the cupboards were as sparse as everything else. It would have made a perfect home for a monk. But hard for someone who had things to hide. With no space to spare, she’d have to get creative.

He’d sure like to get a look upstairs. If there was anything tying Leanna to her past, she’d keep it close when she was most vulnerable.

The bathroom was so small it made his jaw drop. The toilet desperately needed replacing, and next to that was a very tiny shower. There was enough room to turn around. That was it. The plastic curtain was too long for the bar, and he couldn’t picture any woman he’d ever known who would last two days in this miniature house.

The pedestal sink looked old with its stains, but clean. Underneath, there was a medical kit, and above, a wooden cabinet with a small mirror.

His hand hit the shower enclosure as he took his shirt off. Putting it on the closed toilet, he soaped up. He checked his torso for bruises and cuts, but there was only one on his upper right hip, and while it was getting ugly, he’d survive. The cut on his arm stung, and it started bleeding a little, but it was shallow and would stop soon. No stitches needed, although an aspirin would be welcome.

Using one of the fresh-smelling towels, he dried off, grabbed his shirt and the medical kit and went back to the main room. “It’s all yours,” he said.

Annie opened her mouth but didn’t speak. Instead, she stared at his bared chest. He knew he wasn’t anything like one of those six-pack guys in catalogs, but he kept himself in good shape. The way she blushed surprised him, but then again, this was ostensibly a business meeting.

“I made some coffee,” she said, finally, and that’s when the aroma hit. “You’ll find everything you need, unless you want cream. I do have some goat milk in there, though.”

“Thanks.”

He watched her go, feeling huge and clumsy in this small room, although he normally wasn’t. But as he investigated, finding mugs along with plates and glasses and utensils, he realized how organized Annie had to be to make things work.

What was the use of running away with the money if this is how she had to live? There weren’t two mugs that matched, or two plates. Everything looked secondhand. The fridge had very little to say for itself—the milk, a couple of bags of greens, some condiments, two beers way in the back. A tiny freezer section held a couple of frozen burritos and ice trays.

It wasn’t surprising that the most abundant food in the cabin were packages of ramen noodles. This was worse than a dorm room.

She came out of the bathroom with her T-shirt untucked. She’d lost the pink on her cheeks, but she wasn’t back to meeting his gaze. “Please sit,” she said, kicking out one of the chairs.

“Can we have coffee while we do this?”

“Yes.” Her demeanor changed with that one word, her face somehow expressing real pleasure without having to smile. “Of course.”

So, without the smudges on her smooth cheeks, her eyes were still that incredible blue. He liked her mouth, as well. Full lips, well-defined and naturally pink. She wore no makeup, and she sure didn’t need any.

He tensed when he realized what he was doing. Twenty minutes since he’d met her and he was already getting distracted by her looks. Christ.

She blinked, then lowered her lashes. “Go ahead,” she said, with a jerky tilt of her head that had him cursing himself for staring too long. “I’ll get the supplies sorted, then fix myself a cup.”

Together, they made it through the dance of moving with only one open path. She almost avoided his chest, but that one brush of her shoulder made them both freeze as if they’d done something illegal. Annie cleared her throat, and he managed to ignore the contact.

He sat down with his coffee and tore open a package of gauze while he waited for her to fill her mug. The situation was perfect for his purposes. Sudden intimacy with a relative stranger was something no one could plan for. He would find out more about Annie in the next ten minutes than he would being shown around the sanctuary. But only if he stopped allowing himself to be distracted. She was a stunner, no argument there. Knowing how she’d used her looks to dupe his brother made him more the fool if he fell victim.

Along with her coffee, she brought a wet cloth and clean towel to the table with her. A pair of scissors, antiseptic and other first-aid needs had already been laid out. He watched her eye his arm, her top teeth toying with her bottom lip. She winced a second before she swabbed him with alcohol, and so did Tucker.

Far from the cool distance of someone used to causing pain, her expression was the picture of concern. A sharp inhale through clenched teeth, a soft, “Sorry,” as she used a second swab. Once she covered the cut with gauze, her shoulders relaxed, and she was again the confident woman in charge. What he couldn’t tell yet was if her empathetic response was completely false.

“Thanks,” he said. “Now you.”

“Oh. No. I can handle it.”

“I doubt it,” he said, watching her reluctance turn into another blush. “I was there.”

When she finally responded it was with a weary sigh. “Okay, but I know it’s nothing.” She slowly got to her feet, looking as if she’d rather be walking barefoot on hot coals. “It’s my back. I got caught on a wire.”

He turned in his seat as she stood directly in front of him, his eyes level with her leather belt. Now that he was looking for it, he could see spots of blood on her shirt. She lifted it carefully, exposing a long stretch of what would have been perfectly pale skin. Instead, there were two sizable bruises that were coloring in darkly.

“I don’t know,” he said, in no way faking his own concern, which made him uncomfortable. “Maybe you should get these checked out. It looks bad.” He touched the worst of it with careful fingers.

Annie inhaled sharply. “If you’d stop poking at it.”

“I’m trying to make sure there’s no internal hemorrhaging.”

“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“This one’s over your kidney. It could be dangerous.”

“I know there’s no real damage,” she said, lifting the shirt higher, but now with evident tension running through her. “I know because I was kicked by a horse years ago. So, the cut?”

“Right,” he murmured, the word coming out low and slow as her bra strap came into view. It was the least fancy bra imaginable. White, no frills. A sensible bra that had no business looking like that against her pale flesh. Just as he had no business noticing.

The bruises hurt him to see, and the cut was no picnic, but it was impossible not to notice the rest of her body. The sleek elegance of her lines, the curve of her waist, the indention of her delicate spine. This close, her scent came through. Yeah, she was no rose petal, not from a foot or so away, but from inches, she smelled like a ripe peach. Damn his senses for the traitors they were. He murmured another curse.

“What? Is it that bad?”

He cleared his throat and moved his gaze to where she’d been bleeding. Now that he had some focus, he saw it wasn’t a bad cut, on par with his own, but there was no way she could have taken care of it herself.

Tucker got a swab at the same time he pulled himself together. “No. It’s fine. But it’s gonna sting like hell.”

“Go for it.”

He did, and this time, their roles were neatly reversed. He winced—especially with the feeling so present in his memory—although he didn’t apologize or make any noise at all. His job was to be efficient. Observant. He had a rare opportunity in front of him, and he was so busy thinking with his dick it was slipping away.

“This was some introduction, huh?” Her laugh was high and nervous. “I’m really sorry—”

“Do not apologize. I completely understand.” Good. Back to business. “I saw a quarter horse that looked ready to foal. How many mares are pregnant?”

She seemed to relax even though he was taking the second swab to her cut. “We’ve had two births so far, both healthy. Besides Glory, one more is close enough to get her own birthing stall, and another one is showing. That’s it, because we’re keeping the mares separate, but they’re the last of a large herd that was kind of dumped on us. Most of them were taken to a horse sanctuary in Wyoming, but we’ve got the rest.

“Thankfully, they’re pretty healthy now. Some—” She stopped when his fingers touched her skin as he worked to adjust the gauze before taping it. “Some of them were undernourished,” she continued. “And the vet was here a lot in the beginning. We’ve got a line on new homes for a couple of the stallions, which is amazing. It’s going to be hard to place them.”

“I’ll take a look at them, if you like. I can’t promise anything, but I know some people who might be interested, and they’re not too far away.”

“Yeah, distance is a problem for us. I’d appreciate any help you can give.”

“Okay,” he said. “You’re all set. Are you sure there’s nowhere else you might need help? I can get Melody in here, if that’s more comfortable.”

“Melanie.” Annie dropped her shirt. “And no, but thank you. If you’re up for it, we can take a real tour. You can bring your coffee with you, or we could finish it here if you’d rather.” She gave him a quick smile, then handed him his shirt.

He stood, slipped it on and angled away to tuck it in. When he faced her again, she was drinking her coffee, her gaze focused on something other than him.

Was she thinking of another life? Of future plans? She understood that the Rocking B Foundation gave sizable grants and gifts. It could turn this little operation into something to be reckoned with, and considering they had access to aircraft, the potential for animal services was huge. Or maybe she was just thinking about how the foundation money, along with the stolen investments, could build her a dream home right across the border in Canada.

“We can walk and talk,” he said. “That is, if you’re not too sore. But I’d like to grab another cup of coffee.”

“There’s no such thing as too sore working a ranch. I guess you already know that.”

Not the way she did. He’d been part of a big machine. Yes, he’d had to learn all the grunt work jobs, then those that took skill. But very few times had he faced the cold of a winter morning alone, when every animal in sight was counting on him for food and shelter and care.

There was nothing simple about sanctuaries. He’d investigated a hell of a lot of them. Each time, there was one individual or couple who were the lifeblood and soul of the operation. Those who gave up any sense of a normal life to the welfare of the animals.

She’d been doing it almost on her own for two years. He didn’t have the faintest idea why. Penance made no sense. Not when she could go back to New York and really make things right. How was it he hadn’t anticipated her working like a dog? What had she done with the money she’d already stolen?

“You know, I’ve got to make a couple of phone calls.” He checked his watch, then made sure he looked at her when he added, “Would it be okay if I met you in the stable in about twenty minutes?”

There. A flash of panic that was gone in the blink of an eye. Just long enough for him to see her gaze fly to the loft and back. She didn’t want him here alone. Not for anything. But he simply waited her out.

“Sure. No problem. I’ll see you there.”

“Thanks. I won’t be long.”

Annie picked up her coffee mug, then set it in the sink without taking another sip. She hesitated at the door as if she was working out what to say to him, but in the end, she stepped outside. He watched her walk down the path, his phone to his ear.

The minute she was out of sight, he headed straight up the steps. His heart was beating too quickly, but there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn’t used to subterfuge. He’d always believed in facing his problems head-on. But this case was the exception to all his rules.

He saved the obvious for last, moving quickly around the room, looking at the floorboards, the wall for any possible nook where she could have something stashed.

With no paintings and no closet, there wasn’t much territory to explore, but he took his time. The dresser was filled with clothes, packed tight. Still, he pulled each one all the way out to look underneath the drawer. Nothing.

The bed was intact, as far as he could tell without stripping it completely, but underneath…

Coffee cans. Four of them. And an old-fashioned suitcase. That’s what he opened first, checking his watch, appalled at how long everything was taking. She could come back any second, and she’d have every reason to call the cops on him.

The suitcase was full of paperback books and music CDs. He checked every pocket twice, flipped through the books and popped open the CD cases, but he didn’t find anything noteworthy. Disappointed, he shoved the case back under the bed.

He hit one of the cans of coffee, and just to be sure, he checked. It was unopened coffee. So was the next, and the next.

The fourth one had an unsealed envelope. Inside, it was a single sheet of paper with a typed number and password. He was certain the number was for a bank account. There was also a driver’s license in the name of Alison Bishop, with a picture that sort of looked like Annie, and a roll of cash thicker than his fist.

After he took a picture of the license and the account number, he put it all back under the bed just the way he’d found it. Then he got the hell out of there before she caught him red-handed.

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