Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Wrong Woman

The Wrong Woman
Linda Warren
They say everyone has a double… And according to private investigator Ethan Ramsey, Serena Farrell's double is a stripper working in a Dallas nightclub. Serena doesn't believe it - but she can't help wondering. After all, her mother died when she was an infant and she's been raised by wealthy grandparents who refused to discuss the past.So she knows next to nothing about her parents. Could she possibly have a sister? A twin? She decides to hire Ethan to find out who this other woman is. That fateful decision leads to some shocking revelations about Serena's family - and about her look-alike, Sarah Welch. It also leads Serena into Ethan's arms…and into his heart.


“You have something to tell me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Serena swallowed. “Is my mother dead or alive?” She’d been afraid to ask that, but now she couldn’t avoid it.
“She’s dead,” Ethan answered. “Jasmine died from the injuries she received in that car crash the night before your birth—just like your grandmother told you.”
She bit her lip. “Somehow…I guess…I hoped she was alive.”
Ethan had grown very still beside her and she knew there was more. “What is it?”
“Your grandmother didn’t tell you the whole truth. I searched a little deeper and found…”
“What?”
“Jasmine Farrell gave birth to twin girls.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then she leaped to her feet. Twin girls. Around and around the words went in her head until she had to accept them. “That means the stripper’s my sister. My twin. My double!”
Dear Reader,
Has anyone ever claimed to have seen someone who looks like you? How did you—or would you—react? Would you shrug it off? Laugh? Or would you think about it constantly?
That’s what happens to Serena Farrell in The Wrong Woman. She hears about a woman who’s a dead ringer for her. She can’t stop thinking about the other woman and is finally driven to hire a private investigator to find her.
Ethan Ramsey, the P.I., appeared in two of my other books, Straight from the Heart and Emily’s Daughter. Now he faces a case that intrigues him—as does the blue-eyed, red-haired Serena. If there are two women like this, he has to see them!
Serena’s and Ethan’s lives become entangled in ways they don’t expect. I hope you enjoy their quest to find the woman who looks like Serena. (And if someone sees a person who looks like you—laugh about it. That’s the best reaction.) Thanks for reading my books.
Linda Warren
P.S. You can reach me at LW1508@aol.com,
www.superauthors.com, www.lindawarren.net or you can write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805. Your letters will always be answered.

The Wrong Woman
Linda Warren



DEDICATION
To Diannia Dudake Landry, my cousin, my sister, my best friend all rolled into one. I pray that in the years ahead, we’ll be as close as in years past. Thanks for just being you and always being there for me. And hopefully, one of us will always remember the way home.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks to Joe and Joanna Johnston and Jim Gatewood for sharing their expert knowledge and for being so nice. And to Laurie Fay for continuing to answer my many questions with such patience. Any errors are strictly mine.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE
“WOW, ETHAN, take a look at her.”
Ethan Ramsey didn’t raise his head. He twisted the beer in his hand, felt the coolness of the glass against his fingers and wondered what would happen if he took a swallow. Would he want another? Then another?
Travis glanced at his brother and noticed his preoccupation with the beer. “Why’d you order the damn thing? You know you’re not gonna drink it.”
“A test, I suppose,” he answered solemnly.
“Damn, Ethan, you beat anything I’ve ever seen. You have the strongest willpower of anyone I know. You went through a bad spell with liquor, but you had good reason. Under the circumstances, any man would’ve lost it.”
Ethan didn’t answer. He kept twisting the glass, trying to decide if any man had a good enough reason to obliterate the world from his mind.
“Check out the stripper, Ethan. You won’t regret it.”
Ethan wasn’t interested in the stripper. He was more interested in getting Travis out of the strip club. He didn’t want to be here in the first place and would never have come on his own. Unfortunately he’d allowed his younger brother to make their evening plans and—
“Ethan!” Travis called above all the jeers and yells.
Ethan turned toward the girl. She was beautiful, stunning, actually, with long legs, a tiny waist, full breasts, creamy skin and hair the color of rich copper. It hung down her back and she tossed it around her in seductive movements. She was taking off the few clothes she had on and the men were going wild. Ethan focused on her face and the blue of her eyes. They were blank, desolate, a look he’d seen many times in the course of his career. He’d been an FBI agent until he was injured in the line of duty. Victims, especially the abused, had that look. The girl hated being on stage in front of all these men. She was being forced to strip. He knew that without a doubt, and anger surged through him.
He told himself it was none of his business. But that didn’t work. He kept staring at the girl’s face and realized he had to get out of there or he’d do something stupid.
He stood abruptly. “Let’s go.”
Travis’s head jerked toward him. “What? We’ve only been here thirty minutes.”
“Let’s go,” Ethan repeated in a voice Travis clearly recognized. Moodily he followed Ethan outside to the truck.
Ethan got behind the wheel and Travis crawled into the passenger side. “You have a way of ruining my whole day,” Travis complained. “I forgot that annoying little habit of yours.”
“It’s two in the morning,” Ethan reminded him as he backed out and pulled into traffic.
“So what?”
“So you’re thirty-eight years old and still going to strip joints. When the hell are you gonna grow up?”
“Whenever I damn well please,” Travis returned, leaning his head back. “I’m not like you and Pop. I don’t want a life that’s so structured you’re old before your time. I have to be myself.”
Ethan rolled his eyes at the tiresome cliché. “Fine,” he muttered, “but that also comes with a price.”
“Oh, God,” Travis groaned. “Don’t preach to me.”
Ethan didn’t say anything else because he knew they’d get into a full-blown argument. That was the last thing he wanted, especially when Travis had had too much to drink. Not only that, Ethan couldn’t shake his feeling about the stripper. It still bothered him, and he was taking it out on Travis. His brother could make his own decisions—even if he didn’t like them—and Ethan had to respect that.
As they drove up to Travis’s apartment, Ethan couldn’t resist asking, “Did you notice the redhead’s eyes?”
Travis sat up straight. “The stripper?”
“Yeah.”
Travis laughed. “Her eyes? No, I wasn’t looking at her eyes and if you were, you’re getting as stodgy as Pop.”
Ethan turned off the engine, letting that last remark slide. “Someone’s forcing her to strip.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you see how scared she was and how she hated the men yelling and leering at her?”
“No, I didn’t see any of that. Shut off your FBI radar. You’re imagining things.”
Was he? He didn’t think so, but he had to forget it. He wasn’t an agent anymore. He was a rancher; he did P.I. work on the side, but only when people asked for his help, and the only people who needed his help right now were his family. He’d spent years working all over the country; that time away had come with personal casualties—a divorce, not being home when his mom died, a bullet to his hip and…the loss of a son. Even now, he had to stop before he’d let himself think those words. That pain would never leave him. Sometimes… He stopped his thoughts and glanced at Travis, who was lounging in the seat, head nodding. These days, family was his top priority. He had to find a way to talk to Travis without arguing.
He’d come to Dallas for that reason—to try to get Travis home for a visit. Their father and Travis had been at odds for years. It was time for family unity. Their sister, Molly, had just gone through a bitter divorce and she needed family around her, but getting Travis home was proving to be a more difficult task than he’d figured.
When Ethan had arrived in Dallas early that evening, Travis was preparing for a gig. He played in a local nightclub three nights a week. Travis grew up strumming his guitar and singing anywhere he could. He didn’t like ranch work, which was a constant source of contention between him and Pop. After high school, Pop had wanted him to go to college, but Travis headed for Nashville to become a country music star. When it didn’t happen, his pride wouldn’t let him come home. They didn’t hear much from him after that, but Ethan had ways of keeping tabs on him. Travis now worked as a foreman for a construction company. He was staying in one spot finally, and Ethan knew it was time to talk.
After the gig, Travis had insisted on the strip club, which certainly wasn’t to Ethan’s taste. He’d gone along, trying to be patient, but his patience was wearing thin.
They reached the apartment building and Travis unlocked his door. “You can have my bed,” Travis said as they went inside. “I’ll use the sofa bed.”
Ethan removed his hat and placed it on the coffee table next to an empty pizza box and some beer cans. Travis wasn’t much of a housekeeper. “Sleep in your own bed,” he replied. “I’m not an invalid.” He hated when people treated him differently because of his hip injury. “Besides, I’ll be up early,” he added in a softer tone.
Travis rubbed his chin. “I don’t have to work tomorrow, so I ain’t getting up early.”
“I’ll probably be gone before you wake up.”
“Damn, Ethan, what’s the rush?”
“It’s hard for Pop to handle the ranching chores by himself.”
“He does it when you’re off on one of your cases,” Travis reminded him.
“I always get Roy Dawson to help him,” he told him. “Pop’s sixty-five, Travis, and he’s slowing down.”
Travis shoved both hands through his hair. “You want me to come home. That’s why you’re here.”
Ethan pushed a mound of clothes aside and sat on the sofa. “Yes, for a visit. Is that so bad? Molly’s having a rough time and she could use your support.”
“Bruce is a bastard, leaving her for a twenty-year-old girl. The man must be going through a midlife crisis.”
“Yeah.” Ethan stood and stretched. “That’s Bruce’s problem. I’m not sure what yours is. Your whole life has been a midlife crisis.” The words came out before Ethan could stop them. He had a habit of speaking his mind, and sometimes that wasn’t good.
Travis bristled. “Don’t think that because of your injury I won’t punch you, Ethan.”
“And don’t think that because of my injury I won’t punch you back.”
There was a tense moment, then Travis burst out laughing. “Do you remember when we were kids and we used to fight over really stupid things? You were five years older, but I just knew I could take you.”
Ethan smiled. “Yeah, but you never did.”
Travis sobered. “No,” he admitted. “I have an advantage now, though. The years are on my side.” He playfully poked Ethan in the stomach. “Want to fight, old man?”
Ethan shook his head. “No.”
“Me, neither.” Travis sighed regretfully, then suddenly hugged Ethan. “God, it’s good to see you.”
Ethan hugged him back. “You’d better go to bed before you pass out.” The beer had taken its toll and Travis was slowly going down.
Travis moved away. “I’ll see you in the morning.” In the doorway he paused. “Sure you don’t want my bed?”
“Sure.”
“Night Ethan.”
“Good night, Travis.”
Ethan stared at the sofa with all the clothes and the coffee table with the leftover remnants of a meal. How did Travis live like this? If Molly could see it, she’d have a fit. Or maybe not. Molly wasn’t herself these days; her husband’s betrayal had hit her hard. But Travis could always make her laugh and Ethan hoped that having him home for a weekend would cheer her up.
He shoved the table to one side and dropped the clothes on the floor beside it. He unfolded the bed and saw that it already had sheets. That was good, he supposed. He didn’t even want to think who might’ve slept on them last. He was too tired. He flipped off the light, threw off his jeans and shirt and crawled in. It had been a long day—too long. His hip would probably ache tomorrow, but that was a casualty he’d learned to live with.
As he drifted off to sleep, it wasn’t his hip or his family that was on his mind, it was the redheaded stripper. What was her story? Why was she stripping against her will? She needed help. No. He resolutely turned over. She didn’t need his help. It was none of his business—absolutely none.

THE NEXT MORNING Ethan picked up all the clothes and put them in the washing machine. He cleared away the trash and washed the dishes in the sink. By the time Travis stumbled out of the bedroom, Ethan had the clothes folded and the room as clean as he could get it.
Travis scratched his head and glanced around the apartment with bloodshot eyes. “Damn, Ethan, when did you turn into my mother?”
“There’s no coffee or food here, so I had to do something until you dragged yourself out of bed. Get your clothes on. I’m hungry and I desperately need coffee.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” Travis said with a grin. “I’ll take a quick shower and we’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”
“Hurry.”
In no more than seven minutes, Travis emerged from the bathroom with his wet hair slicked back and dressed for the day. Ethan was surprised at the transformation. He’d have sworn that Travis would have a hangover for the rest of the day. Years ago a hangover was a daily occurrence for Ethan; he quickly shook off the thought.
“Tell you what,” Travis said as he fastened his watch. “I have to check out a job in Fort Worth—make sure the materials I ordered were delivered. We can eat at a café not far from the site.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
Travis slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, brother, I’ll have you there in no time.”
Ethan followed in his truck. He was heading back to Junction Flat as soon as he’d talked to Travis. That was the reason he’d hung around this morning; he had to try once more.
The café was a typical down-home kind of place with red gingham curtains and country music playing on a radio. They sat in a booth and Ethan ordered coffee immediately.
“Thanks for straightening the apartment,” Travis said. “I usually do that on the weekends.”
“Just be glad your sister didn’t see it.”
The waitress brought the coffee and took their order.
“Speaking of Molly…how is she?” Travis asked.
“Not good and neither is Pop,” he said truthfully. “Molly’s depressed and Pop’s worried about her, and it’s getting to him.”
“My being there’s not gonna help.”
“You might be surprised.” Ethan met his eyes.
“Ethan,” Travis groaned, and changed the subject. “How’s Cole handling all this?”
“He’s angry as hell at his father, which is understandable. I’m just glad he and Molly are at the ranch with us. Listen, they’d both like it a lot if you could come for a visit…maybe just a weekend. That’s all I’m asking. A weekend out of your life.”
Their breakfast arrived and Travis didn’t answer. They ate in silence. Finally Travis wiped his mouth. “Okay, I’ll come home next weekend.”
Ethan smiled—he couldn’t help it. “Thanks,” he said. “Why don’t you call Molly and tell her?”
“So she won’t think you pressured me?” Travis grinned.
“Something like…” His voice trailed off as he noticed a woman sitting in a corner by herself. There were papers scattered on the table and she was reading them as she drank coffee. Ethan blinked. It couldn’t be, he told himself. But there she was, the redheaded stripper. Looking a bit different, but it was her, he was sure of it. Her hair was pulled back and clipped in a knot, and she wore a brown business suit. The face was the same, though. He had studied it thoroughly last night and he’d know her anywhere.
“Ethan, what are you staring at?” Travis asked.
“I can’t believe it.”
“What?” Travis turned and followed Ethan’s gaze. “Well, I’ll be damned! It’s her, isn’t it?”
“Turn around and quit staring.”
Travis glanced at Ethan. “I’m going over to say hi.”
“No,” Ethan said. “Her life is her business.”
“You said she was scared and being forced to strip. Well, she doesn’t look too scared now. I’m gonna prove to you how wrong you were.”
Before Ethan could stop him, Travis was out of the booth and marching toward the woman. Ethan slowly followed.
“Howdy,” Travis said, and she raised her head. Ethan recognized the sparkling blue of her eyes, but he saw no fear in them today, just annoyance.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“No, but I know you,” Travis said glibly.
She arched a fine eyebrow. “You do?”
“Yeah, and you look as good with your clothes on as you do with them off.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said in a haughty tone. “If this is a come-on, it’s not working and I wish you’d leave.”
Ethan put his arm around Travis’s shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. He’s forgotten his manners. We’re sorry if we bothered you.”
Travis shook off Ethan’s arm. “Yeah, and to make up for it, when you get off work tonight, I’ll take you out for an early breakfast. How’s that?”
She frowned. “Get off work? What are you talking about?”
Travis placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her. “The strip joint, honey. If you want to keep it a secret, that’s fine with me.”
“A strip joint? You think I work in a strip joint?”
“I know it for a fact,” Travis told her. “And you don’t just work there, you’re the star attraction.”
Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m calling the police.”
Ethan knew when enough was enough. If the woman had a secret, it was hers to keep. He caught Travis by the collar and pulled him away. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I apologize for the intrusion.” He pushed his brother toward the door.
Outside Travis straightened his shirt. “What the hell did you do that for?” he growled. “She may be able to fool you, but she can’t fool me.”
“She has a right to her privacy.”
“You didn’t think so last night. You wanted to rescue her.”
“Something’s different today. I can’t explain it.”
“She’s all prim and proper and…” Travis let out a long breath, his irritation evaporating. “God, she’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Ethan agreed, glancing through the café window. In that instant he made a decision. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“What are you—”
Travis’s words faded as Ethan entered the restaurant. He took out his wallet and removed a business card, then walked over to her table and placed it in front of her. She drew back as if to brace herself.
“My name’s Ethan Ramsey. I’m a private investigator. If you need any help, just give me a call.”
Her eyes caught his. “Contrary to what your brother might think, I am not a stripper. He’s mistaken me for someone else.”
“If you say so.” Ethan knew he should walk away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. She was so sincere—and so different from the woman last night. What was it that pulled him to her? He didn’t know, but he had to do what he’d told Travis—respect her privacy. He tipped his hat. “Good day, ma’am.”
“Mr. Ramsey?” she called, and he turned back.
“Does she really look like me?”
He was taken aback by the question, but he answered truthfully. “A dead ringer.”
“I see,” she murmured, and rose to her feet. “I assure you it wasn’t me.”
“You’ve said that.”
“And you don’t believe me?”
Ethan took a step toward her. “I’m not sure what to believe, but the woman last night hated stripping. I thought she might need some assistance. That’s why I left my card. If you’re not her, just throw it away.” He inclined his head and walked to the door.

SERENA FARRELL stared after the tall man and she noticed that he limped slightly, but it didn’t diminish his aura of strength and capability. Not that she needed either one. A stripper? It was too ludicrous to think about.
As she stuffed papers into her briefcase, she could see him through the window talking to the other man. They were definitely brothers—same brown hair and eyes. Ethan Ramsey was the leaner and taller of the two. His brother also had an attitude, while Ethan seemed compassionate. He had warm eyes, and for some reason he seemed worried about her. There was no need to be. She wasn’t a stripper who required his assistance. She was a teacher and taught art at a local high school. She’d met the father of one of her students here this morning; he worked during the week so she’d arranged to meet him on a Saturday. His son had remarkable artistic skills, but he saw that as being sissy and not macho enough. She’d tried to convince him otherwise, but the father was macho to the core and didn’t like his son sitting around drawing pictures. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t accept his son’s talent and encourage him, but then, dealing with parents was the hardest part of her job.
“Hey, Serena, who was the good-looking guy you were talking to?” Daisy, the waitress, asked.
“Which one?” she countered with a smile. The school where she taught wasn’t far away, and Serena often came in here for coffee. She became acquainted with Daisy and she liked her.
“The Clint Eastwood type with the boots and the hat.”
Serena picked up the card. “Said his name’s Ethan Ramsey. He’s a private investigator.”
“Do you need a private investigator?”
“No. He thought I was someone else.”
“He used a line like that? I didn’t figure he was the type.”
Serena started to tell her about the stripper part, but decided not to. She didn’t want any more rumors to circulate. There were enough already. More than enough.
“You just can’t tell, can you?” she replied as she collected her briefcase and slid the card into her pocket. She’d throw it away later.
Daisy quickly wiped the table. “No, you sure can’t, but he could use that line on me any day of the week. I served him coffee and breakfast, and all he said was thank-you. All the guys go for you.”
“Maybe he noticed the wedding ring on your finger.”
Daisy twisted her hand. “Oh, yeah, forgot about that.”
Serena smiled. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”
“Oh, Serena,” Daisy called before she could leave. “I’m sorry about your grandfather and all.”
The smile left Serena’s face. “Thank you,” she said, and walked out.
As she got into her car, she reflected that everyone was sorry about her grandfather…and all. But it didn’t change a thing.

AS SHE ENTERED THE driveway, Serena saw that all the other cars were gone. Her grandmother’s monthly bridge meeting took place this morning, and Serena was glad it was over. She had to talk to Gran and she couldn’t put it off any longer. Her grandmother had to stop spending money. They were broke; it was that simple. Her grandfather had died three months ago and left them heavily in debt. Her grandmother wasn’t helping by ignoring the problem.
She went in through the kitchen and found the house completely quiet, except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway, which only emphasized the silence. The lady Gran had hired to serve refreshments must have gone. She and Gran had argued about it this morning. They couldn’t afford to pay someone for maid services, but as usual Gran had turned a deaf ear to her pleadings.
As Serena started for the hall, the kitchen phone rang. Startled, she merely stared at it. She hated answering it these days. It always seemed to be a bill collector.
She took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Ms. Farrell, please.”
“This is Ms. Farrell.”
“This is Mr. Wylie from the bank.” Serena knew exactly who it was. She’d heard his voice more than she wanted to during the past three months. “I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday, Ms. Farrell, but this is getting serious. We have to have an installment on your grandfather’s note. We can’t continue to let this go on. If we don’t receive at least a partial payment by the end of the next week, we’ll have to start foreclosure proceedings on the house. Your grandfather put it on the note as collateral. There’ll be a notice in the mail.”
Serena swallowed the painful knot in her throat. “I’m doing the best I can, Mr. Wylie.”
“I know, Ms. Farrell, and I hate to do this. I’m aware of your situation, but my superiors are demanding restitution for this loan.”
Serena glanced outside to the beautiful May day. The sun was shining, the trees were flourishing and the grass was greener than it had been even a week ago. A perfect day in an imperfect world. She recognized that now she’d have to do something that would break her heart.
“I’ll be in next week, Mr. Wylie,” she said.
“Oh, Ms. Farrell,” Mr. Wylie replied, surprise in his voice, “I’m so glad. I’m aware that this house has been in your family for years and I hated to take it away from you.”
Serena couldn’t respond, couldn’t say that without this house, her grandmother would lose all hope, all sense of pleasure in life. What she said was, “I’ll see you at the end of the week,” and hung up the phone.
Serena continued down the hall into the den. Her grandmother, Aurora, was reclining in a chair with a blanket over her feet. At seventy-one, Aurora was regal with a polished Southern charm. She had grown up in Georgia and moved to Texas when she was fifteen. Later, she’d married Henry Farrell. They’d had one daughter, Jasmine, who died shortly after a car accident more than thirty years ago. Jasmine was almost nine months pregnant with Serena at the time, and while both parents had died from their injuries, Serena had been safely delivered. After Jasmine’s death, Henry and Aurora had raised Serena.
They gave her a storybook life. They lived in a lovely home in an affluent neighborhood. Serena attended the best schools. Her life was full and happy, and she’d never wanted for anything. After college she’d returned to Fort Worth and gotten a job teaching. She met Brad and they were making plans to get married when her grandfather passed away.
Her life changed that day. While she was still trying to deal with the grief of losing her grandfather, she discovered he was deeply in debt. That storybook life had been a fiction all along, paid for by loans. She’d never discussed finances with her grandfather, so she was unaware of their money problems. His family had owned a pharmaceutical company, which he’d inherited. The company had evidently been in a financial bind, and her grandfather had taken on private investors. The investors soon bought him out, but her grandfather had maintained a position in the firm with a salary—a salary that did not accommodate their lifestyle. His savings were gone and he’d taken out a second mortgage on the house, as well as a series of loans. His life insurance had paid off some of them, but Serena was still struggling to save their home. She’d never had to worry about money before; now it was all she ever thought about.
Her grandfather had tried to shield Gran and her from everything, letting them live in a fictitious world—a world without dark clouds or storms. He used to say, “I want my girls to have nothing but rainbows.” That wasn’t real, though. Now the real world had surfaced with a vengeance, and Serena wasn’t sure how to cope. But she was trying.
Serena kissed her grandmother’s forehead. Aurora opened her eyes, their blue a little faded. “Oh, darling, you’re home.”
She sat on the stool at Aurora’s feet. “We have to talk.”
“It’s about money, isn’t it,” Aurora said tiredly. “You know I don’t like talking about money.”
“We have to,” Serena insisted. “You have to stop spending so much. We don’t have any money,” she said bluntly. “We barely get by with your social security and my paycheck.”
“I don’t understand how we could be broke. Henry always took care of everything. I never had to worry.”
That was the problem, Serena thought. Henry had borrowed and spent more and more to make sure Aurora and Serena had the life he wanted them to have. Serena had explained this repeatedly to Aurora, but she never fully grasped the situation. And to be truthful, Serena wanted her to have the life she was accustomed to, just like her grandfather had. She found herself weakening. She decided against telling Gran about her conversation with Mr. Wylie, even though she knew she should. Aurora would be so distressed, and Serena was determined to avoid that. Besides, she’d figured out a way to stop the foreclosure.
Serena kissed her forehead again. “We’ll talk later,” she said, and headed for the stairs. She’d do anything for her grandmother. That was why she didn’t understand Brad’s attitude. When they found out about her grandfather’s debt, Brad urged her to file for bankruptcy and put her grandmother in a seniors’ home. Serena was appalled at such a suggestion. She’d been raised to be honest, loyal and dedicated to family. Brad was asking her to do something that went against every belief, every instinct she had. They argued back and forth, and finally Serena broke the engagement. She couldn’t live with a man who was so heartless; it made her wonder how long Brad would have stuck by her if she’d taken ill. Not long, she supposed. She didn’t regret her decision.
All her waking hours and many fretful nights were spent thinking of ways to make money. She used her talent as an artist to get a contract with a local greeting-card company, but it took a long time to receive her payments. She also painted portraits. Children were her specialty and she had a number of commissions lined up, but it still wasn’t enough to meet the bills. They would make it, though, she vowed.
She entered her grandparents’ room and stopped for a moment. There were pictures of her all over. The decor was done in different shades of blue, from deep cobalt to baby blue. The bedspread and drapes were a floral chintz, as were the cushions in various chairs. As a child, she’d called this the blue room, and it was her favorite place. Each morning when she woke up, she’d run across the hall to her grandparents’ room and jump into their bed, snuggling between them. So much love, so much happiness… She choked back a sob. She’d wondered many times how her grandfather could do this to them, how he could hide their financial reality, but she knew he’d done it out of love. And now she’d have to do the same thing.
She crossed to the divan in the small sitting room and picked up her grandmother’s purse. She removed a key and walked to the dresser, where she opened her jewelry box. Among the jewels was a small wooden box. Serena popped the lid and stared at the diamond earrings lying on a bed of velvet. Her grandfather had given them to Aurora on their wedding day. They’d belonged to his mother and someday they’d belong to Serena. Jasmine was supposed to have worn them on her own wedding day, but at eighteen she’d eloped, to the heartbreak of Aurora and Henry, especially since they disapproved of her choice of husband. Jasmine became estranged from her parents soon after that. Then she and her husband were killed, and Aurora and Henry gladly took Serena.
Serena didn’t know much about that time, and she knew nothing about her father. Her grandparents refused to even mention his name. They held him responsible for Jasmine’s death. Serena shook her head. She was getting sidetracked.
She glanced down at the diamonds in her hand, remembering how Grandfather had told her she’d wear them at her wedding and her eyes would sparkle as bright as the diamonds. Well, the wedding was off and the only thing that made her eyes sparkle these days was tears.
She took the diamonds across to her room and slipped them into her purse. She’d hock them and buy a fake set, replacing them so her grandmother wouldn’t know. Her eyesight was getting so bad she wouldn’t see the difference. As long as there were earrings in the box, she’d be satisfied. Gran didn’t wear them, anyway. She always wore the diamonds and pearls Grandfather had given her for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Serena turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror.
Liar, thief, an unfamiliar red-haired woman seemed to say.
She stepped closer to the mirror. Was that her? She had a desperate look about her that she didn’t recognize.
Oh, God, she was stealing from her grandmother, but what else could she do? Losing the diamonds was better than losing their home, she tried telling the woman in the mirror. Then why did she feel like the lowest creature on earth?
She sank onto the bed and refused to let sentiment drag her down. She had to do this for Gran and herself. She’d do anything to keep Aurora happy and comfortable—even lie and steal. No one was making them leave this house, not as long as she had breath in her body. And if she had a hard time looking at herself, she’d sell all the mirrors, too.
She got up and went to fix lunch. In the doorway she paused and rested her forehead against the doorjamb. The weight of all her problems paralyzed her for a moment. Her grandfather had told her that behind every cloud was a rainbow…not that he acknowledged many clouds in his world. Oh, Grandfather, where’s my rainbow? She needed one—desperately. Just one tiny rainbow. And a handsome stranger with a heart of gold wouldn’t hurt, either. Suddenly Ethan Ramsey flashed into her mind and she thought of the stripper who looked like her. He didn’t seem to be a man who would lie. So was there a woman out there who looked like her? She let herself think about it for a moment. Since she didn’t know anything about her father, there could be a cousin who resembled her, someone she’d never heard of.
She pulled Ethan Ramsey’s card from her pocket. He’d said he wanted to help her. It was probably a line, just as she’d told Daisy. What did it matter? She was wasting her time thinking about it; she had enough problems. On her way out the door, she threw the card in the trash.

CHAPTER TWO
DRIVING HOME, Ethan couldn’t get the redhead out of his mind. Was she an expert liar or was something else going on? The woman of the night before was afraid and had a hard edge that suggested she’d been living a rough lifestyle. He recognized that immediately. The woman today was a complete contradiction. She was softer and had a veneer and polish that came with wealth and privilege. If she was stripping against her will, that would account for the fear he’d seen yesterday, but it didn’t explain the hardness. What was the woman’s secret?
As he drove across the cattle guard, dust spiraled behind him. He was home in Junction Flat, Texas, a small ranching community of less than a thousand near San Antonio. There was a saying in Junction Flat: “Don’t let the mesquite, the cactus and the rattlesnakes get to you. Junction Flat is a good place to live.” And it was—this was where Ethan had always gone when things got too hard, and he planned on staying here for the rest of his life.
A few years ago Pop had given the ranch to his three children, with the stipulation that he be able to live on the property until his death. Molly and Travis didn’t have any interest in ranching and sold their shares to Ethan. So the entire ranch now belonged to Ethan, and he was content living out his retirement in his quiet, rustic hometown.
Before he drove around back to the garage, he noticed Bruce’s Mercedes parked in front of the white sandstone house. He frowned, wondering why his ex-brother-in-law was here. Since the divorce, which was finalized two months ago, Bruce and Molly hadn’t spoken, as far as he knew. There was only one reason Bruce would come out here and face everyone—Cole, his seventeen-year-old son.
When he climbed out of his truck and walked toward the house, he heard raised voices. As soon as he entered the kitchen, everyone grew quiet. Pop was holding Molly, who was sobbing into his chest. Cole was screaming at his father, “Get out and leave us alone!” When he saw Ethan, he said, “Make him leave, Uncle Ethan!”
“Son, I just want to talk to you,” Bruce begged.
“I never want to speak to you again.” With that, Cole turned and stormed out the back door.
Ethan took a long breath. Bruce had a right to see his son, but Cole had refused to see or talk to Bruce since he’d found out about his father’s betrayal. His mother’s pain had only increased the boy’s feelings. The situation was volatile and emotions still ran high. It was time for everyone to cool off.
Ethan looked at Bruce. “I think you’d better go,” he said firmly. He walked to the front door and held it open.
Bruce’s features tightened and Ethan could see he was undecided, but at last made a sound of exasperation and headed for the front door. Ethan followed him out onto the long veranda
“Ethan, I want to talk to my son.” Bruce shoved a hand through his blond hair. His eyes were green like Cole’s.
As much as Ethan hated what Bruce had done to Molly, he understood his desire to see Cole. Cole was the innocent victim in Bruce and Molly’s divorce, and neither seemed willing to make it easier for him.
“He just needs some time,” was the only thing Ethan could think of to say.
“Molly’s turned him against me.”
“Don’t lay that at Molly’s feet,” Ethan told him, although he knew it was partly true. “You’re the reason Cole’s upset. He’s old enough to know what’s going on.”
“You’re a man, Ethan. I thought you’d understand.”
Ethan grunted in disgust. “I understand that a twenty-year-old is more attractive than the thirty-five-year-old mother of your child.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Bruce denied.
“Who are you trying to kid?”
“Molly and I were having problems. You knew that. Hell, everyone knew, but Molly chose to ignore them. She wouldn’t listen to me and I got tired of banging my head against that rock-solid pride of hers.”
Ethan had been away during the early years of Bruce and Molly’s marriage, but since he’d settled in Junction Flat five years ago, he’d become aware of the tension between Molly and Bruce. Last year things had intensified, and Molly had stayed at the ranch some nights because she and Bruce had argued. Bruce worked all the time, she complained, while he said Molly was too involved with Cole’s school. Cole was on various sports teams and Molly never missed a game. Bruce attended as many as he could, but he was often out of town. Another issue between them was that Molly volunteered for anything and everything, even though Bruce had asked her not to. Then, when Bruce was home, he liked to go to the club and play golf. Another problem. Molly hated golf. Their spats never lasted long and by the next morning they always made up. Ethan was careful to stay out of their affairs. He did support his sister, though.
“I don’t want to hear this about Molly,” he said in a warning tone.
“Your sister’s not an easy person to live with.”
“Oh, but she was an easy person to support you while you went to law school. Easy for her to do your cooking and laundry and raise your son.”
“I don’t want to get into it with you, Ethan.”
“Then don’t talk as if Molly’s to blame for all this. You made the choice here.”
“Ethan.” Bruce sighed bleakly. “I can’t lose my son. I can’t.”
The pain in Bruce’s voice touched Ethan, even though he didn’t want it to. He understood a man’s love for his son.
“Cole is seventeen. He’s a kid, yet he’s almost a man. Give him some time and space. Don’t pressure him, Bruce. That’s the only advice I can give you.”
“Ethan—”
Ethan held up a hand when he sensed that Bruce was about to tell him things he didn’t want to hear. “Molly is my sister and I’m on her side. What you did was unconscionable and I can’t condone it. You hurt the two people who loved you the most. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”
Bruce’s eyes darkened, then he glanced toward the corral, where Cole was saddling a horse. As Cole swung into the saddle and set off at a gallop for the woods, Bruce nodded and walked to his car.

ETHAN WENT BACK into the house. Pop was sitting on the sofa with his face in his hands.
“Pop, are you okay?” he asked.
Walt Ramsey raised his head. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah. Where’s Molly?”
“In her room. Every time she sees him, she screams and cries and comes apart at the seams. I don’t know who she is when she acts like that, and I don’t know how to help her.”
At the distress in his father’s voice, Ethan sat beside him. “It’ll get better.”
“I don’t know, son. She’s loved him since she was ten years old. She can’t forget all those years of loving.”
Molly and Bruce had met in fifth grade. When Molly graduated from high school, she was pregnant, and she and Bruce had married soon after. Bruce went to college, then law school, and Molly had worked to support them. She had shouldered the financial responsibility for a lot of years, and now that Bruce was a lawyer and making good money, he’d traded her in for a newer model. At least that was the way Molly put it. She’d never suspected he was sleeping with his new receptionist. The whole sordid mess had devastated Molly…and Cole, too.
“We just have to be here for her.”
“I could kill that bastard with my bare hands.”
That was the sentiment of everyone in the Ramsey family, and Ethan found it difficult at times to control his temper with Bruce, but his ethics prevented him from doing anything stupid. Besides, he knew there was always another side, even if he preferred to ignore it. Family was family, after all, and had to come first. Most importantly, Bruce was Cole’s father, and that one fact kept Ethan grounded enough to have a normal conversation with the man.
“Did you see Travis?”
Ethan looked at his father. “How did you guess I went to see Travis?”
“I know you, son, and you’re doing everything you can for Molly.”
“Yeah, but nothing’s working.”
“So is he still playing in bars and honky-tonks?”
Ethan rubbed his hands together. “He’s still playing in a band, if that’s what you’re asking. He has a steady job with a construction company, but he’s never going to give up his music.”
Pop climbed to his feet. “Got that from your mom’s side of the family. They were always playing and singing somewhere, then the worthless lot wanted me to feed ’em.” He shook his head. “A man should make an honest living for his family. Work hard and forget about havin’ a good time.”
Ethan stood up, too, knowing he had to say something that wasn’t easy. “That’s your way, Pop, but Travis has his own way. That doesn’t mean you’re right and he’s wrong. It just means you’re different, and we have to accept that.”
Pop opened his mouth to object and Ethan stopped him. “Travis is coming home next weekend. For Molly’s sake, I want peace in this house. And a little laughing, playing and singing wouldn’t hurt.”
Pop clamped his lips together, then said, “I’d better check on Cole,” and walked out.
“He’s ridden off into the woods,” Ethan called.
“I’ll find him,” Pop muttered. The back door slammed behind him.
Ethan sighed. Did old wounds ever heal? He could only hope so. Well, next weekend would have to be a start. He headed toward Molly’s room, then spotted her in the kitchen.
There were groceries on the table, and she was putting milk and juice in the refrigerator. He was trying to think of the right words to ease her pain, but when it came to his sister, he was never very successful. These days, Molly was like a keg of dynamite just waiting for someone to light the fuse, so unlike the smiling, easygoing woman she’d once been. He had to be very careful.
With her petite frame, short brown hair and brown eyes, Molly looked much younger than her thirty-five years, and it angered him to think of what Bruce had done to her confidence and self-control.
“How are you, sis?” he murmured as he poured a cup of coffee.
Instead of answering, she asked, “Do you know why he came here?”
“To see Cole.” He sat at the table and wrapped his hands around the mug.
“Yeah, that’s the excuse he used, but he really came to tell Cole he and that teenybopper have set a wedding date. They’re having a big wedding and he wants Cole to be in it. Can you imagine? Now I know he’s lost his mind.”
Ethan didn’t comment or he’d explode with the absurdity of it all. He was worried about Molly. Bruce was all she ever talked about, and Ethan realized she was never going to get over his betrayal without a lot of help.
“Sit down,” he said. “I need to talk to you for a sec.”
“Sure.” She grabbed a diet drink out of the refrigerator and opened it. Sitting down, she asked, “Have you heard something about the wedding?”
“No,” he answered, cradling his cup.
“Good,” Molly replied, tapping her fingers on the table. “He’s got some nerve coming out here. It’s one thing hurting me, but it’s another when he hurts Cole like this. Rumors will be flying all over Junction Flat and San Antonio. We’ll never be able to live this down.”
He reached for her hand. “Molly, you have to stop thinking about Bruce and this girl. He’s made his decision. Now you have to get on with your life.”
She stared down at their hands. “I can’t.”
He knew that. She couldn’t let go of seventeen years of marriage and she couldn’t let go of Bruce. But she had to, and she had to understand what all this was doing to her son.
He cleared his throat. “I want to talk about Cole.”
She glanced up. “What about Cole?”
“Can’t you see how miserable he is?”
“Yes.” She smoothed the Coke can with her thumb. “I don’t know how Bruce can do this to him.”
There was silence for a moment, then Ethan said, “You’re hurting him, too.”
Molly’s head jerked up. “What!”
“Right now Cole’s resentment at his father’s betrayal is feeding off your anger and pain. He can’t move beyond that.”
“That’s Bruce’s fault, not mine,” Molly put in quickly.
“So instead of helping Cole deal with this, you’d rather see him torn apart?”
Molly jumped to her feet. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said angrily.
Ethan caught her arm before she could walk away. “Molly, Bruce is Cole’s father. You can’t change that, and you have to realize that Cole’s gonna have a part in his life.”
“No!” Molly shook her head wildly. “I don’t want Cole near that…that woman.”
“Oh, Molly.” Ethan got up and took her in his arms.
“What did I do wrong, Ethan?” she cried. “I tried to be the perfect wife and mother. I was so happy when I could quit work and be at home full-time. I loved the cooking, running the household, entertaining. I had parties for Bruce’s associates, and I made sure our home was a place Bruce and Cole could be proud of, but—”
“Sis, you have to stop looking at the past and start looking toward the future.”
“I wish I could, but I can’t get Bruce and her out of my head. She’s only three years older than Cole and—”
“You’re dwelling on this too much,” Ethan said. The age thing was a big problem for Molly. Bruce falling for a younger woman had somehow reduced her worth as a woman. Her confidence was gone and her personality had changed completely in a few months.
“You’ve always been the rock in our family, and I know you have the strength to survive this,” he said into her hair. “When you found out you were pregnant with Cole, you held up your head and faced everyone. When Mom died, you were the one who kept us all together, even though you were hurting, too. And when I was shot, you helped us all stay sane—including me, and I wasn’t an easy person to deal with at that time.”
She straightened and wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “I can’t seem to stop crying and I don’t even like myself these days.”
“Why don’t you go back to work?” he suggested. She’d been drifting in and out of depression for months, and now was the time to do something about it.
Her face crumpled. “You don’t like having me here?”
“I love it and so does Pop, but you need another interest—something to get your mind off Bruce. And to show Cole that you’re gonna be okay.”
She shrugged. “What would I do? It’s been so long since I’ve worked.”
“You have a friend who’s got a gift shop and another who owns a boutique. Maybe you could help out until you decide what you want to do.”
Molly walked to the sink with a thoughtful expression. She came back with a dishcloth and washed down the table, which it didn’t need. “I’ll think about it,” she finally said.
“Good.” He gave her another hug.
Her arms gripped him so tight he could barely breathe. “What if he marries her, Ethan?”
His heart ached for the sadness in her voice, but she had to face the truth. “Oh, Molly. You have to accept it. It’s going to happen.”
“I know, but—”
“Travis is coming home next Saturday,” he slipped in. He’d wanted Travis to tell her himself, but now he had to use whatever was at his disposal.
She drew back and brushed away a tear. “He is?”
“Yep, so you’d better dry those tears and get a room ready.”
“Oh.” She clapped her hands together. “When’s he coming? I want to fix a big dinner and have the house spic and span. I hope he brings his guitar, because I want to hear his songs. Oh, Ethan, this will be fun! Thank you.”
“What did I do?”
“You made him come home. I know you did, but I don’t care. It’ll be so good to see him. I’ll fix his favorite—chicken and dressing. It won’t be like Mom’s, but I’ll box his ears if he says anything.”
The transformation in Molly was amazing, and that was because she was thinking about something besides Bruce and his new love. He should’ve done this sooner. Molly had to learn that there was life after Bruce.

SERENA AWOKE with a start. She sat up, shook back her hair and turned on the lamp. She’d been dreaming and it was so real. There was a stage and she was standing on it, taking off her clothes. Men were yelling at her, but she continued to undress under their leers and whistles. Her skin still crawled with revulsion and she quickly checked—yes, she had her nightgown on. She wasn’t naked.
“I am not a stripper,” she said out loud. “It’s isn’t me.” Then why did it feel like her? Damn Ethan Ramsey for putting the idea into her head! “I am not a stripper,” she said again, and settled back in bed, trying to calm down. But it wasn’t easy. The feeling of disgust wouldn’t go away.
Her usual worry was about money. Now she was also troubled by the thought that there might be a woman who looked like her. A woman who apparently lived nearby—and worked as a stripper. She couldn’t get it out of her head. She studied the picture on her nightstand—a picture of Jasmine. She had red hair and blue eyes, as did Gran. It was a trait in their family, although Gran’s hair had gone completely white. The woman in the picture did look like Serena. Her hair was brighter and her face slimmer, but they definitely resembled each other.
If the stripper was a “dead ringer” for Serena, there had to be some kind of family connection. But what? Deciding to talk to her grandmother, she got up and went into Aurora’s room. Aurora was sitting in a lounge chair drinking coffee.
“Morning, Gran.” Serena kissed her, then sat cross-legged on the bed.
“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”
No, she’d had horrible dreams she wanted to forget, but she replied, “Yes, thank you.”
She wondered how to bring up the subject of her mother. They never talked about Jasmine, and there were no pictures of her in Aurora’s bedroom or anywhere else in the house. Serena had found the photo she had in her own room tucked away in a drawer.
“What was my father’s name?” She thought that was a good place to start.
“What?” Gran frowned at her.
“I don’t even know his name. My name’s Farrell because you and Grandfather put it on my birth certificate for obvious reasons. His name had to be something else.”
She supposed she could have researched this easily enough, but she’d never felt the need before; especially while her grandfather was still alive. And her grandparents’ feelings about her father were all too evident.
“He’s dead and it’s best to leave him there,” Aurora said in a hard tone, but it didn’t stop Serena. Ethan Ramsey had opened a door in her mind, and all she could see were empty places.
“No, Gran,” she said, her voice just as hard. “I want you to tell me about him—all the bad stuff. I need to know.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s my father.”
“That’s doesn’t mean a thing.”
Serena was taken aback by her grandmother’s attitude. She’d known since she was small that her grandparents hated her father. It was one of the reasons she never asked about him, but now she had to have some answers.
“It does to me,” she replied stubbornly.
Aurora took a quick breath. “His name was John Welch. Jasmine called him Johnnie. He worked as a mechanic. What attracted Jasmine to him I don’t know. She was raised to be a lady, not to live in a one-room apartment above a garage. Henry and I laid down the law and forbade her to see him again, but she ran off to be with him. It almost killed us.”
Serena knew this part of the story. It sounded almost rehearsed. She wanted more.
“Where is John Welch’s family?”
Aurora shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“Gran!”
“All right.” Aurora patted her white hair. “He lived with someone in a trailer park. After he was killed, they moved away. That’s the only family I knew about.”
“So my father doesn’t have any relatives around here?”
Aurora eyed her strangely. “Why all the questions, Serena?”
“Someone said he saw a woman who looked like me in Dallas, and it got me thinking.”
“Looks like you,” Aurora laughed nervously. “That’s ridiculous. No one’s as beautiful as you. I thought your mother was beautiful, but you’ve eclipsed her in every way.”
Something in Aurora’s voice alerted Serena. “You have forgiven her, haven’t you, Gran?”
“Forgive? I’m not sure. A mother never gets over that kind of pain.” Her hand shook as she took a sip of coffee.
“Oh, Gran.” Serena rushed over and hugged her. “Jasmine gave me to you. You wouldn’t have raised me if you hadn’t loved her deeply.”
Aurora touched her cheek. “Yes, you’re the one good thing that came out of the tragedy.”
Serena sat on the edge of the chair. “I wish I knew more about my father.”
“He’s not worth knowing. Forget about him.”
Serena frowned. She’d never heard her grandmother talk with such vehemence, and it rattled her. Was there something Gran wasn’t telling her?

THE DREAMS CONTINUED. She was stripping in front of men, but now Ethan was in the dream watching her with an I knew it expression on his face. She couldn’t shake the dream and it was beginning to wear her down. She couldn’t let that happen; there were too many other concerns that needed her attention.
She went to a jeweler to have the earrings appraised before hocking them—and discovered that they were worth far more than she’d ever imagined. The jeweler said the shape of the diamond was very rare, as was the box they were in. He showed her the markings on the bottom of the box and explained their significance. The information made her decision that much more difficult, but she kept reminding herself that she didn’t have a choice. The jeweler made her an offer, and she accepted on condition that he’d hold the earrings for thirty days before selling them. Why, she had no idea. She just wanted an option left open to her. The jeweler also agreed to make a cheap fake pair and a similar box. He said she could pick them up in a couple of days. As she hurried out of the store, she felt as if she’d thrown away part of her heritage. But it was only a thing, she kept telling herself.
The next day she went to the bank and made the payment. Mr. Wylie was surprised but pleased, and she could see he was curious about where she’d gotten the money. She didn’t tell him it came from the past—a past she’d probably never see again. But right now, her only feeling was relief that she wouldn’t have to worry about another payment for three months.

THAT NIGHT Serena fought sleep. She couldn’t tolerate another one of those nights. She had to teach in the morning. She groaned at the prospect, almost giving in to a wave of exhaustion. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about the other woman? Maybe because she felt Gran wasn’t telling her the whole story about her father. But what did it matter? Serena got her features from her mother’s side of the family. Her father’s family had nothing to do with that. Still…she’d like to know something about them.
Ethan Ramsey could help her. No, no, she was taking this too far. Gran wouldn’t lie to her. But…she flipped on the light and went over to the trash can. His business card was still inside. She retrieved it and placed it on her nightstand. Now what? Ethan could find out about the other woman; that was the only way she was going to have any peace. Private investigators cost money, though, and she wondered how much he charged. Since she was struggling to stay afloat, hiring him was crazy to even contemplate. Absolutely crazy. She opened the drawer and dropped the card in. She had to pull herself together and stop thinking about the stripper…and Ethan Ramsey.

THINGS WERE CHANGING around the Ramsey house. Molly cleaned and cooked all week, getting ready for Travis’s homecoming. Ethan even heard her singing a few times, and it did his heart good. Bruce had called Cole and Cole had talked to him, in one-word answers, but it was a start. Even though Molly was still hurting, at least she was making an effort to control her reactions. She didn’t say anything when Bruce called, and that was a big improvement. She didn’t even ask Cole what Bruce wanted, which Ethan considered the biggest step of all. She was letting Cole form his own opinions of his father.
Ethan was busy on the ranch, baling hay, fixing fence and clearing brush to rid his pasture of mesquite. It was a never-ending job. He’d bought a spirited horse that needed breaking. Cole was eager for the job, and Ethan figured it was a way for him to get rid of some of the tension he was carrying around. So Saturday morning, Ethan let him try his hand.
He held the horse while his nephew climbed on, then he ran to the fence as the horse started to buck. “Ride ’em, boy. Ride ’em…”
His voice stilled when the horse managed to send Cole flying through the air. The boy hit the ground, spitting out dirt, then rolled onto his back. “What am I doing wrong, Uncle Ethan?”
Ethan shook his head. “You’re not concentrating,” he said from his perch on the fence.
Cole got to his feet and dusted off his jeans. “I’ve concentrated so hard my head’s about to explode.”
“Want to try again?” Pop called, capturing the animal’s reins.
Cole didn’t answer as he stared off toward the road.
Ethan followed his gaze. A truck was coming, stirring up dust like a thundercloud.
Pop put the horse in the bigger corral and walked over to Ethan. Cole followed. “It’s Uncle Travis, isn’t it?” Cole asked excitedly.
Ethan squinted against the morning sun. “Yep, sure looks like it.”
“Yea doggie!” Cole shouted, then leaped over the fence and ran for the house.
Ethan jumped to the ground and winced as pain shot up his leg. Damn, he hated that weakness. But the pain in his hip was his own battle and he dealt with it privately, without complaining, without excuses.
Pop headed for his horse, tethered to the fence. “Think I’ll check on those heifers in the north pasture.”
“Pop,” Ethan called.
His father turned to look at him.
“Thought you were going to make an effort—for Molly.”
“Son—”
“Let’s go, Pop. It’s time to say hello to your youngest son.”
When they reached the house, Travis and Cole were horsing around, throwing punches at each other. With an arm around Cole, Travis said, “Hi, Ethan. Pop.”
“Son,” Pop replied in a solemn voice. “You finally found your way home.”
Ethan took a long breath and embraced Travis, not wanting to give Pop any opportunity to get more zingers in. Pop’s attitude did not bode well for the weekend.
“Good to have you here,” Ethan said as the front door flew open and Molly burst out.
“Travis, Travis!” she cried, and ran into his arms. He swung her round and round until all they heard was the sound of laughter.
Finally Travis set her on her feet. “You’ll never believe what I have cooking in the house!” Molly paused to catch her breath. “Chicken and dressing and apple pie,” she said before Travis could speak.
Travis looped an arm around her waist as they made their way into the house. “You always were my favorite sister.”
“I’m your only sister.” Molly giggled, and Ethan knew he’d done the right thing in asking Travis to come home. He wished Pop could see that.
The day went relatively well, considering Pop’s uncommunicative mood and somber expression. That evening they sat on the front porch, and Travis played his guitar and sang. Molly joined in and Ethan and Cole clapped along. After that, they started on the gospel songs their mother used to sing. Ethan noticed that Pop was getting teary-eyed.
Suddenly Pop said, “You both got your talent from your mother. She sang like a bird.”
An unwelcome tension followed.
Travis cleared his throat. “Thanks, Pop.” And Molly nodded.
“I was so mad at her brother Charlie for buying you that guitar when you were twelve.”
Silence again.
“Later I found out that Marie had given him the money to buy it. It was the only thing she ever kept from me.” He slowly shook his head. “She knew I wouldn’t like it.”
Travis looked to Ethan for guidance, but Ethan didn’t respond. If Pop had something to say, he needed to say it.
“I still don’t like it,” Pop went on. “But Ethan says you have a right to live your life the way you want. He’s right, because when I hear you sing, I hear your mama and…” He stopped as his voice cracked. He got to his feet. “Think I’ll turn in.”
Molly threw her arms around him, and they exchanged a long hug. Then Pop looked at Travis. “Glad you’re home, son,” he mumbled, and walked into the house.
Ethan heaved a sigh of relief. Finally they were talking like a family. Now maybe the hurt could begin to heal.

THEY WERE STILL talking outside when the phone rang. Cole jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
Ethan wondered if Cole was hoping it would be his father. A minute later, he was back. “It’s for you, Uncle Ethan. A woman.”
“A woman?” Travis raised an eyebrow. “This is interesting.” He grinned at Cole. “Did she sound young and attractive?”
Cole shrugged. “She sounded nice.”
“Nice and needs assistance from a P.I. is my guess,” Travis stated.
Ethan stood. “It could be something entirely different.”
“Yeah, right.” Travis said with a laugh.
Ethan shook his head as the laughter followed him into the house.
He picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Mr. Ethan Ramsey?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Serena Farrell. We met a week ago in a café in Fort Worth. You thought I was a…stripper. Do you remember?”
Ethan sat down on the sofa. The redhead was the last person he’d expected to call. That could only mean one thing. She needed his services, just as Travis had predicted.
“Yes, I remember. What can I do for you, Ms. Farrell?”
Silence.
“Ms. Farrell?”
“I’m not sure how to say this.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. Sometimes we all do stupid things.”
“I am not a stripper,” she said hotly.
“Okay, then, why are you calling me?”
“I want to know who the other woman is.”
“I see,” he said, but he didn’t, so he decided to let her do the talking.
“Do you think you can find her?” she asked after a brief pause.
“That shouldn’t be too hard.”
“How…how much do you charge?”
Ethan told her and she asked, “Do you think you can locate her in two days?”
Ethan knew where the woman worked, so the job would be easy, but he wasn’t sure why Serena Farrell needed to find her. Was she telling the truth about her own identity? Could there actually be two of them? His curiosity was piqued, and he wanted to find out.
“I think so,” he said slowly. “Can you explain what this is all about?”
“If she looks like me, we have to be related in some way. I want to know how.”
Ethan accepted that, but he felt there were a lot of blanks that needed filling in. “Okay, I’ll come to Fort Worth and we’ll take it from there.”
“I can’t do it next week. I’m a schoolteacher and it’s the last week of school, but the week after should be fine.”
“I work alone, Ms. Farrell.”
“Please, Mr. Ramsey, this is very important to me.”
Something in her voice got to him. “Give me your number.”
When she’d rattled off her phone number, she said, “Thanks, Mr. Ramsey. I know you think I’m lying, but I’m not.”
“I’m a private investigator and I try not to judge people. If you want this woman found, then I’ll find her. I’ll call in a week.”
Ethan hung up and stared at the phone. The plot thickens. Now he’d discover whether or not there were two women, and he didn’t mind getting to know Ms. Serena Farrell in the process. She was either the best actress he’d ever met or a woman who genuinely needed his help. Either way, he was looking forward to the experience.

SERENA SAT until her heart stopped pounding. She’d done it. She’d called. Now she’d know. She picked up her mother’s picture from the bed. They looked so much alike. Very few people had exactly that hair color together with the fair complexion. For the past few days, she’d had an awful thought, as a result of Gran’s reaction to her questions. Maybe Jasmine wasn’t dead. What if Aurora and Henry had disowned her and pretended she was dead? If her mother was alive and had another daughter—could that possibly be true? Yes, she told herself, because Gran wasn’t telling her the whole story. She’d have to find out on her own—with Ethan Ramsey’s help.

CHAPTER THREE
THE REST OF THE WEEKEND went smoothly, Ethan thought. Travis and Molly laughed and talked and sang, and they had their heads together most of the time. They were only three years apart in age and had always been close. Pop managed to keep his opinions to himself, but by Sunday afternoon Ethan knew something was afoot. Molly was too excited. Then she dropped her bombshell: she was returning to Dallas with Travis and singing in the club with him. Travis had cleared it with the owner. When Pop heard the news, he stomped off to the kitchen.
Molly appealed to Ethan. “Talk to him. I have to get away.”
Ethan knew she did, but singing in a nightclub staggered him, too. His sister was more the domestic type.
Travis spoke up. “C’mon, Ethan. I’ll look out for her.”
“What about Cole?” Ethan said the only thing that made sense to him.
“We’ve already talked,” Molly said. “Travis offered to get him a job with his construction company, but he wants to spend his last summer before college here on the ranch with you and Pop.”
Ethan was still at a loss for words. Molly didn’t need his permission, but she seemed to need his approval.
“You wanted me to get a job,” she reminded him. “That’s what I’m doing. I just can’t stay here with Bruce getting married.” Her voice wavered slightly.
Ethan put his arm around her. Molly had never been on her own. She’d gone from her parents’ house to Bruce’s, and needed to experience life as a single woman. He understood that. “Just take care of yourself and I’ll take care of Cole.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thanks. This will give Cole a chance to forge a new relationship with his father. You’re right, my pain has had a bad effect on Cole. I don’t want him to be bitter, and as much as Bruce has hurt me, he was always a good father to Cole. That’s not easy for me to admit, but I have to go forward, as you said, and I’m trying to do that. I still have a lot of emotions to get through. This time away from everything will help me.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “But what about Pop?”
“Go tell him what you just told me.” Ethan knew she wanted him to explain, but if Molly was going to make her own choices, she had to defend them.
When she left, Travis said, “I think this is what’s best for Molly right now.”
“Oddly, I do, too,” Ethan replied. “She has to find a life without Bruce. Singing in a club, though. That takes some getting used to.”
“It’s just something fun to do until she gets her bearings.”
“I suppose,” Ethan admitted. “I’ll be in Fort Worth the week after next, and I’ll drop by and catch the show.”
Travis’s eyes narrowed. “What will you be doing in Fort Worth?”
“A case.”
“And you’re not talking about it.”
“Nope.” He didn’t talk about his cases and he definitely didn’t want Travis to know he was working for the redhead. There’d be too many questions and he didn’t have any answers.
Later that evening they waved goodbye to Molly and Travis. After Molly had talked to Pop, he seemed resigned to the situation. They all were, because they realized Molly was taking the first step in changing her life.

ETHAN DID a background check on Serena Farrell. He wanted to find out as much as he could. She was a schoolteacher, as she’d said. He would never have guessed that. She seemed more the executive type. Everything else was pretty much as he’d expected. She came from a wealthy family and lived in an affluent neighborhood. Polished and sophisticated—exactly as she appeared. She was unmarried and lived with her grandmother. That was a surprise, but then, he had a feeling there were going to be lots of surprises with Serena Farrell.
He called her and they made plans to get together on Saturday of the following week at the café where they’d first met. He didn’t have to see her, he could get most of what he needed on the phone. But he had an urge to spend some time with her. Try to figure her out. Maybe get another read on the situation.
Ethan left Pop and Cole to their own devices, but he knew what they’d be doing. Cole was smitten with the Dawson girl, and after they finished work for the day, he’d drive over to her house. Pop would be playing dominoes with his buddies. He promised them both that he’d check in on Molly.
He arrived at the café early and sat watching the door—a habit that sometimes proved valuable. He saw her through the window. Her red hair was coiled at the nape of her neck. As he watched, she removed her sunglasses and put them in her purse. She wore a cream pantsuit that enhanced the red of her hair. When she entered the café and glanced around, he immediately got to his feet. She came toward him, and Ethan realized again how beautiful she was. She moved with a grace that had several men turning their heads. All of a sudden the stripper’s almost-nude body flashed in his mind and he knew exactly what lay beneath the pantsuit. The vision startled him, but his body reacted instinctively—in a way it hadn’t responded the night he’d seen the stripper. Damn, he was too old for this. Or did men ever get too old to respond? Especially when they were two feet away from a woman like Serena Farrell.
She offered her hand and he shook it. Her skin felt just as soft and smooth as it looked. A delicate fragrance drifted to his nostrils.
“I’m glad you came, Mr. Ramsey,” she said as she sat down.
“Please call me Ethan,” he invited as he resumed his seat.
“And please call me Serena.”
“Well, Serena,” Ethan said, “you mentioned on the phone that you want me to find the stripper.”
“Yes.” She set her purse on the table, then glanced at his face. “You sounded surprised when I called you, but I have my reasons.”
“Do you mind sharing them with me?”
She shifted slightly in her chair. “Can I see some sort of identification?” She didn’t know Ethan Ramsey and she thought it best to get some facts about him first. He had one of those faces that suggested real strength of character and she’d love to paint him, but she couldn’t let feminine instincts overrule common sense. She didn’t need another mistake in her life.
Ethan pulled out his wallet and PI badge and laid them on the table in front of her. He admired her astuteness. She should learn something about him.
“After high school I joined the army,” he told her. “I got into intelligence work and liked it. After my tour of duty, I joined the FBI and was a member of a covert intelligence team. I traveled all over the world, but the time away became hard on my wife. When our son was born, I asked to be reassigned. My request was granted, and I became a special agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. I was there until I was shot in the line of duty. Now I’m a private investigator. Does that answer your questions?”
“Yes,” she answered slowly. He was married. She didn’t understand why that bothered her. Of course he wasn’t single. A man like Ethan Ramsey was hard to find—reliable, honest and straightforward. It wasn’t something she really knew about him because they’d only just met, but it was something she instinctively felt. She’d sensed it that day his brother had confronted her about the stripper. In Ethan’s eyes there was no judgment—just a desire to help. Studying him from beneath her lashes, she wondered where he’d been shot. It must have been in the leg. She wouldn’t mention his limp; she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.
He picked up his I.D. from the table. “So why do you want me to find the stripper?”
Daisy came to take their order, and they both asked for coffee. After she’d left, Serena said, “It’s a long story, so I’ll try to make it short. My parents died the day I was born. My mother had the same red hair and blue eyes as I do, and so does my maternal grandmother. It’s a family trait. So when you said the stripper looked like me, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I have to know who she is.”
“Have you asked your grandmother?” he inquired, watching her face and trying to gauge her sincerity. So far he couldn’t detect anything off. She was as sincere as they came.
“Yes, and she says it’s ridiculous. That no one looks like me.”
“But you have your doubts.”
She waited until Daisy had placed coffee in front of them and walked away. “Yes.” She touched the warm cup, then added milk and stirred it. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? The woman does resemble me? I mean, this isn’t a come-on or something? That’s why I asked about your credentials. I have to be sure.” What was she saying? Serena chastised herself. The man was married, but the words seemed to emerge of their own volition. In truth she didn’t believe for a second that he was coming on to her.
“That happens a lot?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. “Guys coming on to you?” He startled himself with his response. For one thing, she was beautiful; of course guys came on to her. For another, this wasn’t his normal interview. He didn’t get personal.
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
He noticed a tinge of pink in her cheeks. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “This isn’t a line. Like I told you before, the woman is a dead ringer for you.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Then please find out who she is.”
Her heartfelt words moved him, but something didn’t seem quite right. Why didn’t she ask where the stripper worked? She could easily find the woman herself, but then, strip clubs probably weren’t to her taste. Still… He had to put his suspicions aside. For once he was anxious to see how a case turned out. If there were two of Serena Farrell, he wanted to see them both.
He got to his feet and picked up his Stetson. “I’ll call when I have any information.”
She grabbed her purse. “Shouldn’t I pay you? You said you take a retainer.”
“We’ll settle up when I find the stripper.” Why did he say that? He always took a retainer unless he knew the client, but nothing about this case was going according to form.
She stood. “Mr. Ramsey…I mean, Ethan.” She smiled as she said his name and he felt a moment of exhilaration. “I can only afford two days.”
“I’ll try to get it done in that length of time,” he replied, placing his hat on his head. “Good day.”
Outside in his truck, Ethan took a long breath. What was wrong with him? He was acting like Cole—like a teenage boy—and he’d left those feelings behind many years ago. Serena Farrell was just another client, he told himself, but it was good to know that a beautiful woman could still move him. He wondered why the lookalike stripper didn’t have that effect on him, which only triggered more confusion. Were Serena and the stripper the same person? Did he believe Serena’s story? He honestly didn’t have an answer, but he would find out—and soon.

DAISY GATHERED the coffee cups. “So you’re seeing the cowboy again?”
Serena slung her purse over her shoulder. “What can I say? I like the tall, lanky Texas look.”
“It’s about time.” Daisy laughed. “Ever since you and that fiancé broke up, I’ve seen guys fall all over themselves to talk to you, but you haven’t been interested.”
“It’s hard to know who to trust these days.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Men can be pigs.”
“I feel I can trust Ethan.”
“Yeah,” Daisy agreed. “He has that look about him.”
“See you later,” Serena called as she left. She climbed into her car, certain her instincts were right. She could trust Ethan Ramsey. And now she’d be able to get a good night’s sleep.

ETHAN DROVE into Dallas and checked into a motel. He showered and changed, thinking this was probably the most bizarre case he’d ever taken. And it all had to do with Serena. In a short space of time, she’d lodged herself deep in his mind. He usually managed to keep a barrier between himself and a client, keep his emotions un-involved. Not that his emotions were involved—he’d make sure of that—but he was thinking about her too much. He’d visit the club tonight and find out about the stripper, and his connection with Serena would be over. Then he’d go back to his ranch and his problems and life as it was.
He scooped up his hat and headed for the door. He planned on having supper at the club where Travis and Molly were singing. They were performing several nights a week. After that, he’d go to the strip joint.
He asked for a table at the back of the club because he didn’t want to make Molly nervous. There was a small dance floor, but most of the people were eating as a trio played softly. Shortly after he’d ordered—steak and baked potato—a man stepped up to the microphone and introduced Travis and Molly. Travis came out carrying his guitar, with Molly beside him—a Molly he hardly recognized. He blinked several times. She had on a short glittery dress with tiny straps that barely concealed her breasts. Her straight dark hair was in a windswept style and her face was heavily made up.
Travis started to sing and strum his guitar, and Molly joined him. Their voices flowed together in sweet harmony and for a moment Ethan forgot about Molly’s shocking new appearance. He sat back and enjoyed the show.
They were on for thirty minutes, then took a break. Molly hurried over to his table and held out her hand. “Let me introduce myself,” she said, smiling. “I’m Molly Crawford.”
He stood and took her hand and pulled her into his arms for a hug. “I know who you are,” he muttered. “But in that get-up…”
She drew back and twirled around. “Don’t you like the new me?”
People were jostling to get by, so they sat down. “It’s…different.” But her eyes were sparkling and she was obviously happy. He hadn’t seen her like this in a long time.
“Oh, Ethan, I’m having so much fun.”
He could see that, too.
“I feel young and attractive again. A few guys have even hit on me.”
“In that dress, I can imagine.”
“Isn’t it something? The owner picked it out for me. I wish Bruce could…”
Her whole demeanor changed as she said her ex-husband’s name. Her smile disappeared, as did the light in her eyes.
She brushed at her hair with her hand. “I wish I could stop thinking about him.” She took in a deep breath. “When does the pain go away?”
“I think that’s up to you.”
“Is it?”
“Sure, and you’ve made a great start. Getting away is exactly what you needed.”
“What about you, Ethan?”
He was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve been divorced for ten years now, yet you haven’t even begun to live again.”
He frowned. “Where’s this coming from?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately—without feeling sorry for myself,” she added. “I’m going to survive this and have a better life. I’ve made up my mind. But you, Ethan, I don’t think you’ve gotten over your divorce or Ryan’s—”
“That’s enough,” Ethan interrupted sternly.
“No, it isn’t,” Molly went on. “You’ve spent the last few years taking care of me, Travis and Pop. But who takes care of you? Who listens to your problems?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “When I was shot, you and Pop did a damn good job of it. You almost smothered me, and you know I don’t like that. I can take care of myself.”
“But you need a woman in your life—someone special.”
“I still don’t understand where all this is coming from,” he said. “I thought you were off love and marriage and all that.”
“I was, but I’ve met someone who’s making me see things differently.”
Ethan was dumbstruck. She’d been here two weeks and had already met someone? This wasn’t like Molly. She was deeply in love with Bruce, and she couldn’t turn her feelings off this quickly. So who was the new man?
Travis tapped him on the back. “Hey, big brother.”
Ethan stood and hugged Travis. A tall, suave-looking man stood beside Travis.
“Ethan, this is Rudy Boyd, owner of the club, and Rudy, this is Ethan, our older brother.” Travis made the introductions.
Ethan shook the man’s hand and instantly disliked him. He had black hair and dark eyes, and he looked somehow familiar. Where had he seen him before? When Rudy Boyd put his arm around Molly, his dislike grew.
“Your sister’s bringing in the customers,” Rudy said. “I’m trying to talk her into staying on. She brightens up the place.”
Molly smiled at Rudy with an infatuated expression and Ethan groaned inwardly. This was the man who made her feel attractive again. Couldn’t she see he was a slimeball? That was what Ethan had immediately labeled him, although he hoped his instincts were wrong.
“Rudy, you’re the sweetest man,” Molly gushed, and Ethan wanted to drag her out of here and take her home. He’d begun to believe she’d put her life together again, but now he had a feeling she was sinking into something worse.
“Time to get back on stage,” Travis said.
“Are you gonna stay?” Molly asked Ethan.
“No, I’ve got some work to do.”
“Okay, see you later,” Molly called as she and Travis walked off.
“Your sister’s very special,” Rudy remarked.
“And vulnerable,” Ethan murmured with a hidden warning.
The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Rudy said, “Well, nice meeting you, Ethan. Come back soon. I’m sure your sister would enjoy that.”
“I will,” Ethan replied with forced politeness. Rudy strolled away and Ethan continued to watch him. Where had he seen that smug face before? It would drive him crazy until he figured it out, but right now he had a job to do. He headed for his truck and the strip club.

THE PLACE was the same as it had been a couple of weeks ago—dark, sleazy and packed with men. He sat down and ordered a beer just as the lights above the stage came on. The club had several cages suspended from the ceiling, and partially dressed girls were dancing in them. But now the main attraction was starting. The men gathered close to the stage—actually more of a runway. Some of them were college students and some were in their sixties and seventies, but most of the men were about his age—and looking for something to spice up their lives.
Girl after girl came onto the runway, each taking off her clothes seductively, tantalizing the men, who threw money recklessly onto the stage and tried to grab them, but the girls always escaped.
The scene was becoming monotonous and Ethan’s hip began to ache, but he had to wait for the redhead. That was why he’d come to this tawdry place. A scantily clad waitress arrived at his table, asking if he wanted another beer. He hadn’t touched the first one, nor did he plan to; he’d ordered it just to show that he could resist the stuff. He didn’t understand why he had to do that, but he did.
He shook his head. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, cowboy.”
“There was a redheaded stripper here a couple of weeks ago. Is she a regular?”
“Yeah.”
“Is she stripping tonight?”
“No, she used the old sick line.”
“Will she be here tomorrow night?”
“I’m not her keeper,” the waitress snapped. “Do you want a beer or not?”
Ethan stood and laid some bills on the table. “No, but thanks.” He picked up his hat and walked out.
Well, well, the old sick line. What was Serena Farrell up to? That was his thought as he went back to his motel room. But if Serena and the stripper were one and the same, why would Serena bother to hire him? It didn’t make sense, and he decided to dismiss the possibility. He tended to believe her; he generally trusted his impressions of people, and he had a feeling she wasn’t lying. So he just had to talk to the stripper and then everything would fall into place.
He was exhausted when he entered his room. Again, he told himself he was too old to keep these late hours. Sitting on the bed, he lifted his leg to remove his boot and was reminded of his weakness as pain shot through his hip and up his back. He jerked off the boot and threw it against the wall.
“Goddammit,” he cursed, not at his injury but at everything crowding in on him. He squeezed his eyes shut to block the vision in his head, but to no avail. His son’s laughing mischievous face was there for a brief paralyzing moment and he was caught in a vortex of that pain. Why did Molly have to say Ryan’s name? She wanted him to talk, but he didn’t need to talk. He had dealt with his son’s death in the only way he could, just like he’d dealt with his hip injury. By himself. In private.
He stood and removed his clothes. Pulling the covers back, he crawled into bed, but his hip wouldn’t let up and he couldn’t get comfortable. He’d been given pills for the pain, but he’d seen all too often what drugs—including prescription painkillers, which were readily available and sometimes addictive—could do to people. He never took them unless he had no other option. He forced himself to keep the memories at bay. He couldn’t think about Ryan. He shifted his thoughts to Molly and hoped she wasn’t messing up her life with Rudy Boyd. He’d check out Mr. Boyd just as soon as he could.
He moved onto his side and brought his knee up to take the pressure off his hip. That helped; the pain eased. Molly said he needed someone in his life, but he didn’t. He’d tried and it hadn’t worked. He was too much of a loner and he didn’t share easily, and women needed men to share—especially when it came to emotions. That part of him was sealed away so tight it would never surface again, and he was satisfied with that. Or was he fooling himself? He stayed on the ranch until he became restless, then he took cases to chase away the demons that brought on those restless spells. And a woman wouldn’t like that. His past was another casualty he had to live with.
As sleep drew near, Serena’s face flashed in his mind. She was a woman who could ease a man’s aches and pains—but not his.

CHAPTER FOUR
ONCE AGAIN Serena didn’t sleep well. She kept wondering if Ethan had found the stripper. What was her name? Did she and this other woman have a connection? She was up early hoping Ethan would call, but he didn’t. Gran had her bridge ladies over, so Serena worked in the study. She had several greeting cards to finish, and in the afternoon she was planning to work on a child’s portrait. She’d already met the five-year-old girl, whose mother had brought lots of photos. That would be her routine for the summer, trying to supplement their income. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up or what she was going to do when the money from the earrings ran out. And she still had to pay Ethan Ramsey. Again she questioned her decision in hiring him. She could definitely use the money for other necessities—like electricity and food. But for some reason, she just couldn’t get the other woman out of her mind.
When she heard the cars leaving, she went into the den to talk to her grandmother.
“Are you tired, Gran?” she asked. Aurora sat in a large wing chair, eyes closed and feet propped up.
“A little.”
“I’d like to talk about my mother.”
Aurora’s eyes flew open and she sighed. “Serena, I don’t understand why you keep bringing this up.”
“Because it’s important to me. I’d like to know more about my parents.”
“I’ve told you all you need to know,” Aurora said in a sharp tone.
“I’m not ten years old, Gran,” Serena replied just as sharply. “And I don’t appreciate it when you treat me that way.”
“Oh, darling, don’t get upset with me,” Gran pleaded. “I just don’t like talking about them.”
“Why?” Serena wanted to know. “Jasmine was your only child, yet there are no pictures of her in this house. It’s like she never existed.”
Aurora’s lips tightened. “She broke my heart when she chose that man over me and your grandfather. I had all her things put in the attic. I didn’t want any reminders.”
Serena swallowed hard. “Why, Gran? Why do you hate my father so much?”
“He wasn’t a nice person,” came the clipped answer. “And I raised Jasmine with high standards. Standards that he flouted.”
“What do you mean?”
“He took Jasmine from me out of spite.”
Serena’s eyes narrowed. Gran was talking as if she knew John Welch very well. She remembered the other conversations she’d had with her grandmother, and something here didn’t ring true. “You said you didn’t know anything about John Welch, yet—”
Gran cut in. “I just get angry when I think about that man and what he did to my family.” Gran fingered the pearls around her neck with a nervous hand. “It’s so long ago now and I’m tired of talking about them.”
Gran was lying. Serena got to her feet, knowing it was useless to talk to her; Gran wasn’t going to let go of years of resentment and bitterness. Still, Serena wanted to find out why. As she went back to the study, she kept thinking that maybe her mother was alive. Oh, God, could her mother be alive? The ringing of the phone stopped her thoughts. She immediately yanked it up. It was Ethan, and she’d never been so glad to hear anyone’s voice in her life.
“Have you found her?” was all she could say.
“No,” Ethan said, and her spirits sank.
“She wasn’t at the strip club?”
“No, they said she was sick.” He sounded put out and she wondered why.
“Then she’ll be back, won’t she?”
“I’m not sure. Since it was Saturday I was almost positive she’d be there.” A long pause.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when he didn’t say anything else. There was definitely a quality in his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“I believe in honesty. If clients lie to me, there’s not much I can do to help them. You once asked me if I was lying. Now I’m asking you, Serena. Are you lying to me?”
Now she understood the problem—he thought that since the stripper hadn’t appeared they could be one and the same person. “No, I’m not,” she said earnestly. “I am not the stripper. Please believe me. But I have to know who she is.”
She could almost feel his relief. “Okay, I’ll go back tonight.”
“Thanks, Ethan. I’ll wait for your call.”
Serena hung up the phone and noticed the caller I.D. Ethan was staying at a motel in Dallas. As she stared at the name, an idea formed in her head.

AFTER HEARING her voice, Ethan felt better. She wasn’t lying. He believed her, and he never took a case unless he believed the client. On this one, he’d been waffling back and forth so much he was beginning to doubt his instincts. Her soft voice confused those instincts completely, something that had never happened to him before. He’d feel like a fool if he was wrong about her, but deep inside he knew he wasn’t.
He decided to stake out the club to see if the redhead went in or out. He spent the afternoon watching the back entrance, but mostly saw service and delivery people. As afternoon grew into evening, a few girls trailed in, but they were blondes and brunettes, no redheads. The building was a two-story, and he glanced at the top floor. He wondered if any of the girls lived on the premises. It was certainly possible.
Bored with the inactivity, he called it quits. He’d check the club later when things were livelier. In the meantime he drove to the police station. He had a friend who worked narcotics; as far as he knew, Daniel was still on the force. He wanted to ask him some questions about Rudy Boyd, but unfortunately Daniel was out on a case. Ethan felt as if his whole day was wasted. He returned to his room, showered and changed for the evening, then drove to the nightclub to talk to Travis. Molly was getting dressed, so they had a few minutes alone.
“What do you know about Rudy Boyd?” he asked.
Travis shrugged. “Not a lot. He hired me about a year ago, but I’ve seen very little of him. He has clubs all over Dallas—he’s a very busy man. I’ve seen more of him since Molly’s been here than I have the whole of last year.”
“What’s his interest in Molly?”
“Damn, Ethan, you’ve been on that ranch too long. What do you think his interest is?”
“Be realistic, Travis. Molly’s my sister and I love her, but she’s thirty-five and Rudy Boyd seems more the type to go for twenty-year-olds.”
Travis shifted in his seat. “Yeah, I thought that, too, but maybe he’s tired of empty-headed twenty-year-olds. Whatever, I figure Molly’s old enough to know what she’s doing.”
Ethan rose to his feet. “You just keep an eye on her, because I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Ethan, don’t go looking for trouble.”
“I’m not. I’m just being cautious.”
“Too cautious, if you ask me. There’s more to life than work.”
“I’ve got to go,” Ethan said.
“Aren’t you gonna watch the show?”
“No, I don’t want Molly to think I’m spying on her.”
“Really.” Travis raised an eyebrow. “Where would she get an idea like that?”
Ethan gave him a piercing look and left.

AT THE STRIP CLUB, Ethan’s night was a repeat of the night before. The redhead didn’t appear. Tonight, though, the place was packed and there wasn’t any room to sit. He stood for a long time, watching and waiting, then made his way to the bar, hoping to talk to the bartender.
“What’ll you have?” the man finally asked after serving several other men.
“A draft, light,” Ethan said.
When the beer was placed in front of him, Ethan said conversationally, “I was hoping the redhead would strip tonight.”
The bartender frowned. “You got a thing for her?”
“Yeah. I’d sure like to meet her.”
“In your dreams, buster,” the barman muttered.
“I’m good at dreaming,” Ethan replied casually, trying to sound like a normal customer. “Any idea when she’ll be here again?”
“You ask too many questions, mister.”
The man was nervous. Ethan could see it in his eyes and the way he kept looking over Ethan’s shoulder.
A big man pushed between Ethan and the man beside him. “What’s the problem?” He spoke to the bartender.
“This one—” he nodded to Ethan “—is asking a lot of questions.”
“About what?”
“The redhead.”
The man scowled. “The girls are off-limits. Now get your ass out of here.” As he said the last words, he grabbed Ethan by the collar. Ethan’s arm came up and knocked the man’s hand away.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ethan said in a steely voice.
They faced each other. The other man, evidently the bouncer, was big and muscled, but Ethan was the same height and he wasn’t backing down. The bouncer got the message.
“Just leave and I won’t,” the bouncer finally said.
Ethan stared at him for an extra second, then left the bar.
Sitting in his truck, he tried to figure out what had just happened. Questions about the redhead made everyone nervous. Why? The club’s goal was to draw customers and to keep them coming back, so it made no sense to discourage their interest in any of the strippers.
Something was going on with the redhead—and it wasn’t good.

THE BOUNCER stabbed out a number on a cell phone. “We got problems,” he said. “Someone’s asking about the redhead.”
“Who?” the voice on the other end asked.
“Don’t know. Looks like a cop—Texas Ranger type.”
“Goddammit, where is he now?”
“I threw him out.”
“Good, and keep a close eye on her. Call me if he shows up again.”
“I will, but I don’t like this.”
“Don’t worry. Everything should be over in a few days.”

ETHAN OPENED his motel-room door and froze. The lights were on. He’d turned them off when he left, he was positive. Slowly he inched the door wider and stepped inside. Someone came up on his blind side. He reached out an arm and grabbed the person, and they tumbled onto the bed. Ethan realized two things almost instantly. The person was a woman and the woman was Serena. He recognized that perfume. His hold loosened and his body relaxed, but Serena kicked out with her legs and knocked him to the floor—on his bad hip. Pain shot through him and for a moment he was paralyzed.
“Ethan, I’m so sorry.” Serena fell on her knees beside him. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” he lied, and struggled to his feet. If she offered to help him, he’d explode. He sank onto the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Are you okay?” she said quickly, avoiding his question.
“What are you doing here, Serena?” he repeated in a tight voice.
She sat beside him—so close that he could breathe in her delicate scent. He wanted to ask her to move, to get as far away from him as possible, because he was in a mood that did not bode well for either of them.
“I just couldn’t sit at home any longer, and when I saw the name of the motel on caller I.D., I decided to drive over.”
How could he let something like that slip by him? “Damn, I’m getting too old for this job.”
“You think you’re old?” Her voice revealed surprise.
Right now he felt about ninety and her presence wasn’t helping. “How did you get in here?”
“Well—” she twisted her hands. “They don’t give out room numbers easily. I told the guy at the desk that I was your wife and that I wanted to surprise you. He gave me the number but no key. When I got here, the maid was putting fresh towels in the bathroom. So I just walked in. She didn’t speak much English and she obviously assumed the room was mine. I didn’t correct her assumption. I’ve been waiting for you since early evening. I was about to go crazy.”
Ethan was tired and his hip was throbbing and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with Serena Farrell. Silence reigned as he tried to figure out what his next step should be.
“Ethan.”
“Hmm?”
“Did you see her tonight?”
He drew a much-needed breath and turned to look at her, then wished he hadn’t. Her eyes were bright with expectation. She had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—he wasn’t a man who usually fell for beauty. When he was younger, beauty had attracted him first, but as he matured, honesty, faithfulness and kindness attracted him more. But looking at Serena, he didn’t really care about any of those qualities. That threw him and he decided he must’ve been watching too many women strip. He’d thought he was unaffected by the performances, but clearly he’d been wrong about that.
“Ethan,” she prompted when he didn’t answer.
“No, I didn’t see her,” he said.
“Oh, no. I was hoping…”
At the anxiety in her voice, he added, “But I have a strange feeling about that place.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone got real nervous when I started asking questions.”
“They did?”
“Yep, and they weren’t giving out any information, either.”
“So, she’s still there.”
“That’s my guess. I’ll try again tomorrow night.”
She fidgeted nervously. “I can’t afford to pay you for another night. I suppose I could go myself, but I’ve never been to a strip club. The activities are probably more than my imagination will allow.”
“It’s not a day at Sunday school,” he told her. “But don’t worry about it. The next night will be on me.”
“I can’t let you do that,” she said. “Your time is valuable.”
“I want to find out what’s going on in that place for reasons of my own, so we’ll call it even. Now I think we should both get some sleep.”
She didn’t move or say anything.
“Something wrong?” he asked guardedly.
“No. I knew it would be late when I saw you, so I told my grandmother I had business in Dallas and would be spending the night. There’s a No Vacancy sign outside, and I didn’t want to leave in case I missed you.” She should’ve left earlier, but she’d wanted to see Ethan. Now the thought of driving around looking for a room wasn’t appealing and neither was the prospect of going home. She could stay here with Ethan. He had a big room with a sofa. As the idea crossed her mind, she wondered where it came from. It was so unlike anything she’d ever contemplated; Ethan was a stranger and male, and that alone should make her think twice about such a situation. But for some reason, she didn’t fear him or worry that he’d take advantage of her.
He sighed, not wanting to think about what this meant.
“Do you mind if I stay here? I can sleep on the sofa,” she offered quickly, suspecting she’d lost all common sense. She should just go home. But, somehow, she wasn’t inclined to leave…and she wasn’t entirely sure why. “I really don’t want to drive back to Fort Worth this late. I’ll explain it to your wife.”
“I’ve been divorced for ten years.” He knew he didn’t have to tell her that. The fact that she thought he was married would have kept a barrier between them, but he was always honest. It was a code he lived by.
“Oh.” Her eyes grew big. “Then there isn’t a problem.”
Yes, there is. “No” was the word that came out of his mouth.
Silence. A long, tense silence.
Ethan wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to get her out of here so he could deal with his hip, but he hated to see her on the road this late. Still, being in the same room with her all night, especially when he was in pain, was more than his nerves could take—probably more than he could take under any circumstances. But how did he say no to her? Did he even want to say no to her?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/linda-warren/the-wrong-woman/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.