Sloan urged Saturn down the slope. Then he added, “James McKenzie is not an easy man to fool.”
SLOAN CAMPBELL WASN’T an easy man to fool, either. He loosened the tension on the rope to give Saturn more freedom to make his way down the slope. He was a man who prided himself on his ability to size up people as well as horseflesh. But “Red”—he’d decided to call her that until he figured out who she was—Red had had him going there for a few moments.
He had to admit that she was a dead ringer for Cameron, but his gut instinct told him that whoever she was, she wasn’t Cameron McKenzie. He let his gaze drift to the distinctive red hair, and wondered if hers had come out of a bottle. She had the same slender build, the same surprisingly long legs, considering the fact that she was barely five foot four. In body type and coloring, she could have been Cameron’s twin.
Except Cameron didn’t have a twin.
Still, whatever annoyance he felt for being taken in by “Red,” however temporarily, was more than matched by the admiration he felt for her guts and her creativity. He’d come damned close to buying her memory loss story. He might have if it weren’t for her eyes.
He’d seen something when he’d first grabbed her that he’d never seen in Cameron’s eyes. Desire. It wasn’t something a man could miss, and it had triggered a response in him. The kiss had been a test, and he wasn’t pleased by the fact that he’d wanted for a moment to take it beyond a test. What he’d felt when his mouth had pressed against hers had been raw and stunning. And for one brief moment, with her taste pouring into him, he’d wanted to go further. The only reason he hadn’t was because he hadn’t been sure he could stop himself from taking her right there on the bluff.
No woman had ever pushed him that far that quickly before. Certainly not Cameron. The kiss had been the clincher. The slender woman sitting in front of him was not Cameron McKenzie. But that left the questions—who the hell was she? And where was Cameron?
When Saturn finally reached level ground, Sloan urged him into a trot. His annoyance with himself deepened at the fact that he’d never once questioned that Cameron had run away in a snit five weeks ago. James hadn’t questioned it, either. No one had. She hadn’t taken her car, but she often used a limo service, claiming that being driven allowed her to get work done.
The night before she’d left, he and Cameron had had words, and she’d threatened to back out of the wedding, and he’d told her to go ahead. Not that he thought she would. Though six years separated them, they’d grown up together, and he knew her very well. She was high-strung, used to getting her own way, and he’d figured she’d stayed away five weeks to figure out a way to come back, go through with the wedding and still save face.
She wasn’t going to back out of the wedding. She’d given her word to her father. And while she might be spoiled, Cameron McKenzie never went back on her word. He’d convinced himself that she’d stayed away out of pride.
He’d told “Red” nothing less than the truth. Cameron liked to play games, and she didn’t like to lose. Had she found a double and set up this little charade by herself? For what purpose? But if she hadn’t set it up, he didn’t like the alternative explanations.
His gaze shifted again to the woman sitting in front of him, and his glance fell on the delicate curve of her neck right where it joined her shoulder. Arousal bloomed inside of him again, as raw and primitive as it had been when he’d kissed her.
The attraction he felt for her was going to be a problem. And he’d have to handle it.
Because the alternative was that Red was up to her neck in Cameron’s disappearance. A missing heiress and a ringer who was trying to take her place just a month before the wedding? He didn’t like that scenario one bit.
And Red might not be in this alone. There were groups of developers who would do a lot to get their hands on that strip of land along the Pacific. Sloan frowned. He liked that scenario even less.
He just had to figure out which way to play it. To play her. He wouldn’t let James or anyone else know his suspicions. No need to worry the old man before he had some evidence or at least a clearer idea of what had happened to Cameron. Besides, he might learn something from letting Red play out her little charade. Give her enough rope and she just might hang herself.
One thing was certain. Until he knew exactly what her game was, he was going to keep her on a very short leash.
SLOAN SAID NOTHING MORE on the ride back to the ranch, but I was intensely aware of him behind me on the horse. When we arrived, we rode past the stables and up a path that led to the back of the house. He dismounted, but before I could follow suit, hard hands gripped my waist and the next second I was on the ground. “Be careful when you put weight on that ankle.”
He didn’t step back right away. He just looked at me as if there was some answer in my eyes that he was determined to extract. If I’d known what it was, I would have given it to him.
By the time he dropped his hands, my knees had gone weak so I was very careful as I followed his advice and tested my ankle gingerly. “It’s fine.”
“I’m going to leave you in the kitchen with Elena. She’ll have an Ace bandage, and you’d better ice it tonight.”
I looked at him then, but his expression was unreadable. I wished that I could figure him out. Then maybe I could control my reaction to him. One minute, I was sure he was mocking me or testing me. The next he was kind and thinking of something like an Ace bandage.
Or kissing me. I was trying very hard not to think of that kiss.
An ancient-looking man, who had the slight build of a jockey, and the wrinkled face of Rumplestiltskin had followed us up the path and now took the rope from Sloan.
“Make sure you walk him in one of the rings and cool him down, Gus.”
The old man snorted. “You’re telling me how to handle a horse? I was working them before you were born.”
Sloan laughed as he turned to me. “Ms. Cameron’s back, but she doesn’t recognize you because she’s lost her memory.”
Gus shifted his gaze to me and nodded. “Welcome back, Ms. Cameron.” His eyes were nearly as penetrating as Sloan’s, but I saw a twinkle in them. “Lace Ribbons will be happy to see you. I’ve seen that she’s been exercised regularly while you’ve been gone.” Then with another nod, he turned and led Saturn away.
“He likes me,” I said.
The look Sloan gave me was enigmatic. “He’s known you since you were able to get down to the stables on your own.” Taking my arm, Sloan urged me onto the patio where I’d had tea earlier with Cole and Beatrice and then into the house.
“Now that Gus is spreading the word of your return, I want to be the first to let James know. I’ll help him get settled in his rooms, and then I’ll send for you. It might be too much of a shock if you just walk in.”
“Fine.” I watched him head toward the main foyer. That would give me a reprieve—and a little time out of Sloan Campbell’s disturbing presence.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I heard Elena welcoming James—my father. I was going to have to start thinking of him that way, I reminded myself.
In the meantime, I really needed to figure Sloan out. The fact that I was attracted to him—and there was no use denying that anymore—meant that I wasn’t thinking clearly about him. But I knew enough from creating characters that most people were defined by their motivations—the whys. What were Sloan’s? My instinct told me that he was not buying my story entirely. But why wasn’t he?
Did he have some reason to know for certain that I was not Cameron suffering from amnesia? I stopped short in the middle of the kitchen as I realized one reason he might have for seeing right through my little masquerade. Was Sloan Campbell responsible for my sister’s disappearance?
5
JAMES MCKENZIE’S ROOMS were at the back of the house, Elena informed me as she led the way along a corridor. After helping put an Ace bandage on my ankle, she’d taken me to Cameron’s room and waited while I changed my clothes and freshened up a bit.
It was my first opportunity to dress in my sister’s clothes. Pressed for time, I’d settled on a pair of navy cotton trousers with a white silk blouse and pulled on the closest pair of boots. Luckily, everything had fit. I had stories all ready in case they hadn’t. “I lost weight after the accident.” Or, “I gained some weight after the accident.”
On impulse, I’d grabbed some of Cameron’s scent out of a crystal bottle and dabbed it on. It was more exotic than the kind I usually favored, but I’d thought it might help with the cat. And much to my relief and surprise, it had. When I’d stepped out of the closet room, Hannibal hadn’t hissed or attacked. He’d simply sent me a bland look from his little “throne.”
“See. He’s beginning to remember you,” Elena had said.
Privately, I figured that Hannibal’s more friendly attitude had more to do with his newfound access to cat treats than with memory.
“This is it,” Elena announced as she halted in front of the door at the end of the corridor. At her knock, I heard a voice boom, “C’mon in.”