The Wrong Woman. Linda Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ