One Stubborn Texan. Kara Lennox

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СКАЧАТЬ This had to be a mistake. Only one person ever in his life had that kind of money and there was no way…

      When his vision cleared, Sydney was gone. The jingling of the bell on the door announced her departure. He resisted the urge to chase after her and demand to know more. That was exactly what she wanted and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, he moved to the window to watch her walk to her car.

      She had quite a nice hitch in her git-along, as Bert would say. As she started to climb into her car, a gust of wind caught her hat and snatched it off her head. She pirouetted gracefully, managing to catch the beret with both hands just before it sailed out of reach. At the same time her eyes caught his and she tossed him a wave and a mischievous smile.

      How had Sydney tracked him down? When Sammy had sent him and his mom away, he’d done everything possible to erase every trace of their presence in his life.

      A whine and the clicking of toenails on the wood floor brought Russ’s attention back to Nero. The dog was on his feet, sniffing furiously around the legs of the chair that had been Sydney’s, then on the floor where her purse and briefcase had been.

      “Don’t worry, Nero, she’s gone,” Russ said in a soothing voice.

      The dog hardly looked relieved. He pressed his nose against the wood floor and traced an invisible trail that meandered toward the door, his floppy jowls puffing out with each breath. Then he stopped, sniffed mightily into the air and gave a sharp bark.

      “What’s wrong with you?” Russ wondered aloud. The city girl had certainly played havoc with his own senses. Maybe her intriguing perfume, which lingered in the air, had upset Nero’s equilibrium, as well.

      After a few more anxious sniffs, however, Nero padded to his spot by the stove, plunked himself down and promptly went to sleep.

      Bert emerged from the storage room, frowning. “Why did you lie to that girl?”

      “Why did you eavesdrop on my private conversation?” Russ shot back, though he’d known that was exactly what Bert would do. As dear as he was, Bert was insatiably curious and a terrible gossip.

      “I didn’t listen on purpose, just picked up a word now and then. And the issue is you’re lying. Thought you knew better.”

      “I didn’t lie. My mother’s name is Vera. Vera Edwina.” But mostly known as Winnie.

      “You’re splittin’ hairs. We both know the girl was talking about Winnie. She probably just assumed Winnie was short for Winifred. Which means she was looking for you.”

      “I don’t want to be found,” Russ said flatly. Not even by a gorgeous city woman with big brown eyes.

      “She’s gonna figure it out,” Bert said. “All she has to do is ask the right person. Ten minutes in this town and she’ll find out your mother goes by Winnie.”

      “I didn’t think she’d be staying around long enough to ask,” Russ said. He realized now that his strategy of misleading Sydney Baines would only delay the inevitable. “I definitely didn’t know she was staying at the Periwinkle.” Fortunately, the two elderly maiden sisters who ran the B and B in their Victorian home were certifiably dotty. They could cook up a wonderful breakfast, but they lived a good deal in the past and nothing they said made much sense.

      “I’ll just have to keep an eye on her,” Russ said. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t talk to anyone who knows Mom.”

      “I don’t get it,” Bert said. “Didn’t that purty gal say she wanted to give you money?”

      Apparently Bert hadn’t heard Sydney reveal the exact amount. Thank God for small favors. If Bert knew Russ was turning his back on ten million dollars, he would call the men in white coats. And maybe he was crazy. But he had his reasons. “Money doesn’t solve all problems,” he said. “And for some people, it just creates more.”

      “Ah,” Bert said, nodding, finally getting it. “You’re right about that. If you want to stop that gal from finding out the truth, you better get over to the Periwinkle and keep a watch on her.”

      Russ nodded. “You’ll mind the store for me?”

      Bert shrugged. “Like I got anything else to do?”

      “And you won’t say anything to Mom, right?”

      “Mum’s the word.”

      Russ wished he could take more comfort in Bert’s promise to keep quiet. But Bert kept his cell phone charged and ready, just in case he had a juicy tidbit to pass along. He had little else to do but watch who came and went on Main Street.

      As Russ walked the five blocks to the Periwinkle B and B, he formulated a strategy for dealing with Sydney Baines. If she wanted to bury her nose in the courthouse records, there was no harm in that, he supposed, since the records were in such a jumbled mess she probably wouldn’t be able to find anything. But he ought to take some precautions, just in case.

      Maybe he’d volunteer to help her look.

      The prospect of spending more time with Sydney wasn’t at all unpleasant. She was the brightest thing to enter his store all winter. Maybe that single dark curl of hair would escape and fall across her cheek again. And maybe next time he saw it there, he would give in to temptation and smooth it back.

      “IS EVERYTHING SATISFACTORY?” asked Miss Gail Milhaus, one of the owners of the Periwinkle Bed & Breakfast. Or maybe it was Miss Gretchen. Sydney had a hard time telling the septuagenarians apart. They were identical twins who dressed in identical vintage outfits, complete with matching barrettes in their long, silver hair. They also had a pair of identical cats that liked to wrap themselves around first one set of ankles, then the other.

      “It’s a lovely room,” Sydney assured her hostess, reaching down to pet one of the cats. She didn’t trust dogs, but cats were okay.

      The misses Milhaus had made her feel very welcome. Since it was the off-season she was the only one staying at the B and B. She’d also gotten a very good room rate, almost as low as if she’d stayed out at the motel on the highway. But here she got to sleep in a soft bed with a feather comforter, take a bubble bath in a huge, claw-foot tub and enjoy a gourmet breakfast in the morning.

      Sydney wasn’t really much for fussy Victorian decor. She didn’t like clutter and bric-a-brac, and her apartment back in Brooklyn could be described as minimalist. But her room in the B and B, painted shell-pink and featuring an abundance of cabbage roses, had a certain charm and, thanks to a crystal bowl of potpourri, it smelled wonderful.

      “You look so like Miss Moony,” said Gail—or Gretchen. “Are you here for the boat races?”

      Boat races? This time of year? “I’m doing some research,” she said. “Actually, I’m looking for a man.”

      The elderly lady clicked her tongue. “They’re a waste of time, you ask me. Gretchen and I have lots of boyfriends, but it never works out in the long run. We’ve always been so close and men don’t like that.”

      “Well, I agree, men are a lot of trouble,” Sydney said with a smile. “But I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I’m trying to locate a man who has come into an inheritance. His name is Russell Klein.”

      “An СКАЧАТЬ