The Cowboy And The Countess

She gathered memories. “After my father’s death, Mama got a job on the Landovers’ household staff. She was lucky. The position didn’t pay much, but it included room and board. We lived on the estate, in the back, in a cottage with gingerbread trim.”

Her thoughts drifted further. “Kent was about two years older than me. An only child, he’d been left to the care of nannies and nurses since he was born. His parents were busy people. His father had his businesses, his mother her charities and social intrigues. I was Kent’s first real friend, and he, mine. His parents didn’t approve of the friendship. I was a servant’s child. They spoke to my mother, but when Kent came to our cottage, a lonely child wanting to play, Mama didn’t have the heart to send him away. Sometimes, when Mama was working and Kent’s parents weren’t home, we’d even play at the big house. Games children play—hide-and-seek, ‘Mother, May I…?”’

“Dress-up?” Ronnie asked.

Anna nodded. “It was our favorite. He was always K. C. Cowboy; I was always—”

“The Countess.” Ronnie understood.

Anna had to smile, remembering. “We were happy. Mom was happy, too. She sewed curtains for the cottage, embroidered pillowcases for our beds. She’d never had a real home, but this came close. She had a small salary and a roof over our heads, and, as time went on, I didn’t hear her crying so much in the night. Everything was pretty perfect. I thought it would stay that way forever. I was young.”

“What happened?”

“We would play dress-up and pretend for hours. Sometimes Kent would bring things from the big house for the dress-up box—a scarf, a hat, a necklace, a bracelet. We only saw pretty colors, sparkling stones, tinted lights. I didn’t know until later the jewelry was real. I didn’t know its value. I kept them, thousands of dollars of precious gems, in a box in the back of my closet with a tinfoil tiara and a toy six-shooter set. When they were found, my mother was as shocked as the Landovers. I told them I didn’t know the jewelry was worth so much money. I told them I’d only borrowed it for dress-up. The Landovers didn’t press charges, but we had to leave immediately.”

“But when Kent explained how—?”

“I never told anyone Kent had brought the jewelry. I didn’t want to get him into trouble. I was afraid they wouldn’t let him have any more friends, and he’d be all alone again, like he was before I came. I was five. He was seven.

“We had each other. The rest of the world was ruled by adults who decided what had happened and what would be done. We were only children.”

Her throat tightened. “I never got a chance to say goodbye.”

Ronnie’s eyes widened. “Hold on. The last time you saw this guy, you were five?”

Anna nodded.

“And he walks in here this morning and proposes marriage?” Ronnie shook her head. “He’s cute, but he’s got to be crazy.”

“He said he’d come from the hospital. The back of his shirt says Property of UCLA Medical Center. I came down to check if there was something about an accident or a missing person in the paper this morning. You didn’t see anything, did you?”

“Yeah, right here, on the first page of the business section—Kent Landover Goes Loony Tunes.”

“I’m only trying to figure this out.”

“Honey, if something did happen, they’re not going to issue a press release and start a panicked sell-off of Landover Tech stock. I’d say start with UCLA.”

“I suppose they might be able to explain everything.” Anna sighed. “I’m not sure I want to know. Kent Landover…crazy?”

“I’ve seen crazier on Hollywood Boulevard in broad daylight,” Ronnie said as she went back to scanning the paper. “Maybe he didn’t escape from the loony bin. Maybe he got a batch of mad cow beef. Wait—” Ronnie’s finger stopped halfway down the newspaper page. “There’s something here about Landover Technology.”

“What?” Anna rounded the desk and looked over Ronnie’s shoulder.

“Never mind. Nothing helpful. Speculation about a possible partnership with some Asian company,” Ronnie said, reading. She glanced up at Anna. “You think our cowboy upstairs is interested?”

She shook her head. “Not at the moment.”

They heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. As the back door to the reception area opened, Maureen was saying, “Are you sure you don’t want to lie down a spell, K.C.? Your body is still recovering from your accident yesterday.”

“He only lost it yesterday?” Ronnie whispered to Anna. “And the first thing he does is come looking for you? Can you say ‘stalker’?”

“S-s-s-h-h!” Anna hushed her.

Kent was holding the door open for Anna’s mother. “Ma’am,” he said to her, “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt better in my entire life.” He turned and smiled at Anna.

“Tea and scones.” He looked toward the window. “Sunshine.” His gaze went back to Anna. “And finding the sweetest little gal ever to set foot down on God’s good earth. That’s all an ailing man needs.”

Anna mustered a wan smile.

“Whoa, cowboy.” Ronnie laughed. “You sure do know how to shoot the—”

“Ronnie.” Maureen cut her off. She looked at the two women. “Anna, you haven’t even taken a shower yet? The new girls will be here for orientation in thirty minutes. I would prefer my head trainer doesn’t smell like fish.”

“I was on my way…but then…” She paused, saw Kent eyeing the monitor on the desk. “Ronnie needed help…rebooting the computer.”

“Rebooting?” Kent walked over to the desk. “I’ve heard of reshoeing, but never rebooting.” He stood next to her, stared down at the computer screen.

“Come on,” Ronnie protested. “You practically invented—”

“You don’t know much about computers, K.C.?” Anna interrupted.

He was still studying the screen. “Tell you the truth, darn fangled things scare me to death.”

Anna looked at Ronnie.

Ronnie pantomimed picking up a phone and dialing. “Call the hospital pronto,” she mouthed.

Chapter Three

Anna pulled the quilt up closer to Kent’s throat. Despite his protests, fatigue had overcome him by midafternoon, and he’d relented to Maureen’s urgings to “get a little rest.” Anna came upstairs to check on him ten minutes later, and he was already asleep, his lips curved, smiling at his dreams.

Free from watching eyes, she stared at his face, resisting the urge to touch the cheek dark with a day’s beard. Her heart rose and fell with the movement of his chest. How long had she dreamed one day he’d walk through her door, throw his arms around her and carry her off to a world of their own? How many hours had she imagined watching him as she watched him now, seeing him sleep and knowing his dreams would be of her? How long had the thought of him formed the foundation of her everyday existence?

Forever, her heart whispered.

Her hand rose, her fingertips hovering where his brow met blond curls beginning. The brow was almost smooth now, padded by a slight swell. The long-formed furrows were no more than thin lines. She saw a bruise blending beneath the day’s beard.

Whether he was crazy or not, she’d like to think she’d brought him happiness for brief moments. For he hadn’t been happy. She knew. She’d seen him happy once. She hadn’t seen the same light in his eyes for a long time. At first she’d thought it was the grainy newsprint or the artificial pose of a publicity shot. But gradually she’d realized it wasn’t the picture. It was the man. There was no joy in his features.

Until today.

So she sat inches from the only man she’d ever loved and hoped these short hours together were hours of happiness. She couldn’t, didn’t dare to hope for more. For those eyes, closed now, would one day open and no longer see K. C. Cowboy, no longer see Countess Anna. They’d see Kent Coleman Landover, CEO, board chairman. They’d see Anna Delaney, clean queen. One day the man would wake.

Their worlds had met, aligned once, a long time ago, when they were both unaware of bloodlines or bank accounts. It had ended swiftly. It would end again. The first time, she hadn’t known, and so could be forgiven.

The second time would be pure foolishness.

She rose wearily, suddenly tired herself. She’d postponed calling the hospital, using the excuse of the morning orientation session, then the welcome flurry of phone inquiries. She’d been stalling for time. She left Kent still sleeping, still smiling.

She went into the downstairs conference room, shut the door and dialed. As an electronic voice listed her choice of options, she realized she was uncertain whom she should talk to. Given the public and professional interest surrounding Kent, one word to the wrong person and she risked damaging his reputation and the credibility of his company.

She disconnected and stared down at the receiver. Should she call his office? The company’s powers-that-be must be aware of Kent’s current condition, and, for the good of the company if nothing else, could be counted on for discretion. The receiver’s dial tone began to beep. She punched in Directory Assistance and got the number for Landover Technology.

She asked to be connected to Kent Landover’s office, hoping to speak to whoever was steering the ship while the captain played cowboy. When a woman answered, “Mr. Landover’s office,” Anna gave her name and asked to speak to him. The woman hesitated, then asked what the call was in reference to.

Anna simply said, “K.C.”

A man’s voice came on the line immediately. “What’d you say your first name was?”

“Anna.”

The man moaned. “The countess?”

She was uncertain how to reply.

“This just keeps getting better and better.”

“Who am I speaking to?” Anna asked.

“No. Who am I speaking to?” the man countered.

“I told you my name is Anna Delaney—”

“The countess?”

“No, well, not exactly.”

“This is wonderful. This is rich. Miriam?” the man yelled. Anna pulled the phone away from her ear. “Where’s my Tagamet?”

Without taking a breath, the man demanded, “What exactly is the nature of your current relationship with Kent Landover?”

“I don’t have a current relationship with Kent Landover—”

“But you did?”

“Yes…once…but it was a very long time ago.”

“What was it? A back-seat session in the limo after your coming-out ball? A fling in between semesters at Stanford? That weekend conference in Tahoe? Miriam, the Tagamet!”

Anna struggled to keep her tone controlled. “I’d like to speak to someone else, please.”

“No, sister. I’m your best bet. First of all, only a handful of others know about this situation, but they all have valid incentives to want to keep it that way. However, I doubt the motives of a one-night stand called The Countess. Unless you can fax me the family tree, I say you’re not even royalty.”

“I’m not.” Anna could almost hear the man’s blood pressure rising. “I’m also not a one-night stand.”

“Ha! Listen, lady, I don’t care what kind of relationship you had with Kent. In fact, I don’t even want to know, but if it could threaten the reputation of Kent Landover and this company, I’ll make it my business to know. I’ll dig up every time you so much as crossed against the light if I have to. Then try to go public with the story of your meaningless little affair with Kent. Just try. Do you really think they’ll listen to someone who goes by the name The Countess?”

“Probably not.”

“Probably…not.” She’d stopped the man cold. “Still, you’re still planning to go to the papers with your story?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course…not,” he parroted again, puzzled. “What do you want, then?”

“I called to tell you that Mr. Landover is here with me.”

“Good God!” His voice burst through the speaker. “You’ve kidnapped him.”

Anna waited a second, then put the phone back to her ear.

The man was still talking, threatening. “…and I’ll hunt you down and personally throttle you with—”

“I did not kidnap Mr. Landover.” Anna made each word distinct. Her initial indignation, however, was tempered by the concern she heard in the man’s voice.

“No, he just signed himself out of the hospital and walked in your door this morning?”

“Is that what the hospital told you? When did they start letting patients sign themselves out of the psychiatric ward?”

“Psychiatric ward?” The phone in Anna’s hand vibrated. “He wasn’t in the psychiatric ward. He’s not crazy.”

“I see.” The more enraged the man’s voice became, the calmer Anna kept her responses. “Then the cowboy thing is a midlife career change?”

There was a pause, then the man said, “Kent Landover had an accident yesterday. He swerved to avoid hitting a bus and lost control of his vehicle. Fortunately, he only suffered a concussion. Unfortunately, as a result of the head injury, he has amnesia.”

“Amnesia.” She said it once, then twice more as if the word had magical powers. “That’s wonderful.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“He’s not crazy?”

“Believe me, Kent Landover is the sanest, most sensible man I know, and I can assure you, and the doctors can assure you, he’ll return to that sane, sensible man any minute now. But until then, he believes he’s a cowboy named K.C. in love with a countess named Anna.”

“I know.” She spoke quietly.

“Ms…?”

“Delaney,” she again filled in.

“Ms. Delaney, my name is Leon Skow. I’m executive vice president and one of the original investors in Landover Technology. I’m also Kent’s friend. I’m beginning to think you are, too. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then maybe you’d like to tell me how you fit into all this?”

Leon listened in rare silence as she explained everything. He didn’t speak again until she was at the part when she’d decided to call Landover Tech instead of the UCLA Medical Center.

“How’d you know he’d come from the medical center?”

“Their name was stamped on his scrubs.”

“He’s wearing scrubs?”

“And foam rubber slippers.”

“He walked through the streets of L.A. like that?”

“I’m sure no one even noticed. After all, this is L.A.”

“Do you know if he’s talked to anyone else besides you?”

“My mother and Ronnie were here when he came in this morning.”

Leon moaned.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “My mother doesn’t think he’s crazy. She thinks he’s finally come to his senses. After some initial resistance, I think he’s charmed Ronnie, also.”

“Who’s Ronnie? Your boyfriend?”

“No, Ronnie’s our receptionist. Her real name is Veronica, but ‘Ronnie, the Bam Bam Bomber’ played better in the roller derby circuit.”

“Exactly what kind of a business do you run, Ms. Delaney?”

“Call me Anna. My mother just opened a cleaning service. The Clean Queens. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”

There was silence, then Leon was chuckling. “I think I’ve heard of you.”

“Really? We wanted a name that’d attract attention.”

“I think you accomplished that.”

“We’ve been advertising, of course. Newspapers, a billboard, couple of late-night TV spots—”

“Buses?” Leon asked.

“You’ve seen the ads?”

“Not me. Someone else.”

“We’re trying to hit the ground running, if you know what I mean.”

“These ads?” Leon asked. “They show a woman with a crown?”

“I’ve got a feather-duster scepter, too.”

“You’re the woman in the ads?”

“As a former roller derby champion, Ronnie thought it was beneath her dignity.”

“Now I understand.” Leon relayed to Anna everything Kent had remembered right before the accident.

“Seeing you on the back of the bus must’ve triggered some long-buried memory in his mind,” he concluded. “I wouldn’t even be surprised if now that he’s seen you, his memory comes back. What’s he doing now?”

“Sleeping.”

“Sleeping? Good. Sleep is good. Why, he could wake up right this very second and be back to his old self. And all this nonsense will be over.”

Anna heard the hope in Leon’s voice.

“Any minute now, everything could be back to normal. Give me your address, and I’ll be right over to get him.”

She recited her address.

“And Anna,” Leon cautioned before hanging up, “keep an eye on him. The CEO of Landover Technology wandering about L.A. in pajamas and slippers isn’t exactly the image the company wants to project.”

She promised, hung up the phone and went out to the reception area. Ronnie was taking a call. Anna’s mother was on-site with a new group of girls. Anna started toward the stairs.

At the doorway, she heard Ronnie say, “How’s our cowboy?”

Anna turned around. “I spoke with a vice president at Landover Technology. Kent had a car accident yesterday. He has amnesia.”

“Amnesia?”

Anna nodded. “Right before the accident he saw me in a Clean Queens ad. Seeing the ad, then taking the blow to his head somehow altered his memory. When he woke up, he believed K. C. Cowboy and the Countess were real. It makes perfect sense.”

“I suppose—”

“Of course it does.” She wasn’t going to allow any alternative speculations. She’d already heard enough nonsense about destiny and fate and the power of true love.

“The man has a big bump on his head. It’s as simple as that.” She started again toward the stairs, ending the discussion. She made her steps on the stairs quick and light.

He was still sleeping, smiling. Again she pulled the quilt up to his neck, even though she knew the gesture was done more for her than him. The comfortably warm temperature in the room made any covers unnecessary. She would go now. Soon, so would he.

She had even taken a step when his hand closed around her wrist and pulled her back, landing her in the curve of his resting body, his mouth meeting hers in a movement fluid, fine, like the first taste of wind.

Another’s breath, another’s being, one she had longed for her whole life, found her and filled her. She felt her lips widen, her need expanding, grasping. He touched his tongue to her, and her need breathed, ballooned, banishing all else. Reason, protest, rationale, all to blackness.

She went to him, pressing close to the reclining angle of his body, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin shirt. She lay full on the hard relief of his chest, feeling the sheer solidness of him, reveling in the cocoon of his arms. Hold me, she prayed, even then, in the delirium of her desire, hearing the folly of her thoughts. Still, her incantation played: Don’t let me go. Don’t let me go.

She bid his tongue into her mouth, the press of her body matching the press of her desire. Her hands found his face. As she touched the day-old beard shadowing his cheeks, she smiled beneath the circle of his lips. Her fingertips feathered across his forehead, arced across his eyes closed to the world. There was only her; there was only him. She drew her fingertip across one blond brow, then the other, needing to touch, to feel, to remember.

Her hands moved on, touching each temple, the beginning border of thick curls. One hand threaded through the wave to curve about that magnificent blond crown. The other passed again across his forehead, feeling the slight swell of skin there, remembering, remembering too much.

She sat up. Her hands touched him a second longer as if her responses had slowed, and her very body was denying her demands. She stood up, angry only with herself. She turned her back to him. Her eyes closed, seeking once more the blackness, but this time, the blackness of complete control.

It came, so that when he stood and touched her back, she was able to silently step away.

“Anna?”

Such a sweet voice, she thought. She alone could hear the child in it. The child she had known. Sometimes before, when there had been only pictures to indulge her foolish fantasies, she had looked hard, seeking the child. Beneath the sharp lines of tailored suits, the determined angles of his profile, the slashes drawn across his brow, slanting down his cheeks, she looked and there was the child. She would peer closely, remembering the boy, the smile willing, the body knobby and awkward before the hardness and denial had drawn it up stiff. She remembered herself and him and the happiness they alone believed possible.

And now, finally, although it made no sense and would be short-lived, so had he. It was enough to allow her to smile and, smiling still, turn and face him.

She hadn’t been prepared for the confusion, the despair she saw on his face. His hands were lifted to her, offering, entreating.

“Anna, I love you. Is it wrong?”

She took those hands in hers, but when he began to step toward her, she tightened her hold, halting him.

“Let’s sit down,” she said, leading him back to the couch still warm from their presence.

“Kent—” she began.

“K.C.” he insisted.

“K.C.” she started again, concentrating on his face, keeping her voice kind, “I spoke with the vice president of Landover Technology a little while ago.”

He looked at her, puzzled.

“Leon,” she said. “Leon Skow.”

His brow wrinkled. “Leon,” he murmured. “Short guy? Talks fast?”

She laughed. “I’ve never seen him in person, but he does talk fast.”

He smiled. “Bit abrupt but a nice enough fella. I met him yesterday at the hospital.”

“You remember?”

“Sure, he was there with some dark-haired woman.” He smiled again as he remembered. “They were so confused.”

“They were confused?”

He nodded. “They thought I was some other guy named Kent Landover. Some big shot here in L.A. who owns that company you mentioned.”

“Landover Technology.”

“That’s it. He must be pretty rich.”

“He is,” she confirmed.

“You know him?”

She looked into the blue wash of his eyes, so clear and light, they seemed to spill silver.

“Kent…”

His eyes clouded to the color of shadows on snow.

“Anna, we need to talk about us,” he said. “Not these strangers.”

“They aren’t strangers, Kent.”

Despite the tight hold she had on his hands, he pulled free. “K.C., Anna,” he pleaded. “I’m K.C.”

“Leon told me you had an accident yesterday.”

“I told you that, too.” He stood and went to the window as she’d done only moments ago. It was his time to turn his back.

“That’s right, you did. You said you hurt your head but you’re fine now.”

“I wasn’t lying to you.” Small clouds formed as his breath touched the glass. “I am fine.”

She stood up, took a step toward him. “Do you remember the doctors saying you had amnesia?”

He turned. “I know you’re worried, but there’s nothing wrong with me, Anna. I love you. I can take care of you and make you happy.”

He came to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. She looked into the silver sheen of his eyes. “Believe in me, Anna. Believe in us.”

She did believe, she thought. She always had.

They stood together, the belief in themselves and what could be full in their hearts. In that moment, it was possible. Everything was possible. A computer wizard could be a wrangler. A cleaning girl could be a countess. If they believed…

“A-n-n-n-a!” Ronnie called from below. “Some people are here to see you.”

She received the summons with a smile, knowing she’d been saved. She and Kent walked downstairs, still hand in hand, their descent unhurried. The ground level beckoned, but Anna’s steps remained slow and measured. She would reach the flat surface soon enough.

She heard Leon even before they reached the reception room.

“Within a year, you’re going to want triple the megabytes on this baby,” he was telling Ronnie as he examined the back of her computer’s central unit. “What speed modem do you have?”

A beautiful brunette, perched on the edge of one of the red velour chairs, jumped up.

“Kent!”

Anna recognized the woman coming toward them as Kent’s fiancé. The woman scanned Kent’s outfit. She hesitated. Her smile dissolved.