Millionaire in a Stetson

“Your baby?” Sawyer asked, falling into step, still making conversation about things he already knew.

“Better be,” Caleb joked.

Sawyer couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Mandy,” Caleb called as they neared, fondness clear in his tone.

The woman glanced up. She smiled, green eyes shining with obvious love as the two men approached. “Hello, darling.”

Caleb kissed her mouth, then he kissed the baby on the forehead.

“This is my wife, Mandy. Sweetheart, this is Sawyer Smith. He just bought the Raklin place.”

Mandy’s smile broadened. “Welcome to Lyndon Valley. This is Asher. Our new son.”

“Congratulations,” said Sawyer, looking down at the sleeping child. “How old is he?”

“Three months.”

The baby’s eyes were closed. His skin was almost translucent, and his little, bow mouth made gentle suckling motions in his sleep. He looked delicate and vulnerable swaddled in the flannel blanket.

It never ceased to amaze Sawyer that rational people would bring something so fragile into such an uncertain world. Didn’t they worry about what could happen? How did they sleep at night, thinking about the danger?

Not that Lyndon Valley seemed dangerous. In fact, it was a million miles away from both political strife and inner city problems. And Caleb and Mandy were probably great parents, salt of the earth.

It occurred to Sawyer that a normal man would feel guilty lying to such obviously decent people. Luckily, Sawyer’s emotions had been hardened over the years. But the thought led him to wondering if Niki was cold as ice, or if she was ashamed of her own deception.

He glanced up, seeking her out again.

She was looking directly at him, and when his gaze met hers, something arced through the atmosphere between them. It was an awareness that went beyond two strangers meeting. She quickly blinked and looked away, but not before it occurred to Sawyer that she might already have his number. Was it possible that she knew exactly who he was, and that she was playing him? Could she be that good an actress? He immediately realized he couldn’t take the chance.

“He’s a beautiful baby,” he said to Caleb and Mandy. “Can you excuse me?”

He left them, making his way toward Niki.

She’d moved away from the crowd, going downhill toward the creek and a little white footbridge that crossed it.

He continued after her.

They had to have another conversation. And he needed to pay attention to more than just her beauty this time. If she even suspected he was a Layton, she’d bolt the second his back was turned.

Niki braced her palms on the rail of the footbridge, gazing toward the crystal-blue water of Flash Lake. Tiny ripples were signaling the beginnings of an evening breeze that would keep the flies at bay.

Flash Lake was surrounded by brilliant green willows and silvery aspens. Craggy mountains jutted up behind it, creating a picture-perfect setting against the vast sky. Closer in, horses grazed in the flower-dotted meadows, their black, brown and white coats, glossy in the rays from the setting sun.

Since it was midsummer, colts and fillies frolicked through the foot-tall meadow, their high-pitched whinnies carrying up the slope. Wheatgrass and clover freshened the air, while the crystal creek gurgled six feet below her, hiding water bugs and speckled trout. Though it had only been three months, there were moments when she had to struggle to remember the sights, smells and sounds of Georgetown.

But, not today. Today, D.C. was crowding out Colorado.

Niki knew the reason. Looking into Sawyer Smith’s blue eyes, feeling what she’d felt, and wanting what she’d wanted, she’d been reminded that she was a fraud. She wasn’t Nellie Cooper. She was Niki Gerard, daughter of Gabriella Gerard, the most notorious woman in the nation’s capital.

That she shared a father with Caleb and Reed was nothing but a genetic coincidence. Her real life and her real world were far removed from their lives out here.

She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now she knew she’d been wrong to bring her problems to their doorstep. She wished she didn’t like them so much, or that Mandy and Katrina hadn’t been so kind.

If she’d found her mother’s diary, she might never have come here. If she had the diary, if she could read the entries, she’d know who to fear and how to fight back. But she’d searched every square inch of the penthouse, tracked down every safe-deposit box, checked every nook, cranny and corner. She’d even had a professional search through Gabriella’s computer and email accounts, thinking the diary might have been electronic. But, no luck.

“Nice view,” came a deep voice that sent an instant quiver up her spine. His footsteps sounded on the little bridge.

It took Niki a moment to find her own voice and respond. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed, praying Sawyer would keep right on walking.

But he didn’t. He came to a halt and copied her stance, bracing his own hands on the painted white rail, gazing out at the lake.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked pleasantly.

The aroma of grilling burgers was beginning to fill the air. Niki’s empty stomach reacted to the enticing scent. She’d learned there was nothing like fresh air and physical work to heighten an appetite.

“Getting there,” she admitted.

He was silent for a minute. “So, this is going to be Reed’s house?”

Niki nodded, her attention going back to the two-story building.

“It’s a big house for two people,” Sawyer observed.

“Reed wants four children.”

“Four?” Sawyer sounded surprised.

“I think he’d go for more if Katrina would agree.” Niki had been present for some of their good-natured arguments. She couldn’t help thinking about the way Reed looked at Katrina. He was head over heels in love, and Niki was sure he’d agree to anything she asked.

“What about you?” Sawyer asked.

The odd question surprised her. “I’m a long way from thinking about children.”

Even if it did become safe for her to go back to her real life, she didn’t think she was motherhood material. She certainly hadn’t had any kind of a role model in her own mother. Gabriella was only eighteen when she’d given birth to Niki. They’d been more like friends than mother and daughter. And while Niki’s childhood and teenage years had held more than their share of excitement, they’d also been chaotic and confusing.

“I was wondering if you might live here when the house is finished,” Sawyer clarified. “You seem to be working hard on it.”

Niki reframed her thoughts, coming back to the present, shaking her head. “That’s not in the plan.”

“You’ll stay in the main house, then?”

Niki turned slightly to take in his expression, unsure of his point. Then again, maybe she was simply paranoid and uncomfortable thinking about her future.

Why on earth did Sawyer have to show up today? She’d been perfectly happy living in this cocoon. It might not have been ideal, but at least it was safe.

“Nellie?” he prompted.

She struggled to remember the original question. But then she met his eyes, and her mind went completely blank. Another shot of desire raced through her system. He was a fantasy man come to life, all strength and purpose, silhouetted by the mountains and the smooth blue sky. She suddenly wished with all her heart that the life she had here was real.

Two

The ingenuous, puzzled expression on Niki’s face told Sawyer two things. One, she hadn’t the first clue who he was. And two, there was a reason his Uncle Charles had risked everything for an affair with Gabriella.

Niki’s eyes were large, dark fringed, beautiful, clear green beneath perfectly arched brows. Her cheeks were pink, her face heart-shaped, and her mouth was a lush bow of red that telegraphed a lethal combination of eroticism and innocence. If Gabriella had even a fraction of Niki’s enticing sensuality, Charles could be forgiven absolutely.

“Reed said you all grew up on the ranch.” Sawyer changed the topic, intent on learning as much as he could about her cover story.

“Reed and Caleb grew up here,” Niki responded, her attention going back to the view. “I’m their half sister.”

“You grew up somewhere else?”

“Boston.”

Boston, not D.C. It was only a slight alteration, and the tactic earned his respect. Deception 101—keep your story as close to the truth as possible.

While they conversed, random shouts and the squeals of children crossed from the crowd of people around the house.

“A remarriage?” Sawyer pressed.

Niki shook her head. “Just me and my mom.”

Another true statement. “Did you visit here in summers?”

“I never knew my father.”

“Interesting story?”

“Not really,” she said. “My mother passed away a few months ago. That’s when it came to light.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” On a human level, Sawyer couldn’t help but be sorry that she’d lost her mother. His own mother had died when he was in his early twenties. Though the Laytons were never the most loving or attentive of parents, he still missed her.

“Thank you,” said Niki.

They both fell silent.

“Do you wonder why she kept it secret?” he asked.

She shot him a curious look, and he realized it was time to back off.

“You must be hungry,” he said, nodding toward the barbecue.

But instead of picking up on the topic change, her voice took on a faraway tone. “I came as quite a shock to them.”

“Reed and Caleb?”

“Yes.”

Sawyer quickly readjusted. “It must happen a lot these days. Strangers showing up, claiming to be relatives. You know, what with all the new social media and technology.”

“And DNA doesn’t lie.”

“You took a DNA test?” Sawyer couldn’t quite keep the astonishment from his voice.

“Of course. How else could we be certain? And, yes, I am hungry.” She abruptly pulled back from the rail and started toward the crowd of people.

It took Sawyer a moment to recover. Niki was actually a Terrell? In addition to a dozen or so judges, politicians and captains of industry, Gabriella had slept with a rancher from Colorado.

It didn’t fit her pattern. And, unfortunately, it meant Sawyer had just lost some of his leverage. He couldn’t threaten to out Niki with Reed and Caleb if they were truly her brothers. That got him wondering if they knew who she was. Were they playing along with the ruse to protect her, or had she kept her true identity a secret from them?

If they knew the truth, then he was working against the entire Terrell clan, not just Niki. He scrambled to wrap his mind around that possibility. If they were all on alert, then a single misstep on his part would be a disaster.

He quickly caught up to her as she climbed the small rise toward the house. “You must have been excited to find them,” he probed.

When she answered, there was a tightness to her tone.

“You mean because I went from being all alone in the world to having two of the greatest brothers in existence? Yes, I was excited to find them.”

He tried to decipher her meaning. Were they great brothers because they were protecting her secret? “So, no other siblings?”

“None,” she answered briskly, skipping into a jog.

She paused by a blue-and-white cooler, flipping the lid, dipping in to pull out a soft drink.

Sawyer hung back, pausing at the edge of the crowd.

“Travis Jacobs.” Another cowboy stepped up and offered his hand.

“Sawyer Smith.” Sawyer shook, forcing himself to regroup. More than ever, he knew he had to take his time with this. Finding the diary was going to be a marathon, not a sprint.

“I hear we’re neighbors,” said Travis.

“Word gets around fast.”

“I’m Mandy and Katrina’s brother. We have the spread that borders southeast of the Terrells.”

“Mandy and Katrina are sisters?” Sawyer’s research had told him as much, but the two women certainly didn’t look anything alike.

“Jacobs, both of them.”

And both married to Niki’s brothers, which tied Travis to Niki, as well. If the Terrells and the Jacobs were anything like the Laytons, family was family, and they’d protect their own.

“Beer?” Travis asked, filling the temporary gap in conversation.

“Sure.”

Travis crossed to the nearest cooler and extracted two cans of Budweiser, returning to pass one to Sawyer.

“The Raklin place?” Travis asked.

“That’s the one.”

“Good graze in the high country. Water issues in late September, but I expect you’ve looked into that.”

Sawyer popped the top of his beer, letting his gaze focus on Niki as she spread mayonnaise on a hamburger bun then layered on slices of pickles. Katrina was beside her, laughing and chatting one moment, then talking low into her ear the next. He hadn’t expected this much of a shield around Niki. In fact, he hadn’t expected anyone to be close to her at all.

“I hear the water-license issue is going to be resolved soon,” he said to Travis.

Travis laughed. “Anybody define ‘soon’ for you?”

Sawyer couldn’t help but smile at Travis’s skepticism. Truth was, the long-term viability of the Raklin place as a working ranch was the least of Sawyer’s worries. He only expected to own it for a few months. Dylan Bennett, the ranch manager’s son from the Layton family’s Montana ranch had agreed to come out and run the spread in the short term to keep up appearances.

But as soon as Sawyer was done with Niki, his lawyers would put it back on the market. And, if the water license proved a stumbling block to selling, Sawyer could solve it with a single phone call. Charles might be the senator from Maryland, but he golfed with the senator from Colorado, and he had a whole lot of D.C. markers he could call in.

Assuming, of course, Gabriella’s diary didn’t get him kicked out of office and thrown in jail first.

“We’ve been fighting that particular war for a couple of years now,” said Travis.

“Need any help?”

Travis arched a brow.

Sawyer took a swig of his beer, realizing it had been foolish of him to offer. “I know a couple of politicians,” he explained.

“My brother was elected Mayor last year. I think he’s got the political angle covered.”

“Good enough, then.”

There was no sense in taking on somebody else’s fight. Sawyer’s attention strayed back to Niki. He obviously had enough trouble on his hands.

“Since there is no earthly reason you would buy yourself a cattle ranch in Colorado,” Dylan Bennett opened as soon as Sawyer came in through the front door of the Raklin place.

The man had parked himself in the living room of the ranch house, boots up on a worn, leather ottoman. “And since you’re calling yourself Smith—unimaginative as hell, by the way. I’m guessing somebody’s in trouble.”

“We’re the Laytons,” Sawyer responded drily, pausing to plunk his Stetson on a wall peg in the entryway and rake a hand through his short hair. “Trouble is our middle name.”

Dylan glanced around the expansive, recently updated living and dining areas of the big house. It was roomy and nicely finished, with gleaming hardwood, freshly painted walls, and a myriad of high ceilings, hewn wooden beams and panoramic windows.

“Pretty deep trouble,” he drawled. “Judging by how much this place must have set you back.”

“You always were smarter than the average cowboy,” Sawyer drawled, moving into the living room.

“You want to catch me up?” Dylan stretched back in the worn armchair.

By contrast to the house, the furnishings were grim. They consisted of the leftovers the Raklins hadn’t bothered to pack up, a worn brown sofa, a creaky armchair and a dated, arborite table with four mustard-yellow, vinyl chairs with spindly metal legs.

“You bring any beer?” Sawyer asked Dylan before sitting down.

“Stocked the fridge.” Dylan cocked his head toward the kitchen where the Raklins had left four high-end, fairly new appliances. “Didn’t make much sense to waste a trip through town.”

“Good thinking,” Sawyer approved, carrying on through the dining room to the kitchen.

He liberated a couple of bottles of Coors from the refrigerator door then made his way back to Dylan.

“It’s Charles, isn’t it?” asked Dylan as he accepted one of the icy-cold beers.

“What makes you say that?” Not that Sawyer had any intention of denying the truth to Dylan. Dylan was on their side. He’d been loyal his entire life.

As teenagers, the two men had run pretty wild together whenever Sawyer visited the Montana ranch. They stole liquor from the cook’s pantry, borrowed more than one ranch pickup truck, got into fistfights and picked up girls. Their exploits had cemented a friendship, and Sawyer would trust Dylan with his life.

Dylan looked pointedly around the ranch house. “You bought yourself ten-thousand acres of prime land. As cover stories go, it’s the very definition of overkill. I figure the only reason you’d go to this much trouble is to protect Charles’ Senate seat.”

“You nailed it,” Sawyer agreed, dropping onto the old, lumpy sofa and taking a swig of his beer. It was cool against his throat, dry from breathing in the dust of the construction site.

“You’re blending,” Dylan stated.

“In with the locals,” Sawyer confirmed. He and his uncle had concocted the plan together.

“What the hell did Charles do to warrant this level of complexity?”

Sawyer knew he shouldn’t smile. It was a serious situation. But Dylan was right, they were cleaning up a big mess with high stakes, and that situation inevitably involved Uncle Charles.

“You ever heard of Gabriella Gerard?” Sawyer asked.

“Can’t say that I have.”

“She was a D.C. legend, infamous around the town. Nobody knew where she came from, but everyone agreed she could have launched a thousand ships with one crook of her baby finger.

Word on the street is that she had affairs with some very powerful men. She accepted their gifts and their money, used their stock tips to get rich. She apparently squirreled away their secrets in a tell-all diary. And then she died. And the diary is nowhere to be found, neither is her daughter Niki.”

“I take it Charles is featured in the diary?” Dylan guessed.

“And the daughter is featured in Colorado, in Lyndon Valley to be precise, in hiding.”

“Is she Charles’ daughter?”

“No chance of that. The dates were way off.” Plus, Sawyer now knew she was Wilton Terrell’s daughter.

Dylan gave a single nod of understanding, peeling at the corner of the beer label with his thumb. “You’re here to get the diary.”

Sawyer responded with a mock toast. “Indeed, I am. Charles would prefer his wife not find out he cheated.”

“Understandable.”

“He’d also prefer the Elections Commission not know about certain campaign contributions.”

“Also understandable.” Dylan took a swig of his beer.

“And he’d prefer to be the guy who learns everyone else’s secrets, instead of the other way around. Whoever gets their hands on that diary will own the district.”

“That all sounds like the Charles we know and love.”

Sawyer silently agreed. He’d never had much time for the games played in D.C. politics, but Charles lived and breathed it. And he’d certainly done well by the family by being tapped in.

“This Niki might have plans of her own,” Dylan noted.

“I expect she does. If she’s anything like Gabriella, there’s every chance she’s planning some sophisticated blackmail scheme.”

“So, here you sit,” said Dylan. “Her brand-new, innocuous, cowboy neighbor, without a single, visible tie to D.C.”

“That’s the plan. Though we’ve hit a snag.”

“Already?” Dylan glanced pointedly at his watch. “Is that a record?”

Sawyer ignored the man’s sarcasm. “Those Terrell brothers I mentioned? Caleb and Reed. Successful men, smart from what I can see, a reasonable level of power on their own, particularly Caleb. It turns out, they really are her brothers, her half brothers, Gabriella was sleeping with more than just D.C. power brokers.”

“Do the brothers know she’s in hiding?”

“Haven’t yet figured that out,” Sawyer admitted. Though he was leaning toward them not knowing. “They didn’t seem particularly suspicious or jumpy. They were happy to welcome me, feed me a burger.”

Dylan rested one booted ankle on the opposite one. “So, what’s your next move?”

Sawyer took another mouthful of the crisp beer, letting it slide its way down his throat. “Get to know them. See if I can find a way in. Getting her to confide in me would be best.”

“Is she plain? Is she mousy?” Dylan gave him a critical once-over. “You’re a decent-looking guy, maybe you can romance the information out of her.”

“She’s a bombshell. At least, she was in D.C. She’s downplaying it out here. But I’m sure she still has plenty of offers.” It occurred to Sawyer that one of the resident Colorado cowboys might already have his eye on her. That would add yet another barrier.

“Might be your best bet,” said Dylan.

Sawyer frowned at his friend. Romancing a woman to get information from her? “That’s pretty callous, even for a guy with my genetic make-up.”

“Plus, if she’s a knockout, what chance would you have?”

Sawyer gave a snort. “I can get dates.”

“Sure, in D.C., where they know you’re a Layton. I’m talkin’ about out here, on your own, where women don’t know you’re a rich, connected guy.”

“I’m not worried.”

Not that he had any immediate interest in testing the theory with Niki or anyone else. His only goal was the diary. That would be his laser focus.

Niki knew she had to come clean with her brothers. She couldn’t fool herself any longer, pretending it was okay to keep such an important secret. Though her mother would turn over in her grave at the thought of Niki taking such an unnecessary risk. In fact, Niki could actually hear Gabriella’s voice inside her head, calling her a fool for giving up her advantage.

“Shut up,” she said out loud, briskly rubbing her freshly washed hair with a towel.

She tossed the towel on a chair in the corner of the bedroom, then ran a comb through her short hair, scrutinizing herself in the mirror above the dresser as she worked. She had to admit, this was the easiest cut she’d ever worn. A quick comb through, and it dried on its own. It was just wavy enough to have body, but stayed pretty much in place through humidity or rain showers.

She stepped into a pair of comfortable jeans, then slipped her arms into a flannel shirt. She didn’t even bother with a bra or socks. The lifestyle in Lyndon Valley was exceedingly casual.

The weather was sultry warm tonight, so she knew she’d find Caleb, Mandy, Reed and Katrina relaxing on the back deck.

If Caleb and Mandy were lucky, little Asher would be asleep, and there’d be time for an iced tea and some adult conversation. The river would rush by, and the crickets would chirp, and the scent of pine would flow down from the hillsides. On nights like this, Niki couldn’t seem to imagine going home.

As the picture bloomed in her mind, her resolve to come clean began to waver. Maybe the confession could wait. After all, it had been three months already, what was another few days or weeks?

She had a deep-down fear of being rejected by her brothers, and she hadn’t formulated a plan of what she’d do if Reed and Caleb kicked her out. Returning to D.C. and resuming her studies at GW was out of the question.

She was genuinely afraid of the men who saw her as a potential blackmailer. Not that she’d even think of blackmailing anyone. Even if she needed the money, she’d never commit a crime. And she would have happily told them all that—if she’d had any earthly idea of who they were. She remembered a few first names, but otherwise her mother had kept her romantic entanglements to herself and never shared the details with Niki. Perhaps her mom had been trying to protect her even then?