A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by Joan Johnston

“A mix of business associates and family. James has told them about your temporary memory loss. They’re a tough crowd, but they won’t bite you. At least not in front of James.” He spoke in a low tone only I could hear.

  “I’ll have something to look forward to then,” I murmured.

  When he chuckled, I felt some of my tension ease. And in spite of my earlier resolve that I should steer clear of Sloan, I was grateful for his presence at my side as he urged me toward the first group of people.

  I recognized the man from the photos Pepper had included in her report even as Sloan said, “This is your cousin, Austin, and his fiancée, Marcie Linton.”

  They made a striking couple, I thought. The tall blond Austin was the perfect foil for the petite and perky brunette. In stature and appearance, Austin took after his mother with his fair complexion, finely chiseled features and pale blue eyes. He looked like a cross between a Viking and a surfer.

  According to Pepper, he had the reputation of a playboy and he gambled. In response to Sloan’s introduction, he raised his glass in a toast. “Long time, no see, cousin. Congratulations. Uncle James has killed the fatted calf for you.”

  Marcie Linton sent him a quick frown. Austin didn’t look overly happy to see me. Recalling Pepper’s report, I thought I knew why. In my absence, he’d stepped into my shoes, and he probably wasn’t too keen on stepping back out of them.

  In response to Marcie’s frown, he merely shrugged and took another sip of his drink. Marcie Linton was small, and she was even prettier than she’d been in her photos. Her slender body was encased in an ivory-colored linen dress, the perfect contrast to the jet-black hair that fell straight from a center part to below her shoulders and set off her delicate bone structure and porcelain-fair skin. Pepper had said that Cameron had hired her on as her personal assistant, and that when she and Austin had met, it had been love at first sight.

  Giving up on Austin, Marcie sent me an apologetic smile and took my free hand in hers. “Don’t pay Austin any heed. In your absence, your father has asked him to fill in for you, and he’s done quite well. One of our new clients is here tonight—the Radcliffs.” She gestured toward the far end of the room where James was seated in his wheelchair. “Austin signed them last week. I’ve assured him that you’ll continue to need his help, at least until you’re up to speed. Perhaps you could even put in a good word with your father.”

  “Sis, this isn’t the time to talk business.” I turned to face the man who’d joined us. His resemblance to Marcie was striking. He was taller, but under six feet. His features were more chiseled, the line of his chin stronger. His photos hadn’t done him justice, either. In person, Hal Linton reminded me of George Clooney, one cool charmer. I must have been staring because I didn’t realize that he’d taken my hand from Marcie’s until he raised it to his lips. “Welcome home, Cameron.”

  Sloan’s grip on my elbow tightened fractionally. “This is Marcie’s brother, Hal.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Hal said as he finally released my hand.

  The use of the singular pronoun had me wondering. I could sense undercurrents. Sloan was annoyed and Hal was aware of it. Did the two men have some history? Had Hal used the singular— “I’ve missed you”—just to tick Sloan off, or did his use of it mean that he’d had some sort of relationship with Cameron?

  Or was my imagination merely running wild again?

  “I think we’d better talk to James,” Sloan said and drew me away.

  As we started down the length of the room, I said to Sloan in a low voice, “I thought my father said he was inviting the family. Who are all these people?”

  When he replied, Sloan’s voice was barely audible. “The older couple at the drink cart are the Lakewoods. They’ve done business with James ever since he took over the place from his father. The woman next to them is their daughter Rachel who is concerned about who will run the place after James. The Bolands haven’t arrived yet. They have similar concerns and James will hold dinner for them.”

  I wanted to ask why James had invited these business associates, but Sloan continued, “The younger couple standing near your father are Jane and Sandy Radcliff.”

  I studied them. They must have been in their midthirties. “They breed horses in Texas, and thanks to you, they’re interested in having us train three of their new colts. In your absence, Austin has done the paperwork, but you’re responsible for bringing them on board.” So Marcie hadn’t told me the whole truth.

  “Then I’m good at what I do?”

  He glanced down at me. “You have a knack with people, and you have a lot of plans for expanding McKenzie Enterprises. The older man standing behind James’s wheelchair is Doc Carter. He’s widowed now, and he has a house within walking distance on the estate. He’s been the family doctor ever since I can remember.”

  Doc Carter hadn’t been in Pepper’s report so I studied him now. He was medium height with a portly build and he wore wire-framed glasses. His mustache and the hair he had left were white. And when he threw back his head and laughed at something James said, he reminded me a bit of Santa Claus.

  “James trusts him implicitly,” Sloan was saying.

  Who wouldn’t trust Santa Claus, I thought.

  “He and your mother traveled the year she was carrying you, and they took Doc Carter and his wife along. Lucky thing because you arrived a month early, and he had to make all the arrangements in a hospital in Switzerland.”

  As Sloan’s words sank in, I very nearly stumbled. “I was born in Switzerland?”

  “Yes. You were about a month old when they brought you back.”

  My head was spinning. Was it possible that Cameron had been passed off as James’s biological daughter? Didn’t anyone here know that Cameron was adopted? Then I did stumble.

  “Are you all right?” Sloan asked.

  “Yes,” I lied. My mind had jumped ahead to another explanation. What if Cameron hadn’t been adopted? What if she and I were both James McKenzie’s daughters—only I had been given up for adoption?

  And that was ridiculous. My imagination really did run wild at times. Pepper had discovered adoption papers for both of us. Still…it would make a great story line for Secrets.

  But this new information did leave open the possibility that no one besides James knew that Cameron was adopted.

  “The woman to James’s left is—”

  “Is my aunt Beatrice,” I finished for him. The Snow Queen. “I met her when I arrived this morning.”

  Tonight, she wore a powdery-blue dress, outdated in its design. The filmy material flowed around her and I was once more reminded of a Tennessee Williams heroine—fragile, lovely, but clinging to a bygone day. But when she took my hand, I discovered her grip was surprisingly hard, and I recalled my earlier impression that she had strength that didn’t appear on the surface.

  “Welcome back, Cameron.” Beatrice’s voice was as ethereal as her appearance, and once more I couldn’t read anything in her expression.

  “Isn’t it about time you paid your old father some attention, gal?” When I turned, James took my free hand and tugged it. With a smile, I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

  “James has told us what happened to you,” Jane Radcliff said. “It must have been horrible to wake up in a strange place and not know who you are.”

  I met her eyes and smiled. Of all the strangers I’d met since I’d walked into the room, I sensed that she was sincere.

  “Odd to think that you don’t remember us,” her husband, Sandy, said. “You’re the reason that we decided to join forces with McKenzie Enterprises.”

  “She’ll be up to speed in no time,” James assured them.

  “It’s a miracle that she’s back with us,” Doc Carter commented. “Memory loss, even the kind that’s caused by sudden trauma, can last for a long time. You look none the worse for wear,” Doc Carter said. “But James wants me to see you tomorrow and check you out for myself.”

  I opened my mouth to pro
test, but Doc Carter continued. “It’ll set James’s mind at ease.”

  “Fine,” I reluctantly agreed.

  “The Bolands are late as usual,” James said. “Sloan, while we’re waiting, why don’t you take Cameron for a stroll in the gardens? Maybe something there will trigger a memory.”

  I glanced at Sloan. “I’m sure he’d rather stay here.”

  “Nonsense,” James declared. “He’s wanted to get you alone since he brought you here. Beatrice and I can hold down the fort until dinner is served. Go.” He shooed us with his hands. “You’ve been away from each other for over a month. You need some time alone together.”

  Chapter 7

  Sloan took my hand and led me through the nearest set of French doors. Once we’d crossed the terrace and started down the short flight of stairs to the garden, I asked, “Does my father always order people around like that?”

  “Yeah.”

  I shot him a sideways glance. “You don’t impress me as a man who’s easily ordered around.”

  “I learned a long time ago to pick and choose my battles with James.” When we reached the bottom of the steps, he guided me along a flagstone path which wound its way through a garden that had been laid out with meticulous care. Flowers of every color and size bordered the path, and their scents floated on the early-evening air.

  “There are times when I go to the mat with him.”

  “Who wins?”

  After a moment, he said, “Usually, I do. James is a smart man. He knows that when we disagree, there’s a good reason, and he listens to what I have to say.”

  “Did he and Cameron butt heads often?”

  He glanced at me then, and I could have sworn that there was a mocking glint in his eye.

  “What?”

  “It’s odd hearing you refer to yourself in the third person.”

  He was sharp. I’d have to remember that. “I feel strange when I try to think of myself as Cameron McKenzie. It’s going to take some getting used to.”

  Sloan steered me toward a wrought iron bench at the edge of the path. “We’ll take a longer stroll another night when your ankle’s had time to heal.”

  I started to protest, but he merely said, “Sit.”

  “You’re as bad as my father is.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.” He smiled as he sat down beside me, and I found myself wanting to smile back. Though I wouldn’t call him charming, I was discovering that Sloan Campbell could be very disarming.

  “Thank you for your help back there. It was…kind of you to fill me in on everyone.”

  “No problem.”

  I was very aware of the fact that Sloan had placed his arm along the back of the bench and that we were sitting close enough so that I could feel the heat of his body. As much to distract myself from that as out of curiosity, I asked, “Why was Dad so anxious to get us out of there?”

  “The way I see it he’s trying to accomplish three things at once. First, he’s aware that tonight is a strain for you—meeting all these people that you don’t remember.”

  His tone was neutral and he didn’t look at me, but I sensed that he wasn’t quite buying that yet.

  “He’s also showing the family and a select group of business associates that everything is back to normal on the McKenzie Ranch. Cameron has returned, and the engagement is right back on track.”

  “The engagement? You mean ours?” I could hear a thread of panic in my voice.

  Sloan shifted that intent gaze of his to mine and studied me for a moment. “Yes, our engagement. James’s health has deteriorated in the past year. His heart attack last winter gave everyone a scare, and his arthritis is causing him to use his wheelchair more frequently.”

  “But the engagement is not back on track. Not really. I don’t remember you.”

  “Enter Doc Carter. He’s here tonight to assure everyone that he’s going to work with you on recovering your memory. I imagine James will be emphasizing that while we’re out here. By morning, the Lakewoods and the Bolands will be spreading the word to others.”

  I thought about it for a minute. “You said Dad was trying to accomplish three things at once. He doesn’t want the evening to be too stressful for me, and he wants to reassure business associates. What’s the third reason?”

  “I suspect he’s doing a bit of matchmaking.”

  I frowned at him. “Hasn’t he already done that? We’re engaged.”

  “But you don’t remember me. James is providing us, not too subtly, with an opportunity to get reacquainted, Red. He’s a master at manipulating people.”

  I was once more aware of how close we were on the bench. I could smell him above the scent of the flowers—soap and sun and something more elemental and very male.

  I had to clear my throat. “And you’re willing to go along with that even though you don’t trust me?”

  He raised his hand and touched the ends of my hair. “I told you the jury’s still out on the trust issue. Has anyone ever told you that you have honest eyes?”

  “No.” I barely got the word out. Every cell in my body was aware of his fingers as he tucked the strand of hair he held behind my ear. He was so close now that I could see his eyes were darker. They didn’t remind me so much of fog as of the kind of dark-colored smoke that shoots up from a fire, and I found myself wondering what it would be like if he really touched me. I imagined the brush of those fingertips and the press of that hard palm against my shoulder, my arms, my…

  I managed to clamp down on the images moving through my mind, but I couldn’t prevent the arousal that started deep and spread as quickly as the ripples a stone would cause when it was tossed into a pond.

  I drew in a deep breath and let it out, wishing I could just as easily get rid of the heat that was flooding through me. I reminded myself of my mission. James might have had his agenda for sending Sloan and me into the garden, but he’d also given me an opportunity that I couldn’t afford to ignore. “Why did I run away?”

  Sloan studied me for a minute.

  “Or why do you think I ran away?”

  “The usual reason. You needed time to think.”

  “About what? Was I having second thoughts about the wedding?”

  “Perhaps.”

  I couldn’t read anything in his expression. He was still playing with the ends of my hair.

  “Were you worried that I’d change my mind?”

  “No. The whole wedding thing was your idea. You proposed to me.”

  That was news. “Dad said we argued the night before I went away. What about?”

  Once again, he hesitated for just a beat. “If I told you, you’d only have my version. I think you should wait until you get your memory back.”

  Once again, I caught something in his eyes—just a hint of mockery. “You don’t think I really lost my memory, do you?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind that you’re faking it.” He hadn’t dropped his hand from my hair, and he seemed to be even closer. I had to struggle to keep my voice steady. “Why do you think that Cameron—that I would come back here faking memory loss?”

  “It all goes back to why you ran away in the first place. As I said, my best guess was that you were having second thoughts about the wedding. You needed some time alone to think, so you took off. The memory loss story gives you a chance to come back without having to admit that you ran away. You always hated to admit you were wrong, or worse still, make a fool of yourself.”

  The fact that he could believe my sister capable of such duplicity intrigued me. Might I have tried the same kind of masquerade in her situation? Then it occurred to me. Wasn’t the impersonation I was engaged in just as daring? Perhaps Cameron and I weren’t as different as I’d originally thought.

  “Would I really do something like that?”

  “Oh, yes. You like to play games, and you always like to win.”

  As he continued to play with the ends of my hair, I realized that the bigger question was
why would any woman be having second thoughts about marrying a man like Sloan Campbell? Or was I just blinded by the fact that I was so attracted to him?

  “You know me very well then?”

  “I’ve known you pretty much all your life. I was born and raised here. My mother died when I was a baby. My father had the same job that I do now—he was James’s right-hand man running the stables and training horses. They were best friends until my father ran away with James’s first wife, Sarah.”

  Pepper had written briefly about this story in her report, but it was different hearing it from Sloan. I found my heart going out to the little boy. I reached out and took his hand. “How old were you?”

  “Two. But you needn’t feel sorry for me. James never harbored any resentment against me. He took me in and raised me as if I were his own. He remarried two years later, and you were born two years after that.”

  I did the math quickly in my head. Sloan was about six years older than I was. That made him thirty-one.

  “What happened? Did your father ever contact you?”

  Sloan shook his head. “James hired a P.I. to trace them, but he wasn’t successful. My guess is that he wasn’t much interested in tracking them down. I hired a P.I. five years ago to look into it, but the trail was cold by then.”

  I continued to study him. There was so much I wanted to know. I wanted to ask him why he’d left the ranch five years ago, but I wouldn’t have any way of knowing about that. The memory loss thing was tricky—especially with someone who thought I might be faking it.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Sloan said.

  When I didn’t immediately answer, he ran the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ll share mine for free. I’ve been thinking of how soft your mouth is.”

  His gesture and the words had my mouth trembling, and I felt a flare of something deep inside me that was raw and stunning. He was going to kiss me.

  I should have said something. There were so many reasons for not kissing Sloan again, I could have made a list. But right now I couldn’t seem to summon up even one reason, not while his breath whispered over my skin, not while those dark eyes were looking into mine.