by Robyn Carr
Sophie felt weak in the knees. A rickety folding chair stood not far away. She backed up quickly and dropped into it.
Willa Tweed watched her through glittering ice blue eyes. “So, I can see that the anagram got past you. And it appears that Sin has told you virtually nothing.”
“I don’t—”
“Let me fully enlighten you.”
“No, I—”
The woman ignored Sophie’s weak protest and continued right on. “About six months ago, Sin saw some notice—in the San Francisco Chronicle, I believe it was, though I can’t be sure. He takes a lot of newspapers. He finds potential properties in them.”
Right then Tom, the black cat, poked his head through the split in the curtains that led to the outside doors. He let out a small, curious “Mnneow?”
Willa glanced back briefly, saw it was only a cat, and then turned on Sophie once more. “But I’m getting off the point, which is that Sin found a for-sale notice about the former Riker Ranch in that paper. And from then on, he was a man obsessed. He wanted that land back.”
Sophie’s mind seemed to be working way too slowly. She asked idiotically, “He…wanted it back?”
The woman let out a delicate little grunt. “That’s what I said. He wanted it back. So he got his people on it.”
“His people?”
“Oh, come on. You understand. He has people who work for him, people whose job it is to investigate any property that catches his interest. In the case of this ranch, his people found that the only problem was you. Somehow you had managed to get yourself a lease on five acres of this place. Sin didn’t like that at all. He wanted to know more about you—about how you were going to take it when he told you he wanted to terminate that lease. So he investigated further. He had a detective service following you around for six weeks.”
The idea made Sophie’s stomach roil: someone, some total stranger, had watched her go about her life for a month and a half. How could that have been? “No…”
“Yes. He learned that you were very…attached to the little enterprise you’ve created here. And that it would probably be difficult to get rid of you until your lease was up. Which would be another ten years. But Sin didn’t care. He bought the property anyway, a very low-key acquisition through intermediaries. He used a San Francisco bank to handle the whole transaction so that, until he was ready to approach you with his offer, you’d know next to nothing about the new owner.”
Tom strolled up to Willa and began rubbing at her ankles. She delicately kicked him away. The cat moved on to Sophie, jumping onto her lap. Sophie absently stroked his warm fur. The purring started, a warm, friendly sound—in direct contrast to the frosty blue of Willa Tweed’s eyes.
Willa went on. “Sin finds that works quite well—to come in with the deed in his hand and all the leverage he can muster lined up behind him. Then he makes his offer. And the smart ones take what he offers.”
Sophie held Tom tighter. The cat purred louder.
Willa asked, “Shall I tell you what happens if they don’t take his offer?”
Right then, the curtain to the concession area stirred again. Sinclair stepped through it.
Sophie’s hold on Tom loosened. The cat slipped lightly to the floor and sauntered off toward the rows of seats. Sophie watched him go. So much easier to watch the cat than to look at Willa Tweed—or to meet the dark burning eyes of the man by the curtain.
Willa must have turned and seen Sinclair. Sophie heard her hard laugh. “Sin, darling. Come join us. I was just explaining the facts of life to your sweet little girlfriend here.”
When Sinclair didn’t reply, Willa laughed again. “Well, it may be the middle of August, but I do believe I detect a certain chill in the air.”
Tom disappeared down a row of seats. Sophie made herself look at Willa again. The dark-haired woman faced away, toward the man by the curtains to the concession stand. Her back was very straight and proud.
“I suppose it’s time I was leaving,” Willa said.
Sinclair moved clear of the curtains as Willa started his way. Just before she went through, she turned once more to Sinclair. “I do believe you’re sorry enough—now.”
Sinclair said flatly, “Goodbye, Willa.”
“Yes,” Willa replied. “I would say that’s exactly the word for it.” She pushed the curtain aside and stepped through.
Chapter 10
Once Willa was gone, Sophie stayed in her chair, not moving, for a very long time. And Sinclair just stood there, near the last row of seats, as silent as she was.
Finally she made herself look at him, made herself ask in a voice that came out all weak and whispery, “Are you engaged to her?”
He met her gaze, unwavering. “I was.”
“Until when?”
“She broke it off a couple of weeks ago.”
“She said otherwise. She said you were still her fiancé.”
“Then she lied.”
Hope kindled in Sophie then, a hot, hungry little flame. Maybe it was all a lie, all those awful things the woman had said….
But, no. How could Willa have known the name of the faceless corporation that owned the ranch now—unless Inkerris and Sin Riker were one and the same? Beyond that, there were all the details of his life that he hadn’t told her. And most damning of all was Sinclair himself, standing there, looking so bleak, his expression telling Sophie better than words ever could that at least some of what Willa had said was true.
Sophie straightened in the chair, ordered some volume into her voice. “She also said that you are Inkerris, Incorporated. That you own the Riker Ranch now, that you came here with the intention of manipulating me into giving up my lease.”
Tom appeared again, sidling up to Sinclair. Sinclair bent and lifted him into those strong arms. The cat immediately started purring. Sophie could hear it clearly from all the way over in her chair.
“Is it true, Sinclair? Is that really why you came here?”
He let the cat down. “Yes.”
The single word pierced her like a blade to the heart. “Oh, Sin…” She heard herself call him by that name for the first time. And realized that it fit him. “Five days. Five whole days. We’ve been together every moment we could. You never told me. You never said a word.”
She waited for him to explain. For him to simply say that he didn’t tell her of his schemes because he couldn’t figure out how to do it without running the risk of losing her.
Which was nothing but the truth.
However, the truth, at that point, wasn’t good enough for Sin.
He stood at the top of the aisle in Sophie’s barn theater, looking into her wide, wounded eyes and he knew that the time for explanations had passed. At that moment, Sin Riker hated being inside his own skin.
“Please,” she said in a broken voice. “Tell me. Explain to me why you—”
He put up a hand. “Sophie, it’s no good.”
“What?” Those innocent eyes pleaded with his. “No good? What’s no good?”
“You know.”
“No. I…I want to understand. I want you to tell me—”
“There’s nothing to tell. Nothing that will make any difference. We’re…night and day, you and me. And everything we had was based on lies. My lies.”
“No. Don’t say that. In your heart, you—”
“Sophie. Face it. It’s just no good. Look at you. You pass out bag lunches to the homeless.”
“So?”
“Sophie, I have never given anything away in my life.”
“But…you had to fight, I understand that. You had nothing. And you had to make a place for yourself in the world.”
He shook his head. “Look at you. Sitting there defending me. I don’t deserve defending, Sophie.”
She raised her chin, did her best to look defiant. “I believe you do.”
“You want to believe. But believing won’t change the facts. Maybe it’s time you heard the truth. Maybe it’s time I made it cle
ar what I had in mind for you.”
He could see the denial in her eyes, he could read her so well by then. Not if it’s ugly, she was thinking. Not if it’s cruel.
He goaded her. “Are you ready for the truth, Sophie?”
She pressed her lips together, looked away. Then she drew in a breath and faced him once more. “Yes. All right. Tell me the truth.”
And he did, in a voice without expression. “The truth is, I was going to destroy you if I had to.” He began walking toward her. “If you had refused my offer, you were going to find yourself in a world of woe trying to run this place.”
She watched him advance, shaking her head. “No, you couldn’t have. You wouldn’t have.”
He kept coming until he stood right in front of her, looking down. “Oh, yes, I would. I’ve done it before. And I’ve done it often.”
She swallowed, eyes wide as saucers now, staring up at him as if he frightened her. “Driven people out, you mean?”
He nodded. “I’ve become quite…skilled at it, over the years.”
Her sweet mouth was trembling. “You sound like you’re proud of it.”
He shrugged. “It’s just the way the world works.”
“No. Not always. Sometimes—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Sophie, you’re an innocent.” He touched her cheek. It was soft and warm as a peach in the sun. She held very still. She endured his caress. He dropped his hand away, stepped back just a fraction. “It’s the way my world works.”
“But not mine.”
“My point exactly. Your world and my world. Night and day. Shadow and light. They don’t exist in the same space. They never have and they never will.”
“People can change, Sinclair.”
“Please. Call me Sin. Everyone does—and do you want to hear the rest or not?”
She drew her shoulders back again. “Yes. All right. Tell me the rest.”
He began where he’d left off. “Here, it would have started with a fence.”
She frowned. “A fence?”
“Around the five acres you’re leasing, to keep you and all your guests off the rest of my land. You see, I know you depend on the use of the whole ranch, to make sure those horses you board get the exercise their owners pay you for.
“Second, I would have built another house. Right on the other side of that fence I just mentioned. Construction can be so loud, Sophie. Your guests wouldn’t have liked it at all.
“And then, there’s this ‘theater’ of yours. I believe certain zoning regulations are being stretched here. I would have made sure those regulations were strictly enforced—” he gestured at the battered seats, the torn theater screen “—which would have shut this part of your operation down, I’m afraid.
“And do you know what it’s like to have the health department after you? To have inspectors paying you regular visits, harassing Myra in her run-down kitchen, just on the off chance that your facilities aren’t as clean as they ought to be? And what about that damn campground? I know that some of the kids you let stay there have to be runaways. And who knows what they’re carrying in those dirty bedrolls. I would have had the police on them, shaking them down. You would have taken some heat, I’m afraid, if any of them were underage or carrying drugs.”
She fidgeted, making the folding chair creak. And once again, she couldn’t stop herself from defending him. “But, Sin, you didn’t do any of those things. You didn’t do anything at all, except share five perfect nights with me.”
“Sophie. The point is, I have done all those things before. And I would do them to you. If you refused my offer. Because that’s who I am, Sophie. That’s how I operate. It’s all strictly legal. It’s all aboveboard. It’s what I have every right to do. But what someone like you would never do. Because you’ve got too damn much heart.”
“But…you’ve changed. If you were like that, you’re not like that anymore.”
“Sophie. You are impossible. Not only an innocent, but a romantic, as well. I’m the same man I always was. And whatever this thing is between us, it couldn’t last. Frankly, as a general rule, innocence bores me. And romance, as far as I’m concerned, is for starry-eyed fools.”
Sophie stared up at him. She yearned to keep arguing with him, keep on defending him.
But it was painfully clear he didn’t want to be defended.
And her doubts kept crowding in, reminding her that he had never once said he loved her, though she’d declared her own love repeatedly. That he really had lied to her from the very first.
Five whole days. That was the simple truth. Five whole days in which he had constantly misled her, in which he hadn’t uttered a single word about his real aim in coming to the Mountain Star.
Sin could see those doubts in her eyes. He understood that he had lost her—and knew that it was no more than he deserved. “Listen,” he heard himself say. “I have a deal for you.”
Sophie closed her eyes. He could see it was all too much for her. She needed time to absorb what he’d told her, time to figure out what to do.
He gave her no time. “Sophie, look at me.”
She opened her eyes. He had never seen her look so weary. “What deal?”
“You stay current on your lease and things will go on here just as they have been. You can pass out free lunches for the next decade—and more. I’ll see to it.” The words came out of his mouth without him even knowing he would say them. But once they were out, he knew he would abide by them. “Goodbye, Sophie.”
He turned on his heel and headed for the door. Behind him, he heard her cry out softly, “Wait…”
He paused, fool that he was, and turned around again. She had risen to her feet.
She took a step toward him. “Tonight. We were going to talk tonight. Would you have told me all this then?”
The fool inside him sang out, Yes! Everything. I meant to tell it all.
Sin ordered the fool to silence, and asked coldly, “What does it matter?”
“I…it would be something.”
“Innocent,” he said, infusing the word with all the considerable cynicism at his command. “That’s what you are.”
“Please. I just want to know. Did you plan to tell me tonight?”
He hesitated on the verge of the truth, but finally answered, “No.” Another lie. The kindest one, really.
After all, he had planned to get rid of her. And then, once he’d met her, over and over he had planned to tell her the truth. He had never done either. So what did his intentions really mean in the end?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Oh.” Her whole sweet body seemed to droop. “I see.”
He turned again. And went through the curtain, the desperate fool inside him hoping against hope that she’d call him back once more.
But she said nothing. And so he kept on walking, across the plank floor of her makeshift lobby and out the open barn doors.
Back where he’d left her, Sophie stood listening. She heard Sin’s footsteps retreating. And then she heard nothing except the birds singing outside, and that pigeon she could never get rid of, suddenly taking flight up there in the rafters over her head.
She remembered the projector.
She’d been trying to fix it.
She turned and went to the ladder, started to climb. Halfway up, she stopped. She wanted to be outside. She needed to be outside. The projector would just have to wait.
Carefully, she descended. She felt so…slow suddenly. Like someone trying to walk through deep water. Or someone very old and frail.
Outside, the sun shone down and a gentle breeze stirred the pines, making them whisper and sigh to each other, a sound she’d always loved, a sound that had always created a sensation of lightness inside her.
Now she didn’t feel light. She felt heavy. Numb. She walked under the rows of maples, past the stables. Skirting the lawns of the main house, she moved into the shadows of the oak grove, passing th
rough it and then out—across the open pasture, and down to the creek. To the special place. Their special place, hers and Sinclair’s.
Sin.
He had told her to call him Sin.
“I don’t know you,” he’d said that first night.
“You know me,” she had replied. And he had. He had known so much about her. He had paid to learn about her; he’d had her followed for six weeks. Someone had been watching her. Some detective, keeping tabs on her, recording all the details of her life.
Sophie shivered at the thought. She sat on that big dark rock that stuck out into the stream—the rock on which he had kissed her, where she had pleaded with him to come to her bed—and she shivered through her numbness.
“You know me,” she had told him.
And he had.
It was she who had not known him.
And that woman. That awful, cold woman: Willa Tweed.
Sin had said he didn’t love that woman. Yet he had once meant to marry her. They must have shared something together—desire, perhaps. No doubt Sin must have wanted Willa Tweed once.
Just as he had wanted Sophie.
Sophie rubbed her hands down her shivery arms. Romantic, he had called her. As if it were an insult. And an innocent.
Well, maybe she was. An innocent romantic.
But surely, after what had happened today, she’d never be quite so naive or sentimental again.
She’d been right to let him go, she was sure of it. Because he’d been right. In the end, they were much too different from each other. It couldn’t have lasted.
She understood that now.
He had said she could keep the Mountain Star.
Could she really believe that?
Time would tell. She’d go on as she always had. And if he came back with his offer to buy out her lease, well, she’d deal with that when the time came. At least now she understood completely what would happen if she refused.
Sophie lay back on the rock. It was a hard bed, but she didn’t expect comfort right then. She closed her eyes, listened to the water rushing, the birds singing their midday songs, and wished she could just stay numb forever.