by Molly Liholm
He’d learned his lesson from Allison and planned his life accordingly. When necessary he would come to the aid of his family. Even Allison. Unfortunately, their divorce hadn’t lessened her reliance on him. But he didn’t have to be involved in their messy, draining lives on a day-to-day basis. He liked being alone. Sometimes he wished for more, but it didn’t seem to be in the fates for him. The kind of woman he always fell for was a needy kook. Meg. He couldn’t change his nature, it seemed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn from his mistakes. He was going to remember every lesson Allison and his family had taught him, and stay as far away from Meg as possible.
Because deep inside he knew that Megan Cooper would be even worse than Allison for his control and his peace of mind. If she caught hold of his heart, she’d be able to keep it.
But he was curious about her—she was such an odd contradiction, one minute capable of saving his life, understanding the intricacies of computer forgery, and then saying silly things like that three-kisses-and-we’ll-be-lovers statement. He wasn’t going to kiss her again, but he couldn’t help asking, “Did you have the same feelings for your ex-fiancé, what’s-his-name?”
She was looking at him curiously, and silently he cursed himself for showing any interest. He had to remember not to offer her any encouragement. He remained quiet as Meg frowned, wrinkling her brow as she thought about her ex-fiancé,
“His name is Max and, no, I never did have these immediate... overwhelming feelings for him. Which is probably why it never worked out for us. Neither of us was overcome by passion. Our relationship seemed so practical, it made so much sense that everyone thought we’d be very happy together, including us for a while, but... He married someone else. A woman he felt that overwhelming, complete passion for.” Suddenly Meg’s face cleared and she smiled at him. “I’m glad you helped me see that.” She looked him over and then cocked her head. “Did your ex-wife really hurt you so much that you’re not even willing to give us a chance?”
“There is no us,” he muttered between clenched teeth. The woman was even sillier and more ridiculous than he’d given her demerit points for being.
“Oh.” She moved away from him and looked around her kitchen, as if searching for an answer. She folded some tea towels and then looked out the window at the red rocks. He waited in silence, fully expecting her to continue with her crazy theory. Finally she turned. “You’re wrong about us, but you probably need some time. And since you’re not willing to talk about who you think you’re after, how about going shopping?
“Shopping?” Another silly female hobby—he should have known.
“Yes. You need clothes so you can move around town. While we’re at it, you can check out the natives, investigate whatever it is that you’re not telling me. We women call it shopping.”
She was right. He was a big enough man to be able to admit when the other person had a point.
He needed to go shopping.
“FREDDIE, I’D LIKE YOU to meet Adam Smith, my former fiancé.” Meg introduced him to the tall, elegant man. Dressed in gray linen pants and a white cotton shirt, with a discreet silver bracelet, Freddie put down his jeweler’s loupe and rose to shake Adam’s hand. His grip was strong but not overwhelming like Michelle’s.
“The man who left you at the altar?” Freddie raised an eyebrow and surveyed Adam from head to toe.
“Meg has exaggerated slightly,” Adam clarified for the dozenth time that afternoon. He had enough clothing to keep him going for weeks, but the shopping excuse was an excellent way to make the acquaintance of much of the town. Whoever he was searching for had to work in a business that brought him or her—Adam was an equal-opportunity investigator—into contact with the public as a cover. The buyer of the new identity had to spend a lot of time with the programmer so that they could create the identity the buyer wanted. In other words, a “tourist” needed to be able to spend a lot of time with one of the residents of Sedona. Of course, any business, from that of four-wheel excursions to a jeweler to a hotel, could provide the excuse. The programmer and the buyer could consort together in full public view without anyone thinking anything of it. A clever and well-thought out plan. The person he was after was very smart and ruthless, he reminded himself, picturing Kelly’s bruised and battered body.
Picturesque Sedona in the midst of red rock country attracted tourists and business people alike, Adam had read in the airplane magazine during his flight in. The tourists came to experience the connection to the Old West, to enjoy the beauty of the vistas. To commune with the mysticism that was Sedona, as he had heard over and over again. It also seemed like the last place in the world to run across men and women who needed new identities: drug runners, spies and other scum of the earth.
Instead, all the locals raved over the beauty and magic of the place. And then there were the vortexes. Meg had told him that the psychic Page Bryant in the 1980s had divined four metaphysical vortexes around Sedona. As a result, the New Agers had arrived in droves. Which meant no one seemed odd in Sedona. Adam bet four guys dressed in their best Mafioso pinstripes, shiny ties and violin cases could walk down the main street and no one would blink an eye.
As if to prove how crazy everyone was, Meg had told him about the Harmonic Convergence. In 1987, over five thousand people had come to Bell Rock, expecting to be transported to the galaxy of Andromeda. Adam had only snorted in response, but Meg had continued unabashed. “Sedona does have an unusual feel. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t experienced it the second I came to town. I had no intention of staying here, but shortly after coming to look at the beautiful scenery, to watch the rocks change color from violet to red with the changing light, I knew I couldn’t leave immediately. That this was the place I was going to have my adventure. Although I was beginning to fear I was wrong until you arrived at Abby’s shop on Saturday night. Do you realize we’ve barely known each other for four days, if you include the time you were unconscious, and I feel like I’ve known you forever and my life has completely changed?”
“You’re nuts,” Adam couldn’t help saying, but his tone was more amused than harsh, and Meg continued on as if she hadn’t heard his words. He was sorry to hurt her, but she had to stop these ridiculous fantasies of hers. He and she were not going to end up together. While he might like to take her to bed and give her a mystical experience, he wasn’t going to touch even one inch of her pretty skin. If he wasn’t careful, Meg could turn into an addiction, and he needed to just say no.
The business people also fell into the mystical category, Adam learned. Aging hippies or daydreamers, these people combined their belief in the forces of the universe with commerce: stores selling everything from mysticism to Levi’s jeans to gourmet sandwiches and cakes. Plus, there were lots of artists. In the small town there were over three hundred professional artists as well as about fifty galleries. Moreover, Meg revealed, most of the art was positive. No matter what the artist drew or sculpted or created in any form or fashion, it was fundamentally positive. “It’s because of the vortexes—they exude positive energy. Then again, it could be the sheer beauty of Sedona and the countryside that makes people look for the best.”
“Is that what you do?”
“Yes,” she responded, considering her words. “I wasn’t always like that, I used to be so career driven, but I’ve changed. No matter what happens between us, I’m a different person now. I have Sedona and my friends here to thank for that.”
Naturally, Freddie fit into Sedona, with his jewelry designing and his dapper appearance. Adam continued with his explanation as to why he had arrived in town. “Meg and I agreed before the wedding that we wouldn’t suit”
“But now you’ve discovered the error of your ways and are here to win her back,” Freddie said archly. To Adam’s irritation, the man took Meg’s hand and kissed it. Freddie was far too elegant and handsome for Adam’s liking. Another damn admirer of Meg.
“He should!” Meg added vehemently. “He broke my heart. The only p
roblem now is that my heart has healed. I don’t know if I want Adam again. He’s going to have to work hard to win me back.”
Freddie looked at Adam with determination. “Well, that is good news. It gives the rest of us men hope.”
Adam stepped closer to Meg and put his arm around her. She leaned into him a little, but didn’t look at him. This afternoon, playing the role of her ex-fiancé had given him lots of chances to touch her. He told himself that it helped establish his cover, and refused to admit how much he liked it. Well, he could admit it, but only to himself. Besides, his attraction to her was only sexual.
“Freddie, you are an awful flirt!” Meg’s voice was coy and teasing, and Adam didn’t like it. “What about that ring you were making for me?”
For a moment, Freddie studied the two of them together and then shrugged his shoulders. “From what little you said about your ex-fiancé, I never imagined the two of you would look so natural together. Maybe Adam will give Reid more of a run for his money than I expected. Now, never mind my blathering—the ring is finished. It’s in the back room. Let me go get it.” He puffed up his chest. “I think you’ll be very pleased.”
As Freddie disappeared through the curtains into the back, Adam noted sourly, “Another of your many lovelorn male friends.”
Meg stepped out of his arms toward one of the counters, studying the earrings in the locked case, not looking at him. “Freddie? Don’t mind him. Abby said there was someone he’d been serious about, but she left. Now he flirts with all the women.”
“How about the men?”
Meg grinned at him. “Tsk, tsk, now you are sounding jealous. Freddie is quite the ladies’ man, but I think he’s taken with Gloria Logan. I don’t know.” Meg’s mouth twisted and her pretty brown eyes filled with concern. “Freddie has good taste, but there’s something about Gloria... Maybe I’m just jealous. She is gorgeous.”
Adam smiled. “Really? Maybe I should meet her.”
Meg punched him hard on his healthy shoulder. “You’re here to court me, not Gloria Logan.”
“What about Reid? When am I going to meet him?”
“You can meet him Thursday night. I’ve been invited for dinner at the ranch.”
“The famous ranch and the famous cowboy. Should be fun. You and Reid. Me and the beautiful Gloria.”
Meg smiled back, barring her teeth. “She’s incredibly beautiful. Angelic, in fact. I’ve seen men walk into walls when she glides by.”
“Not sure I’m into the angelic type.”
“Of course not. They’re boring. You much prefer a woman who can think and take care of herself. A woman who’s not afraid to tell you what she’s feeling.”
“Someone like you?”
“Exactly.” Meg smiled at him with real pleasure, her brown eyes shining, and Adam felt a little click. Oh no, he told his libido. Not his heart—his libido. He wasn’t falling into this trap again. He just enjoyed talking to Meg; she had a quick wit and a goodness that he found appealing. Nothing more. Absolutely nothing.
But after most of the day with Meg, he was becoming curious about her. He knew he was falling into a trap, but suddenly he didn’t want to extricate himself too quickly. Instead, he wanted to get to know Megan Cooper. “When he—your ex-fiancé—left you at the altar—”
“He didn’t exactly leave me at the altar. He told me the morning of—”
“When he told you, were you devastated?” Adam wondered why he wanted to know. He couldn’t feel sorry for her, or wonder what kind of man would have left her at the altar. Wonder if the man had realized he’d made a mistake.
“Yes.” Meg stared at the jewelry counter and then finally at Adam. “I was planning to spend my life with Max. I thought he would make a good husband, and that I would make a good wife to him. When he told me he was in love with someone else, that he was going to marry Emma, of course I was hurt. Badly. I’d suspected that Max and Emma had a past, but I still thought he was going to marry me. Or I did until almost the morning of the wedding.
“That’s why I left. I caught the first plane out of Manhattan and have spent over a year trying to figure out what I want.” She smiled crookedly at her impulsiveness. “I’d always planned out my life so carefully, always had very specific goals, but at the same time I always kept expecting... something...to happen. Something profound that would change my life and me. I finally realized I had to go searching for what I wanted.”
“Which is why you ended up in Sedona?”
“Yes. Sedona just felt...right. Like I was meant to be here.”
“And the adventure?”
“Until you walked through my door, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find it.” Her compelling brown eyes met his and he felt a tug on his heart. No, he told himself. Adam had just opened his mouth to deny that he was her adventure when Freddie walked back in carrying a ring.
Adam recognized the design immediately. It was an exact replica of the ring that had been found on Kelly’s body.
HE WOULD NEVER FORGET how bruised and how small Kelly had looked in the hospital bed. When she’d opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him, he’d felt tears running down his cheeks, over his smile. He hadn’t cried since he was five years old and his father had taught him it wasn’t manly. Kelly had lapsed back into unconsciousness, and Adam and their mother had continued to spend days at the hospital, wishing and waiting for Kelly to wake up. To recover from the coma.
To live.
It had been touch and go. His mother was the one who had been convinced that Kelly would live, that she would recover. When Adam had begun to doubt, it had been his mother’s faith that had kept him returning to the hospital time and time again. Holding Kelly’s hand, talking to her, begging her to open her eyes.
It had been his turn with her when Kelly had finally rejoined the world. She’d then spent weeks recovering, gradually regaining her strength and part of her memory, but to Adam’s frustration, she wouldn’t talk about what had happened to her. Somehow she had made it to the hospital in Queens and collapsed in the emergency room. The only piece of identification Kelly had had on her was her library card, which had led the authorities to their mother.
Adam thought it appropriate that it was Kelly’s library card that had brought her back to her family. As kids, he and Kelly had had little in common except for their love of books. Kelly always enjoyed fairy tales and stories of adventure, and had quickly become an afficionado of fantasy and science fiction—worlds where beautiful princes-sess and noble knights ruled, where right won over might. Adam had been much more interested in how things worked. He enjoyed the real world: history, economics, politics. Their childhood choices had shaped their adult lives.
The doctors guessed that Kelly had been in some kind of accident and the trauma included temporary amnesia. They believed her memory loss would be short-term. But even after some of her memory did return, Kelly wouldn’t reveal what had happened to her.
Adam, however, believed that someone had tried to kill her.
After Kelly recovered and was able to come home to their mother’s house, she was a different person. She spoke very little, only in response to direct questions and then only in monosyllables. Even more than her life-threatening injuries, it was the stealing of his sister’s vitality that sent Adam out on his quest for vengeance. Before her accident, Kelly had sparkled. She’d entered a room and people had responded to her. And she’d talked, incessantly, about everything. About her day, her thoughts, her dreams. Adam usually shut out his sister’s silly, inconsequential chatter, but now he’d give anything to have the old Kelly back.
But Kelly hadn’t come back. She’d returned to consciousness, but then retreated into herself. He could hardly believe it was six months since their mother had taken Kelly home. At first Adam had continued to demand she tell him what had happened to her, who had hurt her, but Kelly had only retreated even more into her shell.
He’d realized he was only making Kelly worse, and had stopped his harassme
nt. Instead, to give his mother a break from the twenty-four-hour nursing routine, he spent two afternoons a week at the old house with his sister. But the sibling he knew and loved wasn’t the one who lived in his mother’s house. For the first time in his life, he and Kelly didn’t talk. He’d tried, but she never responded beyond short answers. Just as disconcerting was the fact that she clearly preferred having someone in the house with her; she was scared to be alone. His anger at whoever had done this to Kelly grew daily, as did his frustration at not being able to do anything for her. He needed to help her, but he had no idea how to begin.
On his last visit, he’d brought a large pile of mail that had gathered for him at the newspaper. Adam was a good investigative reporter and good at going under cover to get to the heart of a story—his military training helped him with that—but his specialty was business reporting. With the amount of influence that large corporations and stock markets held over the lives of ordinary people, his editor had given him free rein to tackle financial stories other reporters ignored. And with luck, and a great deal of skill, Adam had uncovered several stock scams, a couple of embezzlers and a number of products that were hazardous. Every story that revealed another crooked businessman or inept government bureaucracy brought him more and more mail.
He’d sorted the letters into piles: those that seemed important, those he would write to as soon as he had some free time and, finally, the crackpots. Kelly had been idly sorting through this last pile when he’d sensed something was wrong. She had grown extraordinarily still, staring fixedly at one letter. Then, noticing Adam’s attention, she had reached for the next piece of correspondence, but he had managed to catch a glimpse of mysterious letter’s stationery. He’d wanted to demand what it meant to her, but didn’t dare. He didn’t want to push Kelly back into her shell.
Instead, he’d hardly been able to wait for his mother to return home, to eat the overcooked pot roast, for his mother and him to make strained small talk that Kelly ignored, until he could at last escape to his car with the correspondence in his briefcase. That’s how Abigail Milton’s letter had come to his attention.