“Chan ann le tìm no àite a bhios sinn a’ tomhais a’ gaol ach ’s ann le neart anama.”
An earthy-scented fog rose from the floor and quickly engulfed her. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t breathe. The fog jerked her left, then right, then back again, and her world disappeared around her in shades of black and amber.
2
The Present, Denver, Colorado—Connor
The white onyx and marble lobby of the iconic Brown Palace Hotel and Spa, a restored nineteenth-century hotel in Denver, was abuzz with preparations for the anniversary weekend celebration. The Brown Palace had catered to the needs of kings, presidents, and rock stars for over a century and still retained much of its nineteenth-century ambiance.
Connor O’Grady, vice president of global security for MacKlenna Corporation, sat on one of the plush sofas in the center of the atrium facing the front door and studied the dozen or so hotel employees dressed in period costumes. The elegant dresses on the women and the men’s frock coats and trousers reminded him of the clothes the MacKlenna clan had worn when they traveled back to 1881 San Francisco, almost two years ago now.
The family’s patience and endurance had been tested since then. Hearts had been broken and mended, and the family had expanded, as had his sister’s waistline. Former hard-ass NYPD Detective JL O’Grady and her husband Kevin Fraser were expecting their first child, and he couldn’t be happier for them.
Connor would need a plus-one for the christening, and he had someone in mind. He glanced toward the front door and then at his watch. He was a pro at watching and waiting patiently, but not today. He teased a stray thread in the fabric that wrapped the arm of the sofa. If he kept it up, he’d unravel the damn thing and put a hole in the upholstery.
This wasn’t his first trip to Denver and it wouldn’t be the last. Over the past year, he’d made a dozen trips to the city visiting area ranches for sale. The corporation intended to retrain retired Thoroughbred racehorses to give them a second career. As soon as he’d been given the assignment, he’d enlisted the help of Olivia Kelly, a Denver real estate broker. Yesterday, she had phoned with news that a ranch had just come on the market that would be a perfect fit for the company. After reviewing the listing online, Connor agreed and rearranged his schedule.
After another quick glance at the door, he checked the time again. Olivia was late. Odd, because she was always prompt. The only time she’d ever been late for an appointment, she had phoned ahead. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked the call log. No calls.
He scrolled through the phone’s photo collections, looking at pictures of ranches they had visited. While he had been impressed with each property, he had been more impressed with her. She was in almost every picture he had taken.
She was a thirty-something knockout brunette with the most beautiful hazel-brown eyes he’d ever seen. He’d been tempted to make a move on her, but Pops warned him not to blend business with pleasure. He’d never known his wise father to be wrong about anything. Better to keep it professional until the company closed a deal. He knew she wasn’t married, but she’d given him the impression she had a boyfriend. That wouldn’t deter Connor unless the guy moved from boyfriend status to fiancé.
He glanced up from his smartphone and smiled when he spotted Olivia walking through the revolving door into the atrium. He stood and pocketed his phone. The smile she gave him rocked his world. Gorgeous as usual, dressed in a sage green suit with a pencil skirt, buttoned jacket, and four-inch heels. In the flat shoes she wore when they toured barns, the top of her head fell short of his shoulders.
She held out a hand as she approached. “Good to see you, Connor. I’m sorry I’m late.”
Her warm hand fit snugly into his and he didn’t want to let it go. “No problem. I used the time to return emails and texts.” He pressed his other hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. “This property is perfect. I hope we can negotiate the price.”
“There’s some wiggle room. They’re motivated sellers, but they don’t want to give it away. They’re intrigued with your plans to turn the ranch into a retraining facility for retired racehorses.” Her cell phone rang, and she dug into her purse. “Sorry about that. Let me turn this off so we won’t be disturbed.” She glanced at the caller ID and let out a little gasp. “Do you mind if I take this call? I hope it’s about my sister.”
“Not at all,” Connor said.
She clicked accept. “Hi Bob. Have you heard from Amber? You haven’t? That’s not like her. Did she tell you what time she expected to leave? Aha… Hmm… No… I’m tied up until early afternoon. As soon as I’m free, I’ll drive down there… Right… Okay… See you later.” Olivia disconnected the call and tapped the phone against her palm.
“Is there a problem?” Connor asked.
“That was the campground host at Turquoise Lake near Leadville. My sister Amber and I leave our trucks and horse trailers there when we go up to the family cabin. Amber left her truck and trailer there Saturday morning and told Bob she’d return Sunday night before dark. She’s not back yet.”
“Can the campground host check on her?”
Olivia’s eyebrows drew together as she twisted an amber and pearl embellished pendant necklace, which dropped into the blank space created by her V-neck blouse. The necklace elongated her neck, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the shimmer of her skin or her elegant fingers, as they gently twisted the hint of sparkle above her breasts. She wore the necklace often, and he knew the inscription by heart: I love you, sis, to the moon and back.
“Bob doesn’t have a horse and you can’t get to the property without one, unless you want to drive miles out of the way,” she said.
“What about the sheriff?” he asked.
She bit her lower lip and glanced away. “I can’t ask him.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t believe we should be in the mountains by ourselves,” she said in such a quiet voice Connor had to lean in to hear her.
“And you think that’s what? A chauvinistic view?”
“Don’t you?”
He straightened. “No. I think it makes good sense.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you’d be more open-minded.”
When she narrowed her eyes and stared at him, he knew he was in trouble. “I’m as open-minded as they come. I know three women who could handle the wilderness by themselves.”
“See—”
“But that doesn’t mean I want them out there, Olivia.” He used the same pitch and reflection Pops used in similar situations. But sounding like the retired deputy chief was too harsh a tone to use with Olivia. Connor instantly regretted it.
The brown in her hazel eyes darkened. “Amber and I can handle it.” Then she took a breath, and her intense expression cleared somewhat, and she said more calmly, “We grew up going to the cabin almost every weekend. It’s like a second home.”
He didn’t have to be a mind reader to understand what was going on with Olivia. She wasn’t annoyed or impatient. She was scared, and his job was to be the compassionate neighborhood cop and find a way to ease her mind.
“I guess there’s no cell reception at the cabin,” he said.
“No electricity. No plumbing.”
“Sounds more like camping out.”
“If I were marketing the property, I’d call it upscale camping. It has a great fireplace, sweet spring water, and a warm bed. That’s all the available accoutrements.”
“You mean there’s no chocolate on the pillow?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
She returned his smile with one of her own. “Only if you put it there.” She scrolled through her text messages. “Amber asked me to go to the cabin with her, but I had an event to attend Saturday night and couldn’t cancel.” Olivia dropped her phone into her purse. “Something’s wrong. I feel it in my gut.”
Connor wanted to hug her, but their relationship wasn’t at the hugging stage. In lieu of a
hug, it was time to play the role of the neighborhood cop and get the cat out of the tree. “Let’s postpone the appointment. We can visit the ranch this afternoon. Would that give us enough time to go to the cabin and check on Amber?”
“If you don’t see the ranch this morning, I’m afraid another buyer will sign a contract before you get there.”
“Tell the property owner you have a cash buyer, but you have to postpone until later today. Then I’ll go to Leadville with you to search for your sister.”
She continued to worry her necklace, her long slim fingers shaking slightly. “I can’t let you do that. I’ll have another agent take you to the showing.”
“I want to see it with you, not another agent. I was a detective for more than a decade. I learned to trust my instincts. You sense something is wrong. Let’s go.”
She let go of the necklace before she broke the chain, and her furrowed brows relaxed as some of the tension eased from her face.
Score one for the neighborhood cop.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive, but”—and here he faked bashfulness—“there’s a problem. I don’t have a horse or even a cowboy hat.”
She glanced down his jean-covered legs to his boots. When she looked back up at him there was a twinkle in her eye. “But you have the boots.”
He gave her the same once-over she gave him. “I can ride in what I’m wearing, but I’m not so sure you can.”
She picked at her skirt. “This won’t work, will it? Lucky for me, I have jeans and boots in my trunk. When I list a property, I want to see every inch of it. I’ll change at the barn.”
“This hotel doesn’t have a parking lot. Are you telling me it has a barn for guests to park their horses?” he asked, tongue stuck solidly in his cheek.
She laughed. “My parents have a ranch southwest of Denver. I’ll change there and saddle a couple of horses.” Then she gave him a questioning glance. “You do ride, right?”
He would have told her he did, even if he’d never been on a horse, and suffer the consequences later. “I didn’t grow up on a horse, but I do ride.”
“Well then, let’s go, cowboy.”
Before leaving the hotel, he stopped at the front desk and arranged to keep his room for another night. After they found Amber and viewed the property, he intended to ask Olivia to have dinner with him. If she turned him down again, he wouldn’t ask a third time.
Connor went through the revolving door after her. “Are you going to call your parents and let them know about your sister?”
“They’re in Africa on a safari and can’t be reached right now.”
“I’m sure there’s an emergency contact number? I’ve got a few connections. Do you want me to try?”
“The travel agency can probably locate them, but I’ll wait until after we go to the cabin.”
Olivia’s white Mercedes-Benz GLC was parked at the curb. She tipped the attendant, who held her door while she climbed in. Connor sat in the passenger seat, and after buckling his seatbelt, sent the company’s legal counsel, Kenzie McBain, a text: The sister of the broker I’m working with has gone missing. Postponing visit to the ranch. Will know more in a couple of hours.
Kenzie responded: Yikes. How old? Keep in touch.
He replied: Early thirties. Then he slipped his cell phone into his shirt pocket.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t drag you away from the appointment,” Olivia said. “If you lose this property—”
“You’ll find us another one.”
She lifted her perfectly arched brow. “Thanks for the confidence.”
She turned onto 20th Street, and by the time they reached the exit to Highway 25, she was well into another one of her Colorado stories. This one was about Chief Ouray, leader of the Utes. “It’s been said,” Olivia opined, “that he was the greatest Indian of his time with pure instincts and keen perception. A friend to the white man and protector to the Indians. Dad can tell you all about him. If he could meet anyone in American history, Chief Ouray would be on his top-ten list.”
Thirty minutes later, Olivia drove down a tree-lined private drive that led to a luxury log home. “Sweet,” Connor said. “Is this for sale?”
“Maybe someday, but not right now. My parents built out here ten years ago. I’ve had a dozen clients make an offer, but they won’t sell.”
“I can see you taking a client through the house, pointing out its unique features, calling it a little slice of heaven.”
“Almost Heaven, West Virginia,” she sang.
“Country roads, take me home/to the place I belong,” Connor joined her in a duet of the chorus of the John Denver song.
“And it is, too,” she said. “Besides all the amenities the house offers, there’s the thermal-controlled greenhouse, five-stall barn with grid-tied solar panels, a stocked trout pond, fruit trees, and a library. Dad’s history collection is so expansive, he built a scaled-down version of the house to hold it all. When he’s not lawyering or exploring the world, he’s out there reading and writing journal articles.”
“If your parents ever decide to sell, I’ll make a full-price offer.”
“Another MacKlenna property?” Olivia asked.
Connor stared longingly at the house. “No. An O’Grady one.”
“You’d leave Kentucky for Colorado?”
“I left New York almost three years ago and have been on the road since.”
“I wouldn’t call staying in a Scottish castle, a winery in Napa or Tuscany, or a Thoroughbred farm in Kentucky being on the road.”
“They’re all beautiful properties, but none of them are mine.”
“But you get to enjoy them without worrying about maintenance and taxes. That counts for a lot.”
“Maybe,” Connor said. “I’d still like a place of my own.” A place of his own for sure. But more important, a place where he could raise a family.
Olivia parked in front of the barn next to a Land Rover and claimed an overnight bag from the trunk. “There’s a restroom inside if you need to use it. I’ll change in the manager’s office.”
Connor entered the barn and walked into a world of dust motes and hay, of soft whinnies and tails swishing, of racks of tack and oat bins.
He used the facilities and then while he waited for her, he wandered through to the far side. The beams were solid and the posts, though chewed in places, were sturdy. The stall doors were polished oak with bars at the top, so the horses could see and sniff whoever walked by. Connor spoke to each one and scratched between their ears and eyes. For a city boy, he’d turned into an acceptable equestrian. At least he didn’t embarrass himself when he trotted alongside experienced riders. He’d never ride like former Union cavalry officer Braham McCabe, but no one else would either.
Olivia came out of the manager’s office wearing jeans, a red plaid button-up shirt, boots, and a Patagonia jacket looped over one shoulder. She’d never worn anything other than business attire while with him, and while he loved her legs in short, fitted skirts, he much preferred the woman standing in front of him now. She appeared more accessible, more natural, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Dad has a canvas ranch jacket on the hook over there that will fit you. I’d hate for you to ruin your leather jacket. Take the hat, too.”
Connor glanced across the barn in the direction she was pointing. “There are six immutable laws concerning cowboy hats. Number one: don’t mess with a hat that doesn’t belong to you. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Dad won’t care. He’s got a dozen hats and a dozen pairs of boots. Forget the hat law. It doesn’t apply here.”
Connor removed the backup phone battery from his pocket before dropping his leather jacket in the car’s front seat. He slid the battery in the pocket of the ranch jacket before donning a black Stetson with a slightly darkened sweatband. After adjusting the hat on his head, he asked, “What can I do to help?” When she didn’t reply, he turned and caught her staring at him. “What�
�s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen you without a jacket. You’re carrying a gun.”
“Colorado permits retired policemen to carry a concealed weapon. Does it bother you?”
She shrugged. “Not really. It’s just…well…you don’t seem the type.”
Now, he was curious. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“You’re always immaculately dressed, hair perfectly barbered, nails buffed. I don’t see the rugged outdoorsman hunter type when I look at you.”
“If I had three-day whiskers and a hat slung low on my forehead, would that help?”
“Hmm. Sorry. I can’t picture it.”
Now he knew why he’d never made a pass at her. He wasn’t her type, and he had subconsciously picked up the vibe that she wasn’t interested. “I may not be the outdoorsman type, but I know how to hitch a trailer. You want me to hitch the trailer to the Land Rover parked outside?”
She looked at him for a moment, as a not-so-sure expression crossed her face, then she reached into her pocket and tossed him a set of keys. “If you need help, yell.”
City slicker. That’s what she thinks of me.
He tried to shrug off his insecurities, but he couldn’t. Her opinion of him was more important than he wanted to admit.
This wasn’t his first rodeo with either hitching a trailer or desiring a disinterested woman. He could do a bang-up job with a trailer hitch, but he crashed and burned when a beautiful woman brushed him off. The male ego was a fragile thing, even for males raised by loving parents with the right mix of discipline and reassurance.
He slid into the Land Rover and started the engine. The vehicle’s camera system helped him reverse into the correct position to the tow bar. Then he got out, secured the hitch, and had the electrical cable attached by the time Olivia exited the barn leading one of the horses.
“I’m going to get back in the vehicle and flash the lights. Will you tell me if they’re working correctly?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said, running an expert hand over the horse’s withers.
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 2