The Wrong Woman Read online

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “No, but I know you,” Travis said glibly.

  She arched a fine eyebrow. “You do?”

  “Yeah, and you look as good with your clothes on as you do with them off.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she said in a haughty tone. “If this is a come-on, it’s not working and I wish you’d leave.”

  Ethan put his arm around Travis’s shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. He’s forgotten his manners. We’re sorry if we bothered you.”

  Travis shook off Ethan’s arm. “Yeah, and to make up for it, when you get off work tonight, I’ll take you out for an early breakfast. How’s that?”

  She frowned. “Get off work? What are you talking about?”

  Travis placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her. “The strip joint, honey. If you want to keep it a secret, that’s fine with me.”

  “A strip joint? You think I work in a strip joint?”

  “I know it for a fact,” Travis told her. “And you don’t just work there, you’re the star attraction.”

  Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m calling the police.”

  Ethan knew when enough was enough. If the woman had a secret, it was hers to keep. He caught Travis by the collar and pulled him away. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I apologize for the intrusion.” He pushed his brother toward the door.

  Outside Travis straightened his shirt. “What the hell did you do that for?” he growled. “She may be able to fool you, but she can’t fool me.”

  “She has a right to her privacy.”

  “You didn’t think so last night. You wanted to rescue her.”

  “Something’s different today. I can’t explain it.”

  “She’s all prim and proper and…” Travis let out a long breath, his irritation evaporating. “God, she’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah,” Ethan agreed, glancing through the café window. In that instant he made a decision. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “What are you—”

  Travis’s words faded as Ethan entered the restaurant. He took out his wallet and removed a business card, then walked over to her table and placed it in front of her. She drew back as if to brace herself.

  “My name’s Ethan Ramsey. I’m a private investigator. If you need any help, just give me a call.”

  Her eyes caught his. “Contrary to what your brother might think, I am not a stripper. He’s mistaken me for someone else.”

  “If you say so.” Ethan knew he should walk away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. She was so sincere—and so different from the woman last night. What was it that pulled him to her? He didn’t know, but he had to do what he’d told Travis—respect her privacy. He tipped his hat. “Good day, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Ramsey?” she called, and he turned back.

  “Does she really look like me?”

  He was taken aback by the question, but he answered truthfully. “A dead ringer.”

  “I see,” she murmured, and rose to her feet. “I assure you it wasn’t me.”

  “You’ve said that.”

  “And you don’t believe me?”

  Ethan took a step toward her. “I’m not sure what to believe, but the woman last night hated stripping. I thought she might need some assistance. That’s why I left my card. If you’re not her, just throw it away.” He inclined his head and walked to the door.

  SERENA FARRELL stared after the tall man and she noticed that he limped slightly, but it didn’t diminish his aura of strength and capability. Not that she needed either one. A stripper? It was too ludicrous to think about.

  As she stuffed papers into her briefcase, she could see him through the window talking to the other man. They were definitely brothers—same brown hair and eyes. Ethan Ramsey was the leaner and taller of the two. His brother also had an attitude, while Ethan seemed compassionate. He had warm eyes, and for some reason he seemed worried about her. There was no need to be. She wasn’t a stripper who required his assistance. She was a teacher and taught art at a local high school. She’d met the father of one of her students here this morning; he worked during the week so she’d arranged to meet him on a Saturday. His son had remarkable artistic skills, but he saw that as being sissy and not macho enough. She’d tried to convince him otherwise, but the father was macho to the core and didn’t like his son sitting around drawing pictures. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t accept his son’s talent and encourage him, but then, dealing with parents was the hardest part of her job.

  “Hey, Serena, who was the good-looking guy you were talking to?” Daisy, the waitress, asked.

  “Which one?” she countered with a smile. The school where she taught wasn’t far away, and Serena often came in here for coffee. She became acquainted with Daisy and she liked her.

  “The Clint Eastwood type with the boots and the hat.”

  Serena picked up the card. “Said his name’s Ethan Ramsey. He’s a private investigator.”

  “Do you need a private investigator?”

  “No. He thought I was someone else.”

  “He used a line like that? I didn’t figure he was the type.”

  Serena started to tell her about the stripper part, but decided not to. She didn’t want any more rumors to circulate. There were enough already. More than enough.

  “You just can’t tell, can you?” she replied as she collected her briefcase and slid the card into her pocket. She’d throw it away later.

  Daisy quickly wiped the table. “No, you sure can’t, but he could use that line on me any day of the week. I served him coffee and breakfast, and all he said was thank-you. All the guys go for you.”

  “Maybe he noticed the wedding ring on your finger.”

  Daisy twisted her hand. “Oh, yeah, forgot about that.”

  Serena smiled. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”

  “Oh, Serena,” Daisy called before she could leave. “I’m sorry about your grandfather and all.”

  The smile left Serena’s face. “Thank you,” she said, and walked out.

  As she got into her car, she reflected that everyone was sorry about her grandfather…and all. But it didn’t change a thing.

  AS SHE ENTERED THE driveway, Serena saw that all the other cars were gone. Her grandmother’s monthly bridge meeting took place this morning, and Serena was glad it was over. She had to talk to Gran and she couldn’t put it off any longer. Her grandmother had to stop spending money. They were broke; it was that simple. Her grandfather had died three months ago and left them heavily in debt. Her grandmother wasn’t helping by ignoring the problem.

  She went in through the kitchen and found the house completely quiet, except for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway, which only emphasized the silence. The lady Gran had hired to serve refreshments must have gone. She and Gran had argued about it this morning. They couldn’t afford to pay someone for maid services, but as usual Gran had turned a deaf ear to her pleadings.

  As Serena started for the hall, the kitchen phone rang. Startled, she merely stared at it. She hated answering it these days. It always seemed to be a bill collector.

  She took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Ms. Farrell, please.”

  “This is Ms. Farrell.”

  “This is Mr. Wylie from the bank.” Serena knew exactly who it was. She’d heard his voice more than she wanted to during the past three months. “I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday, Ms. Farrell, but this is getting serious. We have to have an installment on your grandfather’s note. We can’t continue to let this go on. If we don’t receive at least a partial payment by the end of the next week, we’ll have to start foreclosure proceedings on the house. Your grandfather put it on the note as collateral. There’ll be a notice in the mail.”

  Serena swallowed the painful knot in her throat. “I’m doing the best I can, Mr. Wylie.�
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  “I know, Ms. Farrell, and I hate to do this. I’m aware of your situation, but my superiors are demanding restitution for this loan.”

  Serena glanced outside to the beautiful May day. The sun was shining, the trees were flourishing and the grass was greener than it had been even a week ago. A perfect day in an imperfect world. She recognized that now she’d have to do something that would break her heart.

  “I’ll be in next week, Mr. Wylie,” she said.

  “Oh, Ms. Farrell,” Mr. Wylie replied, surprise in his voice, “I’m so glad. I’m aware that this house has been in your family for years and I hated to take it away from you.”

  Serena couldn’t respond, couldn’t say that without this house, her grandmother would lose all hope, all sense of pleasure in life. What she said was, “I’ll see you at the end of the week,” and hung up the phone.

  Serena continued down the hall into the den. Her grandmother, Aurora, was reclining in a chair with a blanket over her feet. At seventy-one, Aurora was regal with a polished Southern charm. She had grown up in Georgia and moved to Texas when she was fifteen. Later, she’d married Henry Farrell. They’d had one daughter, Jasmine, who died shortly after a car accident more than thirty years ago. Jasmine was almost nine months pregnant with Serena at the time, and while both parents had died from their injuries, Serena had been safely delivered. After Jasmine’s death, Henry and Aurora had raised Serena.

  They gave her a storybook life. They lived in a lovely home in an affluent neighborhood. Serena attended the best schools. Her life was full and happy, and she’d never wanted for anything. After college she’d returned to Fort Worth and gotten a job teaching. She met Brad and they were making plans to get married when her grandfather passed away.

  Her life changed that day. While she was still trying to deal with the grief of losing her grandfather, she discovered he was deeply in debt. That storybook life had been a fiction all along, paid for by loans. She’d never discussed finances with her grandfather, so she was unaware of their money problems. His family had owned a pharmaceutical company, which he’d inherited. The company had evidently been in a financial bind, and her grandfather had taken on private investors. The investors soon bought him out, but her grandfather had maintained a position in the firm with a salary—a salary that did not accommodate their lifestyle. His savings were gone and he’d taken out a second mortgage on the house, as well as a series of loans. His life insurance had paid off some of them, but Serena was still struggling to save their home. She’d never had to worry about money before; now it was all she ever thought about.

  Her grandfather had tried to shield Gran and her from everything, letting them live in a fictitious world—a world without dark clouds or storms. He used to say, “I want my girls to have nothing but rainbows.” That wasn’t real, though. Now the real world had surfaced with a vengeance, and Serena wasn’t sure how to cope. But she was trying.

  Serena kissed her grandmother’s forehead. Aurora opened her eyes, their blue a little faded. “Oh, darling, you’re home.”

  She sat on the stool at Aurora’s feet. “We have to talk.”

  “It’s about money, isn’t it,” Aurora said tiredly. “You know I don’t like talking about money.”

  “We have to,” Serena insisted. “You have to stop spending so much. We don’t have any money,” she said bluntly. “We barely get by with your social security and my paycheck.”

  “I don’t understand how we could be broke. Henry always took care of everything. I never had to worry.”

  That was the problem, Serena thought. Henry had borrowed and spent more and more to make sure Aurora and Serena had the life he wanted them to have. Serena had explained this repeatedly to Aurora, but she never fully grasped the situation. And to be truthful, Serena wanted her to have the life she was accustomed to, just like her grandfather had. She found herself weakening. She decided against telling Gran about her conversation with Mr. Wylie, even though she knew she should. Aurora would be so distressed, and Serena was determined to avoid that. Besides, she’d figured out a way to stop the foreclosure.

  Serena kissed her forehead again. “We’ll talk later,” she said, and headed for the stairs. She’d do anything for her grandmother. That was why she didn’t understand Brad’s attitude. When they found out about her grandfather’s debt, Brad urged her to file for bankruptcy and put her grandmother in a seniors’ home. Serena was appalled at such a suggestion. She’d been raised to be honest, loyal and dedicated to family. Brad was asking her to do something that went against every belief, every instinct she had. They argued back and forth, and finally Serena broke the engagement. She couldn’t live with a man who was so heartless; it made her wonder how long Brad would have stuck by her if she’d taken ill. Not long, she supposed. She didn’t regret her decision.

  All her waking hours and many fretful nights were spent thinking of ways to make money. She used her talent as an artist to get a contract with a local greeting-card company, but it took a long time to receive her payments. She also painted portraits. Children were her specialty and she had a number of commissions lined up, but it still wasn’t enough to meet the bills. They would make it, though, she vowed.

  She entered her grandparents’ room and stopped for a moment. There were pictures of her all over. The decor was done in different shades of blue, from deep cobalt to baby blue. The bedspread and drapes were a floral chintz, as were the cushions in various chairs. As a child, she’d called this the blue room, and it was her favorite place. Each morning when she woke up, she’d run across the hall to her grandparents’ room and jump into their bed, snuggling between them. So much love, so much happiness… She choked back a sob. She’d wondered many times how her grandfather could do this to them, how he could hide their financial reality, but she knew he’d done it out of love. And now she’d have to do the same thing.

  She crossed to the divan in the small sitting room and picked up her grandmother’s purse. She removed a key and walked to the dresser, where she opened her jewelry box. Among the jewels was a small wooden box. Serena popped the lid and stared at the diamond earrings lying on a bed of velvet. Her grandfather had given them to Aurora on their wedding day. They’d belonged to his mother and someday they’d belong to Serena. Jasmine was supposed to have worn them on her own wedding day, but at eighteen she’d eloped, to the heartbreak of Aurora and Henry, especially since they disapproved of her choice of husband. Jasmine became estranged from her parents soon after that. Then she and her husband were killed, and Aurora and Henry gladly took Serena.

  Serena didn’t know much about that time, and she knew nothing about her father. Her grandparents refused to even mention his name. They held him responsible for Jasmine’s death. Serena shook her head. She was getting sidetracked.

  She glanced down at the diamonds in her hand, remembering how Grandfather had told her she’d wear them at her wedding and her eyes would sparkle as bright as the diamonds. Well, the wedding was off and the only thing that made her eyes sparkle these days was tears.

  She took the diamonds across to her room and slipped them into her purse. She’d hock them and buy a fake set, replacing them so her grandmother wouldn’t know. Her eyesight was getting so bad she wouldn’t see the difference. As long as there were earrings in the box, she’d be satisfied. Gran didn’t wear them, anyway. She always wore the diamonds and pearls Grandfather had given her for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Serena turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

  Liar, thief, an unfamiliar red-haired woman seemed to say.

  She stepped closer to the mirror. Was that her? She had a desperate look about her that she didn’t recognize.

  Oh, God, she was stealing from her grandmother, but what else could she do? Losing the diamonds was better than losing their home, she tried telling the woman in the mirror. Then why did she feel like the lowest creature on earth?

  She sank onto the bed and refused to let sentiment drag her down. She
had to do this for Gran and herself. She’d do anything to keep Aurora happy and comfortable—even lie and steal. No one was making them leave this house, not as long as she had breath in her body. And if she had a hard time looking at herself, she’d sell all the mirrors, too.

  She got up and went to fix lunch. In the doorway she paused and rested her forehead against the doorjamb. The weight of all her problems paralyzed her for a moment. Her grandfather had told her that behind every cloud was a rainbow…not that he acknowledged many clouds in his world. Oh, Grandfather, where’s my rainbow? She needed one—desperately. Just one tiny rainbow. And a handsome stranger with a heart of gold wouldn’t hurt, either. Suddenly Ethan Ramsey flashed into her mind and she thought of the stripper who looked like her. He didn’t seem to be a man who would lie. So was there a woman out there who looked like her? She let herself think about it for a moment. Since she didn’t know anything about her father, there could be a cousin who resembled her, someone she’d never heard of.

  She pulled Ethan Ramsey’s card from her pocket. He’d said he wanted to help her. It was probably a line, just as she’d told Daisy. What did it matter? She was wasting her time thinking about it; she had enough problems. On her way out the door, she threw the card in the trash.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DRIVING HOME, Ethan couldn’t get the redhead out of his mind. Was she an expert liar or was something else going on? The woman of the night before was afraid and had a hard edge that suggested she’d been living a rough lifestyle. He recognized that immediately. The woman today was a complete contradiction. She was softer and had a veneer and polish that came with wealth and privilege. If she was stripping against her will, that would account for the fear he’d seen yesterday, but it didn’t explain the hardness. What was the woman’s secret?

  As he drove across the cattle guard, dust spiraled behind him. He was home in Junction Flat, Texas, a small ranching community of less than a thousand near San Antonio. There was a saying in Junction Flat: “Don’t let the mesquite, the cactus and the rattlesnakes get to you. Junction Flat is a good place to live.” And it was—this was where Ethan had always gone when things got too hard, and he planned on staying here for the rest of his life.