LITMIR.BIZ

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Plus two-hundred dollars a week.”

      “That sounds perfect.” Her muffled voice held relief.

      They passed through town and he waved at several people. Then the realization hit him. She didn’t want anyone to see her leaving with him.

      Why?

      Luke turned the truck onto the road leading to his parents’ ranch. “We’re out of town. You’re safe now.”

      Faith started and sat up. Her face flushed a deep crimson. “What do you mean?”

      He nodded toward the floor. “You find everything?”

      “Huh? Oh, yes. Thanks.” She turned away from him, her hands clasped into a tight knot.

      Seeing her knuckles turn white, he felt the need to assure her and calm her fears. “Relax, Faith. It’s going to be okay.”

      The fearful expression in her eyes told him she wasn’t convinced.

      A little small talk might ease the situation. “Where are you from?”

      “Back east.”

      “Back east is a big place,” he stated with wry amusement.

      One corner of her mouth lifted. “New York.”

      He arched an eyebrow. “It’s a big state.”

      She slanted a glance his way. “Yes. It is.”

      He’d bet she came from money. The graceful table manners she’d displayed and her cultured speech oozed private school, which only left him more intrigued.

      “The countryside is so beautiful and peaceful,” she commented, then asked, “Have you lived here your whole life?”

      “Born and raised.” He didn’t mention he’d left at eighteen and only recently returned.

      “How long ago did your mother have her heart attack?”

      “Two weeks.” He’d wanted a nurse to care for his mother just in case she suffered another attack, but the doctor had assured him she would be back to normal soon. All she needed was rest and a little exercise. And someone constantly making sure she was doing just that. Someone besides Reva May Scott.

      “What does your family think of your see-America jaunt?” he asked.

      She pressed her lips together and shrugged. “Who’s Reva?”

      She was good at changing the subject. “That’s a complicated question.”

      He thought for a moment how best to answer. “Her father and my dad were good friends. When her mother took off after she was born, her dad started drinking. My dad tried to step in as much as possible for them.”

      “That was generous. So you two are like siblings then?”

      He let out a short laugh. Reva would disagree. “Yeah, something like that.”

      “I take it from what you told Ethel, Reva and your mother don’t get along.”

      “No, they don’t. Mom tried real hard with her when Reva was a little girl, but…” He shrugged. “Reva would never accept my mom.”

      “That’s too bad,” Faith commented, her expression thoughtful. “I hope your mom will be okay with me coming home with you.”

      Letting up on the gas, the Bronco slowed as he turned onto the gravel drive. “I wouldn’t be bringing you home if I didn’t think I was making the right decision.”

      She turned away to stare out the window. Stretching before them in wild splendor was his family’s five-hundred acres. At the end of the drive sat a two-story farmhouse, flanked on either side by a pair of large, red barns, one of which had four apartments on the second floor. A paddock and corral sat off to the right side of the barn while the other side was open grazing land with sage brush and bare trees sticking up through the layer of snow.

      “Oh my, is this your ranch?” Her voice filled with awe.

      “Welcome to the Circle C,” Luke said with pride.

      Faith twisted to look back the way they’d come. “The road is very visible. I suppose you can see cars coming long before they arrive?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good.” She sat forward. “That’s good. You’re pretty safe out here.”

      He arched a brow. “What are you afraid of?”

      A huge caramel-colored animal ran along the fence.

      “You raise llamas?” She turned her curious gaze on him and left his question unanswered. Again.

      The depths of her hazel eyes pulled at him. He debated pressing for an answer, but there would be time enough later. “Llamas, cattle and horses.”

      “I’ve never seen a llama up close.”

      “They make great pets. We raise them for their coats. Raising llamas is a hobby for my mother. She used to show them, but then people started wanting to buy them so we expanded the operation.

      “Our stable is small compared to others who solely raise llamas. Few people realize that Sisters is the llama capital of the United States.”

      “Why here?”

      “Central Oregon’s climate is similar to that of Peru, where llamas originate. Sisters is ideal, open and temperate.”

      “I agree. This place is perfect.”

      Luke had a feeling she meant more than just the climate. He stopped in front of the house and his golden retriever bounded up to the Bronco. Opening the door, he received a series of wet dog kisses. “Whoa, girl. It’s good to see you, too.”

      Suddenly, the dog’s ears perked up and her head lifted. She dashed out of view before Luke could react, and Faith became the recipient of the retriever’s sloppy love.

      Luke rounded the corner of the Bronco and stopped. Faith kneeled with her arms around his dog. The sight made him smile.

      “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

      “Brandy.”

      “Luke, what’s going on?” A female voice brought all three heads around to face the house. Reva stood on the porch, her hands on her hips and her red lips pressed into a stiff line.

      Irritation pulsed through Luke, but he shook off the feeling. It was only natural Reva would be curious, but her question seemed more accusatory than not. He glanced at Faith, who now stood with her hands clasped together and a polite smile plastered on her face.

      He silently retrieved Faith’s bags and guided Faith toward the house. Brandy, he noted, stayed close to Faith.

      “Who is this?” Reva asked, her eyes wide, as she looked Faith up and down.

      “A guest,” he answered, wishing Reva wouldn’t act so territorially.

      Brandy growled then let out a loud bark. Luke understood the dog’s urge to protect Faith. He felt the same protective instincts roaring to life in his veins.

      “Tell me what I want to hear,” Vince Palmero demanded of the man on the phone.

      Bob Grady cleared his throat. “Sorry, boss. We lost her trail in Portland, Oregon.”

      Vince clenched his fist. “How incompetent can you be?”

      “We’ll get her. I’ve got men combing the city and checking the trains, buses and airport.”

      “Time is running out. Find her!”

      Vince slammed down the receiver and pushed back his leather chair from the expansive mahogany desk. He tugged on the collar of his Italian handmade dress shirt feeling as choked with rage as if the Armani striped tie around his neck was being cinched tight. He couldn’t

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