Authors: Carolyn Haines
Connor was about to move away from the window when a movement at the edge of the woods caught her eye. She stared at the woods, willing the person to come out again. How many times had she stood at that same window and searched the orchard for someone? How many times would she have to do it again? The thought was chilling.
As if in answer to her call, a figure stepped out of the dense foliage into the clearing. Long auburn curls hung on her shoulders. The black satin dress was a perfect duplicate of Connor’s wedding dress. The short black veil hid the woman’s features. She lifted a single red rose, pointed it directly at Connor, then dropped it to the ground and crushed it beneath her heel before she turned and ran back into the woods.
Stunned, Connor gripped the windowsill. She grabbed the wooden frame and pushed the heavy window open, leaning out.
“Connor!” Elvie’s hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back in. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
“She’s out there,” Connor said. “I saw her.” The significance of the dress had not been lost. “She means to kill me, Elvie….”
THE HANDYMAN
(377-3, $3.95/$4.95).
He is a magician who likes hands. He likes their comfortable shape and weight and size. He likes the portability of the hands once they are severed from the rest of the ponderous body. Detective Lanark must discover who The Handyman is before more handless bodies appear.
PASSAGE TO EDEN
(538-5, $4.95/$5.95)
Set in a world of prehistoric beauty, here is the epic story of a courageous seafarer whose wanderings lead him to the ends of the old world — and to the discovery of a new world in the rugged, untamed wilderness of northwestern America.
BLACK BODY
(505-9, $5.95/$6.95)
An extraordinary chronicle, this is the diary of a witch, a journal of the secrets of her race kept in return for not being burned for her “sin.” It is the story of Alba, that rarest of creatures, a white witch: beautiful and able to walk in the human world undetected.
THE WHITE PUMA
(532-6, $4.95/NCR)
The white puma has recognized the men who deprived him of his family. Now, like other predators before him, he has become a man-hater. This story is a fitting tribute to this magnificent animal that stands for all living creatures that have become, through man’s carelessness, close to disappearing forever from the face of the earth.
Available wherever paperbacks are sold, or order direct from the Publisher. Send cover price plus 50$ per copy for mailing and handling to Pinnacle Books, Dept. 741, 475 Park Avenue South, New York, N. Y. 10016. Residents of New York and Tennessee must include sales tax. DO NOT SEND CASH. For a free Zebra/Pinnacle catalog please write to the above address
.
deception
CAROLYN HAINES
a division of F+W Media, Inc.
This book is dedicated to the storytellers I’ve been fortunate enough to know, personally and through the pages of books and stories. A million thanks to the members of the Deep South Salon and my friends and family who have supported me. And special thanks to Ian Gaston. His time and support are invaluable.
The signature was bold, a black scrawl of confidence, but it was the amount on the check that impressed Connor Tremaine. Fifteen thousand dollars. Up front. One-third the amount she would receive—if she agreed to the terms of the contract. Fifteen thousand dollars for three months’ work.
She tucked the check into the pocket of her riding breeches and threw the envelope and contract on the seat of her Trooper. The money gave her a warm, secure feeling, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to jump to any rash decisions. It was a long move from sunny California to the backwater state of Alabama. And the job was peculiar, especially the overgenerous pay. She knew she had a growing reputation as a horse trainer, but there were plenty of others with good reps, probably even in Alabama. She smiled slightly at the California arrogance of that thought. She wasn’t even from the West Coast, but three years of living there had given her an attitude—and a name as one of the best trainers/riding instructors around, especially with children.
Twenty-seven years of living all over the United States had given her a sense of self-preservation. Connor had learned not to jump in any direction too fast. She picked up the contract to read it more carefully. She was cautious, but she was interested.
“Connor! The most desirable … riding mistress … on the West Coast.”
She recognized Richard Brian’s voice and looked up with a grin. He was waving to her from the barn, and even at a distance he was a strikingly handsome man. “Go ahead and saddle up; I’m coming in a minute.” Folding the contract, she dropped in on the Trooper seat. She needed to talk to Richard, and not about horses. With long strides she walked toward the barn.
Leather and horses created a pleasant odor in the cool interior. Connor leaned against a stall as she silently watched Richard saddle the big gray gelding. Her mind was on the job offer she’d just received, but she kept a professional eye on the man’s movements.
“Check the girth twice,” she said automatically. “You know Spartacus holds his breath.”
“Right.” He turned to her, and the light caught the amber flecks in his hazel eyes. “Something on your mind, Connor?”
“You still read me too well. There should be a law that says when people stop being lovers, the ability to glean each other’s worries disappears.”
Looking over the withers of the horse, he smiled. “We’re better friends than we ever were lovers. Not that you weren’t something between the sheets.”
Connor shook her head but couldn’t hold back her smile. Richard was right. They were good friends. When the passion that had ignited their relationship had burned out two years before, they’d discovered a lasting bond that was in many ways deeper than anything they’d ever shared as lovers. “No wonder the women swarm over you. What a flatterer.”
“If you don’t want to talk about your secrets, I’ll talk about my riding.” He rechecked the girth. “I want to jump today. I hear Penny Marshall is doing something
soon
with some parts for jumpers. I could stand a little major-motion-picture exposure.”
“We can jump, but nothing higher than two-nine. You won’t be doing any major motion of any kind if you break your neck.”
He nodded and began the process of bridling the horse. “I love a woman who gives orders. I mean, that’s why I left Mobile. All those little Junior League belles were too mealy-mouthed. No starch in their spines.” He grinned at Connor through the dangling reins. “Or spice in the bedroom. Not like with you California girls.”
Connor couldn’t help but laugh. Richard was outrageous. “You forget, I’m not from California. But speaking of Mobile, I got a letter from Clay Sumner today. A letter and a check.”
There was a second of silence as Richard finished buckling the figure-eight noseband. “I’ll bet the check was generous.”
“Very.” Connor’s excitement came through in that one word.
“When I heard Clay was looking for someone to teach his kids to ride and to train his horses, I told him you were the best money could buy.”
“I’m not sure he couldn’t find someone local for a lot less money.” An impatient horse pawed in the stall next to Richard.
“Clay has plenty of money, Connor. Plenty.”
“It’s a long way to move.”
“If you’re looking to me to talk you into the job, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not certain you should take it. I have my own reservations—about a lot of things that go with that job. But you said you wanted a change. You’ve talked about that damn breeding farm you want since the first day I met you, and I do know that Clay Sumner has the capital to give you a down payment.”
A thin edge of anger had crept into Richard’s voice. He was trying to hide it, but Connor knew him as well as he knew her. He’d told her about the job, and then recommended her for it. Now he was upset at the prospect that she might actually take it.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said honestly. “With Dad out of the country, you’re my sounding board, I suppose. Friends get to do all the fun stuff.”
“I’d certainly hate to see you go. For personal reasons, and also because I don’t like the idea of you in Mobile with men like Clay after you.”
“That’s hardly my biggest concern.” She walked around the horse and went to stand beside Richard. She was tall, and he still had a good four inches on her. It was an enjoyable difference. “The idea of leaving my friends, my home. It’s more than a little scary.”
“Wherever you go, Connor, you’ll have friends.” Richard brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
Not for the first time Connor thought that his youthful good looks and gym-designed body worked against him. Behind that chiseled face was a very serious man, an educated and intelligent man. It was a shame that he was often typecast as a nonverbal beach bum or a
GQ
cardboard cutout.
“Tell me about Sumner,” she said. “You said he’s a politician with a law practice?
“Clay and I went to MMS, this fascist military school for boys.” A daredevil gleam lighted his eyes. “We both resisted the Third Reich indoctrination, and the first time we met was for disciplinary action. That’s how we became friends. Clay was two years ahead of me, but we were kindred spirits. Troublemakers.” He put his arm around her shoulders as they started to walk out of the barn. “We were rebels!”
“I can believe it,” Connor said. “I’m surprised you didn’t go to reform school.”
“Impossible. We were from ‘good’ families. Our parents bought our way out of any trouble we got into.”
“Always?” It was an interesting possibility.
“Almost always.”
“So are you still good friends? I mean, you recommended me for the job, and Clay took your recommendation seriously.”
Richard stopped. His arm slipped off her shoulders. “Connor, I wrote Clay a letter about you because I care for you. I wanted you to have a chance at your dream. Clay and I grew apart. We haven’t really spoken in years. I knew his wife, Talla … anyway, Clay became a rich lawyer, won a seat as a state representative, one term; state senator, two terms. In Alabama that’s a part-time job, and he maintained his lucrative law practice. He was set to run for governor, but he pulled out at the last minute.” Richard looked at the dirt aisle and shrugged. “Now I hear he’s got a chance at a Senate seat. Remember that plane crash two weeks ago, when Sam Black went down?”
Connor shook her head. Her life was so far removed from politics, and she’d lived in so many different places that getting involved in local issues had been hard. She was ashamed to admit it, but she hadn’t even voted in the last presidential election.
“Well, old Sam Black was Alabama’s senior senator. He was older than dirt, and he had a lot of clout. Now his seat is open. Clay’s supporters think they can push him in there.”