squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her pillow, wishing she could will herself to sleep faster.
The phone rang on her bedside table, jarring her. Was something wrong with her grandmother?
Flinging back the covers, she grabbed the receiver and pulled out her mouth guard. “Hello?”
“Amie?” her twin brother’s voice filled her ear. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” She tugged the covers back up again. “Why do you ask?”
“You left the reception before it was over. That isn’t like you.”
They always had been in tune with each other’s moods. Her brother wasn’t normally a chatty person, so for him to call, he must sense something was up. But she wasn’t ready to tell him. It wouldn’t be fair to tell anyone before Preston.
“Gran was tired, so I took her back to her room, then I decided to slip out. I did see the fireworks display though. It was a beautiful touch.” No way was she telling him about Gran’s test. He would worry, wonder—question. “I hope you don’t mind that I left the hosting duties to you.”
“Of course I don’t mind. We’re family. You’ve been carrying more than your fair share of the McNair face time for Hidden Gem business this past year. The reception was winding down by the time you left. Mother and Father were in their element entertaining anyway.”
“They do like to play the head-of-the-family role.”
Their parents lived off a trust fund, tightly managed by Gran’s lawyers. Their cousin Stone’s mother also lived off her trust fund, working to stay clean after multiple stints in drug rehab. Leaving the bulk of her estate to her grandchildren was a huge vote of confidence from Gran that Amie didn’t take lightly. Her grandmother’s respect meant everything to her.
Amie was determined to do better by her own child than her stage mom, Bayleigh. Without question, Mariah was the better role model.
Amie tucked the phone more securely under her neck. “Was there anything else?”
“What was up with you and Armstrong on the dance floor? Any progress getting along better with the new boss? He’s really not such a bad guy. We had a good time playing cards at the bachelor party.”
“Have you been talking to Gran?” she asked suspiciously.
“No, I just got to know him better with all the wedding parties this week. We talked some.”
“Talked about what?”
He laughed softly. “You sound nervous.”
The twin bond was sure a pain in the butt sometimes. “I’m not nervous. I’m just exhausted.” Really exhausted. She’d never been as tired in her life as she’d been the past few weeks. “Good night, Alex. Love you.” She hung up the phone and resisted the urge to pull the covers over her head.
Someone was going to guess soon and her secret would be out. She needed to control the telling.
* * *
Sunday morning, Preston waited beside the limo, outside the Hidden Gem Ranch. It wasn’t like Amie to be late. Ever. She was always one of the first at work and last to leave. But she’d kept him out here hanging around for over twenty minutes.
He definitely wasn’t accustomed to anyone making him wait. Maybe she was playing a mind game?
The door to her quarters opened and she backed out onto the veranda, her curvy bottom wriggling as she juggled her purse and some kind of bag. Turning, she faced him and started forward, wearing turquoise high heels, pencil jeans and a flowy white shirt with multiple strands of signature McNair necklaces. The long loops of her necklaces drew his eyes down her body, hinting at the curves that lay beneath the shirt.
As always, he braced for the fact she damn near took his breath away.
His eyes fell to the little pink leopard-print carrier that wobbled back and forth to the side as something fuzzy and shadowy moved around inside. He frowned. “I thought you said you were packing clothes? Not livestock.”
Stopping in front of him, she lifted up the frilly carrier. “Clearly this isn’t large enough for a horse. I sent my bags ahead to the airport. This is one of my carry-ons. It may come as a surprise to you, but I do not travel light.”
He opened the limo door for her. “You’re one of those types that takes a cute little dog everywhere.”
“Don’t let my cat hear you call him a dog. He hates that.” She slid into the long leather seat.
“You travel with a cat?” He dropped into the seat across from her and stared at the carrier beside her. This woman never failed to surprise him in every way possible.
“Are you saying cats miss their humans less than dogs?”
“No—” he chose his words carefully “—cats are more independent. More easily left on their own.”
“Well, I won’t be leaving this one.” Her chin tipped. “If you have a problem with that, you can be the one to call off the trip.” She flashed a thin smile at him. “Could you possibly be allergic?”
Was that her plan? To get him to bail? It would take a lot more than a feline to make that happen. Still, he couldn’t help digging. “I am not allergic to cats—or dogs, for that matter. But surely someone on the staff can handle that. You have other pets.”
“This one is special.” She unzipped the top and the fluffy Siamese’s head popped out. The cat yawned and stared at Preston with blue eyes just as intense as Amie’s. “He’s old and has diabetes. He needs his injections.”
Guilt kinked his neck. “I’m sorry for leaping to conclusions.” He shook his head. “But I have to confess, I still don’t get it. You have the money for fancy pet sitting, including injections. So you need his company? Don’t you have two or three other or a dozen other cats? There are varying accounts around the office of how many. How did you pick which one to bring?”
“Four. Just four,” she said tightly. “My other three cats are staying with Gran. But I only trust Johanna with this one since she’s a vet tech, and as you know, she is on her honeymoon. Other than her, there’s no one I trust to administer the medication who’s also familiar to Roscoe—”
“Roscoe? I thought your family named all people and animals after gems.” Her brother was actually Alexandrite and she was Amethyst. Even their horses had gemstone names.
“My grandmother and my parents did that with the names. I don’t. Trust me, learning to write Amethyst in preschool wasn’t easy. So, this is Roscoe. It fits.” She smoothed a hand over his head. “I know I could hire some high-end pet sitter for him, but his diabetes gets worse when he’s stressed, and when he misses me, he stresses.”
“We can’t have that happening.” He scratched a furry ear and the cat erupted into a low, humming purr.
“This is not a joke,” she snapped, hugging the carrier closer. “I couldn’t bear it if he passed away while I was gone. I’m important to him and he’s important to me.”
He
