I don’t think mine is. I only got a glimpse, but it would be just like you to get the handsome reporter.”
“Actually, he is. I don’t think he’s a reporter, though. I almost suspect he might have been hired to keep an eye on me.”
“Dad’s doing?” Kat asked suspiciously. “You think that’s what this is?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. He wouldn’t tell us because he knows we would demand he call them off.”
“That does sound like Dad, now that you mention it. I wonder if I’ve had one tailing me for months as well and I just didn’t notice.” Kat thought about contacting her father to verify it.
“Don’t bother Dad with this,” her sister said as if reading her mind. “He’s got a lot on his plate right now with the primary only months away. Also, if he didn’t hire the men, then he’s going to be upset that reporters are tailing us. If Dad had his way, he’d lock us up until all this blows over.”
“As if that’s going to happen.” Their father was headed for the White House. They would never be free of the press. But Kat knew her sister was right. “Okay. Have you talked to Harper or Cassidy?”
“They’re both fine. They have been running around Europe, pretending to continue their educations, but Harper called to say they were flying back to spend a few days in New York City. Neither has mentioned anyone following them. Oh, it’s finally starting to snow up here in the cold north. Gotta go.”
Kat looked down the street again as she disconnected and wondered if her father had hired someone to tail her and...what? Keep her out of trouble? Or keep the press away from her?
I feel as if I live in an aquarium full of bottom feeders, Kat thought as she headed down the street toward the art gallery. She hated it, wishing she was invisible. But she was one of the “Hamilton Girls,” as they had been known as far back as she could remember. With her father in politics, she’d done her best to stay out of the limelight. Now with him running for president, a mother whom the press had dubbed unstable and with Angelina Broadwater Hamilton, their stepmother, caught in what the press liked to call a hopeless love triangle, Kat feared all of this was never going to end.
* * *
MAX COULDN’T WAIT to get to a computer and upload the shots he’d taken. He’d looked at what he had on his camera, heart pounding with excitement. He might have the only recent photo of the senator’s first wife.
But the really good shots were the ones of Sarah and the senator together. He’d managed to capture the chemistry between them. Lovers’ triangle indeed.
While most of the media were making her out to be mentally unstable, Max thought she looked normal. True, he told himself as he drove back to town, looks could be deceiving. The senator hadn’t spent a whole lot of time with her at the creek. Max would have given anything to have heard what they said to each other.
But he had the photos. He’d captured something explosive in their expressions. There was...heat between them. These two let off fireworks when they were together—and it showed up even in the distant shots he’d taken.
He couldn’t contain his excitement. The question was who would want the photos badly enough to start the bidding.
Big Timber Java had great coffee—and free Wi-Fi. He opened his laptop, took a sip of his coffee and uploaded his photos.
An older woman came in, a local who seemed to know everyone in town. After she settled in, he approached her table and showed her the photo he’d taken of the man in the pickup—the one who’d brought Sarah Hamilton out to the creek to meet the senator.
“I was taking a photo of a doe down by the creek early this morning, and this truck and driver drove by just as I took the shot,” he said chuckling. “I thought you might know him.”
She squinted at the photo on his laptop for a moment. “That’s Russell Murdock. He has a ranch outside of Beartooth. Used to work for W. T. Grant. Russell had to be a saint to work for that man.”
“I figure he owes me a beer since he ruined my shot,” Max joked.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” the woman said cheerfully. “Russell is a sweetheart.” She took a good look at him then, eyes narrowing. “Are you one of those journalists in town?” Immediately she didn’t seem as friendly.
“Amateur photographer.” That much was true enough.
She seemed to relax. “Well, I think it is a fine shot of Russell. Did you get one of the deer?”
He shook his head. “The truck scared the deer away.”
“Too bad. We have several fine photographers in the area.” She rattled off three or four names. “Sometimes they offer classes.” Only one name caught his attention.
“Kat Hamilton? Any relation to—”
“Senator Buckmaster Hamilton?” She nodded. “One of his daughters. I’ve heard she’s quite talented.”
“I’m sorry, your coffee is getting cold because of me. May I buy you another cup?”
She declined, said she was meeting her granddaughter and had to go anyway. “It was nice visiting with you. Maybe I’ll see some more of your photographs one of these days in a gallery.”
“Maybe,” he said, hoping more for the front page of a nationally syndicated newspaper.
* * *
RUSSELL MURDOCK HADN’T been looking forward to telling his daughter that he’d asked Sarah Hamilton to marry him. He was no fool. He knew Destry would be shocked—just as everyone else in the county would be once it was announced. He’d expected the arguments Destry would make. What he hadn’t anticipated was how upset she would be.
“You can’t be serious!” Destry West spun away from him, turning her back as she stormed into the kitchen. He followed her, seeing her shake as she poured herself a mug of coffee and cupped it in her two hands. It didn’t stop her trembling as she turned to him again. “Sarah Hamilton? Have you lost your mind?”
He tried to find the words to explain how he’d felt from the moment she’d stumbled out of the trees and in front of his pickup. Fortunately, he’d gotten the truck stopped in time. But when he’d leaped out and seen her face... Well, it was like seeing a ghost. He’d been to her memorial service twenty-two years ago.
“You know I’ve been looking out for her since her return,” he said as calmly as he could. He needed his daughter to understand. “I fell in love with her.”
Destry shook her head, looking at him as if in amazement. “Sarah Hamilton? Doesn’t it bother you in the least that her return is surrounded by mystery— let alone her past?”
“She has amnesia. She’s not crazy.”
His daughter cocked her head at him. “Really? How can you be sure? She doesn’t know where she’s been for the past twenty-two years? Dad!” The word came out a plea.
Sarah had tried to warn him that his daughter would be upset. “Why wouldn’t she, Russell? Like everyone else in the world, she’s
