“You can’t expect to open up the book of my life and jump right into the middle of it,”

Trey Blackfox said as he leaned in a little farther into her personal space.

“Don’t worry, The Autobiography of a Serial Dater isn’t on my reading list,” Sasha quipped.

Trey chuckled and the sound magically dissipated the knot that had formed in her stomach from the moment he’d crowded into the car.

“Actually, The Trials and Tribulations of Being the Youngest Son is the story of my life.”

“You don’t look traumatized to me,” Sasha said.

“It’s the years of therapy,” he replied.

“And which kind did you have—shock or psychoanalysis?”

While he searched for a snappy comeback, Trey’s legs spread out and their knees touched for a moment. Sasha almost spilled her drink. The brief contact sent a shiver through her body. It had been too long a time since a man’s touch had triggered a reaction in her….

ANGELA WEAVER

is a Southern girl by way of Tennessee. She’s lived in Philadelphia, Atlanta, Washington, D.C., New York and Tokyo, Japan. An avid reader and occasional romantic optimist, she began writing her first novel on a dare and hasn’t stopped since. Having heeded the call to come home to the South, she has returned to Atlanta. On weekends, she can be found hiking in the North Georgia Mountains, scuba diving or working on her next book.

A Love to Remember

Angela Weaver

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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My idea of friendship

Not the easiest to understand

Or to embrace

Some have come

And others have gone

This book is for Mrs. B, Courtney B and Latoya K

When I wish for laughter, love, advice, inspiration

or to share some pain

You are my blessing

Thank you.

Dear Reader,

I hope that when you close the book with the end of Trey and Sasha’s story, you’ll do so with a smile on your face and twinkle in your eye. And although their youngest brother has settled into blissful domesticity, Caleb Blackfox and Marius Blackfox are still in for romantic challenges in their lives. I hope you’ll join me in my next book featuring Caleb and Miranda Tyler’s story.

Miranda Tyler had tried her best never to set foot back in her hometown of Cartersville, Georgia. But after her older brother’s injury in a car accident, the analyst for the U.S. Department of Justice is back…but, she’s not alone. Charged with the responsibility of hiding a ten-year-old witness in a high-profile murder case, Miranda is dead set on avoiding the one man she’s never forgot. But when Caleb Blackfox learns that his first love is back in town, he’s determined to pull out all the stops to keep Miranda safe and in his arms for a lifetime.

I enjoy writing about love and sharing my stories with you. I also enjoy hearing from you, so please feel free to e-mail me (angela@angelaweaver.com) or to check out my Web site at www.angelaweaver.com.

Smiles,

Angela Weaver

Acknowledgments

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

—The Prophet

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 1

Malay Peninsula, Southeast Asia

“Tell me this isn’t a mirage and that I won’t wake up with snakes or lizards in my sleeping bag,” Thorne demanded for the second time.

“This isn’t a mirage. We’re actually here,” Sasha replied to the wildlife photographer. A second later, her hands finally found the right combination to unfold the portable canvas chair. Even under the shade of the high trees and a tent top, the humidity of the rainforest had beads of sweat popping up all over her forehead. For the third time that afternoon, she longingly thought of her last trip to the Australian Outback. Having flown from an oven to a sauna, she preferred the former to the latter. No matter how much she tried to keep cool and dry, nothing worked. Any day now, she expected fungus to start growing on her khakis and cotton shirt.

“Okay…okay,” he rushed. “Now tell me again that we’re getting paid for this trip.”

“We will be paid once we complete the assignment,” she carefully explained. Graced with movie-star looks, blue eyes, curly flaxen hair and an ability to be at the right place at the right time with the right photographic equipment, Thorne Roswell could have pursued a career in fashion or commercial photography. Yet, like her, his love of animals and conservation drove him to seek out some of the world’s most elusive wildlife.

“All expenses?” he pressed.

Sasha turned around and backed into the less than sturdy chair. It was their eighth day of a month-long expedition and they had a few hours before the subject of her study appeared to take a drink from the nearby river. Until then they would wait. “Every cent.”

“In U.S. dollars?”

“Nope.” She allowed a satisfied glance to grace her lips. The foundation funding their trip was located in the United Kingdom. After a few days of wrangling, she’d been lucky enough to get them to agree to settle the contract in the local currency. “British pounds.”

Several moments passed and she could imagine the photographer’s mind calculating the currency conversion as he pulled out a camera lens from his backpack.

“Tell me again that this isn’t a mirage.”

She chuckled and reached up to push a stray braid behind her ear. “The money will be in your bank account before the plane comes back to pick us up.”

“And I don’t have to go to some bottom-tier university and lecture to class after class of pill-popping, Internet-addicted, know-it-all undergraduate students?”

“Not this time,” Sasha answered. “We just have to combine your photographs with my research, present our finding to the group and turn in our material.”

Thorne placed his hands behind this head and leaned back. The camera lens lay forgotten in his lap. “Sasha, my girl, this is the life. Perfect weather, fresh air, civilization is miles away and we’re getting paid to lie in the shade.”

Perfect. The word echoed in her head. As far as she was concerned the Malay Peninsula was far from the garden of Eden. The Bible had mentioned only one snake in Genesis. So far, she’d encountered over a dozen. “Don’t forget we’ve got a job to do.”

“Yeah, and as long as the tapir hides in the bushes, we wait.”

“I hate waiting,” she stated.

“I really don’t mind it at all.” He grinned.

Sasha looked upward to the center section of the tent and held in a sigh. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” she replied.

Thorne shrugged his shoulders. “Out of the practically overflowing list of bug-infested, end-of-the-world locales you’ve chosen for us to research, this is a virtual paradise.”

Paradise. She shook her head at the word. They had arrived in the southern edge of Malaysia only two weeks ago. The land was as untamed and wild as she’d imagined and just as beautiful. Sunrise that morning had been spectacular, brilliant oranges and blues lighting up the clouds. The verdant trees and low hanging patches of fog made it look like a painting without frames. Although the scenery appealed to her on every level, the small details like oppressive heat and the smell of rotting vegetation was never far from her thoughts.

Sasha resisted the urged to pull up her pants leg and scratch the tiny red bumps left by a matching pair of leech bites. Every couple of hours, they would have to check the tents for the most miniscule of holes. In this jungle, one small hole served as a neon open sign to the entire insect population in the area. And she’d had enough of biting ants to last an eternity.

The last instance she’d been less conscientious, she’d woken up in the middle of the night to see a flood of hundreds of ants sweeping over the equipment like a wave of brown water. Outnumbered, she’d had to abandon her tent and slept in the Jeep.

“Glad you like the neighborhood,” she replied. “Why don’t you stay?” The sarcastic undertone in her voice was completely lost on Thorne. It had taken her a few months, but she’d gotten used to the wildlife photographer’s constant need to compliment or complain.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “This is the best place you’ve dragged me to yet.”

“I did not drag you anywhere. You practically begged me to get you on the first plane flying so you could hide from your mother and the vindictive girlfriend who caught you in bed with another woman.”

Sasha opened her eyes and peered out the opaque camouflage color of the mosquito netting. Less than a hundred yards away, elephants had joined hippos in the slow running river.

“Wrong, I only took this job because no one in their right mind would spend three weeks with you. You, Sasha, rarely talk, don’t drink, don’t smoke and don’t go out to clubs. Honestly, love, you have the social skills of a Tasmanian Devil.”

Sasha didn’t say a word. What could she say? Thorne was right. She didn’t like being around a lot of people and talking was a waste of energy. She’d seen the effects of alcohol too many times to want to partake.

The familiar high-pitched sound of a female mosquito prompted her to roll down her sleeves and turn toward Thorne as he lay sprawled out on the tent’s tarmac. She gestured toward one of the bags. “Hey, can you pass the repellant? We’ve got a hungry guest.”

“You didn’t forget to take your malaria pill this morning, did you?” he asked.

“Thorne.” She said his name slowly as he continued to dig through the bag. “I reminded you to take the pill.”

“Right.”

Sasha shook the bottle of concentrated bug spray and proceeded to squirt it on the exposed sections of her skin, then she put her research notebook to the side, and completely relaxed in the chair. The little voice in the back of her mind whispered that she should have been entering in more information, but instead she lay back.

With her eyes closed against the warmth of the afternoon sun, Sasha inhaled deeply and smiled at her colleague’s relaxed comment.

Their sole purpose was to study the very elusive and near-extinct Malayan tapirs. The nocturnal and reclusive donkey-size animal inhabited only select parts of the tropical forest. They’d been in the target habitat a week and had only seen footprints of the beast. If she hadn’t seen a black and white photo taken a few months before by another expedition, she would have given up and moved on to the next project. However seductive the lush tropical weather and abundant the wildlife population, the overabundance of insects still made her want to head to cooler climates. Overhead the trill sound of a bird echoed and a breeze carrying the scent of decaying vegetation made Sasha wrinkle her nose.

At thirty-one, most of her college classmates had settled into comfortable corporate or public careers, married and begun saving for a future child’s education. Sasha, on the other hand, wasn’t looking. An ironic smile appeared and quickly disappeared; she’d had marriage offers from men on three continents. The first time, she hadn’t even hit puberty. During an expedition in Kenya, her parents’ guide had offered her father over a hundred cows. She leaned back and again closed her eyes. Several minutes passed and she’d begun to drift into a light doze when Thorne called her name.

“Sasha.”

“What?” She opened her eyes slightly.

“Did you hear that?”

“Thorne, how many times do I have to tell you that the local snakes aren’t poisonous and they won’t come near you, much less bite?”

“Exactly twenty-three. But that’s not it.”

His powers of observation worked great when they were tracking a subject, but at times like this he made her want to scream. “Then what is it?”

“Listen.”

Sasha stood up and focused her attention outward. Straining her ears, she concentrated on putting aside the white noise of the forest. And the same moment, she picked up the whirring noise; every animal alongside the stream seemed to freeze. Sasha’s heart stuttered to a stop and then jerked into high speed.

“Damn,” she swore. “That sounds like…”

“A plane,” he stated simply.

“What would it be doing way out here?”

He shrugged and stood up. “Maybe poachers?”

“Not likely,” she growled. “They’d come over land. From the sound of it, I think the plane is headed toward us.”

Sasha’s gaze narrowed on the milling animals. This deep into the tropical forest, most of the animals had not been exposed to humans or machines. It suddenly occurred to her that the sound of the plane would inevitably trigger the “fight or flight” instinct inherent in most living things. “We need to gather everything we can and get behind the trees.”

“They may run the other way.” Thorne came to stand alongside her.

“Do you want to put your life and our equipment at risk?’

“So now you’re the rhinoceros expert, too?” Thorne said sarcastically. The twang of his cockney accent came out in full force. “You think they’re going to stampede.”

“I know they will.” Sasha drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

She moved quickly to pick up the equipment and dump it in the travel bags. The entire episode reminded her of why she preferred the company of animals to humans. She’d had her pick of group expeditions, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize she’d inherited her parents’ solitary nature.

Sasha didn’t look at Thorne. If she didn’t need his talent, she would have stopped using his services long ago. She’d learned from her parents how to take care of herself in any environment. But what she hadn’t learned, and it would irritate her for life, was how to deal with people. And that undeniable fact made it easy for her to work and live in undeveloped countries and remote locales around the world on a moment’s notice.

“Move it,” she ordered, stuffing the GPS system, radio, laptop and video set into another bag. “Or someone’s going to find your trampled corpse.”

She grabbed her backpack and pushed through the tent flap. Her eyes scanned the horizon even as her ears could more easily detect the whirring sound. Sasha took off in the direction of more heavily wooded area with Thorne right behind her. Only when they’d gotten deep enough into the overgrown thicket of trees and underbrush did she slow down. A few minutes later when she was sure that they would safe, she stopped and dropped her bags onto the floor.

“We’ll wait here for at least a half hour.”

Breathing heavily, Thorne just nodded his head and slowly collapsed under the weight of his equipment bags. Turning her face towards the sky, her eyes strained to catch a glimpse of the horizon through the thick foliage. Failing to see anything, she used her ears and hands instead. Sasha crouched and out her hand against the ground. Sure enough, she could feel the slight trembling that had nothing to do with earthquakes and more to do with large stampeding herds.

Not this way, she prayed silently. The Lord must have been listening as the plane approached along with the animals because, as she’d hoped, the thick brush and trees forced them to go around their location.

“Good thinking,” Thorne whispered.

Sasha noticed the beads of sweat rolling off his forehead, and didn’t say a word.

An hour later after having returned to their campsite and discovered it intact, Sasha leaned down next to the abandoned lagoon and lifted a black plastic cylinder from the rocky shore. She held the object far from her body and stared at it. Her name had been stenciled in bold white letters on the side. Whatever it contained was important enough to have someone hire a plane to deliver it. A shiver raced down her spine with a shadow of foreboding. Drawing in a calm breath, she unscrewed the top and pulled out three sheets of heavy paper.

Several heartbeats passed as she read through the missive, and uncaring of the muddy water seeping between her toes, she dropped the container. Clutching the papers to her chest, Sasha walked back toward the undisturbed campsite and stopped as her knees threatened to buckle. She caught sight of Thorne just as he finished taking a drink of water from one of the many canteens. “We need to pack up,” she said in a low voice.

“What?”

She avoided eye contact by looking over his shoulder. “We’re leaving,”

“What did you just say?” he questioned. “I swear you just said that we were leaving.”

“I did.”

“Just like that? A little stampede has scared the unflappable Sasha Clayton?”

“I have to go back to the States.”

“What the hell is so bloody important that someone sent a plane into the middle of a tropical forest?”

“That’s my business.” Careful not to look Thorne in the face, her eyes went from his ear to his neck. Grief welled in the center of her throat and tears threatened to overflow from her eyes at any moment. And just looking at him might set her off.

“It’s my livelihood and reputation. If you’re going to bail out the least you can do is tell me why.”

Sasha lowered her eyes to the ground as dozens of should haves and could haves crowded into her head all at once.

“He’s dead.”

“Good God,” Thorne rushed. “Your father’s passed away?”

Instinctually, she pushed the thought of her father’s mortality away. “No, my godfather.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

From the corners of her eyes, Sasha glimpsed the photographer shift back and forth with indecision. He didn’t know whether to comfort her with a hug or take another step back. Although they came from separate continents and had radically different experiences growing up, it hadn’t taken Sasha long to notice the big similarity: neither of them dealt well with the human species in emotional situations.

In a somber voice, he said, “Sasha, there’s no way you can make it back to the States for the funeral.”

The uncharacteristically strained tone in his voice derailed her train of thought. She simply nodded her head. “I know.”

Sasha’s knees could no longer bear the weight of her sorrow. Her knees gave out and she collapsed back against a tree. Ignoring Thorne completely, she lost herself with precious memories of Uncle Camden. Eight months ago, he had surprised her by showing up in England on the very day of her acceptance into the Zoological Academy. Just last month, she’d called to wish him happy birthday. She’d begun to end the conversation with “I love you.” But he hadn’t heard it because the line had been disconnected.

Only with the sudden loss did she come to grips with the depth of emotions for her sixty-year-old godfather. Grief consumed her. She wanted to share more time with him. She wanted Uncle Camden to be her guide again like he was years ago, as they explored the rainforests and Mayan ruins of Belize; when they ran from alligators, camped on barges and tracked black howler monkeys for two weeks. She wanted to eat peanut butter sandwiches and drink coffee so strong that it doubled as an insect repellant. Her sorrow deepened and memories gave way to tears.

“I’ll start packing,” Thorne volunteered.

“Thank you,” she whispered. The finality of the moment weighed on her shoulders. She thought about her parents, her great aunt Margaret and her best friend, Lena. The images of all her loved ones flashed through her mind. Sasha was no stranger to death. After having spent all of her life observing nature’s cycle of birth and death, she’d come to accept it. This time, however, death cut to the bone.

Moments later after she’d managed some semblance of control over her runaway emotions, Sasha stood up and without a word, pushed back the tent flap and stepped inside. “We’ll be back soon, Thorne,” she said huskily.

However, even as she voiced those words she had a feeling in the bottom of her stomach that it wouldn’t be as soon as she hoped.

Chapter 2

Atlanta, Georgia

Two days after learning of her godfather’s death, Sasha woke one limb at a time.

The feeling of blood pumping through her veins and the dull ache in her back brought the welcome sensation of being alive. Yet, the source of the pain took her a moment to figure out. Slowly as the haze of sleep began to lift, she realized that for the first time in weeks she’d slept in a bed. Actually, a feather bed with four down pillows, soft cotton sheets and a down comforter.

She opened her eyes and squinted into the darkness before rolling over and reaching. Her long fingers encountered nothing but the soft duvet cover. Sasha looked at the glow of the bedside clock—10:30 a.m. She’d slept three hours, but she felt as if she’d been sleeping for a few minutes. She rolled over again and fumbled around until she managed to locate the switch for the bedside lamp. Low light suffused the room. Thick drapes covered two windows, a flat screen television flanked by heavy dark furniture and crème-colored walls.

Sasha pushed a pillow behind her back and inhaled the lavender scent exuding from the bed sheets. The king-size sleigh bed shouted luxury.

Uneasy, Sasha picked up the telephone and began to dial. Because of the sanctions against Cuba, she had to dial a service in Canada to be rerouted to her parents’ new home. A moment of silence passed as the international connection took place. When if finally came, the stuttered ring made her heart slip a beat.

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered.

“Momma.”

“Sasha, baby. Where are you?”

She closed her eyes and gripped the phone tighter as her chest tightened. The sound of her mother’s voice simultaneously relieved her and reminded Sasha of how much she missed her family. She took a deep breath and steadied her voice before replying. “I’m calling from Atlanta.”

“Oh, baby. I’ve been praying for you since I found out about Camden. How are you?”

She sat up straighter. “I’m okay. Momma, does Dad know about Uncle Camden?”

“We got a letter in the mail about two weeks ago.”

Sasha cradled the phone tighter. “Did he come to the funeral?”

“No. I wanted to go, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

Part of her wanted to voice the unspoken question of why. Yet, she held back. Her father was a man who lived by simple rules and staunch pride. No matter the history and connection between him and her godfather, Camden Ridgestone’s death wouldn’t have broken his vow never to see or speak to his best friend again.

“Is he around?”

“He’s out checking the caves. Now, how did you find out about Camden’s death? I thought you were on an island in the Asia.”

“Uncle Camden’s attorney tracked me down.”

“Why? It would have been impossible for you make it back in time for the funeral.”

“I’m required to be at the reading of the will,” Sasha responded slowly.

Several heartbeats passed before her mother said, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I’m not sure I like it, either, but I really didn’t have a choice. Uncle Camden’s attorneys took care of everything from the plane tickets to this hotel suite.”

“Hotel suite?”

Sasha smiled and curled her legs under her like a child. “At the Ritz Carlton. The place has a bathroom bigger than my studio in Brooklyn. Not to mention the monogrammed slippers, bathrobes and a Jacuzzi tub.”

“Samuel won’t like the sound of that.”

Sasha automatically tensed at the mention of her father’s disapproval. “Mom, I know you don’t like to keep secrets, but if you tell Dad that Uncle Camden included me in his will Dad’s blood pressure will shoot through the stratosphere.”

“I’ll let him know you called and that you’re all right. But you have to call me back and let me know what’s going on.”

“Promise. I love you, Momma.”

“I love you more, hummingbird.”

Sasha’s chest suffused with love at the sound of her pet name. She waited for the click on the other end of the line before placing the phone back on its cradle. Sasha slid off the bed and stretched as her toes sunk into the carpet before slipping into the hotel slippers and donning the plush terry bathrobe.

Spying a small counter with a coffee pot, tea and snacks, her stomach growled, reminding Sasha that she hadn’t eaten since arriving on the East Coast. Just as she crossed the living area, she heard a knock on the door.

Sasha secured the belt around her robe and opened the door. A hotel attendant smiled and Sasha stepped aside as the man wheeled in a dish-laden cart. “Good morning,” she greeted him.

“Morning, I hope you don’t mind that I’m a little late. We had a little problem with the service elevator this morning. But don’t let that bother you because the toast should still be warm and the coffee could still scald the living daylights out of a man.”

Sasha laughed and shook her head as she let go of the doorknob and let the door swing closed. “I wasn’t expecting breakfast, so cold or hot really doesn’t matter to me since I’m starving.”

Her eyes, which had just minutes before been narrow slits, opened when the smell of fresh roasted coffee wafted into her nostrils. He sat the cart alongside the windows and pushed back the curtains, letting bright sunlight into the room. She crossed the room and picked up one of the silver covers to discover fresh croissants, muffins, toast, fruit and an assortment of jams.

“This is enough to feed a small family.”

“The Ritz might be cheap when it comes close to Christmas bonus time, but they don’t play around with making the guests feel welcome.”

“Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Originally? No. I was born in North Carolina, but I’ve spent most of my life traveling.”

He chuckled and a smile slid up his face. “You know, we’re not really supposed to talk to the guests.”

Happy to hear American English and be in the company of a fellow person of color, she winked. “I won’t tell if you won’t. How about a cup of coffee?”

“All right. My name is Frank.”

After a half hour of food and conversation, Sasha locked the hotel door behind Frank and made her way to the bathroom. All it took was one quick look into the wall-length mirror to ruin her easy morning. The Senegalese woman who’d braided her hair had done an excellent job. But hiking through tropical forests and moving through thick underbrush had turned her stunning hairstyle into a complete disaster. The cornrows were in dire need of rebraiding. Since that wasn’t an option and she didn’t possess a proper hat or scarf, she sighed heavily. Sasha sat on top of the closed toilet seat, reached over her head and pursued her only option. Wincing at the thought, she began the two-hour process of unbraiding her hair.

People should be required to give three months’ notice before dying.

Sasha reached into her purse, pulled out a small packet of facial tissues, and wiped away a stray tear. So what if dying was an inevitable part of life—her uncle Camden should have told her he was terminally ill with cancer and he was putting her in the will.

Sasha balled the damp tissue in her hand and looked out the window at the passing scenery. The afternoon sunshine felt warm against her skin, but she turned away and closed her eyes. She let the motion of the moving car and butter-soft leather seats against her spine lull her into a calm state. But not even soothing jazz pouring from the invisible back speakers could rid her of the sense of loss and sadness.

She was feeling guilty and angry, and she hated it. Hated that she’d been off on the other side of the world while her godfather had suffered. Hated the fact that she hadn’t called or written in over a month. If only she’d known…

Her nails dug into the armrest and she resisted the urge to rub her eyes as she contemplated the remainder of the day. Uncle Camden’s attorneys had arranged for the three-hundred-dollar-a-night suite with all the perks money could buy, but she’d barely slept a wink. The idea of spending an afternoon of sitting with people she didn’t know and finding out that she might have inherited things that she didn’t want had kept her awake throughout the transcontinental flight. Sasha shivered with the thought.

This was the first time in her memory that someone she loved had died. Both her maternal and paternal grandparents had died when she was a baby. Her mother and father had been only children and keeping with what she called the Clayton tradition, Sasha was on only child. Not for lack of trying for a little brother or sister. Her mother’s second miscarriage had guaranteed that she would be the only offspring. If the day came that she actually took part in the mating cycle and got married, she vowed to have at least three kids. Every child should have a sibling. Instead of having an older brother or younger sister, she’d been alone. Of course, that meant extra attention from her parents and the undivided love of Uncle Camden, but she could have traded it all to not feel the loneliness she felt at that moment.

“Here we are, miss.”

The car stopped and the driver began to unbuckle his seat belt in preparation for opening the door, but Sasha waved him off. “I can get the door.”

“Of course, I shall be returning you to the hotel. Please wait in the lobby for me.”

“Thank you.” Sasha looked the driver again. Short black curly hair with a smattering of silver. She’d been too distracted and upset to pay attention to the man when he’d picked her up at the airport the day before. But now she noticed his British accent. It wasn’t the fashionable accent of the international reporters she often met in her travels, but the familiar lilt of Uncle Camden’s British lilt. Feeling another bout of weeping coming on, she scrambled out of the car.

Sasha stepped out of the taxi into a landscaped lower plaza. A cold breeze hit her cheek as the car door closed behind her. She pulled the winter air deep into her lungs, let it out slowly and released a smidgen of tension. A clear blue sky complete with tiny dots of clouds reflected off the doors. She instinctively tilted her back and she looked upward over the glass-and-steel structure. Her eyes landed on the top of the building and she blinked in pleasant surprise. Unlike most of the skyscrapers she encountered in her travels, she didn’t find the pointed top. Instead, the building hosted two half circles like delicate wings curving toward one another.

Shaking off her thoughts, Sasha gripped her purse and joined in the stream of people entering the building. Men and women were dressed in the latest business wear chic. By the time Sasha made it from the automatic glass doors to the richly appointed elevator lobby, she’d lost count of the number of designer handbags, ties, timepieces, cell phones and wireless headsets.

Sasha felt more out of place than ever, not that she didn’t blend in. She’d had her herringbone black suit custom-made from one of the best tailors in Bangkok. So what if the Brooks Brothers design was two years old. Her ex-high school roommate and Manhattan-dwelling best friend had assured her that a well-made black suit matched with a cream-colored silk camisole never went out of style. She followed a group of briefcase-toting men into the elevator and pressed the button for one of the higher floors. Briefly glancing at the LCD panel, she checked the time and the temperature. A groan welled up in the back of her throat—she was early. She would have to wait an extra twenty minutes. She caught an interested glance from one of the male passengers, and quickly returned her gaze to the door, before curiosity drew her eyes back. Sure enough, he was looking right at her. Sasha dropped her gaze again and barely kept from squirming. He looked to be in his late thirties with straight brown hair and a curious twinkle in his green eyes. Like the rest of the group, he wore a blue dress shirt underneath his dark suit jacket.

The number couldn’t go up fast enough for Sasha. The sooner she got off the elevator, the sooner she’d find out why her godfather had summoned her to Atlanta, and the sooner she could get back to her work. Correction: the sooner she could get the heck away from all those people. She exhaled, remembering the words from one of her previous therapists. No, she wasn’t anti-social; she just hadn’t been properly socialized. The elevator stopped and Mr. Green Eyes stepped off. Sasha let out a breath and then pulled it back in as the elevator stopped on her floor. She stepped off onto a plush Persian rug and inhaled. The slightly heavy scent of vanilla made her sneeze.

“Ms. Clayton?”

“Yes?” Sasha looked up from digging into her purse to grab another Kleenex. She wiped her nose and looked in the direction of the female voice that had called her name.

“Good Afternoon. My name is Gretchen Stevens. I’m Mr. Hawthorne’s executive assistant.”

She held out her hand in greeting. After a moment’s hesitation, Sasha shook her hand. The woman’s fingernails were perfectly manicured while hers hadn’t seen polish in months.

“The attorneys are on their way from the courthouse and should arrive within the hour.”

Sasha nodded and was careful not to examine the slight brown at the woman’s perfectly blond roots. Instantly, she compared the woman’s expertly applied makeup to the female sable’s instinctual urge to groom before coming into season. The human animal had never been the subject of her academic studies, but she couldn’t help but see the similarities with her professional research.

“Please follow me.”

She stopped in a separate room. Three walls were covered in Impressionist art and the third wall was in fact a window looking out over the city.

“Please feel free to use the laptop, watch TV or peruse the magazines while you wait.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I get you something to drink, Ms. Clayton? Coffee, tea or soda?” she asked through a toothy smile that shouted cosmetic dentistry. The assistant kept addressing Sasha by her last name, a fact that made her feel older than her thirty-one years. She opened her mouth to tell the woman who had her beat in age by at least half a decade, that her name was Sasha. But she shoved the irritated thought to the back of her mind and she recalled the Southern tradition of calling adults by their last name.

“No, thank you.” She smiled. “With the time change I won’t have any trouble staying awake. It’s the sleeping that will be difficult tonight.”

“How about a mineral water? Transcontinental flights have a nasty tendency to cause dehydration. My skin is always parched even after a short flight to New York.”

Startled, Sasha looked from the sight of the airplane flying in the horizon to Gretchen. “How did you know?”

“I made your travel arrangements. I hope that the flight and your hotel are adequate?”

“Very nice.”

“Good. I’ll go get that Pellegrino. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No, thank you,” she responded with a hastily contrived smile. At that moment she was about to take anything to get the secretary away from her. Sasha watched the woman leave the room and sat in the stuffed leather chairs near the window. Needing something to grab a hold of besides her purse, she picked up a copy of the local newspaper and sat it on her lap.

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She thought she’d conquered her issues with being around people. Or she thought she had. Taking a hard look at her life for the past two years, she brutally came to the conclusion she was deluding herself. She hadn’t spent more than a total of three months in civilization since she’d broken up with Byron Jackson.

They’d covered half of the Oregon wilderness and some of Washington. They’d slept in the same tent, splashed naked in the small mountain springs and tracked a den of migrating elk. It had been about this time of the year that he’d left her for a lucrative position as a college professor and a San Francisco socialite.

Sasha opened her eyes at the stab of pain in her stomach. The day after the break-up, she’d packed her bags and jumped on a plane to Cuba to visit her parents for two week. That’s all she’d thought she’d need to get over the man she’d thought would be her life partner. Just a few days on the beach with her parents and she’d be back to her old self.

At least that what she’d told herself, until she’d returned to Oregon and walked past the campsite they’d stayed at weeks before. For months afterwards, she’d munched on antacids like they were peanuts and blamed it on a combination of stomach upset and food allergies. A quick trip to a village doctor in Vietnam had confirmed the fact that she had indeed been healing from a broken heart.

It wasn’t that he’d found someone else. It really wasn’t about Byron at all. She’d had this hope that she’d found her other half. Found the ideal relationship that her parents held. Someone who’d shared her love of animals, who understood her passion for natural research. She looked out over the wispy clouds towards downtown Atlanta and past the tall building to the skyline.

The sound of footsteps drew Sasha out of her thoughts. A glass and the signature green of the sparkling water sat on the side table next to her chair.

“Good Lord,” she muttered. “I am such a selfish wretch. Here I am at the reading of Uncle Camden’s will and all I can think about is my disastrous personal life.”

“I suck,” Sasha declared borrowing the phrase from one of the numerous in-flight movies she’d been forced to watch. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes only to open them at the sound of someone entering the room.

“Yeah, that works. Pick out something nice with orchids. Yeah, have the note read, To my favorite ski bunny, have a wonderful birthday. Can’t wait to see you on the slopes. Yes…yes…add the Belgian chocolate and something impressive. You know the kind—engraved and from Tiffany’s. Good… Good…I’ll call you later—got to take another call.”

There was a brief silence and then the masculine voice continued. “Hey, little bit, sorry I missed your performance last night. You got the flowers, right? I’m sure that you’ve got a small greenhouse in that loft of yours. The New York dance scene will never be the same since you hit the stage. Of course, I’ll be in the front row when the company comes to Atlanta. Good. I’ll talk to you later okay? And congratulations.”

In the silence, Sasha opened her eyes and thought about alerting the stranger to her presence. What a dog, she thought, and then revised her observation. Calling the man a dog was not only clichéd, but also a mistake in classification. The canine species had genetic predisposition for loyalty to their pack leader. Moreover, wolves were discerning in their choice of a mate. She stared down at the front page of the newspaper as if all the normal bad news had somehow become new and interesting on reading the paper. More uncomfortable than the time she’d overheard her parents making out in the laundry room, Sasha crossed her legs and loudly unfolded the newspaper in her lap.

She didn’t look up or sideways and thus had an eagle eye of shiny black leather shoes on the plush Persian rug. Mr. Cell Phone settled in the seat next to hers.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t see you over here,” he said.

From across the room, Mr. Cell Phone’s voice had only served to grate her nerves. Now less than five inches from her side, goose bumps prickled her flesh. The masculine tenor of his voice touched the primitive part of her psyche that she couldn’t control.

Several seconds passed before Mr. Cell Phone crossed his ankle over his knee and Sasha heard the rustle of the leather as he sank back into the seat. “Looks like it’s just us this afternoon, huh?”

She didn’t respond but lifted her head and planned to give him a blistery cold stare. Instead, she blinked owlishly at what she observed had to be the cutest combination of smiling brown eyes and twin dimples that she’d seen in her life. Her heart just about flatlined when he smiled and she caught a glimpse of his less than perfect but nicely white teeth. Her thoughts stuttered to a stop and Sasha hurriedly returned her attention to the newspaper in the hopes that he would leave her alone.

She stared down at the black and white letters and for the first time in her life cursed her gift of having a good memory. There was something irresistibly sexy about the stranger with the light boyish eyes. The man was handsome. Not the kind of cosmetically engineered, constant visits to the dermatologist, but the homegrown kind of good looking that came from a severe lack of ugliness in the recessive gene pool. His black curly hair was nicely cut and the clean-shaven look fit with his full lips.

“Mind if I grab the sports section? I haven’t had time to catch up on the Falcons.”

She almost retorted that was because he seemed to be busy juggling women, but she bit her tongue, pulled out the section and handed it over all without glancing in his direction.

“Thank you.”

“Here’s a glass of ice for your water, Ms. Clayton.” Without asking, the secretary opened the bottle and poured the sparkling water into the glass.

“Thank you.”

“Anything I can get for you, Trey?”

“I’m good.”

Sasha bit the inside of her lip as Mr. Cell Phone got a name. But a sting of irritation prickled on her skin. The last thing she wanted floating around in her subconscious was the man’s face, much less now that she could put a name to the person sitting at her side. Automatically, her hand reached out and she took a sip of the ice cold sparkling water. Tears sprang anew in her eyes and she began sniffing while she dug into her purse to pull out another tissue.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” He had the voice of an erotic dream. A hand touched her back and Sasha sprang up like a scalded cat.

“I’m not crying. It was the water.”

“Sorry, again. Just wanted to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” Sasha snapped out and instantly wanted to pull the words back. Normally, she wasn’t rude. Then again she’d never had to deal with the set of circumstances she’d found herself in at that moment. Besides, she didn’t know the man. And she didn’t want to know him.

He stood up but made no move to come closer. Sasha’s gaze slid from his black wool trousers over the tieless cobalt blue button-down shirt, past broad shoulders and a clean-shaven jaw to lock on to his full lips.

She swallowed hard.

“Look, Mrs. Clayton, what’s the problem? I apologized.”

Sasha used the irritation brought by his use of her last name to down the rising hormonal tide south of her waistband. “My name isn’t Mrs. Clayton. That’s my mother. I’m Sasha and just because we’re in the same room doesn’t mean I’m going to tell my life story to a stranger.”

He stared at her like she had two heads and she glared back at him for having the nerve to look like the harmless boy next door when he was actually the wolf in the pasture.

“Okay let me try it this way. Sasha, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Then can we clear up some of the hostility in the room? I’m not wearing my bulletproof vest today.”

Sasha took his comment literally and asked, “Are you a police officer?”

“No, I’m a vet.”

“A vet,” she repeated doubtfully.

“As in veterinarian.” He smiled in a way that crinkled his eyes and made her want to step forward. There was something magnetic. Something that reminded her of the pull of salmon swimming upstream. She witnessed the migration only once in her life but the sight of the hundreds of fish throwing themselves against the oncoming tides would forever remain in her memory as one of nature’s truly inexplicable events. And all that wonder she felt looking into the man’s eyes.

Trey continued. “I’m harmless and I love animals, so please, sit. I promise not to touch you. Not even if you were choking.”

She relaxed slightly. “You don’t have to go that far.”

“Sure?” He chuckled. “Because we’re in the office of one of the top law firms in the country and anyone of them can sue me for every dollar in the bank and the clothes on my back.”

Sasha sat down and kept her hand on the hem of her skirt. The last thing she wanted to do was flash the man. She reached down and picked up the fallen newspaper.

“Can we start over, minus the rude phone conversation and the attempt to offer sympathy? I’m Trey Blackfox.”

“Sasha Clayton.”

He stared at her in a peculiar fashion for a moment, then seemed to shake it off. “Nice to meet you.”

She smiled then looked back down at the paper. One inhaled breath brought the scent of cologne and, as if she’d stepping into a hot spring, every part of her body felt flush. It had to be his face. Something about the symmetrical features, masculine voice and pheromones that had her toying with the watch on her wrist instead of reading the words on the page.

She caught sight of him leaning in her direction. “Anything good in the news today?”

“Not unless robbery, apartment fires, another corporate bankruptcy and political scandals are counted as positive news items. Anything good in the sports world?”

“Nah, nothing happens until March Madness.”

Sasha’s brow slanted in a confused frown. “What’s that?” Courtesy of growing up with globe-trotting parents and her continued work outside of the borders of the country of her birth and far away from cable television, it always took her months to get catch up on the latest phrases and trends.

“College basketball championships.”

“Ahh.” She nodded with understanding.

“Not into basketball?”

“I played center in college, and I’ve been to a few NBA games.”

He gave her a quick onceover. “You’ve got the height. Something tells me you’ve got the skills.”

“Don’t put stock in that ‘something’ of yours. I sat on the bench eighty percent of the time. I liked the game. The game and the players just didn’t like me. Did you play?”

“All the time. Caleb wouldn’t let a weekend go by without pulling all of us into a game.

“All of us?”

“I have two brothers, a younger sister and a village of cousins.”

“Sounds like a fun way to grow up.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” Sasha replied while trying to discreetly scratch a spot on her stocking-covered leg.

“Any siblings?”

“No.” She shook her head and, fearing ripping a hole in the only pair of stocking she owned, she flattened her hand and rubbed.

“Panty hose itching, huh?”

“Like the ten minutes after a mosquito bite.”

“Yeah, it’s a pain to wear stockings, especially on a hot summer day.”

She looked at him suspiciously and her doubts about his masculinity crept to the forefront of her thoughts. “And how would you know?”

Trey leaned a little farther into her personal space. “You can’t just open up the book of my life and jump to the middle.”

“Autobiography of a Serial Dater wouldn’t be on my reading list anyway,” she quipped.

He chuckled and the sound seemed to magically dissipate the knot that had formed in her stomach the minute she’d gotten in the chauffeured car that afternoon.

“No, this would be The Trials and Tribulations of Being the Youngest Son.”

“You don’t look traumatized.”

“It’s the years of therapy.”

Sasha took a sip of water and returned her attention to Trey’s nice brown lips. Her eyebrow rose slightly as her lips curved into a smile. “Which kind? Shock or psychoanalysis?”

His legs spread out and their knees touched for a moment. Sasha almost spilled her drink as the brief contact sent a shiver throughout her body. It had been a long time since a man’s touch had triggered such an instantaneous reaction. “It’s more like mileage therapy.”

“How does that work?”

“You put a minimum of a hundred miles between you and your closest relative. Only go back home on occasional weekends and move often so that your family can’t find you when they want to drop in unannounced.”

Sasha leaned back in her chair and covered her mouth with her hands. It took a second but the sounds that came out of her throat at first mimicked a croaking frog, but little by little, she opened her mouth and laughed. And the infectiousness of her laughter seemed to spread as Trey joined in the humor and it spread back and fourth until tears sprang into her eyes. She wiped them away and then looked over at him with new, friendlier eyes. “I needed that.”

“Me, too. And I always get uncomfortable when I’m in the room with either a beautiful woman or a pet python.”

“Even if a snake made it into the building, given the average fifty degree temperatures, it would have gone dormant the second it slithered into the ductwork. So I’m going to assume you were referring to me.”

He lowered his gaze from her face and seemed to focus on her chest. Sasha fought the urge to fidget in her chair like a teenager on her first day at school.

“Before I clarify that statement, how did you know about a snake’s body temperature?”

“The same way that I know that wolves in the wild and captivity practice a form monogamous pair bonds between the alpha male and alpha female, yet their domestic canine cousins have moved to the opposite end of the spectrum because of human interference and the lack of a pack family structure.”

He gave her an incredulous look and just as he opened his mouth the executive assistant entered into the room. “Thank you for waiting, Ms. Clayton. Mr. Hawthorn will see you now.”

Sasha stood and began to leave.

“Wait.” Trey stood and blocked her path. His eyes ran up and down her body, letting Sasha know in no uncertain terms that Trey was interested in her in a physical way. “I’d like to finish this conversation.”

“I think this place bills by the second.” She smiled. “I need to go.”

“What about dinner tonight?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” she calmly questioned, although the palms of her hands had grown damp with the heady rush of excitement brought about by the unfeigned attraction from such a handsome man.

“Dinner at a nice restaurant and if we don’t want the evening to end, coffee at my place.” The way his eyelids lowered and those luscious lips curved upwards in a sexy suggestive grin kindled thoughts of sheets and pillows on the left side of her brain while the right side doused the effect by giving Sasha an instant playback of the conversation Trey was having when he’d entered the room earlier.

She stepped around him, then turned her head slightly to give him a sideways glace. She mustered a convincing indifferent tone. “Don’t take it personally, but I don’t date commitment-phobic bachelors.” Then she walked away, moving from the waiting room as fast as low pumps would allow.

Five minutes later Trey was happy that he was sitting down, gleeful that he’d worn loose pants and downright grateful Sasha Clayton hadn’t turned around as she’d left the room. He couldn’t have turned his eyes away from the woman. Not even a myopic mole could have missed the hard outline of his groin. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and when that didn’t help, he put the newspaper over his lap.

Ten minutes. He had ten minutes to get the combination of Sasha’s challenging stare and luscious rear end out of his head. Wide brown catlike eyes, rich hazelnut skin on an oval face. Not a perfect face like some of the models he’d dated in the past, but that mix of features and figure that men looked at and dreamed they woke up next to in the morning. Her dark hair looked as thought it was thick like his little sister Regan’s. He wondered about the length. If the constrained tresses would curl at her shoulders or flow over her back. Trey ran a hand roughly across his close-shaven head.

He tried to think about Giselle, the painter and yoga instructor he’d let go three months ago. Her flexibility in bed had added an unexpected spice to their affair. Long slender face, crème caramel complexion and nice curves made a man drop to his knees in prayer, and she would show up at his door with just a phone call. And he could have easily flipped open his cell phone and called her up. However, the problem was he just realized that one glance from Sasha Clayton left him burning hotter than ten nights with any woman of his acquaintance.

Trey sat back in the chair and rubbed his brow as a full grin drew his lips upward. She was opinionated, touchy, feisty, cute and funny. And she’d turned him down. Trey Blackfox, son of one of Georgia’s wealthiest African-American families, head of his own veterinary practice and millionaire bachelor got blown off.

“Trey?”

He looked up to see Gretchen’s wary expression. “Sorry.”

“Mr. Payton will see you now.”

He stood but his mind remained fixated on the image of Sasha Clayton’s perfectly sized backside. It took him twenty paces to get his libido in check and his mind on business. When he exited the waiting area, at least he had his common sense back.

Chapter 3

Sasha’s pen hit the table at the same time her bottom lip dropped. “Excuse me, Mr.…” Sasha blinked owlishly at the attorney. She sat at the head of a long conference table. A half dozen lawyers faced her. The first shock of the meeting was discovering that Uncle Camden had been cremated and his ashes spread over the Atlantic Ocean.

“Greenberg.” The lanky gentleman with deep-set blue eyes and wispy silver hair responded.

“Could you repeat what you just said?”

“Save for a sum of a three million dollars bequeathed to various charitable trusts, two million to his trusted friend and butler, funds set aside for the progeny of his animals, the balance of Camden Ridgestone’s thirty-five-million-dollar estate is yours with a few stipulations, of course.”

Fully aware of the six sets of eyes on her, Sasha slumped in the leather armchair and struggled to keep her breakfast of eggs and croissants from rising up and spilling onto the nicely polished table.

“Are you alright?” another attorney asked.

She shook her head from side to side and honestly replied. “No.”

“Don’t worry. The stipulations are quite simple. You are to take on the duty of caring for the animals, take his seat on a few of the charity beards and you cannot give the fortune away.”

Twenty-five million dollars. The amount swam in front of her eyes as she struggled to comprehend two things. First, how did Uncle Camden have that kind of money? Second, why in the world did he leave it to her? She’d spent half of her life believing that her godfather was a normal researcher with a British accent. It was only after her father and godfather had fought that she had discovered that there had been a lot more to Camden Ridgestone than they’d ever known. Like the fact that his well-to-do family had not completely disowned him. And that Camden had secretly funded her parents’ research expeditions and Sasha’s college education.

“I can see that this comes as a shock.”

Sasha barely suppressed the urge to glare at the white-haired attorney who’d long since given up on covering his receding hairline. The man had a gift for understatements. A hundred questions rose to her lips but Sasha settled on one. “Why?”

“Why?” Mr. Greenberg repeated with a puzzled look.

“Why me?” she croaked.

“Oh, that. Well, there are numerous reasons that are not my place to explain.” He opened a leather portfolio and drew out a sealed envelope. “Camden left you this letter and I believe that it will provide you with answers.”

The attorney slid it across the table in her direction, and then stood along with his colleagues. “We’re just going to give you some time to take this all in. If you need anything, just pick up the phone and one of the secretaries would be happy to help.”

“Thank you.”

“There will be paperwork to sign. The main thing is that you begin your role as caretaker to Camden’s animals. With your permission, I can have someone deliver your things from the hotel to the house.”

“No, thank you. I can do it myself,” Sasha replied as her head began to ache.

When the door closed behind them, she reached over and picked up the envelope, gingerly as if she held a rare specimen. With the corner of her fingernail, she flipped up the unsealed edge and drew out the thick pieces of off-white parchment.

Dearest Sasha,

Her heart gave a squeeze and fresh hot tears flooded into her eyes. Sasha closed the lids and drew in a deep calming breath. She wiped the tears away and forced herself to continue reading.

Don’t panic, and remember to breathe. I’ve always been curious about your incredible dislike of surprises and I’m sure this bequest will be unexpected. But it is for the best. Of all the people in the world I trust, you, your father and your mother are highest on my list. And of all the people that I have loved, you, Sasha, deserve all the riches of the world although you’ve never wanted them. I leave this life without a child or close relatives. I’ve given my life to nature conservation and I’ve tried to be a good person. Now I hope that you will do the same. I leave you the bulk of my possessions. Do with the money what you will, but take care of my animals. All of them have kept me company and given me unconditional love. I could do no less than to leave them in your more than capable hands.

By the time she finished the letter, Sasha’s hands shook. The enormity of the situation hit home as the missive landed on the table. From one hour to the next, she’d become a heiress and a pet owner. She didn’t know which was worse. Her father had taught her to despise the rich. And despite her love of animals, she’d never owned a pet. She’d moved around too much during her childhood.

She looked down at the list and did a quick sum. She was now in possession of a fortune, a dog, cat, an iguana and a pod of tree frogs.

“Just checking in.” Mr. Greenberg stood next to the table.

She opened her eyes and stood. “How long have I been here?”

“A little over half an hour.”

She shifted in her seat as the attorney sat in the chair next to hers. Sasha wasn’t physically tired but mentally she stood on the edge of exhaustion. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem at all, young lady. Did you have a quick rest?”

“I didn’t sleep. My head is still spinning.”

“Well there’s no rush. You have a lot to take in. It’s not every day you inherit millions.”

“What about Uncle Camden’s family? Aren’t they going to argue against this?”

“It’s been taken care of. Your godfather is the poorest member of the Ridgestones and since he cut ties after moving to the U.S. and giving up his British citizenship, they’re not going to say a word.”

“Pardon my ignorance, but how did Uncle Camden amass this fortune?”

“Pet food.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your uncle helped span a small dynasty of high quality, veterinary recommended pet food.”

“I knew he had money, but this…” She shook her head. “I have no idea what to do now.”

“You’ve got plenty of time to figure this out. And until you’re ready to take control, our firm will continue to monitor the estate. The only thing that needs to happen now is that you move into the mansion. He was pretty adamant that you become the primary caretaker of the pets.”

Sasha felt a momentary sense of panic. She’d helped rehabilitate injured wildlife and reintroduced them back into their natural environment, and tracked a pack of hyenas over the African plains. But she’d never taken responsibility of anyone or anything but herself.

“Now, don’t panic.”

She shook her head. “How did you know?”

“I can’t read minds but I’ve seen that look on too many of my clients’ faces not to recognize it. Camden has taken care of everything. In fact, another partner has just finished briefing someone who will be an integral part of your getting settled into your role. Just let me go get him.”

Niggling in the back of her mind grew so that minutes later when the attorney entered the room she was numb to the surprise of seeing Trey Blackfox’s familiar profile.

“Sasha Clayton meet…”

“Trey,” she interrupted.

“You’ve met?”

“In the waiting room,” Trey answered after walking in, pulling back a chair and making himself at home.

Sasha bit the inside of her cheek. The man was the epitome of confidence. And for a moment Sasha felt green with envy. Throw her into a room with a biologist, a den of wild aardvarks or a convicted felon and she could fend for herself. But being in a room with an attractive man left her tongue tied.

“Good. This should make this go a bit smoother. Trey and his veterinary clinic have been retained by the estate to continue in the primary capacity as both the medical care provider of the animals and advice for you.”

She recovered her wits. “Shouldn’t that be my decision? Not that I doubt his expertise.”

“Normally that would be the case, but Mr. Ridge-stone specified that the clinic not only care for the animals but he also provided a generous grant to ensure that they continue to receive the best care. Not to mention that since the clinic is nonprofit and gives free care, your uncle wanted to continue his support after his passing.”

Trey chimed in. “In fact we’re naming a new exercise run after your godfather.”

She stared blankly at the two smiling men. Too much, too fast. She’d barely had a chance to adjust to the reality of her godfather’s death. Now she had to deal with an inheritance that was incomprehensible in terms of her responsibilities. “I’m sure that you want to talk about this, but to be honest I can’t think straight right now.”

The attorney waved his hand. “You don’t have to do anything. We’ll be right here when you’re ready to make any actions. My assistant reserved your hotel suite until tomorrow. Jackson has assured us that the house is ready for you.”

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable moving into my uncle’s house,” she admitted.

“I understand, but part of the bequest entails you’re being the animals primary caregiver.”

Uncaring of the extra pair of interested ears that followed their conversation, Sasha made one last attempt to put the brakes on the increasing lack of control she had over the situation. “Not today. I don’t think I can handle anything else.”

The attorney nodded. “The car that picked you up this afternoon will take you back to the hotel.” He stood and gave her another benevolent smile. “Tomorrow, I’ll send someone by the house with the documents that I’ll need you to review and sign.”

Sasha slumped down farther in her seat.

“I’m sorry about your godfather. He was a good man.”

Sasha swung her gaze from the attorney’s retreating shoulders to Trey’s solemn face. “I wish I’d know that he was sick. I would have been here.”

“That would have been the last thing we would have wanted.”

“Did you know that he was dying?”

“Not until I got a call from the hospital. He asked me to continue taking care of his animals and to help you in any way I could after he was gone.”

“I take it that you’re involved with the foundations the attorney mentioned.”

“Yes. So it looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“It would seem so.”

“About what happened in the waiting room,” he started and stopped.

It took her a moment to notice his body language, but she suddenly realized that Trey felt uncomfortable in her presence.

She leaned close, cradled her face in her hands, and gave him a droll stare. “Please, tell me about what happened in the waiting room.”

Trey swallowed. Odds were that the woman across the table wouldn’t fall for the ole sweet charm that he’d been practicing ever since he’d graduated from Pampers to training pants. He’d tried a full smile and the compliments, but he’d gotten tackled before he reached the end zone. Now what did he do? He racked his brain for a quick solution to get himself out of the hole he’d inadvertently dug himself in by coming on to the woman who would be holding the purse strings to the grant money his clinic depended on. The fact that Camden had asked for him to assist his goddaughter was no small favor. Trey wouldn’t betray that kind of trust just because his urge to peel the panty hose from Sasha’s wonderfully formed legs. If he’d been thinking with his head instead of his libido, he would have realized that Sasha was Camden’s goddaughter. He turned his mind back to the present. “I apologize.”

Her face registered surprise at this apology. “For?”

He swore internally; she seemed determined not to make it easy. He placed his hands palms up on the conference table as he considered some way to make their predicament work. “My behavior in the waiting room. I have a tendency to go after what I want. Guess dealing with animal patients has rubbed on me. But, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable so I promise that I will follow your lead and keep our relationship strictly professional.”

“You’re either not in the habit of apologizing or you’re not used to allowing someone else the upper hand.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Does it show?”

“Like swarm of lightning bugs on a hot July night.”

Her look changed from distant to one of warm humor. Her dark eyes sparkled with laughter as Trey leaned closer. That look with her lips upturned and mouth partially open made his fingers itch to touch her face. Made his lips long to taste hers.

Trey swallowed. “Guess I’ll have to work on it. In the meantime, I’ll expect to see Darwin for his checkup in the next two days.”

“Of course.” Sasha stood up from her chair.

Trey stood, came around the table, and stopped by her side. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Thank you.”

Before he could say anything else, Sasha turned and strolled out of the office. Lionel Ritchie’s song “Two Times A Lady” rolled in his head as he watched her legs. Trey rubbed his brow and grinned. Life just kept getting interesting.

Two days after getting on a transcontinental flight, four hours since finding out that she’d become an instant millionaire and thirty minutes after leaving the law office, Sasha gasped aloud as the car pulled into a circular brick driveway. The seat belt sat forgotten in her hand as she took in the marble fountain, trimmed hedges and pristine lawn.

Sasha slowly exited the back of the luxury sedan with her mouth agape to greet her final shock of the day. “Uncle Camden lived here?”

The English Tudor seemed to come out of a Beatrix Potter novel. The brown-brick style open windows, nine-foot doors and exquisite masonry set it apart from all else. The home—no, she shook her head—the mansion would have fit perfectly in the North Lake District of England.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sasha’s attention shifted and her mouth closed as she focused on Jackson’s response. “Let’s make a deal. How about you never call me miss or ma’am and I won’t call you Jeeves?”

She watched as his bushy eyebrows rose and his brows jumped from flat to deep crested waves.

“As you wish,” he replied and then turned away to open the trunk.

Sasha stared at his back and half of her wanted to give up and scream. The other half ached to run for the nearest airport. However, she took a third option and surprised herself.

“As I wish?” She took a step closer and jabbed the man’s shoulder with her outstretched finger. “As I wish?” Her voice rose slightly. “If I could I’d be back on the Malay Peninsula observing tapirs foraging for food. I’d have my uncle back.” Tears popped out of her eyes. “That’s what I wish.” She sniffed. “And since I can’t have that, I’d just like to have a tissue, please.”

His expression softened and from out of nowhere a handkerchief appeared in Jackson’s hand. “I apologize. Camden’s loss has affected me more than I realized.”

“I didn’t even know that Uncle Camden was a millionaire. Sure as heck never dreamed that he’d leave this to me.”

“I know that Miss—Sasha. He told me of his plans months ago.”

“If that’s true, then why the attitude?”

“Because every creature in that house, the future of the foundation in Camden’s name depends on you. And for those pets to be properly cared for, you need to be here and not on the next flight to Singapore.”

The tide of anger, which had a few moments ago rushed in, rushed out just as quickly. “You overheard my conversation with the attorneys?”

Jackson’s look of offence couldn’t be mistaken. “I assure you that I’ve been called many things, but an eavesdropper has never been one of them.” He paused. “Your tickets were delivered to the hotel. I picked them up at the front desk.”

Sasha looked down at the driveway then back to Jackson. She’d been on the receiving end of so many apologies that day that she’d lost count. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now I think we can continue our conversation inside. It’s a might bit nippy out here.”

As they crossed the threshold, Sasha opened her mouth to ask another question, but something big and furry rubbed against her leg. She looked down to see the high-flung tail and the wide body of a long-haired-crème-colored cat as it pranced out of the room. She watched as a small dog with a leash in its mouth trotted slowly past her and dropped the leash at Jackson’s feet. “Looks like someone needs a walk. If you’ll excuse me.”

The man left her standing alone under a two-story entrance foyer hung with a crystal chandelier that could have been plucked out of Buckingham Palace. While she tried to take some of the day’s events in, the glasses of iced tea she’d drunk at lunch hit her bladder less than a heartbeat later. All previous issues disappeared. Sasha did a complete 360-degree turn and her eyes sought the cat as it lay curled up on a carpet. “Know where the bathroom is?”

Chapter 4

“I love you more, hummingbird,” she repeated once again before hearing the tattletale click on the other end of the line. Barbara Clayton hung up the phone and walked outside the three-bedroom cottage she’d called home for the past decade. Her first instinct was to find her husband and tell him about Sasha’s phone call. But her second thoughts won out. Turning left, she exited the walled garden and started down the worn path that would take her to the beach.

Memories rode the wind. She recalled their university days. When Camden, Arthur and she had long talks in the university library about migratory birds and human encroachment on the national forests. Always short on money, and big on ideas, they’d talked about saving animals. Barbara sat on a flat rock, curled her legs up, and hugged them to her chest. Resting her head atop her knees she stared at the ocean as the salty twang brushed across her cheeks. Minutes or hours passed as she sat immersed in her memories until a shadow crossed her face.

“Hey, sweetheart, I looked for you in the house and I thought you might be here. What’s got that faraway expression on your eyes?”

“I was thinking about Camden.” She shook her head slowly. “I still can’t believe he’d dead.”

Her husband was silent for several moments. “I know.” He sat down, put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. Even after over three decades of marriage, they still fit. She’d gained inches, he’d lost hair and they’d both lost sleep worrying about their work and daughter. But despite the ups and downs, she still felt that marrying him was the best thing she’d ever done.

Barbara laid her head on his shoulder and looked out over the sea. The waves continued to rise and fall, providing a semblance of something constant in a world of change. “Why did things have to end so badly?”

“Camden lied to us, butterfly.”

She smiled softly at his pet name for her. She studied birds and he studied bats, yet they both shared a passion for butterflies. “But I could forgive him that.”

“I could forgive a man for hiding the truth, but you can’t help wonder what else he’d hidden.”

“He was a good man.”

“Who did an excellent job of fooling us into thinking he was a run-of-the-mill British man bent on making up for his country’s past. But to find out that he’s from one of those wealthy families that were actually responsible for all the natural damage that we’re struggling to make right. It turns my stomach.”

“You can’t help what family you’re born into.”

“I made him my daughter’s godfather. He was a member of our family and he was keeping secrets. Now when I go to give a lecture, or I’m offered a position at a university, I question whether it’s because of my qualifications or Camden’s influence. Not to mention I can’t get over the fact that he funded Sasha’s scholarship and fellowship.”

She closed her eyes. Secrets. She still held one from her husband and if she didn’t tell him about Sasha’s being included in Camden’s will she’d have another secret.

Maybe when he calmed down.

She watched the waves knowing Miami was ninety miles in the distance. Her husband crossed his arms over his chest and stared toward the water. “Money is the root of evil. History has shown us that. Never doubt it. I’m just glad none of this ever touched Sasha.”

Barbara looked away and kept her mouth closed.

Chapter 5

The next morning the first thing Sasha did was to pick up the mobile phone and head into the large guest suite bathroom. “Lena, are you awake?”

“Would I answer the phone if I wasn’t?”

“Sorry to call you so early.”

“No, no, I need to get my lazy butt out of bed and head to the library.”

“How are things?” Although they only saw each two or three times a year, Sasha so valued Lena’s friendship that she’d dropped over a thousand dollars on a plane ticket and flown for over eighteen hours to attend Lena’s New York engagement party earlier in the year. Half-sick with a stomach virus, she’d thrown up on Noah, her best friend’s fiancé. Luckily, the dentist lived close by.

“Mom and Noah are pushing for a wedding date. My future mother-in-law is campaigning for a baby. Dad’s taking Viagra and my older sister Kelly’s driving me nuts with some crazy diet she just started. Something about only eating foods that start with certain letters of the alphabet on certain days of the week. I can’t keep people from bothering me long enough to finish the outline for my thesis. My blood pressure is high. Might get a weave because my hair is split, broke and shot to hell. Did I mention my pregnancy scare last month? And I went to the emergency room with a panic attack. How about you?”

“Good. Great,” she lied.

“Where are you?” Lena asked. “I’m hearing a serious echo. Are you in some third world country? Do I need to call the UN to get you out?”

“My godfather left me twenty-five million dollars, a mansion and his pets. I’m calling from the guest bathroom.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You don’t seem too happy about it. I’d be over the moon. Not about your godfather dying, but about the inheritance.”

“This is a huge life changing responsibility.”

“Bump that. This is a once in a lifetime chance for a shopping spree. Book a ticket and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“It’s not my money.”

“Not according to your uncle’s will.”

“Lena,” Sasha softly chided.

“Girl, you’ve just won the lottery and you’re acting like somebody died.”

Her lips turned down. “Someone did.”

“I’m sorry—you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know. It’s just this is really unsettling. The house is big enough for a village and I can’t imagine how to manage this money, the animals, not to mention managing the foundation.”

“You know you’ve always had money issues.”

“I’ve never bounced a check.”

“Not those kinds of money issues. I mean you just don’t like money.”

“Are you surprised? My parents started out as socialists before they moved to Cuba.”

“Look, why don’t you put the life crisis on hold and catch the first non-stop flight to New York?”

Sasha nibbled on the inside of her lip for a second. “I can’t. I’ve got the animals to look after.”

“You’ve got millions. Hire the Nanny. Heck, you can probably get the Crocodile Hunter.”

“Uncle Camden’s last wish was for me to take care of this, Lena. Although I would love to pack a bag and go, I just can’t.”

“I understand.”

She thought about it for a moment. “But, I was thinking since I can’t leave how about you come here? I’ve got plenty of space and you sound like you could use a break.”

“Keep that option open. If that fiancé of mine pulls out one more wedding book, I’ll be knocking on your door.”

She rested her chin in the palm of her free hand. “I just want to get rid of the money, but I can’t because of a clause in the will.”

“Wait. I’m sorry, I think there must have been some static in the line. I thought I heard you say that you wanted to get rid of twenty-five million dollars.”

“I do,” she replied.

“You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m simple. I take what I need. No more, no less. My father taught me that.”

“Come on, Sasha,” Lena returned. “It’s not that bad. What can you complain about now? You’re rich.”

“What about my career? I’ll have to cancel all of my planned expeditions. For the unforeseen future, I have to meet with attorneys on a weekly basis, I have an appointment with the vet this morning because the dog isn’t eating, I need to meet with the household staff, figure out what charity board meetings to go to and the list keeps growing. Truly this is a good example of more money, more problems.”

There was a knock at the door. “Sasha, just a reminder that Darwin needs to be at the vet in an hour.”

“Who was that?” Lena loudly questioned.

“Jackson.”

“And who is Jackson?”

“The butler.”

“Oh my God! I bet you have a maid.”

“I think so,” she confessed or hoped. The idea of Jackson cleaning up her bedroom and making her bed made her uncomfortable. “I haven’t met anyone yet, but Jackson says he’ll introduce me to the cook later on today.”

“Promise me you’ll call me after nine o’clock tonight. I’m running low on my daytime minutes.”

She smiled. “Promise.”

“Take care.”

“You, too.”

She hit the End button and placed the phone on the marble vanity. Sasha’s eyes landed on the cat lying atop one of the bathroom’s plush bath rugs. Zaza, the ex-homeless Persian that now dined on high-end cat food and pooped in a custom kitty litter pan. The cat was simple enough to take care of but, God forbid if the cat got pregnant. According to the terms of Uncle Camden’s will Zaza’s kitten would end up with an inheritance of about twenty thousand dollars apiece. Sasha sunk down on the toilet as the weight of it all felt like an anchor on her shoulders. How could she find good homes for them? She didn’t know anyone who lived in a stable enough environment to raise a cat. All of her girlfriends were over thirty and vowed never to be crazy single cat women.

She stood and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was still a natural mess, her eyebrows had long since gone wild and her fingernails still needed attention. Her feminine pride balked at seeing Trey again.

After digging through her suitcase for ten minutes, Sasha pulled out trousers and an ivory cable knit sweater. She put on lip gloss and pinched her cheeks.

An image of Mr. Cell Phone, a.k.a Trey Blackfox, rose in her mind as she released the necklace clasp. She stared at the teardrop opal her father had given her on her fifteenth birthday. The last thing she needed was another distraction in her life. It was way too complex already. She especially didn’t need to waste time fantasizing about a man who couldn’t commit to her. Moreover, if she were going to pick a man based on more than good looks and charm, Trey didn’t measure up.

Later, after she’d had enough time to make her appearance halfway decent, Sasha walked downstairs and searched the house for her newest charge. She found Darwin lying at the foot of her godfather’s bed. The sight if his head dropping down as soon as she’d opened the door about broke her heart in two.

The Jack Russell terrier didn’t even look as she put on his leash and took him downstairs. Once they’d settled into the back of the car, Sasha caught Jackson’s look of concern in the rearview mirror. Darwin had been her uncle Camden’s constant companion. If her godfather flew first class, Darwin had his own seat. She’d met the canine when both she and Uncle Camden had been in Brussels for a wildlife preservation symposium.

She reached down, picked up the dog and put him in her lap and held him. It was almost as if she were holding piece of her godfather. She’d always known he’d loved animals, but she’d never visited his house, or met any of his other pets. She’d been aware of them only from letters. Yet in the back of her mind there had always been the expectation that she’d one day visit the house and meet the little creatures in person.

Sasha looked down and stroked the fur on the dog’s head. “Oh, Darwin. I know how you feel. I miss Camden, too, tough guy.”

His face lifted up and his dog tag jiggled back and forth twice and that brought a smile to her face. “Yes, I called you tough guy.” She used the nickname that her godfather had given the canine.

Minutes later with Darwin in her arms, Sasha carefully made her way across the parking lot and stopped in front of the automatic glass doors of the clinic. As they opened to reveal a large reception area, she had to blink as her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight of the interior of the office. She glanced from left to right and would have backed out had she not seen the name of the office: Samuel Graham Veterinary Clinic. Stepping through the reception area she walked toward the smiling young man seated behind the counter.

“Good afternoon. I’m here to bring…” she started.

The young man smiled and reached over to rub Darwin’s head. “Little D, I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Sasha blinked as the Jack Russell terrier in her arms seemingly went from death to life; Darwin practically jumped from her arms into the assistant’s. She looked at his nametag: Joseph Morris.

“Oops. Sorry about that.” Sasha stepped forward in an attempt to reclaim the canine.

“I’ve given him special treats since he was weaned.” He chuckled, struggling to keep his face from the dog’s tongue. “How are you doing, fella? Looks like you’ve lost quite a bit of weight.”

“Yes, that’s what I’d like to speak to a doctor about.”

“Of course, Ms. Clayton.”

She gave the young man a warm open smile she normally reserved for animals and kids. “Please, call me Sasha.”

“Only if you call me Jo.” He grinned broadly. “Sasha, I’m Dr. Blackfox’s veterinary assistant and I’ll he helping with Darwin today. Now, if you’ll just have a seat, I’ll take you back as soon as a room becomes available.”

Sasha took the dog from his arms and settled into one of the comfortable waiting chairs. “So you like treats, boy? I’ll have to buy you a box before I leave.”

Leave. The word left an uncomfortable taste in her mouth. She’d only arrived in Atlanta yesterday and already her mind was mentally preparing to depart. “Poor pooch. It must seem like everyone is leaving you,” she murmured.

Her eyes strayed to the other people with their pets and she felt a momentary pang of envy. Although she studied animals for weeks or months at a time, she could never bond with them the way those people had bonded with their pets. Her parents had moved around so much that having a pet was never an option. Once she’d tried to befriend one of her mother’s wounded birds, but having an endangered hawk as a pet was against the law.

She thought of her parents and her heart sank. She’d have to tell them. There was no way she could deliver the news on the phone. She’d have to fly to Cuba and do it in person. She shook her head and rubbed Darwin’s back. One step at a time, Sasha, she told herself. Now if she could get through seeing Dr. Trey Blackfox as easily.

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