Deception

By Grace Brannigan

Deception ~ Short romance, 86 pages. Trey's boss is old, sick and his days are numbered; and he wants to see his missing granddaughter Katharine before he dies. Trey will do almost anything for the old man, even if it means having artist Sacha Fortune pretend to be Katharine.

Sacha is forced to assume the other woman's identity, because if she doesn't comply, Trey will expose her criminal past to the art world which has so recently embraced her art. But Sacha has more to lose than Trey could ever guess.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grace Brannigan
• Release date: Nov 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781939061218

Grace Brannigan

I live in the scenic Catskill Mountains of New York and I have been writing in one format or another as long as I can remember. I write in various genres and love strong heroines, family minded characters and sexy heroes. I love writing and also creating art in various mediums. I write about strong women facing life altering issues. My first series are stand alone books, Women of Character contemporary romances: Echoes from the Past, Once and Always, Heartstealer and Wishing on a Rodeo Moon. My second series is Women of Strength time travel trilogy, Once Upon a Remembrance, Book 1, Soulmates Through Time, Book 2, and Treasure So Rare, Book 3. I also have a Faeries Lost series, Romantic Shorts, and new this year Young Adult Time Travel with a Twist. Thanks for stopping by. My young adult has its own page at http://www.GraceBranniganYoungAdult.com I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. ENJOY.

Book preview

DECEPTION

a Romantic Short by Grace Brannigan

Women of Strength Time Travel Series

Once Upon A Remembrance Book 1

Soulmates Through Time Book 2

Treasure So Rare Book 3

Women of Character Contemporary Series

Echoes From The Past

Once and Always

Heartstealer

Wishing on a Rodeo Moon

Romantic Short Stories

Deception (a touch of suspense)

Two Babies, a Cowboy and Sara

Whisper Me Softly (a touch of fantasy)

Website: http://www.GraceBrannigan.com

Facebook: Grace Brannigan Author

Twitter: @GBranniganWritr

All Characters, places and events are fictitious and are not associated or inspired by any person living or dead. The author was not striving for historical accuracy as all places and events are purely fiction and not intended to be historically accurate.

Deception

Grace Brannigan

Copyright 2012 Elaine Warfield

ISBN: 978-1-939061-21-8

Smashwords ~ License Notes

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Questor Books, P.O. Box 100, East Jewett, New York, 12424 USA

Deception

by Grace Brannigan

Prologue

Katharine Garner pulled the door open slowly and looked up and down the hallway, her mind shaken, fuzzy, fearful.

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from her eyes. The hall appeared empty. Closing the door carefully behind her, she gripped the doorknob as the floor moved. No not the floor. She was dizzy, and her legs were wobbly.

Katharine heard footsteps. She turned clumsily, the length of her nightgown tangling around her legs.

Katharine! someone cried out.

Katharine flattened herself against the wall, lifting a hand to guard her face.

Dear God, Katharine.

Katharine dropped her hand. She squinted her eyes. Sacha? she croaked. Sacha, with her own black eye.

He hit you... Her new friend put an arm around her to steady her, and Katharine suddenly felt safe. Let's get your things, Sacha said urgently.

No, Katharine managed. She lifted her hands and pulled hard on the diamond solitaire encircling her finger. It scored her knuckle and then it came free. Katharine gripped the small circlet in her palm, the stone pinching her flesh.

She opened her hand and the ring tumbled out of her palm. It made a small, hollow sound as it hit the old wood floor, then it fell between the slats and disappeared. I’ve made a terrible mistake, Sacha, Katharine said thickly. Help me get out of here.

Without any questions, Sacha held her.

Katharine leaned on Sacha. She felt broken. She had never felt this way in her life. She was only twenty-one.

Chapter One

Trey Montgomery paused on the gallery's top step, eyes narrowed upon the elegant gold lettering on the glass doors. He sighed, noting the sizeable crowd inside. Apparently Sacha Fortune, a/k/a Katharine Garner, was in the midst of a highly successful art showing.

He jerked at the worn collar of his denim jacket and ducked under the gallery's awning, barely registering the late spring rain as it trickled down his neck. Opening the ornate door, he walked into a marble foyer with gleaming crystal and brass lights.

Trey removed his Stetson, noting the rain droplets which fell onto the polished floor.

He made note of the artwork displayed on the walls, made even more dramatic by the cleverly placed lighting. He found her work breathtaking, the abstract backgrounds vividly blending colors in sharp contrast to the black trees or nature scenes in the foreground. There were about twenty murals in all; fascinated, he took time to study each one in detail. The scenes depicted were of raw, isolated beauty.

He searched the crowd for her. At the end of a sea of formal black and evening attire, he found her. She stood speaking with several women in a circle, arms crossed; it struck him as an aloof pose. In the last eight years, she’d never bothered to step one dainty foot on Garner property, but it was time for Katharine to stop running. Time for her to come home. Her grandfather was ill and needed her.

She turned her head, slowly, her gleaming dark hair swinging past her cheek. Her fine arched brows were drawn together as her gaze met his; she was as beautiful as the pictures he’d seen of her. Something hot and volatile flared in that glance, but almost immediately it was shuttered and suppressed. Wariness settled on her pale features before she turned back to her companions.

Trey thought of the many times Samuel had needed his granddaughter in the last months, the old man's near brushes with death. But Katharine had virtually disappeared one night eight years before. Gone was the blonde-haired cowgirl, and in her place was a sleek, dark-haired woman who'd clearly come into her own power.

From what Trey had gleaned, that young Katharine had had everything handed to her. Samuel had doted on her, but then, with her marriage barely a month old, she’d run from the mess she’d made of her life. From that point on Samuel had been on a slow downward spiral from which he would probably never recover.

With clinical detachment Trey studied the wide eyes, heart-shaped face, the expensive fitted suit, long trim legs and spiked heels. Gone were the wavy blonde curls he’d seen in the dated picture Samuel had on his desk. Her dark hair with its rich auburn highlights had been tamed to form a cap around her head, curling slightly on her shoulders. He wondered if life had chased away the devil in eyes green and sometimes hazel. From this angle her face looked a lot slimmer than the picture he'd seen, as if she'd known some lean years.

Katharine had turned her back on everything that was hers. In sharp contrast, Trey couldn't imagine abandoning anything that was his, and the Rambler Farm was his. He had worked his entire adult life towards making something of himself. He wouldn’t allow Katharine Garner to take what he’d earned, and that was part of what this was about.

Trey squared his shoulders. It was time to introduce himself to Katharine, Samuel Garner's heir.

#

Sacha felt a peculiar ripple of awareness along her shoulders and neck. Moving her shoulders uncomfortably, she tried to shrug away the sensation, but knew it was the man whom she’d caught staring at her. Who was he, she wondered -- and why should she care? she added silently.

She looked around the elegant and tasteful room. The showing of her art had produced an encouraging turnout. People wanted to know about her. They wanted her art and, judging by some of the spaces on the walls, they were willing to pay. She had worked so hard to reach this point, and when the show had been offered to her, she'd jumped at the chance to prove herself.

She rubbed her arms in an attempt to generate warmth. As if drawn to watch him, she stared again at the man with a shadowing of beard, dark jeans and a casual denim jacket covering wide shoulders and a deep chest. Taller than most, his dark hair was parted off center and was cut extremely close on the sides. In his hand dangled a well-creased cowboy hat.

Sacha rejected the immediate jolt of sensual awareness. Sexual attraction, the unexpected and unwanted reaction to a casual meeting of the eyes. Why this man? Why now?

It had been so long since she’d felt that traitorous sensation. She didn't trust it...she did not want it, and she doubted there was a man on this earth who could change her mind. She saw recognition on the stranger’s face, as if he knew her. She did not know him, of that she was certain. Nervously, she pressed her fingers against her jacket buttons, instinct warning her he was not a man who would go away if there was something he wanted.

She gathered her control tightly back into her own court. She wasn't that crazy kid anymore, the one who lived on the dangerous edge of emotion. How many times had she gotten into trouble because of her lack of judgment?

Sacha watched as several people gravitated toward him. A petite blonde woman drew his attention, the smile he gave her one that made the woman take another step closer. Obviously, a man who liked women. Pretty, beautiful women. Her husband had been like that; a man who left behind heartache. She turned her back on his lazy perusal of the woman’s face, an unaccustomed heat moving from her neck into her face. She gave an inward groan, angry that she'd reacted to a total stranger. Looking around, she noted that Harry, the gallery owner, was rearranging some of her paintings to make up for the gaps left by sales.

Sacha, my dear, a soft voice spoke at her side. Sacha turned to the elderly lady. Mrs. Herrington, she recalled. I absolutely love your art. It's so vividly unique. I would love it if we could talk about placing some pieces in my restaurant.

Sacha smiled. I would be happy to discuss your needs, Mrs. Herrington. She reached over to a small glass table that had been set up beside her. Please take one of my cards.

Mrs. Herrington took the proffered card. I will be calling you this week.

Katharine? Sacha stiffened at the huskily uttered query behind her. The voice was rough and sweet at the same time, a lover’s drawl, almost in her ear. Its depth washed over her deep and warm, as if they were old friends, and yet a sort of