The Wrong Woman. Linda Warren
weekends.”
“Just be glad your sister didn’t see it.”
The waitress brought the coffee and took their order.
“Speaking of Molly…how is she?” Travis asked.
“Not good and neither is Pop,” he said truthfully. “Molly’s depressed and Pop’s worried about her, and it’s getting to him.”
“My being there’s not gonna help.”
“You might be surprised.” Ethan met his eyes.
“Ethan,” Travis groaned, and changed the subject. “How’s Cole handling all this?”
“He’s angry as hell at his father, which is understandable. I’m just glad he and Molly are at the ranch with us. Listen, they’d both like it a lot if you could come for a visit…maybe just a weekend. That’s all I’m asking. A weekend out of your life.”
Their breakfast arrived and Travis didn’t answer. They ate in silence. Finally Travis wiped his mouth. “Okay, I’ll come home next weekend.”
Ethan smiled—he couldn’t help it. “Thanks,” he said. “Why don’t you call Molly and tell her?”
“So she won’t think you pressured me?” Travis grinned.
“Something like…” His voice trailed off as he noticed a woman sitting in a corner by herself. There were papers scattered on the table and she was reading them as she drank coffee. Ethan blinked. It couldn’t be, he told himself. But there she was, the redheaded stripper. Looking a bit different, but it was her, he was sure of it. Her hair was pulled back and clipped in a knot, and she wore a brown business suit. The face was the same, though. He had studied it thoroughly last night and he’d know her anywhere.
“Ethan, what are you staring at?” Travis asked.
“I can’t believe it.”
“What?” Travis turned and followed Ethan’s gaze. “Well, I’ll be damned! It’s her, isn’t it?”
“Turn around and quit staring.”
Travis glanced at Ethan. “I’m going over to say hi.”
“No,” Ethan said. “Her life is her business.”
“You said she was scared and being forced to strip. Well, she doesn’t look too scared now. I’m gonna prove to you how wrong you were.”
Before Ethan could stop him, Travis was out of the booth and marching toward the woman. Ethan slowly followed.
“Howdy,” Travis said, and she raised her head. Ethan recognized the sparkling blue of her eyes, but he saw no fear in them today, just annoyance.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“No, but I know you,” Travis said glibly.
She arched a fine eyebrow. “You do?”
“Yeah, and you look as good with your clothes on as you do with them off.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said in a haughty tone. “If this is a come-on, it’s not working and I wish you’d leave.”
Ethan put his arm around Travis’s shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. He’s forgotten his manners. We’re sorry if we bothered you.”
Travis shook off Ethan’s arm. “Yeah, and to make up for it, when you get off work tonight, I’ll take you out for an early breakfast. How’s that?”
She frowned. “Get off work? What are you talking about?”
Travis placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her. “The strip joint, honey. If you want to keep it a secret, that’s fine with me.”
“A strip joint? You think I work in a strip joint?”
“I know it for a fact,” Travis told her. “And you don’t just work there, you’re the star attraction.”
Her eyes narrowed to mere slits. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m calling the police.”
Ethan knew when enough was enough. If the woman had a secret, it was hers to keep. He caught Travis by the collar and pulled him away. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I apologize for the intrusion.” He pushed his brother toward the door.
Outside Travis straightened his shirt. “What the hell did you do that for?” he growled. “She may be able to fool you, but she can’t fool me.”
“She has a right to her privacy.”
“You didn’t think so last night. You wanted to rescue her.”
“Something’s different today. I can’t explain it.”
“She’s all prim and proper and…” Travis let out a long breath, his irritation evaporating. “God, she’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Ethan agreed, glancing through the café window. In that instant he made a decision. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“What are you—”
Travis’s words faded as Ethan entered the restaurant. He took out his wallet and removed a business card, then walked over to her table and placed it in front of her. She drew back as if to brace herself.
“My name’s Ethan Ramsey. I’m a private investigator. If you need any help, just give me a call.”
Her eyes caught his. “Contrary to what your brother might think, I am not a stripper. He’s mistaken me for someone else.”
“If you say so.” Ethan knew he should walk away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. She was so sincere—and so different from the woman last night. What was it that pulled him to her? He didn’t know, but he had to do what he’d told Travis—respect her privacy. He tipped his hat. “Good day, ma’am.”
“Mr. Ramsey?” she called, and he turned back.
“Does she really look like me?”
He was taken aback by the question, but he answered truthfully. “A dead ringer.”
“I see,” she murmured, and rose to her feet. “I assure you it wasn’t me.”
“You’ve said that.”
“And you don’t believe me?”
Ethan took a step toward her. “I’m not sure what to believe, but the woman last night hated stripping. I thought she might need some assistance. That’s why I left my card. If you’re not her, just throw it away.” He inclined his head and walked to the door.
SERENA FARRELL stared after the tall man and she noticed that he limped slightly, but it didn’t diminish his aura of strength and capability. Not that she needed either one. A stripper? It was too ludicrous to think about.
As she stuffed papers into her briefcase, she could see him through the window talking to the other man. They were definitely brothers—same brown hair and eyes. Ethan Ramsey was the leaner and taller of the two. His brother also had an attitude, while Ethan seemed compassionate. He had warm eyes, and for some reason he seemed worried about her. There was no need to be. She wasn’t a stripper who required his assistance. She was a teacher and taught art at a local high school. She’d met the father of one of her students here this morning; he worked during the week so she’d arranged to meet him on a Saturday. His son had remarkable artistic skills, but he saw that as being sissy and not macho enough. She’d tried to convince him otherwise, but the father was macho to the core and didn’t like his son sitting around drawing pictures. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t accept his son’s talent and encourage him, but then, dealing with parents was the hardest part of her job.
“Hey, Serena, who was the good-looking guy you were talking to?” Daisy, the waitress,