Sunset Promises
Read this classic romance by New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy!
Seized by vise-like contractions, Colette Connor prayed she wasn’t going to deliver on the Connor ranch doorstep. With no recollection of who she is or how she got pregnant, she has nowhere else to turn. Only the knowing eyes and the incendiary kisses of stranger Hank Cooper disturb her more.
With the keen instincts of a professional bodyguard, Hank had anticipated Colette’s arrival. But he wasn’t prepared for her amnesia—or the baby. While her missing memories might help protect her from a killer, they’re defenseless against Hank, who is the only man who holds the answers to all her questions…and more.
Originally published in 1997
“Have we met before?”
Hank quickly assessed his options, knowing if he told Colette yes, she’d want to know the details. It was better she not know. Not remembering those details just might save her life.
He looked at the baby in the crib, recalled cradling her little body in his arms. “No,” he answered, then balling his hands into fists, he turned and left.
Colette watched him go, the murmur of fear dancing inside her. Who was Hank Cooper, and why did he affect her so strongly? She had the distinct feeling he’d lied, that she did know him from someplace other than this ranch.
Why would he lie about knowing her? What had he been in her past? And why was he so interested in her baby?
She picked up her infant, needing to hold her close, assure herself of the child’s safety. She walked to the window. Staring out, she remembered the nightmare that had plagued her the night before. The eyes she’d dreamed of, she now realized, had been Hank’s eyes.
Sunset Promises
Carla Cassidy
CARLA CASSIDY
Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Silhouette Books. In 1995, she won the Best Silhouette Romance award from Romantic Times BOOKreviews for her novel Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from Romantic Times BOOKreviews.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
Moonlight filtered through the leaves of the ancient oak tree, shining silvery shards of light onto the three girls seated directly beneath its gnarled, misshapen branches.
For as long as the girls could remember, the tree had been referred to as the dragon tree. Their mother had told them the tree had been struck by lightning dozens of times, resulting in blackened twisted branches and dense foliage that through the spring and summer grew in the shape of a dragon. In the autumn, the magnificent beast appeared to shed fire-colored scales.
Rather than be frightened, the three girls had embraced the tree, fitting it into their childhood fantasies of princes and castles, of princesses and love. And the words, “the dragon tree,” had become their secret code…a phrase that always resulted in a late night meeting at its foot.
“What’s going on?” Colette, the youngest of the three, looked expectantly at her two other sisters. At twelve, Colette possessed the impatience of a newborn colt trying to stand. She leaned against the trunk of the tree, slivers of moonbeams highlighting her youthful features.
“Yeah, Abby. What’s going on? Why’d you call us here?” Belinda asked. At thirteen years old, Belinda was the middle sister, often the peacemaker between the slightly spoiled Colette and the often controlling Abby.
Fifteen-year-old Abby wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth, the moonlight caressing her straight nose and the strong thrust of her jaw. “I found some papers today in Mom’s dresser drawer.”
“What kind of papers?” Belinda asked.
Abby looked first at Belinda, then at Colette. “Adoption papers.”
The words hung in the air, seemingly isolated from the other sounds of the night. Although they had been whispered, they resounded louder than the lowing of the cattle in the distance, more pronounced than the high-pitched neigh of a horse from the nearby corral and much more frightening than the eerie echoing howl of a coyote in the hills.
“Adoption papers?” Belinda finally broke the silence. “Adoption papers for who?”
“I didn’t look.” Abby pulled a hand through her short blond hair. “It was just a manila envelope and written on it was ‘adoption papers.’ I saw it, then heard Mom coming down the hall so I didn’t get a chance to open it. I went back in later to look, but the papers weren’t there anymore.”
“But…but that means one of us must be…”
“No,” Colette interrupted. “No, I don’t want to hear about it, I don’t even want to think about it.” She leaned forward and reached for Abby’s hand, then grabbed Belinda’s, as well. “We’re sisters. The three of us and no stupid papers will ever change that.”
“Belinda? Do you feel the same way about it?” Abby asked.
Belinda squeezed both her sisters’ hands. “Of course. I don’t ever want to know which one of us might be in that folder.”
Abby withdrew her hands and reached into her pocket. “I was hoping you guys would say that.” She pulled out a large safety pin. “I vote we become blood sisters and we vow we’ll never try to find out which one of us might be adopted.” She opened the wicked-looking pin, the sharp point gleaming in the moonlight. Colette and Belinda watched as she pricked her skin. As the blood welled up on her fingertip, she handed the pin to Belinda, who did the same and passed the pin to Colette.
Colette frowned, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Do it for me, Belinda,” she said, holding out her finger and squeezing her eyes tightly closed.
A squeal escaped her at the sharp sting of the puncture. She opened her eyes, keeping her gaze on her sisters and averted from the blood.
“Sisters forever,” Abby proclaimed solemnly, holding her finger toward them.
“Sisters forever,” Belinda echoed, pressing her finger against Abby’s.
“And no matter what happens, we never read those stupid papers,” Colette exclaimed. She waited for Abby and Belinda to nod their heads in agreement, then added her finger to theirs, forming a triangle of unity.
With the innocence of youth and the optimism of girlhood, they truly believed it was a vow they could keep. In the distance, thunder rumbled, sounding like Fate’s laughter as dark clouds moved to steal the moonlight from the sky.
CHAPTER ONE
The pains began the moment her plane touched down at the Cheyenne, Wyoming, airport. By the time she got into the back of the cab to carry her to the Connor ranch, the pains shot through her with a regularity that terrified her.
“Lady, are you okay?” The driver frowned at her in his rearview mirror. “You ain’t gonna have that baby right here in my cab, are you?”
“I certainly hope not.” She rubbed her protruding stomach and drew in a deep breath. “How much farther to the Connor ranch?”
“Not far, just over the next hill.” As if sensing her imminent delivery, the driver stepped on
the gas, encouraging the old car to go faster.
She leaned her head against the seat, willing herself to try to relax, drawing air deep into her lungs. The pain battled with fear, the fear that had ridden her like a demon since that morning she’d awakened in a hotel room in Las Vegas.
Shivering, she remembered that moment when sleep had fallen away and she’d sat up in the bed, not knowing where she was or how she had gotten there. More frightening was the realization that she had no idea who she was, only that she was very pregnant and had no memory of anything beyond that moment in time.
A purse lying on the end of the bed had held the answer to who she was. The driver’s license inside had displayed a photo of her with the name of Colette Connor. Unfortunately, the license hadn’t answered many other questions, like how she had come to be in the hotel room and whose baby she carried.
A suitcase had yielded clothes, an envelope of money and letters written to her and mailed from a ranch in Wyoming. The ranch was the same address as the one on her driver’s license. Not knowing what else to do, Colette had hopped a plane to Cheyenne, hoping she would find welcome and answers at the Connor ranch.
As the driver turned off onto a dirt road, Colette grabbed her stomach and swallowed a moan as another pain ripped through her. Tears blurred her vision as she rode the wave of pain, vaguely aware of the taxi driver’s frantic muttered curse from the front seat.
“Hang tight, missy,” the driver exclaimed, pulling her back to the present. “The Connor ranch is just ahead.”
Colette sat up straighter, hoping the landscape would jog her errant memory. A flat plain of scrub grass stretched out seemingly endless. The only break in the monotony was buttes of rock jutting upward and the distant foothills of a mountain range.
Nothing. No sudden flash of insight, no burst of released memories. Nothing. Dammit, what had happened to her to steal her memories? Why couldn’t she tear aside the black curtain that obscured her own identity?
The driver turned onto another dirt road, then crested a hill. “There it is,” he said, pointing to the ranch spread out in the valley just at the foot of the hills.
Was this home? Colette wondered, fighting against another contraction, this one stealing her breath away. Would she find family here? Somebody who could fill in all the blank spaces in her mind? Would she find a man waiting for her, frantic with worry? She wore no wedding or engagement ring but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a special someone in her life. So where was he now? Why was she alone?
They crossed beneath a wooden sign announcing Welcome and the driver passed a number of outbuildings and corrals before pulling to a stop in front of a sprawling ranch house.
The driver, obviously eager to be rid of her, hurried from his seat and unloaded her suitcase from the trunk. Colette didn’t move. Despite the viselike contraction that squeezed her, the physical pain couldn’t touch the fear that riveted through her as she stared at the unfamiliar house. What if she wasn’t welcome here? Maybe her family had disowned her, thrown her from the house months before. What if there was nobody here who would help her?
She jumped as a tall blond woman walked out of the house, a smile of welcome on her lips as she approached the taxi. Colette’s heart beat rapidly as an odd familiarity whispered through her. She opened the door and with an effort stepped out. Leaning against the cab, she wrapped her arms around her burgeoning stomach as another pain stabbed through her.
The smile of welcome fell from the woman’s lips, replaced by shocked recognition. “Colette? Oh, my God.” She raced to Colette’s side and placed an arm around her. With a single glance she assessed the situation. “Cody,” she yelled to the little boy lingering on the porch, “run and get Doctor Washburn. Tell him Aunt Colette is home and it appears she’s about to deliver a baby.” Without hesitation he took off running toward one of the outbuildings.
“Please…help me,” Colette whispered weakly.
“Shh, of course we’re going to help you.” The woman’s arms offered additional feelings of familiarity, and Colette knew whoever she was, she was somebody important in Colette’s life. “Bulldog,” the woman yelled. A tall, thickset young man rounded the side of the house, his moon-shaped face unlined save a vacant smile.
“Abby, can I help?” The deep masculine voice came from one side of Colette. She turned her head to see a tall, raven-haired cowboy. A faint coating of dust and dark stubble covered well-defined features. Somehow Colette knew with a certainty that beneath his five o’clock shadow hid a dimple in his chin. A black wide-brimmed hat obscured his eyes, but as he reached out a hand and touched the swell of her belly, she hissed inwardly.
Her breath caught in her throat and for just a moment she felt as though she’d run right into the arms of danger—she hadn’t escaped. The thought was alien, nonsensical and quickly swallowed by another crashing wave of contraction that nearly bent her double.
“I think we can handle it,” Abby said to the cowboy. “Bulldog, please carry Colette up to her room. And, Bulldog…be gentle.”
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. Abby.” With the ease of Hercules, the round-faced man called Bulldog swept Colette up into his arms. As he carried her to the front door, she was vaguely aware of Abby paying the cabdriver and sending him on his way.
She looked over Bulldog’s shoulder, seeking the cowboy who’d startled her, but he was nowhere to be found, making her wonder if he’d been a figment of her pain-crazed mind.
The names—Abby, Cody, Bulldog—all rang distant chords of memory, and Colette felt if she could just have a moment without the pains she could pull it all together, remember everything. But the pain was constant, feeling as if it would rip her apart, tear her asunder.
As Bulldog gently placed her on the bed in a small bedroom, she felt all rational thought dissipate beneath the overriding torment of giving birth.
Her body was beyond her control, as was her mind, and she gave herself up to the primal instinct of survival.
It didn’t take her long to lose track of time. The pains came one after another and despite the fact that Dr. Washburn kept assuring her she was doing fine, she feared she would die. The thought of dying without knowing who she was, who the baby’s father was, why she couldn’t remember, caused her to hold tight to Abby’s hand. Through her moans, she tried to tell Abby about her confusion, but knew she wasn’t making sense.
“Push, Colette,” Abby coached. “Come on, you can do it. Push.”
The words echoed in Colette’s mind. Instantly a splintered memory filled her head….
“Push, Colette. Come on, Belinda and I can’t do it all alone.” The wagon was heavy, laden with treasures and goodies for a picnic beneath the dragon tree. Belinda and Abby were pulling and Colette was at the rear to push the wagon up the hill. But whenever her sisters weren’t looking, Colette sat on the edge of the wagon, getting a brief ride until one of them turned around and yelled at her once again.
* * *
“I CAN SEE the head. Come on, honey. Just a little bit more,” Abby encouraged, and as she had so many years before, Colette did what her big sister bid. She drew in a deep breath, then bore down, screaming in relief as Abby shouted triumphantly and the baby cried a lusty hello to the world.
“It’s a girl,” Abby exclaimed, tears glistening in her eyes as she wiped Colette’s forehead with a damp cloth. “Oh, Colette, you did a terrific job and you’ve got a beautiful daughter.”
The doctor placed the tiny child in a blanket that smelled of sunshine and fresh air and laid her in the crook of Colette’s arms. Euphoric joy suffused Colette as she looked at the child…her daughter. A wealth of dark hair covered the little head, and solemn deep blue eyes regarded Colette in an expression something between wisdom and amusement. It was as if the child, in the moments after birth, possessed all the answers of the universe.
With a yawn the baby nestled against the warmth of Colette’s body and closed her eyes. Fierce protectiveness welled up inside Colette and she strok
ed the tiny face with a gentle finger. This baby, this child, had no name and no memories, born to a mother who had no recollection of her own past. She stared at the little face, wondering if the baby resembled her daddy. Oh, God, where was the father? Why hadn’t he been with her? Who was he? Why couldn’t she remember?
Tears burned hot and she blinked them away, refusing to give in to the despair that clawed at her insides. She needed answers. More importantly, she needed to find out why she felt as if she were running from something…or someone.
* * *
DAMN HER!
Hank Cooper would have given anything to unleash the most vulgar string of curse words his twisted mind could create, but instead he sank onto a bench outside the barn. The late afternoon sun washed his back and shoulders with a balmy warmth. He half smiled sardonically, too bad the warmth would never penetrate into his soul. He’d thought she might come back here, back to her roots, back to the ranch. He was rarely wrong.
He swept his hat off his head and slapped it against his knee, his thoughts whirling like dust across the prairie. He didn’t think she’d recognized him, but he knew better than to trust her. Still, he’d seen no recognition in her eyes, not even when he’d touched her. He clenched his hand, trying not to think of that moment when his hand had gently touched her stomach.
He’d been shocked when he’d seen her get out of the taxi, her stomach protruded, her features twisted in pain. Although he’d known she was pregnant, the reality of her physical condition hadn’t hit him until he’d seen her ready to give birth.
“Hi, Hank.”
Hank looked up to see Bulldog, his round face decorated with his usual friendly smile. Hank nodded curtly, not particularly interested in company.
Bulldog sat next to Hank, the bench creaking beneath his sturdy weight. “Want one?” he asked, holding out a handful of peppermint candy. Hank shook his head. Bulldog popped several pieces into his mouth. “Colette came home,” he said, sending toward Hank the sweet scent of the candy.