Royce picked up the phone and slipped it back into her purse, clicking the purse shut with finality then handing it to her. “It was fun meeting you.”
Amber opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Her father scooped a hand under her elbow and gently urged her to her feet.
She stared at Royce, trying to convey her desperation, hoping he’d understand the look in her eyes and do something to help her. But he didn’t. And her father took a step, and she took a step. And another, and another.
“Amber?” Royce called, and relief shot though her. He knew. He understood. He was coming to her rescue.
But when she turned, he was holding out her engagement ring.
“Amber,” her father admonished, shock clear in his tone.
“My hands were swelling,” she answered lamely.
Royce didn’t bother making eye contact as he dropped the diamond into the palm of her hand.
Two
“Who was that?” Stephanie’s voice startled Royce as he watched Amber exit the lounge on her father’s arm.
Tearing his eyes from the supple figure beneath the gold-and-red dress, he turned to face his sister. Stephanie looked young and unusually feminine in her ice-pink, strapless, satin bridesmaid dress. It had a full, flowing, knee-length skirt and a wide, white sash that matched her dangling, satin-bead earrings.
“Are all women crazy?” he asked, trying to recall the last time he’d seen Stephanie in anything other than riding clothes.
“Yes, we are,” she answered without hesitation, linking her arm with his. “So you probably don’t want to upset us. Like, for example, turning down our perfectly reasonable requests.”
Royce sighed, steering her back to the table as he pushed the bizarre conversation with Amber out of his mind. “What do you want, Steph?”
“A million dollars.”
“No.”
“Hey,” she said, sliding into Amber’s vacated seat as the cocktail waitress removed the empty martini glass. She kicked off one sandal and tucked her ankle under the opposite thigh on the roomy chair. “I’m a woman on the edge here.”
“On the edge of what?” He pushed his half-full drink away. Had Amber’s text message been an elaborate joke? If so, how warped was her sense of humor?
“Sanity,” said Stephanie. “There’s this stallion in London.”
“Talk to Jared.” Royce wasn’t getting caught up in his sister’s insatiable demands for her jumping stable.
“It’s Jared’s wedding night. He already went upstairs. You’re in charge now.”
Royce glanced at his watch. “And you think I’m a soft touch?”
“You always have been in the past.”
“Forget it.”
“His name’s Blanchard’s Run.”
“I said forget it.” He had time for maybe four hours of sleep before he had to get to the airport and preflight the jet.
“But-” Stephanie suddenly stopped, blinking in surprise as she glanced above his head.
“I sent it,” came a breathless voice that Royce already easily recognized.
He jerked his head around to confirm it was Amber.
“Sent what?” asked Stephanie.
Amber’s jewel-blue eyes were shining with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.
She hadn’t.
She wouldn’t.
“Where’s your father?” asked Royce. Was this another warped joke?
“He left. I told him to send the limo back for me later.”
Royce shook his head, refusing to believe any woman would do something that impulsive. “You did not send it.”
But Amber nodded, then she glanced furtively around the lounge. “I figure I have about ten minutes to get out of here.”
“What did you send?” Stephanie demanded. “To who?”
Amber slipped into the vacant third seat between them and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I broke off my engagement.”
Stephanie looked both shocked and excited. She reached for Amber’s hand and squeezed it. “With who?”
“Hargrove Alston.”
“The guy who’s going to run for the Senate?”
Royce stared at his sister in astonishment.
“I read it in People,” she told him with a dismissive wave of her hand. Then she turned her attention back to Amber. “Is he mad? Is he after you now?”
“He’s in Switzerland.”
“Then you’re safe.”
“Not for long. As soon as Hargrove reads my text, he’ll call my dad, and my dad will turn the limo around.”
Stephanie’s lips pursed into an O of concern, and her breath whooshed out.
Amber nodded her agreement, and both women turned expectantly to Royce.
“What?”
“We have to go,” said Stephanie, her expression hinting that he was a little slow on the uptake.
“To Montana,” Amber elaborated.
“Now,” said Stephanie with a nod of urgency.
“They’ll never think to look for me in Montana,” Amber elaborated.
“I’m not taking you to-”
But Stephanie jumped up from her chair. “To the airport,” she declared in a ridiculously dramatic tone.
“Right.” Amber nodded, rising, as well, smoothing her sexy dress over her hips as she stood on her high heels.
“Stop,” Royce demanded, and even the laughing women at the table next to them stopped talking and glanced over.
“Shh,” Stephanie hissed.
Royce lowered his voice. “We are not rushing off to the airport like a bunch of criminals.”
Stephanie planted both hands on the tabletop. “And why not?”
“Six minutes,” Amber helpfully informed them.
He shot her a look of frustration. “Don’t be such a wimp. If he yells at you, he yells at you.”
Amber’s brows rose. “I’m not afraid he’ll yell at me.”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
“I’m afraid he’ll talk me out of it.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re a grown woman. It’s your life.”
“It is,” Amber agreed. “And I want to come to Montana.”
The look she gave him was frank and very adult. Perhaps his first instinct had been right. Maybe there was something between them. Maybe he was the reason she’d made the decision to finally dump the loser fiancé and move on.
He felt a rush of pride, a hit of testosterone and, quite frankly, the throb of arousal. Having Amber around would definitely make Montana more palatable. Only a fool would put barriers in her way.
He stood and tossed a couple of twenties on the table. “The airport, then.”
Since he’d had the martinis, it would be a few hours before he could fly. But there was plenty to do in preparation.
By the time they arrived at the Ryder Ranch, Amber had had second, third, even fourth thoughts. Both her father and Hargrove were powerful men. Neither of them took kindly to opposition, and she’d never done anything remotely rebellious in her life.
Hargrove was probably on a plane right now, heading back to Chicago, intending to find her and demand to know what she was thinking. And her father was likely out interrogating her friends this morning, determined to find out what had happened and where she’d gone.
Katie would be flabbergasted.
Amber had been questioning her feelings for Hargrove for a couple of months now, but she hadn’t shared those fears with Katie. Because, although Katie was a logical and grounded lawyer, she was saddled with an emotional case of hero worship when it came to Hargrove. She thought the sun rose and set on the man. She’d never understand.
Amber had sent her father a final text last night from the airport, assuring him that he didn’t need to worry, that she needed some time alone and that she’d be in contact soon. Then she’d turned off her cell phone. She’d seen enough crime dramas to know there were ways to trace the signal. And Hargrove had friends in both high and low places. Where the police couldn’t accommodate him, private investigators on the South Side would be happy to wade in.