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“I didn’t know your mother and you had such impressive connections.” Ronnie laid thick her accent.
“Mom worked for the Landover family for four years.”
“No kidding?”
“It was years ago. I was a baby. Mama wasn’t much more than a child herself, nineteen. She’d met my father in her first foster home. He’d shown her the ropes, protected her. They were separated, but as soon as he could, he came for her. They married and came to California to start a new life together. He was killed in a car accident not long after I was born.” Anna’s voice dropped. “Mama never loved another.”
She gathered memories. “After my father’s death, Mama got a job on the Landovers’ household staff. She was lucky. The position didn’t pay much, but it included room and board. We lived on the estate, in the back, in a cottage with gingerbread trim.”
Her thoughts drifted further. “Kent was about two years older than me. An only child, he’d been left to the care of nannies and nurses since he was born. His parents were busy people. His father had his businesses, his mother her charities and social intrigues. I was Kent’s first real friend, and he, mine. His parents didn’t approve of the friendship. I was a servant’s child. They spoke to my mother, but when Kent came to our cottage, a lonely child wanting to play, Mama didn’t have the heart to send him away. Sometimes, when Mama was working and Kent’s parents weren’t home, we’d even play at the big house. Games children play—hide-and-seek, ‘Mother, May I…?”’
“Dress-up?” Ronnie asked.
Anna nodded. “It was our favorite. He was always K. C. Cowboy; I was always—”
“The Countess.” Ronnie understood.
Anna had to smile, remembering. “We were happy. Mom was happy, too. She sewed curtains for the cottage, embroidered pillowcases for our beds. She’d never had a real home, but this came close. She had a small salary and a roof over our heads, and, as time went on, I didn’t hear her crying so much in the night. Everything was pretty perfect. I thought it would stay that way forever. I was young.”
“What happened?”
“We would play dress-up and pretend for hours. Sometimes Kent would bring things from the big house for the dress-up box—a scarf, a hat, a necklace, a bracelet. We only saw pretty colors, sparkling stones, tinted lights. I didn’t know until later the jewelry was real. I didn’t know its value. I kept them, thousands of dollars of precious gems, in a box in the back of my closet with a tinfoil tiara and a toy six-shooter set. When they were found, my mother was as shocked as the Landovers. I told them I didn’t know the jewelry was worth so much money. I told them I’d only borrowed it for dress-up. The Landovers didn’t press charges, but we had to leave immediately.”
“But when Kent explained how—?”
“I never told anyone Kent had brought the jewelry. I didn’t want to get him into trouble. I was afraid they wouldn’t let him have any more friends, and he’d be all alone again, like he was before I came. I was five. He was seven.
“We had each other. The rest of the world was ruled by adults who decided what had happened and what would be done. We were only children.”
Her throat tightened. “I never got a chance to say goodbye.”
Ronnie’s eyes widened. “Hold on. The last time you saw this guy, you were five?”
Anna nodded.
“And he walks in here this morning and proposes marriage?” Ronnie shook her head. “He’s cute, but he’s got to be crazy.”
“He said he’d come from the hospital. The back of his shirt says Property of UCLA Medical Center. I came down to check if there was something about an accident or a missing person in the paper this morning. You didn’t see anything, did you?”
“Yeah, right here, on the first page of the business section—Kent Landover Goes Loony Tunes.”
“I’m only trying to figure this out.”
“Honey, if something did happen, they’re not going to issue a press release and start a panicked sell-off of Landover Tech stock. I’d say start with UCLA.”
“I suppose they might be able to explain everything.” Anna sighed. “I’m not sure I want to know. Kent Landover…crazy?”
“I’ve seen crazier on Hollywood Boulevard in broad daylight,” Ronnie said as she went back to scanning the paper. “Maybe he didn’t escape from the loony bin. Maybe he got a batch of mad cow beef. Wait—” Ronnie’s finger stopped halfway down the newspaper page. “There’s something here about Landover Technology.”
“What?” Anna rounded the desk and looked over Ronnie’s shoulder.
“Never mind. Nothing helpful. Speculation about a possible partnership with some Asian company,” Ronnie said, reading. She glanced up at Anna. “You think our cowboy upstairs is interested?”
She shook her head. “Not at the moment.”
They heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. As the back door to the reception area opened, Maureen was saying, “Are you sure you don’t want to lie down a spell, K.C.? Your body is still recovering from your accident yesterday.”
“He only lost it yesterday?” Ronnie whispered to Anna. “And the first thing he does is come looking for you? Can you say ‘stalker’?”
“S-s-s-h-h!” Anna hushed her.
Kent was holding the door open for Anna’s mother. “Ma’am,” he said to her, “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt better in my entire life.” He turned and smiled at Anna.
“Tea and scones.” He looked toward the window. “Sunshine.” His gaze went back to Anna. “And finding the sweetest little gal ever to set foot down on God’s good earth. That’s all an ailing man needs.”
Anna mustered a wan smile.
“Whoa, cowboy.” Ronnie laughed. “You sure do know how to shoot the—”
“Ronnie.” Maureen cut her off. She looked at the two women. “Anna, you haven’t even taken a shower yet? The new girls will be here for orientation in thirty minutes. I would prefer my head trainer doesn’t smell like fish.”
“I was on my way…but then…” She paused, saw Kent eyeing the monitor on the desk. “Ronnie needed help…rebooting the computer.”
“Rebooting?” Kent walked over to the desk. “I’ve heard of reshoeing, but never rebooting.” He stood next to her, stared down at the computer screen.
“Come on,” Ronnie protested. “You practically invented—”
“You don’t know much about computers, K.C.?” Anna interrupted.
He was still studying the screen. “Tell you the truth, darn fangled things scare me to death.”
Anna looked at Ronnie.
Ronnie pantomimed picking up a phone and dialing. “Call the hospital pronto,” she mouthed.
Chapter Three
Anna pulled the quilt up closer to Kent’s throat. Despite his protests, fatigue had overcome him by midafternoon, and he’d relented to Maureen’s urgings to “get a little rest.” Anna came upstairs to check on him ten minutes later, and he was already asleep, his lips curved, smiling at his dreams.
Free from watching eyes, she stared at his face, resisting the urge to touch the cheek dark with a day’s beard. Her heart rose and fell with the movement of his chest. How long had she dreamed one day he’d walk through her door, throw his arms around her and carry her off to a world of their own? How many hours had she imagined watching him as she watched him now, seeing him sleep and knowing his dreams would be of her? How long had the thought of him formed the foundation of her everyday existence?
Forever, her heart whispered.
Her hand rose, her fingertips hovering where his brow met blond curls beginning. The brow was almost smooth now, padded by a slight swell. The long-formed furrows were no more than thin lines. She saw a bruise blending beneath the day’s beard.
Whether he was crazy or not, she’d like to think she’d brought him happiness for brief moments. For he hadn’t been happy. She knew. She’d seen him happy once. She hadn’t seen the same light in his eyes for a long time. At first she’d thought it was the grainy newsprint or the artificial pose of a publicity shot. But gradually she’d realized it wasn’t the picture. It was the man. There was no joy in his features.
Until today.
So she sat inches from the only man she’d ever loved and hoped these short hours together were hours of happiness. She couldn’t, didn’t dare to hope for more. For those eyes, closed now, would one day open and no longer see K. C. Cowboy, no longer see Countess Anna. They’d see Kent Coleman Landover, CEO, board chairman. They’d see Anna Delaney, clean queen. One day the man would wake.
Their worlds had met, aligned once, a long time ago, when they were both unaware of bloodlines or bank accounts. It had ended swiftly. It would end again. The first time, she hadn’t known, and so could be forgiven.
The second time would be pure foolishness.
She rose wearily, suddenly tired herself. She’d postponed calling the hospital, using the excuse of the morning orientation session, then the welcome flurry of phone inquiries. She’d been stalling for time. She left Kent still sleeping, still smiling.
She went into the downstairs conference room, shut the door and dialed. As an electronic voice listed her choice of options, she realized she was uncertain whom she should talk to. Given the public and professional interest surrounding Kent, one word to the wrong person and she risked damaging his reputation and the credibility of his company.
She disconnected and stared down at the receiver. Should she call his office? The company’s powers-that-be must be aware of Kent’s current condition, and, for the good of the company if nothing else, could be counted on for discretion. The receiver’s dial tone began to beep. She punched in Directory Assistance and got the number for Landover Technology.
She asked to be connected to Kent Landover’s office, hoping to speak to whoever was steering the ship while the captain played cowboy. When a woman answered, “Mr. Landover’s office,” Anna gave her name and asked to speak to him. The woman hesitated, then asked what the call was in reference to.
Anna simply said, “K.C.”
A man’s voice came on the line immediately. “What’d you say your first name was?”
“Anna.”
The man moaned. “The countess?”
She was uncertain how to reply.
“This just keeps getting better and better.”
“Who am I speaking to?” Anna asked.
“No. Who am I speaking to?” the man countered.
“I told you my name is Anna Delaney—”
“The countess?”
“No, well, not exactly.”
“This is wonderful. This is rich. Miriam?” the man yelled. Anna pulled the phone away from her ear. “Where’s my Tagamet?”
Without taking a breath, the man demanded, “What exactly is the nature of your current relationship with Kent Landover?”
“I don’t have a current relationship with Kent Landover—”
“But you did?”
“Yes…once…but it was a very long time ago.”
“What was it? A back-seat session in the limo after your coming-out ball? A fling in between semesters at Stanford? That weekend conference in Tahoe? Miriam, the Tagamet!”
Anna struggled to keep her tone controlled. “I’d like to speak to someone else, please.”
“No, sister. I’m your best bet. First of all, only a handful of others know about this situation, but they all have valid incentives to want to keep it that way. However, I doubt the motives of a one-night stand called The Countess. Unless you can fax me the family tree, I say you’re not even royalty.”
“I’m not.” Anna could almost hear the man’s blood pressure rising. “I’m also not a one-night stand.”
“Ha! Listen, lady, I don’t care what kind of relationship you had with Kent. In fact, I don’t even want to know, but if it could threaten the reputation of Kent Landover and this company, I’ll make it my business to know. I’ll dig up every time you so much as crossed against the light if I have to. Then try to go public with the story of your meaningless little affair with Kent. Just try. Do you really think they’ll listen to someone who goes by the name The Countess?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably…not.” She’d stopped the man cold. “Still, you’re still planning to go to the papers with your story?”
“Of course not.”
“Of course…not,” he parroted again, puzzled. “What do you want, then?”
“I called to tell you that Mr. Landover is here with me.”
“Good God!” His voice burst through the speaker. “You’ve kidnapped him.”
Anna waited a second, then put the phone back to her ear.
The man was still talking, threatening. “…and I’ll hunt you down and personally throttle you with—”
“I did not kidnap Mr. Landover.” Anna made each word distinct. Her initial indignation, however, was tempered by the concern she heard in the man’s voice.
“No, he just signed himself out of the hospital and walked in your door this morning?”
“Is that what the hospital told you? When did they start letting patients sign themselves out of the psychiatric ward?”
“Psychiatric ward?” The phone in Anna’s hand vibrated. “He wasn’t in the psychiatric ward. He’s not crazy.”
“I see.” The more enraged the man’s voice became, the calmer Anna kept her responses. “Then the cowboy thing is a midlife career change?”
There was a pause, then the man said, “Kent Landover had an accident yesterday. He swerved to avoid hitting a bus and lost control of his vehicle. Fortunately, he only suffered a concussion. Unfortunately, as a result of the head injury, he has amnesia.”
“Amnesia.” She said it once, then twice more as if the word had magical powers. “That’s wonderful.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“He’s not crazy?”
“Believe me, Kent Landover is the sanest, most sensible man I know, and I can assure you, and the doctors can assure you, he’ll return to that sane, sensible man any minute now. But until then, he believes he’s a cowboy named K.C. in love with a countess named Anna.”
“I know.” She spoke quietly.
“Ms…?”
“Delaney,” she again filled in.
“Ms. Delaney, my name is Leon Skow. I’m executive vice president and one of the original investors in Landover Technology. I’m also Kent’s friend. I’m beginning to think you are, too. Am I right?”
