He couldn’t help watching her rear end as she walked away. The woman had the sexiest body he’d ever seen. He supposed that’s what happened when you combined natural beauty, fresh air and healthy living. The hot got hotter.

Abigail was scorching.

He followed her outside to where semicircular, stone steps led to a gravel parking lot. They were bordered by the castle lawns on the lake side and by forests of maples, aspens and evergreen trees stretching up the hill on the other. As August wound to a close, the barest hint of changing leaves had appeared. Beyond the tree line, the mountains turned to scrub and then craggy rock.

The expanse of green lawn stretched toward a rocky cliff that dropped to Lake Patricia. At the cliff’s edge was a massive statue of Lord Ashton, chest puffed out, sword drawn, perched on a magnificent charger that seemed to gallop toward the water.

Zach had to admit, if it wasn’t for the worry about DFB’s future and the discord with Abigail, he would have enjoyed his stay here. He’d taken a small but very comfortable suite on the third floor of the castle. He’d even poked his head up to the small, dusty, rotund turrets. Lucas was right, the castle was a treasure trove of memorabilia.

“That’s the statue of Lord Ashton,” Zach offered as an opening.

“Is he currently brewing beer?” Abigail tartly inquired.

“He is not.”

“Then I don’t need to know about him.” She rounded on Zach. “Can we move it along? Let’s stick to the things I need to know.”

Zach couldn’t really blame her for being testy. And blackmailing her wasn’t exactly his most admirable undertaking. But life was tough. You took your advantages where you could. And in a few days, she’d be finished with him, and she’d be back in the bosom of her family, doing the ranch job she hated, none the worse for wear.

Come to think of it. She should be grateful to him for giving her a reprieve from roping and riding and branding. He wondered if he’d be able to make her see it that way, or at least get her to admit that he wasn’t dragging her to the gallows. Helping Craig Mountain get a few thousand more gallons of water each day wasn’t going to fundamentally change anything, except the lives of Zach’s employees. And that would be for the good.

“The brewery’s down this path,” he offered, nodding the way.

She reluctantly fell into step beside him. “And I need to see it why?”

“We brew C Mountain Ale up here,” Zach began. “It’s Craig Mountain’s signature product, and its unique taste comes, in part, from the local, underground springwater.” They rounded a corner of the path, and the gray, industrial complex came into view. “Nationwide and worldwide, hundreds of microbreweries are going under in today’s economy. We’re in danger of joining them, except that we have one product that’s taking our national and international markets by storm. Our Red, White and Brew six-pack.”

“Red, White and Brew?”

“Very patriotic packaging. Consumers love it. It contains one beer from each of our breweries. They’re in six different states. All the other facilities can keep up with the increased demand. But we need to triple production of C Mountain Ale.”

“Why not replace C Mountain Ale with another beer?” she reasoned.

“Because it’s one of the most popular in the pack. When you find the X factor in the beer business, in any business, you don’t mess with it.”

“Find another water source. It’s water, Lucky. Water.”

“From where?” He stopped and gestured around them. “From the lake? The river? Surface water is vastly different in chemical composition. It would need a different treatment. The taste would change. And-and this is the most important point-I’d have to get the bloody water license to do that anyway.”

She didn’t seem to have an answer for that.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to hit on the exact formula for a popular beer?” he continued.

“Do you know how hard it is to lie to your family?”

“No,” he stated flatly. “I don’t.”

They stared at each other in charged silence.

“Then why are you making me do it?”

Zach’s heart contracted, and he was forced to push down an unfamiliar feeling of guilt. “I’m not. You can tell your family anything you want.”

“If I’d told them the truth, I wouldn’t be here.”

“And your secret’s safe with me.”

“My conscience isn’t.”

“Your conscience will get over it.” People had to do what they had to do in this life. It was a tiny bit of white lie, one of omission really. Zach had done far worse, and his conscience was perfectly clear.

“I’m going to hate you, Zach,” she warned.

“I guess I’m going to have to find a way to live with that.”

“You couldn’t care less, could you?”

“No. I could care a whole lot less than I do.” Truth was, he cared far more than he should. But his duty was to Alex and to his employees. He had to stay tough. He couldn’t let his personal feelings for Abigail get in the way.


* * *

Abigail tried very hard not to show an interest in the inner workings of the brewery. But the manager made the tour quite fascinating, and she found herself impressed by the scope of the operation.

“The bottling plant-” wearing a hat and safety glasses, Lucas projected his voice over the rumble of the motors, the whir of the conveyors and the clatter of the bottles running past them toward the filling station “-is the one place we won’t need any kind of upgrade. It’s currently only operating at eighteen percent capacity, so there’s plenty of room for growth. Good call on that when you bought it.” He tipped his head to Zach.

Zach nodded an acknowledgment of the compliment but didn’t offer a response over the din. They bypassed the labeling conveyor to go through a swinging doorway, shutting out much of the noise. Then they headed down a short hallway that seemed to be leading them back to the warehouse.

Halfway down the hall, Lucas opened a door to a large, dimly lit room. It was lined with banks of computers, monitors and electrical panels that featured a host of blinking lights. “This is the nerve center of the operation.”

Just then, Zach’s cell phone rang. He peeled off the hat and safety glasses they’d been issued for the brewery leg of the tour, excusing himself to move farther down the hall.

Abigail removed her own hat and glasses, handing them to Lucas as they moved farther into the control room. Two staff members were walking from station to station, noting numbers and turning dials.

“We can monitor temperature, humidity, production, supplies and shipping,” said Lucas. “You name it.”

“Are all of the DFB breweries this big?” Abigail found herself asking.

“Craig Mountain is the smallest,” Lucas replied. “But we’ve had some of the most recent upgrades, so we like to think we can hold our own.”

“I’m sure you can. I have to say, I’m very impressed.” The place seemed high-tech and very well run.

Lucas rested his butt against the edge of one of the long, black-topped counters. “And I have to say it’s nice of you to help us out with this.”

She retied her ponytail, compressing her lips. She had no intention of discussing the sordid details, but she wasn’t willing to tell an outright lie. “Helping Craig Mountain wasn’t my choice,” she admitted.

He cocked his head. “I have to admit, I was surprised to hear that you’d said yes.”

She tried to guess how much he knew about the blackmail. He seemed to be seeking information.

“Was it out of pity?” he probed.

“I’d call it insanity,” she responded. “If Seth or Travis find out I’m doing this-”

Lucas came upright. “Wait a minute. Your brothers don’t know you’re here?”

Abigail stilled, a sinking feeling creeping into her stomach. “Zach didn’t tell you to keep this a secret?”

“You helping us is a secret?”

“Yes.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Abigail shook her head. Then she swallowed. Oh, no.

Lucas slipped an arm through hers. With a surreptitious glance at the two employees over his shoulder, he propelled her out the door and into the hallway. There, they all but ran into Zach.

“Please tell me there’s more to this plan,” Lucas opened, staring accusingly at his boss.

Zach moved his confused gaze from Lucas to Abigail and back again. “What plan?”

“She’s known, Zach. She’s recognizable.”

Zach didn’t respond, taking a moment to tuck his phone back into his pocket.

Lucas wasn’t finished. “How in the hell is she going to explain being here?”

Zach’s jaw went tight in obvious annoyance at Lucas’s manner. “The details are none of your business.”

“This brewery is my business,” Lucas returned.

“Let’s discuss this in private,” Zach ground out.

But Lucas shook his head. “Fire me if you want to, but this isn’t Houston or Denver. She’s the mayor’s sister. She has no anonymity. We need to get her out of here before people start asking questions.”

Abigail knew with a sickening certainty that Lucas was right. When she agreed to meet Zach up here, she hadn’t realized so many people worked at Craig Mountain. Most of them probably lived in Lyndon. She could only hope her hat and glasses had kept her from being recognized on the tour. But she was playing with fire, and she needed to get out of here.

“Everything we need to work with is in the offices,” Zach pointed out. “She has to do it here.”

“Well, it can’t be during business hours. Bring her back later, preferably in the middle of the night. And put her in a disguise of some kind.”

“I’m standing right here,” Abigail couldn’t help interjecting.

Both men glanced at her.

“You’re talking about me as if I’m not,” she pointed out, feeling miffed.

“Sorry,” said Lucas.