A Hero for Sophie Jones (The Jones Gang #9) by Christine Rimmer

Author:Christine Rimmer [Rimmer, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

About an hour after Sinclair had left for the day, Sophie sat on a stool in the hayloft, checking the sprockets on her aging projector, trying to figure out which one might be sticking. Last Sunday, the old monster had nearly burned a hole in the first reel.

Naturally though, right now, it seemed to be working all right.

"Hello? Is anyone up there?" It was a woman's voice, one Sophie didn't recognize. The voice came from the foot of the ladder that led up to the loft.

Sophie rose from the stool and went to the top of the ladder. A tall, black-haired fashion plate of a woman stood below. "Sophie B. Jones?"

"That's me."

"The big man at the stables said I might find you here. I wonder, could I steal a few minutes of your time?"

"Sure. Be right down." Sophie returned to the projector, swiftly rewound the short bit of test reel and turned the thing off.

The woman watched from the foot of the ladder as Sophie climbed down. "You actually run a movie theater in here?"

Sophie jumped from the last rung, brushed off her hands and shook out her long skirt. "You bet."

The woman looked up toward the rafters and then right at Sophie. "Charming." Her inflection said she found the barn—and Sophie herself—anything but.

Sophie moved back a step. "You didn't say your name."

"Willa. Willa Tweed."

The name rang a bell somewhere far back in her mind, but Sophie couldn't quite remember why. She gestured at the rows of theater seats that marched away from them, down toward the screen. "Have a chair."

Willa Tweed licked her lips—nervously, it seemed to Sophie. "No. I think it's better if I stand." She took in a long breath and let it out slowly. "I have to admit, now that I'm here, I simply do not know how to begin…" She let the words trail off. A long, significant pause ensued, a pause in which Sophie's own uneasiness increased. Finally the woman spoke again. "I've come about Sin."

Sophie felt more confused by the moment. Was the woman a representative of some religious group? "About sin? I'm afraid I don't—"

"Sin," Willa Tweed said again, impatiently. "Sin Riker."

"You mean … Sinclair?"

The woman's mouth tightened. "Yes. Sinclair Riker. My fiancé. That's exactly who I mean."

Right then, Sophie remembered where she'd heard the woman's name before:

"There was someone," Sinclair had said. "It didn't work out."

And Sophie had asked, "What was her name?"

He had answered, "Willa."

Sophie said very carefully, "I don't understand. Sinclair told me it was over between you and him."

The woman laughed, a brittle angry sound. "Oh, I'm sure he did. I'm sure he told you whatever he thought you wanted to hear."

Sophie fell back a step. "No. I don't believe that. I don't believe he would—"

Willa threw up a hand. "You have no idea what Sin is capable of." She made a low, derisive sound. "Honestly. Your own situation says it all."

Sophie's heart was pounding way too fast. She put a hand against it, in a pointless effort to make it slow down.

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