Callie had lied to Wes. And she hated it. But something in her gut told her it was necessary. He’d given her access to the Monet painting and in the last two days she’d done as he asked and forged the painting. Stroke for stroke. It was perfect. Even she, someone who was constantly doubting her own skill, had to admit it was a remarkable replica. She’d made the piece Wes needed and it would be bait for the art thief. But that wasn’t what made her tense with shame.
Her secret wasn’t technically a lie, not really. The guilt at concealing something from him was strong. If she dared to share it with Wes, it might jeopardize her own plan to catch the thief. She knew Wes was doing what he thought was best, but Callie had ranch instincts. That sense of when a storm is coming, even if you can’t s
