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“Barn doors and horses, honey,” she muttered, as her mother had said so often.
Ugh. Her poised, polished, pillar-of-society mother would be devastated to learn of what her daughter had really been up to in California. Cathy Jackson Logan had not raised her daughter to act in such a manner. Her parents hadn’t wanted her to study there in the first place; this would simply confirm that they never should have let her go.
Now, if Carrie’s cousin, Jessica, had taken photos like this, no one would have blinked. They’d have expected it, even.
Outside the window, a pair of young boys on bikes waved at her. She waved back.
This would change everything. Carrie Logan was a role model, and not just to her younger brother and sister. She volunteered at the animal shelter, gave blood, sponsored fund-raisers, attended town meetings. She was a good girl, an asset to the town, an example of the excellent stock founded on the great Nathan Jackson.
But she was also Carrie Logan, who’d once secretly taken titillating, sensual photos. For money.
Pornography. That’s what they’d call it.
She swallowed. It was one thing to let down her parents; disappointing her Grandpa Nate was another thing entirely.
No, she had to contain this disaster, no matter what it cost.
She went back to her desk and changed her search parameters to “internet security expert Montana.” Some of the same links appeared, but there was one new one.
Ethan Nash Cyber-Security.
Something twigged. She’d heard that name before, but where? In what context?
She clicked on the website. There was very little information, no photo of the man, just a home page listing his credentials and another with endorsements from satisfied customers. Apparently, he’d consulted for numerous Fortune 500 companies, as well as government agencies, before retiring to the private sector.
Why did that name ring a bell?
“Let’s see what they say about you, Mr. Ethan Nash,” she murmured.
The testimonials were impressive.
“Discreet,” said one.
“Well worth his fee,” said another.
“Saved my business.”
“Protected my customers after an attack by a disgruntled employee.”
“Found areas of vulnerability I wasn’t even aware of.”
“Helped me understand the issue so I can prevent similar problems in the future.”
And the accolades kept coming.
Authoritative but respectful. Friendly. Professional. Knowledgeable without being condescending. Understanding. Friendly. Trustworthy. Friendly.
It seemed this Ethan Nash was more than competent; he was somewhere between Superman, Wolfman and Mr. Darcy.
And don’t forget, friendly.
High praise, if it was true.
But if she had heard the name before, it was not in such a positive connection.
She went back to the search engine and typed in Ethan Nash Cherry Lake.
And there it was. Of course.
There was an Ethan Nash in Cherry Lake. According to the old real estate listing that popped up, he’d moved to the area a few years ago, after purchasing the old Lewis homestead up on Mission Range Road.
She sat back in her chair as the memories clicked into place. Surely this wasn’t the same man.
Only a few people had met him and friendly was not the word they used to describe him.
Entitled. Rich. Reclusive. Rude.
That was the Ethan Nash of Cherry Lake.
He sounded like a different man entirely.
She checked the address of the real estate listing against the address on his website.
Nope. One and the same.
Now what?
She cringed at the thought of letting some mysterious stranger see these photos.
Then again, she thought, maybe there was more to him than what she’d heard. And if he was reclusive and unpopular, so much the better, given the… delicacy… of the situation. His opinion meant nothing to her. She’d be able to stay completely business-like. Impersonal. No need for embarrassment.
Yes, he would be her safest bet to address this disaster.
She only hoped she could afford him.
“Dear Mr. Nash,” she typed in an email message. “I am in urgent need of someone with your expertise to address a security breach in my business website. Please direct me as to how to proceed. Yours truly, Carrie Logan.”
Then she sat back and prayed for his response.
