One Stubborn Texan

by Kara Lennox

  Russ was right about one thing. She didn’t really dislike dogs, she was afraid of them. But this puppy with the huge feet and liquid brown eyes plucked at her heartstrings. In Linhart, she hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Russ’s devotion to the old dog had been part of his appeal.

  A sign in the window announced that the price on the dog had been reduced, probably because it was getting too big and eating the pet shop out of any hope for a profit.

  On impulse, Sydney walked into the store and buttonholed an employee. “I want to look at that bloodhound in the window, please.”

  The young man smiled. “She’s a charmer, isn’t she?” He went to the window to retrieve the pooch while Sydney just stood there, wondering if she was losing her mind.

  “Her name’s Blossom. Of course, you can change it.” The moment the employee set the dog on the floor, it galumphed over to Sydney and began sniffing her shoe, just as Nero had.

  Sydney sat down on the floor and the puppy was all over her, sniffing and licking, grabbing the hem of her sweatshirt and tugging, grabbing her shoelaces in her sharp little teeth.

  “She’s fifteen weeks and getting too big for the shop. If we don’t sell her soon…” He let his voice trail off meaningfully. “She’s a full-blooded bloodhound but she doesn’t have any papers, so the owner’s willing to let her go cheap.”

  Sydney reached into her purse and withdrew her credit card. “Ring her up. And throw in a bag of food.”

  “Um, you’ll need some other stuff, too,” the eager employee said, probably spotting a sucker when he saw one. “Do you have a carrier? Collar and leash? You’ll want to get a tag, too, in case she gets lost.”

  Sydney had the dog in her arms and was pressing her face into the soft brown fur. The puppy even smelled a little bit like Nero. She never thought she would like the smell of dog.

  “Just the food for now—and a collar and leash,” she amended, because Blossom would have to be walked. “Gather up all the other stuff I’ll need and I’ll be back tomorrow to get it, okay?”

  “Sure,” the young man said. “You won’t be sorry. Blossom’s an awesome dog.”

  Minutes later, Sydney was the proud owner of an unregistered bloodhound that would have to be walked several times a day. She lived in a building that didn’t allow pets. This was going to be interesting.

  The security guard at her father’s building looked askance as she entered with the dog in her arms, but she’d given him a nice Christmas gift, so he was inclined to look the other way. She took the elevator to the fourth floor and braced for what was likely to be a very unpleasant conversation.

  The offices of Baines & Baines were small and humble, only a couple of rooms. Theirs wasn’t the kind of business that got a lot of foot traffic, so there was no need for anything fancy.

  Lowell sat at one of the two desks in the front office he used to share with Shirley. It appeared he’d tidied up the place while Sydney was gone, which was a small miracle. He hadn’t so much as opened a file drawer in months.

  He turned to her with a big dirt-eating grin. “There’s my star—Holy cow, what have you got there?”

  “Um, a dog?”

  “I thought you were afraid of dogs.”

  “I’m not a dog person,” she corrected him. “This is a puppy, though.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll grow into a dog. Where’d it come from?”

  “I just bought her. It’s all part of my new campaign.”

  “You mean, like advertising?” Lowell asked, obviously confused. “Hey, having a bloodhound as our logo could work. Maybe we could do a TV commercial! We’ll have the money to do more promotion now.”

  “Um, yeah. Dad, we need to talk.” She set Blossom on the floor and opened the bag of food. She hadn’t purchased any food bowls, so she put some kibble in an empty coffee cup and set it on the floor. The puppy promptly tipped the mug over, spilling food everywhere, and started snuffling it up.

  “You don’t look like a woman who just earned herself a million dollars.”

  “Like I said on the phone, you don’t quite have all the facts.” She walked over to the other desk, swiveled the chair around and sat, weary to the bone. “I did find the Oberlin heir. It was a complete accident and I wasn’t sure I was right, so I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

  “But you found him, right? This Russell Klein?”

  Sydney sighed. “Yeah. He’s the one. But I don’t have a signed contract. He did sign a contract, but then I got mad at him and tore it up.”

  Lowell’s jaw dropped. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No. You did not raise a brilliant daughter. You raised an idiot.”

  “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me…this is the guy? The guy you told me about last night on the phone?”

  “’Fraid so. But he accused me of lying and betraying him when I’d gone out of my way to be understanding about his situation.”

  “What exactly is his situation?” Lowell wanted to know.

  So she told him about Russ’s childhood and Winnie and how he’d built a really happy life down in Texas and didn’t want to wreck it. “But then he realized it was dumb not to accept the money and he did it. He did it for me, because he knew how badly we needed this commission.”

  “Honey, you did him a favor. Not the other way around.”

  She’d figured Lowell wouldn’t understand. Sydney herself had struggled to comprehend why Russ had refused the money. It was only when she spent time in Linhart and experienced the charms of small-town life herself—and met Winnie—that she’d started to understand.

  “At any rate, he asked me not to tell anyone I’d found the Oberlin heir until he’d talked to his mother and explained he was putting the money into a trust. And, of course, I agreed; no harm in that. But somehow the media found out.”

  “And he thought you were responsible?” Lowell asked, managing to muster up some righteous indignation of his own. “He called you a liar?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “I got news for that deluded young man. He might be trying to protect his mama, but she’s the one who alerted the media.”

  That caught Sydney up short. “Winnie Klein? Are you sure?”

  “I saw her on CNN. Nice-lookin’ gal with big blond hair and a bust measurement about the same as her IQ?”

  “Dad, that’s not very nice.” Sydney felt compelled to defend Winnie. “She must not be too dumb, because she sure put two and two together.” And Sydney wished she could be there when Russ found out.

  “So you’re telling me there’s no million-dollar commission?” Lowell said, finally grasping the most significant point of this conversation.

  She nodded miserably. “I let my pride get in the way of common sense. Sorry, Dad.”

  He reached over and squeezed her knee. “That’s okay, darlin’. I’m still proud of you. I wish you’d come work with me full-time. As a partner, a full partner.”

  “Really? You mean it?”

  “You’re every inch your mother. You know, sometimes she refused a commission when she thought the client needed it more than us. Nothing wrong with letting your emotions rule once in a while.”

  Sydney expelled a long breath of air. “We’re going to have to declare bankruptcy.”

  Lowell winced. “Guess I saw that coming.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Russ somehow managed to get through the day. He got the hunting party outfitted in all the latest gear, garnering a nice profit. Of course, he wouldn’t have to worry about how profitable the store was if he accepted the ten million bucks.

  Around noon the reporters gave up on him. They’d shot a few photos of him, but when he refused to be interviewed, they’d wandered off to greener stories.

  For the remainder of the afternoon, the store was besieged by a string of customers who’d come in pretending to shop so they could gawk at him—or to offer sincere congratulations, because of course most normal people would see a windfa
ll like this as good fortune. In fact, Russ was probably the only person in the world who saw it as a curse.

  Sydney had brought a curse down on him, that was all there was to it. But whatever anger he’d felt toward her had dissipated during the day. He kept thinking about how she’d torn up the contract. If her only motive was money, she would never have done that. He couldn’t escape the niggling doubt that he’d somehow gotten it all wrong.

  But Sydney had to be the one who’d alerted the media. Or at the very least, she’d told someone who then contacted the press. Which meant she’d lied. She’d manipulated him in the name of blatant self-interest; therefore she wasn’t the sort of person he wanted to be involved with romantically or do business with.

  Bert had been fielding calls all day on his cell phone. He and his network of gossipers had kept the airwaves humming, though Bert was doing his best to quell the worst of the rumors.

  Late in the afternoon, he hung up from a call looking troubled. “That was Eleanor Ivans. She said Winnie’s been up and down Main Street shopping, and she just bought a diamond necklace.”

  “What?” Russ cursed softly. He’d wanted to wait until some of Winnie’s giddy excitement had worn off before sitting her down and forcing her to believe him when he said he wasn’t taking the money. But he couldn’t wait if she was running up her credit cards.

  He shoved his sleeves into his jacket. “I’ll be back.”

  “Dang, I’d like to be a fly on the wall for this conversation,” Bert said unhelpfully.

  Russ found Winnie still in Stover’s Fine Jewelry. She smiled a greeting, but her smile faded when Russ scowled at her. She was wearing the necklace, which was so heavy with diamonds he was surprised she could stand up straight.

  “Mom, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Just a little shopping. I haven’t had any sparklies since I sold the ones Sammy gave me and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I do mind. Return the necklace. Now. Then you and I are going to have a little chat.”

  “I don’t see what you’re getting all bent out of shape for. I was gonna put it on layaway ’cause I know how you hate it when I run up my credit cards. But you’ll buy it for me, won’t you? It would just be a drop in the bucket.”

  He hated it when Winnie used that little-girl voice with him. He thought she’d outgrown it. “Just give the necklace back to the nice man. Then we’ll go back to the Cut ’n’ Curl and go into your office and I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”

  Winnie looked perturbed, but she unfastened the necklace and handed it back to the patient Mr. Stover. “Don’t sell it to anyone else, Arthur, please?”

  “I’ll put your name on it.”

  She winked at the elderly jeweler, then followed Russ outside and down the street to the beauty shop, holding her head high and walking like a queen.

  Betty and Glory, who both had customers, stopped what they were doing to applaud Russ when he entered.

  “Afternoon, ladies,” he said, hating the attention. He wasn’t crazy; this was proving he’d been right all along. Being rich would be nothing but a pain in the butt. He escorted Winnie into the small office in the back where she kept her books, did the payroll, placed hair-product orders and paid bills. She’d proved herself surprisingly competent at running her business. But for some reason, that expertise did not extend to her personal finances.

  Travel magazines and brochures for cruises and safaris were spread out all over her desk. “You haven’t ordered anything else, have you? You haven’t booked any luxury vacations or bought a Mercedes or anything like that?”

  “No, but if we’re going to be rich, I don’t see what the problem is. Do you have any idea how much money ten million dollars is? We couldn’t spend it in a lifetime if we tried.”

  Winnie could. That woman could spend it in a year. But it was a moot point, because there wouldn’t be any money to spend.

  “I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. Okay?”

  She nodded, looking a little scared.

  “Sammy did, indeed, leave me a pile of money. But I’m not going to accept it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He held up his finger. “I’m talking, remember?”

  “But I’m not hearing right.”

  “Mom, have you been happy? Since we moved to Linhart, I mean. Just nod.”

  She nodded.

  “And you love the Cut ’n’ Curl. You said when you were a little girl you always wanted your own beauty parlor. And when you bought it, you said it was a dream come true.”

  She nodded again.

  “We have good friends here, right? People who love us for who we are, not for what we can buy them.”

  Another nod.

  “Now, do you remember what life was like in Vegas? Parties, booze, drugs, people mooching off you. Sleeping till noon, waking with a hangover. Begging for money from Sammy, then spending it like water with nothing to show for it.”

  She stared at the wall behind Russ, remembering.

  “I’m not saying money is bad,” he continued. “But you and I weren’t meant to be rich. I love my life. And you love yours. Having a bunch of money would just mess things up.”

  Winnie grabbed a tissue from a box on the desk and dabbed at her eyes.

  “You can talk now.”

  “You’re really going to refuse it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, crap. If I’d known that, I never would have called CNN and the Enquirer.”

  Russ suddenly felt like he couldn’t get enough air. The room tilted and he grabbed on to the arms of his chair. “You called the media?”

  “When you inherit millions from a notorious Las Vegas mobster, it’s not the kind of thing you want to keep a secret. I always wanted to be in the Enquirer, you know that. Not for something gross, like a hundred-pound tumor, but for something cool.”

  “So Sydney told you about Sammy’s will,” he concluded.

  “Oh, no, she never breathed a word about it. In fact, she never even mentioned what kind of work she did. But Bert knew some of it and that was enough to get me started. I looked her up on the Internet. Said she was an heir-finder. Then Betty’s son, the lawyer, explained what an heir-finder was. I was dying to know what business she had with you, so Betty and I did some more Googling. Did you know there’s a whole Web site devoted to finding you?”

  Russ’s gut clenched so tight, he thought he might lose his lunch. What had he done? How could he have been so stupid?

  “Russ, sweetie, you don’t look so good. Your face has gone white and you’re all pinched around the mouth. Want me to get you a Diet Coke? It’s all I have in the fridge.”

  “No, thanks.” When he was pretty sure he could stand without passing out, he did. “I’m sorry for all the confusion.”

  “I guess I should have waited to talk to you before I started counting my chickens, huh?”

  “In retrospect, that might have been the wiser choice, but it’s okay.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

  “No. I think you’re a chucklehead for walking away from that kind of money, but I’m not mad. Just disappointed. I really wanted that necklace.”

  “They’re just rocks, Mom.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how we could be related.”

  Back on Main Street, Russ inhaled deeply. He had to call Sydney and apologize. No, an apology wasn’t going to do it. He was going to have to grovel. When he remembered the things he’d said to her that morning, he cringed.

  His mother was right; he was a chucklehead.

  He didn’t even wait until he got back to the store. He used his cell to dial hers. But he only got her voice mail.

  “Sydney, it’s Russ. I’m sorry. I’m just so, so sorry and I was completely wrong and deluded and a total ass…” He couldn’t think of any other good groveling sentiments off the top of his head, so he ended with, “Plea
se call me.”

  He doubted she would. Sydney was the best thing ever to happen to him, way better than ten million dollars, and he’d foolishly driven her away. If he’d been Sydney, he would have told himself to go to hell.

  SYDNEY WAS FINALLY ABLE to see the top of her desk in her home office. She’d spent most of the day dealing with her own clients, putting out fires and responding to potential new customers who’d contacted her during her absence. Most of them had gone elsewhere for their security needs, but she’d made a couple of appointments.

  She’d also spent a lot of time taking Blossom for walks, carefully dodging her apartment manager. But she was going to have to move if she wanted to keep the dog. And dammit, she was keeping the stupid dog, which had cried all night until Sydney had brought her into bed with her. Now they had bonded.

  She had to keep her eye on the puppy every minute. She’d already destroyed one house slipper, one table leg and the corner of her bedspread.

  But as infuriating as the puppy was, she was so darn cute and lovable, Sydney couldn’t even consider finding her another home. The dog was hers, for better or worse. And if every time Sydney looked at the dog she was reminded of Nero and then Russ, that was just too bad. Maybe she wouldn’t open herself up so easily to the next broad-shouldered good ol’ boy who pretended to have all kinds of values and morals and ethics, but who could so easily assume she was a slime bucket.

  She didn’t fault him for suspecting her. But he could have investigated before throwing accusations at her. She still fumed every time she thought of how easily he’d dismissed the bond they’d forged. And accusing her of making up the story about her poor grieving father’s nearly bankrupt business—how could he believe anyone would do that, much less the woman he’d just spent all night making love to?

  Her cell phone rang, and she checked the caller ID: Russ again. He’d been leaving voice mail messages every couple of hours all day long and the previous evening, too.

  Sydney couldn’t talk to him yet. Her feelings were too raw, too exposed. But she kept listening to the voice mails just to hear the sound of his voice and remember what it was like to be in love, if only briefly.