Promises from a Playboy--A secret billionaire with amnesia romance

by Andrea Laurence

  Checking her watch as she entered the dark-stone-and-wood historic building, she noted that she was precisely on time for her meeting. Which would undoubtedly work in her favor. The retired rancher whom she was meeting was a septuagenarian with deep pockets and a reputation for philanthropy. She intended to dazzle him with her business plan for Donovan Horse Rescue, and solidify the final necessary funds to expand the rescue so she could develop an equine therapy component in the form of a summer camp for kids. Her charitable foundation had already been promised a portion of the funds raised by the ticket sales to Soiree on the Bay, an upcoming food, art and wine festival on Appaloosa Island.

  Today’s meeting could yield the rest.

  “Miss Donovan?” a man’s warm baritone greeted her.

  Valencia glanced up from her watch to meet the intent regard of a wildly handsome man. He had dark brown hair and dark eyes framed by heavy brows. A deeply tanned complexion that she guessed was more due to heritage than the sun. And his gray pants and black shirt were tailored in such a way that she couldn’t help but notice how broad-shouldered and fit he was. Valencia sighed appreciatively as she continued to drink him in. Well over six feet, this guy loomed over her, and she was not a petite woman. Even without the expensive-looking boots he wore, he would still be tall.

  Yikes! How long had she been standing there ogling him?

  Her manners returned along with a hint of dismay. Since when did a hot-looking man turn her head? Especially when she had just played her game-time hype playlist and needed all her focus?

  “Yes. I’m Valencia Donovan.” She gave him a polite smile while hoping her racing thoughts didn’t show on her face.

  Dressed as he was, he couldn’t possibly work at the Texas Cattleman’s Club, but she also couldn’t imagine who else would greet her by name.

  “Lorenzo Cortez-Williams.” He extended his hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh.” Confused, she clasped his palm automatically upon hearing the name. But hadn’t her meeting been with a much older man? The extremely compelling rancher whose hand enveloped hers couldn’t be more than thirty-five years old. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

  “You were expecting someone else?” He smiled warmly while gesturing her ahead of him. “Our table is this way.”

  Knocked off her game, Valencia took a deep breath as he relinquished her hand. She’d been too rattled to enjoy the touch even though her palm retained a hint of his warmth. Of course, she shouldn’t be enjoying skin-on-skin contact with a potential investor. Berating herself for the slipup, she shoved aside thoughts of her companion’s potent sex appeal and focused on business as she followed him through the dark wood-­paneled corridors into the high-ceilinged dining area. Hunting trophies and historical artifacts provided understated decor where some of the most influential residents of Royal, Texas, enjoyed a meal.

  “I read your bio to prepare for the meeting,” she admitted as he showed her to a quiet table in the back. “And the photo of Lorenzo Cortez-Williams showed a man closer to my grandfather’s age.”

  “My granddad, no doubt. That’s the problem with inheriting the family moniker. There are two other formidable Lorenzos still bearing the same name. I’m Lorenzo the third.” As he withdrew a high-backed leather chair for her at the round table, she couldn’t help but notice the ring finger on his left hand remained bare. “My father is Lorenzo Junior. Gramp is the original.”

  “Of course.” She lowered herself into the chair he indicated, even as she struggled to recall what else she’d read about the Cortez-Williams family on their charitable website. “Will either of them be joining us?”

  He slid her chair into place before taking the seat across from her. A waiter arrived to greet her at the same moment, bringing a carafe of water and pouring two glasses while taking their drink orders. When the server left, Lorenzo leveled that piercing brown-eyed gaze her way again. His full focus on her.

  “It will be just us today, Miss Donovan.”

  “Please call me Valencia.”

  “Only if you pay me the same courtesy.” He lifted his glass of water and clinked it softly to hers before taking a sip. “And I have taken over my grandfather’s former duties. Gramp has grown a soft heart for causes, and a few months ago we discovered he was on track to donate most of the family fortune.”

  She hid her renewed sense of dismay by taking her time spreading her napkin over her lap. Did the man seated across from her need to reel in the spending now? She wished she could go back in time and prepare for this meeting differently.

  “That must have been upsetting for your family,” she murmured, before lifting her eyes to his. “Was he aware that he was in danger of overextending? I hope his health is still sound.”

  Lorenzo was still regarding her steadily, his dark gaze unnerving her a bit. If they’d been in a dimly lit bar for drinks, she would have felt a feminine thrill at whatever chased through his brown eyes. But now, with the success of her dream on the line, it was distracting.

  “Gramp is in excellent health, thank you.” He shuffled aside his menu. “But we thought it best if I took over the vetting process for charitable donations. You’d be surprised how many con artists are out there.”

  Bristling at the implication, she forced a cool smile. “I assure you, my efforts to rescue horses are very real. I can provide you with references. People who can vouch for my character.”

  “I’m not questioning your integrity, Valencia. But as a representative of my family, I need to exercise caution since all of those things can be faked.” There was a somberness in his expression that told her he’d had firsthand experience with those kinds of people.

  The knowledge soothed her a bit, even as the last of her plans for this meeting crumpled under the need for a new approach.

  “I’m sorry to hear that there are folks who take advantage of your family’s generosity that way, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” She waited while their server returned with the iced tea she’d ordered. Then, listening to the waiter reel off the lunch specials, she chose the carne asada while Lorenzo asked for his “usual.” After he departed, Valencia returned to her subject with renewed determination. “So tell me, how can I convince you that Donovan Horse Rescue is legitimate? Rest assured that I am emphatic about transparency with my finances.”

  The spark of interest in his smoldering eyes told her that he appreciated the approach.

  “For starters, just meeting you in person is helpful. I like to size up who I’m dealing with face-to-face.” He took a pull from his longneck, his expression thoughtful.

  “I can’t argue with that. I rely on my instincts, too. What else can I tell you about the rescue?”

  “I look forward to hearing all about it over lunch,” he murmured, setting down the dark bottle. “But I won’t be relying solely on my instincts when making my final decision. If I like what I hear today, I’ll want to visit Donovan Horse Rescue in person. Tour your facility and see what I think.”

  “Fantastic.” She welcomed the chance to have him see the ranch for himself. She was proud of what she’d built, and knew every detail of her expansion plan by heart so she could explain it to him while looking at the footprint of the anticipated new additions. “I realize it’s short notice, but are you available after lunch today?”

  A shiver ran through her as she awaited his response. Because, as much as she anticipated selling him on her foundation, she also felt slightly wary of having this extremely compelling rancher walking around her personal space. She had the feeling Lorenzo Cortez-Williams would leave his mark somehow.

  Which meant she needed to tread warily with a man who held the future of her mission in his hands.

  “Unfortunately, I have another appointment this afternoon.” His words disappointed her more than they should have, making her aware that the undercurrent of sizzling attraction she felt hadn�
��t eased since they’d sat down. “Are you free tomorrow, perhaps?”

  The smoky quality of his voice made the proposition feel more personal.

  “For the prospect of showing you my operation, I would gladly clear my schedule. But as it happens, I’m free all day.”

  She couldn’t have held back her grin. Strictly because she knew the rescue was impressive and would make her case for her. Not because she was already looking forward to seeing him again.

  The rapid tattoo of her heartbeat, however, already called her a liar.

  Business and pleasure don’t mix.

  Lorenzo Cortez-Williams should have been the last man in Royal, Texas, who needed to repeat those words like a mantra. They’d been branded into his skin by his restaurateur fiancée, who’d targeted him for his wealth, ran up his credit cards and then disappeared from his life five years ago. After she’d signed his family’s beef company to a cut-rate deal for her restaurants, a deal that had seared more resentment into him with each passing year until it was done.

  So why did he need to pull into a local coffee shop to remind himself of the necessary separation between work and play, lest he show up at Donovan Horse Rescue too early for his appointment with Valencia Donovan? Probably because the woman attracted him like no one else ever had. Ex-fiancée included. Valencia had impressed him with more than her smarts even though her business acumen came across immediately during their meeting. There’d been a warmth of spirit about her obvious love for horses, a commitment to her mission that practically shone out of her eyes when she spoke. He’d been…captivated.

  Tightening his grip on the take-out cup from the drive-through, Lorenzo steered his truck back onto the county route that would lead to Valencia’s place, reminding himself that he wouldn’t be seeing her again after today. He’d already taken the liberty of ordering an investigation of her and her business, a practice that he’d leaned on after discovering how many scammers had shaken money out of the family’s charitable fund in the past. Not to mention the fiasco with Lindsey that had made him question his own judgment. His private investigator was discreet. Thorough. And Lorenzo now had a detailed report on Valencia that showed her in a favorable light. At only thirty years old, she’d already blazed quite an illustrious path for herself. She’d aced high school and college, accumulating awards and honors for her community involvement even as a teen, before going onto tremendous success in the corporate world during her eight-year stint with an agricultural company based in Dallas.

  Valencia’s early childhood was a gray area since she’d been adopted when she was young and there was little information available about her formative years. Yet considering all she’d accomplished since then, Lorenzo was prepared to move forward with her request if he liked what he saw at the rescue today.

  Assuming he could look at anything but her. How many times had he thought about her intelligent brown eyes taking his measure when she first saw him? There’d been a moment before she realized that she’d be meeting with him, when her response to him had been purely feminine. She’d hidden it fast and thoroughly once she’d recognized her error, but he couldn’t get that look out of his head. Last night, he’d spent far too long letting their innocuous encounter spin out into other, more provocative scenarios in his mind.

  Now he turned into the gravel drive that led to her place, his oversize pickup truck dipping into an uneven patch despite the high-grade suspension. Settling his drink into the cupholder so he could keep both hands on the wheel, he noted the creek’s proximity and an equipment barn that looked like it had been recently upgraded. An unassuming one-story stone house sat on a low hill overlooking the creek, but the simple landscaping and unfinished garage told him that Valencia had put her finances into the horses instead of the home.

  Something he could appreciate, having been raised on a ranch himself. He parked off to one side of the driveway between the house and the barn, then took a last bracing sip of his coffee before exiting the truck.

  The scent of pink briar hung in the air, the driveway partially lined with the airy flowers that closed up when you brushed against them. Lorenzo skirted a thick patch of them to head toward the house. Before he’d gone three steps, a sorrel Belgian came into view as it jumped a low hedge behind the house, carrying Valencia Donovan on its broad back at a lengthened trot.

  Dressed in faded jeans and boots, she was even lovelier today. Well-worn denim hugged her thighs while a flowy pink blouse rippled in the breeze around her shoulders. A buff-colored hat kept the sun from her delicate features, long blond waves trailing down her back. She rode with ease that went beyond good horsemanship that was common enough around this part of Texas. The animal’s gait was one of the toughest to sit gracefully, especially on such a huge draft horse that would have a powerful trot. Yet her hips moved with practiced grace, the rest of her body still, a feat that spoke of long hours of training and muscles attuned to the work.

  Damned if that display didn’t jolt him right back into wayward imaginings about the woman he’d thought of far too often since their meeting the day before.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him on a breathless laugh as she swung down from the mare, her cheeks flushed with color. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. Sapphire has taken a few days to settle in here, and she was in such good spirits on our morning run that I found it hard to turn her around.”

  Another woman—a ranch hand, he guessed—approached to take the mare’s reins from her. But Valencia took an extra moment to tip her head to the Belgian’s neck and croon softly at her before handing them over. Her compassion was obvious. After Lorenzo had been taken in by a false-faced woman in the past, he liked to think he had a better radar for deceit now. Valencia’s love of the horses definitely wasn’t fake.

  “Sapphire is one of your rescues?” he asked, forcing himself to think like an investor in her foundation and not a man wildly enamored by a woman.

  He really needed to start dating more. He didn’t normally get sidetracked this way.

  “Yes.” Valencia’s gaze followed the Belgian for a long moment before turning her pretty brown eyes to him. “Her owner died a few weeks ago and the man’s nephew contacted me about taking her in. Some animals have ended up here because of neglect or unsuitable living conditions, but Sapphire has been well cared for.” She gestured toward a stable he’d noticed when he drove in. “Would you like to see the facilities we have so far?”

  “Very much.” The more they kept the focus on the rescue, the less attention he’d pay to the woman herself. “It looks like you’ve recently upgraded the outbuildings.”

  “I have.” She headed in the direction of the stable. “I saved every cent from my job in the corporate world to put toward start-up costs for the rescue. My plan began with the right facilities that could expand as we grow.”

  “I read your three-phase business model.” He’d been more than a little impressed with the level of detail. She’d anticipated every potential expense. “You should be able to afford the adjoining parcel of land next.”

  She needed more space before she could move into the next phase—an immersive equine therapy camp for troubled kids. The end goal had made him all the more curious about the unknown portion of her background—her birth parents and early home life. What struggles had she faced before her adoptive parents came into the picture?

  “Yes. If the ticket sales to Soiree on the Bay are as robust as we all hope they will be, I’ll be able to buy the land at the end of the month.” As they passed the stone house, she excused herself long enough to dash up the front steps and open the front door so a black-and-tan dog—a border collie mix was his guess—could bolt down the stairs and run ahead of them. “That’s Barkis, by the way.”

  “Barkis?” he laughed. “A funny name for a dog when he didn’t even make a sound at seeing me.”

  “Barkis was a package deal along with the first hors
e I rescued.” Her smile faltered a little as she spoke. “I learned about the animals from an eleven-year-old girl living next door to them. She’d drawn a crayon sketch of the horse and the dog and walked into a gas station to post it on their community notice board while I was buying a bag of chips for a road trip.”

  He heard the echo of some painful memories in the story, and felt a new wave of admiration for this beautiful, caring woman who not only abhorred suffering, but who felt called to help in a deeply personal way.

  “You intercepted her sign?” he guessed.

  “I was still working at my job full-time, even though I’d already started the business plan. I was on the road that day to see one of our more remote equipment dealers. But when I spoke to the little girl about the animals who needed help—

  neglected, hungry animals she petted and consoled through a rusted barbed wire fence every day—I recognized that moment was going to be my beginning.” Her voice had gone fierce during the story, but she paused now to draw a breath as they reached the stable. “She didn’t know the animals’ names, but privately called the dog Barkis and the horse Tuxedo. I still give her updates about them.”

  Valencia nodded toward the stable door as she preceded him inside. It took him a moment to regain his composure after the story, though, envisioning her dressed in her business suit and heels in some ramshackle gas station, taking the time to listen to a passionate kid with a crayon drawing.

  She’d somehow ditched her job and saved the animals, no doubt earning hero status in the kid’s eyes. He followed her into the stable, his gaze drawn to the sway of her hips before he remembered himself.

  If Valencia Donovan was putting on an act to entice funds out of the Cortez-Williams family, it was a damned good show. But with every moment he spent in her presence, even the most cynical part of himself found it tougher to believe. Which meant he’d have to try twice as hard to stick to his guns and avoid the potent temptation that dogged him every moment he spent with Valencia.