Lone Star Seduction

by Day Leclaire

  Alex continued as though he’d never been interrupted. “And second, you’re right. I intend to have my pound of flesh. Every last ounce of it. I appreciate your making it so easy for me.”

  Sebastian rose to his feet, trembling with the effort. “Fine. I stole. Does that make you happy? I stole money from TCC and gave it to Rodriquez. He swore this last deal would finish the matter between us.” He laughed without humor. “He was right. It has. I have no more money to give him—hell, I still owe him a bloody fortune—and I don’t doubt that I’ll soon hear that our investment met with tragic results.”

  “Count on it.” Alex folded his arms across his chest. “So, if you’re on the verge of bankruptcy, how do you plan to pay back the money?” He glanced around. “I suppose you could always sell your home, and the land that’s been in your family for countless generations. Move to more modest accommodations.”

  A hideous silence settled over them, one that Rebecca finally broke. “I’ll sell Sweet Nothings,” she said quietly. “I own the building, as well as the business. There should be more than enough to cover what my father owes the club, and possibly El Gato, too.”

  “No,” Sebastian and Alex said in unison.

  If circumstances had been different, she’d have smiled at their unusual accord. But right now, she didn’t find anything about the situation even remotely amusing. “Neither of you has any say in this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Alex corrected her. “This is your father’s debt and he’ll pay it, not you.”

  “You can’t stop me, Alex,” she argued. “If I choose to liquidate Sweet Nothings, that’s my business.”

  “And when word gets out about the reason for liquidating your shop?” Alex shot back. “Somerset’s a small town. Do you really think your father will be able to hold his head up when everyone learns that he’s a thief? That he allowed his daughter to bail him out? It won’t be long before he sells, if only because he can no longer handle the whispers and looks of disgust. The sheer humiliation of it all. Who will welcome the Huntingtons into their homes?” He allowed that to sink in. “No one. You will be outcasts.”

  “You have a better suggestion?” Rebecca demanded.

  “He sells his homestead to me. The money is replaced quietly, with no scandal. I’ll handle Rodriquez. And then your father leaves Maverick County. I’ll see to it that he has sufficient funds to keep him in comfort for the rest of his days—assuming he’s careful and doesn’t make any more risky business ventures. But Huntington Manor will become Montoya property from this point forward.”

  Three

  “G et out!” Sebastian snarled. “Get out of my home, you vulture. I’ll find my own solution to this mess. This land will never bear your name. Never, do you hear me?”

  Alex just smiled. “You have three days to return the money to TCC or the board will be contacting the authorities. They’ve also relieved you as treasurer and appointed Mitch Brody in your place. Consider your membership officially suspended.” He picked up his suit jacket from the back of the chair where he’d left it and shrugged it on. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Rebecca spared a brief, anguished glance at her father, and followed Alex. She caught up with him in the foyer. “Wait.”

  He paused by the front door and turned to confront her. “You’d be wise to stay out of this, Rebecca.”

  So formal. So cold. Even so, she couldn’t let him go. Not without doing everything within her power to stop events from moving any further along this path of destruction. It didn’t matter if she had to swallow every last ounce of pride. If it meant a quiet and reasonable solution to her father’s dilemma, she’d do it. “Please, Alex. There must be another way of resolving this.”

  He turned on her. “I’ve never met a woman who possesses even a tenth of the loyalty you display toward your father,” he marveled. “It doesn’t matter what he does to you, to the people dependent on him for a living, to casual bystanders who get in his way. You still defend him.”

  She shook her head in instant denial. “I’m not defending him. If he stole the money—”

  Alex lifted an eyebrow. “If?” he repeated softly.

  She hovered between crazed laughter and tears. “I know he stole the money.” The wound was so new and raw, she couldn’t even fully feel the hurt. But she didn’t doubt for a minute that would change. And soon. “I guess I haven’t digested it yet.”

  “I suggest you start. As of tomorrow, your life will take a dramatic change.”

  “My life?” She stared at him, not understanding. “It’s my father—”

  He simply shook his head. “You’ve lived in Somerset all your life and still you don’t know how things work?” he said with disbelief. “How many of your so-called friends will stand beside you when it’s discovered that your father is a thief?”

  It took her an instant to comprehend his words. “But they’re my friends,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t they—”

  He gave a short, hard laugh. “Grow up, Becca. Your father is already teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. He earns—earned—his living investing other people’s money. Who do you think will invest their money with him after this? Do you think they won’t wonder whether he somehow scammed them during one of their past associations? That they won’t make accusations, if only to one another?”

  A denial leaped to her lips, one she didn’t dare utter. Until today she’d have sworn her father was as honest as the day was long, that his pride in his name and reputation and family honor meant everything to him. But she didn’t know the man sitting in their library, a man who had confessed to a crime that her father had always taught her ranked just shy of murder.

  “I see you’re starting to understand,” Alex said. “It’s time to face facts, Rebecca. Your life as you knew it is over. Who will want anything to do with you or your father? Maybe his dishonesty is a genetic trait. Maybe you were in on it. And how delighted some will be that the mighty Huntingtons have finally gotten their—” He tilted his head to one side in consideration. “What is that antiquated phrase? Ah, yes. Comeuppance.”

  “Is that how you see us, Alex?” She dared to close the distance between them. “Is that how you see me? As the daughter of a thief?”

  “It’s what you are.” He spoke the words—brutal, unkind words. They’d have wounded her beyond bearing if she hadn’t seen the truth on his face. He didn’t believe those words. Not even a little. Regret already glittered in the inky depths of his eyes. “Becca—”

  “Tell me what we can do. Tell me what you want.”

  The regret vanished as if it had never been. “And you’ll give it to me?”

  “Yes. Ask and it’s yours.”

  “Just to make all this go away?”

  Her chin shot up. “Not go away. My father owes the money. If it takes us the rest of our lives, it’ll be repaid. If it can be done quietly, fine. If it can’t, it will still be repaid.” She stepped even closer. “But he’s not responsible for those arson fires. I’ll never believe it.”

  “Yesterday, you’d never have believed your father was a thief.”

  “Help me, Alex” She couldn’t believe she was asking, but what choice did she have? Once Alex set himself a course, he wouldn’t be dissuaded. If she could focus that determination on his finding the true culprit for the arson fires, it would prove her father’s innocence. “I’m only asking you to help me find the truth. Help me find out who’s really responsible for setting the fires at the refinery and at your ranch.”

  “And in exchange, you’ll give me whatever I want?”

  “Yes.”

  He hooked a finger in the neckline of her cotton blouse and tugged her closer. “What if it’s you I want, dulzura? How far will you go, and how much will you give me, if I make you the price for my help?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “All I want is the same thing you do. The truth. And I’ll go as far as you want and give whatever you ask in order to get that truth.”

&nb
sp; “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  He cupped the back of her neck and took her mouth in a kiss that threatened to destroy what little sanity she retained. His mouth didn’t just take hers, it possessed it, consumed it, set her on fire and then drove those flames into an inferno. And then he released her and stepped back. A late fall chill swept in, replacing the warmth from his embrace.

  “You tempt me, dulzura.” He fixed her with an unreadable gaze. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not a man so easily bought.”

  And with that, he left her standing in the foyer, utterly devastated.

  Rebecca gave herself a day. One single day to get her head straight, her heart protected, and her determination to a point where it outweighed her desperation, before confronting Alex again.

  She wished it could be on her territory, or at the very least at a neutral site, but he made that impossible. He didn’t show up at the Cattleman’s Club, nor at work where she might catch him on the fly. Instead, she was forced to drive out to his ranch, El Diablo.

  At the entryway to his gravel drive, she pulled her convertible to the shoulder of the road and climbed out of the car to gaze at his spread. It was an impressive place, rolling across a full hundred acres of windswept pastureland. The ranch house occupied the southeast corner of his property and from her viewpoint she could see several fenced paddocks and a large barn, which was currently under construction. The general noise of that construction drifted toward her, the sound of saws and hammers and the occasional shout borne to her on the chilly fall breeze.

  The mansion—for it could hardly be called a house—stood crisp and white against a cerulean sky, the central portion a stately two stories, complete with porticos and balconies, while the sides sprawled outward in wide-flung wings like a warm Texan embrace. The sight filled her with dismay.

  Seeing El Diablo in all its glory proved once and for all that this wasn’t her Alex anymore. She’d known that. Known it for a very long time. But until this minute, she hadn’t fully allowed herself to see him as the man he’d become, versus the younger, slightly less powerful version he’d been when they’d first fallen in love. Alejandro Montoya wasn’t a poor teen from the barrio anymore. He was a male at his full strength and capability, a force to be reckoned with. He was also a rich, successful, influential man intent on destroying her father.

  Rebecca’s mouth firmed and she set her chin at a defiant angle. Forewarned was forearmed. Somehow, someway, she would get through to him and resolve this situation, to their mutual advantage.

  Returning to the car, she drove down the sweeping drive and parked a short distance from the barn, where she suspected she’d find him. Sure enough, he stood near the main entrance, blueprints spread across a table made from plywood and supported by a pair of sawhorses. A hammer, a crowbar and a can of nails kept the sheets of paper from rolling up.

  “We need the rough on the plumbing completed today, as well as the electrical,” Alex was saying. “Make sure he puts bibs here, here and here. The building inspector comes tomorrow and I won’t be pleased if there are any delays. Winter’s not that far off and I want this place finished before Christmas.”

  “Yessir, Mr. Montoya. That won’t be a problem.”

  “Thanks, Hank.” He looked up then, his gaze sharp and direct beneath the brim of his Stetson. He didn’t appear surprised to see her. No doubt he’d been expecting this visit. “I’m honored.”

  Okay, color her surprised. “And why is that?”

  “For the first time since I’ve taken ownership of El Diablo, a Huntington has come to call.”

  “And yet, no brass band or groveling peasants,” she dared to tease.

  His mouth twitched before he regained control with characteristic ruthlessness. “I won’t bother to ask why you’re here. I’ll just tell you that you’re wasting both your time and mine. You may have endless hours to fritter away. I don’t.”

  “But you’ll listen to my pitch, anyway.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her confident retort, then jerked his head at Hank. The construction foreman took the hint and made himself scarce.

  “Pitch away,” Alex instructed. She’d never seen him look harder or more remote. A wall of granite would offer a softer embrace than this man. “Not that it’ll do you any good. I have your father right where I want him and nothing you do or say is going to make a bit of difference. So you go right ahead, Ms. Huntington. Lob your best pitch.”

  She struggled to conceal her dismay. “Here?”

  “I’m a busy man. And this has already taken more time than I can spare.” He tugged off his leather work gloves and slapped them onto the makeshift table. Planting his palms on the rough wood, he leaned in her direction, the sheer, unadulterated essence of the man threatening to swamp her senses. “So it’s here and now, or not at all.”

  “Okay, fine.” She took a deep breath. “I’m asking you…begging you…to help me find out who started those fires. To find out who’s really behind them. I know you think it’s my father, but I’m telling you, it’s not. He’s guilty of—” She forced herself to say the words, no matter how acrid they tasted. “He’s guilty of theft. But not arson.”

  Alex simply shook his head. “It’s not my job to find who started the blazes.”

  She marshaled her arguments. “When you put your mind to something, you do it. You make things happen. Please, make this happen.”

  He was shaking his head again before she’d even finished. “There is nothing you can say, nothing you can offer, no inducement tempting enough for me to assist you or your father in this matter. Stay out of it before he takes you down, too.”

  She could see the strength of his decision in his set expression and the burning coldness of his gaze. Time to try a different tack. “We also need to talk about the repayment of the money owed to the TCC.”

  Even on this point he remained unrelenting. “That’s between your father and the club.”

  Alex may have temporarily won their first round, but he wouldn’t win this one. When it came to stubborn, she was his equal. “If we could just have a little time,” she began. “I could make payments—”

  “Forget it, Becca,” he interrupted curtly. “Do you think the Texas Cattleman’s Club is going to wait years for you and your father to pay back the money he stole? They’re barely willing to wait days. If it had been left up to Brody, your father would be cooling his heels in a jail cell as we speak.”

  He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d slapped her. “Brody? Lance Brody? Kate’s Lance?”

  He didn’t spare her. “That’s right. Once he was in possession of all the details, your best friend’s husband demanded that the board have your father arrested. But the board decided to give him the chance to repay the money. My offer to purchase Huntington Manor was his one shot at doing just that.”

  That stung. “I’d be far more appreciative if I didn’t know that your motivation for doing so was to get your hands on our home,” she shot back.

  “Get my hands—” He broke off with a word that had color warming her cheeks. “Why the hell would I want Huntington Manor when I have El Diablo? Your home is a financial sinkhole. Who could afford to buy it, let alone maintain it?”

  That shook her and she scrambled for understanding. “You want revenge. You want to drive my father out of Maverick County.”

  He didn’t deny it. “I would prefer to do both of those things without having such an albatross hanging around my neck. Look around you, Becca. El Diablo is a working ranch. My import/export business doesn’t carry this place. Far from it. I work hard to keep the ranch solidly in the black. Your father, on the other hand, plays at being a rancher. But I guarantee it doesn’t turn a profit and hasn’t for a long time.”

  “I don’t understand. Then why…?”

  “Why would I offer to buy Huntington Manor so your father can pay off the debt? Simple. I want him gone. He doesn’t realize it, yet, but he’s out of options. Either he sells to me or he sells
to Rodriquez. But he will have to sell out. And soon.”

  “Rodriquez.” Something her father had said the previous night gnawed at the back of her mind. “Dad says he owes him money, too.”

  Alex nodded. “I’m sure it’s more than either you or your father can get your hands on.”

  “But if you loaned us the money using Sweet Nothings as collateral, that would be enough, wouldn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “This isn’t my problem, Rebecca. Don’t put me in the middle of it.”

  “You came to us as the Cattleman’s representative, remember?” she retorted. “You put yourself in the middle.”

  “It’s out of my hands. Mitch Brody has taken over as club accountant. Talk to him.”

  “I already did. He needs the cash and we don’t have it. But I do have this.” She opened her purse and removed the deed to Sweet Nothings and centered it on the plywood between his widespread hands. “As I told you last night, I own both the building, as well as the business. Combined, they’re worth well in excess of what Dad owes the TCC.”

  He made no move to pick up the deed. “We’ve already discussed this.”

  “We’re discussing it again,” she stated evenly. “I can’t approach Rhymes for a bank loan using the property as collateral, since he’s involved in whatever my father pulled. So, I’m asking you. Will you draw up a loan agreement using Sweet Nothings as collateral?”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “No. Ask the Brodys. They’re your friends, not me.”

  “That’s precisely why I can’t ask them,” she argued. “They’re friends. It would put them in an awkward position and I refuse to do that to them. But if you loan me the money, everyone will know it’s on the up and up because you despise my father.”

  A humorless laugh stirred the air between them. “I have never understood your brand of logic, and I doubt I ever will.” He rocked backward and thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ll bite. How will the good people of Maverick county know it’s on the up and up? I seem to recall we have a romantic history between us.”