Lone Star Millionaire

by Susan Mallery

  It was a facade. A pleasant, pretty facade that hid the truth from everyone—even herself. But reality had just hit her upside the head and there was no escaping the truth.

  She didn’t have a life. She hadn’t had one for years. At least not one of her own. There were no friends she could call in Houston. Oh, she had some acquaintances from work, women she went to lunch with occasionally. She was still close to her sisters, but college kept them busy and they had their studies and their friends. Phone calls every two weeks weren’t a substitute for actual emotional intimacy.

  Everything she had, everything she thought and everything she was had been linked with Cal. She had become her job with nothing left over for herself.

  She returned to the sofa and sank down. When had it happened? She shook her head, already knowing the answer to that one. During her first interview, Cal had warned her that he demanded long hours and plenty of travel. She’d been thrilled with both the opportunity and the starting salary.

  Cal had been an answer to her prayers. Between salary, raises, bonuses and stock options it had taken less than four years to fund everyone’s college plans. Two of her siblings had opted for the more inexpensive state colleges, while the youngest had been offered a partial scholarship to Stanford. Once they were taken care of, Sabrina bought Gram a condo by the ocean, one close to her friends and the social activities she adored. Now everyone had been taken care of, even Sabrina herself. She’d been investing her money. She’d learned a lot working for Cal and now had a nice nest egg. And no plans for a future, she thought.

  The truth was she would never have a life as long as she worked for Cal. He was like the sun. If you stared at it, the light was so bright, you couldn’t see anything else. As long as she was around him, she wouldn’t be able to deal with what she wanted. The job had been perfect…at the time. But times had changed. Maybe she should plan to move on.

  She ignored the voice inside that cried out she didn’t really want to leave. This was comfortable and familiar. There had to be a compromise. She ignored the vague feeling of apprehension. Change was never easy, but sometimes it was the right thing to do.

  She walked into the guest bedroom and moved to the desk against the far wall. There, in a file, were the letters she’d received over the past few months. Letters from headhunters telling her about jobs available to someone like her. She’d been recruited before but hadn’t been interested. If it was time to move on, then these companies were her ticket out.

  She stared at the file. Did she really want to leave Cal? Did she have a choice? She’d gone as far as she could go professionally. There would be more money, but that wasn’t enough anymore. The other reality she tried to ignore but couldn’t was that the longer she stayed, the more she was at risk emotionally. Cal was the kind of man she could fall for big time. She’d gotten over her initial crush, which was good. But now she actually knew him and liked him, despite his flaws. If she got emotionally attached to him, then what? He wouldn’t be interested in her—he’d made that very clear. She wouldn’t want to settle for an affair, and he didn’t do anything else. Besides, Cal only wanted what he couldn’t have. He was interested in the chase. She was already a part of his life, so there wouldn’t be much of a hunt.

  She carried the folder to the kitchen and set it on the table. It was definitely time, maybe past time, for her to do something. Before she left for Cal’s in the morning, she would make a few calls and see what was available. She wasn’t ready to make a decision, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask around.

  It was nearly midnight. Cal was well and truly on his way to being drunk. The buzz had become a roar, but it wasn’t going to be enough to let him forget.

  He rose from his desk and moved into the hallway. There, he stared at the closed door, behind which slept his daughter. Son of a bitch, what was he doing with a kid? He didn’t know the first thing about raising a child. She was almost a teenager, which made matters worse. Plus, she hated the sight of him. How was he supposed to make this work?

  Bracing himself for the tirade if she was still awake, he slowly opened her door. He paused before stepping into the darkness.

  Enough light spilled in from the hallway to allow him to see the bed. Anastasia lay on her side, curled toward him. Her brown hair had dried from her shower and lay across the pillow. She’d exchanged her dirty clothes for a new nightgown. There was something dark by her midsection. He stepped closer and saw she clutched the teddy bear to her chest. One arm was tightly wrapped around the toy, as if even in sleep she was afraid someone would take it away.

  In the shadows, she appeared small and defenseless. He could see the faint tracks of her tears, and his heart went out to her. He was worried about her, about what was going to happen, and he was a grown-up who was secure in his life. Imagine what this twelve-year-old must be feeling. Everything she’d known had disappeared. The people who had raised her were gone, the woman she’d been thrust upon had made it clear she was unwelcome. Now a stranger had swept her up into an unfamiliar world. No wonder she lashed out.

  Unfamiliar emotions filled him. There was a tightness in his chest, along with a burning at the back of his throat. He wanted to go to her and hold her close, promising that everything would be fine. But the words held no meaning. Everything wasn’t going to be fine and they both knew it.

  He wished Sabrina was with him. She could explain this to both of them. She always knew the right thing to say. Thank God she was moving in tomorrow morning—otherwise they would never make it.

  As he watched this child who was his daughter, he tried to figure out who she looked like. He saw traces of Janice in her—also flashes of himself. Her mouthiness and temper, for example. Pure Langtry.

  Janice. He backed out of the room and returned to his study. He didn’t want to think about her, but he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t change the past, but he had to learn to deal with it. A woman he’d trusted had betrayed him in a significant way. She’d used him to get pregnant so she could go after the family’s money.

  He sank back into his chair and poured another Scotch. So he’d been a fool. He wasn’t the first man to be taken in by a woman and he wouldn’t be the last. So what?

  But it was more than that, he thought grimly. He should have known, or at least guessed there was a problem. How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn’t he seen through her?

  Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, he admitted. She’d been young and pretty and very willing. At that age, sex had been more important than feelings. Janice had encouraged him, making love wherever and whenever he wanted. Looking back, he realized she’d been far more experienced than he. He hadn’t been looking for anything long term, but he hadn’t expected betrayal, either.

  He didn’t understand her motives and he never would, although it was safer to think about her than to remember his parents and their part in what had happened. He wasn’t ready to rage at his mother for her thoughtless interference. Damn the woman.

  “Why are you surprised?” he asked aloud, before downing half his drink. “These are the Langtrys, after all.”

  They were all sharks. Even him. He didn’t want to be like them, but sometimes he was. Blood would tell and all that. They were the reason he avoided commitment and love. He wasn’t even sure love existed. He’d never seen it at home and wasn’t sure it could survive in the world. So where did that leave Anastasia? With a father who didn’t know the first thing about loving a child.

  Maybe, he thought as the alcohol gripped his brain and made the edges of the room start to blur, just maybe she would have been better off as a ward of the state.

  He’d forgotten that sunlight could hurt so much. Cal blinked as he stepped out of his bedroom. There were skylights in the hallway. He winced and squinted, but it didn’t help. The pounding in his head only increased. He had no one but himself to blame—after all, he knew the potential effects of too much alcohol. He’d been trying to bury his pain, but it was back in full force and this time with n
asty physical manifestations.

  Coffee, he thought desperately. He needed coffee.

  He headed for the kitchen, only to stop in the doorway when he saw Anastasia sitting at the table in the corner. She’d poured herself a bowl of cereal and was in the process of opening a milk carton. She’d brushed her hair back from her face and secured it in a braid. A red T-shirt and matching shorts hung loosely on her slender body, but they were an improvement over the rags she’d had on the previous day. She was pale and skinny, but she looked a lot better. She was, he realized with some trepidation, going to be a pretty young lady.

  She glanced up and saw him. “You look terrible.” Her voice was loud and the tone was exactly high enough to start a series of jackhammers going in his head.

  “I know,” he muttered. “I feel terrible. I just need some coffee, then I’ll be fine.”

  “Why do adults drink coffee?” she asked. “It tastes gross. It’s all dark and yucky. You should try milk. It’s much better.”

  His stomach lurched at the thought of him swallowing milk at that moment in time. “Maybe later,” he said as he hurried to the cupboard and fumbled for a filter. There was a can of grounds in the refrigerator. After measuring out enough for a pot and filling the reservoir with water, he flipped the switch, then prayed it wouldn’t take too long to brew. In preparation, he got down a mug and waited impatiently. At least he’d had the good sense to get a coffeemaker that would allow him to pour a cup before the pot was full.

  Anastasia took a bite of her cereal and chewed. The crunching sounded overloud to him. He tried not to wince.

  “There’s not much food here,” she said when she’d swallowed. “Just this cereal and milk. You don’t eat here often, do you?”

  “No.” He made the mistake of shaking his head and had to swallow a groan. The pounding by his temples was rhythmic—keeping time with his heartbeat. A nice steady thunk, thunk, thunk, at about sixty beats per minute. He felt clammy and his skin was one size too small. He didn’t want to think about the army currently camping on his tongue.

  “Mrs. Sellis didn’t like me to eat too much. She said food was expensive. Is it going to be like that here?”

  There was a note of worry in her voice. Cal forced himself to ignore his symptoms and look at his daughter. Before he could answer, she squared her shoulders and shrugged.

  “I don’t give a damn,” she said. “I don’t need you, you know. I can run away from this place, just like I ran away from hers.”

  “Tell you what, kid,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm, knowing giving into irritation would only make the hangover worse. “You stop swearing and I’ll make sure you get enough to eat. We’ll go to the grocery store as soon as Sabrina arrives.”

  She eyed him mistrustfully. He had the feeling he was being measured against some invisible benchmark, and he knew in his gut he was going to come up short.

  He waited for her to ask the inevitable “And if I don’t?” for which he had no answer. But she didn’t. She shrugged again, as if to say it didn’t matter to her, then shoved a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

  Cal inhaled the scent of coffee and realized the pot was full enough for him to pour a cup. He’d just taken his first healing sip when Sabrina breezed into the kitchen.

  “’Morning, all,” she called in a bright, cheery, migraine-inducing voice. She looked at him and came to a stop. “You look—”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t say it. Please. I know how I look. I feel worse, okay?”

  “You earned it, Cal. You know better than that.”

  “I know.” But even as he said it, some of the pain in his head receded. He had a feeling it had more to do with Sabrina’s arrival than the miracle worked by coffee. “You brought luggage, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. I already put it in the other guest room.” She crossed to the table and sat across from Anastasia. “’Morning,” she said. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Fine.” The preteen didn’t bother looking up from her cereal.

  “I hope you checked the dump date on the milk,” Sabrina said. “Your dad isn’t one for keeping many groceries around. He eats out a lot, but I guess that’s going to change.”

  Anastasia didn’t respond. Cal figured the only reason he wasn’t being called the bastard who wasn’t her father was because of the promise of food. He supposed he should feel some small sense of victory, but he didn’t. No child should understand what it was like to be hungry.

  Sabrina was unaffected by the silence. She tucked her short red hair behind her ears and leaned forward. “You look much better than you did yesterday. Did you sleep well?”

  “I guess.”

  “The clothes seem to be okay. They’re a little big, but when you gain a couple of pounds, they should fit. We’ll stop by the mall, too, later today to fill out your wardrobe.”

  “Whatever.”

  Sabrina glanced at Cal. “So what’s the deal? You’re deducting a dime from her allowance for every word she speaks?”

  “No, but I did ask her to stop swearing.”

  Sabrina’s blue eyes twinkled, although her expression stayed serious. “Maybe she doesn’t know any other words. It could have been the school system.”

  Anastasia rolled her eyes. “I know plenty of words. I just don’t want to talk to you. Why is that a big deal?”

  “Oh, it’s not, I guess,” Sabrina said. “I understand why you want to be sullen. After all, you’ve got a nice place to live, a father who wants to take care of you, a fun, witty and incredibly intelligent woman who would like to be your friend, new clothes and a chance for a new life. What a drag. I’d have a long face, too.”

  Twelve-year-old lips twisted. “Very funny.”

  “See? Witty as promised.” She got up and crossed to the cupboard, where she removed a bowl. When she returned to the table, she poured herself some cereal and picked up the milk.

  As Cal watched her movements, he tried to figure out what was different. There was something about Sabrina this morning, something that—

  He arched his eyebrows, then regretted the movement as more pain shot through his head. The woman was dressed in jeans. He’d seen her in slacks plenty of times, those loose-fitting tailored ones that always looked so businesslike. But this time she wore butt-hugging, curve-tracing, washed-enough-times-to-be-soft-as-a-baby’s-rear jeans.

  Hot damn! He eyed the exposed flare of her hips, the dip of her waist, before moving to her legs. Now, if he could just get her to exchange that green T-shirt for something a little more form-fitting, he would be a happy man.

  Anastasia finished her breakfast and stood up. “What do you want from me?” she demanded. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

  “I know,” Sabrina said. “But you are and it’s not a bad idea to make the best of things. As for what we want, I can’t speak for your dad, but I’d like you to give this place a try. I doubt it can be much worse than what you’ve been through. You might think about being civil. Cooperating is much nicer than fighting all the time. Try a smile.”

  Anastasia curled her fingers up into fists. “I don’t feel like smiling.”

  “I know, honey. It’s hard to lose your family, then come to a strange place. No one is asking you to—”

  Tears filled the girl’s eyes. “You don’t know. You don’t know anything. It’s horrible. It’s the most horrible thing ever.”

  With that, she ran from the room. A few seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut. The sound reverberated through the condo. Cal winced.

  He took another sip of coffee. This was harder than he’d thought. “How long is she going to keep doing that?” he asked. “Running away and slamming doors.”

  Sabrina shook her head. “For as long as it works.”

  Chapter 7

  Sabrina pushed the grocery cart around the corner and glanced at the boxes of cereal. Why did there have to be so many choices? She looked around for Anastasia to ask the preteen what she liked bes
t, then wondered if Cal had a preference.

  She glanced at her boss who had gotten quiet in the past hour or so. “All the shopping getting to you?” she asked.

  Cal shrugged. “It’s not so bad.” He turned, as if checking for his daughter, then lowered his voice. “She hasn’t been fun, but she’s been more pleasant than I expected.”

  Sabrina thought about Anastasia’s sullen expression and lack of communication. “Gee, you weren’t expecting much then, were you?”

  “Not really.”

  Sabrina drew in a breath. “That’s probably wise. I’m sure she didn’t sleep that well, what with being in a strange place. This is unfamiliar for all of us and it’s going to take some time to adjust.”

  “Yeah.” Cal stared at the row of cereal and reached for a box of chocolate flavored crisps. “I haven’t had these since I was a kid. I didn’t know they still made them. Great.” He tossed the box in the cart, then caught Sabrina’s eye. “What?”

  “This is your way of setting a nutritional example for your daughter?”

  “They’ve been fortified with several essential vitamins and minerals.”

  “Oh, there’s a defense. And when combined with milk, they’re part of a wholesome breakfast.”

  He grinned. “Exactly. You saw the commercial, too.”

  “Yes. The difference is I didn’t buy into it. Cal, you cannot have this kind of cereal in the house. It’s disgusting.”

  “So is that bird feed you eat. Real people don’t dine on raw grains.”

  “Real people can do what they want.”

  “Maybe but this is my house and I’m the one paying for the food.”