Lone Star Millionaire

by Susan Mallery

  “Even though I’m paying the bill?” He couldn’t resist teasing her. Maybe he could shake her out of this stiff, professional pose. If he’d never seen her sympathetic-listener side, he wouldn’t miss it now. But he had and he did.

  “You’re paying the bill because you love your daughter and want her to be happy.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, nodding emphatically.

  “I’m that transparent?”

  “Like plastic wrap.”

  “You’ve learned all my secrets,” he confirmed.

  “Then my work here is done.” But her gaze skittered away. She pointed at the clutter on the refrigerator beside him. “Does it always look like that?”

  He studied the mass of magnets, some of them with clips holding coupons, school memos and pictures. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  She tapped her lip. “I can’t decide if it’s a fire hazard or a work of art.”

  “Probably both,” he said with a grin.

  She plucked off a magnetic frame with a photo in it. “Which one of the girls is this?”

  He moved in close to look, even though he knew exactly which one of his daughters it was. “That’s Kendra. She was three months old.”

  Gently, she traced the picture with her finger, as if it were a real, live baby. “She’s so sweet.”

  As sweet as you smell, he thought, breathing in her floral scent. A soft, tender look crept into Thea’s face as she studied the small photo. He hadn’t thought she could look more beautiful, but she did. It took all his willpower to keep from reaching out to trace the curve of her cheek and the line of her jaw. The skin there looked incredibly soft and smooth and perfect. Her small nose turned up slightly with a dusting of freckles splashed over it.

  Strands of hair shimmered around her face like brown silk. It was all he could do to keep from tangling his fingers in it and pulling her to him to taste her mouth, see if it was made for kissing as he suspected. The sight of her made his chest tight and for the first time in a long time, he felt the emptiness inside.

  “She’s completely adorable.” Thea looked at him. “I can’t believe you know exactly how old she is in this picture.”

  “Besides the fact that it’s written on the back,” he said, “I remember everything. I’ve been involved in all my girls’ activities—fairy princesses, sports, school.”

  “Did work get in the way of being a father?” she asked wryly.

  “Sometimes. But since my dad owns the company, it was a little easier to juggle my time. Any pressure about work came from me trying not to take advantage.”

  “So much for trying to make me believe you’re a tough guy where your daughter is concerned.” She looked around the kitchen and into the family room. “Your girls practically grew up in this house. For a man who remembers everything, doesn’t that make you think twice about selling it?”

  He shrugged as he followed her gaze. “It’s just a house. The memories are up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “I’ve got a ton of pictures, ninety-nine-point-nine percent of which are not in albums. I wish digital cameras had been around when my girls were growing up.”

  “Do you have a good one now?” she asked, a spark in her eyes.

  “Yeah. Today’s technology makes storing the memories easier and that appeals to me. Are you interested?” He looked into her eyes and wished they were talking about something more personal than the latest photo technology. Then he realized how his question might sound and added, “In cameras?”

  “Yes. I’m going to need a good one for—” She stopped, looking uncomfortable. “F-for business. I like to take photos of my parties,” she said quickly.

  “I remember. We looked at them the other night when you were here.”

  “Right,” she said, nodding emphatically. “But I’m not into technology much. Connie keeps trying to get me to join the twenty-first century, but my heels are dug in and I’m hanging on to the past with both hands.”

  He laughed. “In certain things I can understand that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’ve tried my damnedest to keep my girls from growing up. But apparently they didn’t get the memo that they’re supposed to stay small.”

  “So you do have mixed feelings about your daughter leaving home and selling the place.”

  “Yes. But soon I’ll rattle around this big house. It’s time for something smaller.”

  Looking unconvinced, she leaned back and studied him. “Fibber. I think you’re a big softie.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “No way. I’m hard as nails and practical. It’s going to be quiet and peaceful around here. When Kendra goes to college, the phone won’t be ringing off the hook and the energy level will drop to normal proportions.”

  “If she goes away.”

  “Even if she decides on the local junior college for now, I’m looking at two years tops until she transfers to a four-year school. The handwriting is on the wall. She’s going to leave whether or not I want her to and I’ll need a smaller place.”

  “And when you’re alone, you’re going to miss her—teen problems and all.”

  He scoffed. “I’ll miss her. But after recent events, I will never miss teenage problems.”

  Thea looked down at the picture in her hands and smiled, softly—sadly. Why sad? What was she thinking to make her look like that?

  He wanted to know. And it hit him like a two-by-four to the head—he wanted to fix whatever was bothering her. But he couldn’t do that without knowing what was wrong. Only the last time he’d tried to draw her out, she’d refused to cooperate. Should he try again? The answer was yes, although not tonight. He didn’t want to give her a reason to hide behind her professional demeanor. Or worse, head for the hills. He was enjoying her company too much.

  He felt a click with her and suspected she felt it, too. He’d admit to being out of practice with women. His experiences were few and far between, but he didn’t remember feeling an attraction like this before. Even if he wanted to, a man couldn’t forget a woman like her.

  Thea put the magnetic frame back on the refrigerator. “So you’re absolutely and completely committed to getting a smaller place?”

  “Yup. Like I said—hard as nails and practical. What do I need with this big house just for me?”

  “What if the girls want to come home for a visit?”

  “I’m not going to live in a cardboard box under the freeway. Wherever I move will just be smaller, but I’ll want a couple of extra bedrooms.”

  One of her delicate eyebrows arched. “I happen to know of a place like that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. My condo.” Before he could say anything, she rushed on. “Actually it was Connie’s idea. I told her you were downsizing and, being Connie, she said in her flippant way that maybe we should trade spaces.”

  Scott rested his forearm on the refrigerator, leaning in close to look down at her. “Intriguing idea.”

  “Isn’t it?” She blinked as she gazed up at him and swallowed. “She actually called it brilliant, but humility has never been her most attractive quality.”

  “I hadn’t gotten as far as thinking where I’d move to, but a condo makes a lot of sense.”

  “It’s practical,” she said, lifting that eyebrow again.

  “Have I mentioned I’m a practical guy?”

  “No way,” she said in mock surprise.

  “Yeah.” He grinned.

  “Then you should check out my place and see if you’re interested.”

  He was interested, all right. Checking out her mouth, he felt the blood flow in his body shift to points south of his belt. Some rusty instinct warned him that this wouldn’t be the best time to check out if her lips were as soft and sexy as they looked. Not if he wanted to know her better. And since she’d just given him a gold-plated invitation to do just that, he could wait.

  “I’d like very much to see your place.”

  “Great.
Let’s look at our calendars and we’ll set up a time.”

  He could hardly wait.

  A week after her visit to Scott’s house, Thea looked at the clock on her microwave. He was due any minute. Instantly, the threads of nerves in her stomach tied into one gigantic knot.

  At this moment, and every one since the words had come out of her mouth, she wished for the invitation back. She was as tense as a chef watching a soufflé. Which was silly because this was business. Sort of. He had a big place and needed a smaller one. She had a smaller one and needed a bigger one. Simply business.

  But it felt very personal and complicated, which made her uneasy.

  The doorbell sounded and she pressed a palm against her abdomen as the knot grew. She glanced in the peephole to check to make sure it was Scott. It was. And even distorted by the peephole, just as Connie had said, he was female-fantasy material. Not for her, of course. But the average woman would be putty in his hands.

  Bracing herself, she turned the dead bolt. With her practiced, professional smile firmly in place, she opened the door. “Scott. I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Me, too.” He walked in and smiled.

  “You’re right on time.”

  She shut the door after him, then turned to find him looking around. He’d walked the length of her entry and waited to step down into her great room. As always, her gaze was drawn to his impressive physique, and it occurred to her that this was the first time she’d seen him in something other than jeans and work boots. In his khaki slacks and the navy knit shirt molded to his broad shoulders, muscular back and trim waist, he cleaned up pretty good. She marveled at her instantaneous female response to that realization. It was nice to know that part of her still worked. Nice, but nerve-racking. In order to avoid more of the same, she resolved to suck it up and get this over with.

  She looked up at him. “I’ll show you around.”

  “Okay.”

  With her arm out, she indicated the long kitchen with a nook at the end where her dinette sat. “This is where For Whom the Bell Toils was born.”

  “I can see why you lease an office. It doesn’t have a lot of counter space.”

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  “On the contrary,” he said. “Less is more as far as I’m concerned.”

  “This is my living room. There’s my office where I do paperwork,” she said, indicating the room set off with French doors. “It could be a downstairs bedroom if you wanted. Although, obviously a solid door would need to be there.”

  He grinned. “I’m a builder. Doors are my domain.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course. That would be a piece of cake for you.” She indicated the stairway. “I’ll show you the upstairs.”

  “The last time we did this, there were surprises.” He held out his arm for her to precede him. “You go first.”

  “I guarantee there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she teased.

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  She led him up, past where the stairs turned, opening to a loft on the left. Through double doors, she took him into her bedroom. “It’s spacious. Big, walk-in closet, double sinks, separate stall shower.”

  “Nice,” he said, looking around.

  She’d chosen roses and ruffles for her bedroom. The walls were painted a neutral rosy beige color and there were vases of dried flowers and a dish of potpourri on her nightstand. It couldn’t be more feminine. And he couldn’t possibly look more masculine and out of place in her froufrou space. The thought was like a speed bump to her racing heart and just as surely it shook her up.

  “There are two more bedrooms.” As he looked in, she swallowed the breathlessness she’d heard in her voice. When she felt in control, she said, “These would make perfect guest rooms for Gail and Kendra when they come to visit.”

  He met her gaze and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I can see why you’re such a busy caterer. Never miss an opportunity to market your product.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not doing a sales presentation. It’s the truth.”

  When they were back downstairs, she wasn’t sure what to do. Should she ask him to sit down? Offer him a drink? At his place it had thrown her when he’d offered her a glass of wine. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she’d have been tempted to take it. That reaction had unnerved her. She was the businesswoman; he was the client. But with Scott, the line between business and pleasure blurred. Something sizzled between them that fried the professional parameters and turned the politically correct into soot.

  But she’d been taught that you could never go wrong being polite. Her mother’s voice in her head wouldn’t let her be anything less. Maybe he had to get home and would turn her down. “I’m sorry I don’t have any beer. Would you like a glass of iced tea? Or a soda?”

  “Iced tea would be great.”

  She should have known. But since she’d opened her big mouth again and made the offer, she couldn’t very well take it back. If only she didn’t feel the power of his appeal every time they were in the same room.

  She walked into her kitchen and reached into the cupboard beside the refrigerator for a glass. After putting in some ice, she pulled out the tea pitcher and poured. “Would you like lemon and sugar?”

  He shook his head and took the drink. After sipping, he looked at the glass, then at her. “What flavor is that?”

  “Passion fruit.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she blushed like a teenager. She hadn’t blushed this much around a guy even when she was a teenager.

  To his credit, he didn’t say anything except, “It’s really good.”

  She leaned her back against the counter. “Town house living is ideal for a busy professional like yourself.”

  “How so?”

  “Outside maintenance is taken care of by an association. I have a small yard in back—patio large enough for a barbecue and a bit of grass and flowers. But essentially there’s no upkeep.”

  “Good to know.”

  “It’s important information to have when one is phasing out responsibility.”

  “That’s something impossible for a father to escape. With two kids in college I’m looking at mega-obligations for a long time to come. And if either of the girls wants to go for a master’s degree, I’ll be doing dad duty even longer.” He lifted one broad shoulder. “I’m just looking to simplify my living arrangements.”

  Thea understood that. This town house was where she’d moved to escape the painful memories after her husband died. It became her haven, allowed her to uncomplicate her life. Now she was ready to take on the responsibility of being a mother. She ached with the need to hold her baby in her arms.

  She looked at Scott and said sincerely, “This is the perfect place to simplify your lifestyle. It’s a little over twenty-three hundred square feet, by the way. Big, but not too big. Just the right amount of space without being overwhelming.”

  He set his empty glass on the counter. “You’re preaching to the choir. I like your place. A lot. It’s exactly what I need.”

  When he said the last words, his gaze darkened with intensity as he looked at her mouth. The realization made her skin grow warm and put a hitch in her breathing. She felt as if she needed to suck in air, yet she couldn’t manage to because of the tightness in her chest.

  She cleared her throat. “Maybe it’s something we should pursue. The real-estate deal, I mean.”

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  “I’ll call Joyce. If you’re serious about swapping spaces, maybe she can cut us a break on her commission. This deal would be half the work.”

  “Maybe.” The soles of his shoes scraped on her tile floor as he shifted his weight. “We can look into that. But—”

  “Yes?” she asked eagerly, excited at the prospect of buying his house. It was everything she wanted. A kitchen large enough to do a lot of her work in, as well as being in the school district where she wanted her son or daughter educated. The perfect plac
e to raise her child. And, she thought, the house had a positive parental vibe. She would be living in the same place as the man who’d successfully raised two fine young women.

  He jammed his hands into his pockets as he shifted his feet. “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

  “Okay.” He looked nervous. What was that about?

  “Would you have dinner with me sometime?”

  Dinner? To talk things over? Just the two of them? Not a good idea. “That’s very nice of you, Scott. But it’s not necessary for you to take me out to dinner to discuss real-estate details.”

  He shook his head. “Actually, talking business was the furthest thing from my mind. I meant, I’d like to take you out for a meal and discuss anything but business.”

  “You mean, a date?”

  “Yeah.” His expression went from tense to sheepish. “But if you have to ask, I guess I’m way rustier at this whole thing than I realized.”

  He wasn’t the only one. If she was more with it, she’d have seen this coming, but she hadn’t.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Dinner’s out of the question.”

  He stared at her with a puzzled expression. “The last time I checked, dinner was a meal that most people take for granted they’re going to eat.”

  Drat. He wasn’t going to let it drop. But a date simply wasn’t going to happen. And she couldn’t violate her prime directive to explain why. She refused to talk about her baby yet. Call her superstitious, but it felt like asking for trouble—a challenge to the fates.

  “I’m just too busy right now. We’re on the cusp of summer. That means weddings. Where there are weddings, there are bridal showers. And all of that is in addition to graduation parties. On top of which people still celebrate birthdays.”

  “You don’t even need to check your schedule?” he asked.

  This was awkward. Actually, she amended, she was awkward. She didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t want to do this. And, for Pete’s sake, what part of no didn’t he understand?

  “Look, you said yourself that you’re trying to simplify your life. You’re going to be an empty-nester soon. I think this dating thing is a knee-jerk reaction to that.”