Lone Star Lovers

by Jessica Lemmon

  Her mother peppered Zach with questions about his family and his job, which he handled with ease as he sawed into his second steak. Pen’s father did a good job of shoving food in his mouth whenever her mom tried to include him in the conversation, so that all he had to do was nod or shake his head in response.

  Pen pushed her sandwich aside, focusing on the potato salad on her plate. She waited for a lull in the conversation and when it came she reached under the picnic table and grabbed Zach’s knee. He jerked his attention toward her, gave her a subtle nod and put down his cutlery.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Brand,” he started, and Pen’s stomach flopped. She hoped her dinner stayed down.

  Paula looked up, eyebrows aloft and Louis did his impersonation of Sam the Eagle from The Muppets. Seriously. If his eyebrows were any lower they’d be his mustache.

  “Pen and I have an ulterior motive for visiting this weekend, other than showing off the engagement ring.”

  Miraculously, her father managed to lower his eyebrows farther.

  “We’re excited to tell you that—” Zach put an arm around Pen and hugged her close, looking down into her eyes when he made the announcement “—we’re expecting a baby in December.” He faced her parents first, then Pen followed suit, in time to witness their twin expressions of shock.

  “I beg your pardon?” That was her mom, who, knife and fork in hand over her plate, sat statue-still while the wind whipped her hair.

  “We’re pregnant, Mom. You and Dad are going to be grandparents.”

  “Oh, my. I’m...” Her mouth froze open until finally, finally, that gape turned into a wide smile. “I’m so happy!” She was off her chair so fast to wrap her arms around Pen’s neck that Louis had to slap his hand down on her plate to keep it from blowing off the table.

  Paula returned to her seat, chattering about due dates and how she’d have to apply for a credit card that offered frequent flier miles so she could visit Dallas on a regular basis.

  “No need, Mrs. Brand,” Zach said smoothly. “We’ll fly you down.”

  At the kind offer, Louis stood with his plate and climbed over the picnic bench’s seat. He grunted once, then stormed into the house, letting the screen door bang behind him.

  That went about like Pen had expected.

  Thirteen

  “They’re okay.” Paula was peeking out of the kitchen window overlooking the deck.

  “You mean Dad isn’t strangling Zach or freezing him out completely?”

  “Nope.” Paula returned to the living room with two mugs of tea. “They’re measuring.”

  “Measuring...do I want to ask what?”

  “The deck, sweetheart.” Paula handed over a mug.

  “Oh, that.”

  Her mother sat on the dilapidated couch next to her, placing a comforting hand on Pen’s knee. “This seems very sudden.”

  “Three months is one quarter of the year. It’s not that sudden.” Pen held her tea close to her lips. She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive.

  “Three months is how long you’ve been pregnant. When did you meet him?”

  “I told you. When I lived here. That’s been years ago.” Pen lifted her thumbnail and nibbled. Her mother’s serious expression remained. “Yes. Okay, it was sudden.”

  “But you’re in love.”

  Thank goodness her mother didn’t put a question mark at the end of that sentence. Pen didn’t like to lie. She smiled instead. No, she and Zach weren’t in love. What they had wasn’t ever supposed to be about love. She couldn’t deny she felt close to him—and that she liked him a whole lot.

  When she thought of her baby, a worrisome thought niggled its way forward. Would her son or daughter grow up thinking love was a fairy tale?

  No, she decided in an instant.

  Pen would show her child love, and Zach would, too. Romantic love was avoidable. She thought back through her past boyfriends and wasn’t sure she’d ever been in love herself. There’d always been an obstacle, an excuse she’d found to keep from getting in too deep.

  Maybe because she’d arranged many false marriages and engagements for publicity and had become the ultimate skeptic. Or maybe the idea of giving in and being someone’s all meant she’d be at risk to lose it all.

  With a child on the way, she couldn’t afford to be selfish.

  A pair of low male laughs carried on the Chicago wind and into the living room and Penelope and Paula exchanged glances.

  “Are they...?” Pen started.

  Paula blinked, then smiled. “I think they are.”

  Zach and Pen’s baby would know love—so much of it, he or she would never want for more.

  But as she made that empty assurance to herself Pen wondered if she could settle for the same.

  * * *

  Louis not only liked to talk about houses and building, he was also a Dallas Cowboys fan.

  Go fucking figure.

  Zach ended up at the picnic table drinking beers and yapping with Pen’s father until well after midnight.

  “I should go up,” Louis said. He cast a glance at an upstairs window. “Paula waits for me.”

  How...nice. Zach’s parents got along fine, but he didn’t remember his mother ever waiting on his dad, or his dad cutting anything short to go to her.

  Louis stood and Zach stood with him. “Thanks for letting us stay.”

  “Paula insisted on always having a guest room for Pen since she moved to Dallas. We lost her to Texas a year before we’re losing her to you.” Louis’s words held no venom, and actually sounded kind of sad. “You’ll see when that baby is born. Just how much you’ll do for it. Just how protective you’ll become.”

  Zach could imagine. He’d already been that way with Penelope. He met Louis’s eyes and confessed just that.

  “I’m like that about your daughter. She’ll never want for anything. Our child wasn’t the reason we became engaged.” His ex-wife was, but Zach sure as hell wasn’t sharing that. “But the baby definitely gave us a good reason to stay that way.”

  Louis nodded slowly, obviously trying to accept the fact that his baby girl had gotten engaged and impregnated by some billionaire cowboy. Damn if Zach could understand Pen’s father’s position when he imagined having a daughter of his own.

  With a slap to Zach’s shoulder, Louis echoed his fear. “God help you if you have a girl.”

  * * *

  Zach shut the door to the guest bedroom after brushing his teeth, stepping lightly across the real wood floors that were scarred and in need of a good wax. Paula had mentioned as much when she’d shown them to their room before looking to Zach to check if he’d be appalled by staying in such squalor. Her words, said on a tight laugh.

  He’d assured her he could sleep anywhere, and though he’d kept it to himself, he’d also considered that he would sleep anywhere as long as Penelope was by his side.

  He climbed into the double bed, a tight fit, the mattress sagging in the center. Pen let out a soft hum and wiggled under the blankets. Wrapping his arm around her middle, he tugged her close and buried his nose in her hair.

  When he’d met her years ago in Chicago at a party, he’d been in full-on playboy mode. He’d set his Dallas drawl to full-tilt and laid on the charm, promising not to get into any trouble lest Pen’s PR firm would have to step in and straighten him out. He hadn’t seen her after that, so running into her at a swanky club in Texas had taken him by surprise.

  He wasn’t a man who believed in fate, kismet or meant-to-be, but as he allowed his fingers to drape over his fiancée’s abdomen, he wondered if he wasn’t seeing this for what it was.

  A second chance.

  But as the thought hit him, so did the palpable fear of screwing it up. Of being in a position to lose not only the woman beside him but also access to their child.

  Zach hadn�
�t thought about fatherhood. Hadn’t thought about it even when he’d asked Lonna to marry him. But the moment Pen announced her pregnancy an overwhelming feeling of right swept over him.

  It wasn’t just the baby. It wasn’t just that he was in his thirties and it was past time for him to consider starting a family. It wasn’t that he’d crafted a fake engagement to distract from the real issue at hand.

  The game-changer was Penelope Brand.

  She murmured in her sleep—or her half sleep, as it were—and he kissed her shoulder. He’d promised to claim her in this very bed, parents’ house or no, believing their sexual chemistry would rival the need for sleep and trump the need to be quiet with her parents down the hall.

  Now, though...

  She rolled in his direction, her eyes opening briefly then shutting again. The moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting her fair hair and kissing her curved cheekbone.

  He’d claim her in a different way tonight.

  He scooted in the springy bed to give her room. Her body was going through the rigorous toils of crafting a baby—their baby—and she needed all the sleep she could get.

  He couldn’t give her everything, but that, he could.

  * * *

  The flight home from Chicago was quick, and soon enough Zach and Pen were changing from their comfy flight clothes into slightly more formalwear for visiting the Ferguson house.

  One set of parents down, one to go.

  She’d let Zach choose the nature of the venue, which he’d scheduled for cocktail hour. She’d argued about building their visit around alcohol since she wouldn’t be having any but he’d assured her she didn’t have to worry.

  At a little after seven Saturday evening, Pen settled onto the settee across from the chaise longue in the sitting room at the Ferguson mansion.

  Elle was perched formally on the edge of a high-backed chair, Rider settled into the one next to it. A female member of the house staff walked in with a tray holding four martinis with speared olives in each elegant glass.

  Zach accepted his glass, but held up a hand when the younger woman bent to give Penelope her drink. “My fiancée is expecting, so she’ll need something nonalcoholic. Club soda with a lime, okay?” He pegged Pen with a playful look while she struggled not to swallow her tongue.

  Evidently, breaking the news to his parents wasn’t going to be a slow build.

  Rider accepted his drink, Elle hers, and Pen offered a shaky smile in response. Elle’s right eyebrow was curved so high on her forehead, it’d been lost in her hair.

  No one said a word until Pen had a club soda in hand. Elle went first.

  “And here we thought you’d come to tell us that your engagement was a sham to distract from your ex-wife.”

  “Eleanor, for the love of—” Rider let out an exasperated huff and swallowed a mouthful of his martini.

  “You’re only allowed one of those, don’t forget. Savor it.”

  Pen stiffened, but the comforting weight of Zach’s arm was around her back in an instant.

  “We’re due in December. We wanted to tell you in person before you found out from someone else.”

  Elle pursed her already pursed lips, her cool green stare assessing and, from Pen’s vantage point, not all that approving.

  “I think it’s great,” Rider said with a huge smile. Pen latched on to the man’s sentiment like a lifeline. “We already wrote you a check.” He reached into the pocket of his slacks and came out with a folded paper. “It’s for the wedding, but now I suppose you can include it with preparing for our first grandchild.”

  He let out a hearty laugh and embraced Elle’s hand. “Better than croaking of a heart attack before I get to meet my grandkids, eh, Elle?”

  “I suppose that’s true.” She narrowed her eyes again and Pen shifted in her seat. “What interested you most in my son, Ms. Brand? His money or his DNA?”

  Next to her, Zach went on alert, but Pen stayed his retort by touching his arm.

  “I can understand how this information comes as a shock to you, but there’s no need to be rude, Mrs. Ferguson. I’m neither a gold digger nor a woman who expected to get pregnant. Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to know the part of your son that most interests me. I simply saw someone I liked.” She paused to take in Zach, whose mouth flinched like he might be fighting a proud smile. “And had to have him.”

  She snapped her attention back to Elle, who’d dropped her jaw. Likely no one dared speak to the Oil Queen of Dallas the way Pen had, but the older woman had started it.

  “Mom.”

  Elle turned her stunned reaction to Zach.

  “We’re not asking your permission, or for your approval. But I expect you to be much more gracious when the baby is here. He or she will be the first-born grandchild in the family.”

  Elle drank down her martini in hearty gulps, then retrieved the spare martini left behind when Pen refused it and gulped that one, too.

  Rider, his good humor intact, let out a crack of laughter. “Guess she’ll be having my second one, then.”

  Fourteen

  “Pen, hang on.”

  The moment they’d exited Zach’s parents’ house, Pen marched down the driveway, fists at her sides.

  “Wait.” Zach caught her easily, snagging her biceps with a gentle hand and spinning her to face him. He was grinning and she glared at the dimple rather than admire it. Nothing about this evening had been funny.

  “They hate me.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Your mother hates me.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She’s just...in shock. Not everyone is going to take this news as well as we did.”

  “I didn’t take it well. I avoided you for three days and drafted nine PR plans before I decided I couldn’t make one until I told the father of my child I was having his baby!”

  Zach’s emerald eyes darkened when he tugged her closer, his grip tight but tender. She’d been battling fatigue, nausea and dizziness for weeks, but now it seemed the worst was behind her. The sexual tension that existed between them returned.

  “You handling Eleanor Ferguson was quite possibly the sexiest moment I’ve ever witnessed.”

  Some of the fire went out of her. “Ever?”

  His grin widened. “No. Not ever. Why don’t I take you home and we can try for a new sexiest moment ever?”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “I know.”

  “You haven’t complained.” He’d been damn near angelic.

  “I know.”

  She took a few steps closer in heels he hadn’t bitched about tonight. Her shoes were a battle he’d allowed her to win. She fingered his collar and slipped her other hand down his buttoned shirt and over his black slacks.

  A low grunt came from his throat when she pressed her lips to his, continuing her intimate massage down below. A few firm strokes and soon that part of him was much bigger than before.

  He deepened their kiss, hands coming around to cup her ass. Every firm inch of him was flush against her and her hormones perked up.

  “Zach.” The breathy lilt of her voice was one she’d forgotten she’d possessed. “How about we take the car out in the yard and see if I can’t break the sexiest moment record here.”

  “In the car?” His voice took on a husky quality and she laughed.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a girl go down on you in a car.”

  “Not a girl as classy as you are,” he all but growled.

  “Good.” She put a teasing kiss on the center of his mouth. “I love being first.”

  He wasn’t wearing a tie, so she settled for dragging him to his car by the shirtsleeve. Zach followed, wide steps allowing for the part of him currently cheering the most for Pen’s bold offer.

  She liked that she had
the power to affect him. It made her feel as if she could do anything. It made her feel like the woman she’d been before Cliff strangled her business into submission.

  Zach put the car in gear and drove them behind the house and to the back of the grounds where trimmed trees and perfectly clipped grass met elegantly arranged flowers and shrubberies that were works of art.

  “Your mom’s going to freak about the landscaping when she sees the tire treads.”

  “First.” Zach turned off the car and rolled the windows down. “That’s the last time you mention my mom tonight. Second. I can’t think of a second because my brains have relocated to my crotch.”

  “Hmm.” Pen stifled her laughter to take advantage of the very sexy scene this created. Bucket leather seats, windows down, a warm Texas breeze heating the interior of the car and covering her neck in a light sheet of sweat where her hair fell. “I’m going to have to get a closer look to confirm.”

  Nothing felt better than turning him on. He wore lust so baldly—the flare of his nostrils, the widening of his pupils.

  She undid his belt and released the clasp on his slacks. He was hard and ready, and when she slipped the waistband of his boxers past his erection, she licked her lips.

  “You’re doing that on purpose.”

  “Well. Yes.” She rolled her eyes and he crushed another kiss onto her lips before she pulled away and lowered her head. She took him on her tongue, guiding his length deep into her mouth. His legs went rigid, knees locking as she continued working him over. His utterances were a mixture of swear words, reverent callouts to the Almighty, and incoherent groans. Just when she was starting to enjoy herself, he tugged her up and pressed another kiss onto her lips.

  “Don’t you dare move.”

  He jerked his pants over his hips and came around to her side of the car, pulling the door open and offering his hand like a prince helping her from a carriage. Except his pants were sagging open, his erection outlined by the tails of his untucked, wrinkled white shirt.