Mommy Heiress (Accidental Dads #2)

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  Mommy Heiress

  Linda Randall Wisdom

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Peyton Estate

  Bel Air, California

  “Courtney, you may be my daughter and I love you, but there is no way in hell I will give you five million dollars for a broken-down piece of property.”

  “I’m talking about a wonderful investment, Daddy, not a broken-down piece of property,” Cori argued. “And it’s practically an historical monument in England. With your British roots, that should please you.”

  Sean Peyton glowered at his daughter under heavy brows. That same glower had intimidated many a business mogul over the years. Unfortunately, it had no effect on his only daughter.

  “I was never British,” he groused, glaring at her across the polished surface of his walnut desk. “I was born in Cornwall.”

  “Close enough.” Cori walked around his desk and perched herself on the edge, crossing her legs at the knee. She leaned over, circling his ear with her fingernail. The smile on her face was that of a daughter who knew how to wrap her father around her little finger. “Think about the advantage this business would offer me, Daddy,” she crooned. “You’ve been begging me to do something with my life. Opening a bed and breakfast in the house would be perfect for me. Everyone has always said what a wonderful hostess I am.”

  He jerked his head away from her teasing touch. But as he gazed at his child, warmth overtook the frost of his glare. “What do you know about running a hotel?”

  “I’ve certainly stayed in enough of them over my lifetime to know what goes on in one. I would hire qualified staff to handle everything else. I’ll just be there to greet the guests and plan special activities for them,” she explained.

  Sean shook his head in wonder. What had happened in the past fifteen years to the little girl he loved more than life itself? Trouble was, he already knew the answer. Her mother had died so suddenly, leaving them both grief stricken, and because Cori looked so much like Elizabeth, he spoiled her shamelessly. It was Cori’s nature to be warm and loving—she was actually one of the most unselfish people he knew—but it hadn’t stopped her from believing she could have anything she wanted just by asking Daddy for a check. And, God help him, he had done that too many times.

  “Cori, my love, a successful business owner knows everything that goes on with his trade,” he told her. “You can’t even make a bed.”

  “So I’ll learn if it’s that important to you!” She fidgeted. “I would really like to get away!”

  Now he knew exactly what was going on.

  “It’s because of that bastard!” he said in his rumbling voice that still held a hint of his Cornish ancestors.

  She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “All right, I’ll be the first to admit Rufus was a big mistake. I’ll even admit he only wanted me for my money. Does that make you happy?”

  Sean looked down and noticed he held his pen so tightly his fingers were white. “The man didn’t have one ounce of common sense in his body. Not to mention—what mother names her child Rufus? Sounds more like an Irish setter than a man. If you could even use that term when referring to him. It’s a good thing you didn’t marry him, girl, because I would have had to disinherit you.”

  “I already admitted he was a mistake!” She rolled her eyes. “But that’s why I want to get away. Buying the house and turning it into an inn would be a perfect catharsis for me. So if you would just deposit the amount in my account, I would be very happy. Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll pay you back out of my profits.” She leaned down and started to slide open his top desk drawer. He quickly shut it.

  “Courtney, I love you dearly, but I will not loan you the money.” Even as he spoke, he noticed the storm already brewing in her navy-blue eyes. “To be honest, you are talking about a business proposition and you have no concept of what is involved in running any kind of business.”

  “I took business classes in college,” she argued, stung by his refusal.

  “And you never bothered sticking any of them out, either. What do you have to show for it? Not a degree, that’s for sure.” He took a deep breath, needing to make her understand. “What if something happened to me tomorrow?”

  She suddenly looked stricken. She reached forward and grabbed his hands between hers, rubbing them gently as if infusing her own life force into him. “Oh, Daddy, you’re not sick, are you?”

  He hated himself for worrying her. “No, I’m just asking you what you would do if I wasn’t here and you discovered you had nothing.”

  Cori shook her head. “Daddy, I’ll always have you. And you made sure I always carry my credit cards with me,” she teased.

  Sean took a deep breath. He knew his daughter wasn’t the least bit dumb. Too many intelligence tests proved that. So why didn’t she stop to think? He hated what he was going to do, but he had no choice. She was going to have to learn what the real world was all about, no matter how painful the lesson.

  “No money,” he stated flatly. “In fact, if you are so keen on buying an English country house to turn into an inn, you’ll just have to find the money yourself. I will not loan you the money and I will not see you go to England. If you have to pine for that idiot Rufus, you can do it here.”

  Cori hopped off his desk. “But, Daddy, I need to get away,” she insisted.

  He shook his head again. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had refused her more often years ago.

  To her credit, Cori didn’t throw a tantrum. Instead, distress crossed her delicate features and darkened her blue eyes.

  “Then I suppose you won’t mind if I go for a long drive to clear my head?” she said with a haughty toss of her golden blond hair that reminded Sean of his own dear Elizabeth.

  “Darlin’, you feel free to take a drive and, afterward, we will sit down and talk about your future in the working world,” he said with an expansive sweep of his arms. “I’m sure we can find something here for you that will keep you occupied.”

  Cori walked to his office door with only a slight sniffle to betray her sorrow.

  “You wait and see, Daddy. One day I’ll show you I’m not the child you think I am,” she declared before marching out.

  Sean heaved a sigh as the door closed after her.

  “I can only hope. But I’m afraid I won’t be holding my breath.”

  Chapter One

  Cal’s Gas and Oil

  Farrington, Kansas

  “I’ve got good news for ya and bad news for ya.” The lanky mechanic wiped his hands on a rag that looked as if a clean spot couldn’t have been found on it. The name Jess was stitched over his left chest pocket.

  “Do us both a favor and give me the good news first.”

  “I can fix your car.”

  Cori brightened up. “That’s great! Why are you saying you have bad news?”

  He looked apologetic. “I just can’t fix it right now.”

  Cori looked as if someone had punched her in the solar plexus.

  “What do you mean you can’t fix it right now?” She surveyed her surroundings, seeing the dark interior of the garage, inhaling air redolent with the pungent aroma of gas and oil, not to mention the
less than attractive aroma belonging to Jess who stood a short distance from her. Her French perfume bravely fought the other scents and lost.

  Dressed in grease-stained cotton coveralls, his face and hair streaked with the same slippery substance, he looked like a creature out of a horror movie. But his grin, white teeth gleaming against his smeared face, was pure midwestern.

  “Gotta fix up the doc’s truck first,” he explained, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s real important he has his truck for emergencies.”

  Cori had seen enough of the small town to hazard a guess “the doc” was probably their only hope for medical care.

  “How long will it take after you finish his truck?”

  “Depends if I can get the parts. The guy I need to talk to is out to lunch. Look, why don’t you go on down the street to Myrna’s. Relax, have something to eat and I’ll call you down there,” he suggested.

  Cori looked around. Since the day had turned blistering hot, the idea of a cold drink was appealing.

  “There would be no problem calling me there?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Look around town if you want to,” he offered. “Like I said, I just gotta get Doc’s truck up and runnin’. It shouldn’t take too long. It’s just a brake job.” He glanced at her Jensen Healey with undisguised envy. “Sure is a sweet little car. How much they go for?” His eyes bugged out when she told him. “No kiddin’?” He shook his head. “Tell ya what, miss, I’ll even put clean coveralls on before I work on it.”

  Cori’s smile was like blinding sunlight. “Thank you.” She pulled her bag out of the car and started to leave the garage. She turned back around. “Where is this Myrna’s?”

  “Can’t miss it. It’s six doors down.” He clutched the grease-covered rag to his chest as he watched her walk outside. Gil, his brother and partner in the garage, walked up behind him.

  “She shore is pretty,” Gil commented.

  Jess nodded. “Like someone out of the movies.”

  The two young men remained frozen to the floor as they watched the young woman, dressed casually in an above-the-knee denim skirt and pink tank top, walk down the dusty road. Her golden blond hair was partially covered by a denim billed cap. While billed caps were nothing new in town, this one was; for one, it didn’t carry the name of a local feed store, and second, the denim bill was covered with delicate white lace.

  “If I had any brains I’d take a long time working on her car,” Jess commented.

  “If you had any brains, you’d realize she’s pure class,” Gil told him, walking back outside when he noticed Mrs. Hammond had driven up in her ancient Studebaker.

  *

  THE FIRST THING Cori noticed when she walked down the sidewalk was the curious looks people directed her way. She decided they weren’t used to having a lot of visitors and put it out of her mind.

  She took her time walking down the tree-lined street, pausing to look in store windows. She could see the sleepy little town was like so many she had driven through the past two days. Many of the buildings hadn’t been painted in a while and were now faded from the merciless sun. At the dress shop, she stopped, noting the yellow shorts and top featured in the window.

  “Needs more pizzazz,” she murmured, and continued on two more doors down to Myrna’s Coffee Shop.

  The white building was brightened up with bright green gingham curtains in the windows and a small sign in the window that proclaimed If You Eat At Myrna’s And Leave Hungry, It’s Your Own Fault.

  The moment she stepped into the air-conditioned interior, the low rumble of conversation stopped abruptly. Men, seated around various tables and in booths, openly watched her walk toward the counter. The women tried to hide their glances.

  Cori perched on one of the vinyl stools. A waitress wearing a blue gingham uniform and white apron walked over. The woman’s hair was so red it was almost orange, and it was teased high into a bouffant straight from the sixties.

  “Coffee?” She held up a glass pot.

  Cori shook her head. “Do you have Diet Coke?”

  “Sure.” She handed her a plastic-coated menu. “Ralph’s special today is meat loaf.” She walked away.

  Cori studied the menu, amazed by the offerings that ranged from country-fried steak to fried chicken to steak and eggs served all day long. Her nerves had been running on high since she realized driving alone across half the country might not be a good idea. Yet, she still wasn’t ready to go back home and see her father again. She took a deep breath. Her stomach had been upset lately and sleep hadn’t been offering her the usual peace she was used to. She only hoped she wasn’t getting sick.

  “Haven’t they heard the words cholesterol and fat here?” she murmured, feeling her stomach roil a bit when she noticed the waitress serve a large bowl of chili to one of the customers. She turned to give the waitress a smile when the woman deposited a large ice-filled glass of cola. “Could I have a salad, please? With low-cal ranch dressing on the side. Oh, and Jess at the garage is looking at my car and he said he’d call me here. He said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  The woman smiled and shook her head. “Honey, it’s no problem at all. But I wouldn’t expect your car to get fixed right away. I bet he won’t be able to look at it until he finishes that brake job on the doc’s truck. Are you sure you only want a salad? Darlin’, you’re so tiny you could blow away in a strong wind.”

  “Just a salad is fine, thank you. It’s really too warm for anything else.” Cori peeled the paper off her straw and stuck it in her drink. She discovered just how thirsty she was when she drank almost half the glass. Before she could blink, the waitress had swept up her glass and refilled it.

  “It’s hot out there, all right.” The woman leaned on the counter. “Where ya from?”

  “California.”

  She brightened up. “Really? You from Hollywood?”

  Cori hid her smile at everyone’s assumption a person from California came from the fabled tinsel town.

  “No, I’m from Bel Air. It’s near Beverly Hills.”

  Her eyes widened. “Honest? I’ve heard of that place. I read about it in a magazine. They say it’s real ritzy there. So what do you do there? Model?” Her gaze swept over Cori, taking in the silk tank top and denim skirt that might have looked casual, but probably cost more than she made in six months.

  “No, my father has his own business.” Cori wasn’t used to such open curiosity and wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it.

  “Movies?”

  She shook her head. “Finance.” How did one explain your father dealt with billions of dollars a year?

  “Oh.” She nodded. “A banker.”

  “Sophie, we gonna get any more coffee today?”

  She looked up. “You’ll get it when I’m ready and not until then.” She smiled at Cori. “Men. Can’t keep ‘em. Can’t shoot ‘em. You think about orderin’ the meat loaf. You need some meat on your bones, girl.”

  Cori glanced around. “What I need is my car working,” she murmured, picking up her glass and sipping her drink. She reached inside her purse and pulled out a paperback book. She had barely opened it when she felt a presence on her right.

  “Hear you have car trouble.”

  She kept her forefinger in her book to hold her place as she turned her head. The man seated on the stool could have been sixty or eighty. Dressed in ancient denim overalls and a faded blue flannel shirt with the sleeves neatly buttoned at the wrists, displaying gnarled hands that showed a lifetime of hard work. He looked the picture of the farmer. Especially with the navy billed cap advertising John Deere set on top of his mostly bald head.

  “Yes, I do.” She smiled at him. “News must travel fast in this town.”

  “With not much else going on, newcomers are our best source of entertainment. Where ya from?”

  “Los Angeles.”

  His lips pursed in a low whistle. “What the hell, pardon my language, you doin’ all the way out here, darlin’?�
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  “Hell, pardon my language, if I know.”

  The man’s laughter erupted from his chest. He slapped his knee with a gnarled hand.

  “You stay around, cutie, and we’ll get along fine.” He patted her hand and moved off the stool, shuffling his way back to a table filled with his cronies.

  “Here’s your salad.” A plate landed near Cori’s elbow.

  Cori turned back to the counter and stared at a creamy mound on top of the largest heap of greens she had ever seen.

  “I asked for the dressing on the side,” she said in a barely audible voice.

  “Honey, around here, Ralph puts the dressing on top and you’re lucky he does that,” the waitress brusquely informed her before bustling off.

  Cori picked up her fork and carefully scraped most of the dressing to the side of the plate. She picked up the paperback and quickly found herself engrossed in the fast-paced mystery as she ate.

  “You own that fancy car out at Cal’s?”

  Cori’s lips had just closed over her fork. She managed a polite smile as she chewed and swallowed.

  “Yes, I do.”

  This man looked like her other visitor’s twin, except his cap advertised Martin’s Feed and Seed and his shirt was red and blue stripes.

  “Pretty car.”

  “Thank you.” She wondered what else he was going to ask. She easily guessed there were no secrets kept in this town.

  The man’s head bobbed up and down in a nod. “Expensive?”

  “It’s British made.” She didn’t think he’d like to hear the car probably cost more than he made in a lifetime. Cori was considered flighty at times, but she would never dream of hurting someone’s feelings.

  “British! Dammit, woman, doncha know you’re supposed to buy American-made cars!” He shook his head. “Honey, they’re only out to get our money, you know that, don’t you? Look how they tried to rule us all those years ago. Them selling us cars is just their way of gettin’ even for losing the Revolutionary War.”