At the CEO's Pleasure

by Yahrah St. John

  Anger flaring, she flipped her phone screen toward her again and dialed her sister’s number. As the oldest of eight siblings, Lydia was used to high drama in the family. But for most of her life, the main perpetrator had been her mother, a woman who had parlayed her parenting experience into a successful homemaking blog, House Rules. Fiona Walker’s online followers loved her “whimsical” approach to childrearing that Lydia viewed as flighty at best and, at times, downright dangerous. Lydia had hoped Royal, Texas, would be a fresh start for her and Gail once the youngest of their siblings was old enough to fend for himself with their mom.

  But now, with the mortifying news of Gail’s over-the-top bachelor auction bid, Lydia had to admit that her sister hadn’t fallen far from the maternal tree.

  “Lydia!” Her sister squealed her name as she answered her phone. “You’ll never guess where I am!”

  Frustration simmered.

  “I certainly hope you’re at the Pancreatic Cancer Research Foundation explaining how you’re going to magically make one hundred thousand dollars appear,” Lydia snapped, powerless to restrain herself. “Gail, what on earth are you doing?”

  Anxious and irate, she paced around her half-finished kitchen in the house she’d been slowly renovating to one day open an in-home child care business. She nearly tripped on the flooring samples she’d carefully laid out by the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. The toe of her slipper sent Spanish cedar and mahogany samples flying over the ash and buckthorn pieces.

  “I am having a romantic holiday with the man of my dreams,” her sister retorted, her tone shifting from excited to petulant. “Is it too much to ask for you to be happy for me? For once?”

  Lydia covered her eyes with one hand, remembering her mother had said those same words to her—almost verbatim—just last week when Lydia refused to be in her wedding. Now, her head throbbed while the morning sunlight poured in through the back door. “I’m happy that you’re having a good time. But I’m very worried about how you’re going to cover the bid you placed at the bachelor auction. Have you spoken with the cancer foundation?”

  “I’ll bet that’s why my credit card didn’t work yesterday at the spa,” Gail mused. In the background, music that sounded like it came from a mariachi band was growing louder. “I forgot about the payment to the bachelor auction.”

  “What payment?” Lydia pressed, heading back to the kitchen table to clear her plate and cup. “You don’t have the kind of money you bid.”

  She held the phone on her shoulder, pinning it to her cheek while she set the dishes in the sink.

  “And I’ll figure it out after vacation, okay, Ms. Worrywart?” Her sister raised her voice to be heard over the music. “Oh, and just FYI, I’m ignoring calls from anyone I don’t know this week.”

  “Who has been calling you?” Apprehension spiked. “The charity people?”

  “No, the guy who was in charge that night. John? James?” Gail sighed. “Just forget it, okay? Right now, I’ve got to get back to my margarita before the ice melts!”

  “Gail, wait—”

  But her screen already read, “Call Ended.” And she knew her sister well. There wasn’t a chance Gail would answer if she phoned again.

  It is okay to say no to unnecessary crazy.

  The words had helped Lydia survive her teenage years. But right now, the mantra didn’t roll off the tongue so well when she thought about how the local folks who had worked hard to raise money for charity were being misled. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had hosted the event, and their members were a who’s who list of the town’s most influential people. Lydia wanted to put roots down in Royal. She’d already bought the fixer-upper property to start her child care business here. The last thing she needed was a mark against her family name because of Gail’s impulsiveness.

  Maybe she could at least explain the situation to someone before the news surfaced about Gail’s lack of payment.

  Scrolling back to the news piece, she found the name she was looking for. James Harris. The MC of the event must have been the one who’d tried contacting Gail. She’d missed seeing his photo in the margin of the story the first time, too dismayed by her sister’s behavior to see beyond the text of the story. But now, Lydia’s eyes lingered on the image of the man who was also the current president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

  Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. The photo showed him in front of the organization’s historic clubhouse building, a fawn-colored Stetson shielding his face from the Texas sun. Tall and well built, he wore a fitted gray jacket that skimmed impressive muscles. Broad where a man should be. Lean in the hips. An angular jaw with a great smile. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly because they were shadowed by the brim of his hat, but his skin was a warm, inviting brown.

  She blinked fast to banish the image from her brain since she could not afford to be sidelined by the man’s potent sex appeal. Lydia was not in the market for romance. Her mother’s active, dramatic love life had given Lydia a front-row seat for the way romance changed people. Fiona had metamorphosed into someone new for each guy she’d dated, heedless of how her whims affected the whole family. Lydia wasn’t looking for even mild flirtation, especially not with someone her sister had bilked out of a small fortune.

  She knew better than to try to fix things that were out of her control, but she could at least extend Mr. Harris the common courtesy of explaining Gail’s situation. And, perhaps, learn possible options for compromise on the bill so she could speak sensibly to her sister upon her return. If she could still salvage some goodwill in the community in spite of Gail’s fake bid, it would be a minor miracle.

  Lydia had an appointment to meet with the contractor who was supposed to work on her kitchen at noon. But right after that, she’d stop by the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

  And hope with all her heart that James Harris was an understanding man.

  * * *

  “Lydia Walker is here to see you,” the disembodied voice announced through James Harris’s office intercom system.

  He straightened from where he’d been practicing his golf swing in his office at the clubhouse. Although he’d never been much of a golfer, he had a golf tournament on his calendar and his competitive streak bristled at the idea of bringing down his foursome. Besides, focusing on a sport during his lunch break helped distract him from the knot of stress at the base of his spine. He’d never guessed the amount of work that came with his new position in the TCC, duties that ate into his time running his own ranch every day. But to complicate matters immeasurably, he now had a toddler nephew to raise.

  When his brother, Parker, and Parker’s wife had died in a car accident three months ago, James had been devastated. But in addition to his own grief at losing a loved one he’d deeply respected, he had been struggling with the fact that Parker’s will entrusted James with the care of his son, Teddy. The weight of that responsibility threatened to take his knees out from under him if he allowed himself to dwell on it too long.

  “Walker?” James repeated. The stress knot in his back tightened more at the mention of his visitor’s name. Setting aside the putter, he walked closer to the intercom. “As in the woman who ran off without paying her bachelor bid last week?”

  How could someone publicly bid money they didn’t have? Or maybe she did have the money, but she just didn’t care to give the $100,000 she promised to the Pancreatic Cancer Research Foundation. Unwilling to risk the bad publicity, especially for an event he’d supervised, he’d ended up covering the debt himself. Better to keep the club out of the papers.

  That didn’t mean the matter was settled.

  “That was Gail Walker.” The woman at the desk out front lowered her voice. “Maybe Lydia is a relative.”

  “Send her in.” He kicked two golf balls under the couch near the window. Lately, he didn’t mind extending his hours on-site at the clubhouse since the
re was a child care facility in the building and it seemed the one place his nephew was content. At home, Teddy was a handful. And then some.

  James strode toward his office door to greet his guest. He hoped she was carrying a big fat check. Because while James hadn’t begrudged spending his personal funds on a worthy cause, he couldn’t help but resent a woman who felt no obligation to uphold a social contract.

  Pulling open the office door, he could see he’d startled the woman on the other side.

  Tall and slim, she had light brown hair and honey-colored skin that set off wide hazel eyes. She was dressed in khakis and a neat white blouse with a long pink sweater belted at her waist. She had one hand raised as if to knock while she nibbled at her lush lower lip. Her gaze darted anxiously to his.

  A wholly unexpected attraction blindsided him.

  He stared at her a beat too long.

  “Lydia Walker?” He offered his hand belatedly, irritated with himself for the wayward thoughts. “I’m James Harris.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Her handshake was cool and firm. Businesslike. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Harris.”

  “Please, call me James.” Standing back, he waved her into the office, leaving the door open to the clubhouse behind her. He glanced over toward the double doors leading into the child care facility, half expecting to see Teddy banging on the window. Or a child care worker running for the hills. But all was quiet. Thankfully. Returning his attention to his guest, he said, “Have a seat.”

  James gestured to one of the leather chairs near the windows overlooking the garden and swimming pool. The TCC president’s office had been remodeled along with the rest of the historic building. Larger windows and higher ceilings now let in more light, and there were brighter colors in the decor. But the dark hardwood floors and oversize leather furnishings retained the feel of a men’s club from a bygone era. Historic photographs and artifacts from the club’s storied past filled the walls.

  For a few hours here each week, he could pretend his life was normal again. That he wasn’t a stand-in father struggling to provide a home for an eighteen-month-old boy who surely felt the absence of his parents, yet was far too young to express himself. Dragging his fractured thoughts back to the appealing woman in his office, James focused on the here and now.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Ms. Walker? Coffee or tea? A water?”

  “No, thank you. And please call me Lydia.” She set her simple leather handbag on the floor by her feet while he lowered himself into the chair beside hers. “I won’t take up much of your time. I just came to see what I could to do in regard to my sister’s debt. I’ve been out of town, and I only just read the news this morning.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, admiring her frank approach. “I appreciate that, Lydia, but I’m not sure how much I’m at liberty to divulge regarding your sister’s...finances.”

  He was no expert in the law, but he felt sure that if Gail Walker hadn’t specifically asked her sister to intervene on her behalf, he shouldn’t discuss the woman’s bad debt with her sibling.

  “I’m not asking for any information.” Lydia sat forward in her seat, her expression serious. “I already know that Gail couldn’t possibly pay what she promised the charity on the night of the auction. I’m sure she will contact you when she returns from her trip. But until then, I wondered about a potential compromise.”

  So much for his hope that Lydia Walker came bearing a check.

  “A compromise?” Impatience flared. He wasn’t interested in a nominal payment toward the balance. “This isn’t a credit card debt where you can take out a consolidation loan and suddenly pay less than you owe.”

  Lips compressed in a flat line, she straightened in her seat. “And I’m aware of that. But she can’t produce funds she doesn’t have. So I had hoped to give Gail some ideas for what she could do instead. Perhaps donate her time volunteering for the charity in some way?”

  Her hazel eyes turned greener as she bristled. The color intrigued him, even as he knew he shouldn’t take any pleasure from her frustration. She’d meant well.

  “I see.” He nodded, thinking over her offer. She didn’t know that the charity had already been paid, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to share his own contribution. Instead, he found himself asking, “May I ask your interest in the matter? Why not just let your sister contact us when she returns home?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Do you have any siblings, James?”

  The question cut straight through him, his grief still fresh. “Not as of three months ago.”

  The terse sound of the words didn’t begin to convey the ache behind them.

  Lydia paled. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea—”

  “You couldn’t possibly know.” Stuffing down the rawness of the loss, James stood suddenly, needing to move. He headed toward the minifridge and retrieved two small bottles of water, more for something to do than anything else. Still, he brought one back to Lydia and then cracked open his own. “My brother and his wife died in a car crash this fall. Parker lived on the other side of the state, but we were still close.”

  He had no living relatives now except for his nephew. His own mother had died of breast cancer when he was very young, and his father had passed after a heart attack two years ago. The Grim Reaper had been kicking him in the teeth lately, taking those he loved.

  Except for Teddy. And James would move heaven and earth to keep that little hellion happy and safe. Even if it meant giving up the boy to his maternal grandparents—an option he was investigating since his schedule didn’t allow the time the boy needed.

  “I can’t imagine how difficult that has been.” The concern in her voice, the empathy, was unmistakable. “Most of my brothers and sisters are still back home in Arkansas, but I check in with them often. Gail moved here with me to—start over. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for her.”

  He wondered why. Lured by curiosity about this beautiful woman, he almost sat back down beside her to continue their conversation. But a noise outside the office—the cadence of urgent voices speaking in low tones—distracted him from replying. He glanced toward the door that opened onto the clubhouse and saw the building’s administrative assistant speaking with one of the women who worked in the child care facility.

  A feeling of foreboding grew. He knew it couldn’t be the boy’s tree nut allergy acting up or they would have notified him. But what if Teddy had overstayed his welcome in the child care facility? James hadn’t been able to keep a nanny for more than two weeks with his nephew’s swings from shy and withdrawn to uncontrollable bouts of temper. James had no plan B if the TCC child care couldn’t take the toddler for at least part of the time. The boy’s only grandparents lived five hours away—too far for babysitting help.

  “Lydia, you needn’t worry about the donation,” he told his guest, the stress at the base of his spine ratcheting higher up his back. As compelling as he found his unexpected guest, he needed to end this meeting so he could see what was going on with the boy. “I’ve already taken care of the matter with the charity, and I’ll speak to your sister about it when she returns to Royal.”

  He remained standing, hoping his response would satisfy Lydia and send her on her way. Bad enough he’d felt an immediate attraction to the woman. But he was too strapped emotionally and mentally this week to figure out a creative solution to help her sister work off a debt that James had already paid.

  “Taken care of?” Lydia sounded wary. “What does that mean?”

  Tension throbbed in his temples. He would have never guessed that concerns about one tiny kid could consume a person day and night. But that’s exactly where he found himself right now, worrying about the boy around the clock, certain that his lack of consistent care was going to screw up the child Parker had been so proud of.

  “I paid off the bid myself,” James clarified while he watched the chi
ld care worker edge around the administrative assistant and bustle toward his office door.

  Damn it.

  “You can’t go in there,” the front desk secretary called after her, while James waited, tension vibrating through him.

  From behind him, Lydia Walker’s gasp was followed by the whispered words, “One hundred thousand dollars?”

  Damn it again.

  Pivoting toward Lydia, he already regretted his haste. But he needed to concentrate on whatever new crisis was developing.

  “That information is confidential, and stays between the two of us. I only shared it so you won’t worry about the bid anymore.”

  Standing, Lydia gaped at him. She shook her head, the warm streaks in her brown hair glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows behind her. “I’ll worry twice as much now. How can we ever hope to repay you?”

  He didn’t have time to answer before a childish cry filled the room.

  His nephew, little Teddy Harris, came barreling toward him with big crocodile tears running down both cheeks, his wispy baby curls bouncing with each jarring step. The two women stepped out of the boy’s way as he ran straight into James’s leg. Crushing the wool gabardine in damp baby hands, the boy let out a wail that all of Royal must have heard.

  With proof of his inadequacy as a stand-in parent clinging to his calf, James had never felt so powerless. Reaching down, he lifted his nephew in his arms to offer whatever comfort he could, knowing it wasn’t going to be enough. The toddler thrashed in his arms, his back arching, kicking with sock-clad feet.

  James had all he could do to hang on to the squirming kid let alone soothe him.

  Until, miraculously, the child stilled. The two women lingering at the threshold of his office door were both smiling as they watched. James had to crane his neck to see the boy’s expression since Teddy peered at something over his shoulder, tantrum forgotten.