Off Limits Lovers

by Reese Ryan

  Angela’s blue eyes quickly skimmed the document in search of the answer she so desperately needed.

  “There is no way the two of you are biologically related.” She squeezed her brother’s hand briefly, then turned her attention to Ryder. “I owe you quite the apology.”

  “Sounds like my cue to leave.” Roarke stood suddenly. Unlike his sister, who was elated by the news, Roarke seemed neither relieved nor disappointed by the paternity results. His expression was unreadable. “I have a few people to talk to about...a case I’m working on while I’m here.” He leaned down to kiss his sister’s cheek, then shook Ryder’s hand and left the shop.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” Angela said once they were alone at the table. “Sorry seems like such an inadequate word.”

  “Maybe start with the fact that you should’ve believed me when I told you I never laid a hand on your mother that way.” The muscles in his jaw tensed.

  As a young hand working for Angela’s wealthy grandfather, Harrington York, on what was now called the Perry Ranch, he’d had a boyish crush on her mother, Tamara. A woman ten years his senior. They were friends, but nothing had ever happened between them.

  Both hurt and anger flared in Ryder’s chest. He was aggrieved by Angela’s lack of trust. He cared for her deeply. More so than he’d cared for any woman since cancer had taken away his wife Elinah thirteen years ago.

  He’d met Elinah, his second wife, during a project in Kenya. And she’d been the love of his life. He was grateful for the years he’d had with Elinah. They’d had his middle child, Annabel, and adopted a second daughter, Maya. And they’d been incredibly happy together for a little more than a decade.

  But then his world had been shattered.

  Ryder had doubted he’d ever find love like that again. How could anyone even come close to what he’d felt for his late wife?

  But then he’d gotten to know Angela Perry as they kept running into each other at various events related to bringing the Texas Cattleman’s Club to Houston. And for the first time, he felt hopeful that finding love again was possible.

  They’d both been smitten enough to pursue the relationship, despite their last names being like oil and water.

  She was the daughter of his enemy. A man who’d wronged him at every turn for more than twenty-five years. By all accounts, he should have distrusted her, too.

  But Angela was nothing like Sterling Perry. And though her stunning beauty and generous spirit sometimes reminded him of Tamara, she was very much her own woman.

  A woman he’d suspected he was falling for. But her inability to trust him changed everything. What would happen when the next gossipmonger questioned their relationship? Then there was the reality that Sterling would constantly be in her ear, whispering innuendos and half-truths. Trying to turn her against him. Would Ryder have to dance on hot coals to prove himself every time the wind blew with some new accusation?

  “You’re right.” Angela lowered her voice as she placed her soft, warm hands on his and met his gaze. “You’re a good, honest man, Ryder. I should’ve accepted your word, but—”

  “But the great Sterling Perry believed the rumor, so you felt it must’ve been true.” His tone was mocking. Something he hadn’t intended.

  Angela sighed heavily. “Look, I know you don’t like him, but he’s my father. Given the history between you two—”

  A bitter laugh erupted from Ryder involuntarily as he recalled the ugly history between them. Angela’s grandfather, Harrington York, had been fond of him. Upon his death, York bequeathed a prime parcel of land to Ryder that turned out to be oil rich.

  Inheriting that land had changed the course of his life. He’d gone from a modest ranch hand to the wealthy owner of an extremely profitable oil company. But Sterling, insistent that he should’ve inherited the land and jealous of the friendship Ryder had with Tamara, had tried to dispute the will.

  It’d been nearly three decades since he’d inherited that land from Harrington York. And yet, Sterling still pulled every dirty trick he could to interfere with the success of Ryder’s company and to muddy his reputation.

  “I don’t blame you for thinking the worst of him,” Angela continued, bringing Ryder back to the moment. “But I know my father. He’d never knowingly confirm an awful rumor like this unless he was convinced you were Roarke’s biological father.”

  “I told him, time and again, just like I told you...nothing happened between me and Tamara. Not ever.” He slid his hands from beneath hers and rapped the table emphatically with his index finger. “I respected your mother. And though I didn’t like the man she chose to marry, I respected their marriage.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you.” She clasped her hands atop the table. After a few moments of silence, her eyes met his again. “So where does this leave us?”

  “I don’t know.” It pained him to say those words and to see the sadness it brought to her eyes. But he would always tell her the truth. “I need some time to figure that out.”

  “I understand.” Her gaze didn’t meet his as she fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. “I realize how angry you must be with me.”

  “I’m not angry,” Ryder corrected her with a shrug. “I’m just very...disappointed. But maybe this was the dose of reality we needed.”

  Her big blue eyes widened with panic. “Are you saying—”

  “I’m saying that I need time to think about the reality of our situation, and I think you do, too.” He leaned across the table and kissed her cheek, then left the coffee shop.

  Maybe lightning really did only strike once. And he should be content with his memories of the past.

  But as he walked away, all he could think of was how much he looked forward to speaking with Angela at the end of each day. How much he enjoyed her sharp wit, carefree humor and easy laugh. How much he wanted to be with only one woman. The one he had just walked away from.

  * * *

  Annabel paced the floor of her bedroom. Buoyed by Frankie’s positive reaction to her plans for Fairy Godmother, she was finally ready to tell her father about the purchase.

  Unlike her former fiancé, Mason, neither she nor her older brother, Xander, worked for Currin Oil. Xander worked the land and cared for the animals on Currin Ranch. Under her brother’s guidance, the ranch had become increasingly profitable. She’d stumbled into a career as a vlogger while she was in college.

  Despite her father’s wish that she, her brother and sister work for Currin Oil, he’d come to respect Xander’s career choice. But her family still didn’t consider what she did to be a viable career.

  Why couldn’t they respect that she, too, had chosen the path that was right for her?

  There was a knock at her door. Her father. She’d told him she needed to speak to him.

  “Hey, Dad.” Annabel opened her bedroom door and waved him in, a bright smile on her face.

  He forced a smile, but looked sullen.

  “Is everything okay, Dad?” She joined him in the little seating alcove near the window.

  Her father sighed heavily, then brought her up to speed on the accusation Sterling Perry had made that he was the biological father of the man’s youngest child. A son.

  “Roarke Perry,” she repeated the name. It seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

  “I wanted you to hear about it from me and to assure you it isn’t true. We even took a paternity test.” He extended an envelope to her.

  “I don’t need that.” She moved to sit beside him on the sofa. “If you say it isn’t true, I believe you. Period.”

  He draped an arm over her shoulder and planted a kiss on her head. “It means a lot that you’re willing to take me at my word, no questions asked.”

  “I assume that means Angela didn’t.”

  He sighed, but didn’t answer. />
  “I know that must’ve crushed your ego a bit, but from her perspective... God, the mere possibility of it being true must’ve been terrifying. Especially when she’s got the devil himself in her ear over there,” she added under her breath.

  “You’ve got a point there.” Her father chuckled. “But I don’t see that crotchety old bastard dropping dead anytime soon. So his influence will be an ongoing problem. One I’m not sure I want to deal with.”

  “Then I guess you have to decide if being with Angela is worth it.” She glanced up at him.

  “Who’s the parent here?” he teased. “I’m supposed to be the one dishing out the sage advice.”

  “Actually, there are some things I need to tell you.”

  “What is it, sweetheart?” He tensed.

  Annabel turned toward her father and took a deep breath. “The wedding is off.”

  “But the wedding is just a few weeks away.” His eyes widened and lines spanned his forehead. “Did you suddenly get cold feet?”

  “I didn’t.” She stood, pacing the floor. “Mason did.”

  Anger flared in her father’s eyes. “Why would he call off the wedding at this late hour?”

  Annabel sat in the chair facing her father and folded her legs, yoga-style. “You know that vote of confidence? I could really use one of those right now, Dad.”

  Her father sucked in a deep breath, as if preparing himself for impact. He nodded. “All right, Annabel. Let’s hear it.”

  “I purchased some property.”

  “You bought a house?”

  “No. I purchased commercial property for Fairy Godmother. An old salon and the building next door to it. The salon is the perfect space to do the makeovers, and the space next door will house a high-end vintage consignment shop.”

  “Annabel, you didn’t—”

  “I know you don’t see it as a viable business, Dad. And maybe you’re right. But I believe in this idea, and I’m going to try it.”

  “You’re as stubborn as your mother.” He smiled faintly and raked his fingers through his hair. “Especially when she believed she was right.”

  “Exactly.” Annabel relaxed a little. “This venture is very important to me. I get to touch people’s lives in truly amazing ways, and it makes me happy.”

  “I take it that Mason doesn’t see things that way.”

  “No.” Annabel shook her head. “And he’s not willing to compromise. Guess he didn’t get the memo. That’s what marriage is all about.”

  “I’ll have a little talk with Mason.” Her father stood, his features tense.

  “I appreciate the offer, Dad. But please don’t. It’s over.” She shrugged. “I’ll admit, I was hurt at first, but I’ve had some time to think about it. Mason and I want very different things from a relationship. This is what’s best for me. I’ll be fine.”

  “All right, pumpkin.” His forced smile made it obvious he was unconvinced that she didn’t need him. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “But if you need me for any reason, you know I’m here.”

  “I know. Thanks, Dad.” Annabel sank back onto her chair and watched her father leave.

  Annabel worried her lower lip with her teeth as she twisted the large engagement ring on her slim finger. Her relationship with Mason had ended so abruptly, she’d barely had time to allow her new reality to register.

  She was no longer getting married. A fact that she was surprisingly calm about. Perhaps even relieved.

  Annabel slid the ring from her finger and put it in her jewelry chest. She’d return it to Mason. She had no doubt the jeweler would take it back.

  But what about her?

  The floor-length champagne-colored designer bridal gown with countless glittering crystals embedded in the organza overlay of the gown had cost nearly fifty thousand dollars. There was the expensive custom wedding band she’d purchased for Mason and all of the money for the reception hall.

  Her father had sunk a small fortune into this wedding. And Mason had called the wedding off on a whim in what was essentially a tantrum.

  Annabel felt better by the minute about not marrying Mason. But there was no way he was going to just call off the wedding and then walk away scot-free, leaving her family to foot the astronomical bill.

  Not if she had anything to say about it.

  She plopped on her chair again, turned on the television and scanned the channels. A commercial for Farrah’s came on. Annabel smiled thinking of the rich, creamy lemon icebox pie that was her favorite. And of the handsome stranger she’d encountered there earlier that day.

  Annabel shrugged off the memory of the man’s sexy smile and the penetrating gaze he’d leveled at her, his eyes an intriguing shade of blue.

  She was ending one misguided relationship and starting a new brick-and-mortar business on top of the vlog. Another entanglement was the last thing in the world she needed.

  But there was no harm in daydreaming about it.

  Four

  Roarke stood by the bar, sipping scotch and soda as he scanned the historic Crystal Ballroom located in the Rice Hotel in downtown Houston. The venue dated back to 1913 and had soaring thirty-five-foot ceilings, beautiful mahogany French doors and an elegant lobby with gorgeous crystal chandeliers. They’d been there less than an hour and he already had a collection of lipstick imprints on the side of his face, courtesy of older women he hadn’t seen since he was in high school.

  “Here’s where you’ve been hiding.” Angela stood beside him. “Tired of little old ladies kissing your cheek and telling you what a big boy you are now?”

  “Very funny, sis.” Roarke scrubbed at his face with a damp bar napkin. “I agreed to be your plus-one for tonight. I didn’t agree to make out with every retirement-age woman in the room.”

  “But you’re so good at it, little brother.” Angela was clearly amused. “Seriously, thank you for coming. Esme, Melinda and Tatiana all had plans tonight.”

  Tatiana Havery had been one of Angela’s best friends for as long as he could remember.

  Angela thanked the bartender for her apple martini. She sipped it. “Mmm... That’s good.”

  “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  Roarke’s attention jolted to the source of the familiar voice. He’d only heard it once, but he’d never forget it.

  “Lemon icebox pie,” Roarke said as his gaze met her warm brown eyes. Eyes he hadn’t been able to forget since he’d seen them in Farrah’s Coffee Shop a few days ago.

  “Two pies,” she responded with a tip of her chin. Her smile lit up the entire room. A smile he could easily get lost in. She turned to his sister. “Angela, it’s good to see you.”

  “Wait... You two know each other?” Roarke’s gaze shifted between the two women.

  Something in his sister’s demeanor changed when the woman from the coffee shop approached. She smiled uneasily as she introduced them. “Roarke, this is Annabel Currin. Annabel, this is my brother, Roarke Perry.”

  Those big brown eyes widened. “You’re Roarke Perry?”

  “Guilty.” He held up his scotch and soda.

  The mystery woman was Ryder Currin’s daughter. That explained his sister’s reaction.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Annabel. You look beautiful.” Angela fidgeted with her bag. “How’s your father doing?”

  “He’s hurt,” the woman said pointedly, but her tone and expression softened slightly. “And miserable. He really misses you.”

  A look of relief passed over his sister’s face and the corners of her eyes looked wet. “Please tell him that I miss him, too.”

  “No way. I’m not the messenger girl.” Annabel’s tone was kind but firm. “If you want him to know, you’re going to have to tell him yourself. You know where to find him.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Angela nodded, then
walked away.

  “Angela,” the young woman called. “Please do.”

  His sister smiled, then disappeared into the crowd.

  “ID, please, miss,” the bartender said.

  Annabel frowned and produced her driver’s license from her handbag.

  The bartender nodded, then slid the apple martini toward her.

  She picked it up and took a sip. “That is good.”

  Roarke scanned the woman. She was gorgeous in a floor-length blue gown that reminded him of something a Greek goddess would wear. Athena, Artemis or perhaps Aphrodite.

  The smooth creamy skin of her back and shoulders gleamed, highlighted with a dusting of glitter that augmented her ethereal beauty. The peekaboo feature at the front of her dress exposed a little of her midriff.

  Roarke glanced again at her left hand. The huge rock she’d been sporting a few days earlier was notably absent.

  One corner of Annabel’s mouth curled in a grin as she took another sip of her martini. She leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know if you know this, Two Pies, but you’re staring. It’s frowned upon in polite society.”

  “Is Two Pies my official rap name?” Roarke straightened his tie, trying his best to mask his amusement.

  She laughed, setting her glass on the bar. “I thought it sounded better than Not-My-Brother.”

  “Oh, so Ryder told you about that, huh?” Roarke signaled for another scotch and soda.

  “My dad tries to be as open and honest as he can be with everyone in his life.” Her statement implied that his father didn’t operate that way. She’d get no argument from him. “Besides, we’re not kids anymore. He wanted me and my siblings to be armed with the truth, should we be confronted with the accusation. He offered to show me the paternity test, but I didn’t need to see it. I know my father.”

  “That’s how I feel about my mother.” He accepted the scotch and soda. “So I didn’t believe it, either.”

  “Well, here’s to not being siblings.” She raised her glass, clinking it with his. “Because that would make this very awkward.”

  Before he could ask what she meant, she’d pressed a hand to his chest, lifted onto her toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips.