Sheltered by the Millionaire (6 page)

BOOK: Sheltered by the Millionaire
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“Sounds like Whit is really bending over backwards to mend fences with you.”

Megan crossed her arms over her chest that still yearned for the press of Whit’s body against hers. “As you said, we all need to do what’s best for the community right now.”

“Sure, and sometimes it’s personal.” Standing, Beth said, gently, “Like now.”

“I never even implied—”

“You don’t have to. You’re blushing!” Beth pointed, her nails short and neat. She stepped closer and whispered, “What happened while you were in Colorado? Come on. I tell you everything. Spill!”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Sadly. Megan had wanted more and still didn’t know why he’d pulled away. “My daughter was with me. How about we discuss your love life? Yours definitely has more traction than mine. How are things with you and Drew Farrell? Have you set a date?”

“Weeellll, a Valentine’s wedding would be nice, but we’ll see.” She set aside her mug with a contented sigh. “For now, we’re enjoying being together and in love. Repairs are still going on at my house. Once they’re done, we’ll decide if I’m going to sell or stay at Drew’s.”

“How’s Stormy?”

Beth had adopted a cocker spaniel mix from the shelter, similar to her dog Gus that had died. Stormy had stolen Beth’s heart when she’d volunteered after the tornado. “Full of mischief and a total delight.”

“And the cats?” She stalled for time.

When Drew first dropped Beth off at the shelter after the storm to help Megan with cleanup, Megan encouraged Drew to take a couple of cats home with him. He’d insisted he was allergic to cats, but Megan could tell he and Beth were both enchanted. Since the kittens had come from a feral litter, placing them would have proved difficult at a time when they were already packed. Megan had mentioned the possibility of him needing barn cats—and it was a match made in heaven.

“They spend more time indoors than in the barn. Drew pops a couple of antihistamines and watches ball games with them in his lap.” Home-and-hearth bliss radiated from her smile. “It’s adorable.”

Megan didn’t begrudge Beth that joy, but God, it stung today of all days. “I’m happy for you both. For Stormy and the cats too. Thank you for taking them.”

“Our pleasure.”

Hearing how easily Beth said “our,” Megan couldn’t help but ask, “You and Drew were enemies for so long. How did you overcome that negative history so easily?”

“Who said it was easy?”

“Oh, but—”

Beth rested a hand on hers. “It’s worth the effort.” She sat back with a sigh. “I’m still in the ‘pinch me’ stage with this relationship. It’s everything I didn’t dare to dream of growing up.”

Beth was a jeans-and-cotton-shirts kind of girl, with a causal elegance she didn’t seem to realize she had. If anything, she was a little insecure in spite of all her success, sensitive about her past and the whole notion of having grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.

Megan gave Beth an impulsive hug. “It’s real.” She leaned back with a smile. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I’m so happy for you, my friend.”

“Thank you.” Beth hugged Megan back. “By the way, I noticed you dodged answering my question about Whit. I only ask because I care. I want you to be happy. You deserve to have more in your life than work.”

“I have my daughter.” Megan sat at the table set up for people to fill out adoption applications, the Thanksgiving holiday suddenly looming large and lonely ahead of her.

Beth walked to the table and sat in the chair across from her. “And when Evie grows up?”

“Then you and I can have this talk again.” She fidgeted with a pen, spinning it in a pinwheel on the table.

Beth’s eyes turned sad. “I’ll respect your need for privacy.” Standing again, she started to return to the front desk, then looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, in case you wanted to tell the Cattleman’s Club thank-you in person, this weekend they’re having a big cleanup in preparation for Christmas decorating.”

* * *

Whit couldn’t remember having a crummier Thanksgiving. Thank God it was finally over and he could spend the weekend helping out at the club with cleanup and decorating.

His invitation to spend Thanksgiving with Megan and her daughter had been impulsive—he’d originally just planned to send some flowers as part of his gradual pursuit. So he’d been surprised at the level of disappointment when she’d turned him down for dinner. That frustration had gathered steam with each day he waited and she didn’t return his calls.

His catered turkey meal had tasted like cardboard. He’d ended up donating the lot to a homeless shelter. There had been invitations from his buddies in the Cattleman’s Club to join them and their families for the holiday, but he hadn’t felt up to pretending. No doubt part of his bad mood could be chalked up to the memorial service planned for Craig next week.

He just wasn’t up to being everyone’s pal today, either, but he’d promised to help and so many of them had chipped in to volunteer at the shelter. This club was the closest thing to family he had.

Launched by some of the most powerful men in town, the Texas Cattleman’s Club had stood proud in Royal, Texas for more than a century. The TCC worked hard to help out in the community while also being a great place for members to get away from it all and to make contacts.

To be invited into the TCC was a privilege and a life-long commitment. And for a man who’d grown up as rootless as he had, that word—commitment—was something he didn’t take lightly.

He climbed a ladder to hook lights along a towering tree outside the main building, an old-world men’s club built around 1910. The tree was taller than the rambling single-story building constructed of dark stone and wood with a tall slate roof. Part of that roof had been damaged by the tornado, as were some of the outbuildings.

Looking in through the wide windows, he could see other club members and their families decorating the main area, which had dark wood floors, big, leather-upholstered furniture and super-high ceilings. TCC president Gil Addison was leading a contingent carrying in the massive live tree to be used inside.

What would Megan think of all the hunting trophies on the wall? He’d never thought to consider her feeling on that subject given her work in animal rescue. But he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t a deal breaker.

He hooked his elbow on the top of the ladder, looking out over the stable, pool, tennis courts and a recently added playground. Evie would love this place. He could almost envision her in her tiara, fitting right in with the rest of the kids. Except a person had to be a member to have full use of the facilities.

How had he gotten to the point in his mind where he was envisioning Evie and Megan here?

“Whit?”

A voice from below tugged his attention back to the present.

He looked down to find one of his pals from the Dallas branch of the TCC, Aaron Nichols, partner in R&N Builders. Aaron had been overseeing the repairs to the club, but didn’t appear to be in any more of a merrymaking mood than Whit was. But then given the fact Aaron had lost both his wife and his kid in a car accident several years ago, Whit could see how holidays must be particularly tough.

Which made him a first-class ass for feeling sorry for himself over being alone for Thanksgiving.

Whit hooked the lights along the top of the tree, wrapping and draping. “Hey, buddy, what can I do for you?”

Aaron handed up more lights, controlling the strand as it unrolled. “Just here to help. Shoot the breeze. Everyone’s asking about you inside.”

“Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta take care of the tree out here.” That had always been Craig Richardson’s job.

Aaron nodded with an understanding that didn’t have to be voiced. “Have fun on your big rescue mission?”

As if Whit hadn’t been asked that question a million times already. Folks had expected him to bring Megan today. He’d entertained that notion himself while in Colorado, but she’d shut him down.

“We helped place a lot of cats, eased the burden on the shelter. It was a good day.” He kept the answer brief and changed the subject. “Thanks for the cleanup at the shelter last weekend.” Whit hooked the light over a branch. “I appreciate so many of you pitching in.”

“We help our own,” Aaron said with a military crispness he hadn’t lost in spite of getting out of the service. “We would have gone sooner if we’d realized how tough things were at the shelter.”

And Megan wasn’t one to ask for help easily. He admired her independent spirit, her grit, the way she fought for her daughter and the animals. He just hadn’t realized how much he would flat-out enjoy being with her too.

He hauled his attention back to the present rather than daydreaming like a lovesick teenager. “Everyone’s been up to their necks in repairs. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell where to start.”

As he reached for Aaron to feed him more lights, Whit caught a glimpse of a car approaching with a woman at the wheel.

There was a time when women weren’t allowed at the club unless they were accompanied by a male member. But a few years ago the TCC had started allowing women to join, a huge bone of contention that caused great friction in the organization.

Now, however, almost ten percent of its members were females. Two years ago they’d added an on-site day-care center, which had created even greater discord. But this year, things had finally begun to settle down and feel normal for the TCC members. Watching everyone pull together today, Whit could see there was a real sense of camaraderie the club hadn’t experienced in a long time.

So a woman coming to the club on her own wasn’t a surprise or big deal. Except this woman had unmistakably red hair. Whit knew her from gut instinct alone, if not sight. His pulse sped up and he decided that this time, he wouldn’t just bide his time. He’d known and wanted her for years. Aaron Nichols’s presence had served to remind him how fast second chances could be taken away.

Whit tossed aside the strand of lights, leaving them tangled in the tree branches for now, and climbed down the ladder. Because he’d found the perfect distraction to lift his holiday mood and make him feel less like Scrooge.

Megan Maguire had come to the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

Six

M
egan told herself she was not coming to the Cattleman’s Club to see Whit. Absolutely
not
.

Holding a Tupperware container full of homemade brownies, she exited her new-used compact purchased after the tornado took out her other car and hip-bumped the door closed.

Evie had wanted to bake on Thanksgiving so they would be like a real family. Real? The comment had sent Megan into a frenetic Betty Crocker tailspin that produced dozens of brownies.

She was proud of the life she’d built, damn it. She was an independent woman with a satisfying career and a great kid.

This morning hadn’t been very easy though. Evie had thrown a screaming fit over the thought of wearing regular clothes to a playdate with Miss Abigail’s great nieces. The counseling videos and books recommended by the preschool director just weren’t working with Evie. Finally, Megan had surrendered to the request for a homemade costume made out of cut up sheets. In the big-picture view of things, it was most important that Evie wanted to play with other kids again without her mom present. But Megan had had to draw the line somewhere. When Evie had wanted to be a zombie, Megan suggested she be a mummy instead. Somehow a mummy princess seemed more benign than a zombie princess. What four-year-old knew about zombies?

Megan adjusted her hold on the container of brownies and picked her way around the big trucks and SUVs in the parking lot. Halfway to the looming lodge, as she was passing a golf cart loaded down with fresh evergreen boughs and spools of red ribbon, she felt as if she was being watched. She tracked the sensation to a towering pine tree with a ladder beside it. Whit stood at the base, his boot on the bottom rung, Stetson tipped back on his head.

Of course she’d known he would be here today.

But she didn’t know what she would say to him. At all. She’d been off-kilter this week, questioning herself. She’d spent all of Thanksgiving imagining what it would have been like to share the day with him. Had he been alone on the holiday because of her decision?

His offer to spend the day together had intrigued her the more she thought about it. But it also had her reliving their kiss in Colorado. Had she really thought she could just sleep with him for one night and then walk away? This was a small town. They would run into each other.

Often.

That was good motivation to tread warily, because if things exploded between them, there could be lasting fallout. Not just the upheaval it would cause for Evie to lose a male figure in her life, but Megan also had to think of her job and how a big blow-up between her and Whit could make living in this town together awkward. She had to put Evie first and her daughter was happy here.

“Hey, hello, Megan,” a female voice called out from a row of cars over.

Megan turned to see Stella Daniels waving as she got in her sedan to leave. The administrative assistant from the mayor’s office had become an unexpected hero after town hall had taken a direct hit in the tornado. With Mayor Richard Vance still in the hospital, Stella was serving as the unofficial leader of Royal, giving interviews to the major networks and making heartfelt pleas for federal aid. Her quiet calm was just what the town needed in a crisis.

Megan could use some of that calm for herself.

Waving back, she smiled, then grappled to keep the plastic container from tumbling out of her arms. Stella ducked into her car; the organized woman was likely headed back to the office or off to inspect more cleanup efforts, even on the weekend.

Megan balanced the brownies again, turning back to the ladder only to find Whit gone. But it wasn’t more than a second before Whit’s broad hands came into view, sliding underneath the container.

“Can I help you with that?” he asked, his broad flannel-clad shoulders angling beside hers, their elbows bumping lightly as he shifted to help.

“Thank you. I brought these to thank the club for all their hard work at the shelter.” She handed the three dozen turtle brownies to Whit.

“That’s what we do.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Right, Aaron?”

Startled, she looked past Whit, surprised she hadn’t even noticed Aaron Nichols was there as well. Just as she hadn’t noticed Stella until the woman had called out. Megan had been one hundred percent focused on speaking to Whit. She’d seen that easy smile too many times in her dreams. Remembered the feel of his touch on her waist. Her hips...

Aaron clapped a hand on Whit’s shoulder. “We can finish up later.” He tipped his head to Megan. “Good to see you, Megan. Be sure this bozo doesn’t keep all the brownies for himself. See you inside.” He pivoted away and went into the lodge.

And then Megan was alone with Whit for the first time since before Thanksgiving. She searched for something to say to fill the awkward silence, finally asking, “What was Stella Daniels doing here?”

She tried not to let her gaze roam all over Whit. No easy task, that.

“She came to ask for help out at town hall. They’re still plowing through debris and there’s concern about lost files.”

“If anyone can restore order in the chaos, Stella can.” The town was lucky to have someone so competent leading recovery efforts during such a tumultuous time. “She’s done some great work in organizing reconstruction during the mayor’s recovery.”

Mayor Vance had suffered massive injuries while working out of the town hall when the tornado hit. Stella seemed unsure of herself at times, but she was proactive in rounding up help where it was needed. And the Cattleman’s Club was definitely the place to check, full of powerful movers and shakers in the community.

“The club is all in to do what we can.” Whit’s molten brown eyes held her for another long instant, making her skin tingle. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

She swallowed hard, thinking about how she’d been too much of a coward to return his calls. “Evie and I had a feast of chicken nuggets and sweet potato fries, then made turkey paintings using our handprints. The front of my refrigerator is full of artwork.” She paused for an instant before asking, “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Lonely,” he said simply, without even a hint of self-pity, more like a statement of fact.

Surprise kicked through her, quickly followed by guilt that he’d spent the day alone after reaching out to her. “You didn’t spend the day with friends?”

“They have families, like you do.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “But hey, it wasn’t a total wash. I watched ball games and ate a catered meal.”

The Whit she’d spent time with recently, the Whit who was standing here with her now, didn’t fit the image of the man she’d known for over three years. She wasn’t sure what to make of him now. She’d been so sure he was a wealthy, ruthless charmer.

Maybe he really was just a nice guy who wanted to be with her. What the hell was wrong with her that she’d been upset because the man had acted like a gentleman and didn’t jump all over her during their trip? “I’m sorry you spent the day alone. After all you did for the shelter it was small of me not to include you in my Thanksgiving.”

“I didn’t want you to include me in your holiday out of gratitude.” He looked past her, trees rustling overhead. “Where’s Evie today?”

“Playing with Miss Abigail’s great nieces.” She took the brownies back from him under the guise of securing the lid but really to occupy her jittery hands. It had been Evie’s idea to give the extra brownies to Whit, but Megan had been wary of showing up on his doorstep. Bringing baked goods to the whole Club offered her a face-saving option.

A smile played with his mouth, a sexy mouth that kissed like sin. “What’s our princess dressed as today?”

Our?
Had he noticed the slip of the tongue?

“She wanted to be a zombie, but I thought that was a little dark for a kid that young. We opted for a mummy, like ‘Monster Mash.’”

“Good call.” He frowned, his hand tucking under the brim of his Stetson to scratch his head before he settled the hat back into place. “She’s still having a tough time?”

“I’ve talked to the day-care director about it. Sue Ellen suggested some videos and books with tips on how to promote discussion with a child after a traumatic experience. I have the name of a counselor too.” She swallowed hard. “I hope we won’t need to use it. I figured I would give her another week to ease back into a routine. Hopefully she’ll get excited about Christmas celebrations at school.”

“Hopefully,” he echoed.

She should go. She reached and opened the container, releasing the intoxicating scent of chocolate. “Would you like an advance sampling of the brownies as an olive branch? Well, a chocolate kind of olive branch?”

She took one out to offer it.

He leaned in to bite off a corner of the brownie while she still held it. “Hmmm...” He hummed his appreciation as he chewed. “Damn, these are good.”

His praise warmed her on a chilly day. “I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from a man who can afford to eat at the best of the best restaurants.”

“The cooking service I use has never brought anything as good as this.” He popped the rest of the brownie in his mouth and reached for another.

“Over-the-top flattery.” She scrunched her nose and set the container aside on the golf cart. “That can’t be true.”

“Sure it is.” His smile was as bright as the dappled sunlight in the tree branches. “A cooking service is a luxury, but it’s a necessity for me unless I want to eat at a restaurant every night, which I do not. I get to kick back in front of my television at night like a normal guy.”

“A normal guy with a cooking service.” She toyed with a strand of lights dangling off the cart.

“A cooking service I may have to fire since apparently they have been feeding me substandard brownies.”

Damn it. How could she not like a guy who said things like that? She couldn’t hide a smile.

“Evie and I will make some more just for you to thank you for the flight.” The offer fell from her mouth before she could overthink it.

“I should say no, given how busy you are. But I’m going to be utterly selfish and accept.” He finished off the second brownie.

“It’s the least I can do after all your help. And you were so patient with Evie last weekend.”

“That’s a good thing. So why are you frowning?”

And there was the crux of things, her real reason for coming here with the brownies when she knew she would run into Whit. “My daughter is hungry for a father figure in her life. I just don’t want her to build false hopes based on some nice gestures from you.”

“Is that why you turned down my request to spend Thanksgiving together?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, in part,” she said carefully.

“You gotta know I think she’s a great kid and I enjoy her company as well.”

Yet another reason to like Whit. His affection for Evie was genuine.

Megan sagged back against a fat oak tree, bark rough even through her thick sweater and jeans. “She’s a kid in a fragile state of mind. I’m not...comfortable risking anything upsetting her.”

“Okay, okay....” Exhaling hard, he pressed a hand to the tree trunk, just above her head. “I can see where you’re coming from on that, given the tiara and tornado-butt-kicking costumes.”

“I’m glad you understand my predicament. I’m her mother. I have to put her needs first.”

“You’re a great mom too, from everything I’ve seen.” His head angled closer. “I have to wonder though. Why did you kiss me in the hotel? Call me arrogant, but I wasn’t mistaken in thinking you’re interested....” He stroked her loose hair back over her shoulder. “Unless you were using me as a one-night stand. In which case you should be upfront about that. I’m not passing judgment. Just asking for honesty.”

His touch sent a shiver down her spine. “Point taken.”

“Exactly.” His hand glided down to her shoulder blade, his fingers tangled in her hair.

Thank heaven everyone was inside, though the possibility that someone could catch sight of them through a window helped keep her in check. And heaven knew she needed all the help she could get to restrain her from throwing herself at him again. Her daughter’s well-being had to be first and foremost in her mind.

“Whit, I’m just asking you not to use her to get to me. She’s a little kid who still believes in fairy tales where princesses can always win in the end.”

“What about her mom?” He cupped the back of her neck, massaging lightly. “What does
she
believe in?”

His question stunned her silent for three heartbeats. “What does that matter?”

“Because, honest to God, I want to get to know you better.”

His words filled the space between them with so much hope and possibility, she was scared as hell to step out on that ledge and risk a big fall.

So she settled for sarcasm. “You want to sleep with me.”

“True enough.” He eased his hand around to palm her cheek, caressing with his thumb. “Can you deny you’re attracted to me?”

“Your ego is not your most attractive quality.”

He chuckled softly. “What is, then?”

“Searching for compliments?” She tipped her chin. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

He ducked his head. “Megan, I’m searching for a way to get through to you, because make no mistake, I want to spend more time with you. A lot more. I always have.” His words and eyes were filled with sincerity. “I was able to keep my distance when I thought the feeling wasn’t mutual. But now that I know you’re attracted to me too? I’m all in.”

Her breath hitched in her chest. “What does that mean?” Nerves made her edgy.

“A regular date, dinner with me.”

Dinner scared her a lot more than the notion of no-strings sex. “I can’t leave Evie alone and she can’t stay out that late.”

“What time does she go to sleep?”

She chewed her bottom lip, already seeing where he was going with this. “At eight.”

“Then how about getting a sitter and we go out after she falls asleep.”

“And this gossipy small town we live in?”

“There are plenty of places other than Royal to find dinner. We can get to know each other better talking during the drive.”

She hesitated, wanting to agree but unable to push the words past her lips.

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