The Tycoon and the Texan (21 page)

The flight from Niagara Falls to Texas had been long and uncomfortable for Nick, but not as unpleasant as the mess he had made of his relationship with McCall. The worst part was he hadn't even known it was happening.

A half dozen telephone calls gave him no hint of her whereabouts. If Josie knew, she wasn't telling. She suddenly knew little about anything, not even his mother's schedule. The lack of knowledge about where McCall had gone only confirmed his suspicions. She would have retreated to the only place that gave her comfort . . . Texas.

No wonder Mother thought him inept at taking care of matters of the heart. For the first time in his life, he had found something he wanted more than anything. McCall had changed him in ways he never thought possible. Hell, he had had nary a sip of Ambassador Twenty-Five for days, but had chug-a-lugged enough Lone Star longnecks to have a vested interest in the brewery. He'd learned the Cotton-Eyed Joe, fell in love with Texas, and had been literally hooked by the feisty Texan.

But now he was afraid McCall was as unattainable as the jar of stars he had wanted to give her back on the beach.

Nick pulled the rental car to the side of the road and stared into the sunset, then turned his attention to the great house. The oil derrick towered over the grounds like a sentry. Lights flooded the yard. He could almost smell Lola Ruth's sweet, fried pies and taste her stout coffee.

If McCall were half the woman he knew she was, she would accept his explanation about the Triple J. But why had she kept her involvement a secret? She had hinted when they were at the ranch that she felt comfortable, almost as if a familiar feeling had overcame her, but he'd blown it off. Looking back, he realized he shouldn't have. The answer . . . she didn't know. That was the only reason. She was much too honest to play him a fool. He knew her and loved her for that very reason. He had to make it okay and hated that he had jumped to conclusions about her reasons for not divulging her involvement with the ranch.

She had certainly told him on more than one occasion that neither she nor her mother thought her father had made an investment, but if he had it would have been in the oil and gas industry, which made total sense to Nick as he thought through the whole issue. There was no reason for either of them to think her father was involved with the Triple J.

If he was a smart man, maybe Nick should turn around and head back to California and put the spitfire, with the eyes of an angel, and the whole Johnson fiasco out of his mind. But then, he had never been known for being all that smart when it came to his heart. Not to mention he loved McCall and wouldn't let her go so easily . . . and he wanted that damn ranch for
them
not just him.

Nick started the engine and as quietly as possible parked behind Granny's weathered, mangy F-150 pickup that had obviously seen its odometer turn zero more than once.

A shadow moved near the corral. A tall, lanky, yet beautiful and sexy, Texan held tight to a post and rested her booted foot on the lower railing.

Quiet as a prairie dog, Nick walked toward her. Easing up behind McCall, he shuffled a foot so as not to scare her. She never moved, only clung to the post as though it were a life preserver.

Cicadas droned.

Frogs croaked.

Horses neighed.

Hearts pounded.

“What do you want, Nick?” Her words were weak, yet silky.

“We need to talk.”

She never looked up, just said, “Why is it that every time you get your back to the wall your only solution is to want to talk?” Not waiting for his response, she continued. “I think our lawyers have already done the talking for us.”

He took her shoulders and turned her around to face him.

She twisted away. “Haven't you done enough? I trusted you, and then you used me like this—”

“I used you!” He wheeled around to stare at her, trying not to let his frustrations show. “Used you—” He stopped and calculated his words. “All you had to do was tell me you owned an interest in the Triple J.”

“I didn't know until yesterday.” Her tone was relatively civil in spite of her obvious fury.

“Yesterday? Why didn't you tell me then?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Remember, right before we had sex—”

“Made love,” Nick corrected.

“I told you that I had something to tell you. A surprise? Then again this morning when I told you I'd planned a special dinner and a surprise. But I guess I was the one that got surprised. Sued, that is.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Jeez! Do you believe I would have let my lawyers start litigation if I'd known you were the owner? Honestly?”

“I—” She shook her head. “Not really.”

“Why would I need to trick you into selling me the ranch? As far as I knew, you were desperate for money. All I would have had to do was ask you to sell it to me. It would have been a simple business transaction.”

“Exactly, Nick. If I'd known you wanted it and knew I owned the dang thing, I would have moved heaven and hell to give it to you.” She took a deep breath. “But you have full ownership now. I told my lawyer to draw up settlement papers. All I want is whatever money my father invested.” She looked him squarely in the eyes. “All I ever wanted was to have someone love me,
for me,
not for money, but for me. I thought I'd found him—”

“You did. I love you, McCall.” Nick caught her by the arm and gently pulled her toward him. “Knowing how happy you were at the Triple J, I told my attorney to do whatever was necessary to get it for you . . .
for us
. I didn't know you were involved until after I saw the fax.”

“You did? But, Nick, once I saw the papers, I instructed my lawyer to go ahead and let you have the ranch. If it was that important to you, I love you too much to stand in your way.”

“You still love me?” He offered a mischievous smile. “McCall, I have another question.” He dropped to one knee and took her hand. “If I promise to steer clear of trouble, will you try to teach me the Texas thing for the rest of our lives?” He pulled a ring from his pocket and slid it on her finger.

McCall pulled him to his feet. “Yes!” She threw her arms around his neck. “Yes, Nick, I'll still marry you, but—”

“Why am I not surprised that you have to add a
but
?” He smiled down at her.

“But you promise you won't come near a stove, and I'll do all the cooking.”

He nodded in agreement. “And I'll do the fishing.”

“And you'll keep your opinion to yourself about the table decorations at your mother's next fund-raiser. And you'll stop coming up with those whim-whams you're so famous for.”

“All of them?” He deliberately twisted his lips into a pout.

“Well, maybe you can do one every now and again.”

“Two?”

“Don't push your luck.” She chided then smiled. “Okay, two.”

He pulled her into his arms. “And, we are both through with jumping to conclusions. So, who do we tell first?”

“Granny,” they said in unison.

As though on cue, Granny's voice bore through the evening like a sudden thunderclap. “McCall Elise Johnson! I want you in here right now!”

“And you too, Nicodemus Beauregard Dartmouth!” Each word was punctuated with Madeline's best boarding-school English.

“Mother!” Nick exclaimed. “What is she doing here?”

“Beauregard?” McCall shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't know, then marched toward the house. “You must be kidding. Beauregard?” She laughed out loud.

“It's better than her first choice. Archibald!” Nick stalked behind.

McCall slowed down and Nick caught up. When he got close enough, he grabbed her by the waist and spun her to him. She slipped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him, whispering, “I think we're about to face our first challenge as a couple. Stick together?”

He quirked an eyebrow.

She raised her arm and met his palm with a high five.

The two entered the kitchen as though being called before a disciplinary board. Nick skidded to a stop.

Madeline Elliott-Dartmouth and Granny Johnson sat at the kitchen table looking as though they had just returned from a weeklong cattle drive.

He wasn't sure but thought he smelled something resembling what he'd raked off his boots. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

Madeline propped her elbows on the table, something he'd never seen her do before. She exchanged looks with her son.

“Nicky, darling, I understand we have a problem.” She popped a stuffed jalapeno into her mouth. “You should try these. And those.” She motioned to a plate of calf fries. “Since you've given everyone else permission to call you Nicky, I presume I can also.”

“You never answered me, Mother. What are you doing here? You look like—”

“What? Like I just came off the range?” Not waiting for a reply, she continued. “McCall's grandmother showed me all around their lovely ranch.”

“Tell me why you're here. And why you're dressed like Annie Oakley.” He shrugged at McCall and turned back to two pair of eyes scrutinizing his every move. “What in the hell is going on?”

McCall leaned against the cabinet and studied Nick's reaction before speaking. “Can't you see? Your mother isn't Annie Oakley, she's Superman and has come to save the day.” McCall folded her arms across her chest and a bemused smile took over.

Nick shook his head and faced his mother. “This is none of your business, Mother. Stay out of it. McCall and I can work out our problems without your interference. You don't have to control everything and everybody.”

It was Granny's turn to speak. She pulled all four feet ten inches from her chair and caught Nick's stunned look with eyes that blazed in anger. He half expected her to lay her sidearm on the table.

“Watch your mouth, young man. That's your mother you're talking to. We are having a family intervention. That's what,” she said in a steely Texas twang.

“We're not all one family, Granny,” McCall said.

“Not yet we aren't, but if we have anything to do with it, we will be,” Granny barked.

“Oh, Jeez!” Nick ran his hands through his hair.

Madeline followed Granny's example by standing and slapping her hands on her hips. “Nico . . . Nicky, I think we need some privacy to talk.”

“No!” Nick snapped without thinking. “I want McCall to hear whatever you have to say. There will be no more secrets between us.” He raised an eyebrow at McCall, who winked back. He continued. “Because I've asked her to—”

“Marry you,” Madeline finished.

Granny nodded in agreement.

“Guess you both have taken up spying,” interjected McCall with a smile kissing the corner of her mouth.

“Just looking out of the curtains was all,” Granny stated. “Can't help what we see.”

“Okay, Nick, if you want McCall to know everything.” Maddi wiped her hands on a napkin. “First, neither one of you knew about the other's part in the Triple J transaction. It wasn't until your lawyer called that I knew anything about it. If you'd taken my calls this could have been avoided.” She gave Nick the look she always gave him when she was truly irritated with him. “And before you ask. When McCall called to resign, I saw the caller ID was in Texas, since she didn't use her cell phone. Once I got here, it was easy to find the ranch, since everybody in Kasota Springs knows where the ranch headquarters are. I presumed you were here.”

Nick rolled his eyes at her.

“By the way, you owe me for airfare from LAX to Amarillo, since you had the jet.” She rubbed her rump. “Anyway, when I got here, Mrs. Johnson and I were able to talk and the facts came out.”

“You and Mrs. Johnson have been conniving behind our backs?” Nick asked, only to have Granny Johnson shoot him a reprimand similar to the one she had given Colton at breakfast only a few days before. “I thought Josie was your only partner in crime.”

“We had to do something. You have loved McCall for a long time. You two belong together. Josie and I worked too hard to make sure it happened—”

“So you rigged the auction.” Nick said with cool disapproval. “I should have known when you allowed McCall to wear Grandmother's diamond necklace. But to rig—”

“That's a bit harsh, darling. There was no duplicity. We simply had to, let's just say, encourage McCall to participate and make sure you won her and not that Anson fellow. You can't trust an actor—”

“I thought he was a model,” Nick interjected.

Mrs. Dartmouth glared at her son. “A model. An actor. What's the difference? I paid him the same.”

“So you hired Anson?” McCall entered the fracas. “I can't believe it. You staged everything, Madeline.”

“I admit it, but he was a, you know . . .” Madeline turned to Nick. “By the way, don't forget that you owe the foundation another twenty-one thousand dollars.” She shrugged her shoulders and waved her hand through the air. “Now, the two of us”—she motioned toward Granny—“don't plan to let you throw away what we've all worked so hard to make happen because of a little spat.”

“You manipulated this relationship just like you did mine and Lauren's.” Happiness and frustration mingled in Nick's heart.

“Since you insist on bringing
her
up, it's time you know the truth. You want McCall to know everything, then everything she will know.” Maddi rounded the kitchen table with Granny as her backup. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid on a roll.