The Tycoon and the Texan (9 page)

“And, you don't want to save me now?”

“Mac, I want you so bad it hurts, but I don't think you're ready for that type of commitment.” Nick ran his hands through his hair then took a long audible breath. “You need to be courted.”

“Courted? That sounds so old-fashioned.”

“I'm just an old-fashioned guy. Anything wrong with that?”

McCall slid off the quilt, crawled over to Nick, and kneeled before him. “Not a thing. I've never been courted.” She scooped his face up with her hands. “I want you to romance me. What comes first, Slugger? A kiss?”

And he kissed her. A slow, sincere kiss that rushed through her like a wildfire.

Nick finally released her. “Technically, you are now off the hook for the date.”

“Technically, maybe I don't want to be.”

“I need to tell you something that might make you change your mind. I gave the thirty-thousand dollars to Mother's foundation as a donation and never planned to buy a date. You or anyone else. I certainly didn't plan to bid on Buffy—or whatever her name is—Armstrong. I was ordering a drink. So, the way I see it, in fairness, although I paid an extra twenty-one thousand for a
weeklong
date, I should let you off the hook—”

“Whoa, Slugger! Weeklong? I thought—”

“I figured you didn't hear the final bid because of the uproar in the crowd, but I outbid Mr. Testosterone with three thousand dollars a night for seven nights. If I hadn't, you'd be spending the night with that, that—”

“Mr. Testosterone, huh? That's what you called him?” She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Then you ended up paying fifty-one thousand dollars for a date?” She raised both eyebrows as her eyes grew wide. “The original thirty thousand donation, plus three thousand dollars a night? Hypothetically, would you really pay that much? Even for a good cause like the foundation?”

“Yes, and I'd pay that much again over, if it'd stop our catfights, give us a chance to really get to know one another, and see where our feelings are headed.”

“Then it's a done deal, Slugger. I have a week off, thanks to your mother. All I have to do is make arrangements for someone to deliver my Meals on Wheels and I'm all yours.”

“But, I don't have a week off. I didn't read you all of Stanley's note. After we left the boat, he got a call and I have to go up the coast on business by tomorrow. I'm sorry. It sure as hell would have helped if I had known before the
Belle Poule Princess
sailed, but without any telephone reception on the island, there was no way for him to let me know except with the note. It's partly my fault, since I told him I didn't want us to be disturbed for any reason. In the morning, once we're picked up, the captain has to take me over to the Santa Barbara harbor, so I can get my car that Stanley's driving there for me. He can take you back to LA then. Unless you want to—”

“Want to what?”

“Go with me. It's only up to the Bay Area, although I have to make a couple quick stops in the Santa Ynez Valley.”

“All I have is a shirt and shorts back on the boat.”

“Not that you aren't appealing in that bikini, but . . .”

In a wisp of time, they struck an agreement to sail to Santa Barbara, make an impromptu shopping trek to pick up some clothes and various necessities, and she'd accompany him on the trip.

“McCall, I want to show you that my world isn't all that different from yours, so decide where you want to go. When my business is finished, we'll go there. To Hearst Castle, Winchester Mansion, Lake Tahoe, Vegas. You name it, and it's yours.”

“Even go where it's raining and the sun is shining?” she teased.

“And where we can walk to a foreign country? Sure.”

“Ever spent any time in Texas?” She slid her arms around his neck.

“Nope, but I think I'm about to.” He pulled her tight to his chest.

McCall nuzzled against his corded neck. “Nick, I'm through fighting, but I'm not ready to be your lover. Or anyone else's.”

“I'm not asking you to. Just open up your heart and look inside. See if there's room there for me. I'm finished with making demands on you. Next time, it'll be on your terms, but I'm warning you, I won't call uncle again.” He thumped the tip of her nose lightly. “Understand?”

“Understood.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “No more secrets between us?”

“Promise. No more secrets.”

Nick eased his sleek, red Jag convertible along the Pacific Coast Highway in the Santa Ynez Valley. As the sun perched overhead, they topped a hill leading into Lompoc.

McCall let out an audible gasp. “The fields are beautiful.”

“I told you that I was going to take the scenic route and the little extra time would be worth it. Now was I right or not?”

Multicolored fields of zinnias, sweet peas, petunias, and a purple blossom he didn't recognize carpeted the vale and swept upward on the hillside. Row after row of grapevines stood at attention in the adjacent vineyards.

“Oh yes. I've seen the strawberry fields around LA, but this is nothing in comparison. I've heard of the flower fields, but I never imagined them to be this beautiful.” A smile lightened her face. She turned toward Nick. “And I've never seen a sexier man in all my born days. The way the wind is whipping your hair backwards is kinda like the way the ocean breeze did yesterday. And of course being a Texan, any man in Levi's and boots sets my heart fluttering.” An easy smile played at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh shucks, ma'am, you're gonna make me blush.” He smiled back at her. “Is that the way they say it in Texas?”

“It'll work.”

“When do I get to wear that there Stetson you made me buy?” He motioned toward the backseat with his head.

“Whenever you don't want to chase it for two miles when it blows off.” She laughed in a loving way. “Or drive with one hand holding it on and the other on the wheel.” Quickly she added, “But I'm enjoying riding with the top down.”

Nick knew one thing—if the wind would blow off a ball cap on the open road, he wasn't about to try a cowboy hat to see if there was a difference. No doubt she thought he'd never worn a Stetson, or ridden a horse either, but he'd just keep that knowledge to himself. She seemed relaxed and enjoying herself, so he didn't want to do anything that would mess it up.

He settled back and enjoyed the faint smell of her perfume mingled with the scents of freshly cultivated fields and strawberries wafting in the air.

“I wish we'd had time to locate a thrift store. Hopefully, I didn't max out my credit card, but I had no choice but to purchase a few things or go home.” McCall pushed a strand of stray hair that had escaped the Scunci that tied her tumbled curls behind her head.

“You had a choice. I offered to pay, but since your stubbornness wouldn't allow me the pleasure, I'll just have to see that you get a raise to make up for it.” Nick sped up to pass a slower moving vehicle.

“No, you won't do anything of the sort. If I get a raise, it'll be because I've worked hard and deserve one, not because you told your mother to give me one. Understand?”

“Understood, but—”

“No buts about it.” McCall turned her attention to the roadside.

Nick changed the subject, knowing his efforts were futile. “I hope you kept that cute little black number.”

Just the thought of how sensual and exciting she looked twirling around in the slinky gown made him hard in a very delicate place. He shifted his weight to his left hip in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure hugging the zipper of his Levis.

“Yes, but where are we going that requires such a nice dress?”

“I'd planned to surprise you. I made reservations at the Venetian Ballroom of the Fairmont in San Francisco.” He twisted again pulling at the leg of his Levi's to loosen their grip. He needed something to draw his attention away from his discomfort. “The flowers are pretty, aren't they?”

“Absolutely beautiful.” She shot him a flirtatious smile. “Almost as dazzling as what I've heard about the ballroom.”

“I think you'll enjoy it. The plants along here are used for seeds and cut flowers. Big business.” He needed a distraction in the worse way. “Along with lettuce. Lots of lettuce. Tons of lettuce. The blue-green fields are cabbage, and, as you know, the ones covered with plastic are strawberries. And horses, lots of horse ranches around here.” Nick swallowed. He knew he was rambling, but he had to do something to take his mind off the ache that had forcefully turned into old-fashioned pain below his waist.

He kept his eyes peeled on the winding road. His mind galloped somewhat like the sorrel trotting along the stark-white fence line.

He'd like to give McCall a whole pasture of thoroughbreds, if that was what she wanted.

The knot in Nick's stomach tightened. He fought off his desire to think about the future. One with McCall. He couldn't fall in love with the Texan, but it might already be too late.

If he found himself in love, there would be consequences. His mother would never allow it because she thought every woman he dated was a gold-digger, particularly his ex-fiancée Lauren DePaul. And, she was certainly more affluent and had a tougher shell than McCall.

From the start, Madeline had voiced her disapproval of Lauren. He never should have proposed knowing how his mother felt. He thought he'd eventually win her over. No luck. So, the mini-nuptials ended when Lauren walked out of their engagement party leaving Nick standing with a champagne glass in his hand and a toast on his lips.

Lauren's explanation—he should marry his mother!

Madeline's explanation—Lauren needed a Botox detox program, preferably in San Quentin.

Nick suspected that McCall had heard about his engagement fiasco, but was lady enough not to participate in the gossip. However, he felt sure she didn't know the sordid details.

But as his and McCall's delicate relationship seemed to take on a life of its own, he could take comfort knowing his mother liked McCall. She certainly trusted her, as shown by allowing her to wear a family heirloom necklace. Even taking it home with her. Maddi also seemed to be protective of her, as a mother would nurture her child. Surely, as an employee, not as her son's girlfriend . . . of her daughter-in-law.

Damnation!
He had gone from thinking of her as a friend, to a girlfriend, to a lover, and now a wife! That kind of thinking could scare a man, especially one who didn't care to be left standing alone at another engagement party.

Nick wanted to protect the feisty Texan, yet he might be placing her in a position that could potentially hurt her more than anything he could have ever done.

Damn it, he didn't need this distraction. He had a ball team to keep on the road, a construction business to run, that damnable foundation to preside over, and a cussed mother to deal with, not to mention a horse ranch to buy. He couldn't allow McCall to get a stronger grip on his heart, and certainly didn't want to put someone he cared about through the Elliott-Dartmouth scrutiny.

A concerto of chimes called from his iPhone. Seeing who the caller was and not wanting to ruin the moment for McCall, he pulled to the side of the road and answered the phone instead of using the Bluetooth speakers. He touched the pad accepting the call. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Yes, Mother. What can I do for you?”

Glancing toward McCall and seeing her absorbed with the Dodgers' extra-inning game on the radio, he lowered his voice and got out of the car, then walked out of hearing distance. “Damn it, can't I spend a night away from my house without having to report in like I'm still in high school?” He shifted weight to his other hip knowing his mother would issue a severe rebuttal for his coarseness.

Cutting his eyes toward his traveling companion, he watched McCall grab her cell phone as the song “Deep in the Heart of Texas” sounded as a ringtone.

He stepped closer to the car, but continued his own conversation. “Yes, Mother, I'm listening.” The truth was he barely heard Madeline while he lent his other ear to McCall's conversation.

Satisfied her call wasn't bad news, he returned his full attention to his mother. Lowering his voice, he said, “Mother, I'm on the way to the ranch, if I ever get off the phone.” His gaze never left McCall's face, as he watched her frown deepen. “Remember? You sent me on a vacation to change my attitude. Talk to you later.”

Nick disconnected, followed by McCall.

“Madeline.” Nick announced. Starting the engine, he revved it up in frustration.

“Josie.” McCall frowned and tossed her phone in her purse.

Absorbed in their private thoughts only the breeze disturbed the silence.

Nearing a highway exit, Nick drew her attention back to the scenery. “Look off the road this side of the mountain. That's our next stop, the Triple J Horse Ranch.”

“It's gorgeous—so green and those wonderful trees. I love the white fence that seems to go on forever. In the Texas Panhandle, we use mostly barbed wire for the pastures. But some parts of Texas use the white fencing, too.”

“I like it here. It smells clean, fresh, like newly mown hay. I could spend the rest of my life here.”

“And leave LA?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“You never can tell. They build things up this way, too.”

“Not anything you specialize in.”

“If I can construct high-rise buildings, guess I could do fine with low-rise.” He laughed, and took a right turn.

“You'd also have more time to spend on your pet project.”

“I presume you mean Habitat for Humanity.”

McCall nodded. “Yes. It's a worthy cause. I've always been amazed how many of your men volunteer.

“I give them an incentive. Double time and an extra week of paid vacation does the trick.”

 

Waist-high red geraniums and towering pampas grass with showy alabaster feathery plumes guarding the rock entrance to the ranch came into view. A tunnel of ancient Italian stone pines joined overhead and guided them toward the sprawling ranch house and mammoth stables.

McCall gasped at the sight. A chilly shiver ran the length of her spine. “I feel like I've been here before . . . but I haven't, unless it was when I was a child.”

“I thought you were raised in Texas.”

“I was, but vaguely remember coming out to California on vacation, but I can't recall where we went. You know that funny feeling you get when you think you've already done something?”

“Everyone has them. There's some explanation about how your unconscious mind works, but it's nothing but a boggling déjà vu in my opinion.”

The sleek Jaguar passed the main house and rolled to a stop in front of the first of several stables.

A tall drink of water wearing weathered snakeskin boots and a well-worn Stetson ambled in their direction as Nick unfolded from the car and grabbed his new black Stetson.

“Nick Dartmouth as I live and breathe.” The lanky man pulled Nick into a hug as if he were a child's teddy bear. “Ain't you a sight for sore eyes?”

Nick returned the embrace. “Good to see you, ol' man.”

“Who you callin' old? And who's this pretty little filly with you?” The gentleman turned to greet McCall.

“McCall, meet Jock Macmurphy, the most cantankerous sidewinder you'll ever meet. There isn't a bronc he can't handle.”

“I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Macmurphy.” McCall offered her hand to the grizzled old man, who pumped her arm as though drawing water from a well.

“Everybody just calls me Mac, so I reckon you oughta, too. Name's McCall, right?”

“Yes, sir. McCall Johnson. But I have a question. Won't we get the Mac's mixed up, unless I call you Jock?” A mischievous smile spread across her face.

“Nobody will get an old geezer like me mixed up with a pretty filly like you.” He ran the length of his bushy mustache between his fingers. “Name sounds familiar. You ain't one of those movie stars up in Hollywood, are you?”

“Thanks for the compliment, but I work for the Elliott-Dartmouth Foundation.”

“Oh yeah, Miz Maddi's mission to keep us old relics up and going on our own. So, folks call you Mac, too?”

“Only two people, and one is standing right here.” She motioned toward Nick. “The other was my daddy, but he died a few years back.”

“Sorry to hear that, ma'am.” The ranch foreman and managing partner turned to Nick. “I figured you'd be coming up this way as soon as you heard—”

Nick interrupted. “McCall is eyeing that strawberry roan over there, and I bet she's just itching to ride him,” Nick interrupted.

“Oh Nick, I haven't ridden for a long time—”

“Missy, it's like a bicycle.” It was Jock's turn to interrupt. “Once you've done it you're not likely to forget. If 'n you want to take him out for some exercise, I'll get the kid in the stable to saddle him for you.”

“Do we have time?” She grabbed Nick's arm and leveled a hopeful glint at him.

He nodded his approval, enjoying the warmth in her touch. “We'll make the time.”

“Thanks.” McCall smiled at Nick, but addressed Jock. “I can saddle him myself.”

“All the tack is there. Holler if you need anything,” Jock said. “He's spirited, but an easy one to handle if you're gentle with him.”

She patted Nick's arm. “Thanks. Nick, want to come along?”

“Not this time. Enjoy your ride. We have to leave in time to get over Harris Grade before the fog sets in. Jock and I have plenty of uh . . .” Nick hesitated and tried to corral his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to lie. “Uh, catching up to do.”

“I won't be long. I hope he enjoys the exercise as much as I know I will.” McCall smiled and strolled off toward the stable.

“I bet Asteroid will like having her on his back, too.” Jock wagged a bushy eyebrow.