Lone Star Seduction (Texas Cattlemans Club: Maverick County Millionaire Book 6)

by Day Leclaire

  God help him, but she was beautiful, especially when angry. She glared at him with those witch-green eyes. The deep, lustrous red of her hair spilled around her face, emphasizing the creaminess of her skin and underscoring the flush that rode the sweeping arch of her aristocratic cheekbones.

  “If you’ll show me to my room?” she asked in her best lady-of-the-manor voice. “I’d like to unpack before I start dinner.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said in his driest tone. “This way.”

  He headed for the back of the sizable ranch house. Near the kitchen, he opened the door to the suite of rooms that had belonged to his former housekeeper. He carried her suitcases through to the bedroom and set them on the floor near the bed. He glanced up in time to see an odd look on her face.

  “What?” he asked warily.

  “This can’t possibly be the housekeeper’s quarters,” she said.

  “That’s exactly what they are.”

  Her expression turned unreadable as she walked through the pair of bedrooms, each with its own bath, and then into the generous-size living area. When she finished, she looked at him with eyes gone dark with pain. “These rooms weren’t at El Diablo before you moved in, were they?”

  “No.”

  “You had them built specifically with a housekeeper and…and whatever family she might have in mind.” She didn’t wait for his confirmation. “This is because of Huntington Manor.”

  He flashed back on the single room that her father had grudgingly split in two so that he, his mother and sister wouldn’t all have to share a single bedroom. There’d also been a living area, but it had been so tiny there’d barely been space for one, let alone two teenagers and their exhausted mother.

  It hadn’t taken long to figure out that the only reason Huntington had accommodated them with even that much was to avoid any whisper of gossip. Image was everything with Sebastian Huntington. Image. Reputation. Appearances. It wouldn’t do to have someone accuse him of mistreating the hired help, particularly since Alex’s mother had cleaned most of the homes in Somerset at one point or another and was well-liked by all. But that didn’t change the fact that the spaciousness of Huntington Manor stopped short at the servants’ quarters.

  Another flush swept across her face, this one deeper than before and having nothing whatsoever to do with passion. “I’m sorry, Alex,” she said. “I’m sorry for what my father did to you and to your sister because of our affair. But I’m most sorry for what he did to Carmen. It was wrong.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m surprised you’re not defending him, or at the very least offering a string of excuses. Isn’t that part of your role as his daughter?”

  She sighed, revealing a hint of weariness. “Not in this case.”

  Now that he looked closer, he could see the exhaustion in the paleness of her skin. Dark smudges underscored her eyes, intensifying the color. It gave her a vulnerability that made him long to take her in his arms again. But he didn’t dare. Not here. Not when her father’s actions still stood between them.

  “Take the night to get situated. You can start work in the morning.”

  Her shoulders straightened and her spine snapped into an unrelenting line. “That’s not necessary. Just tell me what you want.”

  He took a single step in her direction. “You already know what I want.”

  Alarm flared for a brief instant before a hint of humor replaced it. “I’ll be happy to check in the refrigerator, but I can say with some degree of confidence that that particular item isn’t on tonight’s menu.”

  “Put it on the menu,” he advised. “Soon.”

  He exited the room before he put it there for her. He forced himself to keep walking, to stride out of his home and return to the barn. Once there, he’d put in another solid hour or so of hard physical labor. Maybe then he’d be too exhausted to think about what awaited him back at El Diablo and what he’d like to do to and with her when he returned. His mouth compressed. Who was he kidding?

  He’d never be that exhausted.

  The evening rapidly went from hideous to total nightmare in the space of two short hours.

  Rebecca stood in the monstrous kitchen of El Diablo and faced facts. The few cooking skills Carmen had taught her during her teen years had totally deserted her. Lack of practice, no doubt. She’d aimed to serve Alex a simple but filling dinner of Texas-size steak, charbroiled on the outside and still mooing when sliced. A large salad. Baked potato. And homegrown beans with almond slivers. The only part of what ended up hitting the table that remotely resembled her game plan was the salad.

  The steak hadn’t been charbroiled, but crispy-crittered. The potato was stone-cold in the middle, and hard as a rock. And the beans were great alps of green mush with almond chunks clinging to the mountaintop like jaw-breaking boulders. Alex had taken one look, closed his eyes and muttered a prayer beneath his breath before digging in. Five minutes later, she noticed that he’d added a generous serving of whiskey to the menu to help wash the mess down.

  Rebecca surveyed the endless stack of dishes still to be scoured and fought an overwhelming urge to weep. Enough of that! She’d chosen to do this and she’d succeed no matter how difficult. She refused to quit. She refused to back down. And she absolutely, positively refused to fall into any bed but her own.

  Searching through the various drawers and cupboards, she located an apron and rubber gloves and set to work. She’d check with Alex once she finished and get a list of the chores his previous housekeeper had covered. In order to get them all done and still arrive at her shop by nine in time to open the doors, she’d have to get up early. Very early.

  She was just loading the final dish into the dishwasher when Alex appeared in the doorway. “Thanks for the meal,” he offered.

  She sighed. “That’s generous of you, all things considered.” She turned to face him and tugged off gloves. “Do you have a minute to give me a list of my duties?”

  “Won’t take even a minute. Clean the house. Keep up with the laundry. Fix breakfast and dinner. Don’t worry about lunch. I usually eat out.”

  “I assume you also need me to do the grocery shopping?” When he hesitated, she planted her hands on her hips. “Did my predecessor do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “Becca—”

  “Please, Alex,” she whispered. “I have to try. Give me a chance.”

  The mouth she’d taken such delight in kissing compressed into a hard line. “You know as well as I do that you can’t do an adequate job around here and still run Sweet Nothings. It’s too much for one person.”

  “I can manage until I get the debt paid off.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Do you have any idea how long that’s going to take?” he demanded. “We’re not talking about a few weeks or months. We’re talking about years.”

  “Not necessarily. The shop provides an excellent income. You should be able to get a decent amount for my car. It may be used, but it’s been gently used.”

  “You’re living in a fool’s paradise, Rebecca. You won’t be able to keep up this pace for a month, let alone years. Face facts.”

  Rebecca struggled to regain her footing. Maybe she’d have a better shot at it if she weren’t so tired she could barely see straight. “You think I haven’t? You think I don’t know how much we owe you?” Struggling for control, she pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat as carefully as though the least careless movement would shatter her. She moistened her lips before continuing. “I’m not quite the fool you take me for, Alex.”

  He studied her warily. “What do you mean?”

  “I realize that if you hadn’t agreed to use Sweet Nothings as collateral that you’d now own Huntington Manor.” She waved a quick hand through the air. “You, or someone other than my father. Someone like Rodriquez. Dad would have been forced to sell in order to cover his debts and lawyer fees.”

  “Probably.”

&nb
sp; “It could still happen,” she whispered. “Couldn’t it?”

  He started to reply, then broke off with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Alex?” she pressed.

  “Let’s just say this mess is far from over.” His expression was more grim than she’d ever seen it. “Until it is, stay away from Rodriquez, Becca,” he ordered. “If he contacts you, refer him to me, and then call me immediately.”

  “Is my father in danger?”

  “Madre de Dios!” Alex forked his fingers through his hair. “Paulo is dangerous to you, Becca. That’s all that should concern you. Your father made his bed. Let him learn to sleep in it.”

  “Is that the attitude you’d take if our situation was reversed and Carmen was the one at risk?” she dared to ask.

  He made a valiant effort to control his temper, which impressed the hell out of Rebecca. “As I’ve pointed out before, that’s not a fair comparison and you know it. First, my mother would never have put herself in the position your father is in. There were times when she couldn’t put sufficient food on the table, but she never resorted to stealing so much as a penny from any of the fine mansions she cleaned, even though they could well afford it and would never have missed the odd bits and pieces that would have made the difference between filling our bellies and going hungry.”

  “Oh, Alex,” she whispered, her heart breaking for him.

  His head reared back. “I’m not asking for your pity,” he said in a cutting voice. “I merely state fact.”

  “Let’s say that your mother had borrowed money from Rodriquez to tide you over, and was then unable to repay it. You’d have stepped in before he could harm her.” There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. “How is what I’m doing any different?”

  He crossed the room in a half dozen swift strides and plucked her from her chair. “The difference is that your father is well able to look after himself, even if he now chooses to hide behind your skirts. The difference is that my mother was a kind, loving, humble woman, while your father is an arrogant bastard who thinks he can do whatever he pleases without taking responsibility for his actions or suffering the consequences for them.”

  She wished with all her heart that she could deny any one of his points, but she couldn’t. As much as she loved her father, she wasn’t blind to his faults. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t stick by him and do her best to help him out of his current predicament. The full enormity of the task pressed down on her like a crippling weight. Paying back the TCC—or rather, Alex—had seemed tough enough. But now that he’d explained about Paulo Rodriquez…

  “Enough,” Alex announced. “It’s clear that you’re at the end of your rope, and I won’t have people saying that I’m responsible for driving you into the ground.”

  She started to wave that aside, letting out a gasp of surprise when he swung her into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen and into her private quarters. He didn’t pause, continuing straight through to the bedroom. There, he dumped her onto the mattress and cupped the back of one ankle, and then the other, in order to slip her shoes from her feet.

  “I can undress myself,” she informed him with a dry smile. It was either that or weep. “I’ve been doing it for more than two decades.”

  “And here I thought you had servants to take care of that, as well as grant your every other whim.”

  “Funny.” She pointed toward the door. “I believe I’ve made it clear where my duties end. And it’s on the other side of that door.”

  He continued to hold her ankle for a long moment. His fingers drifted over the narrow bones, teasing the sensitive skin until she shuddered with the effort to control her reaction. To her profound relief, he didn’t seem aware of how close she came to tugging him down on top of her and allowing desire to overrule common sense.

  “A pity.” Alex released her ankle and stepped back. He paused halfway to the door and glanced over his shoulder. “You will remember to call me if Rodriquez contacts you in any way?”

  It wasn’t worth arguing about, not when every instinct she possessed urged her to do just that. “I promise.”

  “Sleep well.” His mouth tugged to one side. “God knows, I won’t.”

  Seven

  The next week proved one of the most stressful Rebecca had ever experienced. Exhaustion dogged her every step. It wasn’t just getting up at four each morning in order to take care of her housekeeping duties before racing into town to open Sweet Nothings. She hadn’t taken into consideration the sheer manual labor involved in keeping a mansion the size of El Diablo in pristine condition.

  Well, if she looked at the bright side of things, she could cancel her gym membership. Her daily workouts there were nothing compared to what she received cleaning and dusting the endless rooms that comprised Alex’s home. She just had to give herself time to adjust. And she needed time to learn the most efficient way to clean.

  Until this week, she’d never considered her shop a place to rest and relax. But now she treasured every precious hour she spent there, especially knowing what awaited her back at El Diablo. It wasn’t that she minded the physical aspects of the work, despite how exhausting they were. It was the quiet forbearance with which Alex regarded her efforts.

  He ate her under-over-badly cooked food with a stoic air. He didn’t complain when she bleached the color out of his shirts or tinted unexpected color into them. He didn’t do more than sigh when his boots stuck to the polish she’d spent hours applying to his wooden floor. But with each incident, she felt less and less capable and more and more as though she were taking advantage of him. He shouldn’t be paying her. She should be paying him for all the damage she’d inflicted on him and his home.

  Rebecca forced herself to her feet with a heartfelt sigh and proceeded to unload the latest shipment of lace and silk delicacies. Though the beginning of the week had been as busy as ever, the past few days business had slacked off. She suspected the recent cold snap was in part to blame. Who wanted to purchase silk lingerie when the weather screamed for fleece?

  Behind her, the bell tinkled merrily and a customer wandered in, someone Rebecca vaguely recognized from high school. “It’s Mary Beth, isn’t it?” She greeted the woman with a friendly smile and gestured toward the section of the store she’d just finished organizing. “The items on the rack beside you are just in. In fact, you’re the first to see them.”

  “Probably the last, too,” she said in a cool voice.

  Rebecca stared in confusion. Maybe if she hadn’t been so tired, she’d have caught on sooner. Instead, she offered a puzzled look. “Excuse me?”

  “Business a bit slow?” Mary Beth ran careless fingers over the latest shipment, knocking several of the garments off their padded hangers. “It’s only going to get slower now that all of Somerset knows the truth about you mighty Huntingtons. Who’s going to want to buy sleazy underwear from someone like you?”

  Rebecca froze. “I don’t know what—”

  Mary Beth cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, please. It’s all over town. Your father. You working for Montoya.” She made annoying little air quotes around the word “working.” “And won’t we all just have the biggest laugh while we watch you tumble off your pedestal.” She gave the store a dismissive look. “Enjoy your Sweet Nothings. Without customers, that’s precisely what this place will be. Nothing.”

  She swung toward the exit, just as the door opened. A man standing there ran an appreciative glance over Mary Beth. “Señora,” he murmured, flashing a brilliant, white grin at her.

  She returned the look with interest, then stepped into the November chill. Rebecca could only pray that she didn’t appear as shell-shocked as she felt. Gathering her self-control, she offered the new customer her most professional smile. Now that she looked at him, he seemed vaguely familiar, as well. Dread swamped her. With luck, he’d prove to be a legitimate customer and not some curiosity seeker reacting to the rumors that had apparently begun circulating about her and her fa
ther.

  “May I help you?” she asked warily.

  His mouth curved upward in an oddly satisfied smile. “In more ways than you can count,” he murmured in a lightly accented voice. Aware that his comment had thrown her, he gestured toward the interior of the store. “I’m looking for something special. For my future wife,” he clarified.

  “I can help you with that.”

  “I’m sure you can.”

  His comment caused a visceral reaction she couldn’t explain, but one that sent warning alarms clamoring. She did her best to conceal her concern and moved toward the front of the store, rather than the back. “Could you give me some idea what you’re looking for?”

  He gave it a moment’s consideration. “A nightgown. For our wedding night.”

  “And your fiancée’s coloring?”

  A slow smile lit his face, one that didn’t quite reach his hard, black eyes. “Why, she’s a redhead, like you.”

  Okay, she knew when someone was playing games with her. And this guy was definitely a player. And then it hit her where she’d seen him before. It had been a brief glimpse several months ago. He’d been talking to her father, the two in a rather heated discussion. When she’d asked her father about the incident, he’d brushed it aside. Now the incident took on greater significance. If she were a betting woman, she’d lay odds this was the infamous Paulo Rodriquez, which could only mean one thing.

  Trouble.

  As casually as she could, she picked up her cell phone from the counter by the register and bounced it from hand to hand in what she hoped appeared to be a restless, unconscious habit.

  “Hmm. Well, black always looks—” She blinked, as though in surprise. “Hang on. My phone is vibrating. Damn. It’s Alex. If I don’t take this…” She broke off with an irritated shrug.

  Before he could react, she flipped it open and hit the 1 key assigned to automatically dial Kate’s cell. At the next opportunity, she was going to program Alex’s private number into her phone. To her profound relief, her friend picked up almost immediately. “Yeah, Bec. What’s up?”