Texas Millionaire

by Dixie Browning

  “Why are you so sad?”

  He missed a beat. “Why am I what?”

  “Sad. Sort of deep-down, where it only shows in your eyes. Has something tragic happened? I know it’s none of my business, but if there’s anything I can do, I’m real good with people. All us Rileys are like that.” She frowned. “Well, not all, but I could talk to her if it’s a woman, and when it’s a man, it usually is. Does that make sense?”

  He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t, but don’t let it bother you.”

  “Is it?”

  “Is it what?”

  “A woman.”

  He gave a sigh that hinted more of exasperation than of sadness. “Look, my wife left me, we’re divorced, there’s no other woman in my life because I neither need nor want a woman in my life. Does that satisfy you?”

  Fortunately the music ended before she could disgrace herself any further. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I think I might be a teensy bit drunk.”

  Her mysterious partner grunted and led her back to the table, leaving her to wonder if she could sneak out of town before she disgraced herself any further.

  Maybe if she’d splurged on a pair of glass slippers instead of wearing her tan pumps, hoping they wouldn’t show, she could’ve got through the evening without shaming the entire Riley clan.

  Susan had left. She glanced at the brunette in pink, who leaned toward her and whispered loudly, “God, I hate being a charity case, don’t you?”

  “Is that what we are?” Callie, in a slightly befuddled bit of reasoning, was trying hard to convince herself that she was here in an official capacity, to do whatever it was secretaries did under these circumstances. And even if she didn’t take a single note, she was pretty sure she wasn’t a charity case.

  The two men came together in an alcove at the far end of the ballroom, where the air was fresher and even marginally cooler. “Where’d you go?” Hank asked Sterling Churchill, a friend of long-standing.

  “Danced with your lady. I thought that’s where you were headed.”

  “I was, but I saw Tooley’s wife and thought I’d pay my respects.”

  “Another mercy mission?”

  “Yeah, I guess. She’d be a damned sight better off if she’d dump that turkey, but some women don’t know when they’re well off.”

  “You really set the cat among the pigeons with your new lady. She’s not your usual type, man.”

  “She’s not my lady, I don’t have a usual type and yeah, I heard a few things, too. Why do you think I’ve gone out of my way all night to draw off enemy fire?”

  “I wouldn’t leave her unguarded too much longer, if I were you. She’s been hitting the bottle pretty hard.”

  “Callie? No way.”

  “Are you tied up after this shindig is over? Because Greg’s lined up a meeting with Forrest to go over logistics. Blake’s still out of touch, but Greg says he’s with us all the way.”

  “It’s going to be late,” Hank warned. He glanced at his watch.

  “Early’s more like it. Might as well get into training. Feels pretty damn good to be going on a mission again after so many years, doesn’t it?”

  Hank knew what he meant. “Yeah, it does. I just hope we haven’t lost the edge.”

  After arranging to meet later, he made his way at a leisurely pace across the room, pausing to speak to the women who intercepted him, but moving on again after a few words. He honestly hadn’t intended to leave Callie on her own this long, but in a roomful of several hundred people, most of whom he’d known all his life, it was hard to take two steps without being stopped. By the time he heard the rumors and speculation running through the younger set, he figured his best bet was to keep a low profile and deflect attention where Callie was concerned.

  Hitting the hard stuff?

  Churchill had to be crazy. If she’d had a drinking problem, Manie would have mentioned it. She probably needed some fresh air. So did he, come to think of it. He was getting so he dreaded those things more every year. Maybe he’d break with tradition next year and do something different to raise money for charity, such as a rodeo. Maybe a horse race.

  Hell, why not bring in a three-ring circus, it couldn’t be any more of a rat race than the annual Cattleman’s Club Ball.

  Pausing beside a table, he looked around, puzzled. He could’ve sworn this was where he’d left her.

  “Callie?” He glanced around. She was gone. He didn’t take the remark about her drinking seriously. Not Callie. Not Miss Manie’s little girl, no way. She was probably dancing. Having herself a ball, he hoped, feeling a slight twinge of guilt.

  He took the time to survey the dance floor. Not seeing her there, he hurried upstairs, half expecting to find her curled up in one of the wing chairs. She wasn’t there, either. Her sweater and purse were gone from the closet, but there was a scrap of paper placed neatly on Manie’s desk, anchored with a glass paperweight.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening. I called a cab. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

  Was she being sarcastic?

  The truth was, he couldn’t be sure. For all she looked so straightforward, he was beginning to think there was more to Callie Riley than met the eye.

  Lowering himself into one of the chintz-covered chairs, he absently stroked his throbbing leg. He’d danced more tonight than he had all year, and not once with the lady he’d brought to the ball.

  Flowers. He’d send her a floral apology tomorrow, he promised himself, and then remembered that that was the sort of thing Manie had always done for him. He could hardly ask the girl to send herself a bouquet.

  Five

  He couldn’t believe he was doing this. With less than three hours sleep last night, and with a schedule that would floor an ox, Henry Harrison Langley, III, was waiting, hat in hand so to speak, for a twenty-two-year-old woman to finish watering her plants on a Sunday morning at half past nine.

  “I’m sorry it took so long, but Aunt Manie has a different set of instructions for each side of the house, and she’s bound to ask if I watered this morning.”

  “You watered so you wouldn’t have to lie about it?”

  “I watered because I said I would.”

  “And you always keep your promises.” It was a statement, not a question. He’d called first thing this morning to be sure she didn’t sneak out of town without him. She’d been frying chicken when he called.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I know. Your mature car would get you there just as well, but you see, I’ve got this thing about looking out for the health and welfare of my employees.”

  “I’m only a temporary. Temps don’t count.”

  “I was talking about Manie. What’s all this stuff by the door? Does it all go?” He indicated a napkin-covered basket and paper sack with a familiar looking bottle neck sticking out.

  “That’s a bottle of wine from last night. Mouse said I could take one. Aunt Manie likes sweet wines, but we thought since she had to miss the party, she might like to share some champagne with her friend.”

  “So you got to meet this friend of hers?”

  “No, actually I didn’t. Aunt Manie said Marion had a meeting and so she sent her driver instead. It was a real comfortable-looking car, and the driver knew Aunt Manie—he was real sweet about helping her with her suitcase and all, so I guess it’s all right.”

  “Hmm. And the basket?”

  “I told you I fried a chicken. Aunt Manie likes it done real crisp and dark brown, and you can’t get it like that most places. I got up early so I could make German potato salad, too.”

  They had fried chicken and potato salad in Texas. Best in the world. But gazing at her earnest little face behind the big, plastic-rimmed glasses, Hank gave up without hoisting the Lone Star flag again. “Listen, Callie, I’m sorry about last night. It was a lousy thing to do, to go off and leave you all alone like that. I can’t even offer a decent excuse.”

  “That’s all right, I di
dn’t expect you to stay with me. I was there in a sort of—well, I guess you could call it an official capacity. I knew that.”

  “A command performance, in other words.” On an impulse he didn’t even try to understand—nor to resist—he reached up and removed her glasses. She blinked several times but didn’t look away, and he thought about how very young she was, and how vulnerable. And how much he was beginning to wish she was neither.

  “I met some really nice people. Your friend Mr. Churchill and the assistant librarian.” She blinked at him. “Why did you do that?” She didn’t back down an inch, just stared right back at him with that oddly mature dignity of hers until he gently replaced her glasses.

  Why? He wished to hell he knew. “Ever consider getting contacts?”

  “Yes.”

  He waited. She went on looking him square in the eye. For a lady who appeared to be so direct, he had a growing feeling she was no such thing.

  “Are you playing games with me, Callie?”

  “No.”

  He could’ve sworn she swallowed hard, but that I-shallnot-be-moved look of hers never wavered. He shook his head slowly in reluctant admiration. “Just remember,” he said softly, “out here, we play by Texas rules.”

  “You look like you haven’t had a wink of sleep. Why don’t you go home and go to bed and let me do this alone? I don’t mind.”

  He nodded soberly, enjoying the internal struggle she was trying so hard not to let show. She’d be a hell of a warrior if guts was all it took. “I’m sure you don’t, but I doubt if that clunker of yours would even make it past Windmill Hill.”

  “I know the way to Midland, my car passed its last inspection with flying colors, and I’m a very safe driver. I’ve never even had a speeding ticket.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Hank murmured, collecting the basket and bottle of warm champagne. He thought fleetingly of all the things he could have accomplished today if he hadn’t got hung up on this Quixotic notion that she needed him. By the time he got home, he’d have phone messages and e-mail stacked up like traffic over DallasFort Worth International. He’d be lucky to get to bed again before daybreak.

  For the first few miles after they left town, Callie stared out the window, as if fascinated by the oil wells, windmills and the few scrubby mesquites that broke the flat, barren land.

  “Not much like North Carolina, is it?” he asked after several minutes of silence had ticked by.

  She turned and sent him a look of pleased surprise. “You’ve been there?”

  “Oh, yeah. Blue Ridge Mountains, Outer Banks. A few spots in between.” He’d seen at least parts of almost every state in the union. Sometimes he wondered why he’d come back to West Texas. Manie put it down to a bone-deep sense of family obligation, and as she was the only family he had left, he’d let it go at that. Although technically speaking, she wasn’t even family.

  “Texas is nice, too,” Callie said gravely, and he chuckled.

  “Yeah, Texas has a lot to be proud of.” One of these days before she headed east again, maybe he’d show her around his home state. It was always instructive to see familiar things from a fresh perspective.

  He cut a swift look at her profile. Chin up, back straight, eyes front and center. Funny how someone so small and feminine could manage to be both meek and militant at the same time. Idly he wondered just how deep that streak of stubbornness went. And what had caused it.

  And what it would take to get beyond it.

  Several minutes passed in silence broken only by the purr of the air conditioner and the whisper of wind whipping over the XJ6. And then she said in that soft, husky, matterof-fact voice of hers, “May I ask you a personal question? If you don’t really want to get married, why are you doing it?”

  His hands tightened on the wheel, but he managed to hold it between the lines. “Why am I doing what?”

  “You know—Pansy and Bianca. Aunt Manie says you’re almost forty years old, and have had women chasing after you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. She said you’ve known them both for years, so I guess I just wondered, that’s all. About why you waited so long. Not that it’s any of my business.”

  “Right. It’s not. Tell me something, do you make a habit of poking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

  Thoughtfully she studied her chewed-off thumbnail. “Sometimes. Not if I think it’s going to hurt feelings or cause trouble, but you have to admit, it saves a lot of wondering time.”

  “Wondering time.” He turned the concept over in his mind and decided she had a point. “All right, I’ll play the game. To save wondering time, why haven’t you married? Why’d you come all this way to visit a relative you’ve only met once or twice in your life? What’s in it for you?”

  “I asked you first”

  “Texas rules, remember? Rule number one is ladies first. Come on, Caledonia, you’re wasting my valuable wondering time.”

  She shot him a suspicious look. Taking a deep breath that caused her seat belt to nestle even deeper between her modest breasts, she said, “Well. The answer to your first question is that nobody ever asked me. As for the second one, it’s time for Aunt Manie to retire and go back home. She’s only a few years younger than Grandpop was.”

  “Manie? Retire? Never happen.”

  “She promised to think about it if I filled in for her while she had her operation. Maybe not retiring, but going back with me for a long visit, which is practically the same thing. I’m pretty sure that once I get her home, she’ll want to stay.”

  “Honey, Manie’s whole life is right here in Royal. She’s been here since before I was even born. She owns a house here.”

  “It doesn’t have a very big yard. My house sits on seven acres, with a real nice garden in the backyard Aunt Manie loves gardening.”

  “So I’ll buy her a few acres and irrigate it.”

  “She’s long past retirement age.”

  “She could’ve retired anytime in the past ten years if she’d wanted to.”

  Callie shrugged. “She didn’t know about me ten years ago. She hadn’t been back home in ages and ages, so maybe she’d just sort of given up hope. But we’re family, even if there aren’t many of us left. Family takes care of family. Grandpop always said families were the building blocks of civilization.”

  Hank couldn’t believe the two of them were fighting about one tiny, tyrannical woman. Couldn’t believe he was fighting, period. It wasn’t his style. He was in the habit of reaching a decision, stating his position and letting the chips fly. It was one of the perks of wealth and position.

  He had a feeling neither commodity cut much ice with Callie.

  As they were getting into Midland, Hank filed the subject away for future consideration. “You’ve got the address of her friend?”

  “Right here. Her name’s Marion Jones, have you ever met her?”

  Hank shook his head. He watched as Callie removed a slip of paper from her neatly organized purse. She read off a street address and said, “I talked to Aunt Manie late yesterday afternoon and told her I’d be here sometime before noon. I don’t drive as fast as you do, so we’re early.”

  Hank had no trouble finding the address, as it was not far from where his CEO lived. He was somewhat surprised, but it occurred to him that as Manie knew practically everyone he knew, she might well have formed a friendship with the wife of one of his associates.

  He switched off the engine and swung open the door, braced for the waves of baking heat that arose from the paved driveway. He was used to it. Callie wasn’t. If he remembered correctly, her part of the country was hot, too, but it was a different type of heat. At least it rained occasionally in North Carolina. In West Texas, drought was a fact of life. Rain happened, but so rarely that folks had worn out all the old jokes about Noah’s Ark, the forty-day rain and the fact that West Texas got only a couple of inches that year.

  The door was opened by a uniformed maid. “Mees Riley?” she said in a heavily accented
voice, ignoring Hank to smile at Callie. “Mees Manie is expecting you. She’s in the sunroom.”

  The sunroom? At high noon in August?

  “I brought some fried chicken, the way Aunt Manie likes it—oh, and there’s potato salad, too. No eggs or mayonnaise, but I guess you’d better put it in the refrigerator anyway, if there’s room.”

  The smiling maid took the basket and the wine and turned away, and Hank thought about the massive stainlesssteel refrigerator in his own kitchen that was stocked fresh daily by his kitchen staff.

  If there was room? Bless her heart, did she think they still used ice boxes out here in the hinterlands?

  Manie called out from a room across the large tiled foyer. “I’m out here, you all come on out. Watch the step-down.”

  Callie was too busy watching the plants. They were everywhere, massive, flowering vines and leathery-leafed plants, orchids of every variety crawling on overhead supports. She would’ve fallen if Hank hadn’t taken her arm.

  “Watch it, there might be quicksand bogs,” he joked, trying and failing to ignore the feel of her soft warm skin and the subtle fragrance that drifted up from her hair. It wasn’t the orchids, nor any of the other exotic flora, it was Callie, pure and simple. He’d noticed it last night.

  “Marion had to go to the airport to meet some people. I’m real sorry you all won’t get to meet each other. Now, tell me everything. How’d the ball go? Honey, did you get a pretty dress? Did you go to that place I told you about on the corner of Main and Marshall? Were there any engagements announced? I was kind of worried about that new place that supplies temporary workers, but Hanna over at Claire’s says they’re real reliable. How’d we do for the fund? Did we top last year’s total? Are there any—?”

  Hank held up a hand. “Whoa. I’ll give you all the data, but first I want to know how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m going to be just fine. A tad uncomfortable right now, if you want to know the truth, but they tell me that’s normal. I’ll be back in fighting trim in no time at all. Now, what about Callie’s dress?”