Falling for the Texas Tycoon

by Karen Rose Smith

  On that thought, she slid her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck under his hat. She wanted this kiss to go on forever and ever and ever.

  But as all things in this life, it couldn’t. She was still holding on, responding with all the desire welling up inside of her, when Alan slowed everything down. His hands clasped her upper arms and he reluctantly pulled away. As they stood gazing into each other’s eyes, he suddenly let go, turned away from her and swiped off his Stetson. He let the wind blow about him, tousling his hair, lifting the lapel of his jacket.

  What was he thinking? There was only one way to find out. “Alan?”

  Swiveling to face her again, he ran his thumb over the rim of his hat, then plunked it back on his head. “All right,” he said, as if he’d come to some conclusion.

  “All right?” She didn’t know what that meant. He’d obviously been fighting an inner battle and one side or the other had won.

  “How would you like to go out with me tomorrow night? It’s Valentine’s Day.”

  She wanted to jump up and down, twirl in a circle and sing “Alleluia.” How mature would that be? Instead, she just grinned at him. “I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

  “We need to get to know each other better. We need to figure out if we both really want this. So what if I pick you up about seven? We’ll have a quiet dinner and see where we can go from there.”

  “Dinner, where?” She added quickly, “I need to know how to dress.”

  “I joined a private club in the fall. There are small dining rooms for special occasions. I’ll see if I can reserve one of those. They require a suit, so you can judge what you should wear from that.”

  She could go all-out. She could keep it very simple. Maybe she’d ask Jillian for her opinion. She could ask Carrie, but—

  “Are you going to tell Brian we’re going out?” she asked him.

  “I’m not going to keep it from him, but I’m not going to shout it from the rooftops, either.”

  “I don’t want to affect your friendship or your business relationship with him.”

  “You won’t. We’re going to dinner, Lisa. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Yes, they were going to dinner, and Alan might or might not tell Brian. They were going to a private club where she guessed very few people would see them. Were Alan’s plans for Valentine’s Day special and intimate? Or had he chosen an evening like this so they wouldn’t be seen in public together, so he wouldn’t have to make explanations to friends or colleagues?

  The age difference between them wasn’t going to go away, but neither were her feelings for Alan. Maybe after tomorrow night, she would know whether she should jump in with two feet or not.

  Yet she had the feeling her heart already knew the answer to that, and any precautions she might try to take against heartache would already be too late.

  Chapter Nine

  “Oh, my gosh!” Lisa exclaimed when Alan escorted her out of her building and she saw the shiny white stretch limo at the curb. She’d thought she was prepared for tonight. She’d decided she was going to enjoy being Cinderella for the evening and face reality in the morning. Didn’t she deserve one night of fantasy? Didn’t any woman?

  A chauffeur was standing by the back door of the limo and he opened it.

  “You went all-out,” she said to Alan, who looked too sexy for words in his Western-cut suit jacket, black bolo tie and black Stetson.

  “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

  When she’d opened her door to him, his gaze had traveled down her red knit dress, come to rest on the silver concho belt that she’d slung around her hips and returned to her face with a hunger that both terrified her and thrilled her. He was still looking at her that way.

  Could she satisfy that hunger? Would she be a disappointment to him? “I suppose I could have brought my car,” he told her, “but that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun. Come on, climb in and see what’s inside.”

  As she slid onto the leather seat, Alan joined her. He pointed to the magnum of champagne on the seat across from them. Beside it sat a silver warming dish. “I thought we’d have a glass of Dom Perignon and an appetizer on the way to dinner. What do you think?”

  “Can I peek?” Excitement bubbled inside of her because he was making her feel like Cinderella.

  He grinned. “Sure, you can peek.”

  If she just sat there next to him wanting to kiss him, wanting him to kiss her, she’d start shaking. So she opened the top of the warmer and saw stuffed mushrooms inside. “Do we have napkins?”

  He laughed, deeply and richly. It was a sound that said he appreciated her. She so hoped that was true. All day she’d mulled over why he was taking her to a private club. Because he didn’t want them to be seen together in public? Or simply because the night would be more intimate? If the opportunity arose, she’d ask him. Until then, she was simply going to enjoy everything he’d planned.

  “Oh, I have napkins all right. Do you want to take off your shawl until we get where we’re going?”

  She eyed him. “Are you going to take off your hat?”

  “A Texan only takes off his hat when he goes to bed, and then it’s not that far away. Don’t you like hats?”

  He was definitely amused by her question, and she found she liked lightening his mood and making him smile. Still, she answered him seriously. “It shadows your face. I can’t tell at all what you’re thinking or feeling.”

  In a swift motion, he tossed his hat onto the seat next to the champagne magnum. “What do you see?” he asked huskily.

  His blue eyes were mysterious with thoughts and feelings she couldn’t read. Yet she guessed what they were. “I see a man who wants to enjoy tonight as much as I do.”

  “You’re a good reader of eyes,” he teased. Then his hands went to her shawl and slid it from her shoulders.

  She could feel his fingers drag across her back. She could smell the pine scent of his aftershave. She could sense the heat they were both generating, and the evening had just begun.

  Lifting her chin, he ran his thumb from side to side over it. “I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to mess up your lipstick before we even get started.” Then he took the bottle of champagne from the ice and expertly opened it.

  Soon he had the golden liquid poured into crystal flutes for each of them. When he handed her hers, she took it. “Can I ask you something?” she murmured.

  “You can ask me anything. Well…almost anything,” he joked.

  “Did you have trouble concentrating today? Or was it just another day in the month?” In spite of herself, she was totally invested in what happened tonight and needed to know he was, too.

  “I couldn’t work longer than fifteen minutes on anything specific,” he admitted wryly. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Because you were looking forward to tonight…or because you had doubts?”

  After a few moments of silence, he ran his hand through his hair. “Oh, I still have doubts, and I think you do, too. But tonight is about getting to know each other better and I looked forward to that all day.”

  She honestly got the feeling that Alan meant exactly what he said. That he was a bit on edge because he didn’t know what was going to happen next, yet was looking forward to whatever did.

  She took a sip of the champagne, then wrinkled her nose. “It tickles.”

  “You’ve never had champagne before?”

  “No. If you haven’t guessed, I didn’t come from a background of champagne and stuffed mushrooms. My mom was a dental hygienist, my dad an electrician. We lived in a Cape Cod house in an old neighborhood and my room had slanted ceilings. It was yellow and I loved it. My mom made the curtains herself. That sort of gives you a picture of how I grew up.”

  He nodded. “Quite different from me learning about the price of beef before I went to school, and how to cut cows from a herd. Although my parents lacked for nothing, they made sure Neal and I knew the value of a hard day’s work
. We never took our life for granted.”

  Alan’s upbringing showed. The man he’d become told her that those early values had lasted. “I think I did take my life for granted,” she confided. “I mean I lived in this bubble and thought everything would always be perfect—that my parents would always be around. I’d go to my prom, graduate, become something they’d be proud of, then I’d have a family and they’d dote on my kids.”

  Her throat closed and she stopped when she realized what she’d said. Clearing her throat, she recovered quickly. “I don’t take anything for granted anymore. When your world changes drastically, quickly, nothing’s ever the same again. It’s like something happens in an instant, and you have to spend years trying to make everything right again.”

  “What did you have to make right again?” he asked gently.

  “I had to stop feeling like a victim. I had to take control, run my own life and grow up fast.”

  They were sitting terrifically close, his thigh lodged against hers. Extending his arm around her shoulders, he leaned even nearer and kissed her temple. “Getting to know you better was a very good idea.”

  Her heart told her to pour out everything to this man. But her head and reason warned her to just concentrate on telling Alan about her life before she’d hit the streets, before she’d gotten pregnant, before she’d given away her son. There wouldn’t be any danger in that. Tonight she didn’t want to think about danger or regrets. She just wanted to enjoy being with Alan.

  The chauffeur drove them around the city, giving them time to relish the champagne and appetizers, giving them time to talk and simply to gaze into each other’s eyes.

  When he pulled up under the portico of a three-story brick building, Lisa was almost sorry. She’d love to ride around Portland with Alan in the vehicle all night.

  “This was a wonderful idea,” she told him as he stepped out of the limo and took her hand to help her out.

  “I have them once in a while,” he joked. “Just wait till we get to stage two.”

  Producing a pass card, Alan opened the front door to the club. Once inside, he had to use the card again and then touch his thumb to the small square pad. “It recognizes my fingerprint,” he explained.

  “No doorman needed.”

  “No one sees who’s coming and going this way. Exclusivity is one of the reasons men join. We can escape here and no one need ever know.”

  “The club is only for men?”

  “I understand there are women’s clubs, too. If you want the name of one, I’m sure I can find one.”

  She was certain she wouldn’t be able to afford the membership fee.

  “Why did you join?” she asked as they walked down a hall with rich dark paneling, thick carpet and portraits of men who had made a difference in the world placed at comfortable intervals.

  “I joined because I wanted to be grounded. I knew the area from spending time here when I was in college. One of my friends from school got a job up here, but he was as busy as I was. I could stop in here to watch a game if I didn’t want to sit in my hotel room, or I could play pool, or bring a client to dinner. There are racquetball courts downstairs and workout rooms. It had everything I needed to start making myself at home in Portland.”

  “I never even knew this was here. It’s very discreet.”

  Again she had to wonder if he’d brought her here to be discreet. Here, no one noticed who came and went, and that’s the way he wanted it.

  “So did you make friends here?”

  “Not really. I found a few partners for racquetball, but I didn’t join looking for community. I think women do that more than men.”

  He was probably right about that. Besides, Alan had family ties to give him the community he needed. “You and your brother are close, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve had a common goal since we were kids—make the Lazy B a success. I think that brought us close. We disagree a lot because we’re different. But we’re brothers and that’s the bottom line.”

  The more Lisa knew about Alan, the more she liked him. He had strong family ties and he didn’t take them for granted. Relationships took work, and he seemed to understand that better than other men she’d met.

  Then why hadn’t he gotten involved with anyone since his divorce?

  Had he been burned too badly? Had he closed his heart to women, except to enjoy them in bed? Or had he simply learned that nothing lasted forever, and he didn’t want to be disillusioned a second time? Was that the real problem with their age difference? She still had romantic dreams and he didn’t?

  Finally they arrived at a closed, mahogany-paneled door. Above it was the brass letter B. “There’s more than one private dining room,” he explained, and then opened the heavy door.

  Inside the room, Lisa took a look around and smiled. It was every girl’s dream of what Valentine’s Day should be. There were heart-shaped grapevine wreaths on the walls, wound with twinkle lights. A gold sconce held at least ten votive candles that flickered romantically. Besides the serving table covered with a gold tablecloth, a table for two beckoned to them. Its white linen covering was pristine; a dozen long-stemmed red roses in a crystal vase scented the air; ivory china with gold trim and gold flatware sparkled on the table.

  “This is so lovely.” She couldn’t stop looking around, noticing every detail.

  “Not as lovely as you.” Alan’s voice was husky as he stepped closer to her.

  She was torn between feeling like a princess and wondering if this was his standard operating procedure. Maybe he made all of his dates feel like Cinderella.

  “What’s the matter?” He apparently saw something in her eyes that concerned him.

  Feeling self-conscious, she said, “I don’t want to spoil the mood.”

  He took her face between his palms. “If there’s something on your mind, I want to know what it is.”

  Swallowing hard, she asked, “Do you do this for all your dates?”

  “Valentine’s Day only comes once a year.”

  “You know what I mean, Alan. I love the limo, this room, feeling like a princess, but I also have to wonder if you’ve done all this before, at least a hundred times.”

  When he dropped his hands from her face, she was afraid she’d blown the night. She was afraid she had insulted him and he’d think she was ungrateful.

  His mouth tightened and the nerve in his jaw worked, but his tone was more frustrated than angry when he replied, “I did this for you…for us. I’ve never brought a woman to dinner here before. Sure, I’ve taken dates to expensive restaurants. I’ve hired limos. But not as often as you think.” After a long look and a pause, he added, “And I don’t have lines that I pull out of a book when they’re convenient.”

  She reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry I asked. I did spoil everything, didn’t I?”

  He grasped her hand and took it between his. “No, you didn’t. But what makes you think you’re not special enough for a night like this?”

  Whoa. A perceptive man. He’d dived to the bottom line without a blink. Her heart hammered and she thought about telling him everything. But she did want tonight. She did want to feel special, even if in her soul she didn’t feel she deserved it. “I guess I’m just insecure. I’ve never been around anyone…like you.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he teased, then led her to the table. “I ordered filet mignon and lobster. I figured if you didn’t like one, you’d like the other.” After he pulled her chair out for her, he waited until she was seated. Then he took the shawl from around her shoulders, his hand brushing her neck. He laid it on a jewel-toned, cut-velvet love seat, set his hat beside it and joined her at the table.

  “I like both,” she assured him.

  He checked his watch. “We have a few minutes before dinner arrives.” He nodded to her locket. “Did you get a new chain for that?”

  She took the heart between her fingers. “Yes, I did. The jeweler said even if he repaired the
old one, it might break again.”

  With an unreadable expression, he handed her a small box wrapped in gold foil with a white bow. “Let’s get something straight right up front. I do not give presents to all my dates. But this is Valentine’s Day. I wanted to thank you for helping Christina pick out a car and being so nice to her while you were at the Lazy B.”

  Alan was making the gift easy for her to accept. If he cached it in terms of gratitude, he knew she wouldn’t give it back. How could she refuse a thank-you? “I like your daughter. It was easy to be nice to her.”

  With excitement flushing her cheeks, Lisa took the bow from the box and unwrapped it. Lifting the white lid, she found a pair of fourteen-carat-gold heart earrings inside. “Oh Alan, they’re perfect! They match my locket.”

  “They’re as close as I could get.”

  She took them from the box. “I’m going to put them on.” A minute later, she turned her head from one side to the other, then stood and went around the table and gave him a huge hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “If I stand up and give you a real kiss, the waiter might see something he shouldn’t when he brings in dinner.”

  Leaning away from Alan slightly, Lisa saw the hunger in his eyes. It mirrored her own desire. She knew he wasn’t going to push her to sleep with him, but she also knew by the end of this dinner, she had to make up her mind whether she was going to or not.

  If Lisa could have prolonged dinner forever, she would have. She knew the evening would be full of indelible memories—the deepening of Alan’s blue eyes whenever their gazes locked, the tiny forkfuls of buttery lobster that they fed each other, the sweet, creamy smoothness of the cheesecake on her tongue, the crooked smile on Alan’s lips as he watched her, clearly thinking about more kisses to come. Finally, when they’d poured real cream into their coffee, taken a few sips, then clasped hands across the table, she knew the decision she had to make was no decision at all. She wanted tonight. She wanted Alan. She wanted, for a few hours, the opportunity to be a woman with no history, free to give herself, free to love. Was that too much to ask?