“You could eat fifty boxes and never put on an ounce. You make me sick.”
“But you thought you’d see if this tactic worked anyway?” Ally began to undo the plastic wrapping. “Let’s put that theory to the test.”
Jess laughed and pinched Ally’s cheek, just as if her niece was still a toddler. Jess was only a decade older, but she’d always wielded those years over Ally.
Then, after roaming to the other side of the bed, she plopped down onto the mattress. “I can’t wait for the barbecue tomorrow. Texas beef. I missed it while I was away.”
“There’ll be plenty of it.”
“There’s always plenty of everything when you’re in charge.”
Ally bit into a candy, rolling her eyes with pleasure. She offered the box to Jess, who refused it. Ally noticed that her blue eyes were shining with emotion.
“I know I’ve been telling you this for a while now,” Jess said, “but if your parents were around to see how you’ve taken up their causes…”
Ally’s smile won out over the sadness. The anguish of losing her parents in a small plane crash—they’d been traveling to yet another philanthropic event—had diminished, but not disappeared. It never would, even though they’d died just over a year ago.
“At least,” Jess continued, “they didn’t live to see what happened to their holdings. Your dad just should’ve forced you to take over the company.”
“Or you.” Most of the Gale Company’s media properties had been driven to bankruptcy by the cousins and protégés her father had trusted, their fortunes weakened by Ponzi schemes and other bad investments. Ally had told her parents early on that she preferred not to run the business and would rather carry on with their charity work, and they had made provisions for her and Jess to do so.
Sometimes she wished she’d made a different choice, though, even if she wasn’t a businessperson at heart. At least she had managed her own, more modest personal accounts decently; though she wasn’t stinking rich anymore, she wasn’t broke. She even had a couple of business properties left, including that Galveston resort Jeremiah Barron had talked about.
And she really should think about selling it to him.
But what would happen if she conducted business with an attractive rake who was clearly intent on doing more than paperwork?
She chased off the possibility. She was concerned about her finances, but she wouldn’t put herself into a situation where she was figuratively in bed with Jeremiah Barron.
Not since she’d realized what really mattered in life after she’d broken things off with Marco.
Jess had noticed the portfolio on Ally’s nightstand and gone for it, opening it up before Ally could say anything.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Ally sat next to her on the bed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
Nerves skittered through her as her aunt held up the folder, perusing a copy of a collage Ally had put together—a mosaic of photos that revealed what she loved in life: rainbows she had seen on walks through the countryside when she’d been growing up on her parents’ Texas estate ranch, which had recently been sold off. Her favorite horse, an Arabian named Willow, who had died a couple of years ago. The lights of San Antonio’s Riverwalk at night through the window of the luxury apartment that she’d recently said goodbye to. A picture of the relatively humble country house she’d bought in central California over a year ago and managed to hold on to, with its few rolling green acres, oak trees, big windows and tiny personal vineyard.
“You had time to do an art project lately, Al?” Jess asked, laying the portfolio on the mattress.
Ally swallowed. She hadn’t told anyone about the reason for that portfolio yet. Then again, she didn’t have any other close family besides Aunt Jess, and her younger friends in this social set wouldn’t understand.
“I’m going to have a child, Jess.”
Her aunt looked as if she’d been zapped with a stun gun.
“What I mean,” Ally said, “is that I’m planning to adopt.”
Another zap for Jess, who still remained uncharacteristically speechless.
Ally rushed to finish. “I’ve thought about this a long time. It even started back with Marco, after I realized that we didn’t love each other enough to get married and begin a family. He loved his business pursuits, and he was never around, which wasn’t the kind of life I wanted for me or any children. So, shortly after we broke up, I applied to an independent adoption facilitator in California.” She motioned toward the portfolio. “They wanted me to do this so the birth moms could get an idea of who I am before any of them request an interview. I just turned it in about a month and a half ago—”
“Wow.”
Ally startled at her aunt’s wary tone.
But then she went on.
“I’m not willing to wait around for Mr. Right. I’m ready for children now. I might not be rich any longer, but I’m still pretty well-off, and I can afford to give a family a really good life.” She took the portfolio from the bed. “Besides, I want to do what Mom and Dad did for me.”
She’d been adopted, too, and although the process had been a closed one, her parents had told her the truth early on, emphasizing that Ally was all theirs, no matter the circumstances of her birth.
Jess shifted on the bed. “You’re doing this all on your own?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve thought about every detail?”
“Of course.”
But Jess still seemed uncomfortable, and Ally knew the exact reason—she’d been afraid it would play a part in Jess’s opinion.
“Don’t you think,” her aunt said, “you should wait a little longer? You know how I felt about my mom raising me by herself—she wasn’t equipped for it after my dad left. Even with the nannies and our money, there was still a lack of…” Jess sighed. “Ally, I needed a father there. I know that you’re capable of being a wonderful mother, but half of the equation is still going to be missing for that child.”
“I don’t agree with that, Jess.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell her aunt that just because a man was around, it didn’t guarantee a happy home life. She’d seen too many marriages with children falter and break in their high-society world.
Jess blew out a breath. “You lost your parents not too long ago, then came Marco. I’m afraid you’re basing your choice on the wrong feelings.”
“I’m not rebounding or being rash.”
“I just…” Jess wrinkled her brow. “You’ve got a lot of time to be a mother, Al.”
Ally slowly stood from the bed, clutching the portfolio. “You, of all people, should know that I wouldn’t take this lightly. I’m not some flippant socialite with a whim.”
And that was why she was steering a hundred feet clear of men like Jeremiah Barron—at least on an intimate basis. It was well and fine to associate with them during the charity events, but her parents had raised her to see through money and all its trappings—and Jeremiah was the peak of its excesses.
She put him out of her head—and everywhere else—as she went to the closet, where she’d stored her suitcase, and put the portfolio on top of the luggage.
“Ally…” Jess said, pressing a hand to her temple.
Why couldn’t her aunt understand?
“I want to be there for someone,” Ally said, “just like Mom and Dad. They gave me such love, Jess, more than my birth parents could’ve ever done.” Since her adoption had been a closed one, she hadn’t been able to contact the woman who’d given birth to her, much less the man who’d fathered her. Ally used to dream that she would meet them someday, but they’d obviously never wanted to find her.
Ally wasn’t going to do that to her child, though; this would be an open adoption, and she would see to it that her child never wondered, creating impossible fantasies about the people who had given her or him up.
“They raised me right,” Ally added, “and they gave me values as w
ell as making me valued. And I can pay that forward.”
“Without a father around?”
“I’m not ruling out that there might be someone who can be the baby’s father someday,” Ally said. “But that could take years, and I’m not willing to wait, not when I have so much to give now.”
“So there’s no way you’ll take more time before some birth mother takes a liking to you.”
Ally closed the closet door. She could understand why her aunt was thinking that the hurt Marco had visited upon her was translating into a need for a child, and that Ally was rushing into something because she only wanted some validation.
Was she only thinking of herself, believing that she would be enough family for a child?
No, Ally thought. That wasn’t true at all.
And she wanted to convince Jess of it.
The next morning, before breakfast was served in the dining room, Ally got ready early, showering and putting on some jeans and a pale blue blouse that tied at her waist. Then she set out for a stroll before the heat really claimed the weather.
She and Jess hadn’t talked anymore last night about the adoption. But even as her aunt had changed the subject and chatted about Hawaii until they retired, Ally knew that she would find a way to change Jess’s mind about raising a child without a father. She yearned for her aunt’s unconditional support, and she wanted to make darned sure it came sooner rather than later.
While walking the meadows, Ally felt the sun on her skin as it rose, the warmth breathing over her arms. Grass swayed in the slight breeze and, in the distance, horses wandered in a pasture.
She bent to pick a purple wildflower, wondering what a baby’s face would look like the first time he or she saw one. Wondering how it would feel to hold a newborn as day turned to night and she rocked her child to sleep.
Lost in the beauty of that thought, she didn’t hear the grumble of a Jeep until she glanced up to find it beside her on the road.
And the second she saw the driver, dressed in faded jeans, a white Western shirt and a cowboy hat, her pulse twirled in her veins.
Jeremiah Barron.
He swept off his hat. “Mornin’, Ally.”
His wheat-colored hair looked tousled and he had that devil-may-care glint in those blue eyes, which always seemed to be in a near squint, as if he was forever about to crack a charming grin.
Then he unleashed a full smile on Ally, putting his hat back on his head. Her chest flared with that unwelcome response he always brought out in her—the “no-no-uh-uh” explosion of tingly awareness.
But he wasn’t what she needed in her life right now. Just imagine the trouble a scallywag like him would bring to a new mother who didn’t need it.
“Early riser?” she asked, striving to be sociable.
“I figured I’d take a look around, check out the sights.”
There went that glimmer in his eyes again, and Ally couldn’t put a halt to the flutter in her chest.
But she tried. “Have fun then, Mr. Barron.”
“Jeremiah,” he said lightly. “We already talked about the first-name thing, Ally.”
She should tell him once and for all that she was more comfortable using the “mister,” but then she recalled yesterday when he’d looked so melancholy after she’d brought up his family.
He was a person, not just a mister, and she didn’t have the heart to treat him like something less.
That was as far as it would go, though.
“How was your room?” she asked. “Terrence took care of you?”
“Terrence is all a butler should be.”
As the motor purred, Jeremiah eyed her, and it unsettled her that she most definitely knew he had something other than butlers in mind.
“Okay, then.” She nodded at him, thinking that it would be a good idea to continue with her walk.
But as soon as she strolled ahead, there was a stir behind her, as if he’d gotten out of the vehicle and—
Jeremiah’s arm wrapped around Ally’s waist just before he scooped her up and deposited her in the passenger seat.
What the…?
Breath knocked out of her, Ally clung to the seat as Jeremiah jogged to the other side, hopped in and revved the engine to a go.
“Just turning your morning walk into a morning adventure,” he said with a sexy grin.
As they took off, Ally held tight, knowing that with Jeremiah Barron, this was bound to be more than a morning jaunt.
It would be a wild ride that she couldn’t afford.
Chapter Two
Jeremiah didn’t give Ally a chance to protest as he drove along.
He let it ride, enjoying himself, trying not to think about how, this morning, he’d called home to check up on his dad—how hungover the old man might be today.
And it had been just as Jeremiah had expected— Eli Barron was very hungover and the household was walking around on eggshells. To add to that, Jeremiah’s cousin…no, brother…Chet had left the ranch again, taking off to oversee another business deal somewhere, just as confused about his new family situation as anyone else.
With all that pressing down on Jeremiah, he’d been dying to let off steam, especially since he’d also endured a night of thinking about how Ally Gale was somewhere in that mansion, down a hall, just a short walk away.
Then he’d seen her strolling in the meadow and, suddenly, the morning had gotten a little brighter.
“Jeremiah,” Ally said, leaning away from him as they drove down the road, “I want to walk, not…”
He slowed down. “Not what?”
He’d said it with an innuendo in his tone, and he noticed that there were goosebumps on Ally’s arms again.
Instead of answering his question, she rolled her eyes.
As they traveled toward some cottonwoods, Jeremiah caught the scent of Ally’s hair, which she’d tucked up into that chignon again. It smelled so good, like summer fruit. Same with her skin. And he couldn’t stop looking at the graceful curve of her neck and wondering what she would do if he just stopped the Jeep, leaned over and sketched his lips over her….
“You just can’t do these kinds of things,” she said.
“You mean sweeping you away for a ride kinds of things?”
Another sigh. “Yes.”
“Ah.” He slowed down even more as they entered the copse of trees, on a rougher road that was marked by tire tracks. Next to them, a creek burbled over rocks and moss. Up ahead, a rabbit darted into a bush. “Dangerous stuff, isn’t it? Riding in a vehicle with me.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“What’s so wicked about it?”
“You have more than a morning ride in mind,” she said. “We both know that.”
“Ally.” His voice was gritty. “I’m not that bad of a guy.”
She only laughed and, for some reason, it nicked him.
What—did he want acceptance from the socialite who was so well-known for her upstanding morals? Not acceptance, really. But even if he did, why should he care what she thought of him beyond how good he could make them both feel?
“You think I’m out to ruin your reputation,” he said.
“Not necessarily. But I really don’t need the kind of gossip that’s bound to happen if someone sees me alone in the woods with you.”
“You’re above gossip.”
“No one is.”
She was a tough one under all the polish. No wonder Allison Gale had never fallen prey to trappings of the high life—drugs, decadence, the loss of a moral center—as most of their circle had. She’d risen above the temptations, so why shouldn’t she be able to withstand him, too?
It weighed Jeremiah down to be classified along with those other bad influences.
“Speaking of gossip,” Ally said, “you should know more than anyone how destructive it can be.”
“I don’t let it bother me.”
This time, she did look at him, and the vivid hue and honesty of her blue-green eyes ra
ttled him.
“I think the scandal bothers you a lot,” she said softly. “Even though you give good interviews to the press on behalf of the Barron Group, and even though you seem to stand strong for your family’s businesses with the storm brewing around you, it all matters in some way to you. You just don’t like to show it.”
He let her go on thinking so.
“You know there’s been idle talk about you,” she added. “Some downright mean comments.”
“I haven’t noticed.”
But her words ate at him. No one outside the family knew him well enough to be talking. They didn’t know how his family had always operated: Tyler, the golden son, raised and bred to be the leader of the family, then Jeremiah, the afterthought, who watched from the shadows. Their father had never expected much out of him, but it wasn’t in Jeremiah’s Barron blood to fade to irrelevance, although he often felt that disposable.
No, he had quietly gone about becoming his own man while growing up, working his own deals, whether it was talking his way into better grades at prep school and college, making rogue deals for the good of the Barron Group early on in his career or independently negotiating for the best horse stock in Texas to fill the stables at the family’s estate ranch.
Unlike his brother, who’d gotten divorced, and his father, who’d failed with his own wife, Jeremiah had taken another route altogether. He’d stayed on his own, playing the field. He’d always been good at it, too. And, perversely, even though he and Tyler had never been at odds, Jeremiah took some satisfaction that, at least in this area, he was the better brother, always succeeding with the women, never letting one down.
And he was better than his father at that game, too, which mattered more. So much more.
Then Chet had come along, and Tyler had wrestled with his own issues at being replaced as the favorite son in the family, since their dad had gone overboard in making sure their “new” brother felt loved. It’d taken Zoe Velez, the PR woman tasked with cleaning up Eli’s mess, to save Tyler. And it was good to see that she made him happy, and that he made her feel the same way.
Taming the Texas Playboy Page 2