Sheltered by the Millionaire

by Catherine Mann

  Damn, she was hot when she was all fired up. Of course she was hot any time. And while he’d misjudged her intent with the kiss Saturday, he hadn’t misread her interest. For some reason she thought a one-night stand would suffice, but she was wrong.

  He would give her some space for now. Holidays were tough. He got that. But after Thanksgiving?

  They would not be ignoring each other.

  * * *

  Monday morning, Megan carried her sleepy daughter with her into work. The familiar chorus of barking dogs greeted her, reminding her of her responsibilities here, to all of the animals still in need of homes. Saturday’s placement of twelve cats had been an amazing coup for such a small shelter. She couldn’t afford to turn down Whit’s generous offer of his plane, but she also couldn’t put her heart at risk again.

  The weekend with Whit had been better than she could have dreamed. He’d been charming, helpful, generous. He’d been amazing with her daughter.

  And he’d been a perfect gentleman.

  She was the one who’d gone off the rails and kissed him. She’d literally thrown herself at him. Again. Sure, he’d responded, but then he’d pulled away. She was starting to feel silly.

  Except she knew she hadn’t misread the signs. He wanted her too. So why did he keep pulling away? She’d all but promised him a night of no-strings sex and he’d still walked.

  Usually guys bailed out because she had a kid. Those guys were easy to spot. They were awkward with Evie. But Whit wasn’t that way.

  Had he freaked out that there was a child in the picture at the last minute anyway? She didn’t think so. His eyes had still smoked over her at every turn Sunday. But she hadn’t felt up to the embarrassment of doing a postmortem on how he’d walked away from taking that kiss to its natural conclusion.

  Damn it, she didn’t have time for these kinds of games in her life. Which was the very reason she’d wanted one night, just one night with him.

  She nodded to Beth at the front desk and walked past to settle Evie in her office on the small sofa. Evie had chosen a doctor’s costume today, to cure all the people and animals hurt in the tornado. The post-Halloween sales had filled Evie’s costume box to overflowing. Every time Megan or one of her friends offered to buy her a toy, Evie shook her head and picked another outfit. Megan had thought about counseling, even discussed it with the preschool director. Sue Ellen had pointed her in the direction of some videos the other children in the preschool had watched together, but so far those hadn’t effected any changes in Evie.

  Megan sagged against the open door frame.t

  Beth waved from the desk. “Good morning. How was your weekend?”

  She dodged the question that she didn’t even really know how to answer. “You’re here early.”

  Beth cradled a mug of herbal tea, the scent of oranges and spices drifting across the room. “The kennel supervisor let me in. I wanted to see your face when you came to the shelter today.”

  Alarms sounded in Megan’s mind. “Is something wrong?”

  “Things are very right.” Beth set aside her mug. “A dozen guys—and women—from the Cattleman’s Club spent the weekend volunteering.”

  Another reason to be grateful to a man she’d spent the past three and half years resenting. “Whit said he intended to ask them to help out....”

  And she was grateful. She’d assumed a couple of them would come by to play with the dogs.

  “Well, they did more than help out. In addition to doing the regular cleaning and exercising the dogs, they fixed the broken kennel run and cleared an area behind the play yard that’s been full of debris. They said they’ll be back after Thanksgiving weekend to build an agility course for the dogs and add a climbing tree for the cat house.” Beth winked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You must have really impressed him.”

  Megan’s knees felt wobbly. He’d coordinated all that effort this weekend while she’d been thinking about a quick fling? She’d had Whit Daltry all wrong. All. Wrong.

  “Whit mentioned putting in a call, but I had no idea how much they would do. Especially when everyone is still dealing with the upheaval in their own lives.”

  “They care about each other and our community. They just needed pointing in this direction to help. It’s okay to ask for help every now and again, Megan. You don’t have to be a superwoman.”

  She nodded tightly. “For the animals, absolutely.”

  “For yourself.”

  Megan stayed silent, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. She was happy with her life, damn it. She was looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with her daughter, eating turkey nuggets and sweet potato fries.

  Memories of Evie’s laughter at the ice skating rink taunted her with all she might be missing.

  “So?” Beth tipped back the office chair and sipped her tea. “How did things go with you and Whit on the great kitty transport?”

  “Fantastic. The rescue is all foster-home-based, so every cat is now placed with a family until an adopter is found.” Megan opted for impersonal facts. She walked to the shelves by a small table and straightened adoption applications and promotional flyers. After Thanksgiving, she would need to put up a small Santa Paws tree for donations. So much to do. She didn’t have time for anything else. “I even made some notes for our shelter on how they handle their foster system.”

  “Sounds like Whit is really bending over backwards to mend fences with you.”

  Megan crossed her arms over her chest that still yearned for the press of Whit’s body against hers. “As you said, we all need to do what’s best for the community right now.”

  “Sure, and sometimes it’s personal.” Standing, Beth said, gently, “Like now.”

  “I never even implied—”

  “You don’t have to. You’re blushing!” Beth pointed, her nails short and neat. She stepped closer and whispered, “What happened while you were in Colorado? Come on. I tell you everything. Spill!”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Sadly. Megan had wanted more and still didn’t know why he’d pulled away. “My daughter was with me. How about we discuss your love life? Yours definitely has more traction than mine. How are things with you and Drew Farrell? Have you set a date?”

  “Weeellll, a Valentine’s wedding would be nice, but we’ll see.” She set aside her mug with a contented sigh. “For now, we’re enjoying being together and in love. Repairs are still going on at my house. Once they’re done, we’ll decide if I’m going to sell or stay at Drew’s.”

  “How’s Stormy?”

  Beth had adopted a cocker spaniel mix from the shelter, similar to her dog Gus that had died. Stormy had stolen Beth’s heart when she’d volunteered after the tornado. “Full of mischief and a total delight.”

  “And the cats?” She stalled for time.

  When Drew first dropped Beth off at the shelter after the storm to help Megan with cleanup, Megan encouraged Drew to take a couple of cats home with him. He’d insisted he was allergic to cats, but Megan could tell he and Beth were both enchanted. Since the kittens had come from a feral litter, placing them would have proved difficult at a time when they were already packed. Megan had mentioned the possibility of him needing barn cats—and it was a match made in heaven.

  “They spend more time indoors than in the barn. Drew pops a couple of antihistamines and watches ball games with them in his lap.” Home-and-hearth bliss radiated from her smile. “It’s adorable.”

  Megan didn’t begrudge Beth that joy, but God, it stung today of all days. “I’m happy for you both. For Stormy and the cats too. Thank you for taking them.”

  “Our pleasure.”

  Hearing how easily Beth said “our,” Megan couldn’t help but ask, “You and Drew were enemies for so long. How did you overcome that negative history so easily?”
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  “Who said it was easy?”

  “Oh, but—”

  Beth rested a hand on hers. “It’s worth the effort.” She sat back with a sigh. “I’m still in the ‘pinch me’ stage with this relationship. It’s everything I didn’t dare to dream of growing up.”

  Beth was a jeans-and-cotton-shirts kind of girl, with a causal elegance she didn’t seem to realize she had. If anything, she was a little insecure in spite of all her success, sensitive about her past and the whole notion of having grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.

  Megan gave Beth an impulsive hug. “It’s real.” She leaned back with a smile. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I’m so happy for you, my friend.”

  “Thank you.” Beth hugged Megan back. “By the way, I noticed you dodged answering my question about Whit. I only ask because I care. I want you to be happy. You deserve to have more in your life than work.”

  “I have my daughter.” Megan sat at the table set up for people to fill out adoption applications, the Thanksgiving holiday suddenly looming large and lonely ahead of her.

  Beth walked to the table and sat in the chair across from her. “And when Evie grows up?”

  “Then you and I can have this talk again.” She fidgeted with a pen, spinning it in a pinwheel on the table.

  Beth’s eyes turned sad. “I’ll respect your need for privacy.” Standing again, she started to return to the front desk, then looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, in case you wanted to tell the Cattleman’s Club thank-you in person, this weekend they’re having a big cleanup in preparation for Christmas decorating.”

  * * *

  Whit couldn’t remember having a crummier Thanksgiving. Thank God it was finally over and he could spend the weekend helping out at the club with cleanup and decorating.

  His invitation to spend Thanksgiving with Megan and her daughter had been impulsive—he’d originally just planned to send some flowers as part of his gradual pursuit. So he’d been surprised at the level of disappointment when she’d turned him down for dinner. That frustration had gathered steam with each day he waited and she didn’t return his calls.

  His catered turkey meal had tasted like cardboard. He’d ended up donating the lot to a homeless shelter. There had been invitations from his buddies in the Cattleman’s Club to join them and their families for the holiday, but he hadn’t felt up to pretending. No doubt part of his bad mood could be chalked up to the memorial service planned for Craig next week.

  He just wasn’t up to being everyone’s pal today, either, but he’d promised to help and so many of them had chipped in to volunteer at the shelter. This club was the closest thing to family he had.

  Launched by some of the most powerful men in town, the Texas Cattleman’s Club had stood proud in Royal, Texas for more than a century. The TCC worked hard to help out in the community while also being a great place for members to get away from it all and to make contacts.

  To be invited into the TCC was a privilege and a life-long commitment. And for a man who’d grown up as rootless as he had, that word—commitment—was something he didn’t take lightly.

  He climbed a ladder to hook lights along a towering tree outside the main building, an old-world men’s club built around 1910. The tree was taller than the rambling single-story building constructed of dark stone and wood with a tall slate roof. Part of that roof had been damaged by the tornado, as were some of the outbuildings.

  Looking in through the wide windows, he could see other club members and their families decorating the main area, which had dark wood floors, big, leather-upholstered furniture and super-high ceilings. TCC president Gil Addison was leading a contingent carrying in the massive live tree to be used inside.

  What would Megan think of all the hunting trophies on the wall? He’d never thought to consider her feeling on that subject given her work in animal rescue. But he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t a deal breaker.

  He hooked his elbow on the top of the ladder, looking out over the stable, pool, tennis courts and a recently added playground. Evie would love this place. He could almost envision her in her tiara, fitting right in with the rest of the kids. Except a person had to be a member to have full use of the facilities.

  How had he gotten to the point in his mind where he was envisioning Evie and Megan here?

  “Whit?”

  A voice from below tugged his attention back to the present.

  He looked down to find one of his pals from the Dallas branch of the TCC, Aaron Nichols, partner in R&N Builders. Aaron had been overseeing the repairs to the club, but didn’t appear to be in any more of a merrymaking mood than Whit was. But then given the fact Aaron had lost both his wife and his kid in a car accident several years ago, Whit could see how holidays must be particularly tough.

  Which made him a first-class ass for feeling sorry for himself over being alone for Thanksgiving.

  Whit hooked the lights along the top of the tree, wrapping and draping. “Hey, buddy, what can I do for you?”

  Aaron handed up more lights, controlling the strand as it unrolled. “Just here to help. Shoot the breeze. Everyone’s asking about you inside.”

  “Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta take care of the tree out here.” That had always been Craig Richardson’s job.

  Aaron nodded with an understanding that didn’t have to be voiced. “Have fun on your big rescue mission?”

  As if Whit hadn’t been asked that question a million times already. Folks had expected him to bring Megan today. He’d entertained that notion himself while in Colorado, but she’d shut him down.

  “We helped place a lot of cats, eased the burden on the shelter. It was a good day.” He kept the answer brief and changed the subject. “Thanks for the cleanup at the shelter last weekend.” Whit hooked the light over a branch. “I appreciate so many of you pitching in.”

  “We help our own,” Aaron said with a military crispness he hadn’t lost in spite of getting out of the service. “We would have gone sooner if we’d realized how tough things were at the shelter.”

  And Megan wasn’t one to ask for help easily. He admired her independent spirit, her grit, the way she fought for her daughter and the animals. He just hadn’t realized how much he would flat-out enjoy being with her too.

  He hauled his attention back to the present rather than daydreaming like a lovesick teenager. “Everyone’s been up to their necks in repairs. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell where to start.”

  As he reached for Aaron to feed him more lights, Whit caught a glimpse of a car approaching with a woman at the wheel.

  There was a time when women weren’t allowed at the club unless they were accompanied by a male member. But a few years ago the TCC had started allowing women to join, a huge bone of contention that caused great friction in the organization.

  Now, however, almost ten percent of its members were females. Two years ago they’d added an on-site day-care center, which had created even greater discord. But this year, things had finally begun to settle down and feel normal for the TCC members. Watching everyone pull together today, Whit could see there was a real sense of camaraderie the club hadn’t experienced in a long time.

  So a woman coming to the club on her own wasn’t a surprise or big deal. Except this woman had unmistakably red hair. Whit knew her from gut instinct alone, if not sight. His pulse sped up and he decided that this time, he wouldn’t just bide his time. He’d known and wanted her for years. Aaron Nichols’s presence had served to remind him how fast second chances could be taken away.

  Whit tossed aside the strand of lights, leaving them tangled in the tree branches for now, and climbed down the ladder. Because he’d found the perfect distraction to lift his holiday mood and make him feel less like Scrooge.

  Megan Maguire had come to the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

 
; Six

  Megan told herself she was not coming to the Cattleman’s Club to see Whit. Absolutely not.

  Holding a Tupperware container full of homemade brownies, she exited her new-used compact purchased after the tornado took out her other car and hip-bumped the door closed.

  Evie had wanted to bake on Thanksgiving so they would be like a real family. Real? The comment had sent Megan into a frenetic Betty Crocker tailspin that produced dozens of brownies.

  She was proud of the life she’d built, damn it. She was an independent woman with a satisfying career and a great kid.

  This morning hadn’t been very easy though. Evie had thrown a screaming fit over the thought of wearing regular clothes to a playdate with Miss Abigail’s great nieces. The counseling videos and books recommended by the preschool director just weren’t working with Evie. Finally, Megan had surrendered to the request for a homemade costume made out of cut up sheets. In the big-picture view of things, it was most important that Evie wanted to play with other kids again without her mom present. But Megan had had to draw the line somewhere. When Evie had wanted to be a zombie, Megan suggested she be a mummy instead. Somehow a mummy princess seemed more benign than a zombie princess. What four-year-old knew about zombies?

  Megan adjusted her hold on the container of brownies and picked her way around the big trucks and SUVs in the parking lot. Halfway to the looming lodge, as she was passing a golf cart loaded down with fresh evergreen boughs and spools of red ribbon, she felt as if she was being watched. She tracked the sensation to a towering pine tree with a ladder beside it. Whit stood at the base, his boot on the bottom rung, Stetson tipped back on his head.

  Of course she’d known he would be here today.

  But she didn’t know what she would say to him. At all. She’d been off-kilter this week, questioning herself. She’d spent all of Thanksgiving imagining what it would have been like to share the day with him. Had he been alone on the holiday because of her decision?