by Linda Warren
“I believe we were meant to be here together.”
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything.
“Out here you’re not my boss. We’re just a man and a woman. Alone. The rest of the world doesn’t exist.”
She was tempting him and any other time, any other place she would know this was wrong. They might not have a tomorrow, so she was taking today.
The right or wrong would come later.
“Oh, Cari.” Reed’s voice was a throaty whisper, his eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them.
She kissed his lips gently, the touch of his beard arousing. “This is here. This is now. I love you and I want you to make love to me.”
Dear Reader,
When I wrote The Christmas Cradle (AR, November 2004) I never thought I’d write spin-off books, but I did—The Cowboy’s Return (AR, February 2006) and Once a Cowboy (AR, February 2007). Then came an idea for another, rather unusual, spin-off story about Cari Michaels and Reed Preston.
Reed is CEO of a family-owned Texas chain of department stores. Cari has worked her way up the corporate ladder to vice president. Somewhere along the way she’s fallen in love with her handsome boss. When Reed announces his engagement, Cari is devastated. After a scheduled trip to an El Paso store, she plans to turn in her resignation. Then the unthinkable happens—the plane crashes in desolate west Texas. They are the only two survivors.
Their dire situation causes Cari and Reed to take a good look at their lives and at each other. Suddenly they can see what’s important to them. But is it real? Or is it something fabricated from the tragedy? You’ll have to keep reading to find out.
This was a difficult story to write, yet I enjoyed it immensely. I hope you do, as well. As the saying goes, hold on, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
With love and thanks,
Linda Warren
P.S. It always brightens my day to hear from readers. You can e-mail me at [email protected] or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my Web site at www.lindawarren.net or www.myspace.com/authorlindawarren. Your letters will be answered.
Texas Heir
LINDA WARREN
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning, bestselling author Linda Warren has written twenty-one books for Harlequin Superromance and Harlequin American Romance. She grew up in the farming and ranching community of Smetana, Texas, the only girl in a family of boys. She loves to write about Texas, and from time to time scenes and characters from her childhood show up in her books. Linda lives in College Station, Texas, not far from her birthplace, with her husband, Billy, and a menagerie of wild animals, from Canada geese to bobcats. Visit her Web site at www.lindawarren.net.
Books by Linda Warren
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1042—THE CHRISTMAS CRADLE
1089—CHRISTMAS, TEXAS STYLE “Merry Texmas”
1102—THE COWBOY’S RETURN
1151—ONCE A COWBOY
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1125—THE WRONG WOMAN
1167—A BABY BY CHRISTMAS
1221—THE RIGHT WOMAN
1250—FORGOTTEN SON
1314—ALL ROADS LEAD TO TEXAS
1354—SON OF TEXAS
1375—THE BAD SON
1440—ADOPTED SON
1470—TEXAS BLUFF
1499—ALWAYS A MOTHER
A special thanks to Gary Simmons
for being so generous in sharing his knowledge of
private jets and aircraft. And to Sara Schroeder for
sharing her visit to west Texas. Also, to Jane Pearce
for graciously giving me a Spanish lesson.
And lastly, to Pam Litton, Lee Dewbre,
Linda Stewart, Linda Hermes and
Colleen Thompson for offering help when
I needed it the most. All errors are strictly mine.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Cari Michaels was having a “take two Tylenol” type of day.
And it was only five minutes to eight.
With tires squealing, she swerved into her parking spot with the speed and arrogance of her sixteen-year-old nephew. She had five minutes to make the executive meeting on time.
Why was Reed Dalton Preston, CEO of Dalton’s Department Stores, calling an impromptu gathering of his executives this early? The one morning her alarm clock chose to die.
Seconds ticked away.
No sweat. She’d make it.
Thrusting the gearshift into Park, she turned off the engine and grabbed her purse and briefcase. Then she was off at a run for the elevator, her heels tapping in three-quarter time across the pavement in the parking garage. She prayed Homer, the elevator operator, was waiting with the door open.
He was. She could see his smiling round face, and then she heard a snap. The next thing she knew she was kissing hard, dirty concrete. She moaned as burning needles of pain shot through her knee and elbow.
Damn! Damn! Damn!
Her day just got worse.
“Ms. Cari, are you okay?” Through a wave of humiliation she heard Homer’s worried voice and rolled to her feet faster than a quarterback nailed for a loss.
“Yes, Homer. I’m fine.” She brushed off her black Prada pantsuit and took a deep breath. “Just broke a heel.” She raised her foot to remove the offending shoe and held it up, but she didn’t have a moment to chat. Time was running out and she knew she’d get “The Look” from Reed if she slid into her seat one second late.
Homer picked up her briefcase and purse and handed them to her with a concerned look in his eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, and hobbled into the elevator. “Can you make Louise fly?”
“No, ma’am,” Homer replied, adjusting his bellman’s cap with the Dalton logo on it. “She only goes one speed.” Homer was mentally challenged and he took his job seriously. He’d named the elevator Louise and sometimes he stayed until every executive was out of the building because he didn’t like anyone pushing Louise’s buttons but him. Everyone loved Homer, including Cari.
As the elevator smoothly glided upward she removed her other heel. Being just five feet three inches tall, she really needed the heels for the extra confidence-boosting height.
Glancing down, she saw she’d ripped her slacks at the knee. There was also dirt on her cobalt-blue silk blouse. Great. Now she was going to look like a street urchin, but she wasn’t missing the meeting.
Elevator music, Bach or Beethoven or something, played in the background and it started to get on her nerves. Why was this thing going so slow? Louise needed a checkup.
“My mama says it doesn’t matter what you look like as long as you have a good heart.” Homer’s bit of wisdom made Cari wonder if she looked that bad.
“You have a good heart, Ms. Cari.”
“Thank you, Homer. So do you.”
The doors opened. She smiled at Homer a second before she dashed out and down the hall to the private door of he
r office.
Homer’s “Have a good day” followed her.
She threw the shoes and her briefcase onto her desk and took a moment to glance at herself in the mirror by the door. Slipping her purse strap over her shoulder, she ran her fingers through her short, blow-and-go, dark brown hair. At the moment it was more blow than go.
Her sister, the beautician, had talked her into the style. Chic and stylish, Kitty had said—just what Cari needed for her busy lifestyle. Shaking her head, she hoped her hair looked chic instead of looking more like it had been cut with a weed-eater.
And who’s going to notice, she asked herself as she darted out the door to the boardroom. Certainly not Reed Preston. Cari remembered vividly the first time she had seen Reed. He and Richard Preston, his father, were making a tour of the store, something Mr. Preston didn’t do too often. But Reed was home for the summer from the University of Texas and Mr. Preston was priming him to take over the reins of Dalton’s. Everyone had been on their toes, watching their p’s and q’s for the momentous occasion.
She’d been a naive, gauche teenager determined to make something of her life away from the small farm where she’d been raised. When she looked at Reed, she saw everything she’d been looking for and everything she could never have. He was tall with dark hair and warm, brown eyes. Cari knew Reed was as far out of her reach as Prince William. Not that she wanted the prince, but that’s how she thought of Reed—as the Prince of Dalton’s.
So did a lot of other women.
She kept her feelings secret. No one knew how she felt about Reed except Marisa Kincaid, Reed’s sister, a woman whose struggles with her difficult, demanding family had put her in desperate need of a good friend.
When Marisa was seventeen she’d fallen in love with a rodeo cowboy, Colter Kincaid. Marisa was in training to be a concert pianist and her involvement with Colter was unacceptable to the Prestons. With lies and threats her family had broken them up, but Marisa soon discovered she was pregnant. Unable to locate Colter, Marisa had to deal with her parents alone. She refused abortion and adoption, intending to keep her baby. She had underestimated her parents, though.
Marisa had problems with the pregnancy, so the Prestons devised a plan. They told their daughter the baby was stillborn. In truth, they had called Colter and offered him the baby. For years Marisa grieved for her child. At the time she lived with her mother in New York, and she sank into deep depression, unable to play the piano. Her father had brought her to Texas to heal.
Once Marisa was in Texas, the lies and deceit began to unravel. Marisa found out her daughter was very much alive. It had taken a while, but she and Colter had fallen in love again, too. It hadn’t been an easy time and Cari had been there for Marisa when she’d needed to talk. Cari admitted their friendship had undoubtedly helped her gain a vice presidency at Dalton’s, but she also had earned it.
She had realized at an early age that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life as a salesclerk and, with four siblings, her parents couldn’t afford to send her to college or even junior college. So that first year she’d saved every dime she could and took night courses at a junior college, finally finishing up her business degree at the University of Texas in Dallas while continuing to work for Dalton’s.
When she entered the boardroom, Cari summoned her years of experience and quietly took her seat at the polished oak table, which could seat twenty people. The paneling on the walls was made of the same vibrant wood, trimmed in an ornate, hand-carved pattern unlike anything Cari had ever seen. Photos of all the stores across Texas, as well as the store’s founder, Harold Dalton, hung on the walls. The first time Cari had stepped into this room the sight of it had taken her breath away.
An arrangement of white irises and lavender lilacs took pride of place in the center of the table. Fresh flowers always adorned this room. Their delicate fragrance drifted to her and Cari relaxed, uncaring that her slacks were torn and her blouse was dirty.
The executive team had already taken their seats and Reed stood at the head of the table, looking directly at her. She stared back at him. Yet those honey brown eyes didn’t waver for a second.
Nor did hers.
“Nice of you to join us, Ms. Michaels,” he said in his deep, smooth voice that usually curled her toes into her shoes. Since she wasn’t wearing shoes, her toes curled against the polished hardwood floor that felt cool to her stocking feet.
She smiled sweetly, not rising to the bait.
“I know you’re wondering why I called this meeting.” Reed turned his attention elsewhere and she let out her breath, not even realizing she was holding it. Her elbow was throbbing and she just wanted to go to her office and regroup for the day. She was sure she’d left her pride somewhere on that garage floor and she desperately needed to get it back.
George, the man on her right, sat with a pen in his hand ready to jot down every word out of Reed’s mouth. Mike, across from her, was poised the same way. Cari’s pen was in her purse and she didn’t see the need to fish for it. Reed’s personal assistant always sent memos just in case anyone missed anything.
“I’ll make this short,” Reed said. “I know you’re eager to get back to your jobs. Or at least I hope you are.”
That caused a round of muffled laughter.
Cari took a moment to study Reed. In jeans, a crisp white shirt, a lightweight sports jacket and cowboy boots—she couldn’t see them but she knew he always wore custom-made Kincaid boots—he appeared to have stepped out of the pages of Texas Monthly magazine. His tall lean frame showed off the clothes, but there was something about him that bespoke power and wealth. Maybe it was the way he looked directly into your eyes. Or that strong chin. Or that razzle-dazzle, made-for-Hollywood smile. Or an elusive quality that was embedded in the way he moved and spoke.
But to her it was none of those things. She admired the man within, the man who was striving to prove to his father he could run Dalton’s with strength and compassion. Reed was more involved with his employees than Mr. Preston had ever been. Homer had a job because of Reed. Mr. Preston would never have allowed Homer to be hired.
Reed had new ideas and a new way of doing business. It was showing results. Profits were at an all-time high and Cari enjoyed working with her boss, being on his team. But she wondered if he’d ever see her as a woman.
A desirable woman.
At thirty-four, marriage and family were becoming important to her. If she kept waiting for Reed Preston, her biological clock was going to spit and sputter and run out of time.
“I wanted to let my executive team know before the news hits the papers,” Reed was saying. “Daphne Harwood and I are engaged. We’re planning an early spring wedding.”
What did he say?
People jumped up, shaking his hand and congratulating him. Cari felt herself turning to stone. All her dreams, everything she’d ever hoped for, ended in that moment. Somewhere within her she found the strength to get to her feet. She had to. She was a professional.
Without shoes.
Was there something symbolic in that? What could it be? If Reed had a glass slipper, she definitely had a foot to put in it. A bubble of hysterical laughter rose in her throat and she immediately pushed it down.
“I would like for you to meet her. She’s waiting in my office.” He pushed a button on the phone to his left and then glanced at them. “Please make her feel welcome.” Reed motioned to someone at the door and a goddess walked in. That was the only way to describe Reed’s fiancée, Daphne. Tall, with champagne-blond hair and gorgeous blue eyes, Daphne’s body was a perfect ten on anyone’s scale.
Even Cari’s.
Where in the hell did she come from? Marisa hadn’t mentioned Reed was dating anyone special. Reed’s dating life was a revolving door of beautiful women. No one had told her the door had stopped revolving. When did this happen?
Reed was introducing Daphne to each person and explaining their job. Oh great! She stood on her tiptoes, not that that
was going to help her height a lot. Why did she have to break her damn heel?
There wasn’t enough Tylenol in the world to fix this day.
Or her broken heart.
She braced herself as they approached.
“This is Cari Michaels, vice president,” Reed said. “She’s basically my right hand. I can always depend on Cari to—” he noticed her shoeless feet and torn slacks “—what happened?”
“Nothing.” She brushed his concern away. “I took a tumble in the garage and broke a heel, that’s all.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Daphne said in a silky voice that managed to rub against Cari’s nerves like coarse burlap.
“Yes,” Reed said. “That’s a good idea.”
“No.” Cari felt dwarfed and insignificant by the tall goddess and Reed standing side by side. They reminded her of a model bride and groom atop a wedding cake. “I’m fine, really.” She held out her hand. As their palms touched, she noted Daphne’s fingers were soft, fragile almost, but that’s not what held Cari’s attention. It was the large diamond sparkling on her left hand. “It’s nice to meet you and I wish you both the very best.”
She moved away as quickly as possible, her words ringing in her ears. She prayed they’d sounded normal. She could be a sore loser if she had ever been in the game, but she had never even walked onto the field.
Only in her dreams.
“Cari.” Reed caught up with her at the door. “Our plane leaves at one. Will you be ready? We can postpone the trip if you’re not up to it.”
Good heavens, the morning’s events had caused the scheduled September trip to the El Paso store to slip her mind. Her overnight bag was in her car, so her amnesia was only temporary. Reed made random visits to all the stores. He kept an up-close-and-personal connection with every store manager. They were all eager to please him.