Her Billionaire to Remember (A Texas Ranch Romance Book 5)

by Sophia Summers

  Introduction

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  Her Billionaire Cowboys Series:

  Her Billionaire Cowboy

  Her Billionaire Protector

  Her Billionaire in Hiding

  Her Billionaire Christmas Secret

  Her Billionaire to Remember

  The Swoony Sports Romances

  Hitching the Pitcher

  Falling for Centerfield

  Charming the Shortstop

  Snatching the Catcher

  Flirting with First

  Kissing on Third

  Her Billionaire Royals Series:

  The Heir

  The Crown

  The Duke

  The Duke’s Brother

  The Prince

  The American

  The Spy

  The Princess

  Her Love and Marriage Brides Series

  The Bride’s Secret

  Her Single Holiday Romances

  Taming Scrooge

  HER BILLIONAIRE TO REMEMBER

  SOPHIA SUMMERS

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  She could feel herself rising and falling in gentle waves as she became conscious. Where am I? She ran her tongue over her rough, sunbaked lips. The water rolled over her legs. Her first instinct was to try to pull herself further out of the water, but she couldn’t move. Her hands pulled at the slimy seaweed tentacles wrapped over her body and around her legs to gain her freedom but only managed to move a few inches. She shuddered, afraid of what she might find if her hands strayed too far from her side into the slime around her.

  After a moment of controlled breathing, trying to think through the fog in her brain, she tentatively moved her legs over what felt like a board of some kind. Coughing up more water from her lungs she opened her swollen eyes to the bright scorching sun; there was nothing but water everywhere she looked. What happened? Her breathing increased in fast choking gasps as her heart raced. A sharp pain in her head was the last thing she felt as she closed her eyes tight to the nightmare and fell unconscious.

  She slowly awoke to the sharp call of seagulls. Am I still on this floating nightmare? This has to be a bad dream. The pain in her head was searing. She gasped, the breath tearing at her dry throat as something brushed against her dangling foot. She quickly pulled her foot back up away from whatever that was.

  Lying on her stomach, she raised her head to look around at the seaweed and ocean debris that was keeping her from sinking into the depths below. She again tried to pull herself farther out of the water. Her breath, coming faster, sounded ragged to her own ears, and the dryness of her throat begged for a drop of water from the poisonous temptation all around her. She collapsed back exhausted and watched a seagull glide through the sky above her. She was mesmerized. She took comfort in the fact that she wasn’t entirely alone.

  The seagull kept circling closer and closer—until it landed on her leg, jerking her out of her momentary repose and back into her dire reality. She yelped in alarm as it screeched and flew away. I am going to die here. I have to do something. The pain in her head escalated sharply as she tried to lift herself up. Her limbs went limp as she fell back into darkness.

  The splash of a wave hit her in the face. The warm, salty water filled her nose, and she awoke sputtering. The first thing she noticed was a new sound: churning. She could hear churning. She tilted her head toward the sound. A fishing vessel idled close to her bed of safety.

  “Ella todavía está viva!” The seaweed that had entrapped her was cut away, and the men slowly lifted her to the deck of the boat and wrapped her with a blanket. She gasped in pain and then sighed in relief and gratitude.

  “Nos dirigiremos hacia atrás.” The men carefully picked her up again and carried her down to a cabin with a bed. The shivering started, and more blankets were put on her. A man carefully put water to her lips, and in spite of the pain, she drank thirstily. The warm cabin had a small kitchen with wood cabinets and a bunk. It smelled of fish and oil.

  I am safe. Her eyes closed, and she drifted warmly into sleep with a sigh.

  * * *

  When she woke, Spanish chatter filled the room around her, the sounds of people rushing in and out. A soft cloth was wiped across her forehead. “Lamento mucho.”

  A woman. She has gentle hands.

  The men returned and carefully lifted her from the bed to a cot. She bit her lip, trying to hold in the pain in her head as she was carried across a marsh and up a hill to a small house. Once inside, she was placed on a bed in one of the rooms. The women were chattering and following the men around, pointing. The men nodded and quickly moved as directed.

  After the men left, she opened her eyes again and gave a weak smile. She was in a small bedroom with colorful curtains over the small window. The walls were cement block painted bright yellow. Try as she would, she had no idea how she’d ended up floating in the ocean. She shuddered thinking how close to death she had been.

  A youth entered the room, looking embarrassed. The women pointed to the chair beside her bed, and he sat there.

  “Hello, I am Andrew. I speak a little English.” He smiled tentatively. “How are you feeling?” Andrew looked about 12 years old with dark curly hair and bright eyes.

  She smiled. “My head hurts. Where am I?”

  “You are on a small island in Uruguay. This is my parents’ home.”

  The women chattered at him.

  He waved a hand at them. “Do you have family close by? Were you on a ship?”

  Her heart started beating faster and her breathing grew shallow. “I—I don’t know!” She shut her eyes tight as tears welled up. A woman walked over to her bed and patted her arm.

  “What is your name?” Andrew continued.

  She considered this, a great dark pit opened up in her mind and she felt the cold of its depths on her face. The clutched at her blankets in fear, and she burst out in tears. “I don’t know my name! I don’t know who I am!”

  The women gathered around her, fussed and pointed at the boy, looking worried. She sobbed uncontrollably. Sheer panic rushed through her veins. “Who am I?”

  A woman sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand softly. The comfort helped her regain control and calm down. The woman handed her a tissue. Well, I am alive. At least I am alive. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, hoping her memory would soon return.

  The women were all talking fast and then turned to the boy, giving him direction. “I am to tell you not to worry,” the boy said. “You can stay here as long as you need to.” He pointed to one of the younger women. “My mother said she will take care of you. Her name is Marie.” From her bed, she could feel the goodness of these concerned women as they all chattered back and forth, now smiling. Marie came and sat down by her son as he translated for her. “Until you remember, we have given you a new name. Larina Maressa. It means seagull from the sea.”

  Larina smiled and repeated her name, “Larina Maressa.” She liked it.

  That night, Marie gave her a potent drink that helped ease the pain in her head, and she slept soundly.

  In the morning, she felt much better and was able to sit up. Marie came in a few minutes later. �
��Hola, Carrida.” She gave her some broth that smelled wonderful.

  Larina was starving but drank it down carefully. “Thank you so much.”

  She took inventory of her body, moving and flexing her legs and arms. She had sore muscles everywhere, but her head seemed to be her only injury. Looking at Marie, she estimated they were probably the same age, yet Marie was married with a growing boy already. She was a beautiful woman who had remained slim and trim. Her eyes were intelligent and kind, and Larina could see that she was well respected by the others.

  After Larina ate, Marie brought in fresh clothes and a towel and helped her walk to the shower. “This is wonderful, thank you.” A shower, was a longed for pleasure. She scrubbed all over briskly, trying to wash off her days drifting in the ocean—and hopefully the seaweed smell. Until her memory returned, Larina decided she had no choice but to begin again.

  The shower was great, but it was impossible to brush her hair—the salt and sun had transformed it into a tangled mat. She dressed and peeked out the door. “Do you have some scissors?” She made a cutting motion toward her hair.

  “Um momento.” Marie came in and had Larina sit on the toilet seat.

  Larina watched as eight inches of her snarled hair fell to the floor. Marie then carefully brushed her hair until the brush glided smoothly through to the middle of her back. She smiled down at Larina with a kind happy face.

  “Thank you, that is so much better.” Larina felt hopeful with Marie there to help her.

  Marie smiled, handed her an elastic, and left.

  She wondered if she had sisters hidden somewhere in her memory. Marie felt like one.

  Larina sat to put on shoes as she tried to remember. But all should could picture was an awful falling into blackness, and fear filled her mind. Instantly, her heart started racing, and she had trouble catching her breath. She started gasping for air as the panic coursed through her. She tried slowing her breathing and forcing herself to calm down. She gripped the hair brush until her knuckles turned white. Hunched over she tried to keep from passing out. She tried slowing her breathing and after what seemed like forever was able to breathe normally again. What happened to me?

  Chapter 2

  Shane stretched in the early light and turned over as his horse continued to nuzzle his neck. “Jasper, just give me a few more minutes.”

  It was damp in the mornings out on the range. The dew left everything wet. It seemed to be the only moisture this land received during the summer months. Shane rolled over and got up and stretched. He grabbed his jacket from the tree limb where he had thrown it the night before, shaking off the beads of dew before shrugging it on.

  Shane often took his horse to check the cattle in the hills of his ranch. He could have easily taken the Jeep to save time, or even one of the biplanes they had for forestry sprays, but the truth was, he enjoyed getting away for a few days. It gave him time to think.

  His parent’s had been putting pressure on him to move forward in his life. In other words, find and marry a suitable wife and have some children. They had a legacy to pass along.

  “Shane, you are all we have left,” they were fond of saying. “Your brothers threw away the lives we gave them.” Unfortunately, of their three sons, Shane was the only one left. Both of his older brothers had died in a car accident. They were very rich and had overindulged. Their short lives had been spent with fast cars and riotous living.

  Shane was a late baby. His childhood years were very different than his older brothers’. He’d had rules. Any time he even mentioned going outside of the boundaries, alarms went off in his parents’ heads. .

  His father had graduated from Harvard Business School. He invested wisely in the stock market and his land, and the returns came in. Over the years he’d purchased neighboring ranches as they went belly up. Now their ranch acreage was in the thousands. His marketing skills helped him get the best contracts for the beef they raised, and his business acumen led him to diversify into ranch-related businesses so that, at this point, his father was right when he said they had built an amazing legacy to pass on to their posterity.

  Shane wondered if his father loved the land, or if the land was just a means to an end: wealth in the billions.

  Shane rolled his sleeping bag and packed up his cooking utensils. “Okay, Jasper, we have to head back now.” He was not looking forward to returning home. His parents would be at it again as soon as he got back. Their legacy needed posterity. He had managed to foil their plans to marry him off up through his mid-twenties, but as each birthday passed, the pressure increased. He was starting to empathize with his thoroughbreds. He had big breeding plans for his horses—but his parents had a breeding program of their own going on.

  Shane took his time riding Jasper down the canyon and through the plains. It was beautiful, watching the wind push the grasses on the hillside. The waves of hay were soothing to watch. He turned to look back at the forested hillsides he was leaving behind, appreciating their beauty. A herd of antelope grazed at the mouth of the canyon. Looking ahead to acres and acres of prime grazing land filled him with gratitude for his ancestors and the lives they gave to this land.

  It took all day to arrive back home. He was just in time for the dinner his parents had planned. “Okay, Jasper, we have procrastinated long enough.” He rode over to the original homestead, built by his grandparents, and gave his horse to Cliff, the ranch hand.

  His parents had built an 8,000 square-foot mansion equipped with pools and manicured gardens and large transplanted trees. He preferred living in the smaller, restful home of his ancestors. Mostly he preferred the privacy.

  The minute he walked in the door, his phone rang. “Hello, Mother, what time is dinner?”

  “Dinner is at seven, but Clarisse is here already, and I was hoping you could give her a tour of the stables.”

  Shane sighed. “I am just jumping into the shower, Mom. I will be over in a half hour.” Clarisse was a nice enough person. She probably didn’t want to be here anymore than he wanted her here.

  Shane laughed. The best laid plans of parents. Did they not see how ridiculous this was? Clarisse had chosen the path his older brothers had taken. In his opinion, she was rich and spoiled and wild. Why his parents thought she would be a good match, when during high school he wasn’t allowed to even attend her parties, he couldn’t fathom. They must be getting desperate.

  Shane put on a good pair of Levis and a western shirt and headed over to the big house. Clarisse was sitting on the porch, smoking.

  “Hey, Clarisse, how’s it going?” He sat upwind from her to avoid most of her smoke.

  “Well, Shane, I am missing a great concert in Las Vegas right now, but my purse strings were threatened if I didn’t attend this evening.” She took another long drag on her cigarette and threw it on the porch, looking at him with disdain.

  “Sorry about that, Clarisse, but this has nothing to do with me. I don’t know what our parents are thinking.”

  Clarisse sat up, a little huffy. “It’s obvious they want us ‘moving forward’ in our lives. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard that phrase.” Clarisse stood up. “I know you don’t particularly like me, Shane. I don’t like you either. You might be the best looking guy I’ve met, but you are so dull and boring. No offense.”

  “None taken. Now that we’re clear, let’s go have dinner and try not to ruin our parents’ hopes while we’re at it.” Shane smirked.

  During dinner, Shane enjoyed talking with Clarisse’s father about horse breeding. “I’m heading down to Argentina to look at some stallions,” Shane said. “The polo ponies they raise are remarkable. I might consider breeding them here.”

  Clarisse’s father leaned toward Shane. “That’s a big plan you have, Shane. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” Clarisse’s uncle was the governor. He could use some of that kind of help.

  “Thank you, I might be talking to you as I progress in my plans.”

  Shane walked Claris
se out to the porch after they said their goodbyes to their families. He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes at him. At least they totally understood each other—mutual dislike.

  Chapter 3

  Larina walked out to the porch as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. There were two old, worn wooden chairs leaning up against the cinder-block wall. She was happy to be outside as she settled into one of the chairs to rest.

  From the porch, she could see a small mountain range on the far side of the island. Jungle foliage covered the landscape with clusters of bright flowers.

  “Wait, those are parrots.” Well this is South America. I suppose I should expect to see parrots flocking from tree to tree like blackbirds or sparrows. She smiled at the sight. Gentle ocean waves pushed through the marshy grasses in the shallow portion of the inlet. Two old fishing boats next to the dock slowly rose and fell with the waves. The fields toward the hills were rich with green grasses where horses were grazing. Her heart gave a pang of longing as she watched them. Some were stretched out, lying down like they were sunbathing. Others were rolling over in the grass, stretching their legs out until they plopped over to the other side. She coveted their carefree leisure; this was not her life now.

  From the side of the house, she heard a horse whinnying in distress. She stood up and walked toward the sound. She saw men standing around the corral, watching as a young man worked with a beautiful stallion. The horse was a deep roan red with white mane and tail. The man tried walking toward the horse, holding a rope with both hands. The horse became more and more agitated the closer he got. His head jerked away, his eyes wide with fear as he backed into the corral fence.

  Larina walked over to the corral and watched, growing alarmed. They are scaring this beautiful stallion. She felt drawn to him and couldn’t help herself as she reached out her hand toward the stallion. He snorted and stomped his feet but then calmly walked over to her and let her rub his neck. The other cowboys around the corral started talking excitedly and nodding back and forth to each other. Andrew ran into the barn bringing his father back out with him. “Hola, Larina. My father wants to know how you did that.”