Texas Millionaire Read online

  This month, in TEXAS MILLIONAIRE by Dixie Browning, meet oil baron Henry “Hank” Langley, owner of the prestigious Texas Cattleman’s Club. Nothing fazes Hank, not even the dangerous secret mission he’s about to undertake, until…homemaker-at-heart Callie Riley—a fresh-faced, understated, younger beauty—walks into his life!

  SILHOUETTE DESIRE IS PROUD TO PRESENT THE

  Five wealthy Texas bachelors—all members of the state’s most exclusive club—set out on a mission to rescue a princess…and find true love.

  * * *

  And don’t miss CINDERELLA’S TYCOON by Caroline Cross, next month’s installment of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, available in Silhouette Desire!

  Dear Reader,

  Silhouette Desire matches August’s steamy heat with six new powerful, passionate and provocative romances.

  Popular Elizabeth Bevarly offers That Boss of Mine as August’s MAN OF THE MONTH. In this irresistible romantic comedy, a CEO falls for his less-than-perfect secretary.

  And Silhouette Desire proudly presents a compelling new series, TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB. The members of this exclusive club are some of the Lone Star State’s sexiest, most powerful men, who go on a mission to rescue a princess and find true love! Bestselling author Dixie Browning launches the series with Texas Millionaire, in which a fresh-faced country beauty is wooed by an older man.

  Cait London’s miniseries THE BLAYLOCKS continues with Rio: Man of Destiny, in which the hero’s love leads the heroine to the truth of her family secrets. The BACHELOR BATTALION miniseries by Maureen Child marches on with Mom in Waiting. An amnesiac woman must rediscover her husband in Lost and Found Bride by Modean Moon. And Barbara McCauley’s SECRETS! miniseries offers another scandalous tale with Secret Baby Santos.

  August also marks the debut of Silhouette’s original continuity THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS with Maggie Shayne’s Million Dollar Marriage, available now at your local retail outlet.

  So indulge yourself this month with some poolside reading—the first of THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS, and all six Silhouette Desire titles!

  Enjoy!

  Joan Marlow Golan

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  Texas Millionaire

  Dixie Browning

  For fellow Cattleman’s Club members Caroline Cross, Peggy Moreland, Metsy Hingle and Cindy Gerard. Ladies, I’ll ride the range with you anytime! Move ‘em out!

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Dixie Browning for her contribution to the Texas Cattleman’s Club miniseries.

  Books by Dixie Browning

  Silhouette Desire

  Shadow of Yesterday #68

  Image of Love #91

  The Hawk and the Honey #111

  Late Rising Moon #121

  Stormwatch #169

  The Tender Barbarian #188

  Matchmaker’s Moon #212

  A Bird in the Hand #234

  In the Palm of Her Hand #264

  A Winter Woman #324

  There Once Was a Lover #337

  Fate Takes a Holiday #403

  Along Came Jones #427

  Thin Ice #474

  Beginner’s Luck #517

  Ships in the Night #541

  Twice in a Blue Moon #588

  Just Say Yes #637

  Not a Marrying Man #678

  Gus and the Nice Lady #691

  Best Man for the Job #720

  Hazards of the Heart #780

  Kane’s Way #801

  *Keegan’s Hunt #820

  *Lucy and the Stone #853

  *Two Hearts, Slightly Used #890

  †Alex and the Angel #949

  †The Beauty, the Beast and the Baby #985

  The Baby Notion #1011

  †Stryker’s Wife #1033

  Look What the Stork Brought #1111

  ‡The Passionate G-Man #1141

  ‡A Knight in Rusty Armor #1195

  Texas Millionaire #1232

  Silhouette Yours Truly

  Single Female (Reluctantly) Seeks…

  *Outer Banks

  †Tall, Dark and Handsome

  ‡The Lawless Heirs

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Finders Keepers #50

  Reach Out To Cherish #110

  Just Deserts #181

  Time and Tide #205

  By Any Other Name #228

  The Security Man #314

  Belonging #414

  Silhouette Romance

  Unreasonable Summer #12

  Tumbled Wall #38

  Chance Tomorrow #53

  Wren of Paradise #73

  East of Today #93

  Winter Blossom #113

  Renegade Player #142

  Island on the Hill #164

  Logic of the Heart #172

  Loving Rescue #191

  A Secret Valentine #203

  Practical Dreamer #221

  Visible Heart #275

  Journey to Quiet Waters #292

  The Love Thing #305

  First Things Lost #323

  Something for Herself #381

  Reluctant Dreamer #460

  A Matter of Timing #527

  The Homing Instinct #747

  Silhouette Books

  Silhouette Christmas Stories 1987

  “Henry the Ninth”

  Spring Fancy 1994

  “Grace and the Law”

  World’s Most Eligible Bachelors

  ‡His Business, Her Baby

  DIXIE BROWNING

  celebrates her sixty-fifth book for Silhouette with the publication of Texas Millionaire. She has also written a number of historical romances with her sister under the name Bronwyn Williams. A charter member of Romance Writers of America, and a member of Novelists, Inc., Dixie has won numerous awards for her work. She divides her time between WinstonSalem and the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

  “What’s Happening in Royal?”

  NEWS FLASH, August 1999—The town of Royal, TX, is all abuzz as to which society beauty Hank Langley, the owner of the prestigious Texas Cattleman’s Club, will take to the annual Cattleman’s Ball. Will it be socialite Pansy Ann Estrich? Or glamour girl Bianca Mullins? And will his date become the future Mrs. Langley?

  And speaking of women in the wealthy Mr. Langley’s life, who is Callie Riley, his new young secretary, who’s just appeared on the scene?

  Rumors are also running rampant about some late-night meetings at the Texas Cattleman’s Club. What could be brewing among the members? Stay tuned…

  One

  Boot heels propped on the polished walnut windowsill, Hank Langley watched a small jet plane cross his field of vision with deceptive slowness. Absently he tugged up his pants leg and massaged the expanse of scarred, muscular flesh between the top of his custom-made boot and the bottom of his custom-tailored jeans.

  He ached. Damn front coming through. If it would bring rain, it would be worth the ache, but it hadn’t rained enough to lay the dust all year. August was August. West Texas was West Texas.

  And hot was hot.

  Miss Manie rapped once on his door and entered. She was scrupulous about affording him a five-second warning, in case he was up to God knows what behind closed doors.

  “You’re hurting again, aren’t you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Don’t you tell me one of your teewydies, young man, you were out until all hours, giving that limb of yours a fit, weren’t you?”

  Teewydie was Romania Riley’s euphemism for a polite lie. Evidently it was a Carolina thing. Hank had neve
r heard anyone from Texas use the term. “You know where I was. You know who I was with. If you want a blow-by-blow account, grab yourself a tall, cold beer and take a seat.”

  He’d been out with Pansy Ann Estrich, as Manie damned well knew. Wining and dining her, trying to work himself up to committing to something he was nowhere ready to commit to, for no better reason than it was time—it was past time—and the choice had narrowed down to two women. Pansy and Bianca Mullins. Both women were in their middle thirties. Both knew the score. Neither was looking for more in a relationship than he was capable of offering. Personally he thought it was a pretty good deal. Sex, of course. Security, insured by a prenuptial agreement that was fair to both parties. Companionship, and at least one, preferably two, offspring. Preferably male.

  “Well?” Miss Manie’s wattles quivered as she waited for enlightenment.

  “Well?” Hank tossed back at her.

  “Don’t get smart with me, Henry Langley. I knew you back when you couldn’t step out the front door without running head-on into trouble.” She glared at him through the upper half of her bifocals, then glanced down at her notes. “Speaking of trouble, Miss Pansy was on the phone first thing this morning about the Cattleman’s Ball. You didn’t ask her last night, did you?”

  “Ask her which, to the ball or to marry me?”

  She gave him a look she’d perfected before he’d ever been born. Manie was going to be a problem, no matter which woman he married. “The answer to both questions,” he said dryly, “is not yet.”

  He had to be the only six-foot-two, ex-special services millionaire in Texas who allowed himself to be pushed around by ninety-odd pounds of outspoken spinster.

  “I wouldn’t jump into anything too fast, if I were you. There’s plenty of time. Oh, and while I’ve got you, Preacher Weldon wants to know about the belfry, and they were short of red roses at the florist, so I sent Bianca pink ones, instead. If you ask me, she was hoping for something a lot more substantial than a bunch of flowers.”

  Hank refrained from sighing. He’d gone out with Bianca Mullins three times last week, exploring the possibility of spending the rest of his life with a woman who had the body of a centerfold and the brain of a high school dropout.

  At least she had a sense of humor. Pansy didn’t.

  He flexed his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension, stroked his pants leg down to cover his scarred flesh and swung his feet down off the windowsill. Miss Manie had lectured him more than a few times about his habit of plopping his feet on the furniture, but dammit, it was his furniture, his office—damned near his town.

  And he ached. His left leg still carried a few pieces of scrap metal from the crash that ended his military career. It caused some problems with airport security, but otherwise, it was no big deal unless there was a sudden drop in barometric pressure. According to the team of surgeons who had worked him over, retrieving every last fragment would have caused more damage than it was worth.

  That was a matter of opinion, but he willingly accepted responsibility for the occasional ache. He’d been the one to run off and join the Air Force against his parents’ wishes. Back in those days he’d been into rebellion, big time.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly. “I’ll deal with Pansy and Bianca, you can tell the reverend to call in his carpenters, and pink ones are fine, unless you know something about the language of flowers that’s going to land me in trouble.”

  “Hmmph. Nobody these days pays any attention to that kind of thing. Leastwise, none of those women of yours.”

  “You make it sound like I’m supporting a harem.”

  Saved by the bell. Hank had two cell phones and a private line, but most calls were routed through Miss Manie’s desk. On the second ring, Manie said, “I’d better get that, it’s probably the kitchen about those temporaries we’re fixing to hire for the ball, but remind me to tell you about my great-niece when you have a minute.”

  Her great-niece? What, had the kid graduated from high school or something? He’d send her the usual. There was always somebody on his staff with a kid graduating from somewhere. Manie could handle it. She always handled the personal side of his life. Not that her relatives were his personal business. He hadn’t even known, except in the vaguest terms, that she had any relatives left back in North Carolina. Considering how long she’d been a part of his life, he knew surprisingly little about the woman who served as conscience, security guard, surrogate mother and outspoken personal assistant, other than the fact that her only brother had died a year or so ago.

  One more testimony to what a self-centered bastard he was.

  The streak of dirty tan sky that showed between the linen drapes grew paler as the wind picked up, blowing clouds of sand and salt from the dry bed of Salt Lake. “Rain, dammit,” Hank grumbled. “Go ahead, cut loose. I dare you.”

  He was limping. He almost never limped. Hated any sign of weakness, in fact. But then, when a man was facing middle age, it was only natural that he began to show a few signs of wear and tear.

  Pity he had so damned little else to show for his years, but he was working on it. He’d given himself until his rapidly approaching fortieth birthday to settle the course of his future.

  He took Pansy Estrich to dinner again that night, because she’d waited until Miss Manie had left for the day and poked her head into his private office, offering him one of her winsome smiles. “Hank, can we talk?”

  He’d been looking forward to a long, hot soak in the king-size bathtub he’d had installed a few years ago, followed by a double order of his chefs garlic-grilled gulf shrimp, a fine cigar, a stiff drink and good night’s sleep.

  Fat chance. Until he came to a decision, talking to either woman was risky business. He was still hovering on the brink of making a decision, and dammit, he refused to be shoved. But he said, “Give me time to wind up some business, and we’ll have dinner. Pick you up in an hour?”

  “Why don’t I just browse the shops and then come back?”

  “Fine. Meet you downstairs in one hour.”

  Hank lived above the sprawling, exclusive gentlemen’s club his grandfather, Henry “Tex” Langley, had established nearly ninety years ago. He maintained an office there, with an anteroom office for Manie, the only woman with free access into his private domain. For a single businessman it was an ideal setup, but if he chose to marry, he was going to have to make some changes. Wives were territorial. Neither of the two finalists liked Manie, and the feeling was entirely mutual.

  Besides, the club was no place to raise a family. Despite the ladies’ parlor his father had set aside, it was still primarily a male domain, and Hank intended to enjoy it until the bitter end.

  “Or I could wait for you up here,” Pansy said hopefully.

  He nearly blurted, Good God, are you still here? “Thanks, but old Tex would roll over in his grave.” Hank knew better than to set any precedents. Give a woman an inch and the rest was history.

  For the next forty-five minutes he played phone tag with club member Greg Hunt, who’d left a cryptic message earlier, talked to his broker, to the head of his accounting firm and to the chief designer at the avionics firm that built his new Avenger with a suggestion for making the flight deck more pilot-friendly.

  Through it all, the feeling of being in the crosshairs persisted. Being a matrimonial target was nothing new to a bachelor pushing forty who happened to be the sole owner of the exclusive Texas Cattleman’s Club as well as the state’s biggest oil baron, according to a prominent financial journalist.

  All the same, there were days when he felt like nothing so much as a side of fresh beef thrown into a pool filled with hungry sharks.

  Oil baron. He hated the sound of it, but it had been applied to the men of his family for three generations. It had started out way back in the early part of the century when Langley One had blown in, followed within the week by three more, all flowing at better than ninety barrels per day. His father, Henry, Jr., had expanded the
family business by leasing drilling rights all across the south, including the Gulf of Mexico. Some were still operative, but only about ten percent of the Langley wealth was tied up in oil at the moment. Most of Hank’s investments were in technology, Texas having already moved ahead of Silicon Valley in the computer field.

  But wealth was wealth and women were women, and regardless of his decision that it was time to marry if he ever intended to, Hank had no intention of going meekly to the highest bidder.

  At Claire’s, the town’s finest French restaurant, Hank ordered his usual rare sirloin with a side of lobster, hold the fancy sauces. Pansy, wearing a casual outfit the color of dry sand that matched her hair perfectly, spent fifteen minutes poring over the menu, then ordered her usual Bloody Mary, snails in plain butter, salad with extra dressing, fresh croissants and diet soda.

  The long-suffering waiter nodded, and Hank gave him a look of silent commiseration.

  Pansy wanted to talk about the club’s annual ball. “You didn’t invite Bianca, did you? She said you hadn’t.”

  “I’ve been too busy worrying with the business end to think about the personal end.” It was no less than the truth. He’d had a steady stream of charities in and out of his office for the past couple of weeks, eager to hop aboard before the train left the station. Fund-raising was the biggest growth industry in town, and the club’s annual ball was the charity event of the year, the proceeds being divided among a varying, carefully selected list of local charities.