Texas Millionaire Read online

  They both answered at once. Callie said it was on sale, Hank said it was yellow and Manie shook her head. “You went right out and bought the cheapest thing in town, didn’t you?”

  The two women talked about her gown some more, until Hank took pity on Callie and changed the subject. She was blushing. He hadn’t known women still blushed. None of the ones he knew did. Or if they did, they wore enough makeup to cover it.

  It was nearly two when they left, having devoured the chicken and salad Callie had brought, along with Texas cantaloupes, fresh rolls and iced tea. Manie hadn’t urged them to stay, although Hank wanted to meet this Jones woman who’d had a meeting on Thursday and had to meet a party at the airport today. She was beginning to seem a little too elusive to suit him.

  But Manie was looking tired, so Rosa, the housekeeper, brought Callie her basket, the napkin folded neatly inside, and showed them out. When Callie mentioned Miss Jones, and how much they appreciated her looking after Miss Riley, the woman looked puzzled. Hank repeated the words in Spanish, but she only smiled, nodded and closed the door.

  “Satisfied?” he asked after they’d left the town behind.

  “I guess the doctors know what they’re doing, sending her home this soon.”

  “You’re supposed to be the expert on matters medical.” He was wearing an open-neck shirt. Now he reached up and unfastened another button, adjusting the air vent to allow the frigid air to play over the bronzed skin of his throat.

  “No, I’m not. Just because I worked for a doctor and knew all the sales reps and stood in a few times for the nurse, that doesn’t mean I’m any expert.”

  “Do you want a second opinion?”

  She thought about it and then shook her head. “I think this friend of hers would call her doctor if there was the least cause for worry, don’t you? Anyway, Aunt Manie tends to be independent. She’s a lot like Grandpop that way. I thought about it on the drive west, and I decided the best way to convince her to do something—for her own good, of course—is to keep nattering around the edges until she thinks it’s all her own idea.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Steering her into deciding to go back home with you?”

  Callie nodded. “We’ve been writing back and forth ever since the funeral. I reminded her that now I had this great big house just going to waste, and how I’d painted it. And about the garden and all. Well, of course, she saw that when she was there. The collards were looking good, but the beans and tomatoes were long past their prime, but that’s only temporary.”

  “Of course it is,” he said solemnly, and they sped along for another five miles.

  Middle of the afternoon. Hot as hell. Even with the best air conditioner in the world, the psychological effect of all that August sun beating down from a cloudless sky was making him sweat. Something sure was. Callie, too. She’d eased her skirt up over her knees and was fanning herself with a scrap of handkerchief. He tried not to look, he really did, but the battle was lost the minute she’d bared those small, rounded kneecaps and he’d caught a glimpse of silky white thigh.

  She fell silent, which was just as well, because he was having trouble concentrating. Was she doing it deliberately? Flashing the flesh, tossing out tantalizing topics and letting them lie there?

  Yeah, right. Like beans and tomatoes.

  He wanted to get into her mind, simply because he couldn’t figure her out.

  Unfortunately that wasn’t all he wanted to get into.

  She’s a kid, Langley! She’s way out of your league.

  He eased the pedal to the floor, wishing he was out on his dirt bike where he could outride his problems for a few hours. Problems such as this marriage business. The fact that his fortieth birthday was rushing toward him like a bat out of hell, and that he was without a wife, without issue as they said in legal circles—and with an estate that grew at an obscene rate in spite of a lack of any real interest on his part. He wasn’t cut out to be a millionaire. He’d be a hell of a lot more content doing something—almost anything—on a smaller scale.

  “I wouldn’t blame her much if she decided not to go.”

  “Sorry. Did I miss something?”

  “Aunt Manie. You saw where she was staying. What if she wants to stay on here in Texas? Grandpop’s place is wonderful, but it’s nothing like Miss Jones’s house. That fancy sunroom and all—I mean, I could probably afford a cold frame, but…” She sighed and began gnawing her lower lip. Hank reached over and laid a comforting hand on hers.

  Some comfort. Her hand happened to be on her lap. His fingers brushed her thigh, and he could’ve sworn sparks flew.

  She felt it, too. He could tell by the way she sucked in her breath. In an effort to defuse the tension, he reached out and switched on the radio, then tuned quickly away from the music he’d preset to a weather report.

  Pansy called him manipulative. He’d never denied it. Like most men, he preferred getting his way. Over the years he’d gotten pretty damn good at it, but Callie wasn’t fair game.

  “You know what?” she asked in that soft, husky, madeup-my-mind-about-something voice of hers, “I don’t think you’re nearly as helpless and vulnerable as Aunt Manie says you are. She’ll rest a lot easier when it comes time to leave, though, if you’ve got a wife to look after you, so I’m going to do my best to hold off the stampede until you make up your mind which one you want. Doc Teeter was seventy-seven years old, and you wouldn’t believe the way the women chased after him. They even waited at the office for him, with cakes and invitations to supper and bingo. Sometimes two or three at a time, so you see, I’ve had practice.”

  “Rough duty, huh?” Either she was even more of an innocent than he’d thought, or she was the slickest little con artist in seven states.

  “Worse than that. I think a few of them even thought there might be something between me and Doc, but he was like my grandfather. In fact, he was a friend of my grandfather, which is how I got the job.”

  “And now that your doctor’s retired, Manie’s appointed you my guard dog.” He had to laugh, picturing these two small Riley women guarding his six-foot-two, one-hundred-eighty-seven-pound body against an army of females in size zilch designer dresses.

  “Actually she gave me a whole list of duties, but mostly I’m supposed to act as head referee in the Hank Stakes. She’s afraid now that the coast is clear, Pansy and Bianca might move in and arrange to be caught in a compromising situation. You know, the way people did in all those Regency romances?”

  Hank cut her a swift glance to see if she was pulling his leg, but there wasn’t a glimmer of a smile in her face. “Honey, you’re a couple of centuries behind the times. Politicians are about the only ones who can be compromised these days, and even then, one good spin cycle and they’re clean as driven snow.”

  “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, personally, if you want to know what I think, I think you’re old enough to fight your own battles.”

  “Do you, Callie?” he asked, bemused by this small, plain woman wearing a limp cotton dress that probably cost less than one of his T-shirts.

  She nodded emphatically. “However, if there’s anything you want to tell me—I mean about which one you want to win, I’ll be glad to listen. It’s the least I can do.”

  He couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. By the time he’d sobered enough to notice, she was grinning from ear to ear.

  “You little monkey, you do it on purpose, don’t you?”

  “Do what on purpose?”

  “This act of yours. You know you crack me up, sitting there solemn as a judge, going on about how sensitive and vulnerable I am, and how you’ve vowed to protect me at all costs.”

  “I didn’t say anything about the costs, I only said Aunt Manie thinks—”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “She said so.”

  “I hate to tell you this, honey, but your great-aunt is a devious woman. I’m beginning to think it might run in the family.”

 
She was silent for so long, Hank suspected he might be on to something. What the devil was that pair up to? Were they in it together, or was each working toward a separate end?

  They’d both bear watching. And watching Caledonia Riley in action was something he was beginning to enjoy a little too much.

  As for Callie, she felt his eyes on her more than a few times on the ride back to Royal. She couldn’t catch him at it without the risk of being caught herself. All the same, she knew when she was being looked at. The thing she didn’t know was why.

  He probably didn’t trust her. She’d either said too much or too little. He probably resented the fact that she was here to steal a valuable employee from him, but if he thought Texas rules were something, wait until he came up against Riley rules.

  “Hungry?” he asked, dropping back to ten miles above the limit.

  “Not really.”

  “Humor me, I hate to dine alone.”

  “No, you don’t. Manie said you almost never went out for dinner if you could get out of it, and I know you order lunch sent up almost every day.”

  “So, I happen to like Mouse’s cooking.”

  “Why does everyone call him Mouse?”

  “Maybe someday, if you’re a good girl, I’ll tell you the story.” He veered into the parking lot at Claire’s. As it was early, even for a Sunday, there were only a handful of cars there.

  “I can’t go in there,” Callie whispered, suddenly conscious of her limp cotton dress and her bare feet in flat sandals. She’d dusted a layer of powder over her freckles before she’d left home this morning, but by now she’d be shining like an oil slick.

  “What, you don’t like French food? Lucky for you, I happen to know where we can get a couple of really fine chili dogs, with the best coconut pie in the world.”

  “Maybe you’d better just take me home. You’ve wasted a whole day, and—”

  “I’ve wasted nothing. Manie’s my friend. Believe it or not, she means as much to me as she does to you. You want to know what I think?”

  “Not really, but you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

  “I think you’re jealous because Manie would rather be here in Texas with me than go back to North Carolina with you.”

  “I am not—”

  “Sure you are. Admit it, Callie. I’ve got something you want, and you’re all bent out of shape about it. Honey, Manie’s whole life is right here in Royal. She’s lived here a damned sight longer than she ever lived in North Carolina. She’s got good friends here who mean a lot to her, and that means that no matter what you want to believe, she doesn’t really need you.”

  “That’s not true,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, it is. Get over it, Callie. Go back home and get started on a family of your own.”

  She took a deep, bracing breath. If he’d whopped her across the face, it couldn’t have hurt any more than his words had, because there was an element of truth in them. “You don’t know that,” she said with every appearance of composure.

  If there was one thing Callie was good at, it was hiding her feelings. Hiding her loneliness. Hiding her fear of being left alone. Lord knows, she’d had enough practice. For as long as she could remember, her parents had fought like cats and dogs. She’d been thirteen years old when her father had come home one day and announced that he’d quit his job. Mama had let out a screech that could be heard all the way into Wilkes County.

  Then they’d noticed Callie and tried to pretend they’d just been fooling around, but she’d seen those same sickening false smiles too many times to be fooled. They’d sent her out to play, but before she’d even cleared the front porch she could hear them through the open window, going at it tooth and nail.

  “—wasting my life—”

  “—tied down—”

  “—married too young!”

  It had been ugly. Callie had felt like throwing up, but she’d heard it all before. It happened. Daddies ran off, Mamas got lawyers, papers got served and kids got their lives screwed up.

  Right then and there, she’d started making plans for the future. On the plus side, she had Grandpop. He chewed tobacco and told the same old stories over and over again, but at least he was always there. Steady, reliable and best of all, he loved her.

  The funny part was that her parents, once they got everything out in the open and finished going through what Callie thought of as their change of life, had settled down and got along like a house afire. Which had taught her two more of Life’s Lessons: Don’t try to jam square pegs into round holes because it’s a miserable fit, and whenever possible, speak your mind. It saves trouble in the long run.

  She also believed in keeping a low profile, as in dressing modestly and not calling attention to herself. She’d read somewhere that to have what we want is riches, but to be able to do without is power. So she’d kept her wants modest, and now here she was, within spitting distance of having them fulfilled.

  And no gold-plated, tinhorn cowboy with a bunch of oil wells in his hip pocket was going to keep her from it, Texas rules or not.

  “A hot dog would be just lovely. I like onions on mine.”

  Six

  The Royal Diner it was. Callie reached for the one-page, plastic-covered menu. Hank gently removed it from her hand and ordered for her. And then had the pleasure of watching her tackle one of the Royal’s famous hot dogs, along with a peach milkshake. By the time she’d wiped the last of the chili off her chin and fingers, he’d already signaled for two slabs of coconut pie, which happened to be his favorite. A few minutes later, Big Lou Macon waddled over with their dessert and leaned up against the bench to ask if he wanted a puppy.

  “What kind?” Callie asked.

  “Heinz 57,” said Lou, about the same time Hank told her definitely not. One thing led to another as the two women started talking pets. From pets they moved on to talk about cousins. Callie had none, but Lou had seventeen, nine of whom owned pets and three of whom were currently in jail for one social gaffe or another.

  Hank finished his pie and took a forkful of Callie’s while the two women moved on to ailments. Again, Callie had none, but Lou’s were legion, and since everyone in town knew about Manie’s niece, and that she’d once worked for a physician, it didn’t take long for Lou to start pumping.

  “You might try tea tree oil,” Callie advised. Her glasses had slid down her nose, and Hank reached across the table, removed them and dropped them into his shirt pocket. Ignoring him, she told the waitress earnestly to rub it on her toenail three times a day. “Oh, and take garlic and—”

  “That does it.” He dug out his wallet, fished out two bills and shoved them under the napkin dispenser. “Goodnight, Lou, come on, Callie, time to go home.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “But nothing,” he said firmly, planting a hand on her back to urge her out the door. “You were practicing medicine without a licence. In Texas, that can put you out of circulation.”

  “But I haven’t finished my pie yet,” she wailed.

  “I’ll have Lou send you three pies tomorrow. You can have pie for breakfast, pie for lunch and pie for dinner, all right?”

  He almost laughed at the mutinous expression on her face. Silver-blue eyes blazing, splashes of color on both cheeks, not to mention the speck of mustard at the corner of her mouth—damned if she wasn’t more tempting than the pie.

  He opened the car door and held it while she slid her shapely little rear end onto the seat, then swung both feet inside. Funny, the way he noticed little things like that about her. Most women climbed into a car headfirst, butt last. And while that method had its advantages, particularly for the bystander, he sort of liked the way Callie did it. It was…graceful.

  He slid under the steering wheel, reminded her to fasten her belt, and it hit him again. That tantalizing fragrance that sent him back in time to the kitchen at his father’s first house, back when his mother had still been alive.

  “Well?” He waited. “Are
n’t you going to chew me out?”

  “No.”

  “I sort of wish you would.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  He slapped the wheel with the heel of his hand. Dammit, she was doing it to him again. Playing games with his mind, not to mention what she was doing to his libido. Watching her dig into a loaded hot dog, watching the tip of her tongue flick out to take care of the overflow—going on with Lou about dogs and toenails, while he sat there, randy as a goat, he’d had to wonder why he’d ever thought he knew something about women.

  Now she was fooling around with his mind. For a lady who claimed to be such a straight shooter, she was remarkably devious. To make matters worse, she was Manie’s niece. Manie would scalp him if he so much as laid a finger on her. Hell, he’d even hand her the knife.

  “Thank you for supper. I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to, I was only trying to be helpful.”

  She was sorry if she’d upset him. Like he didn’t have his future all mapped out before she’d showed up and started drawing crazy lines all over his nice, neat map. “I know you were, honey.”

  Did she do it deliberately? Turn him on, only to put him on the defensive? Entire boards of directors had been known to quail at the lift of one of his eyebrows. A minor part of his survival training when he’d applied to join Special Forces had been a blindfolded three-meter drop into deep water, wearing cap, fatigues, boots, pistol belt, firstaid pouch, two full canteens, two ammo pouches, harness and rifle. He’d had to surface and swim to safety, removing only the blindfold.

  Compared to dealing with Callie Riley, it was a piece of cake.

  Cruising through town to the neat, middle-class neighborhood where Manie lived, he tried to figure out how she did it, and whether or not it was deliberate. Everything about her was understated. She didn’t do anything to call attention to herself, which made him all the more curious. When a situation started to bug him, he generally took it apart, analyzed the components, pinpointed the problem and did something about it. The one thing he never did was waste time brooding.