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Lone Star Millionaire
Susan Mallery
Cal Langtry had never met a business deal he couldn't land—or a woman, for that matter. But this one was going to be a little tougher. She was only twelve, had recently lost her mother and just found out he was her father. So Cal turned to the one person who made everything right in his world—his assistant, Sabrina Jeffries.Sabrina proved just as competent with his daughter as she was with every other aspect of his life. But as she worked her magic on his daughter—and on him—he realized he had to convince her to make this more than just a job.
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Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Susan Mallery
“Susan Mallery is one of my favorites.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
“Mallery has once again proven to be a superb writer; romance novels just don’t get much better than this.”
—Booklist
“If you’re looking for heart-tugging emotions elaborately laced with humor, then Mallery is the author for you.”
—RT Book Reviews
Lone Star Millionaire
Susan Mallery
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
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
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
SUSAN MALLERY
is a New York Times bestselling author of more than ninety romances. Her combination of humor, emotion and just-plain-sexy has made her a reader favorite. Susan makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her handsome husband and possibly the world’s cutest dog. Visit her Web site at www.SusanMallery.com.
Chapter 1
“Madam must agree that it’s very beautiful,” the store clerk said.
Sabrina Innis stared down at the diamond tennis bracelet glinting on her wrist. “Madam agrees,” she told the well-dressed young man, then glanced at her boss. “Stunning. And ten carats, too. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather buy her a little car? It would be cheaper.”
Calhoun Jefferson Langtry, all six feet three inches of him, raised his eyebrows. “I’m not interested in cheap. You should know that by now. I want to send something meaningful, but elegant.” He motioned to the diamond pin the clerk had first shown them. “Nothing froufrou, though. I hate froufrou.”
The “froufrou” in question was an amazing diamond-and-gold pin that cost what the average family of four earned in three or four months. It had clean lines, a zigzag ribbon of gold dividing a stylized circle, with a large four-carat diamond slightly off center. Sabrina loved it and would have chosen it in a hot minute. But the gift wasn’t for her.
She unclasped the tennis bracelet and placed it next to the other finalists—a gold bangle inlaid with diamonds and emeralds, and a Rolex watch. “I sense a theme here,” she said. “Things that go around the wrist. Shackles, in a manner of speaking. Is this your way of telling Tiffany that she shouldn’t have tried to tie you down?”
Her impertinence earned her a scowl. She smiled back. Cal’s temper existed mostly in his mind. Compared to the screaming in her house when she was growing up—four siblings all with extreme opinions on everything—his mild bouts of ill humor were easy to tolerate. Not that the man couldn’t be stone cold when it suited him. She made sure never to cross him in important issues and counted these tiny victories as perks of the job. If nothing else, they kept her wit sharp—a definite advantage when dealing with the wealthy and privileged.
“This one,” she said, pointing to the emerald-and-diamond bracelet.
The clerk paused, waiting for Cal’s approval.
“You heard the little lady. Wrap it up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sabrina rose to her feet. After six years of being in Texas, she’d grown used to being called “little lady.” She often accused Cal of being trapped in a John Wayne western. Not that he couldn’t be urbane when he chose. When it suited his purposes, he could talk about world events, pick out the perfect wine and discuss the changing financial market with the best of them. But with her, he was himself—Cal Langtry, rich, Texas oil tycoon and playboy. She looked at the piece of jewelry the clerk tucked into a velvet box. A soon-to-be unattached playboy.
“Does Tiffany know?” Sabrina asked as Cal signed the credit card receipt. The clerk held out the bag, not sure to whom to hand it. Sabrina took it. Even though the gift wasn’t for her, she was responsible for mailing it to the recipient, after she’d composed a suitable note.
Cal led the way to the front of the store, then held open the door for her. “Not exactly.”
Sunlight and the spring heat hit her full in the face. Despite having lived here six years, she still wasn’t used to the humidity. She felt her hair start to crinkle. So much for the smooth, sophisticated style she’d tamed it into that morning. The hair-care industry had yet to invent a hair spray that could outlast the Houston weather.
They crossed the sidewalk to the waiting limo. As always, Cal politely waited until Sabrina had settled into the seat. She liked to think it was because he enjoyed watching her skirt climb up her thighs. The truth was, he never bothered to look.
It was better that way, she told herself, wondering when she was going to start believing it. After all, if she was as good-looking as her boss, they would cause a stir wherever they went and all the attention would grow annoying. As it was, she was able to slip into the background and live her life in peace and quiet.
She chuckled softly and glanced out the window.
“What’s so funny?” Cal asked.
“I was wondering if we were going to have a storm this afternoon,” she said. It was almost the truth. She’d really been wondering if her outrageous lies, told only to herself, would cause her to be struck by lightning.
She set the carefully wrapped gift between them. “Tiffany’s for Tiffany,” she said, pointing to the name on the bag. “I wonder if your soon-to-be ex-girlfriend will appreciate the irony.”
“Don’t start with that, Sabrina,” Cal warned. “Tiffany was a splendid girl.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
He eyed her, as if he didn’t believe what she was saying. “Okay, so she wasn’t the brightest person on the planet,” he admitted.
“Now, there’s an understatement.”
He narrowed his gaze.
Sabrina feigned fear by sinking back into the corner of the limo. “Oh, Mr. Langtry, please don’t punish me for my impertinence. I’m just the hired help. I desperately need this job to support my orphaned brothers and sisters. I’ll do anything to get into your good graces.”
She fluttered her eyelashes for effect.
Cal faced front. “Dammit, Sabrina, I hate that I can’t stay angry with you. Why is that?”
“Why do you hate it or why can’t you stay angry?”
“Both.”
“You can’t stay angry because I’m nearly always right, and you can’t hate it because deep in your heart you know I’m incredibly bright. Smarter than you, even. So you spend your days intimidated by me but determined not to let me know.”
“In your dreams.” He pointed at the bag. “Why’d you pick that bracelet over the other one or the watch?”
She stared at him. “Do you want the truth?”
“Oh, so I’m not going to like your reasoning. Sure. Tell me the truth.”
She shrugged. “Tiffany is a sweet girl, but young. Her taste is a little, shall we say, undeveloped. While the diamond bracelet was beautiful, I thought it would be too plain. The emeralds give the bangle flash and she’ll like that.”
“Agreed. Why not the watch?”
“We’re talking about Tiffany here, Cal. The watch wasn’t digital, and I’m not completely convinced she can tell time the old-fashioned way.”
“Remind me to fire you when we get back to the office.”
“You asked me for the truth.”
“So you’re telling me it’s my fault?”
“You’re the one who chose Tiffany, and now you’re the one who doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of ending it. What do you want the card to say?”
He shifted on the seat. “Something nice. That we had a great time together, but we don’t want the same things. You know. The usual. And stop looking at me that way.”
“What way?”
“Like you disapprove. Your face gets all scrunchy. It’s not attractive.”
Sabrina resisted the urge to whip out her compact and peer at herself. She doubted that she was the least bit scrunchy, but she hated not knowing.
“I don’t have an opinion on your personal life.”
“Liar,” he countered. “Why are you always telling me what to do and always disapproving of the women I pick?”
“Tiffany was all of twenty. You’re using the term woman very loosely. I’d be willing to accept mature girl, or even postadolescent. If you actually picked a woman, I might not disapprove.”
“Colette was nearly twenty-eight. That counts.”
He had a point. Before Tiffany had been Shanna, and before her, Colette. “Okay, she counts as a woman.”
“Colette was also bright. She’d been to college and everything.” He sounded smug, as if pleased he was going to win the argument.
Sabrina shifted until she was staring at him. “For all we know, Colette was a rocket scientist, but that’s hardly the point. The woman, and I’ll concede that she was a woman, was French. She barely spoke English, and I know for a fact you weren’t the least bit interested in her brain. She was a lingerie model. Did you actually ever hold a conversation with her?”
“Sure.”
Sabrina raised her eyebrows and waited. Cal had many flaws, but dishonesty wasn’t one of them.
He sighed heavily. “Okay, it was a short conversation. What’s your point?”
“I’m not sure I have one, aside from the usual. You’re reasonably intelligent—”
He glared at her and she ignored him.
“Reasonably attractive—”
The glare became a scowl. She was also lying through her teeth. Calling Cal attractive was in the same league as describing New York City as a “large village.”
“Somewhat articulate, very successful man who in the six years I’ve known you has yet to have anything resembling a normal long-term relationship. You’re thirty-four. When are you going to settle down?”
“I’ve had long-term relationships.”
“Taking your suits to the same dry cleaner for six or seven years doesn’t count. Face it, boss, you’re not actually interested in anything but the chase. You want them until you catch them, then you lose interest. Don’t you ever think about something more than that?”
His brown eyes darkened. “My personal life is none of your business.”
She picked up the bag containing Tiffany’s parting gift. “You make it my business,” she said, no longer teasing.
He grunted. She’d heard enough of the sound to recognize it as a dismissal. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. There were times when she ignored the dismissive grunt, mostly because whatever they were talking about was important, but in this case, she let it go. Except when ending one of his relationships became her duty of the day, she really tried to stay out of his personal life. She admired Cal in many areas, but that wasn’t one of them.
