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He bit back a curse. It wasn’t that he wanted never to get married. He did. Eventually. But he’d scarcely turned thirty. Why did it have to be now? And to a woman he had never even met?
To seal the merger of a lifetime.
That’s what his father would say. The only way that the Winterbornes and the Calhouns would ever be reunited was with a marriage and the co-mingling of blood. In other words—kids. He not only had to marry this woman, he also had to have children with her—posthaste.
This time John did swear. Nate flinched but didn’t run away as John wished he would. Instead, he remained steadfastly by, waiting to plead his case once more if need be.
But John didn’t have to hear it again. He knew the deal.
Regina Winterborne, twenty-four, had been in more trouble than he could shake a stick at. She was attractive and she wore her highbrow upbringing like a badge of honor. In other words, she was a snob. One who spent a small fortune on designer clothes and who’d had more short-term relationships than even John had. And that was saying something.
Money aside, John had been blessed with an excellent blend of his mother’s beauty and his father’s rugged features; he knew he was good-looking. How could he not? Women flocked to him as though he was the latest motion picture heartthrob. Most of the time he didn’t mind. But occasionally he did. How the hell was he supposed to know the real thing when it came along? Would he really know when a woman cared about him simply for him rather than for his looks or his money? Probably not.
That was one thing he wouldn’t have to worry about anymore if he went through with his father’s “deal.” He would know that the union was about money and the question would be moot. But what kind of life was that? How would children fare with a mother and father who had only married to combine their companies? Not too well, he imagined.
But it wasn’t as if he had a lot of options. Though John had recently turned thirty, he had never once in his life disobeyed his father. Not a single time had he ever even considered going against his father’s wishes. And, the truth was, he wasn’t stupid. He fully understood how important this merger was, on a professional level as well as on several others.
It was the opportunity his father had hoped for, as had his own father and grandfather before him. Not once had they gotten this close. Now the road to reuniting the two most powerful oil companies in the nation lay directly in front of John. Turning away from it was out of the question.
“When will she be here?”
“I’m leaving in half an hour to personally escort the Winterbornes to Texas. We should arrive by five this evening,” Nate said proudly. “A quiet dinner at the house has been arranged. Some free time will be available for you and Miss Winterborne since your fathers will be attending the poker game in Runaway Bay later tonight.”
The poker game. Not a Friday night had passed in John’s lifetime that his father hadn’t attended the poker game in Runaway Bay. No less than half a dozen players, all oil barons, showed up for the game each week. John wondered vaguely how the good old boys from Texas would tolerate a Yankee in their midst. A grin tugged at his lips. Maybe this weekend would be worth the trouble after all.
And that easily the decision was made. John would not stand in the way of progress. Nor would he be responsible for another hundred years of antagonism between his family and the Winterbornes. Nope. If a wedding was what it took to pull off this coup, then he’d suit up for the challenge. He wasn’t a quitter, and he damn sure never shirked his duty. As the one and only heir of the Calhoun name, he was it. There was no one else to do what had to be done, and another heir was necessary to carry on the family business.
But about one thing he would have his way. The woman who was to be his wife would be his wife. His alone. There would be no illicit lovers on the side, no trysts…no cheating whatsoever. It would be the real thing. In and out of bed.
He blew out a mighty breath. “All right, Nate. Let’s make this thing happen.”
John turned away from the beauty of the horses and the lush pasture and set his sights on something far less attractive—coming to terms with his impending marriage.
Back in Chicago…
AMY MANEUVERED her ancient but reliable car through Chicago’s Friday-afternoon traffic more quickly than she’d anticipated and headed to the country estate of Edgar Winterborne. She relaxed her tense shoulders and settled in for the drive once on the open road. All she had to do was deliver this report. She glanced at the white envelope lying on the seat next to her. Then she could call it a day. Mildred had told her not to worry about coming back to the office. Amy could start her Fourth of July weekend early.
She heaved a discontented sigh. Why hadn’t she answered Victoria’s question truthfully? How was she ever going to work up the nerve to say what she really wanted? It was so simple. It wasn’t as though the possibility of her becoming a full-fledged investigator was beyond the scope of comprehension. She knew she could do it.
All she had to do was prove it somehow.
But there was nothing she could do about it today. It was Friday and Monday was a holiday. She might as well put it out of her mind and enjoy the long weekend. Maybe between now and Tuesday some sort of epiphany would hit and she would know just what to do. Or maybe some handsome stranger would move into the empty apartment across the hall and invite her to help him settle in.
Yeah, right.
The envelope Victoria had given her snagged her attention once more. She looked at her watch. The trip to the Winterbornes would take at least another hour, she might as well make a fuel stop. Then she’d have a chance to take a look at that report. Why not? She read all the Colby Agency reports. No one had told her she couldn’t.
Banishing the guilt factor to the farthest corner of her mind, she pulled into the lot of the next gas station and parked near the pump. Once the nozzle was in place and the gasoline filling her tank, she climbed back into her car and opened the clasp on the envelope containing the report.
John Robert Calhoun, IV. She surveyed the picture of the Texas cowboy and her mind immediately dredged up the list the glamour magazine poll had compiled. Tall. Mm-hmm. Broad-shouldered. Yep. Well-muscled. She studied the pictures that had been taken without the subject’s knowledge. He sat astride a horse and was, apparently, rounding up a herd of horses. Holy-moly—he was gorgeous. A little shiver went through her, awakening a long-slumbering libido. Now there was a real man.
She remembered hearing Victoria tell Mildred that his ranch was called the Wild Horse because he took in the wild animals from all around the country to keep poachers from harming them. A hero. Hmmm. Compassionate and definitely well-muscled, she decided after studying his image awhile longer. And sinfully handsome without a question. His blond hair and blue eyes contrasted sharply with his deeply tanned skin.
He looked like the kind of cowboy who could make any woman swoon. The perfect man. Oh, yeah. Amy sighed wistfully. Lucky Regina Winterborne. He was all hers.
She shook her head and shoved the report back into the envelope. What did she care about hard-bodied cowboys anyway? Focus. She had to stay focused. Right now she had one thing on her mind and one thing only: becoming the next Colby Agency investigator.
Regrettably, she didn’t have time for anything else…even fantasizing about a rugged cowboy who was promised to another woman.
Chapter Two
Regina Winterborne was many things. Spoiled, admittedly. Impetuous, definitely. But dumb she was not. She had no intention of marrying some stubborn, macho cowboy. No matter what her daddy promised her.
Living a whole hour outside of Chicago was bad enough. It made hair salon appointments as well as spa sessions immensely annoying. Every time she wanted the least little thing she had to drive all the way into the city. She hated driving into the city. She hated living in the country more.
But she’d tried taking her own apartment in town. The penthouse she’d selected had been opulent without doubt. Her staff of three—cook, maid and personal assistant—had been top notch. The only drawback had been the money. There was never enough of it.
Her father had insisted that if she were going to live away from home she would learn to do so on a budget. So he’d set her up on a monthly allowance. Well, she huffed as she remembered the ridiculously paltry amount, how was she supposed to conduct herself properly under such conditions? Why, there’d scarcely been anything left to pay the hired help each month. So, she’d had to move back home and play the dutiful daughter whenever her father was around.
She folded her arms over her chest and glared out the floor-to-ceiling window of his study. Anything to keep from having to look him directly in the eye. He read her too easily. She wasn’t about to let him see what she really thought just now.
“Regina, don’t turn your back on me,” he ordered in that booming voice that made the board of directors at Winterborne Industries sit up and take notice.
She simply rolled her eyes. “I’m not turning my back on you, Daddy. I’m merely enjoying the fabulous view.” And it was fabulous, if one was into miles of sickeningly lovely landscape and nothing else.
He moved up beside her, obviously content with her lie. “This is for your own good, my dear. I only want the best for you.”
Yeah, right. He wanted to seal this history-making deal and get her out of his hair at the same time. “I’m sure you do.” She wasn’t entirely successful at keeping a hint of sarcasm out of her tone.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said more quietly.
That couldn’t possibly be true, she mused, or he’d be ranting rather than gentling his usually boisterous voice. Because right now the only thing she was thinking was how much she wished someone would rescue her from this prison.
Someone like Kevin. Her heart skipped a beat. But Kevin was long gone. He’d quickly grown weary of her father’s interference in their relationship…just like all the others.
“You’re thinking,” her father went on, “that I just want you married off so someone else will have to attend to your needs.”
Give the man a cigar. She gritted her teeth, holding back those very words.
“But that’s not true at all,” he urged. “You’re my only daughter—my only child. I want the very best for you.” He sighed mightily. “I worry that you’ll fall victim to the charms of some no-account like that Kevin Martin. He’s worthless.”
Regina didn’t have to look to know that her father’s face had turned beet-red, she could hear his temper rising in his voice. He hated Kevin. Had hated all her boyfriends from the time she was fourteen and had developed breasts as well as a mind of her own.
Well, that was just too bad. He was not going to pick her husband. She would not be forced into an arranged marriage.
“If your mother were here, she’d tell you the same thing,” her father said more calmly. “Men like Martin are leeches—self-serving and uncaring about anyone but themselves. He isn’t nearly good enough for you. I hope you see that.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she lied again, just to get him off the subject. “I know that Kevin is scum. You don’t have to worry. He broke up with me anyhow.”
That much was the truth. Kevin had tired of the run-ins with her father and had opted to run out on her. She stiffened her spine against the unfairness of it all. And now her father wanted her to marry some cowboy just because he had the largest oil business in Texas. No way.
“You’re twenty-four, Regina. It’s time you settled down and took on the responsibilities of being a Winterborne. You will inherit everything I have worked my entire life to build and that my forefathers worked to build before me. If you’re not ready for that challenge, you might lose everything.”
Now that grabbed her attention. She looked at her father for the first time since the conversation began. “What do you mean I might lose everything?”
He shook his head sadly from side to side. “I had no choice but to make a codicil to my will. Unless I am fully convinced that you are prepared to take over the company and run it properly, the board of directors will run things as per my final instructions and you will receive a monthly allowance until such time that they deem you fit to take charge of the company.”
Horror burgeoned like a scream in her throat. “But…but,” she croaked, “how will I live?” Begging on a street corner flashed vividly through her mind. Dear God, he couldn’t be serious. His idea of an allowance was laughable at best. And those crusty old codgers on the board hated her!
“It doesn’t have to come to that,” he said pointedly. “All you have to do is trust me and you’ll have everything.”
The horror drained away leaving an almost blinding clarity. “In other words, if I marry this Texan I get everything…if I don’t I get a measly allowance.”
Indignation washed across her father’s pale, pudgy face. “Your allowance has never been measly!” The red started to rise up his neck once more. Oops! She’d hit a nerve with that one. “You have always, always gotten anything you asked for. I have never permitted you to want for anything.” Something in his expression changed and a new kind of fear crept up her spine. “Perhaps,” he suggested furiously, “that is part of the problem.”
“Daddy,” she wailed, suddenly sure of what he intended next, “you can’t seriously want me to marry a man I’ve never even met!” Even she wasn’t that impetuous.
Her father lifted one shaggy eyebrow in that condescending manner he’d always used with her when he actually wanted to turn her over his knee and spank her. But he never had, not once. “That’s precisely why we’re spending the weekend at his ranch. We’re going to get to know him and that is the end of the subject. If you wish to stay on my good side, you will do as I request.”
Do it or lose it, that was the bottom line. She could stay single and play all she wanted if she were willing to give up the fortune that, as the only Winterborne heir, she was fully entitled to. Or she could buckle under and marry some stranger who would probably boss her around just like her father did.
Wow, what a choice.
“I want you packed and ready to go in one hour,” he ordered. “I absolutely will not tolerate any grief either, young lady. You will behave yourself this weekend or you will be sorry. Is that clear?”
She stared directly into her father’s worried eyes. He loved her. She knew he did. In his mind he was only trying to save her from herself. She didn’t doubt for a moment his heart was in the right place, but that didn’t make her like it. Then there was the money to consider.
What good would her freedom be if she were perpetually broke?
“Yes, Daddy,” she said in the most obedient tone she could muster. “I’ll go pack.”
The telephone rang and her father hurried over to his desk to answer it. Regina peered out the window once more and tried to picture the bleakness of Texas. She despised long stretches of nothing. She was scared to death of horses. And she absolutely hated macho, arrogant men. How on earth was she supposed to survive on that stupid ranch even for a weekend?
The image of her birthright, billions of dollars, circling the proverbial drain and disappearing flashed in her mind’s eye. Okay, maybe she could survive it for just a little while.
“I’ll be right there,” she heard her father say, his tone urgent. She frowned. Where could he be going when they had to leave in just one hour? Before she could ask that very question, he skirted his desk and rushed over to her.
“The employees at one of the facilities have walked out, shutting down the whole operation. I’ve got to get over there and see if I can get this worked out. We can’t afford any bad publicity of any sort right now.”
In other words, her father didn’t want the cowboy to find out since it might give him pause.
“Of course,” she said, suddenly elated. This meant they didn’t have to go to Texas, which bought her a little more time to figure a way out of this. “I’m sure Mr. Calhoun will understand our postponing.” She resisted the urge to do a little end-zone victory dance. Hot dog! She was free for the weekend. Fireworks and all-night parties.
“Oh, no,” her father said, positively mortified at the very idea. “His private plane is already on its way to pick us up. You go on ahead of me. I’ll join the two of you as soon as I have this little misunderstanding worked out.” He gave her a pointed look. “Just don’t mention anything about it, all right, dear?”
Her hopes fizzled like a dud firecracker. “Fine,” she muttered. What else could she do? Her whole future depended on her cooperation. The way she saw it, the only choice she had was to try and figure out a way to send this cowboy running in another direction. If he chose not to marry her, then it certainly wouldn’t be her fault.
She smiled. Oh yeah, that could work. And her father wouldn’t be the wiser.
“OH, MY GOD,” Amy murmured as she stopped midway down the mile-long drive and admired the house that loomed before her. The Winterborne mansion was huge. Not just huge, she amended, palatial. That was it, she decided. It looked like an enormous castle with acres of magnificent gardens flanking it. The only thing missing was the moat.
Amy eased off the brake and rolled the rest of the way up the drive, past the elaborate fountain, choosing to park near the side of the grand house rather than up front. As she emerged from her car she noted that somehow her dilapidated old compact just wouldn’t look right at the bottom of those luxurious steps.
Suddenly conscious of her attire, she smoothed a hand over her travel-wrinkled slacks. She straightened her sleeveless sweater and squared her shoulders. She was a courier for the Colby Agency. She might not live in a mansion or drive a Rolls, but this was important business.
Amy marched up the steps and straight to the massive double doors. She pressed the doorbell and waited for a butler to answer. Surely in a house like this, the residents didn’t bother answering the door themselves.
The door suddenly swung inward and a young woman, maybe about Amy’s age, stared out at her, annoyance written all over her face. “Just a minute,” she barked into the cordless phone she clutched in her right hand. “What do you want?” she demanded of Amy.
Taken aback but determined to maintain her professionalism, she dredged up a smile. “Good afternoon, I’m Amy Wells from the Colby Agency. I believe Mr. Winterborne is expecting me.”
The woman looked her up and down disapprovingly. To Amy’s credit, she didn’t squirm. “He’s not here. He had to leave. I’ll tell him you came by.”
Wait a minute. That wasn’t going to work. Victoria had said that Mr. Winterborne needed this report right away. “Wait!” Amy cried before the door could slam in her face.
“What?” the woman snapped, obviously in a hurry to get back to whoever was on the other end of the telephone line.
Amy positioned herself in the doorway to prevent its closing. “I have to give this report to Mr. Winterborne. It’s very important.”
“Fine,” the woman relented. “Come in and you can call him at the plant.”
Amy stepped into the marble-floored entry hall and was awestruck all over again by the grandness of the home. The outside was beautiful but the inside was breathtaking.
The woman moved a few feet away to resume her call. “I can’t believe you’re even calling me like this,” she hissed.
Amy tried to focus on the details of the amazing entry hall rather than on the hushed words, but the intensity of the phone conversation prodded her natural curiosity.
“No,” the woman said sharply. “You walked out on me, Kevin. Left me here to deal with my father.”
Now Amy got the picture. The girl was apparently Mr. Winterborne’s daughter and the caller, or “cal-lee” as the case might be, was obviously her boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend.
“Vegas? What the hell are you doing in—?”
Silence echoed for about five seconds.
“How much?” This time her fury had dissolved into something like awe. The same kind of awe Amy had felt at seeing this place. “You won that much?”
Okay, Amy reasoned. Her boyfriend was in Vegas and had just won a lot of money and was calling to…make up? Amy grinned. She definitely had this investigating thing down to a science. She just had to find a way to get Victoria’s attention. Simply asking for the position wouldn’t be good enough. Amy wanted to bowl her employer over with some sort of amazing feat. That way she would just have to say yes! No wouldn’t even be a possibility.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” the woman said wistfully.
Amy’s heart went out to her. Was this guy trying to win her back? Did he deserve a second chance? Her gut instinct was that anytime a person had a chance at true love, he or she had better take it. It sure didn’t come along often.
“Okay,” the woman said breathlessly. “I’m going to the airport right now. I’ll be on the next flight out there.” She giggled. “Yes. I love you, too.”
Amy had been right all the way around. The thought pleased her immensely.
The woman jumped when her gaze collided with Amy’s once more. “Oh. I’d forgotten all about you.”
