Lone Star Millionaire (3 page)

“I'm not big enough to wrestle you into submission.”

“I know, but one of your icy stares is usually enough to remind me to behave.”

“Okay. I'll come, too. After all, I'm yours to command.”

“Cheap talk. I command you to stop winning on the stock market.”

She blinked slowly. “I'm sorry. Did you say something? I heard a faint buzzing, but no real words.”

“Just as I thought. Selective hearing.”

“I listen when you say something worth paying attention to.”

He pointed at the phone. “Get us seats. If you promise to behave, I'll let you have the window.”

“What a guy.”

She picked up the phone on his desk and dialed from memory. While she talked with the airline, Cal crossed to the window and stared out. It was nearly dusk and lights were coming on all around him. He stared into the twilight and wondered about the little girl living somewhere north of here. What did she look like? He could barely remember Janice's face, although other images were clear to him. The sound of her laughter, the feel of her hands on his body.

There had been, he was willing to admit, an instant attraction between them. A fire that had burned hot and bright. He didn't remember asking her out, though. At the time, it had sort of seemed to happen on its own. Now, with the hindsight of age, experience and knowledge, he wondered if it had really been that casual. Had she set him up from the beginning, then engineered the entire relationship?

He remembered that the sex between them had been intense. With her claim of being on the pill, they hadn't worried about precautions. She'd always been eager and willing. At times, she'd been the one pulling him into bed. He remembered being flattered by her attentions and what he'd thought at the time was her insatiable desire for him. Now he
realized she had just been making sure she got pregnant. He'd been a fool.

He remembered her tears when he'd left for graduate school, her promises to stay in touch. He remembered how he'd tried to call her, but her phone had been disconnected with no forwarding number. His letters had been returned without a forwarding address. It was as if she'd disappeared from the face of the earth. He supposed she had—after all, seven or eight months after they'd spent their summer together, she'd died.

He tried to feel regret for her loss, but he couldn't. He'd never known her. Whatever parts of herself she'd shown him had been designed to get him into her bed. Obviously he, too, had been born with the Langtry ability to completely screw up personal relationships.

How much had they offered her? What was a child worth these days? He pressed his hand against the cool glass and wondered how it was possible that his parents had performed this hideous deception. Then he reminded himself nothing they did should surprise him. With his family, he should know to expect anything…and nothing.

S
abrina leaned back into the comfortable leather seat of the sleek limousine and told herself to relax. This wasn't her problem; she was simply an interested bystander. Cal wanted her along to provide moral support, nothing more. But the sensible words didn't stop her from clasping her hands together over and over.

She tried to distract herself from her nerves by staring out the window. As always, the city enchanted her. She'd never lived in Manhattan but had enjoyed her visits. She liked the contrasts of the city—the huge buildings, the large impersonal crowds, the street vendors who sold food and drinks on the corners and, after two days, recognized her and grinned as they asked if she would like her usual. She liked all the city had to offer culturally, she loved the theater and the restaurants. When she traveled with Cal, they stayed at beautiful hotels—as they had last night—but they didn't limit their culinary experiences to upscale, pretentious eateries. Instead,
they found strange little places with unusual cuisine and often fabulous food. She liked the potential for adventure and the fact that no two visits were ever alike.

Under normal circumstances, she was usually thrilled to be in the city. Today, however, she would gladly give it all up to be back in the heat and humidity of Houston.

She didn't want to think about the upcoming visit, so she rolled down her window. It was a perfect New York spring day. Clear, warm but not muggy. The scent of blooming flowers occasionally overpowered the smell of exhaust. A burst of laughter caught her attention. She looked across to the sidewalk and saw a young father carrying his toddler son on his shoulders.

She swallowed. A child. She hadn't really allowed herself to think about children. She was still young and there was plenty of time. But children had always been a part of her future. She'd just assumed that one day she would have them. Cal was different. As far as she knew, he'd never even thought he would marry, let alone have a family. Here he was being presented with a half-grown kid. How on earth was he going to handle it?

She glanced at her boss. He stared straight ahead, and for once, his handsome face was unreadable. He didn't show his feelings easily, but over the years, she'd learned to read him. Until today. She knew he was in shock and he was angry. She couldn't blame him for either emotion. Bad enough to find out a former girlfriend had betrayed him in such a calculated way, but that information was made more horrible by the realization his own parents had joined the conspiracy.

Cal's father had died before she'd been hired and she'd never met his mother. She'd heard rumors and stories, mostly from Ada, about a cold society woman who put up with her husband's chronic philandering in order to keep her lifestyle intact. The marriage had been a business arrangement. One
half had brought in land rich with oil; the other, technology, engineering know-how and a small infusion of cash. Separately the families had been struggling, together they formed an empire. An empire that, according to Ada, hadn't left any time for raising children. Cal and Tracey had been put into the custody of an ever-changing staff.

“What are you thinking?” Cal asked.

“That a twelve-year-old is going to change your life.”

“I know.”

“I don't think you realize how much. Children are a big responsibility. I remember helping Gram with my younger brother and sisters after our parents died. They were a handful.”

He shrugged. “I don't have a choice. I'll learn what I have to. At least I want the girl. That's more than her aunt can say. That should count.”

“It will.” But would it be enough? Sabrina wasn't sure. After all, Cal wasn't into long-term commitments. His idea of a serious relationship was one that lasted two months. His record to date was ninety-three days. Still, a daughter was different from a girlfriend.

The limo pulled up in front of an East Side high-rise coop. One of the uniformed doormen stepped to the curb and opened the door. Sabrina accepted his assistance from the vehicle, then waited for Cal to lead the way inside. She'd worked for him for several years and thought she'd grown used to their difference in background and wealth, but occasionally obvious signs of his family's impressive fortune intimidated her.

“I didn't call to say we were coming,” she murmured as they stepped into the elegant foyer and walked to the elevators.

“I did. She's in this morning. She has a lunch appointment, but I told her this wouldn't take long.”

Sabrina smoothed her hair, then tugged on the skirt of her hunter green silk suit. It was the most expensive work outfit
she owned and she'd brought it deliberately. No doubt Mrs. Langtry would consider her beneath notice—after all, she was just the hired help. But she also figured she would need all the confidence-boosting she could get.

Instead of opening into a hallway, the elevator doors pulled back to reveal a huge living room. Marble floors and glass tables reflected the light from outside…light that flowed in through floor-to-ceiling windows. Unlike Cal's office view, this one didn't show a flat world, but instead stretched across Central Park, to the equally impressive buildings on the other side. The windows on her left looked south, and Sabrina realized Mrs. Langtry not only had a penthouse, but one on the corner.

Must be nice to be the other half, she thought, before the click of approaching heels caught her attention.

A very elegant, very beautiful older woman swept into the room. She had to be in her late fifties, but she looked substantially younger. Sleekly styled brown hair hung to her shoulders. She was thin, well-dressed and had the air of one born to society and money. Sabrina instantly felt dowdy. Her instinct was to take a step back in the presence of someone so different. Instead, she forced herself to square her shoulders and stand her ground.

“Good morning, Calhoun,” his mother said. “You're looking well. Taller than I remember. You get that from your father, of course. The Langtrys are always tall. We'll talk in the morning room. It's this way.” She motioned to a doorway on their right. “Your secretary can wait in the kitchen.” Mrs. Langtry offered Sabrina a slight smile. “It's through there, dear. Just past the dining room. Cook will get you some coffee and maybe a pastry.”

Before she could move, Sabrina felt Cal's hand on the small of her back. “That won't be necessary, Mother. Sabrina isn't my secretary, she's my personal assistant. I don't have any secrets from her. She'll be joining us this morning.”

His mother's expression didn't change, but her nose twitched slightly as if she'd accidently inhaled an unpleasant odor. Sabrina resisted the urge to tell Cal she was more than happy to wait in the kitchen with Cook. For one thing, she would like to find out if Cook actually had a first name, and maybe even discover the gender of that person.

Nerves, she told herself. Okay, so she wasn't a Langtry, but she was an Innis, and while they weren't exactly top drawer, she'd graduated at the head of her class at UCLA. She was bright, funny and good at her job. So what if no one in her family was listed in the social registry?

“As you wish,” Mrs. Langtry said, and led the way.

Sabrina stared at the woman's beige silk blouse. The fabric looked as if it was made from starlight, it was so smooth and flowing. Did the rich get fabric from a better class of silkworms? Did silk still come from worms? She would have to look that up when they got back to Texas.

The morning room was spacious and bright, with over-stuffed sofas and a low table set with coffee service. Sabrina saw there were only two cups. Mrs. Langtry pushed a button on the wall. When a young woman in a black dress with a starched white apron appeared, she ordered a third cup and some pastries.

Cal motioned for Sabrina to sit on one sofa. She was grateful when he settled next to her. She leaned close and whispered, “So do the afternoon and evening rooms get progressively bigger? I have no experience with this, you know. Back in California, we had one little old living room. It was good enough for the likes of us.”

Cal grinned. “I'll fill you in on architecture of the rich on the way back to the hotel. It's pretty interesting.”

“I'll bet.”

She glanced up and saw Mrs. Langtry frowning. Sabrina doubted the older woman had heard any part of their conver
sation, so she must be unhappy with their obvious familiarity. She thought about telling Cal's mother that there was nothing going on between them, nor was that ever going to change, but she figured the woman wouldn't believe her, and even if she did, she would pretend not to care.

The maid returned with a third cup, then quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mrs. Langtry poured coffee. She handed Cal his black, then looked expectantly at Sabrina. “Sugar? Cream?”

“Cream, please.”

Mrs. Langtry complied, then held out the cup. When Sabrina took it, the older woman's attention turned back to her son. “I still think whatever you want to discuss would be better done in private.”

“Sabrina knows it all, Mother. Well, not all. Obviously there are secrets even I'm not aware of, but those are the exception. After all, who do you think worked out the details of paying off Tracey's last husband?”

Mrs. Langtry's mouth pursed. “I see.”

Sabrina resisted the urge to hunch down on the seat. But she
had
been the one to take care of Tracey's problem. Cal's older sister had a bad habit of falling for men who were only interested in her money. She'd been married six times and had had an assortment of lovers, all of whom used her, taking what they could and leaving as soon as the funds dried up.

It was sad, she thought to herself. All this money and no one was happy. She remembered Ada's comments about Cal's mother being a cold witch. What no one could figure out was, had her husband fooled around because life was icy at home, or had his philandering caused the chill in the first place? Considering how they'd been raised, maybe it wasn't surprising the Langtry children hadn't found marital bliss, or even a decent relationship.

Cal set his cup on the coffee table. “Does the name Janice Thomas mean anything to you, Mother?”

“No.” She took a sip. “Should it?”

“Yes, actually it should. Unless Tracey has a couple of kids that I don't know about, Janice was the mother of your only grandchild.”

Mrs. Langtry drew in a deep breath. Her dark eyes, so like her son's, didn't waver. She took another sip, then nodded. “So you found out about the child. I suppose it was foolish to hope that unfortunate incident wouldn't come to light. Oh, well, you know about it now. No harm done.”

Sabrina felt Cal start to burn. The heat of his anger singed her skin. She placed a hand on his forearm and gave a quick squeeze. His glance of thanks told her that he had been about to lose control.

“I don't know which comment to address first,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “Your calling it an ‘incident' or the statement of ‘no harm done.' You played with lives, Mother. You kept information about a woman's pregnancy from me. You kept my child from me.”

She dismissed him with a wave. “You don't know what you're talking about. You were what, twenty-two? Did you actually want to marry the little gold-digger? I don't think so. Your father and I knew exactly what had to be done. Janice Thomas didn't want to marry you, she wanted money. Under the circumstances, it was simpler to pay her off. I don't regret it for a moment, and you shouldn't, either. We were prepared to set her up for life. It's hardly our fault that she died.”

Sabrina knew that Cal's mother was cold, but she hadn't expected to feel the frost seeping into her body. She was stunned by the woman's callous words and had to consciously keep her mouth from hanging open.

“We are talking about my daughter and your grandchild. You had no right—”

The older woman set her coffee cup on the table and glared at him. “We had every right,” she said, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “Your future was set, or it would have been if you'd ever bothered to settle down. You were going to run Langtry Oil and Gas. You barely knew the girl, so don't try to tell me you lost the love of your life. The truth is, you haven't thought of her once in the past thirteen years. All this righteous indignation over what? She was money-hungry trash. She got what she deserved.”

Cal set his teeth. “I'll admit I didn't fall in love with Janice. I take issue with your comment that she got what she deserved, but that is not the point. I had a child and you kept that information from me. You let your own grandchild be adopted. I'll bet you didn't bother to keep track of her.”

“No. Why should we? All this fuss. What's the point? The past is over. You wouldn't be interested in a child with a mother like Janice. I don't know how you found out about her, and I don't really care. If you want a child so much, marry someone suitable and have one. Stop chasing around with those young girls. You and your sister. Whatever did your father and I do to deserve such children?”

Cal rose to his feet. “Nothing, Mother. You two did nothing.”

“Where are you going?”

“Why does it matter?”

“You're going to do something stupid, aren't you. Something with the child. This is why we didn't tell you about Janice all those years ago. You would have married the mother, or at least taken responsibility for the child. We saved you that, but you're not grateful. You don't understand. You've never understood.”

“You're right, Mother. I don't understand. And yes, I'm going to go get
my
daughter, and I'm going to do my damnedest to be a good parent to her. But that's something
you
wouldn't understand.”

Sabrina didn't remember standing, but suddenly she was at Cal's side and they were leaving the room, closing the door behind them. Mrs. Langtry continued talking, her words fading as they moved away. Sabrina was grateful. She didn't want to hear anything else. She was too shocked. Knowing that Cal's mother was a cold woman was very different from experiencing it firsthand.