Lone Star Millionaire (7 page)

Anastasia took a bite of her cereal and chewed. The crunching sounded overloud to him. He tried not to wince.

“There's not much food here,” she said when she'd swallowed. “Just this cereal and milk. You don't eat here often, do you?”

“No.” He made the mistake of shaking his head and had to swallow a groan. The pounding by his temples was rhythmic—keeping time with his heartbeat. A nice steady
thunk, thunk, thunk,
at about sixty beats per minute. He felt clammy and his skin was one size too small. He didn't want to think about the army currently camping on his tongue.

“Mrs. Sellis didn't like me to eat too much. She said food was expensive. Is it going to be like that here?”

There was a note of worry in her voice. Cal forced himself to ignore his symptoms and look at his daughter. Before he could answer, she squared her shoulders and shrugged.

“I don't give a damn,” she said. “I don't need you, you know. I can run away from this place, just like I ran away from hers.”

“Tell you what, kid,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm, knowing giving into irritation would only make the hangover worse. “You stop swearing and I'll make sure you get enough to eat. We'll go to the grocery store as soon as Sabrina arrives.”

She eyed him mistrustfully. He had the feeling he was being measured against some invisible benchmark, and he knew in his gut he was going to come up short.

He waited for her to ask the inevitable “And if I don't?” for which he had no answer. But she didn't. She shrugged again, as if to say it didn't matter to her, then shoved a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

Cal inhaled the scent of coffee and realized the pot was full enough for him to pour a cup. He'd just taken his first healing sip when Sabrina breezed into the kitchen.

“'Morning, all,” she called in a bright, cheery, migraine-inducing voice. She looked at him and came to a stop. “You look—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Don't say it. Please. I know how I look. I feel worse, okay?”

“You earned it, Cal. You know better than that.”

“I know.” But even as he said it, some of the pain in his head receded. He had a feeling it had more to do with Sabrina's arrival than the miracle worked by coffee. “You brought luggage, didn't you?”

“Of course. I already put it in the other guest room.” She crossed to the table and sat across from Anastasia. “'Morning,” she said. “How'd you sleep?”

“Fine.” The preteen didn't bother looking up from her cereal.

“I hope you checked the dump date on the milk,” Sabrina said. “Your dad isn't one for keeping many groceries around. He eats out a lot, but I guess that's going to change.”

Anastasia didn't respond. Cal figured the only reason he wasn't being called the bastard who wasn't her father was because of the promise of food. He supposed he should feel some small sense of victory, but he didn't. No child should understand what it was like to be hungry.

Sabrina was unaffected by the silence. She tucked her short red hair behind her ears and leaned forward. “You look much better than you did yesterday. Did you sleep well?”

“I guess.”

“The clothes seem to be okay. They're a little big, but when you gain a couple of pounds, they should fit. We'll stop by the mall, too, later today to fill out your wardrobe.”

“Whatever.”

Sabrina glanced at Cal. “So what's the deal? You're deducting a dime from her allowance for every word she speaks?”

“No, but I did ask her to stop swearing.”

Sabrina's blue eyes twinkled, although her expression
stayed serious. “Maybe she doesn't know any other words. It could have been the school system.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes. “I know plenty of words. I just don't want to talk to you. Why is that a big deal?”

“Oh, it's not, I guess,” Sabrina said. “I understand why you want to be sullen. After all, you've got a nice place to live, a father who wants to take care of you, a fun, witty and incredibly intelligent woman who would like to be your friend, new clothes and a chance for a new life. What a drag. I'd have a long face, too.”

Twelve-year-old lips twisted. “Very funny.”

“See? Witty as promised.” She got up and crossed to the cupboard, where she removed a bowl. When she returned to the table, she poured herself some cereal and picked up the milk.

As Cal watched her movements, he tried to figure out what was different. There was something about Sabrina this morning, something that—

He arched his eyebrows, then regretted the movement as more pain shot through his head. The woman was dressed in jeans. He'd seen her in slacks plenty of times, those loose-fitting tailored ones that always looked so businesslike. But this time she wore butt-hugging, curve-tracing, washed-enough-times-to-be-soft-as-a-baby's-rear jeans.

Hot damn! He eyed the exposed flare of her hips, the dip of her waist, before moving to her legs. Now, if he could just get her to exchange that green T-shirt for something a little more form-fitting, he would be a happy man.

Anastasia finished her breakfast and stood up. “What do you want from me?” she demanded. “I didn't ask to be here.”

“I know,” Sabrina said. “But you are and it's not a bad idea to make the best of things. As for what we want, I can't speak for your dad, but I'd like you to give this place a try. I doubt it can be much worse than what you've been through. You might think about being civil. Cooperating is much nicer than fighting all the time. Try a smile.”

Anastasia curled her fingers up into fists. “I don't feel like smiling.”

“I know, honey. It's hard to lose your family, then come to a strange place. No one is asking you to—”

Tears filled the girl's eyes. “You don't know. You don't know anything. It's horrible. It's the most horrible thing ever.”

With that, she ran from the room. A few seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut. The sound reverberated through the condo. Cal winced.

He took another sip of coffee. This was harder than he'd thought. “How long is she going to keep doing that?” he asked. “Running away and slamming doors.”

Sabrina shook her head. “For as long as it works.”

S
abrina pushed the grocery cart around the corner and glanced at the boxes of cereal. Why did there have to be so many choices? She looked around for Anastasia to ask the preteen what she liked best, then wondered if Cal had a preference.

She glanced at her boss who had gotten quiet in the past hour or so. “All the shopping getting to you?” she asked.

Cal shrugged. “It's not so bad.” He turned, as if checking for his daughter, then lowered his voice. “She hasn't been fun, but she's been more pleasant than I expected.”

Sabrina thought about Anastasia's sullen expression and lack of communication. “Gee, you weren't expecting much then, were you?”

“Not really.”

Sabrina drew in a breath. “That's probably wise. I'm sure she didn't sleep that well, what with being in a strange place. This is unfamiliar for all of us and it's going to take some time to adjust.”

“Yeah.” Cal stared at the row of cereal and reached for a box of chocolate flavored crisps. “I haven't had these since I was a kid. I didn't know they still made them. Great.” He tossed the box in the cart, then caught Sabrina's eye. “What?”

“This is your way of setting a nutritional example for your daughter?”

“They've been fortified with several essential vitamins and minerals.”

“Oh, there's a defense. And when combined with milk, they're part of a wholesome breakfast.”

He grinned. “Exactly. You saw the commercial, too.”

“Yes. The difference is I didn't buy into it. Cal, you cannot have this kind of cereal in the house. It's disgusting.”

“So is that bird feed you eat. Real people don't dine on raw grains.”

“Real people can do what they want.”

“Maybe but this is my house and I'm the one paying for the food.”

They stared at each other. She knew she wasn't going to win this one. Cal would buy his disgusting cereal and there wasn't anything she could do about it, except maybe pick out something slightly more nutritional and hope that Anastasia had a little common sense.

“Fine.” She grabbed a box of whole grain cereal and tossed it in the cart as well. “You're determined to always get your way.”

“I know. It's why you like me.”

She didn't reply to that. What was the point? She couldn't deny that she did like him, for an assortment of reasons. Having won the current skirmish, he strolled ahead of her. She watched him go, trying not to notice the way he moved with an easy male grace. His legs were long and muscled. His butt, well, religions had been based on less impressive shrines. He was a package worth remembering, but not for her. She might be susceptible, but she wasn't stupid.

She followed him up the aisle. “You're going to have to hire a housekeeper,” she said. “Now that Anastasia is living with you, cleaning people every couple of weeks aren't going to be enough. Someone will have to cook and be there to look after her when she comes home from school. Maybe a live-in, or at least someone full-time.”

“I agree.”

“I'll add it to my list of things to do,” she said, having known when she mentioned the subject that she would be the person calling the agencies and interviewimg candidates. It was, after all, part of her job. “Until we get someone in, I can take care of the cooking.”

Cal looked surprised. “You can cook?”

“Most people can fix a few things. Don't look so surprised. I make a terrific spaghetti sauce, not to mention a meat loaf that could win awards.”

“A woman of many talents. What else have you been keeping from me?”

Brown eyes focused on her. She felt her heart pick up the pace a little. Ignore this, she reminded herself. Cal was her boss and nothing else.

“You'll have to wait and find out,” she told him, then deliberately turned away to study the display of coffee. Perhaps reading about different kinds of beans would be enough to distract her.

Anastasia rounded the end of the aisle and started toward them. She was still too thin, but at least she looked better in her new clothes. She was pale, but she would tan quickly, Sabrina thought, then added sunscreen to the lengthy shopping list.

“I forgot to ask,” Sabrina said as the girl got closer. “Do you have any food allergies?”

The preteen shrugged. “I hate vegetables.”

Sabrina shot Cal a warning glance before he chimed in that
he did, too. “Hating isn't the same as being allergic, so the short answer is no, right?”

Anastasia's mouth twisted into a frown. “Vegetables make me throw up.”

“Oh, is that all? You're going to have to work harder than that if you plan to avoid eating them.” She made a couple of notes on her list.

Anastasia tossed a box of cupcakes into the cart. Sabrina stared at the treat. She'd forgotten what it had been like when she'd shopped with her brother and sisters, but it was all coming back.

“I'm buying enough food for about six days,” Sabrina said. “You're welcome to select a treat for yourself, but only one and it has to last all six days. So if you want that box of cupcakes, it's fine with me. But that's it. No chips, no candy. Or you take it back and pick something else. It's up to you.”

Anastasia stared at her uncomprehending. “He's rich.”

Sabrina assumed the “he” in question was Cal, and that the statement about him being rich meant that money wasn't an issue.

“So?” she asked.

“So I should get what I want.”

“That would be a no. There aren't many ‘shoulds' in this household. However, there are plenty of ‘wills' as in you will follow the rules and this is one of them. You can get what we decide you can get, and for now, that means one treat for the week. I would suggest picking something with six servings so you can enjoy it every day, but that's up to you.”

Sometime during the conversation Cal had come up behind her. Sabrina felt his presence. For a second she wondered if he was going to contradict her, but he didn't. When Anastasia turned her attention to him, he grinned. “She's right, kid.”

The girl grabbed the box of cupcakes. “I hate you both,” she said, and started down the aisle.

“That was pleasant,” Sabrina said, trying to keep her voice even. She had known it was going to be tough; she'd even known she was going to be more involved with Anastasia than her job description indicated. But being right wasn't always enough to make up for the difficulties of the moment.

“I know what you're thinking,” Cal said.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“You're thinking that she's scared and alone and that she needs to figure out how far she can push us.”

Sabrina stared at him in surprise. “I would have guessed the ‘alone and scared' part, but I hadn't thought about boundary testing. You're exactly right. This is an unfamiliar situation for her, and she needs to learn how far she's allowed to go at any given time. I'm impressed.”

“Hey, I'm an impressive kind of guy.”

He was, she thought with resignation. Always had been, always would be. The truth was, Cal never lacked for female companionship because most women found him completely irresistible. No doubt Anastasia would soon join the fan club.

They rounded the next aisle and saw Anastasia reading a teen magazine. When she glanced up and noticed them, she scowled and moved away.

“She wasn't kidding,” he said unhappily. “She really hates us.”

“Everyone needs to adjust, Cal. You can't take it too personally.”

“She's my daughter. How am I supposed to take it?”

“Slowly. Carefully. There aren't going to be any easy answers.”

He nodded. “I didn't think it would be like this.”

“I know.” He thought it would be simple. But few things in life ever were. “The good news is, you won't have to do this on your own for very long.”

“I don't have to do this on my own now. I have you.”

She grabbed a couple of cans of tomatoes, along with some tomato sauce. If she was going to make Gram's famous spaghetti sauce, she needed all the ingredients. “That's not what I meant,” she told him. “I'm talking about something permanent.”

“You're permanent. Aren't you?”

Oops! She hadn't meant to hint at anything. “Okay, bad word choice,” she said, recovering quickly. “What I'm trying to say is that I just work for you. Even if you're right about Tiffany running in the opposite direction to avoid being a stepmother, she's not the only single woman out there. A lot of them would be pleased to help you with Anastasia. In fact, you're going to have to be careful, because more than a few of them will use Anastasia to get to you.”

“Great.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I'm not going to worry about it now. I can't imagine going out with anyone. As far as I'm concerned, the only two females in my life are you and my daughter.”

She told herself that her sudden response was triggered by the sight of him walking in front of her, which gave her far too much opportunity to stare at his rear. Or maybe it was guilt over the fact that she was really going to contact those headhunters to find out if there was life after Calhoun Jefferson Langtry. Or maybe it was that she was tired from not having slept much the previous night. Whatever the reason, when Cal said she was one of the two females in his life, she wanted to melt. Right there…knees buckling, muscles giving way until she was just a puddle in the canned goods aisle.

“How long is that going to last?” she asked, then went on without waiting for an answer. “My point is, you're not always going to be on your own with Anastasia. You two will come to some kind of understanding, then you'll find someone and it will all work out.”

“That's really likely. Thanks.”

She ignored his sarcasm and continued down the aisle.
Sabrina paused in front of the magazines and picked up the current issue of one popular with girls Anastasia's age. “For later,” she said, hiding it under a package of paper towels. “Surprise her when things are going well. She'll like it.”

“You're assuming that will happen before the issue is outdated,” he muttered.

Sabrina chuckled. “So the surly nature is inherited. Like father, like daughter?”

“I am not surly.”

“I can see that. You're also not cranky when you don't get your own way.”

He gave her his steely-eyed glare. It worked on most business opponents, but she'd seen it enough to be pretty immune.

“Yup,” she said. “Just like I thought. Surly. I'll bet you were a sulker, too, when you didn't get your own way as a kid.”

“I resent this, Sabrina. Make no mistake, you are an employee and can be replaced.”

She laughed. “Uh-huh. Sure, Mr. Langtry.”

Before he could reply, Anastasia approached the cart. She had a bag of chips in one hand and chocolate in the other. “This is what I want,” she said. “Both of them.”

Sabrina stared at her. She knew she'd been speaking English just a few minutes ago. Then she recognized the challenge in the girl's eyes. Fine, if she wanted to do a little testing, Sabrina was more than up to the task.

Cal shifted uncomfortably. “Well, the bag of chips looks small,” he said. “It wouldn't last a chipmunk for a week.”

Sabrina looked at him. He clamped his lips together and nodded. “Okay. One treat, Anastasia. Just one. Decide.”

His daughter glared at him, then tossed the candy into the cart. “I can't believe you're doing this,” she said before she flounced off.

“Me, neither,” Cal said softly, watching her go. “Jeez, Sabrina, I wouldn't be able to get through this without you. I feel like I'm going to mess up every time I turn around.”

“You'll get the hang of it. I have the advantage of younger siblings that I helped raise. But it's not so hard.”

“That's what I tell everyone about finding oil, but no one believes me.” He touched her upper arm. “Thanks.”

He headed for the front of the store. Sabrina forced herself to concentrate on her list rather than watching her boss walk away. The tingling in her arm subsided after a couple of seconds and she was soon able to draw in an undisturbed breath.

This whole situation was incredibly dangerous to her. She hadn't seen that at first, but she was figuring it out, and fast. Normally they spent a lot of time together, but there was always business between them. Even when they traveled, it wasn't
personal.
But this was. Having to deal with Anastasia put them into a situation they'd never experienced before. They were talking about many things best left unsaid, seeing sides of each other that should remain hidden. Cal could probably get through this without giving any of it a moment's thought, but she wasn't that disinterested. No matter how she tried to ignore the reality, the man got to her.

Him needing her, depending on her, the sudden intimacy of family, all conspired to make her think about belonging…about this being real.

“You know better,” she said aloud. She'd always known better. She wasn't Cal's type, he didn't find her attractive, and even if he did, what was the point? Cal thrilled to the chase, but once he'd caught his flavor of the month, he wasn't that eager to keep her around. She didn't want a brief affair. Actually she didn't know what she wanted, but she believed with all her heart it was much safer to stay professional, no matter how strong the temptation to make it more.

 

Cal watched as Sabrina stepped into his study and hit the switch by the door. He blinked in the sudden light.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Sitting in the dark,” he said. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

He leaned back in his desk chair and motioned for her to take a seat on the leather sofa by the bookcase. She did as he requested.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.