The Texan's Secret (6 page)

She clenched her hands together in her lap. “All I know about Jack is what my mom told me, and it’s all good.”

“No offense, but I think Blanche enjoyed the money and the life of luxury.”

Shay couldn’t help but smile. “She always did like the finer things.”

Chance grinned back, and Shay wrapped her arms around her waist to stop the pleasure flowing through her. He had an off-the-Richter-scale smile.

“Take the test.” He pushed the paper closer. “It can only help you. And while you’re in Houston I’ll take you out to lunch or dinner. Your choice.” He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket, reached for the paper and wrote his number on the back. She noticed his strong hands.

She took the sheet and met his gaze, wondering if that last part had just slipped out before he’d thought about it. He was asking her for a date, but she couldn’t get involved with Chance Hardin.

“Okay.” She laid the paper in front of her. “I’ll take the test so everyone will know the truth.”

“Good,” he said and got to his feet. Picking up his Stetson, he moved toward the front door, his boots making a thudding sound on the old linoleum. He stopped by the sofa and stared down at Darcy. Tiny was now curled up in her arms. “Those boys could have really hurt her.”

“I know. I was just a couple seconds too late. I had finished giving a lady a perm and was taking her money when I saw them chase Darcy and Petey to the front yard. Thank you for coming to the rescue.”

Chance walked out the door and turned. “No problem. So you work at the beauty shop next door?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Would you like a manicure?”

“Thanks, but I’m not the manicure type.”

“I knew that.”

“How?”

“Cowboys don’t get manicures.”

“You got that right, except I had this cowboy friend who was getting married and he got a manicure and a pedicure. He wanted to make sure there was no dirt under his nails. They’d been dating for over a year. I told him if his gal hadn’t seen dirt under his fingers and toes by now they were in big trouble.”

Shay laughed out loud and realized she hadn’t done so in a long time. She’d been under too much stress.

Smiling, he placed his hat on his head. “When I get married, I’ll let you give me a manicure, but I don’t like anyone messing with my feet.”

On instinct she stepped closer. “And I promise to
make it a pleasant experience.” From the gleam in his eyes she knew they were talking about something else entirely and Shay hadn’t been in those emotional waters for a very long time so she was treading lightly.

As his eyes darkened she forgot about lightly, forgot about not getting involved with him, and kissed his roughened cheek, breathing in his manly scent. “Thank you for helping Darcy, Chance.”

Before she could move away, he cupped her face with his callused hands and kissed her lips softly. As his mouth moved over hers, it felt like the first sip of a martini, feeling the kick and wanting more.

“Mommy.” Darcy’s call effectively ended the kiss before it deepened.

“You better go,” Chance said, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. Then he walked toward his truck.

She shivered, feeling deprived of something she wanted. Something she needed.

What was she doing? She couldn’t get involved with him. But, oh, he was tempting.

C
HANCE HAD NO PROBLEM
finding Shilah Oil in downtown Houston. He’d been there before. The Murdock building was twelve stories high, with a huge sculpture of an oil derrick out front surrounded by flower beds.

He found a parking spot and got out. Glancing around at the crowded buildings, he experienced a moment of suffocation. He preferred wide-open spaces and fresh air. Sitting in an office all day wasn’t for him. He liked the action of the actual drilling, and that’s what he planned to do in his new job. He had to convince Cadde of that before he agreed to anything.

He walked into a large lobby with a marble floor. Above the round reception desk was a portrait of Roscoe and Alfred Murdock—brothers who’d started Shilah Oil in the 1940s. Al and his wife had passed on soon after the murder of their daughter, and Roscoe had become the sole owner. But when the oil business got rough, Roscoe took on investors who now sat on the board. He never made the company public, however. Shilah was Roscoe’s own private empire, with a few friends who backed him.

Shilah
meant brother in Navajo, and Chance thought
that was very fitting for today—brothers working together.

Sofas, plants and chairs stood here and there. A pretty, green-eyed blonde sat at the reception desk. But they weren’t the right green for him.

He still couldn’t get that kiss out of his mind. Shay had felt and tasted just like he thought she would—all soft, sweet and enticing. Kissing her had short-circuited every other emotion in him. He wanted her, and she seemed to feel the same.

“May I help you?” Somewhere in his brain he heard the receptionist’s sugarcoated words.

He quickly collected himself. “What floor is Cadde Hardin on?” After Roscoe’s death, Cadde had inherited a new office, and Chance wasn’t sure exactly where. He hadn’t told his brothers he was coming, so this was going to be a surprise.

The blonde smiled. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

She winked and he knew he was getting the come-on, but he wasn’t interested. “I’ll call his secretary and see if I can get you in,” she told him, but as she picked up the phone he saw a directory on the wall. Cadde’s name was at the top. Chance walked off to an elevator on the right.

“Hey, Mr.—” the receptionist called. The doors closed, cutting off whatever she was going to say.

Getting off the elevator moments later, Chance glanced around at the names on doors. Then he saw the large door at the end of the hall, with Cadde Hardin, CEO written boldly on it. He strolled in that direction.
Opening the door, he walked into a secretary’s office, but no one sat at the desk. She must be on an errand or something, he figured. Another door with Cadde’s name on it was slightly ajar and he could hear Cadde and Cisco. He could hear them very well, since they were yelling at each other.

“Stay away from the receptionist, Kid. She was in your office three times this morning. What does my receptionist have to do in your office?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Chance looked through the crack and saw Cadde at a big oak desk. Kid sat in the leather chair across from him, his booted feet propped on the desk. Cadde stood in an angry movement and knocked their brother’s boots to the floor. Kid was instantly on his feet.

“Anything that concerns this company concerns me,” Cadde yelled. He grabbed a large folder from his desk and slammed it down in front of Kid. “Has the Wilcox lease been signed? The Bradens’? The Carvers’? No. Because you’ve been fooling around with the receptionist. It ends now, Kid. I mean it.”

“Now you’re going to tell me who I can date?” Cisco took only so much before he exploded.

“If it concerns this company.”

“God, all you ever think about is the company.”

“You’re damn right I do. I want this enterprise to succeed, not only for myself but for Dad’s dream to come true.”

Chance sagged against the wall. How could he tell them?

“So what’s it going to be?” Cadde asked, sounding a little calmer.

Instead of answering, Kid said, “You’re so wound up you’re about to fly out of this room. Have you got a thing for the blonde?”

“I’m gonna break your damn neck,” Cadde shouted, moving around the desk toward Kid.

Chance pushed open the door before a full-blown fight erupted. It reminded him of his childhood, always breaking up fights between Cadde and Kid. “Is this what I have to look forward to, working for Shilah Oil?”

Cadde swung around. “Chance!” The next minute he had him in a bear hug so tight he could barely breathe. Kid pulled Cadde away and hugged Chance in turn.

“Are you serious?” Cadde asked. “You’re joining us?”

“Yep, or you two are going to kill each other.”

Kid thrust a thumb toward Cadde. “It’s him. Remember that old rooster Mom used to have? We could just step out of the house and he’d attack us, for no reason. Cadde reminds me of that rooster—always on the attack.”

“Shut up, Kid.” Cadde walked toward a large map on the wall and motioned Chance over. “We’re drilling beneath the Austin Chalk to tap into the Buda, Georgetown and the Glen Rose formations. So far we’ve had success in the Giddings field using horizontal well technologies, which you’re very familiar with.”

“Yep. Busted my butt on a lot of those wells.”

“By drilling deeper we’re having phenomenal
results. The Eagle Ford shale beneath the Austin Chalk is hell to get through, though. That’s why I want someone with your experience on the job.” He tapped the map. “The Rodessa field in northeast Texas extends into Louisiana. Roscoe bought some of those leases back in the 1960s. He never drilled in Louisiana but kept renewing the leases. I’m trying to get the board to approve a drilling site in Caddo Parish, but Jessie votes it down every time and Roscoe’s old cronies vote with her.”

A change came over Cadde’s face, but in an instant it was gone. He tapped the map again. “The green dots are where we’re drilling now, the red dots leases that have been signed and are ready for drilling. The blue ones are leases we’re trying to sign, but for some reason or another they haven’t been.” He glanced at Kid.

“Okay, okay,” their brother said and headed for the door. “Glad to have you aboard, Chance.”

“And get a damn haircut,” Cadde yelled after him.

Before Kid could retaliate, Chance jumped in. “I need a place to stay until I can find an apartment. Can I bunk with one of you?”

Kid frowned. “I have a date tonight and she might want to stay over.”

Cadde groaned. “Those leases had better be signed by tomorrow.”

“Come on, Cadde.”

Cadde pointed a finger at Kid. “Tomorrow.” He walked to his desk. “With Jessie around it’s about thirty degrees at my house.”

“I wonder why,” Kid murmured under his breath.

Cadde ignored him. “But you can stay at the Shilah Oil apartment.” He threw Chance a pair of keys. “It’s at the other end of the hall. Roscoe stayed in it, especially if he had a woman over.”

“Thanks.”

“So you’re staying at the house tonight?” Kid couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Don’t you usually stay at the apartment?”

“Go to work, Kid.”

Kid winked at Chance. “Must be a board meeting coming up. Cadde always tries to sweet-talk Jessie into voting his way. It never works. He can’t sweet-talk a two-year-old.”

“Go to work, Kid, or I
am
going to break your neck,” Cadde responded.

Kid saluted and walked out.

Chance removed his hat and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of Cadde’s desk. “What’s my job?”

“Drilling operations. We have too many roustabouts who are fooling around and causing accidents. Last month two wells came in late because of silly incidents. I want those wells in on time.” Cadde pointed upward. “There’s a Shilah helicopter on the roof. “We try to keep our two rigs going at all times, but sometimes they break down. That costs us time, and when the rigs are idle that costs Shilah money. I would like for you to visit each well every day and make sure things are on schedule, and they’re following safety regulations. I want every worker to know that a boss is watching them.”

“I can handle that,” Chance said. “I was going to tell you that I’m not sitting at a desk all day. I like the outdoors.”

“Well, brother, you’ll be outdoors—a lot. Not on a horse, but in a helicopter. God bless Dane Belle. Who else would give teenage boys flying lessons? And God bless Aunt Etta and Uncle Ru for allowing Dane to indulge us.” Cadde paused. “God, I miss him.” There was a moment of silence, and then Cadde looked at him. “Have you kept your license up to date?”

Chance shifted in his seat. “Yeah. I fly once a month at the Giddings airport. I just never knew when I was going to use it for real.” They seldom had a conversation that didn’t include their father or Dane, and sometimes both. One was worthy, the other not, but Chance was the only one who knew that. Telling his brothers the truth was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he’d made up his mind.

Cadde pulled a piece of paper forward and wrote on it. “Shilah’s warehouse where the rigs are worked on is out on US 290. Trucks and supplies are kept there, too. I’ll give you a key.”

“Okay.” Chance leaned forward. “Let’s talk about salary.”

Cadde scribbled a number by the address. “You’ll receive a monthly salary, a seat on the board and a percent of the profits at the end of each quarter. Sometimes there’s a profit, sometimes not. Roscoe, not being in good health, made a lot of bad decisions in his last year. I’m trying to get everything back on track.”

Chance reached for the paper and stared at the number. “This is higher than I expected.”

“And it’s going to get better,” his brother boasted.

Chance reached into his pocket and pulled out a check. Placing it in front of Cadde, he asked, “Is that enough for my share?”

Cadde glanced at it. “Been saving those pennies, have you?”

“You bet. With free room and board there’s not much to spend my wages on.”

“Except a fancy truck.”

Chance nodded. “Just one that does the job.”

Cadde stood. “Let’s go down the hall and I’ll show you your office.”

Chance looked around Cadde’s big office, that had its own private elevator. One wall was of glass, showcasing Houston and beyond. The floor was shiny hardwood, with an Oriental rug in front of the desk. On the wall behind was another portrait of Roscoe and Al. Though it had been through its ups and downs, the company was currently thriving. A lot of that had to do with Cadde.

Chance’s heart stopped when he noticed a framed photo sitting on an antique table: Chuck Hardin and his three boys. Chance remembered the day it was taken. Cadde and Kid’s basketball team had just won the district and were headed for the state championship—a week before the accident. A week before their world was shattered.

Chance swallowed hard, pushing memories away. “I hope it’s not as lavish as this one.”

“Nah. This is Roscoe’s old office. He believed in spending his money. I saved one down the hall just for you.”

Chance placed his hat on his head and got to his feet. “You were that sure I was coming?”

“Yep. You’ve heard about Dad’s dream for us most of your life, and I knew you wouldn’t forget that.”

No, he never forgot his father—neither the man he was nor the man he used to be.

T
HE
DNA
TEST TOOK ONLY
a few minutes. They swabbed Shay’s mouth, dropped the swab in a glass tube and labeled it. The girl told her she’d get the results within two weeks. And that was it. Shay had left work at four, thinking it would take longer.

She stood outside the lab, staring at Chance’s phone number. Should she or shouldn’t she? She wanted to but…

Getting into her rental car, she shoved the paper back into her purse. It was the right thing to do. Why didn’t it feel right?

Backing out, she saw she had plenty of time before her class at the University of Houston. One day she’d get her degree so she could make a better life for Darcy, but finishing a degree in elementary education was taking forever, since she could only take night classes.

Instead of meeting Chance she drove to the Galleria Mall and shopped, something she rarely did. She found some jeans and a T-shirt for Darcy on sale. That was Shay’s limit. She hated pinching pennies, but she should be used to it. She’d done it all her life.

The whole time she was shopping she kept glancing at her watch. She could be having dinner with Chance, could be looking into those dark eyes. But she wasn’t ready for a relationship, especially with a Hardin from High Cotton, Texas.

She stopped dead in the middle of the mall—so abruptly that a woman bumped into her, then gave her the evil eye. Shay ignored her and sank onto a bench. How could she tell Chance about her mother’s many lovers? And that Blanche’s number one goal had been to make it back to High Cotton and Jack Calhoun? She’d used many men to accomplish that, but it never happened. Blanche had caused only heartache and pain, and it was best for Shay not to get involved with anyone from that small community.

Basically, Shay was an honest person, and if she saw Chance she’d eventually have to tell him how vindictive her mother could be.

She reached in her purse for the number, intending to throw it in the trash. But for some reason she shoved it back inside once more.

Oh God! Was she going to be like her mother?

M
ARCH TURNED INTO
A
PRIL
and a lot of rainy days kept drilling to a minimum. That gave Chance time to settle into the oil business and get acquainted with everyone.

Right away he called Aunt Etta, to let her know he was okay and adjusting. He made a mental note to phone every week to make sure they were all right. That was the only drawback about moving to Houston—he
wouldn’t be there to help them. One of the Belle sisters would call, though, if anything happened.

He traded his cowboy boots, Stetson and horse for a hard hat, steel-toed work boots and a helicopter. He’d forgotten how much he liked to fly. Roscoe’s helicopter was a top-of-the-line Bell with all the trimmings. It was blue and white, with Shilah Oil written on each side. The man did like to spend money.