Читать книгу: «Expecting A Lone Star Heir»

One

April

After driving past miles of mesquite, dry creek beds and cacti, Mike turned and stopped at a pair of tall wrought iron gates. As soon as he punched in the code he had been given, the gates slid open and he drove through beneath a high ornate iron arch that claimed this to be the Tumbling T Ranch.

Eight miles from the state road, he saw fenced grounds ahead. Among the trees, ponds and white fences was what looked like a small town of houses, offices, barns and outbuildings, all dominated by a stately mansion. The grand home reminded Mike again of Thane Warner’s millionaire status and his wife’s family of billionaires. As if Mike needed the reminder.

He soon wound up the long drive to the front of the sprawling three-story stone home with slate roofs and wings built on the east and west sides.

He swore quietly. He didn’t want this job. It was one thing to accept Thane’s offer to go to work on the Warner spread when they expected to come home and work together. It was another to return to civilian life and run a ranch for a widow he didn’t know and who didn’t know ranching.

It had been last year when Thane had first asked Mike to think about a job on the Tumbling T Ranch. Thane’s older foreman had had back trouble and had decided to retire. The foreman had said he would wait until Thane was out of the military and had time to hire someone to take his place. Mike had planned to get a job working on a ranch once he was discharged, so why not work for a man he’d come to like and admire? Besides, the job came with a good salary.

But Thane didn’t make it back home.

Mike cast his eyes on the sprawling ranch, as he recalled the days following his friend’s death. He had followed Thane’s request and used the key Thane had given him to open a lockbox he’d stored in their makeshift camp. Opening the box, he found an odd assortment of stuff, including Thane’s cotton T-shirts, some socks, and in the bottom, three fat packets wrapped in wrinkled, torn brown paper and tied with twine. One was addressed to Mike, one to Noah and one to Jake. Mike passed them out. When he opened his envelope he read a note scribbled on a piece of torn brown paper: Mike, please give this to Vivian. He looked at his friends as he held up another envelope. “I’m to take this home to his wife.”

Noah scratched his jaw that was covered in black stubble. “Yeah, I’m to take one to his sister.”

Noah and Mike looked at Jake who held up his brown envelope. “And I’m to take this to someone who works for his dad.” They all looked at each other and Mike guessed his friends were feeling the same as he was.

“Thane was the best,” he said. “We’ve got to do what he wanted.”

The others nodded and moved away to stash the envelopes safely until they could get home. Mike knew he was the only one who had another note in the box. That note informed him there was a packet for him hidden in among Thane’s things. Mike rummaged through the lockbox and found it quickly. A thick packet shoved down in the toes of a well-worn army sock. Mike opened the fat brown envelope and found more brown paper tied in twine. This one had a note in Thane’s handwriting: Mike, you are the only one getting this. It is yours now. I won’t ever miss it. You’ll earn it. Please take the other packet to Vivian.

Mike unwrapped the brown paper to find a stack of bills. He stared at them a moment in shock. He picked up one and looked at it closely. It was a one-thousand dollar bill. He’d never even seen one before. He thumbed through the stack of twenty-five. He read Thane’s note again and shook his head. He didn’t know why Thane had given him the gift. It was no secret that Thane came from a wealthy family. Along with his two brothers and sister, he was a multimillionaire, and his wife a billionaire heiress, so Thane would never have needed the money if he had lived, but it still was an odd gift. Mike shook his head again, wondering if Thane thought he was poverty-stricken since he was the only one of their group of four friends who wasn’t a millionaire. No, he knew that wasn’t the case because Thane was practical and Mike had never known him to throw money away. That day, and every day since, each time he looked at the bills, he thought of Thane and wanted his friend with him instead of the money.

Now with Thane gone, the foreman job didn’t appeal to Mike, but a promise was a promise. Mike wasn’t going back on his word.

From scuttlebutt and by piecing together things Thane had said, Mike knew Thane’s artist wife was the daughter of a billionaire Dallas hotel magnate, plus now she had inherited Thane’s millions from his ranch and oil interests. Vivian and Thane had only been married a few months when he’d left for Afghanistan. She knew nothing about ranching and Thane had constantly worried about her. Also, he hated to think that if something happened to him, she would sell the ranch and return home to Dallas where she had lived when she was single.

As he stepped out of the car, he pulled on his western-cut navy jacket. His gaze ran over the sprawling gray stone mansion that looked as if it should be in an exclusive Dallas suburb instead of sitting on a mesquite-covered prairie. The mansion was surrounded by beds of spring flowers. Beyond the beds was lush green grass that had to be watered constantly in the dry Texas heat. A tall black wrought iron fence with open gates circled the mansion yard.

After running his fingers through his wavy ebony hair, Mike put on his broad-brimmed black Stetson. As he strode to the front door, he realized he had felt less reluctance walking through minefields in Afghanistan. He crossed the wide porch that held steel and glass furniture with colorful cushions, pots of greenery and fresh flowers. He listened to the door chimes and in seconds, the ten-foot intricately carved wooden door swung open. He faced an actual butler.

“I’m Mike Moretti. I have an appointment with Mrs. Warner.”

“Ah, yes, we’re expecting you. Come in. I’m Henry, sir.”

Mike stepped into a wide entryway with a huge crystal chandelier centered overhead above a small pond where a fountain splashed and deep purple and bright pink water lilies added to the ambiance. It was hard to picture the down-to-earth, tough US Army Ranger, Thane Warner as the owner of this elegant mansion.

“If you’ll wait here, sir, I’ll tell Mrs. Warner you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you,” Mike replied, nodding at the butler who turned and disappeared into a room off the hall. With neatly trimmed brown hair, Henry wore a white shirt and a matching black tie and trousers. Mike noticed he also wore boots and when he had shown Mike in, his hands looked rough. His shoulders were thick and broad. Mike suspected Henry might not spend all his time working inside the mansion.

He reappeared. “If you’ll come with me, sir, Mrs. Warner is in the study.” Mike followed him until Henry stopped at an open door. “Mrs. Warner, this is Mike Moretti.”

“Come in, Mr. Moretti,” she said, smiling as she walked toward him.

He entered a room filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound books. After the first glance, he forgot his surroundings and focused solely on the woman approaching him.

Mike had seen Thane’s pictures of his wife—one in his billfold, one he carried in his duffel bag. Mike knew from those pictures that she was pretty. But those pictures hadn’t done her justice, because in real life, Vivian Warner was a downright beauty. She had big blue eyes, shoulder-length blond hair, flawless peaches-and-cream complexion and full rosy lips. The bulky, conservative tan sweater and slacks she wore couldn’t fully hide her womanly curves and long legs.

What had he gotten himself into? For a moment he was tempted to go back on his promise. But as always, he would remember those last hours with Thane’s blood running over his hands, recall too easily Thane dying in a foreign land after fighting for his country, and Mike knew he had to keep his promise. His only hope was that Thane’s widow wouldn’t want him to work for her.

“Mr. Moretti, I’m glad to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Thane,” she said, offering her hand.

“It’s Mike,” he said, smiling as he took her soft hand in his. The moment he did, he felt a tingling up his arm that shocked him.

“And I’m Vivian,” she said, her eyes widening when his hand wrapped around hers. Her words came out breathlessly, making Mike feel he had walked into a major disaster. Their gazes locked and he couldn’t get his breath, either. For a moment he felt a hot, intense awareness of her as a woman. A very desirable woman. And judging by her startled expression and the quick intake of her breath, he had a feeling she felt a similar reaction.

His focus shifted to her lips, a rosy temptation. Realizing they were staring at each other and standing too close, he released her hand. When he did, she stepped back, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Perhaps she labeled the attraction as unwanted as he did.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mike said. “Your husband was a friend I’ll miss,” he added, trying to get his mind back to Thane instead of on his widow.

“Thank you. Thane was special. Please have a seat,” she said softly. She walked toward an arrangement of chairs and as he followed, he couldn’t take his eyes off the curve of her hips.

Mike did not want this scalding awareness of his late buddy’s wife. And he damn well didn’t want to work for Vivian Warner.

Perhaps... He couldn’t help the thought that overtook his mind. Perhaps, because she knew so little about ranching, if he took the job, she would turn running the ranch over to him and he would seldom see or talk to her. Maybe, but... Common sense told him to thank her for the job and decline the offer. But each time he thought about backing off, he knew he had to keep his promise. Thane had fought and died not only for rights, freedom and home, but for promises kept and for trusted friends. He had fought for this ranch he loved and the wife he loved. Mike also thought about that fat packet of money Thane had given him, money he’d already squirreled away and invested.

Mike would do what he felt was right, but he hoped with all his being that he rarely ever saw his new boss. This was not the woman for him and there were more than a billion reasons—each and every one of the billions she was worth. Vivian Warner was an heiress, his friend’s wife, the woman Thane had entrusted to him to take care of. He couldn’t give in to the fiery attraction and seduce her—and betray that trust. For all those reasons, she was off-limits, not the least of which was the fact that he could never move in her circle.

Vivian motioned him to a brown leather wingback chair, then sat farther away than was necessary. He realized that she may have felt as trapped by this situation as he did. Thane had offered him the job and had wanted him as the foreman. Like Mike, she obviously was also following Thane’s wishes now.

“Thank you for taking this job,” she said, her voice lilting, soft-spoken. “Thane wrote a glowing letter about you and said I could count on you to run this place the way he would want. I appreciate that. I know you accepted the job when you were still in the military. Now that you’re here, I assume that means you want the job. Is that correct?”

Her question hung in the air but he couldn’t say yes. “I promised Thane I would take the job for three months to see if I fit and vice versa,” he reluctantly answered.

“So you’re here on a trial basis,” she said, her smile vanishing, and he merely nodded. “Thane had great trust in you so I hope you like it here and stay,” she continued. “Slade Jackson, our foreman, wants to retire and I can’t run this ranch. Actually, Slade runs this place as if it’s his ranch and that’s what Thane said you would do.”

“That makes my job easier,” Mike answered, wondering how often he would see her once he started work. He would have to report in, let her know what was going on, but that didn’t have to be a daily occurrence or even by direct contact. Email would be a salvation.

“There’s a house on the ranch for the foreman. In fact, most of the men who work here live on the ranch.” She crossed her legs and sat back in her chair. “I don’t know what Thane told you about me. I’m an artist and I own a gallery in Dallas where I show and sell my paintings. They’re also shown in three other galleries in Houston, Austin and Santa Fe, New Mexico. That takes a lot of my time and I know little about the ranch. We have an accountant and his assistant who help with the bills and payroll. There are two cowboys working here who also double, when needed, as chauffeurs. You’ll see the limo in the garage. There’s a landing strip and we have two planes and again, three of the cowboys are pilots. I saw on your résumé that you have a pilot’s license.”

“That’s correct.”

She nodded her approval. “We have a chef and also the wife of one of the men is a cook for the employees who live here. My cook, Francie Ellison, is here five days a week, off on the weekends unless there’s something special. She has an apartment on the third floor. Heather, the woman who is in charge of the cleaning crew also has an apartment on that floor, and Waldo, her husband, is in charge of the gardening crew. I don’t live alone in this house, Mr. Moretti.”

“Just call me Mike.”

Vivian Warner sat a little straighter and locked her fingers together. “I have a couple of problems. I think one will vanish the minute I introduce you. Since I’m isolated on the ranch and everyone in the area knows I’m a widow and alone, the issues are with two men in particular. I don’t think it will ever involve you and I’m not afraid of either one because I don’t feel threatened, just annoyed. Also, when Thane knew he would be away and I would be isolated, my father talked to him about a bodyguard and Thane agreed I should have one—even when other people live in the house. With my family background, I might be a tempting target. So I have a bodyguard—he and his wife live in this house, too. That way, he’s close at hand.”

“Henry is the bodyguard, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she said, tilting her head as she gazed at him. “Thane told you there was a bodyguard?”

“No. Henry didn’t look like my idea of a man who spends every working hour as a butler.”

“You’re observant. Henry Paine and his wife, Millie, live in this house on the third floor. I feel Henry can do a better job as my bodyguard if he’s in the house.”

“I agree with that.”

She smiled. “His wife, Millie, is my assistant and helps with the business part of my art. As far as the problems I have, Thane knew nothing about them because he had enough to worry about where he was. I didn’t want him halfway around the world and worrying about me and two men I can cope with well enough. With you taking this job, I think the least of the two problems will vanish instantly because it didn’t exist when Thane was here. It concerns one of my employees.” She ran a hand over her blond hair, more of a nervous gesture, Mike thought, since not one strand was out of place. Then she continued. “Thane always said Leon Major could work with horses better than any other cowboy he had known. Thane let Leon deal with the problem horses that he wanted to keep, so I don’t want to let Leon go. I also haven’t ever told this to Slade. Slade isn’t well, plus he’s older, so I didn’t want to worry him. Besides, Leon isn’t threatening. He’s more of a nuisance. Since Thane’s death, he’s been by to see me a couple of times. At first, I thought it was about the ranch or business.”

“And it wasn’t at all,” Mike said, and she nodded.

“I told him not to come to the house. He can talk to Slade, our foreman. So far, Leon has cooperated and as I said, with your taking the job, I think that will be the end of that problem.”

“What’s the other problem?”

“That’s a bigger one, unfortunately. My neighbor, Clint Woodson, knows I’m widowed and knows I’m not a rancher. He’s divorced and he wants me to go out with him. I also know he wants this ranch.”

“Are you interested in selling?”

“At this point, no, I’m not. The time may come when I will be, but I don’t want to do something in haste and regret it later. Also, if I don’t sell to him and I won’t go out with him, I keep thinking he’ll stop coming by or calling me. Neither man, not Leon nor my neighbor, has stepped out of line to the extent that Henry would get involved with, so I haven’t had any help from Henry about this except to make his presence known. You see, Mr. Moretti, I haven’t gone out with any man since Thane, nor have I wanted to. There are other men who’ve called, but some are simply friends who are being nice and asking me out since I’m widowed and don’t get out much. Some are a nuisance, but I can deal with that. Actually, Clint started asking me out as soon as Thane enlisted. Since Thane’s death, Clint calls and drops by much more often. I don’t invite him inside and Henry always makes an appearance. Occasionally, he comes by when Henry has gone to town—it’s as if he knows when Henry leaves—but I don’t even go to the door. I’m not afraid of Clint. He’s just aggravating and I don’t care to talk to him. He brings me presents, which I tell him I can’t accept, so he leaves them on the porch. I give them to a charity in town and tell them to drop him a thank-you, but that hasn’t stopped him. Nor have I managed to convince him that I have no interest in going out with him or selling this ranch to him.”

Mike nodded. “When I’m in charge, we can keep him from setting foot on the ranch. We can stop him at the front gate and tell him you’re not receiving visitors. I can also go into town and get to know the sheriff so there won’t be any misunderstandings. You can think about that last one.”

“I don’t need to think about it. That would be excellent if it works. I’ve thought about changing the code but with the amount of people who live and work here, he can easily get it from one of them. And we usually have the gate open anyway.”

“We can hire someone to be a gatekeeper temporarily. Or perhaps we could get several hands who are willing to do extra duty.”

She nodded. “We’ll see if that works.” Then she added some further information about the neighboring suitor. “As soon as Thane had to deploy, Clint started being buddies with my dad. They have mutual friends, you see. My dad’s business is hotels, but he does have an oil company, so he and Clint know each other in the business world, too. It won’t matter. I just wanted you to know. I can take care of my dad.”

“It shouldn’t take long to get the message across,” Mike reassured her.

Her shoulders seemed to ease and a small smile pulled back her lips. “Thane wrote a very long, detailed glowing letter about how much he trusted you and how much I can trust you.”

Mike looked into her eyes and wondered how many times he would have to remind himself how much Thane had trusted him. “Thane was a buddy, a fine man, and I trusted him with my life. I’m sorry he didn’t make it home.”

She looked away and laced her fingers together in her lap. “I am, too. I miss him.” As she stared into space he waited silently. Finally, she turned to look at him again.

“How soon can you start work? I’ll tell you that we need you today, or as soon as you can start working here.”

“I can start tomorrow. Because of being in the military, I travel lightly, so I can move in right away.”

“That’s wonderful. You can have the guesthouse as long as Slade is still here. When he goes, we’ll have the foreman house done over however you’d like and you can move in there.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. There was a moment of silence and she looked as if she were debating whether or not to say something so he sat quietly waiting.

“I want to ask you something. If you don’t want to do this, say no.”

“Sure. Ask away,” he said, curious of what she had in mind.

“After you’ve worked here a couple of weeks, could we go out to dinner maybe a few times where people would see us?” She took a deep breath. “You don’t have to agree, but I think if you went out with me where we would be seen, Clint and a couple of the other men who have called on me would back off. I think Clint would stop trying to get me to move and sell the ranch. We could go to a country club in Dallas—dinner will go on my tab, of course, because, in the first place, at the club that’s automatic.” Her cheeks turned pink as she talked. “You don’t have to go. It is definitely not a job requirement, and if there’s a woman in your life—”