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
