of Vengeance, Texas?”
“Work, mostly. Exploring for oil has taken me to every corner of the planet. For some reason, oil always seems to come from boiling-hot or freezing-cold places.”
“Favorite place you’ve visited?”
“While looking for oil? Malaysia. While just traveling? Gotta go with Paris.”
“Paris, huh? I didn’t peg you for a romantic.”
That earned her a cynical look. “My ex-wife stripped out what little romance there was in my soul a long time ago.”
“Is there any news about her? A ransom note from kidnappers or something?”
Gabe’s facial muscles tightened in stress. “No. Nothing.”
He clearly cared deeply about his former wife. Willa’s natural empathy bubbled up in spite of her reservations about this man, and she reached across the table to lay her hand on top of his. “I’m sorry.” But then shocking heat scalded her palm and she jerked her hand away.
“What have you been up to since you grew up?” he asked carefully.
She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t a snot-nosed kid anymore, thank you very much. “I graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in elementary education. I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
“Kindergarten? So you have a death wish?”
She laughed. “Five-year-olds are actually pretty great as long as you draw clear boundaries for them and stick to them. I love my job.”
“Are you on a leave of absence from teaching right now?”
She sighed. “I am. And the school year was just getting started, too. But there was so much to do to arrange the funeral, and I’m the executor of his estate. I have no idea how I’m going to wade through all the business matters my father left behind. It’s a nightmare.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
It was nice of him to offer, but she didn’t trust the man any farther than she could throw him. Still, he’d rescued her from that mob of reporters and was feeding her in rather spectacular fashion. He hadn’t once behaved like a slimeball toward her. She supposed she should cut him a little slack.
“After Melinda, you never found another woman who turned your head?” she asked.
“Circling back to my love life, are we?” he murmured, amused. “Nope. I guess she ruined me for any other woman.”
The one time Willa had met Professor Melinda Grayson, the woman had intimidated her so badly, Willa had barely been able to form coherent sentences. So, he liked his women aggressive, huh? Count her out, then.
“Actually, no,” Gabe commented. “Aggressive isn’t my style in women.”
Oh, Lord. Had she asked that question aloud? She would just crawl under the table and hide now. Her cheeks fiery hot, she searched frantically for a distraction. “The garden is beautiful.”
Gabe looked outside, and she followed suit. Twilight had descended over the rose garden, softening its hues to muted tones of maroon and mauve.
“Shall I open the doors?” he murmured.
She nodded, and he rose gracefully to throw open the double doors. Even wearing jeans and a casual sport jacket, he cut an elegant figure. He must be, what? Forty? The man was in shockingly great shape for his age. His coat bulged with muscle and his face was smooth and youthful. He was going to be one of those incredibly annoying men who looked fantastic at sixty and beyond.
The sound of crickets chirping swirled into the room on the perfume of roses and the day’s spent warmth. The light of the twin candles on their table began to take over as night fell around them. The waiter brought the main course—spit-roasted quail, crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside, that literally melted in Willa’s mouth. The wine was smooth, her companion smoother, and the combination relaxed her in spite of herself.
For his part, Gabe spent an inordinate amount of time studying her over his meal. Finally, she couldn’t resist asking, “Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just strange to see the little girl all grown up. It’s like I’ve walked into a time warp where you aged overnight.”
“I got old when you weren’t looking, huh?”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “You are emphatically not old. You’re stunning. That’s what’s got me staring at you. The promise of this kind of beauty was always there, but it’s impressive to see it in full bloom. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”
“Uhh, thank you,” she mumbled, flummoxed. He thought she was pretty? Well, then.
“The boys must have been all over you in high school and college,” he commented. “Any of them still around?”
Was he actually fishing to find out if she had a boyfriend? Shock made her choke on a sip of water. She eventually recovered enough to croak, “I’m the only kid in my high school who went up to Lover’s Point to be alone.”
He laughed lightly, disbelievingly even, at her quip. Little did he know how dull her love life had truly been.
She’d taken one ecstatic bite of the most incredibly delicious crèe brûulée she’d ever experienced when Gabe’s cell phone rang, shattering the quiet between them. She raised her eyebrows at the sappy country tune of his ringtone. Not a romantic, huh? He was such a liar.
“Hello,” Gabe said. He frowned, listening in silence for a few seconds and then startled her by saying, “She’s right here, sir. Of course, sir.”
Who would Gabe Dawson call “sir” in that tone of respect? Even God probably didn’t rate that tone of voice from him. She took the phone Gabe held out to her. “Who is it?” she mouthed. He merely grinned and wiggled the phone at her. She took it cautiously.
“Hello?” she said even more cautiously. “This is Willa Merris.”
“Good evening, Miss Merris. This is Wade Graham. I’m sorry to disturb your evening. My people had quite a time tracking you down.”
As in Governor of Texas, Wade Graham? Holy cow. “Uhh, hello, Governor Graham. What can I do for you?”
The governor wasn’t of the same political party as her father, and the two men hadn’t been close, to her knowledge. It was decent of the man to express his condolences. Except she recalled her mother making some vague reference to having received a sympathy call from the governor last week. Why was the man tracking her down, then?
“I spoke with your father’s attorney this morning,” the governor explained. “As part of Senator Merris’s will, he left a letter expressing his preference for how his senate seat should be disposed of in the event of his death.”
“What does this have to do with me, sir?” she asked, confused.
“As you may know, it’s not unusual in the event of a senator’s untimely demise for the senator’s
