Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Sheltered by the Millionaire

Sheltered by the Millionaire
Catherine Mann








“Thank you.”


Megan leaned to kiss his cheek in a heartfelt thank-you just as he turned to answer.

Their lips brushed. Just barely skimmed, but a crackle shot through her so tangibly she could have sworn the storm had returned with a bolt of lightning.

Gasping, she angled back, her eyes wide, his inscrutable.

“Um.” She inched along the riser. “I need to get Evie, and um, thank you.”

She shot to her feet, racing toward her daughter, away from the temptation to test the feeling and kiss him again.

That wasn’t what she’d expected. At all. But then nothing about Whit had ever been predictable, damn his sexy body, hot kiss and hero’s rescue.

***

Sheltered by the Millionaire

is a Texas Cattleman’s Club: After the Storm novel—As a Texas town rebuilds, love heals all wounds …




Sheltered by the Millionaire

Catherine Mann





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN lives on a sunny Florida beach with her flyboy husband and their four children. With more than forty books in print in over twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins for both a RITA® Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. Catherine enjoys chatting with readers online—thanks to the wonders of the internet, which allows her to network with her laptop by the water! Contact Catherine through her website, www.catherinemann.com (http://www.catherinemann.com), find her on Facebook and Twitter (@CatherineMann1), or reach her by snail mail at PO Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566, USA.


To my parents, Brice and Sandra Woods. Thank you for the joyous gift of always having pets in my life as a child.


Contents

Cover (#u51d26301-dac2-5c10-b98e-97566e62ce53)

Introduction (#u05b46235-3e44-5915-8708-d056872265c3)

Title Page (#u9641548b-4420-5b5f-bc66-62a9840d74c0)

About the Author (#u615d3bf2-a562-5704-9d11-058fd1586810)

Dedication (#ud5958f22-8c31-5acf-a09c-9b1c3da44d21)

Contents (#u384b3f3f-6d0f-5a1b-a620-6f19a566f6e5)

One (#ua1f47c40-a6d4-5fd4-9831-3f15beb7fdd5)

Two (#u67040d26-1349-526d-be91-380fab2c7f9d)

Three (#ufcb766be-e627-5709-82e1-afc3e00b410e)

Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_63aca8e0-adf9-5020-aef6-dada960b6318)

The airbag inflated. Hard. Fast.

Pain exploded through Megan Maguire. From the bag hitting her in the face. From her body slamming against the seat. But it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as the panic pumping through her as she faced the latest obstacle in reaching her daughter after a tornado.

A tornado for God’s sake.

Her insides quivered with fear and her body ached from the impact. The wind howled outside her small compact car on the lonely street, eerily abandoned for 4:30 on a weekday afternoon. Apparently she was the only one stupid enough to keep driving in spite of the weather warnings of a tornado nearby. In fact, reports of the twister only made her more determined. She had to get to her daughter.

Megan punched her way clear of the deflating airbag to find a shattered windshield. The paw-shaped air freshener still swayed, dangling from her rearview mirror and releasing a hint of lavender. Files from work were scattered all over the floor from sliding off the seat along with the bag containing her daughter’s Halloween costume. Then Megan looked outside and she damn near hyperventilated.

The hood of her sedan was covered by a downed tree. Steam puffed from the engine.

If the thick oak had fallen two seconds later, it would have landed on the roof of her car. She could have been crushed. She could have died.

Worst of all, her daughter would have become an orphan for all intents and purposes since Evie’s father had never wanted anything to do with her. Panic pushed harder on Megan’s chest like a cement slab.

Forcing oxygen back into her lungs one burning gasp at a time, she willed her racing heart to slow. Nothing would stop her from getting to her daughter. Not a totaled car. Not a downed tree. And definitely not...a...panic...attack.

Gasping for air, she flung open the door and stepped into the aftermath of the storm. Sheeting rain and storm winds battered her. Thank heaven she’d already left work to pick up her daughter for a special outing before they announced the tornado warning on her radio. If she’d been at the shelter when the warning sirens went off she wouldn’t have been able to leave until given the okay.

But if she’d left at 1:00 to go to the movie as they’d originally planned, Evie would have been with her, safe and sound.

As a single mom, Megan needed her job as an animal shelter director. Evie’s father had hit the road the minute Megan had told him about the unexpected pregnancy. Any attempts at child support had been ignored until he faded from sight somewhere in the Florida Keys. She’d finally accepted he was gone from her life and Evie’s. She could only count on herself.

Determination fueled her aching body. She was less than a mile from her daughter’s Little Tots Daycare. She would walk every step of the way if she had to. Rain plastered her khakis and work shirt to her body. Thank goodness her job called for casual wear. She would have been hard pressed to climb over the downed tree in heels.

At least the tornado had passed, but others could finger down from the gathering clouds at any minute. With every fiber of her being she prayed the worst was over. She had to get to her daughter, to be sure she was safe.

The small cottage that housed Little Tots Daycare had appeared so cute and appealing when she’d chosen it for Evie. Now, she could only think how insubstantial the structure would be against the force of such a strong storm. What if Evie was trapped inside?

Sweeping back a clump of soggy red hair, Megan clambered over the tree trunk and back onto the road strewn with debris. She took in the devastation ahead, collapsed buildings and overturned cars. The town had been spun and churned, pieces of everyday life left lining the street. Glass from blown-out windows. Papers and furniture from businesses. Pictures and books. The tornado’s path was clear, like a massive mower had cut through the land. Uprooting trees, slicing through lives, spewing a roof or a computer like it was nothing more than a blade of grass sliced and swept away.

She picked her way past half of a splintered door. Wind whistled through the trees, bending and creaking the towering oaks. But she didn’t hear the telltale train sound that preceded a tornado.

Thoughts of Evie scared and waiting dumped acid on Megan’s gut. Even knowing the Little Tots Daycare workers were equipped to handle the crisis didn’t quell her fears. Evie was her daughter.

Her world.

She would trudge through this storm, tear her way through the wreckage, do anything to reach her four-year-old child. The roar of the wind was calling to her, urging her forward until she could have sworn she actually heard someone speaking to her. Megan. Megan. Megan. Had she sustained a concussion from the wreck?

She searched around her, pushing her shoulder-length hair from her face, and spotted a handful of people every bit as reckless as her venturing outside for one reason or another. None of them looked her way...except for a looming man, a familiar man, charging down the steps of one of the many buildings owned by Daltry Property Management. For three and a half years, Whit Daltry had been a major pain in the neck whenever they’d crossed paths, which she tried to make as infrequently as possible.

The fates were really ganging up on her today.

Whit shouted, “Megan? Megan! Come inside before you get hurt.”

“No,” she shouted. “I can’t.”

His curse rode the wind as he jogged toward her. Tall and muscular, a force to be reckoned with, he plowed ahead, his Stetson impervious to the wind. Raindrops sheeted off the brim of his hat, as his suit coat and tie whipped to and fro.

He stopped alongside her, his brown eyes snapping with anger, warm hand clasping her arm. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you through the window. What are you doing out in this weather?”

“Dancing in the rain,” she snapped back, hysteria threatening to overwhelm her. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m trying to get to Evie. I had already left the shelter when the tornado hit. A tree fell on my car so I had to walk.”

His jaw flexed, his eyes narrowing. “Where is your daughter?”

She tugged her arm free. “She’s at Little Tots Daycare. I have to go to her.”

And what a time to remember this man was the very reason she didn’t work closer to her daughter’s preschool. When the shelter had decided to build a new facility shortly after she’d signed on as director three and a half years ago, Whit had started off their acquaintance by blocking the purchase of land near his offices—which also happened to be near the day care. The Safe Haven’s board of directors had been forced to choose an alternate location. Now the shelter was located in a more industrial area farther from her daughter. Every single work day, Megan lost time with Evie because of an arbitrary decision by this man.

And now, he could have cost her so much more if something had happened to Evie.

Whit grasped her arms again, more firmly this time, peering at her from under the brim of his hat. “I’ll get your daughter. You need to take shelter until the weather clears. There could be more tornadoes.”

“You don’t know me very well if you think I’ll even entertain that idea.” She grabbed his suit coat lapels. “There’s no way I’m sitting in a gas station bathroom hugging my knees and covering my head while my Evie is out there scared. She’s probably crying for me.”

“Look at the roads—” He waved to the street full of branches and overturned vehicles. “They’re blocked here too. Only a truck or heavy-duty SUV would stand a chance of getting through.”

“I’ll run, walk or crawl my way there. It’s not that much farther.”

He bit off another curse and scrubbed his strong jaw with one hand. “Fine. If I can’t convince you, then we might as well get moving. Hopefully, my truck can four-wheel it over the debris and drive that last two blocks a lot faster than you can walk. Are you okay with that?”

“Seriously? Yes. Let’s go.” Relief soaked into her, nearly buckling her knees.

Whit led her back to the redbrick building and into the parking garage, his muscular arm along her back helping her forge ahead. Time passed in a fugue as she focused on one thing. Seeing her daughter.

Thumbing the key remote, Whit unlocked the large blue truck just ahead of them and started the engine from outside the truck. She ran the last few steps, yanked open the passenger door and crawled inside the top-of-the-line vehicle, surprisingly clean for a guy, with no wrenches or files or gym bag on the floor. No child’s Halloween costume or box of recycling like what she had in her destroyed car, and— Oh, God, her mind was on overdrive from adrenaline. The warmth of the heater blasted over her wet body. Her teeth chattered. From the cold or shock? She wasn’t sure and didn’t care.

She could only think of her child. “Thank you for doing this, Whit.”

“We may have had our differences, but these are extraordinary circumstances.” He looked at her intensely for an instant as he set his hat on the seat between them. “Your daughter will be fine. That day care building may look small but it’s rock solid, completely up to code. And that’s me speaking as a professional in property management.”

“I understand that in my mind.” Megan tapped her temple. “But in my heart?” Her hand trembled as it fluttered to her chest. “The fears and what-ifs can’t be quieted.”

“You’re a mother. That’s understandable.” He shifted the truck into four-wheel drive and accelerated out of the parking lot, crunching over debris, cracked concrete and churned earth. “How did the shelter fare in the storm?”

Her gut clenched all over again as she thought of all the precious charges in her care. “I wasn’t there. I’d already left to pick up Evie when the warning siren went off. The kennel supervisor is in charge and I trust him, completely, but telephone service is out.”

She felt torn in two. But she had a stellar staff in place at the shelter. They were trained to respond and rescue in disaster scenarios. She’d just never expected to use that training to find her child.

Already the rain was easing, the storm passing as quickly as it had hit. Such a brief time for so much change to happen. And there could be worse waiting for her—

The worst.

Her chin trembled, tears of panic nearly choking her. “I was supposed to take the whole afternoon off to go to a movie with Evie, but we had a sick employee leave early and a mother dog in labor dumped off with us... If I had kept my promise I would have been at the afternoon matinee with Evie rather than copping out for a later show. God, she must be so terrified—” She pressed her wrist to her mouth to hold back a sob.

“You can’t torture yourself with what-ifs,” he said matter-of-factly. “There was no way to see this coming and no way to know where it would be safe. You were doing your job, supporting your child. Deep breaths. Be calm for your kid.”

She scrubbed her wrist under her eyes. “You’re right. She’ll be more frightened if she sees me freaking out.”

Whit turned the corner onto the street for the Little Tots Daycare. The one-story wooden cottage was still standing but had sustained significant damage.

The aluminum roof was crunched like an accordion, folded in on the wooden porch. Already other parents and a couple of volunteer emergency responders were picking through the rubble. The porch supports had fallen like broken matches, the thick wooden beams cracked and splintered so that the main entrance was completely blocked.

Megan’s heart hit her shoes.

Before she could find her breath, Whit had already jogged to her side of the truck and opened the door.

“No,” she choked out a whisper. She fell into his arms, her legs weak with fear, her whole body stiff from the accident. Pain shot up her wrists where, she realized, she had burns from the airbag deployment.

None of it mattered. Her eyes focused on that fallen roof. The blocked door. More acid churned in her stomach as she thought of her little girl stuck inside.

“I’ve got you,” Whit reassured her, rain dripping from the brim of his Stetson.

“I’m okay. You can let go. I have to find my daughter.”

“And I’m going to help you do that. I have construction experience and we need to be careful our help doesn’t cause more damage.”

No wonder the other parents weren’t tearing apart the fallen debris to get inside.

“Of course, you’re right.” Hands quaking, she pressed a palm to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking clearly.”

“That’s understandable. We’ll get to your daughter soon. You have my word.”

Whit led her past the debris of the front porch, then around to the side, where the swing sets were uprooted, the jungle gym twisted into a macabre new shape. Painted Halloween pumpkins had scattered and burst. He called out to the handful of people picking at the lumber on the porch, offering advice as he continued to lead Megan around to the back of the building. The gaggle of frantic parents listened without argument, desperate.

She couldn’t imagine a world without her daughter.

In her first trimester, she’d planned to give her baby up for adoption. She’d gotten the paperwork from a local adoption agency. Then she’d felt the flutter of life inside her and she’d torn up the paperwork. From that point on, she’d opted for taking life one day at a time. The moment when she’d seen her daughter’s newborn face with bright eyes staring trustingly up at her, she’d lost her heart totally.

Evie was four years old now, those first sprigs of red hair having grown into precious corkscrew curls. And Megan had a rewarding job that also paid the bills and supported her daughter. It hadn’t been easy by any stretch, but she’d managed. Until today.

Whit guided her to the back of the building, which was blessedly undamaged. The back door was intact. Secure. Safe. She’d been right to come with him. She would have dived straight into the porch rubble rather than thinking to check....

Megan yanked out of Whit’s grip and pounded on the door. Through the pane she could see the kids lined up on the floor with their teachers. No one seemed in a panic.

The day care supervisor pulled the door open.

“Sue Ellen,” Megan clasped her hand, looking around her to catch sight of her daughter. “Where’s Evie?”

“She’s okay.” The silver-haired supervisor wearing a smock covered in finger paints and dust patted Megan’s hand. The older woman seemed calm, in control, when she must be shaking in her sensible white sneakers. “She’s with a teacher’s assistant and three other students. They were on their way to the kitchen when the tornado sirens went off. So she’s at the other end of the building.”

Sue Ellen paused and Megan’s heart tripped over itself. “What are you not telling me?”

“There’s a beam from the roof blocking her from coming out. But she’s fine. The assistant is keeping the kids talking and calm.”

Megan pressed a hand to her chest. “Near the porch? The collapsed roof?”

Whit gripped her shoulder. “I’ve got it.”

Without another word, he raced down the corridor. Megan followed, dimly registering that he’d clasped her hand. And she didn’t pull away from the comfort. They finally stopped short at a blocked hall, the emergency lighting illuminating the passageway beyond the crisscross of broken beams and cracked plaster. Dust made the image hazy, almost surreal. The teacher’s assistant sat beside the row of students, Evie on the end, her bright red curls as unmistakable as the mismatched orange and purple outfit she’d insisted on wearing this morning because the colors reminded her Halloween was coming.

“Evie?” Megan shouted. “Evie, honey, it’s Mommy.”

“Mommy?” her daughter answered faintly, a warble in her voice. “I wanna go home.”

Whit angled past Megan and crouched down to assess the crisscross of boards, cracked drywall and ceiling tiles. ‘Stand back, kids, while I clear a path through.”

The teacher’s assistant guided them all a few feet away and wrapped her arms around them protectively as fresh dust showered down. With measured precision, Whit moved boards aside, his muscles bulging as he hefted aside plank after plank with an ease Megan envied until finally he’d cleared a pathway big enough for people to crawl through. Evie’s freckled face peeked from the cluster of kids, her nose scrunched and sweet cherub smile beaming. She appeared unharmed.

Relief made Megan’s legs weak. Whit’s palm slid along her waist for a steadying second before he reached into the two-foot opening, arms outstretched. “Evie, I’m a friend of your mommy’s here to help you. Can I lift you through here?”

Megan nodded, holding back the tears that were welling up fast. “Go to Mr. Whit, honey.”

Evie raised her arms and Whit hauled her up and free, cradling her to his chest in broad, gentle hands. Megan took in every inch of her daughter, seeing plenty of dirt but nothing more than a little tear of one sleeve of her Disney princess shirt, revealing a tiny scrape. Somehow she’d come through the whole ordeal safely.

Once they reached the bottom of the rubble, Whit passed Evie to her mother. “Here ya go, kiddo.”

Evie melted against Megan with one of those shuddering sighs of relief that relayed more than tears how frightened she had been. Evie wrapped her tiny arms around Megan’s neck and held on tightly like a spider monkey, and it was Megan’s turn to feel the shudder of relief so strong she nearly fell to her knees.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, God. Her baby was safe.

“You’re okay, sweetie?”

“I’m fine, Mommy. The t’naydo came and I was a very brave girl. I did just what Miss Vicky told me to do. I sat under the stairs and hugged my knees tight with one arm and I held my friend Caitlyn’s hand ’cause she was scared.”

“You did well, Evie, I’m so proud of you.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead, taking in the hint of her daughter’s favorite raspberry shampoo. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too, Mommy.” She squeezed hard, holding on tightly as Whit helped the other students through.

Once the last child stepped free, Whit urged everyone to file away from the damaged part of the building. He led them down the hall to where Sue Ellen had gathered the children in the auditorium, playing music and passing out cookies and books to the students whose parents hadn’t arrived to pick them up. The school nurse made the rounds checking each child, dispensing Band-Aids when needed.

Whit’s hand went to the small of Megan’s back again with an ease she didn’t have the energy to wonder about right now.

“Megan, you should see the nurse about your scratches from the accident. The air bag has left some burns that could use antiseptic too—”

She shook her head. “I will later. For now she’s got her hands full with the children and they need her more.”

Evie squirmed in her arms. “Can I get a cookie? I’m reallllly hungry.”

“Of course, sweetie.” She gave her daughter another hug, not sure when she would ever be okay with letting her out of her sight.

Evie raced across the gym floor as if the whole world hadn’t just been blown upside down. Literally.

Whit laughed softly. “Resilient little scrap.”

“More so than her mom, I’m afraid.” Megan sagged and sat down on the metal riser.

“All Evie knows is that everyone is okay and you’re here.” Whit sat beside her, his leg pressing a warm reassurance against hers. “Maybe we should get you one of those cookies and a cup of that juice.”

“I’m okay. Really. We should go back to clearing the debris outside.” She braced her shoulders. “I’m being selfish in keeping you all to myself.”

“All the children are accounted for and the teachers have them well in hand. It’s getting dark. I think cleanup will be on hold until the morning.”

What kind of carnage would the morning reveal? Outside, sirens had wailed for the last twenty minutes. “I should take Evie and check back in at the shelter. Local animal control will need our help with housing displaced pets.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed on the road just yet and you don’t have a car.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Face it, Megan. You can actually afford to take a few minutes to catch your breath.”

The concern in his brown eyes was genuine. The warmth she saw there washed over her like a jolt of pure java, stimulating her senses. Why hadn’t she ever noticed before what incredibly intense and expressive eyes he had? Sure, she’d noticed he was sexy, but then any woman who crossed his path would appreciate Whit Daltry’s charismatic good looks. And in fact, that had been a part of what turned her off for the past three years—how easily women fell into his arms. She’d let herself be conned by a man like that and it had turned her life upside down.

But the warmth in his eyes now, the caring he’d shown in helping her get to Evie today presented a new side to Whit she’d never seen before. He might not be romance material for her, but he’d been a good guy just now and that meant a lot to a woman who didn’t accept help easily.

She slumped back against the riser behind her. “Thank you for what you did for me today—for me and for Evie. I know you would have done the same for anyone stranded on the road.” As she said the words she realized they were true. Whit wasn’t the one-dimensional bad guy she’d painted him to be the past few years. There were layers to the man. “Still, the fact is, you were there for my child and I’ll never forget that.”

He smiled, his brown eyes twinkling with a hint of his devilish charm. “Does that mean I’m forgiven for refusing to let the shelter build on that tract of land you wanted so much?”

Layers. Definitely. Good—and bad. “I may be grateful, but I didn’t develop amnesia.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that drew a laugh from her, and before she knew what she was doing, she dropped her hand to his shoulder and squeezed.

“Thank you.” She leaned to kiss his cheek in a heartfelt thank-you just as he turned to answer.

Their lips brushed. Just barely skimmed, but a crackle shot through her so tangibly she could have sworn the storm had returned with a bolt of lightning.

Gasping, she angled back, her eyes wide, his inscrutable.

She inched along the riser. “I need to get Evie...and um, thank you.”

She shot to her feet, racing toward her daughter, away from the temptation to test the feeling and kiss him again.

That wasn’t what she’d expected. At all. But then nothing about Whit had ever been predictable, damn his sexy body, hot kiss and hero’s rescue. She’d been every bit as gullible as her mother once. And while she could never regret having Evie in her life, she damn well wouldn’t fall victim to trusting an unworthy man again. She owed it to Evie to set a better example, to break the cycle the women in her family seemed destined to repeat.

And if that meant giving up any chance for another toe-searing kiss from Whit Daltry, then so be it.


Two (#ulink_82859124-8612-5c6b-b762-d30216f588a6)

Six Weeks Later

The wild she-cat in his arms left scratches on his shoulders.

Whit Daltry adjusted his hold on the long-haired calico, an older female kitten that had wandered—scraggly and with no collar—onto the doorstep of his Pine Valley home. Luckily, he happened to know the very attractive director of Royal’s Safe Haven Animal Shelter.

He stepped out of his truck and kicked the door closed, early morning sunshine reflecting off his windshield. Not a cloud in the sky, unlike that fateful day the F4 tornado had ripped through Royal, Texas. The shelter had survived unscathed, but the leaves had been stripped from the trees, leaving branches unnaturally bare for this region of Texas, even in November. The town bore lasting scars from that day that would take a lot longer to heal than the scratches from the frantic calico.

He should have gotten one of those pet carriers or a box to transport the cat. If the beast clawed its way out of his arms, chances were the scared feline would bolt away and be tough as hell to catch again. Apparently he wasn’t adept at animal rescue.

That was Megan’s expertise.

The thought of seeing her again sent anticipation coursing through him as each step brought him closer to the single-story brick structure. Heaven knew he could use a distraction from life right now. For six weeks, ever since they’d shared that kiss after the tornado, he’d been looking for an excuse to see her, but the town had been in chaos clearing the debris. Some of his properties had been damaged as well. He owned multiple apartment buildings and rental homes all over town. And while he might have a lighthearted approach to his social life, he was serious when it came to business and was always damn sure going to be there for his tenants when they needed him.

He’d thrown himself into the work to distract himself from the biggest loss of all—the death of his good friend Craig Richardson in the storm. It had sent him into shock for the first couple of weeks, as he grieved for Craig and tried to find ways to help his pal’s widow. God, they were all still in a tailspin and he didn’t know if he would be in any better shape by the memorial service that was scheduled for after Thanksgiving.

So he focused on restoring order to the town, the only place he’d ever called home after a rootless childhood being evicted from place after place. And with each clean-up operation, he thought back to the day of the storm, to clearing aside the rubble in the day care.

To Megan’s kiss afterward.

Sure the kiss had been impulsive and motivated by gratitude, and she’d meant to land it on his cheek. But he would bet good money that she’d been every bit as affected by the spontaneous kiss as he was.

Granted, he’d always been attracted to her in spite of their sparring. But he’d managed to keep a tight rein on those feelings for the three and a half years he’d known her because she’d made it clear she found him barely one step above pond scum. Now, he couldn’t ignore the possibility that the chemistry was mutual. So finally, here he was. He had the perfect excuse, even if it wasn’t the perfect time.

And Megan wouldn’t be able to avoid him as she’d been doing since their clash over the site where she’d wanted the new shelter built. A battle he’d won. Although from the sleek look of the Safe Haven facility, she’d landed on her feet and done well for the homeless four-legged residents of Royal, Texas.

Tucking the cat into his suit coat and securing her with a firm grip, he stepped into the welcoming reception area, its tiled surfaces giving off a freshly washed bleach smell. The waiting area was spacious, but today, there were wire crates lining two walls, one with cats, the other with small dogs. They were clean and neat, but the shelter was packed to capacity. He’d heard the shelter had taken in a large number of strays displaced during the storm, but he hadn’t fully grasped the implications until now.

The shelter had a reputation for its innovative billboards, slogans and holiday-themed decor, but right now, every ounce of energy here seemed to be focused on keeping the animals fed and the place sparkling clean.

He closed the door, sealing himself inside.

The cat sunk her claws in deeper. Whit hissed almost as loudly as the feline and searched the space for help. Framed posters featured everything from collages of adopters to advice on flea prevention. Painted red-and-black paw prints marked the walls with directions he already knew in theory since he’d reviewed the plans during his land dispute with Megan.

A grandmotherly woman sat behind the counter labeled “volunteer receptionist.” He recognized the retired legal secretary from past business ventures. She was texting on her phone, and waved for him to wait an instant before she glanced up.

He swept his hat off and set it on the counter. “Morning, Miss Abigail—”

“Good mornin’, Whit,” the lady interrupted with a particularly thick Southern accent, her eyes widening with surprise. The whole town knew he and Megan avoided each other like the plague. “What a pleasant surprise you’ve decided to adopt from us. Our doggies are housed to your right in kennel runs. But be sure to peek at the large fenced-in area outside. Volunteers take them there to exercise in the grassy area.”

She paused for air, but not long enough for him to get in a word. “Although now I see you’re a cat person. Never would have guessed that.” She grinned as the calico peeked out of his suit jacket, purring as if the ferocious feline hadn’t drawn blood seconds earlier. “Kitties are kept in our free roam area. If you find one you would like to adopt, we have meet-and-greet rooms for your sweetheart there to meet with your new feline friend—”

“I’m actually here to make a donation.” He hadn’t planned on that, but given all the extra crates, he could see the shelter needed help. So much of the post-tornado assistance had been focused on helping people and cleaning up the damaged buildings. But he should have realized the repercussions of the storm would have a wider ripple effect.

“A donation?” Miss Abigail set aside her phone. “Let me call our director right away—oh, here she is now.”

He pivoted to find Megan walking down the dog corridor, toward the lobby, a beagle on a loose leash at her side. He could see the instant she registered his presence. She blinked fast, nibbling her lip as she paused midstep for an instant before forging ahead, the sweet curves of her hips sending a rush of want through him.

Her bright red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. He ached to sweep away that gold clasp and thread his fingers through the fiery strands, to find out if her hair was as silky as it looked. He wanted her, had since the first time he’d seen her when they crossed paths in the lawyer’s office during the dispute over a patch of property. He’d expected to smooth things over regarding finding an alternate location for the new shelter. He usually had no trouble charming people, but she’d taken to disliking him right away. Apparently her negative impression had only increased every time she perceived one of his projects as “damaging” to nature when he purchased a piece of wetlands.

He’d given up trying to figure out why she couldn’t see her way clear to making nice. Because she had a reputation for being everyone’s pal, a caring and kindhearted woman who took in strays of all kinds, ready to pitch in to help anyone. Except for him.

“Megan,” the receptionist cleared her throat, “Mr. Daltry here has brought us a donation.”

“Another cat. Just what we were lacking.” Megan’s smile went tight.

He juggled his hold on the fractious fur ball. “I do plan to write a check to cover the expense of taking in another animal, but yes, I need to drop off the stray. She’s been wandering around in the woods near my house. She doesn’t have a collar and clearly hasn’t been eating well.”

“Could have been displaced because of the storm and has been surviving on her own in the wild ever since, poor girl. Animals have a knack for ditching their collars. Did you take her to a vet to check for a microchip?”

“I figured you could help me with that. Or maybe someone has come by here looking for her.”

“So you’re sure it’s a girl?”

“I think so.”

“Let’s just pray she’s not in heat or about to have kittens.”

Oh, crap. He hadn’t thought about that.

Megan passed him the dog leash and took the squirming cat from his arms. Their wrists brushed in the smooth exchange. A hint of her cinnamon scent drifted by, teasing him with memories of that too-brief kiss a month ago.

She swallowed hard once; it was the only sign she’d registered the brief contact, aside from the fact that she kept her eyes firmly averted from his. What would he see in those emerald-green eyes? A month ago, after her impulsive kiss, he’d seen surprise—and desire.

He watched her every move, trying to get a read on her.

“Hey, beautiful,” she crooned to the kitty, handling the feline with obvious skill and something more...an unmistakable gift. “Let’s get a scanner and check to see if you have a chip. If we’re lucky, you’ll have your people back very soon.”

Kneeling, she pulled a brown, boxy device from under the counter and waved the sensor along the back of the cat’s neck. She frowned and swept it over the same place again. Then she broadened the search along the cat’s shoulders and legs, casting a quick glance at Whit. “Sometimes the chip migrates on the body.”

But after sweeping along the cat’s entire back, Megan shook her head and sighed. “No luck.”

“She was pretty matted when I found her yesterday.” He patted the beagle’s head awkwardly. He didn’t have much experience with pets, his only exposure to animals coming with horseback riding. The cat and dog were a helluva lot smaller than a Palomino. “I combed her out last night and she’s been pissed at me ever since.”

She glanced up quickly, her eyes going wide with surprise. “You brushed the cat?”

“Yeah, so?” He shrugged. “She needed it.”

Her forehead furrowed. “That was kind of you.”

“Last time I checked, I’m not a monster.”

She smiled with a tinge of irony. “Just a mogul land baron and destroyer of wetlands.”

He raised a hand. “Guilty as charged. And I hear you have need of some of my dirty, land-baron dollars?”

He looked around, taking in a couple of harried volunteers rushing in with fresh litter boxes stacked in their arms. The dog sniffed his shoes as if checking out the quality of his next chew toy.

The stuffing went out of her fight and she sagged back against the wall. “Animal control across town is full, and we’re the only other option around here. People are living in emergency housing shelters that don’t allow pets. Other folks have left town altogether, just giving up on finding their animals.” He could hear the tension in her voice.

“That’s a damn shame, Megan. I’ve heard the call-outs for pet food, but I hadn’t realized how heavy the extra burden is for you and the rest of your staff.”

“Let’s step into my office before your kitty girl makes a break for the door. Evie’s in there now, but it’ll only take a second to settle her elsewhere so we can talk.” She rested a hand on the front desk. “Miss Abigail, do you mind if Evie sits with you for a few minutes?”

“Of course not. I love spending time with the little darlin’. You don’t let me babysit near enough. Send her my way.”

Megan looked at Whit, something sad flickering in her eyes. “Evie’s taking the day off from school. Come this way.”

He followed her, his eyes drawn to the gentle sway of her hips. Khaki had never looked so hot. “I’m sorry to add to your load here, but I meant it when I said I want to make a donation to help.”

She opened a metal baby gate and ushered the beagle into the room. It was a small room with a neat bookshelf and three recycling bins stacked in a corner. Two large framed watercolors dominated the walls—one of an orange cat and the other of a spotted dog, both clearly painted by a child. The bottom corner of each was signed in crayon. Evie.

The little minx peeked from under the desk, a miniature version of her mom right down to the freckles on her nose. “Hello, Mr. Whit.”

She crawled out with an iPad tucked under her arm, then stood, her red pigtails lopsided. Evie’s face was one hundred percent Megan, but the little girl had a quirky spirit all her own. Evie wore a knight’s costume with a princess tiara even though Halloween had already passed and Thanksgiving was rapidly approaching. Her mother smoothed a hand over her head affectionately, gently tightening the left pigtail to match the one on the right. “Miss Abigail wants you to sit with her for a few minutes, okay? I’ll be through soon.”

Evie waved shyly, green eyes sparkling, then sprinted out to the front desk, carrying her iPad and a foam sword.

Megan gestured for him to step inside the small office, then closed the gate again. “You mentioned writing a check, and I’m not bashful about accepting on behalf of the animals. I’ll get you a receipt so you can write it off on your taxes.”

“Where will you put this cat if you’re already full?” he asked as the beagle sniffed his shoes.

“I guess we’ll learn if she gets along with dogs since she’ll have to stay in my office for now.” She crouched down with the cat in her arms. The pup tipped his head to the side and the cat curled closer to Megan but kept her claws sheathed. Nodding, Megan stood and settled the cat onto her office chair.

“She likes dogs better than she likes me, that’s for sure.” He shook his head, laughing softly.

“I guess not every female in this town likes crawling into your arms.” She crinkled her freckled nose.

He would have thought she was jealous. She had been avoiding him since the tornado. He would have attributed it to her being busy with cleanup, but his instincts shouted it had something to do with that impulsive kiss. “I feel bad for adding to your load here. Could you use more volunteers to help with the extra load here? I’m sure some of my buddies at the Texas Cattleman’s Club would be glad to step up.”

“We can always use extra hands.”

“I’ll contact Gil Addison—the club president—and get the ball rolling. Maybe they’ll adopt when they’re here.”

“We can only hope.” Her hand fell to the cat’s head and she stroked lightly. The cat arched up into the stroke, purring loudly. “I’m working on arranging a transport for some of the unclaimed pets to a rescue in Oklahoma. A group in Colorado has reached out to help as well, but we’re still trying to find a way to get the animals there. And since the Colorado group is a new rescue, I need to look over their operation before entrusting our animals to their care. Except I don’t know how I’ll be able to take off that much time from work for the road trip, much less be away from Evie for that long. She’s still unsettled from the trauma of last month’s storm. But, well, you don’t need to hear all about my troubles.”

“My personal plane is at your disposal,” he said without hesitation.

“What? I didn’t realize you have a plane. I mean I know you’re well off, but....”

Her shoulders braced and he could almost see another wall appearing between them. He appreciated that she wasn’t impressed by his money, but also hated to see another barrier in place.

Still, the more he thought about flying the animals for her, the more the idea appealed to him. “Make the arrangements with the rescue and whatever else needs to be done as far as crating the animals. I assume you have procedures for that.”

“Yes, but....” Confusion creased her forehead. “I don’t know how to say thank-you. That’s going above and beyond.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. This is a win-win.” He got to help the animals, score points with Megan and spend more time with her to boot.

“But the cost—”

“A tax write-off, remember? Fly animals as far as you need them to go and your time away will be reduced considerably.” This idea just got better and better, not only for the animals, but also by giving him an “in” to see Megan, to figure out where to take this attraction. “This isn’t a one-time offer either. You’re packed with critters here. If there’s help out there, take it and my jet will fly them there.”

“I can’t turn you down. The animals need this kind of miracle if we’re going to find homes for them by the holidays.” She exhaled hard. “I need to get to work placing calls. There are rescues I hadn’t considered before because of the distance and our limited resources. Rescue work happens fast, slots fill up at a moment’s notice.”

“And this little gal?” He stroked the cat’s head and for once the calico didn’t dig her claws in. Perched on the back of the chair, she arched up into his hand and purred like a race car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep her?”

He pulled his hand away. “I can’t. I’m at work all the time, which wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“Of course.” Megan looked disappointed in him, even though he’d just offered her thousands of dollars’ worth of flight hours.

But then, hadn’t he said it? Offering his plane was easy. Taking care of another living being? Not so easy.

“I should let you get to work on lining up those rescues.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and plucked a pen from the cup on the edge of her desk. He jotted a number on the back of the card. “This is my private cell number and my secretary’s number. Don’t hesitate to call.”

When he passed her the card, their fingers brushed. He saw the flecks of awareness sparkle in her eyes again. He wasn’t mistaken. The mutual draw was real, but now wasn’t the time to press ahead for more.

“Thank you again.” She flipped the card between her fingers, still watching him with suspicion, their old conflicts clearly making her wary. “Would you like to name your kitty cat?”

“That’s not my kitten.”

“Right,” she answered, a smile playing with her plump lips that didn’t need makeup to entice, “and she still needs a name. We’ve had to name so many this past month, we’re out of ideas.”

He thought for a second then found himself saying, “Tallulah.”

“Tallulah?” Her surprise was a reward. He liked unsettling her. “Really, Whit? I didn’t expect such a...girly name choice.”

“That was the name of my mom’s cat.” She was briefly theirs, but when they’d moved, the cat ran away. Then his father had said no more pets. Period.

“It’s a lovely name.”

He nodded quickly then turned to leave.

“Whit,” she called, stopping him short, “about what happened after you helped me get to Evie that day....”

Was she finally acknowledging the impulsive, explosive kiss? The thought of having her sooner rather than later... “Yes?”

“Thank you for helping me reach my daughter.” She looked down at her shoes for an awkward moment before meeting his eyes again. “I can never repay you for that...and now this.”

“I don’t expect repayment.” The last thing he wanted was to have her kiss him again out of gratitude.

The next time they kissed—and there would be a next time—it would be purely based on mutual attraction.

* * *

The stroke of Whit Daltry’s eyes left her skin tingling.

Standing at the shelter’s glass door, Megan rubbed her arms as she watched Whit stride across the parking lot back to his truck. His long legs ate up the space one powerful step at a time. His suit coat flapped in the late afternoon breeze revealing a too-perfect, taut butt. Her head was still reeling from his surprise appearance, followed by the generous offer she couldn’t turn down.

After six weeks of reliving that brief but mind-blowing kiss, she’d seen him again and would be spending an entire day with him. Somehow, because of that day they’d gone from avoiding each other to.... What? She wasn’t sure exactly.

Maybe he’d gotten the wrong idea from that kiss and thought she was looking for something more. But she didn’t have time in her life for more. She had a demanding job and a daughter, and both had taken a hard hit from last month’s tornado.

And speaking of her child, she’d left Evie long enough. Thank goodness Miss Abigail had been so accommodating about helping with Evie. The retired legal secretary had even babysat a couple of evenings when Megan got called out to assist with an emergency rescue. Evie had been particularly clingy this past month. And she couldn’t blame her. That nightmarish day still haunted Megan as well; she often woke up from dreams of not reaching her daughter in time, of the whole roof of the preschool collapsing.

Dreams that sometimes took a different turn with Whit arriving, of the kiss going further....

Megan watched his truck drive away, a knot in her stomach.

It would be too damn easy to lean on those broad shoulders, to get used to the help, which would only make things more difficult when she was on her own again. Megan turned away from the door and temptation, returning to reality in the form of her precious daughter sitting on Abigail’s lap as they played on the iPad together. Evie’s knight’s armor was slipping off one shoulder, her toy sword on the ground beside her tiara.

Megan held out her arms. “Come here, sweetie.”

She gathered Evie into her arms and held her on her hip. Not much longer and her baby girl would be too big to carry around. This precious child, who wanted to be a “princess knight” for Halloween and cut through tornadoes with a foam sword. Megan had hoped her daughter would relax and heal as they put the storm behind them, but now Thanksgiving was approaching and Evie was still showing signs of trauma.

The holidays were tough anyway, reminding her that she was the sole relative in Evie’s life. She was a thirty-year-old single mom.

And damn lucky to have landed in this small town full of warmhearted friends.

“Thank you, Abigail, for helping out even after the school finished repairs. You’ve been a lifesaver.”

The roof of Little Tots Daycare had been reconstructed quickly, but the dust and stress had taken its toll on the kids and the workers. Some had gotten the flu.

Others, like Evie, had nightmares and begged to stay home. Her daughter conquered pretend monsters in iPad games and dress-up play.

Abigail rocked back in her chair. “My pleasure. She’s a doll.” She pinched Evie’s cheek lightly. “We have fun readin’ books on the iPad. Don’t we, Evie?”

Bringing her daughter to work wasn’t optimal, but Megan didn’t have any choices for now. “Thanks again.”

“I’m always a call away. The benefit of being retired. Maybe we’ll see Mr. Daltry again tomorrow. Now wouldn’t that be nice if he became a regular volunteer?”

As much as Megan wanted to keep her distance, she couldn’t ignore all the amazing things Whit had done for her.

Evie patted her mother’s cheek with a tiny palm. “Where did the nice man go?”

“He brought a kitty to stay with us here.”

She stuck out her bottom lip. “We don’t like people who dump their pets. Does this mean I can’t like him anymore?”

“He didn’t dump the kitty, sweetie. He saved her from being cold and hungry in the woods.” Although she had to admit she was disappointed he hadn’t offered to keep the cat. She struggled not to resent his wealthy lifestyle. Everyone knew he was a self-made man who’d worked hard to build a fortune before his thirty-fifth birthday. “Tallulah lost her family and had nowhere else to go. We’re going to help her find them again.”

“’Lulah?”

“Right. That’s her name.”

“She can come home wif us and live in our house. I’ll get her a costume too.”

They already had three cats and two dogs, all of which Evie had been dressing up as part of her medieval warrior team. The costumes transformed them into horses, elves, queens and even a unicorn.

Their house was full.

And Megan was at her limit with work and her daughter. “You can visit Tallulah here while she waits to find her family. We have our kitties and doggies at home to take care of and love.”

Evie patted Megan’s face again. “Don’t worry, Mommy. I’ll tell Mr. Whit to keep ’Lulah.”

If only it worked that easily. “I need to work a little longer, just a few phone calls and then we can go home for supper. We’ll make a pizza.”

“Can Mr. Whit share our pizza?”

Abigail laughed softly from her perch behind the counter. “I think Mr. Whit wants to share a lot more than pizza.”

Evie looked up, frowning. “Like what?”

Megan shot Abigail an exasperated look before kneeling to tell Evie, “Mr. Whit is sharing his airplane to help send some of the puppies and kitties to forever homes before Thanksgiving.”

“He shares his plane? See. He is very nice. Can I play my games, please?” Evie squirmed down with her iPad, her foam sword tumbling from her hand. “I’m gonna play a plane game this time.” Her daughter put on her tiara and fired up a game for touring the states in a puffy airplane.

Megan glanced at the receptionist. “I don’t want to hear a word about Whit’s visit today, Abigail. And no gossiping.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see if other volunteers were listening in. Luckily, most of them were occupied with exercising animals, folding laundry and washing bowls. The only person even remotely close enough to hear was Beth Andrews, Megan’s favorite volunteer.

“Gossip?” Beth chimed in. “Did I hear the word gossip? That would surely never happen in the town of Royal where everyone stays out of each other’s business. Not.”

Beth wasn’t a known gossip, but was definitely known for helping out everywhere; she was very involved in the community. The leggy blonde owned Green Acres, a local organic farm and produce stand. Beth’s business had taken a big hit from the tornado. That made her generosity and caring now all the more special, given how rough life had been for her lately. The homemade goodies she brought to the animals were always a treat. Beth had that willowy thin, effortless beauty that would have had women resenting her if it weren’t for the fact she was so darn nice.

Abigail stroked her phone as if already planning a text. “It’s a gift having a community that cares so much. Like how Whit Daltry just showed up to make a big donation.”

Beth arched a blond eyebrow. “You two are speaking to each other?”

Megan shrugged her shoulders and examined her fingernails. “He’s helping with the overflow of animals. I can work with anyone for the good of the animals.”

“Everyone’s had their lives turned upside down since the twister. To lose over a dozen lives in a blink...to have our friend Craig gone so young....” She paused with a heavy sigh. “No one has been exempt from the fallout of this damn storm. Even our mayor was critically injured. And that poor Skye Taylor...”

“What tragic bad luck that she came back to town after four years on such a terrible day. How is she doing?” Megan rubbed her arms again, feeling petty for stressing over her life, thinking of Skye Taylor, found seriously injured and unconscious after the storm, her baby delivered prematurely. And since Skye was still in a coma, she hadn’t even met her child. Megan shivered again, even though she didn’t know the woman personally. As a mother, she felt a bond. Thank God Evie was safe. That’s what mattered most. She would figure out how to heal her daughter’s fears.

Clearly agitated, Beth thumbed a stack of shelter flyers. “Drew checked in with the family and Skye is still in a medically induced coma and the baby girl—Grace—is in the neonatal intensive care unit.”

Abigail sighed. “And the doctors still don’t know who the father is?”

Did this qualify as gossip? Megan wasn’t sure, but if the talk could help find the father, that would be a good thing. “I’ve never met her, but I heard a rumor Skye ran off with the younger Holt brother despite their parents’ protests. So I assumed he was the dad.”

Beth tucked a stray curl back into her loose topknot, scrunching her nose. “I recall hearing mentions of an age-old feud between the Holts and Taylors. Abigail, do you have any idea who started it?”

“I haven’t a clue. Quite frankly, I’m not sure they do either, anymore.”

Beth shook her head slowly. “How sad when feuds are carried on for so long.” She stared pointedly at Megan. “So what’s this with Whit Daltry coming to the shelter to see you? And you actually spoke to him rather than running out the back exit?”

“Running out the back? I wouldn’t do that.” Okay, so maybe she had avoided him a time or two but hearing it put that way made her sound so...wimpy. And she didn’t like that one damn bit. “I think we’ve all done some reevaluating this past month. If he wants to offer his private plane to transport homeless animals to new homes, who am I to argue?”

Beth laughed softly. “About that flight... Look how neatly he tied in a way to see you again. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

Not even having a clue how to respond to that notion, Megan clasped her daughter’s hand and retreated to her office. The second she closed the door, she realized she’d done it again. Run away like the coward she’d denied being.

But when it came to Whit Daltry and the way he flipped her world with one sizzling look, keeping her cool just wasn’t an option.


Three (#ulink_cdce964c-df95-50d5-8f7a-9e660a953aa5)

Whit parked his truck in the four-car garage of his large, custom-built home in Pine Valley. With a hard exhale, he slumped back in the seat. He’d spent the whole day at work thinking about seeing Megan at the shelter when he’d brought in the cat. Knowing he’d locked in a reason to see her again pumped him full of excitement. Life had sucked so badly the past month. Feeling alive again was good. Damn good.

He reached for the door and stepped out into the massive garage, all his.

Growing up, he’d lived in apartments half the size of this space, which also held a sports car, a speed boat and a motorcycle. He liked his toys and the security of knowing they were paid for. Since the day he’d left home, he’d never bought anything on credit. His college degree had been financed with a combination of scholarships and two jobs. Debt was a four-letter word to him.

His father had showered his family with gifts, but too often those presents were repossessed or abandoned as the Daltry family fled creditors yet again. His parents had passed away years ago, his dad of a stroke, his mom of a broken heart weakened from too many years of disappointment after disappointment.

Every time they’d moved to a new place, his mother wore that hopeful expression that this time would be different, that his father wouldn’t gamble away the earnings from his new job, that they could stay and build a life. And every time she was wrong. Most times that hope would fade to resignation about a week before his dad announced the latest cut-and-run exit for the Daltry family. Whit came to appreciate the advance warning since it gave him the opportunity to tuck away some things before the inevitable pack-and-dash.

He’d built this house for himself as a tribute to leaving that life behind. But he’d waited to start construction. He’d refused to break ground until he had the money to pay for every square foot of it. People viewed him as lighthearted and easygoing—true enough, up to a point. No way in hell was he sinking himself into debt just to make a show of thumbing his nose at the past. He knew the pain of losing everything as a kid and he refused to go through that again. He’d been damned lucky his home in Pine Valley hadn’t sustained any damage from the storm.

As he stepped from the garage into the wide passageway, he thought of all this empty space. He made a point of donating to charities, even throwing in elbow grease as well when called for, like pitching in with the never-ending cleanup after the tornado.

And now working with the animals? Except he wasn’t. He’d left that cat at the shelter. He’d meant everything he said about not having time for a pet, but Megan had asked about temporary fostering and he’d rejected that out of hand. He knew he’d disappointed her with his answer. Or rather confirmed her preconceived negative notions about him.

Maybe if he got a couple of cats to keep each other company. Cats were more independent, right?

As he opened the door to the kitchen, his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and the caller ID showed...Megan Maguire?

His pulse kicked up a notch at just the sight of her name. Damn, he needed to get a grip. Pursuing her was one thing. Giving her this much control over how he felt? Not okay. He needed to keep things light, flirtatious.

He answered the phone. “Hello, pretty lady. What can I do for you?”

“Seriously?” she asked dryly. “Do you always answer the phone that way?”

“Megan?” he answered with overplayed surprise. “Well, damn, I thought it was my granny calling.”

She laughed, her voice relaxing into a husky, sexy melody. “You have a granny?”

“I didn’t crawl out from under a rock. I have relatives.” Just really distant ones who had cut ties with his branch of the family tree long ago because of his father. “Actually, my grandmother passed away ten years ago. My cheesy line was totally for your benefit, I just didn’t expect it to fall so flat. So let’s start over.”

That might not be a bad idea: to call for a do-over in a larger way, erase the past three and a half years.

“Sure,” she said. “Hello, Whit, this is Megan Maguire. I hope I didn’t disturb your supper.”

“Well, hey there, Megan.” He opened the stainless-steel, oversized refrigerator and pulled out an imported beer. “What a surprise to hear from you. What do you need?”

He sat in a chair at the island where the cooking service he’d hired left a dinner in a warmer each night. He couldn’t cook. Tried, but just didn’t have the knack for more than grilling and he worked too late to grill. He twisted open the beer and waited for her to answer.

“I was just loading my dishwasher, and this weird panic set in that maybe you weren’t serious earlier.”

“About what?” He tipped back a swig of the imported brew.

“Did you really offer your plane to transport animals?”

“Absolutely. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” His father was the king of broken promises, all smiles and dreams with no substance.

“Whew,” she exhaled. “Thank goodness. Because I asked a contact in Colorado to check out the rescue. I also spoke with the veterinarian the rescue uses and everything appears perfect. So I called them and they can still take a dozen of our cats, a huge help to us and to local animal control. Am I being pushy in asking how soon we can transport them because I would really like to see them settled before Thanksgiving?”

“Not pushy at all.” This was Thursday, with turkey day only a week away. He had a meeting he couldn’t miss on Friday, but the notion of spending the weekend with her was enticing as hell. He’d hoped this would work out. He just hadn’t realized how quickly the plan would come together. “Glad they have space to accommodate. I could see you’re stuffed to the gills.”

“Feeding and caring for so many animals is depleting our budget in a hurry.” Her voice was weary, tempting him to race over to her house with his pre-cooked dinner. “We try our best to plan for disasters, but having just built the new shelter, we’re stretched to the max.”

He couldn’t feed her tonight, but he could lighten some of her load. “I also meant it when I said I’ll talk to the Cattleman’s Club about rolling up their sleeves and opening their wallets. We can help. We’re about more than the Stetson hats and partying.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to all of this generosity. You’ve really come through for us with so much, especially offering your plane. Thank you.”

“Glad to help. Can you have the animals ready to fly day after tomorrow? I’m free to fly them to Colorado on Saturday.”

She gasped. “You are flying the plane? I thought you would have a pilot....”

Had he failed to mention that part of his offer? Would she go running in the opposite direction? Not with the cats’ well-being at stake. But might she try to send someone else from the shelter in her place? Had he just roped himself into a weekend with her kennel supervisor?

That didn’t change his promise. He didn’t break his word.

But he would definitely be disappointed to miss out on the chance to get closer to Megan.

He clicked speakerphone and placed his cell phone on the slate island. “I do have a pilot who flies me around if I need to have a meeting or entertain en-route. But I’m a licensed pilot too, quite proficient, if I do say so myself. What do you say? Let’s make a weekend out of it.”

“A weekend away together in Colorado?” The shock in her voice vibrated through the phone line. “Are you trying to buy your way into my life?”

“Now that stings.” And oddly enough, it really did. He wanted her to think well of him. “I will concede that I’m trying to get your attention, and bringing the cat today offered an excuse to see you again, but it’s not like I concocted a fake stray to meet you. Flying the other cats to Colorado is the right thing to do for the shelter and for our community. Even a hard-ass like me can see that. If you doubt my motives, bring your daughter along. She’s a great kid.”

The silence stretched and he checked the menu card with his meal—balsamic skirt steak with corn polenta—while he waited. Her answer was suddenly a lot more important than it should have been. But he wanted more time with her. Hell, he flat-out wanted her. He had since the first time he’d seen her. The tornado had just made him reevaluate. Life was too short and too easily lost to put off pursuing goals.

And right now, his goal was to discover if the chemistry between him and Megan was as explosive as that one kiss led him to believe.

“So, Megan? About Saturday?” He rolled the beer bottle between both palms, anticipation firing in his gut.

“Without question, Evie would love the adventure. I’m not able to offer her much in the way of vacation or special trips. She’s also been hesitant to stay at the sitter’s....” Megan drew in a shaky breath. “Saturday it is then.”

A thrill of victory surged through him, stronger than any he’d experienced in a damn long time.

“Excellent. And hey, feel free to make more calls and line up a place for the extra dogs and we can make it a weekly outing. Wait—before you accuse me of using the animals to get to you, the offer still stands if you want to send one of your staff in your place.”

She laughed dryly. “Let’s take it one week at a time.”

But he knew she wouldn’t be able to turn down the offer. He’d found the perfect in with her. “And by the way, a trip that long won’t all fit into one day. Be sure to pack an overnight bag.”

* * *

Megan held a clipboard and cross-referenced the information on the printout with the card attached to each cat carrier lined up inside Whit’s aircraft. The plane could easily hold a dozen or more people, but those sofas and lounge chairs were empty. The kitty cargo had been creatively stashed beneath seats and strapped under the food station bar.

Most of the felines were already curled up and snoozing from the sedative she’d administered prior to crating them. Three of the cats, though, were staring back at her with wide, drugged eyes and the occasional hiss, hanging on to consciousness and looking at her suspiciously. Sheba, an all-black fluff ball, had come from a home where she was an only pet and queen of her domain, but after her owner passed away, the extended family had dumped their mother’s beloved pet at the shelter. Sheba had been freaked out and terrified ever since. She needed a home environment, even a foster setting, until an adopter could be found. Skittles, an orange tabby stray, had been found at the shopping mall with no name tag, no microchip and no one to claim her. If she went much longer without a home setting, Megan feared Skittles would turn feral. And the third of the cranky passengers, Sebastian, was a gorgeous, very huge Maine Coon cat that desperately needed more space to move around than the shelter could offer.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/catherine-mann/sheltered-by-the-millionaire/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.