The Billionaire of Bluebonnet (8 page)

Was this who was waiting for her in the lobby? She smothered a laugh with her fingers and moved toward the pair, her heart thumping.

Travis watched her approach and gave her a smile. Not his faint, amused smile, but a truly warm one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and made her want to drop her panties. “I don't know if you've noticed, but pigs like to eat everything.”

“Oh, I've noticed,” she said with a laugh. “And I'm pretty sure I warned you.”

“So you did,” he said, shortening the leash before Gregory could attack a bow dangling from one of the standing vases. He crooked his elbow and extended it to her. “Will you join me?”

Risa glanced at the lobby doors. “I'm waiting for the car.”

“I canceled it.”

“You what?”

“I canceled it. I'll call it back if you really want to leave, but I thought we could have our movie date first.” He hesitated for a moment, and then added, “Please.”

How could she resist a billionaire who asked nicely? Her heart melting, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “What movie are we watching?”

His lips twitched with amusement. “It's a double feature. First is
Charlotte's Web
. Next is
Babe
.”

A pig double feature? She laughed. “What an
incredible
coincidence.”

When they entered the private theater, she gasped in surprise again. A catered table had been set up on one end of the room. Mixers for mimosas had been set up in one corner, and a gourmet breakfast buffet complete with croissants, eggs, fruit, and the works lay spread out. On the floor was a small bowl full of crunchy vegetables for Gregory to snack on.

The pig immediately began straining at his leash, and as she watched, Travis unhooked it, gave the pig a scratch behind the ears, and released him to chow down. He looked over at her. “Before you ask, I double-checked to make sure that everything is okay with his diet.”

She smiled. “I guess you learned some stuff this week after all.”

“I did,” he said quite seriously, and moved to one of the seats to pick up a small box with a bright red bow on it. “This is for you.”

A present? Risa raised an eyebrow at him, but at his expectant look, she tugged the lid off.

Her stomach sank. It was a BlackBerry. As if she wanted one of the hateful things. “Travis, I don't think—”

“Before you say anything, let me show you something.” He took it from her and punched a few buttons, and then handed it back to her.

It was set on the business calendar. To her surprise, she realized this was Travis's BlackBerry. Why was he giving her his BlackBerry? She glanced over the calendar . . . and stopped.

His days were still full of meetings Monday through Friday. That was no surprise. But she noticed that at four
P.M.
on every day of the week, a new meeting had been added that extended through the rest of the evening.
Time with Risa
. She flipped to the weekends. They were blocked off as well. Both Saturday and Sunday read:
Time with Risa.

Oh, heck. Now she was going to cry. Her lip trembled a little and she swallowed hard.

“My Japan trip next week is canceled, too. We can negotiate in a videoconference. I really don't have to be there this time,” he said, expression serious. “I told them something had come up in my personal life.”

And was that . . . her?

“I don't want you to go. It's going to be hard for me to walk away from the work sometimes, but I'm willing to give it a try if you are.” His eyes were serious as he stared down at her. “Everything you said was right. I have been spending too much time working. I'm losing track of everything that I should be enjoying in life. There has to be a balance, and I want you to keep reminding me of that. Will you stay and give me another shot?”

“Stay?” she choked out.

“I'll give you the thirty grand I promised, but if you want to stay this time, there's no money involved. Just me. I said that everyone had a price, and you told me yours. You wanted time. I'm willing to give it to you. Every evening and every weekend, I'm yours. You could try to get a teaching job here in Houston. And we could see if we're a good couple, or if—”

Before he could finish the sentence, she was kissing him, her arms around his neck. He hauled her against him, his tongue slicking against her own hungrily. They continued to kiss for a long time, until Gregory gave a squeal as he ate and Risa began to laugh against Travis's mouth.

“Is that a yes?” he murmured to her.

“It's a definite yes,” she told him. How could she resist such a determined man, after all?

* * *

They spent their one-year anniversary back at Pearl's house in Bluebonnet. It had taken a few weekends, but they'd cleaned out a lot of Pearl's old things and donated them, replacing her old furniture with new and making the house their own. Whenever they needed time away—her from teaching in the city, and him from the latest round of meetings—they drove up to Bluebonnet and spent a weekend in the house and swimming in the pool. They walked Gregory around Bluebonnet early in the mornings and spent their evenings curled up by the fireplace, just enjoying spending time together.

In honor of their anniversary, Travis had had two cakes catered for them, because he always came up with clever details that emphasized just how much thought he put into every aspect of their relationship now.

Gregory's cake was a vegetable concoction made with bran and carrots.

Risa's cake was topped with a two-carat engagement ring.

Of course she said yes. How could she not? Her billionaire didn't like taking no for an answer, and this was one occasion when she didn't mind that in the slightest.

If you enjoyed THE BILLIONAIRE OF BLUEBONNET, keep reading for a special excerpt from

THE CARE AND FEEDING OF AN ALPHA MALE

AVAILABLE OCTOBER 2012 FROM HEAT BOOKS!

Chapter One

“So when are you going to marry that nice young man of yours?”

The elderly woman smiled, the sequins on her green evening gown blinding as she bent over and signed her name to the silent auction paperwork that Beth Ann held out to her. “I think you've kept him waiting long enough, young lady.”

“Oh, I think he'll have to wait a bit longer,” Beth Ann said lamely. She wished the woman would just go away. God, this party was a mistake. Beth Ann should have guessed that everyone here would still consider her and Allan as a couple. It didn't matter that they'd been history for the last year now. No one at this party was more than a casual acquaintance, or a business partner of a family member, and they wouldn't know that Beth Ann and Allan had broken up again, this time for good. And a cocktail party? Not the place to discuss the status (or lack of one) of her previous relationship.

Beth Ann shoved the envelope into Mrs. Douglas's hand. “Thank you for your donation. The Bluebonnet Historical Society appreciates your participation.”

Mrs. Douglas took the envelope she'd won and reached out and patted her on the hand. “I'm just saying, my dear, that you shouldn't keep a man like that dangling too long, or you might lose him.”

That's my hope
, Beth Ann thought to herself. She exchanged a few more pleasantries with the elderly woman, and then made a hasty getaway to the refreshment table, trying to keep the smile pinned to her face despite her simmering thoughts.

She was starting to hate parties like this. Or rather, she'd hated them ever since she'd dumped Allan once and for all. He was a nice guy. Great with kids. Ambitious. Her high school sweetheart. She knew him better than anyone else.

And he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

The first time he'd confessed to cheating on her, she'd blamed herself. Their sex life had gotten cold, so it must have been her fault that he had strayed. She'd gone to counseling to work through her anger and at home, tried to be more adventuresome in bed. She'd gone out of her way to make the relationship work. Forgave him when he groveled. Things had gone back to normal, and she'd prided herself on loving her relationship—and her man—enough to work on it. The second time he'd cheated, she was baffled. And hurt. Hadn't they worked through this? She'd broken up with him, but Allan had been devastated at losing her. He'd worked so hard to get back into her good graces, prove that he loved and cared for her, that she thought that this time, it'd be different. This time, he'd learned his lesson. And so she'd taken him back again.

The third and fourth times he'd cheated on her, well, she didn't know what the hell she'd been thinking.

Number five had been the last straw. For the last year, she'd told Allan that she'd been volunteering at the historical society, when in truth, she'd been going to beauty school. She thought he would be upset that she was spending so much time out of the house, but he'd been thrilled by her commitment to the city. Of course, she found out why later. The same day she became licensed, she'd found out that he'd been cheating with his secretary. In their house. In their bed. The sex in their relationship had fallen off again, so she should have guessed. And that time, when she'd caught him cheating, he'd skipped straight from the apologies right to buying her gifts. As if her hurt feelings were just irritating emotions that he couldn't be bothered with. She realized that he might love her, but he didn't respect her. Or, it seemed, want her. Which was fine with Beth Ann. She'd long ceased to be interested in their physical relationship, and the rest of it was a joke, too.

And she'd finally had enough.

She'd broken it off with Allan on New Year's. For good. She was her own person now, not “Allan's sweet little fiancée.” Or worse, Allan's “long-suffering” woman. She'd finally, finally had enough and had dumped him. And while being single for the first time in nine years was lonely and odd . . . she liked it. And she liked who she was now.

She was no longer “sweet, suffering in silence for love of Allan” Beth Ann. She was her own person. Beth Ann, salon owner and businesswoman. And she liked that new Beth Ann.

Now if she could just get everyone else on the same page as her. Mrs. Douglas's ignorance was forgivable—she only saw the elderly woman at fund-raisers, and those only happened a few times a year. But that didn't excuse the old friends, the bridge club buddies, the society friends, the business acquaintances, and all the others who'd come up to her over the course of the evening with the same types of comments.

So where's your other half?

When are you and Allan going to kiss and make up?

I don't see Allan with you.

Hey, can you give Allan a message for me?

She'd gritted her teeth and endured politely, deflecting questions. No, Allan wasn't with her. They weren't together anymore. No,
really
. No, they weren't getting back together. No, she hadn't moved on to someone else. No, that didn't mean she was holding a torch for Allan.

People would smile and give her faintly puzzled looks, as if they couldn't understand why a perfectly nice woman like herself wouldn't marry her high school sweetheart after being engaged for so long.

That part was her fault. Allan's business ran on customers and referrals. Gossip would destroy him, and the truth of their relationship? Would definitely be a career destroyer for him—as well as terribly embarrassing for her. She still loved Allan even if she didn't want to be with him. And so she'd kept her mouth shut about the affairs. He'd been discreet enough—all his mistresses had been out of town, and he'd been careful to cover his tracks. No one in Bluebonnet suspected the truth as to why she'd gone back and forth so many times with Allan before finally breaking it off with him. If people asked why they'd gone their separate ways, she simply told them the relationship had run its course. Which, of course, made everyone think that she was crazy. Allan Sunquist was a wonderful guy—nice, funny, wealthy, and devoted to her. Or so they all thought. Allan didn't help things, either. He seemed to think that it was just a matter of time before Beth Ann took him back, and that he simply had to say the right thing or give her enough sad, puppy-dog eyes to melt her heart and she'd forgive him all the hurt.

It was good that he wasn't here tonight. She'd been able to concentrate on the fund-raiser.

A hand grabbed her arm. “There you are. Can I see you for a minute?”

Her mother. Surprised, Beth Ann allowed Jeanette Williamson to drag her toward the ladies' room. “What's going on, Mom?”

“‘Jeanette' out in public, dear,” her mother said with a frown. Her free hand held an empty champagne glass and she handed it to a passing waiter, then took a fresh one off of his tray. “We need to talk, Beth Ann. I need a favor.”

Beth Ann stifled a groan. A favor? Now? “We're kind of busy,
Jeanette
,” she said, stressing her mother's name. “There's still two rounds of the silent auction to be awarded—”

Her mother sipped from her champagne glass and waved her hand. “I can handle that. I need you to do something else. Now go into the bathroom. I don't want anyone to hear us.”

Rolling her eyes, Beth Ann obeyed. The party—a fund-raiser for her father's political party—was one of her family's favorite events. And while she wasn't big on politics, she recognized a lot of the familiar faces from society parties. Even though the Williamsons lived in quiet Bluebonnet, her father had friends in high places, and as a result, they went to a lot of benefits and fund-raisers. Beth Ann volunteered at her fair share because it was expected of her as Allan's fiancée and her father's daughter. This party was no exception, and the beautiful room was filled elbow to elbow with people in cocktail dresses, wineglasses in hand as they strolled past the silent auction placards she'd carefully placed on the tables earlier that day.

Luckily, the women's restroom was empty. She moved into it and locked the door behind them, then did a quick scan under the stalls. No one. Good. She turned around and observed her mother swigging her champagne through the massive gilt mirror. “What is it?”

Jeanette waved, trying to swallow her drink, and Beth Ann leaned against the marble countertop of the sink while she waited. If she was with Miranda at a party, she'd have sat up on the countertop and swung her legs, but her mother wouldn't have approved of that. So she settled for checking her updo for out-of-place strands of hair and examining her figure in her short, swingy cocktail dress. It was glittery and had spaghetti straps and revealed a lot of skin. Allan would have hated it.

Beth Ann had picked it for that exact reason.

“Your sister,” Jeanette said, and tilted her glass to get the last sip of champagne.

Beth Ann frowned. “What's Lucy done this time?”

“I knew that when she begged to stay home it was a mistake. I just knew it.” Jeanette put the champagne glass down on the counter and threw her hands up in the air. “I called home and she's not there. She's off with those DwarfQuester people—”

“QuestMasters,” Beth Ann corrected.

“All I know is that they dress up in costumes and pretend to be elves and dragons. And your sister is hanging out with them again.”

“She's seventeen, Mom. It's a harmless group.” Maybe a little on the geeky side, but pretty harmless as far as friends went. “Besides, how do you know Lucy is with them? I thought she had a headache?”

“She
said
she had a headache,” her mother accused. “But she told me a week ago that they were having a big campout and all of the DwarfQuesters in the area—”

“QuestMasters.”

“That's what I said. She said they were all going to a big campout where they could all dress up and frolic all weekend with the fairies.”

Er, okay. That sounded a little strange. “So it's like a big slumber party?”

“Yes, and I forbid her to go. There will be boys there. I don't want her getting into a compromising situation. The last thing your father needs for his reelection next year is an unwed teenage daughter with a baby on her hip. You saw what it did to Sarah Palin.”

Beth Ann rolled her eyes. “Mom, she's hanging out with friends. She's not getting pregnant.”

“I don't want her with them. You saw her new boyfriend, didn't you?”

She'd seen him. He was short, scrawny, and had a goatee that was so long that he'd braided it and tied it back with a red rubber band. “I think so.”

Her mother leaned in. “She calls him ‘Colossus.' Now what do you think that is for?”

Oh gawd. She did not want to have this conversation with her mother, who was currently tipsy in a fund-raiser bathroom. “I'm sure she's fine—”

“Not if she is with Colossus. She asked me last week if I could get her birth control.” Her brows went up. “What do you think of that?”

Beth Ann winced. “At least she's asking?”

Jeanette gave her a scathing look.

“Okay, okay.” She threw her hands up. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to find that campground and bring your sister home.”

“But I can't leave right now. The auction isn't done and—”

Someone knocked at the bathroom door.

Jeanette dusted off her clothing with precise fingers and examined her own conservative dress in the mirror. “Your father doesn't know anything about this, of course. He's meeting with Senator Brown to discuss how he launched himself.” She gave Beth Ann a pointed look. “You know that's his dream.”

Beth Ann wisely did not point out that her father would need to do a bit more than be mayor for a town with a population of two thousand people before he would have a senatorial seat handed to him. “Fine.”

They slipped out of the bathroom with a smile and a nod at the woman waiting.

“You're going to go now?” her mother insisted, smiling cheerfully at one of her friends nearby.

“Do I have any choice? It's either that or let Lucy get impregnated by the Colossus, right?” Her mother gave her a scathing look, warning her to keep her tone down. “Just let me grab my jacket—”

Jeanette grabbed Beth Ann's arm and steered her toward the kitchen. “I'll get your jacket. I suggest you go out that way.”

Puzzled, Beth Ann looked at the kitchen, and then back at her mother. “Why?”

“Because I just saw Allan enter.”

Ugh. This evening had just gone from bad to worse. She leaned in and gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. “I'm heading out as we speak.”

Her mother grabbed another champagne glass from a waiter. “It's probably best that you go anyhow. I can't drive—I've been drinking.”

Like a fish
, Beth Ann thought to herself. She headed for the coordinator and made her excuses—of course they didn't mind if she left early, they just hoped everything was okay. Beth Ann smiled and cited a migraine, even rubbing her temples to add conviction to her lie. How awful was it that her mother was going to send Beth Ann out to hunt down Lucy while she swigged cocktails and mingled with her father? Pretty awful, but not surprising in the slightest.

She was starting to think Lucy had the right idea.

Beth Ann had almost made it to the kitchen door when a hand grabbed one of the spaghetti straps of her dress, halting her in place.

“Bethy-babe,” Allan cooed. He was dressed in a sharp tux, his hair a little longer than it should have been, but he was still handsome. He gave her a warm smile that seemed a little too broad to be sincere. “Been looking everywhere for you, babe.”

She pried his fingers from her dress strap. “Hey, Allan. I have to go—”

“Don't I get a kiss? I'm wearing your favorite cologne.” He leaned in so she could smell him.