Her Forever Man

“To burn it,” she said, reaching for it.

Brock snatched it back. “Not in this room,” he said, visions of a house fire filling his head. “I’ll take care of it for you. More than friends, huh?”

“No, but I thought we were at least friends.”

The loneliness and betrayal in her voice and eyes grabbed his gut. Brock brushed the response aside. He had no time or space for this. “I need to get my daughter to bed and get back to work.”

“Thank you,” she said. “How sick is she?”

“Probably just a virus, but my pediatrician brother is in Blackstone. I keep waiting for the time I reap the benefit from his medical school tuition. My housekeeper’s off today, too. That calf’s ready to drop. You look okay, so I’ll leave,” he muttered, and headed out the door, his mind on the three hundred pressing issues facing him.

Halfway down the hall, he heard her footsteps behind him. “Excuse me,” she said.

Fighting impatience, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Yeah?”

She laced her fingers together, her prim stance at odds with her skimpy attire. “How old is your daughter?”

“Seven. Why?” he demanded, unable to keep the irritation from his voice

“I could stay with her,” she offered, “if you think that would help. I would like to help.”

Stunned, he stared at her warily. “Wearing that?”

Felicity’s cheeks bloomed with color. “No. I’ll change my clothes.” His expression must have revealed his doubt. “I can pour juice and water,” she told him. “I can read books.”

Bree would like the reading part even though she could read circles around most kids her age. For that matter, Bree might like Felicity. Brock wasn’t sure that was a good idea especially since he was hoping his silent partner would be packing her impressive rear end back to New York where it belonged as soon as possible.

“You sounded busy. If you’d rather I leave her alone…”

“No,” he said, flexing his fist in frustration. “Thank you,” he said, the words sounding grudging to his own ears.

She met his gaze, looking as surprised with herself as he was. The corners of her mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll change my clothes and be right out.”

Did he really want his daughter influenced by such a woman? Brock frowned. It was just for a few hours, he told himself. The housekeeper would be back soon. Deep in his gut, however, he had a strong feeling about Felicity Chambeau. And it wasn’t good. It would be easier if he could say his discomfort was due to something about her character, but he suspected it had more to do with his libido.

He swore under his breath and walked down the long hallway to Bree’s room. He told his daughter Felicity would stay with her and was immediately bombarded with questions.

“Where’s she from?”

“New York City,” Brock said, adjusting Bree’s pillow. “She’s no cowgirl, but she can read to you.”

“Is she old?”

“No.”

“Is she pretty?”

Brock tugged at his collar. “I’ll let you decide.”

“But what do you think?”

Thankfully, Felicity appeared outside Bree’s open door, her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back. She wore black jeans and a white silk shirt, but he couldn’t banish the image of her in the skimpy nightie with her hair in sexy disarray.

He inhaled and drew in her teasing elusive scent. Grinding his teeth at his susceptibility, he introduced the two females, then turned to Bree. “You know my cell phone number and my pager,” he told his daughter. “Call me if there’s any problem.”

“Cell phone, pager,” Felicity echoed. “I didn’t know there was cell coverage in Texas.”

Brock’s lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. “We may talk slowly, but we have a few modern conveniences like running water and cell phones. What were you expecting?”

Felicity shrugged. “A bell?” she suggested.

“We have one of those, too. The cell’s faster and doesn’t upset everyone on the ranch.” He adjusted his hat, feeling an odd twinge of discomfort at the look of curious fascination on Bree’s face. “Call me if you need me, baby.”

Brock left the room, and Felicity felt his departure like a physical force. Odd, she thought, that a man’s absence could be so strong when his presence was so imposing. Shaking off her strange sensations, she glanced at Bree and found Brock’s daughter staring back at her. Felicity felt another little twist of inadequacy. She didn’t have much experience with children. She’d offered to help Brock because she could see as a single father and head of the ranch he had too much to do, and she’d added to the list by arriving last night. If she’d told him that, however, she suspected he would have died before he would ask for help, especially from her.

Okay, she might not have much experience caring for a child, but she had experience being one. Felicity returned Brock’s daughter’s gaze. The little girl’s cheeks were slightly flushed with fever, but her blue eyes were curious and assessing.

Felicity smiled. “You have your father’s eyes.”

Bree smiled and nodded. “I’ve got his hair, too,” she said, tugging at her long ponytail, “but you can’t tell because he won’t grow his long like mine.”

“And you smile a little more often?” Felicity asked.

Bree nodded again. “Uncle Tyler is always telling Daddy to lighten up and he takes himself too seriously.” She rolled her eyes. “My brother does that, too.”

“Your brother, Jacob,” Felicity clarified, immediately liking this warm, outspoken child.

“Yes ma’am. Jacob. We’re twins.” She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. “You talk funny.”

“It’s because I’m from New York City,” Felicity said.

“Oh, well you can’t help it that you’re not from Texas,” Bree said sympathetically. “You’ll be much happier now that you’re here.”

Felicity couldn’t help chuckling. “What makes you so sure?”

“Texas is the best place in the world to live,” Bree said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Everybody wants to live here,” she said, then her face turned thoughtful and she rubbed her fingers over her quilt, “except my mom. She moved to California because she wants to be in the movies.” She lifted her chin, another gesture that reminded Felicity of Brock. “My dad says me and Jacob are more fun than movies.”

The mixture of pride and vulnerability in Bree’s eyes scored her heart, reminding Felicity of the dozens of times her own mother had sought a more exciting party or exotic trip in lieu of spending time with Felicity. She thought again of Brock. An honorable man? She’d believed that species was extinct.

She met Bree’s proud gaze. “You and Jacob are more fun than movies? I bet your dad is right.”

“He’s the best dad in the world,” she said, again in the matter-of-fact voice and gave Felicity an assessing glance. “Aunt Martina says all he needs is a good woman to drive him crazy on a regular basis. We don’t get many women around the Triple L. You wanna do it?”

Felicity blinked. Absolutely not, she thought, but managed a smile. “What an interesting idea. I’ll have to think about it. For now, let’s read a book.”

Two

“There’s another one ready to drop in the north pasture. I’ll check on her tonight,” Brock said to Chuck, his assistant foreman. His brother Tyler and son Jacob listened while they waited for Addie to put the dinner on the table. “Tomorrow, I need you to—” Brock broke off when he noticed none of them were paying attention. All three, instead, were gaping at something behind him. He frowned and turned around. “Hey, what—” Dressed in a pink sweater dress that caressed her curves the way every man would want to, Felicity Chambeau stood at the entrance to the informal dining room with a tentative expression on her face. “You said dinner is at six. May I join you?”

Her sophisticated appearance was at odds with the casual room. The oak dining-room table and chairs had served the Logans for at least three generations and bore crescent marks from teething babies, scars from forks jabbed into the surface, and though the table still gleamed, the polish wasn’t as shiny as it once had been due to countless spills of milk and juice. Currently it was set with stoneware plates and bowls, stainless flatware, napkins and a pot of coffee. With her cashmere dress and golden champagne hair, Felicity clearly didn’t belong here.

Brock watched Chuck suck in his gut while Tyler stepped across the room and offered his arm. “Please join us. I’m Tyler Logan. You must be Felicity Chambeau. We’re delighted to have you.”

Brock nearly barfed at his brother’s enthusiastic greeting. “Why doesn’t he just get down on his hands and knees and howl?” he muttered.

“If he doesn’t, I will,” Chuck said, his gaze still fastened on Felicity.

Brock exhaled in disgust. “You would think you two hadn’t ever seen a woman.”

“I haven’t seen any that looked like her in a long time,” Chuck retorted. “Just because you’re dried up, disinterested and bitter doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” He stepped forward and tipped his hat. “Howdy, ma’am. I’m Chuck Granby. Pleasure to meet you.”

Felicity smiled at both men, then looked at Jacob, Brock’s painfully shy son. “You must be Jacob. Bree told me about you this afternoon. She said you can already rope a calf.”

Jacob stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “My dad taught me.”

Grudgingly appreciative of her attention to his son, Brock glanced down and ruffled Jacob’s hair. “Bree would speak for all of us if you gave her the chance.”

“Oh, she did.”

Brock could just imagine the family secrets his daughter had spilled. “Great,” he muttered darkly.

“Don’t worry,” Felicity said. “She could easily be a PR person for the Logan family and the state of Texas. She’s determined to teach me how to speak Texan.”

“Maybe we can make a permanent resident of you,” Tyler said with a teasing grin. “You might like it here so much you want to stay.”

“Great,” Brock muttered under his breath as he thought about wrapping Tyler’s tongue around his throat.

His tall, sturdy housekeeper carried a steaming pot into the dining room. “Well, are y’all gonna stand around the table and look at it or sit down and eat?” She glanced up at Felicity. “You must be Miss Chambeau. I’m Addie, and I’ll warn you I don’t do much fancy cooking like you’re probably used to in New York. Seems like these men want the same ol’ thing every week or so.”

Brock approved of Addie’s brusque tone. She wouldn’t be bowled over by a pretty woman in a pink dress.

“It smells delicious, Addie,” Felicity said.

“Let me help you with your chair,” Tyler smoothly said at the same time as Chuck pulled one out from the large table. After Felicity had murmured her thanks, the two men sat on either side of her like adoring bookends.

“What brings you to Texas?” Chuck asked as Addie served the beef stew.

Felicity glanced uncertainly at Brock. “I—uh—”

“She’s here for a short visit,” he said. He didn’t want the whole crew to know she was a silent partner. He preferred that the crew not know she existed.

“She’s silent partner of the Triple L,” Tyler announced.

Brock fixed a glare on his brother and Tyler plastered an innocent grin on his face.

“A silent partner,” Chuck echoed in amazement.

“Very silent. I’m so silent I couldn’t tell the difference between a dairy cow and a steer,” she emphasized as if she sensed Brock’s displeasure. She was intuitive, Brock had to grant her that much. “One of my great-great-grandfathers had a little agreement with one of Mr. Logan’s great-great-grandfathers. The only thing I’m entitled to is a place to sleep when I visit.”

“A silent partner,” Chuck murmured again, grinning from ear to ear. “A knockout from New York City, no less.”

So get over it, Brock thought. He cleared his throat. “What do you do in New York?”

She hesitated. “Not as much as I would like, but I’ve been working on that.”

“How?” Tyler asked.

She swallowed a bite and took a sip. “You’ll laugh,” she said to all of them. “Everyone does.”

Brock took in the little signs of her discomfort, her slight wiggle in her seat, the way she dipped her head. He wondered how she managed to look appealing when she was being evasive. “I won’t laugh,” he said.

Her expression said she didn’t believe him. She glanced at Chuck and Tyler. “I think that every person has a purpose on this earth and if you find your purpose and perform it, then you will be happy and the world will be a better place.”

Brock nodded at the philosophy. He agreed. He just would have stated it differently. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Felicity’s lips twitched. “In this case, woman.”

“No argument there,” Chuck murmured.

“I’m in an unusual position,” Felicity continued. “My family has a history of being fortunate with their investments.”

“She’s loaded, too?” Chuck asked.

Tyler muffled a chuckle.

“Cut it,” Brock said.

Chuck stuffed a bite of stew in his mouth.

“Now that my parents are gone, I have to make decisions,” she said, sadness clouding her eyes. “My family has been fairly generous with charitable causes, but I think it’s my purpose to take that charity a step further.”

“In what way?” Tyler asked, no more curious than Brock was.

“I want to give away a significant portion of my inheritance,” she said. “I want to give the money to a worthy cause.”

Silence followed, and all three men stared at Felicity as if she’d spoken in Swahili.

Brock stifled a sigh. God save him from crazy women with more money than sense.

She gave a low chuckle. “Well, you didn’t laugh, but you look just like my financial advisors did the first time I told them what I wanted to do. I’m not clinically insane,” she assured them.

“Why don’t you want to keep it?” Chuck asked.

Brock watched the world-weariness tug at her wry smile. “Because the only thing the money is doing right now is accumulating. For what? There are better uses for it.”

“If you need a worthy cause,” Tyler said, “the hospital where I practice needs—”

“—Tyler,” Brock interrupted before his brother could get too wound up.

“If she wants to donate it to a worthy cause, we could use—”

“Miss Chambeau is a guest in our house. We don’t badger guests for money,” he said in the quiet, but rock-hard voice he used when he pulled rank. “Even for good causes.”

Tyler sighed impatiently, but dug into his stew.

Chuck shook his head. “I never heard of that one. So your job is to give away your money. Why don’t you want to keep it for your husband and kids?”

“I don’t have a husband and children,” she said in a crisp voice.

“Yeah, but some lucky guy’ll get a ring on your finger—”

Felicity shook her head. “I’m not getting married. Right now, my appeal to men is my inheritance. As soon as I give half of it away, my appeal will disappear.”

Half of it! Her statement was like another little bomb exploding. Brock stared at her in silence. Surely the woman knew she possessed more attractions than her endless supply of dead presidents.

Tyler cleared his throat. “You might bump into someone who can change your mind about that,” he said in a mild voice that bordered on flirtatious.

Felicity appeared to ignore the hint of flattery and firmly shook her head.

Chuck wrinkled his brow. “I still don’t get what you’re doing down here.”

“She’s down here so she can get away from the city and think without being questioned half to death,” Brock said, thinking the woman clearly needed a keeper. He was in no way interested in the job, but he wasn’t going to let anyone take advantage of her while she was in his house. The light was beginning to dawn. Her lawyers had probably sent her down here until she cooled on the idea of ditching her fortune. So now she was his problem.

“Oh,” Chuck said. “Well, after dinner if you’d like a tour around the ranch I’ll be glad to—”

“We’ve got that heifer ready to drop in the north pasture,” Brock said.

“I thought you were going to check on that one.”

“I’m doing the late check tonight. If Miss Chambeau wants to look at the ranch, I’ll take her.” He glanced up at Felicity.

“That would be nice. I haven’t been out today,” Felicity said, surprise widening her eyes. “Thank you.”

For the rest of the meal, Tyler took over the conversation and shared a humorous account about one of his young patients. They discussed Bree’s virus. Brock glanced at Felicity. Her breeding showed in her impeccable manners, but there was an empathy in her that he wouldn’t have expected. He noticed she gave the person to whom she was speaking her undivided attention, and lit up the table with her smile. She was no hardship to watch. The men would soon learn that fact. It wouldn’t be long before the whole county knew it. She was going to be one hell of a hardship to keep at the ranch, he thought, grinding his teeth.

Brock noticed his son’s quiet curious gaze on her through most of the meal. He wondered how much Jacob missed having a mother, and felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t have to worry with Bree. She made her preferences and needs known loud and clear. Jacob, however, felt things deeply and kept his thoughts to himself. Lately, in fact, he’d seemed a little too quiet.

When Addie brought cherry pie to the table, Felicity lifted her hand to refuse, then slid a glance to Jacob. “The stew was so good I can only eat a couple of bites of pie. Do you think you could help me?”

Jacob eagerly nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

Brock narrowed his eyes. His brother was intrigued with Felicity, and Chuck was salivating. His son was immune, though, he was sure of it. The ominous feeling in his gut tightened, however. If he didn’t keep a tight rein on her, Felicity Chambeau was going to wreak havoc at the Triple L.

After Brock checked on Bree, Felicity followed him out into the cool night air. She had readily agreed when he’d suggested a walk instead of a full tour. They wandered along the path beside the fence, and she took in her surroundings as well as she could, considering the darkness. She glanced up. The sky was huge and full of stars. Although she knew her ancestors, along with her parents, were turning in their graves, announcing her intentions had been liberating. She noticed the silence again. “It’s so quiet it feels loud,” she said, shaking her head.

“You’re just not used to it. If you listen you’ll hear the rustle of tree leaves in the breeze or a mockingbird. A little farther down the drive, you might hear a cow.”

Felicity stood still and closed her eyes. She heard the rustle of tree leaves. It was a fresh, musical sound that made her fingers itch to play the piano.

“Do you make a habit of telling people you’re going to give away half of your fortune?” he asked, interrupting the magical moment.

She opened her eyes and met Brock’s gaze. His intensity made her nervous, but she didn’t blink. “I thought you would laugh, and I knew you would think I’m crazy.”

“I just wondered if that was the reason your attorneys sent you down here.”

She sighed and walked over to the wooden fence. The wood was rough to her touch. “They’re hoping I’ll change my mind.”

“If you tell everyone you meet that you’re going to give away your money, then a lot of people will try to take advantage of you. Your attorneys are probably trying to protect you.”

“My attorneys have dollar signs in their eyes. Besides, I haven’t told everyone my plans. In New York, I confided in Douglas, and it turns out that was a very poor choice. And my attorneys are not trying to protect me,” she insisted. “They’re appalled that I’m considering doing such a thing and hoping I will change my mind.”

“Why do you think you won’t ever get married?” he demanded, then shrugged. “You’re not ugly.”

Felicity gave a double take at his pseudo-compliment. “Your absence of flattery is refreshing. Orthodontics is primitive, but you can’t deny the results,” she said, baring her teeth. “The contact lenses do their job, the physical trainer has done his, and the makeup artist at Georgette Klinger beauty salon has shared a few of her tricks with me. A lasting relationship means someone would love me for who I am on the inside. The Chambeaus have a history of developing their fortune, not their inner selves. I don’t want the kind of marriage my parents had, and I’m not sure I would know how to make anything better, so maybe I’d just better work on making the world and me better.”

Felicity took in the long-suffering expression on Brock’s face and gave a wry smile. “I think I was saying that more to me than to you. You’re an innocent passerby who got hit by my incoming lecture. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “You just sound kinda like Tyler did when he was thinking about being a psychiatrist. Thank God that phase didn’t last long.”

Felicity laughed. “Too much self-examination—”

“—is a waste of time and depressing. Not only that,” Brock said, “it causes indigestion. You need to find a job or get married. If you get busy, you’ll feel better.”

“I’m not getting married,” Felicity insisted. “And my primary skill has been writing checks to lawyers, financial consultants, and charities my mother favored.”

Impatience tightened his mouth. “Well, while you’re here I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell everyone you meet that you’re planning to give away half your fortune. We’re not set up to deal with the influx of traffic at the Triple L, especially during calving season.”

“You think I’m nuts. Go ahead and admit it,” she dared him. “You think I’m teetotally crazy,” she said, choosing an expression she’d heard Bree use.

“You’re not thinking about your heritage—” he began.

“I have no heritage,” she said. “I refuse to have the same kind of marriage my parents had. They led separate lives, and I was a disappointment to them. I was a clumsy, shy little girl with crooked teeth who liked to read a lot. I played the piano, but not quite well enough to be a concert pianist. I made good grades, but I wasn’t gifted. And socially, I didn’t sparkle.” She straightened her shoulders. “Sharing my wealth is the one way I can make my mark, the one way I can do something good and productive.”

Brock sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “I didn’t want to ask this,” he muttered. “Why are you down here?”

“I told you. My lawyers—”

“Why did they send you to me?”

“It wasn’t specifically to you,” she told him. All the same, she thought, his broad shoulders could handle anything.

“It was specifically to get you out of their hair for a while. Why did they send you away?”

“Because I hired a financial consultant to help me set up a foundation.”

“Douglas,” Brock said.

Regret and anger roiled through her. Felicity frowned. “Yes. Doug. He once worked for the firm my father used. I met him at a social function, and he told me he’d gone into business for himself. He called me a few times and appeared genuinely interested in helping me. I began to transfer funds for the foundation. Three weeks ago, he took that money and left for South America. My attorneys don’t trust my judgment. At the moment, I don’t trust myself either. I need someone I can trust. Someone who isn’t interested in me. Someone with integrity,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully.

“After you dump your money, what will you do?” Brock asked.

Felicity shrugged. She had only a vague picture of her future. “I don’t know. Enter a convent or buy a cottage on the coast of Maine and read and have three cats. I’m not sure it’s all that important. What’s important is that I set up this foundation.”

“They’re not going to let you in a convent with your body,” Brock muttered.

Her stomach took a little dip. She ignored it. “Then Maine it is,” she said wryly, then turned serious. “Would you help me?”

He shot her a wary look. “You just met me. Why would you trust me?”