Lone Star Baby Scandal

It probably shouldn’t have happened but that was one thing he would never regret. As his eyes had surveyed the large ballroom and the people seated at the linen-covered tables, Sophie stood out like a diamond set against dark granite. He hadn’t been able to resist taking her hand and pulling her out onto the dance floor. Sophie had protested and he understood her side. She felt herself to be only a secretary who had no place dancing with her boss. He didn’t give a damn.

She’d driven him crazy for most of the time she’d worked for the company, deflecting his teasing in complete innocence. If she had given him so much as a wink or a beguiling smile, he would have jumped her bones in a heartbeat. But the ever-proper Sophie never did even though he sensed a few times she wanted to. The attraction between them was there. The sparks went off like static around them every time they got close. He’d just never been able to get her to admit it. At the ball, with her in that dress, he hadn’t cared. He had to have her. Period.

As much as she was beautiful, she was also about as ornery as a mule. His father had called her persnickety. Let Miss Sophie get her hooks into something and she would not let go no matter what. For the years she’d worked for him, those talons had grabbed hold of his hide and she was damn near vicious in her efforts to guide him in the direction she wanted him to go. She’d been there ever since that day in the hospital, his lowest day, when she’d stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, and calmly stated with absolute resolve if for one second he thought he was just going to lie in that bed and rot away, he could think again. Giving up was not an option. If he didn’t agree with her, he was a jackass. And he was going to have to fight her tooth and nail, day in, day out, before he would be allowed to just give up. It was time for the pity party to end. They had work to do.

She’d never strayed from his side. Even on his worst days when his self-pity and self-loathing overcame his common sense, she was there, taking the verbal punches and flinging back a few of her own. Clay didn’t know of another human being who could talk to him the way she did that day. Not and get away with it.

And it continued through the months of therapy. She accepted no excuses, daring him to shut her out, and with each day his respect for her grew. What she ever saw in this broken-down, scarred ex-cowboy he would never know. It wasn’t about money. She had never asked for a raise in salary and had, in fact, purchased some office supplies out of her own pocket and never said a word about it. He’d happened to find a receipt. When questioned she’d said only that it wasn’t very much so why bother anyone for the money? He had insisted she set up an account at the local office supply store, then had to make her promise to use it.

Most people tended to cower at his anger and between his injuries and the stab in the back of his ex-bitch from hell, he’d had plenty to feel angry about. Rage often filled him but even when he lashed out, Sophie never batted an eye. He owed her his life. That was a fact no one could dispute. And that made her even more tempting than she’d even been before.

He had given considerable thought to the possibility that his attraction to her was because for him, she’d become a nurse, a psychiatrist, a trainer, a cook and sometimes a shoulder to cry on. All wrapped in one beautiful package. But it wasn’t because of anything she’d said or done. It wasn’t just because she was hands down one of the most beautiful and intelligent women he’d ever met—and yet it was all of those things and more. Clay wanted her. In his house. In his bed. Twenty-four-seven. And he’d tried. But for reasons he didn’t understand, Sophie refused. Nor would she let him touch her again. Damned frustrating. If this was some kind of misguided ploy to get him to notice her—to want her—it was working. But when was it going to end?

Instead of returning to the house, she joined him on the bleachers without a word, resting her arms on her knees and fiddling with a wild flower she’d found somewhere.

“So what’s on the schedule for today, boss?”

She knew the answer: nothing. But she asked anyway. She always did.

When he didn’t answer, she proceeded to give him a few choices. “You’ve left your cloud-computing business in the hands of others far too long. It’s past time you picked up the reins.” He sniffed at the pun and watched her grin before she continued. “The cows are calving. You have six new foals on the ground. Jonesy said they all looked top-notch. After lunch, why don’t we head to the foaling barn and check them out? I love seeing the new foals.” And you used to, she didn’t say. After two years, he’d learned what Sophie didn’t say held as much weight as what she did say.

“Okay.” He shrugged, knowing full well she would badger him all day if he didn’t agree. He hadn’t been down to the foaling barn since the accident. It had been a place where he’d grown up. A place to plan his future, to dream about all the things he wanted to do in his life. But no more. That life, as he knew it, was over.

“I’ll go and check on lunch and give you a ring when it’s ready. Can you make it down the stairs by yourself?”

The glare he gave her produced the full grin he loved to see on her face.

“Oh, you poor old soul,” she teased, hopping down from the bleachers. “I’ll have Nathan come and carry you to the house.”

“Not unless you want Nathan hurt.”

She giggled and turned toward the house. Nathan was the ranch hand she had called when, just after returning home from the extended stay at the hospital, Clay fell and couldn’t drag himself back onto his feet. At six-foot-four and two hundred and eighty-five pounds, Nathan was a close match to Clay in physical size and stamina. He had Clay up and on his way in a fast minute. Since then it had become an inside joke between them. If Clay got stubborn and refused to get out of his chair or dismissed a call to dinner, she threatened him with Nathan. She was playing on his ego. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he let her get away with it most of the time. He was not a damned invalid. He might not be able to swing his leg over a saddle—yet—but he could damn well make it up the stairs by himself.

He recognized that Sophie was well-intentioned. He was almost back to 100 percent except for the limp that would take years to overcome, but she knew that implying he was an invalid pushed his buttons. Few things stuck in his craw like that one did. He had come to accept her methods and her teasing without flinging some nasty remark back in her direction, but many times he’d had to bite his tongue to achieve that end. Her nature was that of a mother hen and one of her chicks had fallen out of the nest. Well, peep, peep. He swung his legs over the edge of the stairs and followed her to the main house, cane in hand.

* * *

“You received an email from someone named Conrad Drexler,” she told Clay as Rose set a beautifully seared steak in front of him. “It sounded important. He wants you to call him at your first opportunity.”

“Yeah, I’ll call him after lunch.”

“Clay, what’s going on? You’ve been closed up in your office for over a week. Is there something I should be doing? Has something happened?”

“Nope. Not a thing. All’s good.”

He wasn’t telling the truth. She’d learned to look for a slight pulsating under his left eye if he was upset, angry or concerned about something. It never failed. And right now the tiny vein was pulsing for all it was worth.

“Well, everything appears to be going as it should. Everest stock is soaring and the people I’ve spoken with seem genuinely happy with the quality of service they are getting.” She smiled at him. “Word has spread and it’s growing unbelievably fast. But I guess you know that?” The business’s success had propelled him to the rank of billionaire. After putting his days as the world’s top cowboy behind him, he’d also started several other companies and all were doing well, although not as well as Everest.

“Yeah,” he answered as he began to cut into the perfectly grilled steak. “So far Everest is doing all right.”

When a company stopped gaining and growing at a rate Clay thought was acceptable, he did as he had always done in the rodeo arena: he studied. And studied some more. He’d compiled statistics on every working bull in the circuit and its method of removing a rider from its back. Was the bull a spinner, a kicker, did it rotate its shoulders and if yes, in what direction and to what degree? What were its weaknesses and its merits? He took into account age and lineage and any other factor he could find on any one cow and by the time he pulled up to the rodeo arena, he knew every bull in the lineup inside and out. It didn’t matter which one he drew, he knew more about it than the owner did. The same went for the industries where he did business.

But knowledge was only a part of the puzzle. Where it ended, Clay’s tenacity took over. When he set his mind on something, accomplishment was usually just around the corner. He had a knack for business, was a genius with numbers and statistics, and developing and running a company came as naturally to him as breathing was for everyone else.

But something was going on. If she couldn’t figure it out, she would have to wait on Clay to tell her. Oftentimes that wasn’t until he had managed to solve the problem. She wasn’t usually called in unless things were nearly out of control and he needed her help. She supposed all she could do at this time was watch his body language and be prepared for anything.

“Aren’t you going to finish your lunch?” Cole asked as she stood and walked toward the door.

“Not really hungry. See you later.”

“You pulled me all the way back to the house with a lecture on eating right—then you don’t eat?”

She shrugged. “I’ll get something later.”

With a sigh of frustration Clay picked up his full plate, a napkin, cutlery and his drink and disappeared inside of his office, closing the connecting door between their offices. Drexler was one of the men who’d helped Clay develop Everest. What the exact purpose of his call was, Clay hadn’t said. He played his cards pretty close to his chest until his idea took root or problem was solved.

If anyone called him an entrepreneur to his face, he would laugh it off and respond by saying he was just an old cowhand who had run into some luck. In truth he was a shrewd and intelligent businessman who seemed to have a natural ability to turn dust into gold.

The bull that changed his life years ago didn’t merely crush his leg and open his belly. It figuratively ripped open his heart, challenging his mind and his spirit. As his injuries healed, inside he’d carried frustration, rage, sadness, a touch of hopelessness and always a hint of the bitterness he tried to hold back. Emotions he managed to conceal from most people he couldn’t hide from her. Sophie knew that handsome face better than she knew her own. She could tell when he thought someone was lying, when he was holding back his anger, when he thought something was inappropriately funny. She knew when the sparkle that lit his emerald-green eyes meant to come forward or turn tail and run. Most women made the mistake of running the wrong way—straight into his arms. A few weeks later, whatever they’d had—or thought they’d had—was over and no doubt they were still wondering what had happened.

She hoped she would never again see the pain Clay tried to hold inside. Or the fury. But some of it was still there. The hurt, the bitter embarrassment and pure rage that his ex-fiancée had caused. Sophie had to surmise that was the reason he still hadn’t dated very much since the accident.

He was the most intelligent man she knew. He had a remarkable sense of humor that was slowly coming back. But it was his deep emerald-green eyes and the rare smiles on a face that still took her breath away even after the five years she’d been an employee. His hands, callused and powerful, could be gentle when he touched a woman, as if he were stroking a newborn foal. The spicy cologne mixed with his natural scent drew females like bees to a flower. Except Clay Everett was certainly no flower. He was hard, raw and pure male.

The accident and subsequent changes he’d had to make in his life shortened his temper and did nothing to improve his attitude. If anything it gave him a dangerous edge, which ironically, to most women, was even more appealing. The same power that held a one-ton bull beneath him was still harnessed inside him; in the bedroom a woman knew it was there. And Sophie knew firsthand just how sexy the man could be after that night of too many cocktails and too many steamy looks at the masked charity event in May.

The next morning, as the sun appeared over the distant hills, she had slipped from the room, dressed and headed for her car. It had taken all weekend to shake herself loose from the spell he’d cast, and even then her life would never be the same. She could feel it. But Monday morning when it was time to report to the Flying E for work, she’d done so with her head held high. She’d brushed past him straight into her office space with a brisk good-morning and refused to look straight into his eyes. That night had been a mistake and it would not be repeated. If he had any ideas to the contrary, the quicker he forgot them the better for all concerned.

It was just too bad no one had given Clay the memo.

Three

Friday morning Sophie opened her eyes and focused on the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. Seven o’clock. She had the day off. The local weatherman had predicted beautiful weather and she knew exactly how she was going to spend the day. After tossing back the covers, she stood from the bed and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Clay was in Dallas attending a meeting with some of his stockholders, so the day was her own. She had a chance to take a beautiful horse and roam over fifty thousand acres of Texas hill country just waiting to be explored. Since moving his office to the ranch and her own relocation to Royal, Texas, she had taken advantage of Clay’s generosity in allowing her to borrow one of his many horses and ride to her heart’s content.

Foregoing her usual morning coffee and dry toast, she drove the six miles to the Lazy E Ranch. After pulling her car up next to the barn, she entered the main building and headed down the right-hand hallway. The smell of freshly cut alfalfa and sweet-corn molasses swirled around her on a gentle breeze. She heard Hopper nicker before she reached his stall.

Clay had been surprised that first day he’d found her in the main barn. After she explained that she’d been raised with horses and really missed them, he had quickly assured her she was welcome to ride any horse at the ranch during her time off. It became addictive. She’d chosen a black-and-white paint named Hopper. He seemed as eager to leave his stall for an adventure as she was to leave the office. In no time she had checked his hooves, given him a quick brush and thrown a saddle on his back. After that first glorious day, Sophie never missed the chance to go riding.

About the time she led him out of the barn toward the north gate, Clay’s voice hailed her. Surprised, she turned toward him.

“Well, good morning,” she said, coming to a stop. “Did you cancel your meeting?’

“Yeah. I have to go into Dallas next week anyway so I decided to meet with the stockholders then,” he explained. “It’s a beautiful day. Mind if I tag along?”

Yes. “Of course not.” She tossed the reins over Hopper’s neck near the saddle and gave him a friendly pat. “So has the doctor given the okay for you to swing up into a saddle?”

“I haven’t really asked for permission.”

“And you’re doing it anyway.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

“I think I can still mount pretty good. I don’t expect to have any problems.”

Ornery man. She refused to take the bait. She’d glanced once at his face. His eyes glistened and a shadow of a smile touched those succulent lips. It was the look of a shared secret he was daring her to tell. Their night together had been incredible but it absolutely would not happen again.

Sophie watched as his long strides carried him toward the bank of stalls that housed some of the top quarter horses in the state. Clay’s limp was evident. The horses welcomed him with soft knickers; they watched Clay pass by with large brown eyes, their ears alert. The road to recovery had been long and she had to admire his tenacity, his determination to regain 100 percent dexterity. He had amazed the doctors whose predictions for his future were not so bright. She had firsthand knowledge of just how physically fit the man was, which was why his coming with her made her nervous. In the weeks after their night together, Sophie had used the increasingly busy days in the office as an excuse to prevent any mention of that night they’d shared. If Clay had picked up on what she was doing, he’d said nothing. He had never brought it up and neither had she. But this wasn’t the office. She owed it to him not to mention any business concerns and thereby allow him to escape the rat race for a few hours. But it also left her without the barrier to more personal conversation. She had no idea what she would say if he introduced mutual attraction into the conversation.

Today with the cooler temperatures, Hopper was full of spunk and ready for an adventure. Clay returned with his choice of mount, a large chestnut gelding. When both horses were saddled and ready to go, they rode toward the main gate that opened onto the eastern pasture.

It was an area much like where she’d grown up. The first time she’d saddled a horse and ridden out and away from the main homestead, she’d felt the stirring of homesickness for the first time in over a year. During her time off, she sat in the small house she was renting on the edge of town and wondered if she could ever dare to go home again.

Normally, Sophie rode toward the west, following an old cattle trail through the mesquite trees, passing by the mirror-still waters of the natural lakes found in that area. In the direction they were headed this time, the terrain was more rocky, the path steadily uphill.

“I thought I would check a fence as we go,” Clay told her. “The ranch hands keep repairing it only to have the wires go down again within a few days. Something’s going on that isn’t normal. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’ve never ventured into that section of your ranch.”

“The terrain is considerably more difficult to cross but once you reach the top, the view is amazing. It’s one of the reasons I bought this ranch.”

They rode for a while in silence. Then he said, “Tell me how you came to be such a proficient rider. Where did you learn your basic horsemanship?”

“At home,” she replied hesitantly. “My dad has a small dairy. We always had a horse or two around. My brother and I grew up riding every chance we got. Mom and Dad both love to ride. I guess I inherited it from them. There are not many things I’d rather be doing.”

She saw his lips purse as though he was hiding a grin. “I agree. There’s nothing like a good ride.”

“I wasn’t talking about bull riding.”

“Neither was I.” Clay leaned down from his mount and opened another gate. He waited while she rode through then closed it behind them. Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her head at his try at an off-color remark.

“How about you?” she asked. “Were you raised with horses, cattle and such?”

It seemed silly to ask the question of a man with his history but while she knew and certainly appreciated his abilities as a cowboy in the arena, she knew little about his childhood. Before moving his office from a downtown high-rise to the ranch, they hadn’t really had the opportunity to talk as they did now.

“Yep.” A slow grin lit his eyes. “I was put in a saddle when I was still wearing diapers. Being a cowboy was all I ever wanted to do until I hit my teens and discovered the opposite sex.”

“You were sure good at it.”

“I had my moments.” He glanced over at her, the lights in his eyes dancing wickedly. “I was a pretty fair cowboy, too.”

Sophie groaned and shook her head. She’d walked right into that one. But the quiet laugh from Clay made it worth it. Since the accident he never laughed, rarely smiled.

“In the years we’ve worked together, I don’t think you’ve told me anything about your life. Now I know you grew up on a farm. Tell me more.”

The question about her past was not expected and Sophie felt tension run rampant.

She hoped he would let the subject drop. Unknowingly he was causing her to remember the horror that had propelled her to run from her home and travel as far away as she could go. Not that those memories ever left, but packed down in the back of her mind they were easier to contend with. No one knew her here. No one had any reason to know her past. And she preferred to keep it that way.

“There’s nothing much to tell. Typical small town. Friday-night football games. Blue-plate special every Wednesday at the only café in town. It rotated between stew and chicken-fried steak. Totally boring.”

“What brought you to Texas?”

And that was the question.

She shrugged. “No special reason. Just wanted to live someplace new.”

Clay opened his mouth to say something else then thought better of it. Sophie let out a silent sigh of relief. She hadn’t been prepared for his question. Next time she would be.

The small sandy trail looped through the trees as they made their way to gradually higher terrain. As they rode along, the trees grew taller and the thick stands of oak were overshadowed by tall, majestic pines. At one point Clay stopped and pointed back in the direction they had just come. The view was phenomenal. Amid the distant pine trees, she spotted the core of the ranch; a large clearing marked the house and separate barn areas. In the distance, horses and cattle grazed on the thick oat grasses.

“The stretch of fence is just over here,” Clay offered, nodding his head in that direction.

Sophie followed him over another small rise and dismounted when Clay did. Sure enough a couple of the cables in the fence had come loose. One was lying on the ground. Without another word, Clay set out to mend the fence. It struck Sophie as odd watching Clayton Everett do menial labor. But then what else would she have expected from him? First and foremost he was a cowboy. He would always be a cowboy at heart. And a cowboy mended fences. She could only hope he didn’t do any further damage to the ligaments and sinews in his body. She bit her lip to keep from saying something to him about it. She had to stop being his mother and let go of the constant worry. Yes, he’d been through hell and back. But he was better.

Looking around her, she spotted the blue of a small body of water in the distance, just below them to the left. “I’m going over to the lake,” Sophie told Clay.

“Good. I’ll meet you there when I finish here. Stay on this side of it. The shoreline on the far side is very unstable.”

“Will do.” Sophie mounted her Tobiano gelding and headed back down the trail. Within minutes she reached the clearing that opened up to the water. It was something out of a postcard: shimmering blue waters circled by red rocks with green sage grass filling in the distance between the rocks and the forest. She dismounted, leaving Hopper to graze while she scrambled to sit on a huge boulder overlooking the lake.

Something in the water caught her eye. She looked harder and realized she was watching a small school of fish. They were feeding on something just below in the shade of the boulder. She wished she had a scrap of bread or corn to toss down and see if they would eat it. Maybe if she and Clay ever came back to this spot, she would remember to bring something.

She realized what she’d just been thinking. She’d imagined them coming back together. This was a rare opportunity to go riding with Clay and share the beauty of the ranch. She might return here someday but she very much doubted if Clay would come with her.