The Texan's One-Night Standoff. Charlene Sands
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anything, but I appreciate your gallantry.”
“Just call me Galahad.”
“I do.” She laughed before putting her teeth into the muffin.
He laughed, too, and was sorry he had to leave Ruby behind. She wasn’t like most females he’d met, and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to put up a fuss about saying goodbye.
He wasn’t entirely sure he liked that idea, but he had a new life waiting for him. His emotions were keyed up, and he was too damn confused to add a woman to the mix.
They drank coffee and chatted quietly about nothing in particular. And after they’d taken their last sips, Brooks rose from the bed and began packing his belongings. “Sorry, but I have to hit the road soon. I have an important meeting.”
Ruby rose from the bed and padded over to him. “Brooks,” she said.
“Hmm?”
She stood before him, her expression unreadable. “Don’t forget your shirt.”
Slowly she began undoing the buttons, her nimble fingers working one after another. Once done, she shrugged out of the shirt, and it fell easily to her feet. His gaze fastened on a beautiful body in red lace. “Ruby,” he said, sucking in oxygen and pulling her into his arms, her skin smooth and her muscles toned under his fingertips. “I wish I could postpone my meeting.”
“No problem.” Her eyes were soft and warm. He was never going to forget that particular deep cocoa color. Who was he kidding? He was never going to forget her. That was for damn sure. “I’ve got a busy day myself. I’ll take a shower. You’ll probably be gone by the time I get out.”
Like a fool, he nodded. That was the plan. He had to leave. Now.
He claimed her lips one last time, putting all of himself into that kiss. Then, mustering every ounce of his willpower, he turned away from her. But a thought struck, and he reached into his pocket to pull out a business card. “In case,” he said with a lift of his shoulder, “I don’t know, if you want to talk. Or need me or something.” He set the card on the bedside table.
By the time he turned back around, she had disappeared into the bathroom.
“Goodbye, Brooks,” she said just as the door was closing.
The lock clicked.
He closed his eyes. It was time to get on with the rest of his life.
Brooks pulled into the gates of Look Away Ranch, his gaze drawn to the size and scope of Beau Preston’s horse farm. The animals grazing freely in white-fenced meadowlands had a majestic presence. They were tall, their coats gleaming in browns and blacks and golds. Brooks didn’t know much about horses, but even an amateur could tell by looking at them that these stallions, mares and geldings were top-notch.
He smiled at the notion that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. If what he’d been told by Roman Slater, the PI he’d hired to find his biological father, was true, then Brooks’s drive to succeed above all else must’ve been in his blood. Because Look Away Ranch had all the makings of hard-earned success, much like his very own Newport Corporation.
He, Graham and Carson had worked their asses off for years in order to create one of the leading real estate and land development companies in the country. He was proud of what they’d accomplished, coming up the real estate ranks in Chicago and becoming genuine competitors of Sutton Winchester’s Elite Industries. Winchester was their biggest rival both professionally and privately. And Brooks had done his very best to take the ruthless older man down, more for personal reasons than professional.
For a time, Brooks had believed that the now ailing Sutton fathered him and his twin brother Graham. The knowledge only fueled his desire to destroy the man he believed abandoned his mother in her time of need, when she was pregnant. It turned out none of that was true. But paternity tests had revealed that his baby brother, Carson, was indeed Sutton Winchester’s biological child. Sutton and his late mother, Cynthia, had history together. She’d been his secretary once, and they’d had a love affair.
He hoped his true father, Beau, would fill in the rest of the blanks. After years of wondering and months now of tracking the man down, Brooks was ready to meet the man who’d fathered him.
He pulled up into the portico-covered drive that circled the stately ranch house and killed the engine. A man was waiting on the steps. Brooks’s first glimpse was of a tall rancher, his hair once blond and now dusted with silver, dressed in crisp jeans and a snap-down Western shirt. He immediately approached, marching down the steps, his gait extremely similar to his twin brother’s and probably Brooks’s as well. Warmth swamped his chest.
He was out of the car quickly, walking toward the man whose blood flowed through his veins. They came face-to-face, and Brooks took in the blue eyes, the firm jaw and the hint of a wicked smile bracing the man’s mouth. “Beau?”
Tears welled in the man’s eyes. His lips quivered and he nodded. “Yes, son. I’m Beau Preston. I’m your father.”
His father’s legs wobbled, and Brooks grabbed his shoulders to steady him. As emotion rocked him, Brooks’s own legs went numb, too. Then his father broke down, sobbing quietly and taking Brooks into his big, sturdy arms as he would a little boy. “Welcome, son. Welcome. I’ve been searching for you for a long time.”
A few seconds later, Beau backed away, wiping at his tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy, boy. Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Brooks said.
They walked shoulder to shoulder into the house.
“Forgive me for not showing you around just yet,” Beau said.
“I understand. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
But Brooks noticed things about the rooms he walked through, the sturdy, steady surroundings, dark wood floors polished to a mirror shine, bulky wood beams above and wide-paned windows letting the outside in. The wood tones were brightened by the red blooms of poinsettia plants placed in several of the rooms, and his nostrils filled with the holiday scent of pine.
His father led him into the great room, which contained a giant flat-screen television, a corner wet bar, and tan and black leather couches. He got the feeling this was his father’s comfort zone, the room he relaxed in after a long, grueling day. “Have a seat,” the older man said. “Can I offer you coffee or iced tea? Orange juice?”
Brooks had had morning coffee with Ruby. A slice of regret barreled through him that he’d never see her again. He sat down on a tan sofa. “No thanks. I’m fine.”
“You found the place okay?” His father took a seat facing him, his gaze latching onto Brooks and gleaming as bright as morning sunshine. All of Brooks’s apprehension over this meeting vanished. Beau was as glad they’d found each other as he was.
“Yep, didn’t have any trouble finding Look Away Ranch. It’s pretty amazing, I have to say.”
“What’s amazing is that you’re finally here. And look at you, boy. You’re the spitting image of me when I was your age.”
“There are two of us, you know. But Graham wanted to lay back and let me make the first contact with you. We didn’t want to overwhelm you and, well...we have questions. He thought it’d be easier for you and me to speak privately before he joins us, since I was the one hell-bent on finding you.”
His father rubbed at the back of his neck, a pained look entering his eyes. “I have to explain. I didn’t know about you boys in the beginning. I didn’t know your mama, Mary Jo, was carrying my babies when she ran away from Cool Springs. And once I started receiving anonymous notes and photos, I wasn’t sure any of it was true, but as the photos kept coming, I saw the resemblance. It was unmistakable,