Because Of The Ring. Stella Bagwell
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Antonio. It wasn’t exactly Cancun, but for now Claudia considered it as a first step on her quest to find the man who’d been plaguing her waking hours ever since she’d returned the opal to her finger.
From her third-floor hotel room, she stared down at the Paseo del Rio winding its way through the city. Eighty-degree weather was mild for early June in south Texas and Claudia wished she could enjoy it with a boat ride or a drink at one of the outside cafés on the river walk. She wished she could do anything besides meet with a man she’d never laid eyes on. Especially when she had no idea how to explain the reasons that had prompted her to make this search. But she hadn’t come to San Antonio on a pleasure trip and the sooner she got this job over with, the better she would feel.
Claudia found the office building in the old downtown part of the city a few blocks away from the famous Alamo. Mr. Hayden Bedford. He owned a roustabout company and from what she gathered from the plush complex of offices, a very profitable one. But then, most businesses that had anything to do with the oil field were money-makers. With the right man at the helm, she corrected herself.
Apparently Mr. Bedford knew his business. He just didn’t know Claudia Westfield. And from the tone of his secretary when Claudia had called to schedule a meeting, he didn’t want to know her. But somehow she’d managed to convince the older woman to give her an appointment anyway.
Now that the time was here, Claudia realized her mouth was dry and her heart was thud, thud, thudding at an unhealthy speed. Which was totally out of character. She wasn’t a nervous person. Until now. And the suspicious, almost dour looks Mr. Bedford’s secretary was throwing her way didn’t help matters.
Damn it, Gran. This ring of yours is ruining me!
“All right, Ms. Westfield. Mr. Bedford can see you now.”
Rising from her seat, Claudia brushed at the wrinkles in her skirt then headed toward a wooden door with a gold nameplate attached at eye level.
After knocking lightly, she stepped inside.
“Just a moment. I’ve got to get this damn light off my desk.”
The deep male voice was coming from a man standing at the window, his back to her. At the moment he was adjusting the blinds so that the glaring afternoon sun tilted toward the ceiling rather than at him and the massive oak desk.
Claudia stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to turn around. As the seconds ticked by she noticed he was dressed as a rancher rather than a businessman. Starched jeans. White tailored shirt, sleeves rolled back against his forearms. A dark leather belt studded with Texas lone stars. His dark wavy hair told her he was still young and his big, muscular body told her that he didn’t always sit behind a desk.
“There. That’s better,” he said, then turned to face her.
Claudia stared and wondered if she was going to faint. Her knees were turning to sponges and there was a faint buzzing in her ears.
“You!” she said weakly.
Baffled by her reaction, he stepped around the desk, all the while keeping a careful eye on her pale face. “I’m Hayden Bedford,” he introduced himself. “Are you Ms. Westfield?”
She nodded and attempted to lick her dry lips. “Yes. Yes, I am,” she said, then offered him her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I must look like a fool, but I…wasn’t expecting to recognize you.”
He took her hand in his, but rather than shake it, he simply held it firmly as his gaze scanned her face.
Hysteria rose up in Claudia as heat seemed to arc from his fingers to hers. Those were the same blue eyes, she thought frantically. The same square jaw and chin, the same hollow cheeks. Seeing her vision in the flesh was incredible—and terrifying.
“I think I should be the one to apologize,” he said. “Because I can’t say that I remember meeting you.”
Hearing his voice seemed to help her pull herself together. Hoping she appeared far more normal than she felt, she said, “You haven’t.”
The marginal widening of his eyes had her quickly adding, “I mean…I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before.”
“Are you feeling up to this interview, Ms. Westfield? You look a little pale.”
In fact, Hayden was fairly certain he’d seen dead people with more color in their cheeks. But in spite of her paleness, she was an attractive woman. A little plain to suit his taste, but then, she wasn’t here to supply him with female diversion, he reminded himself.
She was dressed in a white linen sheath and her light brown hair was pulled back at her nape and fastened with a white clasp. Her eyes were a soft brown and her skin was tanned. And suddenly he had the image of biting into a warm, golden marshmallow.
“I’m…I’ll be all right,” she replied. “And I’ll try not to take up too much of your time, Mr. Bedford. Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”
Still holding her hand, he cupped her elbow with his free hand and led her over to a leather chair that was angled toward the front of his desk.
“There now,” he said as she sank onto the cushion. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what it is you wanted to see me about. It’s pretty obvious you’re not here to contract a roustabout crew.”
She tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry it refused to work. “No. I don’t dabble in oil or gas wells, Mr. Bedford. I’m here because—I’m looking for a man.”
Surprise flickered across his face. Then folding his arms across his chest, he shot her an amused smile. “There aren’t any available men where you come from, Ms. Westfield?”
Claudia was so rattled it took her a moment to digest his meaning. When it did finally register, her spine stiffened to a prim line. Her chin jutted forward. “Fort Worth has plenty of men. I’m looking for one certain one.”
Still amused, he said, “Hmm. I’m intrigued that your search brought you here. I wasn’t aware that I’d made any bachelor lists.”
Somehow his arrogance angered her enough to get her shocked juices going again. Color blossomed in her face and her eyes darkened. “I’m not aware of it, either, Mr. Bedford,” she said in a clipped tone. “In fact, I know nothing about your marital status. I found you because of a number. Or maybe I should say, a number on a boat.”
A puzzled frown pulled his dark brows together and Claudia realized that, as the man in her vision, this man was by no means handsome, yet there was a rough masculinity about his craggy face and sinewy body that made his appearance totally unforgettable.
“I’ve got to admit I’ve had some odd encounters with women over the years. But I’ve never had one go to this length to meet me.”
She silently groaned with impatience. “I’m not here to meet you, Mr. Bedford!”
“You’re not here to hire roustabout services and you’re not here to meet me. If that’s the case, then it looks as though you’re taking up my valuable time, Ms. Westfield.”
She bolted to her feet. “And frankly, Mr. Bedford, your assumptions are downright insulting! For your information, I’m not on the prowl for a sugar daddy!”
He shot her a wry look. “I’m not old enough to be your sugar daddy.”
Claudia’s nostrils flared as she breathed deeply and tried to clamp a hold on her rising temper. Which in itself was a new task for her. She wasn’t a woman who let herself get angry about anything. Until now.
“I don’t care how old you are, mister!” She pushed the words through gritted teeth. “The only—and let me repeat—the only reason I’m here is because your name and address matches the number on the boat registration.”
Her outburst seemed to get through to him and his eyes narrowed as he studied her with new regard.