The Billionaire's Colton Threat. Geri Krotow
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talk. He didn’t want to admit what was happening with Clyde Whiskey but he wouldn’t lie to Jeremy, either. “I’m having a major problem. Someone—an unknown—is trying to gobble up shares of Clyde Whiskey.”
“Hostile takeover?”
“More like apocalyptic takeover.” Alastair let out a growl of frustration. “It’s been insane since I got back from visiting you and Adeline.” And Halle. “It’s all I can do to shore up the business. I keep putting out fires that pop up elsewhere.”
“I’ve been there, man, more than once. You’ll get through this, and trust me, no one is going to take Clyde Whiskey from you. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Nothing, not yet. I have a team on it. I hope to have answers soon. The one weird thing is that it all started while I was in Texas.” As if someone hadn’t liked the thought of him investing in tech in the area.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to have bad luck while in Shadow Creek.”
“If you’re referring to the havoc caused by that woman Livia Colton, she’s dead. She’d have no reason to come after me if she were alive.”
“Sounds like you and Halle talked about more than indigenous history of Texas out on the trail.”
Alastair remained silent. He wasn’t going to share what had happened on the trail with Halle. It was too personal.
“I’m here if you need me, Alastair. So are your investment opportunities in Austin. And let me put it out there for you—our house in Shadow Creek is always open to you. Maybe time away from your home turf would help. Clear the mind.”
“Thanks, Jeremy.” As he disconnected he couldn’t ignore the tug in his gut at the mention of Shadow Creek. If he were to stay with anyone, he’d want to be with Halle. He grinned at the realization that he’d prefer the cozy ranch house at Bluewood over Jeremy’s spectacular contemporary mansion. In a rare moment of deep reflection he admitted that he hadn’t been himself, hadn’t felt grounded in Glasgow since he’d departed Austin. When he’d left Halle Ford and his adventure on Bluewood Ranch behind.
You haven’t left it behind.
Maybe it was time to return some calls.
* * *
Halle held her phone over her head as she lay on her back on the living room sofa. It was ringing, buzzing, breaking into the quiet zone she’d tried to establish for herself. Lying flat was the only thing that kept her from getting sick. The phone buzzed again and she peered from beneath the cold cloth she had on her forehead.
Alastair Buchanan. A jolt of awareness forced her into a seated position.
Dang. Hell. Crap.
“Halle here.”
“Is it a Texas custom to wait three months to return a call from a paramour?” Alastair’s rich Scottish brogue made tingles shoot straight to her center, as if they’d made love last night and not fourteen weeks ago. As if they were more than a one-night stand.
Yeah. As if.
“Halle?”
“I—I’m here. And any rudeness is on me. Just, just my bad manners. I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner. Thanks for returning my call.” Nausea rolled over her and she groaned as she lay back down, groping for the lost cold cloth.
“Are you all right, Halle? Have I caught you at a bad time—coming out of the shower, perhaps?” God bless the man, he was flirting. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. His playful tone was going to flatten out pronto. As soon as he found out why she’d called.
“Look, Alastair, this isn’t a fun call. I mean, not a social call—”
“It’s perfectly fine to admit you missed me. I was just thinking about you, remembering how your breasts feel in my hands.” Her body reacted so quickly she couldn’t keep up with it, from her nipples puckering to the tingles of want that ran down her midsection to between her legs.
“I’m pregnant. It’s yours. No doubt.”
Palpable silence blew the sexual tension into sharp shards of shock. Not one iota of static sounded to break the heavy quiet. There wasn’t much that could take away the physical pull Alastair had on her, but telling the billionaire bachelor that his fun had resulted in a lifetime commitment did. Halle sucked in a breath, hoping she didn’t puke while he was on the line.
“Well.” A whole lifetime in his one-word reply. Yeah, no more sexy talk.
“I’m sorry to tell you on the phone, but a trip to Glasgow isn’t practical for me at the moment.” Did he even know how difficult it could be for the average person to travel? Without a private jet at her disposal, not to mention the unlimited funds a billionaire like Alastair had.
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