Romancing the Tycoon. Debra Webb
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in his expression changed and a new kind of fear crept up her spine. “Perhaps,” he suggested furiously, “that is part of the problem.”
“Daddy,” she wailed, suddenly sure of what he intended next, “you can’t seriously want me to marry a man I’ve never even met!” Even she wasn’t that impetuous.
Her father lifted one shaggy eyebrow in that condescending manner he’d always used with her when he actually wanted to turn her over his knee and spank her. But he never had, not once. “That’s precisely why we’re spending the weekend at his ranch. We’re going to get to know him and that is the end of the subject. If you wish to stay on my good side, you will do as I request.”
Do it or lose it, that was the bottom line. She could stay single and play all she wanted if she were willing to give up the fortune that, as the only Winterborne heir, she was fully entitled to. Or she could buckle under and marry some stranger who would probably boss her around just like her father did.
Wow, what a choice.
“I want you packed and ready to go in one hour,” he ordered. “I absolutely will not tolerate any grief either, young lady. You will behave yourself this weekend or you will be sorry. Is that clear?”
She stared directly into her father’s worried eyes. He loved her. She knew he did. In his mind he was only trying to save her from herself. She didn’t doubt for a moment his heart was in the right place, but that didn’t make her like it. Then there was the money to consider.
What good would her freedom be if she were perpetually broke?
“Yes, Daddy,” she said in the most obedient tone she could muster. “I’ll go pack.”
The telephone rang and her father hurried over to his desk to answer it. Regina peered out the window once more and tried to picture the bleakness of Texas. She despised long stretches of nothing. She was scared to death of horses. And she absolutely hated macho, arrogant men. How on earth was she supposed to survive on that stupid ranch even for a weekend?
The image of her birthright, billions of dollars, circling the proverbial drain and disappearing flashed in her mind’s eye. Okay, maybe she could survive it for just a little while.
“I’ll be right there,” she heard her father say, his tone urgent. She frowned. Where could he be going when they had to leave in just one hour? Before she could ask that very question, he skirted his desk and rushed over to her.
“The employees at one of the facilities have walked out, shutting down the whole operation. I’ve got to get over there and see if I can get this worked out. We can’t afford any bad publicity of any sort right now.”
In other words, her father didn’t want the cowboy to find out since it might give him pause.
“Of course,” she said, suddenly elated. This meant they didn’t have to go to Texas, which bought her a little more time to figure a way out of this. “I’m sure Mr. Calhoun will understand our postponing.” She resisted the urge to do a little end-zone victory dance. Hot dog! She was free for the weekend. Fireworks and all-night parties.
“Oh, no,” her father said, positively mortified at the very idea. “His private plane is already on its way to pick us up. You go on ahead of me. I’ll join the two of you as soon as I have this little misunderstanding worked out.” He gave her a pointed look. “Just don’t mention anything about it, all right, dear?”
Her hopes fizzled like a dud firecracker. “Fine,” she muttered. What else could she do? Her whole future depended on her cooperation. The way she saw it, the only choice she had was to try and figure out a way to send this cowboy running in another direction. If he chose not to marry her, then it certainly wouldn’t be her fault.
She smiled. Oh yeah, that could work. And her father wouldn’t be the wiser.
“OH, MY GOD,” Amy murmured as she stopped midway down the mile-long drive and admired the house that loomed before her. The Winterborne mansion was huge. Not just huge, she amended, palatial. That was it, she decided. It looked like an enormous castle with acres of magnificent gardens flanking it. The only thing missing was the moat.
Amy eased off the brake and rolled the rest of the way up the drive, past the elaborate fountain, choosing to park near the side of the grand house rather than up front. As she emerged from her car she noted that somehow her dilapidated old compact just wouldn’t look right at the bottom of those luxurious steps.
Suddenly conscious of her attire, she smoothed a hand over her travel-wrinkled slacks. She straightened her sleeveless sweater and squared her shoulders. She was a courier for the Colby Agency. She might not live in a mansion or drive a Rolls, but this was important business.
Amy marched up the steps and straight to the massive double doors. She pressed the doorbell and waited for a butler to answer. Surely in a house like this, the residents didn’t bother answering the door themselves.
The door suddenly swung inward and a young woman, maybe about Amy’s age, stared out at her, annoyance written all over her face. “Just a minute,” she barked into the cordless phone she clutched in her right hand. “What do you want?” she demanded of Amy.
Taken aback but determined to maintain her professionalism, she dredged up a smile. “Good afternoon, I’m Amy Wells from the Colby Agency. I believe Mr. Winterborne is expecting me.”
The woman looked her up and down disapprovingly. To Amy’s credit, she didn’t squirm. “He’s not here. He had to leave. I’ll tell him you came by.”
Wait a minute. That wasn’t going to work. Victoria had said that Mr. Winterborne needed this report right away. “Wait!” Amy cried before the door could slam in her face.
“What?” the woman snapped, obviously in a hurry to get back to whoever was on the other end of the telephone line.
Amy positioned herself in the doorway to prevent its closing. “I have to give this report to Mr. Winterborne. It’s very important.”
“Fine,” the woman relented. “Come in and you can call him at the plant.”
Amy stepped into the marble-floored entry hall and was awestruck all over again by the grandness of the home. The outside was beautiful but the inside was breathtaking.
The woman moved a few feet away to resume her call. “I can’t believe you’re even calling me like this,” she hissed.
Amy tried to focus on the details of the amazing entry hall rather than on the hushed words, but the intensity of the phone conversation prodded her natural curiosity.
“No,” the woman said sharply. “You walked out on me, Kevin. Left me here to deal with my father.”
Now Amy got the picture. The girl was apparently Mr. Winterborne’s daughter and the caller, or “cal-lee” as the case might be, was obviously her boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend.
“Vegas? What the hell are you doing in—?”
Silence echoed for about five seconds.
“How much?” This time her fury had dissolved into something like awe. The same kind of awe Amy had felt at seeing this place. “You won that much?”
Okay, Amy reasoned. Her boyfriend was in Vegas and had just won a lot of money and was calling to…make up? Amy grinned. She definitely had this investigating thing down to a science. She just had to find a way to get Victoria’s attention. Simply asking for the position wouldn’t be good enough. Amy wanted to bowl her employer over with some sort of amazing feat. That way she would just have to say yes! No wouldn’t even be a possibility.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” the woman said wistfully.
Amy’s heart went out to her. Was this guy trying to win her back? Did he deserve a second chance? Her gut instinct was that anytime a person had a chance at true love, he or she had better take it. It sure didn’t come along often.
“Okay,”