Texan For The Taking. Charlene Sands
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Of course he had to be here.
Mason Boone.
Drea MacDonald had avoided him all these years, but there was no hope for it now. She had to deal with him on a strictly professional level. She liked to think she’d moved beyond what had happened, had moved way beyond him, but how could that be? Something that profound in her life, something that had scarred her so permanently, wasn’t easily forgotten.
Mason pressed his tall frame against the back wall of the hospital conference room, arms folded, watching her through intense coal-black eyes. She couldn’t ignore him. He was a presence in the room; a tall, dreadfully handsome man, dressed impeccably in a dark suit, who commanded respect and exuded confidence.
As a young girl, all those traits had lured her in. But he’d rejected her without a second thought.
Her best bet would be to treat him with indifference, to give him a nod and get on with her business. He didn’t have to know the pain he’d caused her. He didn’t have to see the hurt look in her eyes or the flush of her skin. It would take an award-winning performance, but she was up to the task. After all, she’d imagined this moment in her head fifty times, if not more.
Her heart sat heavy in her chest because she wasn’t the only one who had lost something precious. She wasn’t the only one who’d been deeply scarred. Mason had, too. He’d lost his wife and unborn child nearly two years ago. His loss and grief only contributed to the tremendous guilt she felt for disliking him so. He had the town’s support. Everyone was sympathetic to his loss. It was hard to hate a guy everyone else rallied around. Guilt ate away at her even though she had every right to hold a grudge.
She stood at the head of the conference table, just finishing up her presentation. “And thanks to the generosity of Mason Boone and his family,” she said, grinding her teeth as she gave him praise, “we’ll hold our multifaceted weekend fund-raiser at Rising Springs Ranch. Our goal, two million dollars.”
The doctors, hospital administrators and committee members overseeing the fund-raiser gazed at each other, raising skeptical brows. It was a tall order, true, but she had always banked her reputation on fulfilling her goals. And this part of Texas was rich with donors of cold hard cash.
“It’s doable,” said an assured voice from the back of the room.
All heads swiveled to Mason Boone. His family had founded the Texas town of Boone Springs decades ago, and the hospital had recently changed names from County Memorial to Boone County Memorial. The Boone family and their kin practically owned the entire town. Well, they owned the best parts, so when a Boone spoke, people listened.
“It’s very doable, if we’re smart,” Drea persisted, again avoiding Mason’s dark eyes. “And I intend to be...very smart.”
“Thatta girl,” gray-haired Dr. Keystone said. “We trust you, Andrea. You’re one of our own.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your support. Together, we’ll make this work.”
She smiled, feeling powerful in her black suit and three-inch cherry-red heels. She wore her long, dark cocoa hair up in a sleek, practical style. She meant business.
Landing this job at the hospital served many purposes. Nailing it would all but guarantee her promotion to vice president at Solutions Inc., the consulting and events planning firm she worked for in New York. But more importantly, she wanted to help the community where she’d grown up by raising funds for a much-needed cardiac wing, to honor her mother, who’d died of heart failure. And she also wanted to reconnect with her ailing father. Unfortunately, that meant living in the cottage the Boones had gifted Drew MacDonald after practically stealing Thundering Hills Ranch out from under him. Her father’s acceptance of the living arrangements irritated her to this day. How could he be okay with their charity, while Drea’s life had been snatched right out from under her as a young girl when the Boones took over Thundering Hills? She’d lost her home, too, but her father hadn’t seemed to notice how much that had disrupted her life.
After the meeting, as Drea collected her papers, carefully placing them in her briefcase, she heard footsteps approaching and held her breath.
“Nice job, Drea.”
That deep confident voice unsettled her. The timbre, the tone, the way Mason said her name—memories came rushing back, tilting her world upside down. God. Why was he heading this committee? Deep in her belly, she knew. He’d lost his pregnant wife to heart disease. Drea couldn’t really fault him for wanting to be involved; she had similar reasons for being here. Yet, even knowing the pain he’d recently endured, seeing him in the flesh for the first time in years curdled her stomach. She resented the Boones, but him most of all.
Mason stood facing her, his eyes boring in, and finally, because she felt defiant and fearless, she stared back and gave him her best aloof smile. “Thank you.”
Twelve years had only given his good looks a more rugged edge. She took in the sharp angle of his jaw, the facial scruff that hadn’t been there before, the length of his hair, whipped back and shining like black ink. None of it mattered. She was merely observing. She’d turned off all her buttons, leaving him none to push anymore.
“You look good,” he said.
The compliment slid off her back.
“Drew will be glad to have you home.”
“It’s temporary,” she said, closing the clasp on her briefcase.
“Still, it’ll be good for him.”
She looked away. What about what was good for her? What about all those days and nights when she’d had to be the adult because her father was passed out drunk on the floor? What about the dinners he’d never cooked, the clothes he’d never washed? What about a twelve-year-old kid having to baby her own father? And what about the heartsick motherless girl who’d desperately needed...love?
“We’ll see.”
“You haven’t been home yet?”
She shook her head. “No, I came here straight from the airport.”
“Drea?”
She couldn’t look at him, even though there was something pleading in the way he’d said her name. Instead, she continued fiddling with the closure on her case.
“It’s good to have you home,” he said finally.
Chin down, she nodded. “I have a job to do.”
“Yeah, about that. We should probably coordinate on the events you have planned. We could look at them over dinner one night or—”
“No.” Her voice was sharper than she’d intended. So much for being professional. He was staring at her like she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had, thinking she could come home in hopes of doing something good for the community, something to honor her deceased mother, even if it meant working alongside Mason. Were her emotions so tangled up that she couldn’t separate her professional life from her private one?
Goodness, but she had to. She’d committed to this fund-raising campaign. She was being paid to see it through. And she had to remind herself over and over that she was doing this to honor her mother. It was time she came home. At least temporarily.
“No?” Mason narrowed his eyes.
“I mean, I’ll email you. I really am very busy, Mason. I have a lot on my mind today.”
She gave him a plastic smile, one he immediately picked up on as bullshit. He nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” His mouth curled in a frown and there was an edge of annoyance in his voice now. Ha! He had no right being annoyed with her. Not when the last time she’d been with him, he’d treated her like dirt.
He slipped a business card into her hand, his long lean fingers