At The Playboy's Command. Robyn Grady
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left moments ago.
“Daniel Warren! Seems I’m stumbling into everyone here today. Chad, you remember Mr. Warren from the club.”
Tremain fairly snarled. “Yes, I remember Mr. Warren.”
Again Chad Tremain didn’t extend his hand. This time neither did Daniel. Then a shadow crossed Tremain’s face and Daniel could barely contain a grin. He wouldn’t do it to Elizabeth, but he longed to confirm what was rattling around in Tremain’s suspicious mind. Yep, she was here to see me, chum. Males of all species sensed competition at a hundred paces.
Not that Daniel was a long-term threat. He might not be flying home today but he would stay only as long as necessary. Elizabeth knew that as well as he knew her situation.
Daniel addressed Elizabeth in a formal tone. “Nice to see you again, Miss Milton.” He noted the glass and feigned a concerned look. “You’re not feeling well?”
“I was dizzy for a moment. I’m feeling much better now.”
“Can I escort you anywhere?”
“No need, Warren,” Tremain cut in. “I can look after Elizabeth’s needs.”
Daniel sent Tremain a cold look and crooked grin. “Is that right?”
Tremain looked about ready to bare his teeth when Elizabeth shoved her half-empty glass at his chest.
“Would you refill this for me, please, Chad? I’m feeling flushed again.”
Tremain’s stony gaze gradually left Daniel’s to study Elizabeth’s innocent smile. He took the glass. “Certainly.”
Daniel waited until Tremain was out of earshot. “Awkward moment?”
Cutting a nervous glance around, Elizabeth tugged and straightened her jacket’s hem. In a hoarse whisper, she told him, “There’s no need for Chad to know what happened this morning.”
“I’d have no trouble informing him.”
Her eyes widened at his gravelly tone and she whispered again, sterner this time, “Don’t you dare stir up trouble.”
“On one condition.”
Striking a pose, she folded her arms. “Are you proposing blackmail?”
He wondered if he saw a touch of excitement light in her eyes.
“Nothing quite so dramatic. I’d like to visit the Milton Ranch again.”
She gaped at him for five full seconds before a smile flirted with one side of her mouth. “I’m sure Nita would love to accommodate you. I warn you, though. This time you’d better stay for dessert.”
“You can bet on it,” Daniel said.
“Can bet on what?”
Daniel flicked a glance to his left. Tremain was back. And while Daniel appreciated Elizabeth’s position with regard to privacy, he wasn’t about to hide behind corners like a kid. Elizabeth was woman enough for Tremain to hear at least part of the truth.
“I invited myself over to Milton Ranch for supper.”
Gaze firing, Tremain actually squared up. “Rather presumptuous of you, isn’t it, Warren?”
Daniel shrugged. “We Northerners are known for it.”
Chad’s shoulders went back at the same time Elizabeth stepped between them.
“Chad, did I mention I’m desperate to get those plastic flamingos off my lawn? Could we organize a donation today?”
Tremain’s glare slid away from Daniel, who hadn’t had this much fun since he’d whipped the butt of a college rival at tennis. It felt good to win.
Tremain addressed Elizabeth. “I can organize that for you, Elizabeth, although we’ll need to discuss an amount.”
“Do you have time to sit down now?” she asked.
Tremain eyed Daniel again before extending his arm for Elizabeth. But she either didn’t see the gesture or ignored it.
Daniel grinned to himself. Suck on that, Tremain.
Before moving off, she offered her hand to Daniel. “I’ll see you this evening.”
“Let’s say, seven?”
As their hands met and squeezed, a smile twinkled in her eyes. “Seven sounds just fine.”
Daniel was tempted to watch as she moved off, but to be on his way was probably wiser. He’d riled Tremain enough for one day. He asked the doorman to have his rental brought up and soon he arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Alighting from the vehicle, he surveyed the club’s grounds. Manicured gardens and lawn were set amid majestic sprawling plains dotted with small trees, which were bowed by prevailing southern winds. His attention veered toward the club building, grand, solid and appropriate … but also, to his taste, due for at least a good brushup.
Because of the sheer size of the state, its variations in weather and scattered patterns of settlement, Texas architecture enjoyed a diversity of styles. The clubhouse was a mixture of Victorian—red granite and timber exterior, sandstone and elaborate carved woodwork interior—and Spanish Colonial, an ancestor of the ranch-style house—thick stuccoed walls and small windows that invited in the breeze and kept out the heat. The structure conveyed a sense of strength. Endurance. And that was key.
So how to keep the heart of this club while promoting the new twenty-first-century feel Abigail and her supporters were after?
Daniel was wandering around a far corner of the building when he heard a hushed but intense conversation in progress. Male voices … the words “baby” and “blackmail.” Three men came into view, huddled together beneath a giant oak. Not wanting to intrude, he was pivoting away when one of the men glanced over then all three stopped to glare.
The nearest, a tall man with brown hair and hawkish hazel eyes, edged around to face him. “Can I help you?”
Daniel held up a friendly hand. “Just taking a stroll of the grounds. Admiring the club.” When their stares intensified, he added, “The name’s Daniel Warren.”
That same man’s eyes flashed. “Abigail’s star-chitect.”
And then it clicked and Daniel straightened his spine. “And you must be Bradford Price.”
This was the man who was running for presidency of the club and Abigail Langley’s nemesis. No wonder he was looking at Daniel as if he wanted to grab him by the collar and personally escort him off the grounds. And what was that about blackmail? Such murmurings didn’t bode well for a club whose motto was Leadership, Justice and Peace.
“I’m Abigail’s guest here, yes.” Daniel jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be on my way. Let you all get back to your conversation.”
As he rotated away, Daniel saw in Brad Price’s eyes that he wondered how much of the conversation the outsider had heard. Enough to be suspicious, that’s how much. But not enough to want to dig any further. Seemed there was a whole lot more going on in Royal than an unprecedented election.
As she and Chad took a seat in a private corner of the hotel, Elizabeth got straight to business and mentioned the amount she was more than comfortable with donating to the Helping Hands Shelter in exchange for having the flamingos removed.
Sitting back, Chad slowly shook his head. “You don’t need to donate that much.”
She frowned. “It’s a wonderful cause.” One of the best, to Elizabeth’s mind. Although she kept it quiet, she’d been helping out individual families for a while now. “That women’s shelter has helped a lot of people in need, children included. It offers a wonderful service for the community.”
“No doubt. And it’s great to have such a generous