Lone Star Millionaire (4 page)

They crossed the living room and waited in front of the elevator. Cal pushed the Down button.

“Cal?”

Both he and Sabrina turned toward the soft voice. Tracey Langtry stood in the shadows. She was a beautiful female version of her brother, or she had been at one time. The morning light was not kind, highlighting the lines on her face. Her lifestyle had not allowed her to age well, and she looked far older than her thirty-eight years.

Worn jeans hung on too-narrow hips.

“Cal, I need some money. I've used up my allowance.”

Cal didn't look at her. Instead, he stared impatiently at the closed elevator doors as if willing them to open. “Who is he this time?”

“Oh, he's lovely. A race car driver. Very good, very young.” She giggled. “Very nice in bed. I—” She hiccupped, then covered her mouth. “I like him a lot.”

Sabrina realized the other woman was drunk, and it was barely ten in the morning. She considered herself fairly sophisticated, but this was too much. She took a step away from Tracey and toward Cal.

“There's a race and he needs the entry fee. Plus, traveling around gets so expensive. Please, Cal, just ten or twenty thousand. You won't even miss it.”

He didn't answer. The elevator doors opened and he guided Sabrina inside, followed her and pushed the Down button. As the door closed, he didn't bother saying goodbye.

They reached street level and walked toward the limousine. Sabrina didn't think the silence between them was especially awkward, but she felt obligated to think of something to say. Something to tell Cal that she didn't judge him by his family. But she couldn't find any words. Not without making a difficult situation worse.

After they were settled in the car and he'd given the driver instructions to return them to their hotel, he finally looked at her. Something dark and painful lurked in his eyes.

“When I was a kid, I used to pretend that I'd been left on the doorstep by Gypsies and that one day they would come back to get me. At this point I would be grateful just to have been adopted. I'm not happy to have that gene pool floating around in my body. I could turn into one of them at any moment.”

“If it was going to happen, it would have happened already. You're safe.”

“You think so?” He turned toward the window. “I'm not so sure.”

“Cal, you're a good man. If you were like them, you wouldn't care about your daughter. You would have let her go into foster homes or arranged boarding school. You're making an effort. That counts.”

She wanted to tell him that she admired him. When she thought about all he'd been through as a child, of the horrible life he'd had, she was amazed that he'd turned out as well as he had. It was a testament to his character. Sometimes she forgot there was a real person behind the handsome playboy facade, then something like this came along and reminded her.

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he continued. “But I'm not sorry you were there. Lord only knows what I would have done to that woman if I'd been alone.”

She wasn't sure if he was talking about his mother or Tracey, and realized he probably meant both of them. She didn't doubt that in a couple of days he would tell her to send his sister a
check. Maybe not for the amount she'd requested, but for enough to tide her over until her next trust fund payment.

“Every family has dirty laundry. You'd be shocked if you knew some of my secrets.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Yeah, right. You have secrets? What? That you went to bed without flossing twice all of last year?”

She glared at him. “They're more interesting than that.”

“I doubt it. You are not the kind of woman who has deep, dark secrets. Don't worry, Sabrina, I'm not complaining. Far from it.”

Before she could protest that she could be bad, too, if she wanted, he did the most extraordinary thing. He reached out and took her hand in his.

Sabrina blinked twice, then stared at their linked fingers. She and Cal often touched. A light brush of his arm against hers when they walked together. A teasing poke in her side if he thought she was being too stuffy. He'd hugged her a half dozen times or so over the course of their working relationship. But those had all been impersonal buddy-type contacts. This was personal.

She felt his heat and strength. His long fingers and broad palm dwarfed her hand, leaving her feeling incredibly feminine. A strange lethargy stole over her, and it was only when her chest started to get tight that she realized she'd stopped breathing.

She forced herself to draw in a deep breath, then release it. This wasn't happening. She glanced down and saw that it was. He was actually holding her hand. Then, as if he'd read her mind and realized what he was doing, he squeezed once and released her.

Sabrina sat next to him, feeling as if she'd just survived a force three tornado. Her entire body felt buffeted. Every cell was on alert, her skin tingled where it had been in contact with his, and if she allowed herself to notice, she would have to confess to a definite hint of dampness on her panties.

Danger! a voice in her head screamed. Danger! Danger! Do not do this to yourself!

She straightened and gave the voice her full attention. Every word was true. Cal Langtry was deadly to women everywhere. He was only ever interested in the chase. Once he'd caught his chosen prey, he lost interest and ended the relationship. She'd seen it happen countless times. Besides, they had a perfectly wonderful working relationship. She adored her job, she was well paid, and she wasn't a fool. Not only would she jeopardize everything if she started thinking of Cal as a man instead of her employer, she would be wishing after the moon. After all, she wasn't his type.

As painful as it was, she forced herself to remember a phone call she'd overheard nearly six years before. She'd been working for Cal all of two or three months and had been fighting a serious crush. It had been late and she'd entered his office unannounced.

He had his back to the door and didn't notice her in the shadows. She still didn't know who he'd been talking to and she didn't want to know. What she recalled most was that he'd been talking about her.

“Yes, my new assistant is working out great. I'm impressed with her.” He'd paused to listen. “I did say ‘her.' Sabrina is very much a woman.”

She thought about how her heart had leapt in her chest and her knees had grown weak. Was it possible he'd been attracted to her, too?

“No, you've got it all wrong. She's perfect for me. She's bright and too good for me to ever want to let her go. She's attractive enough so that no one is going to think she's a dog, but not pretty enough to interest me. It's great. No matter how closely we work together, Sabrina Innis will never be more than office equipment to me.”

The words had laid her soul bare. She'd crept out silently
and spent the rest of the night crying away her foolish dreams. In the cold light of dawn, she'd made a decision. She could continue to want what she could never have, or she could make the best of what was a wonderful job. With Cal she would make enough money to put her three siblings through college and provide for Gram. She would also be able to build a nest egg for herself. The position of Cal's assistant meant travel, all of which would be first class, a chance to meet interesting people and gain experiences she would never have otherwise. Did it matter that she didn't turn the man on?

In the end, common sense had won out over ego. She'd ruthlessly suppressed every hint of her crush until her wayward emotions fell into line. Now she could look at Cal and see him for the handsome bachelor he was without feeling anything but friendship. She'd bought gifts for his women and had made arrangements for romantic weekends away all without a twinge of jealousy or regret. So what had just happened?

Sabrina thought about all that had occurred in the past twenty-four hours. It must be the tension, she told herself. She hadn't slept much the previous night. Dealing with Cal's family was difficult for both of them. He'd reached out for comfort and she'd happened to be the closest person. She'd reacted because he was a good-looking man and she'd been living like a nun. Wayward hormones and close proximity. Nothing else. She didn't have any romantic feelings for the man. How could she? She knew the worst about him. She still liked him, but she sure wasn't fooled by his charming personality. Cal Langtry might be an incredible catch, but he had flaws, just like everyone else.

The limo pulled up in front of the hotel. She looked over at her boss. “What do you want to do?”

“There's no point in staying here. Let's change the flights and go to Ohio this afternoon. I'll call Jack and have him notify the aunt. If I can, I want to get my daughter as soon as possible.”

T
he town was a three-hour drive from the airport. Cal slowed at the intersection. There were only two other cars in sight and both of them were at least ten years old. Although he'd traveled to many unusual places, he'd always lived in large cities—Houston, Dallas, New York for a short time. In the back of his mind, he'd wondered what it would be like to live in a place where everyone knew everyone else.

“Follow this street about a mile,” Sabrina said, consulting the handwritten directions Jack, his attorney, had provided them. “Then turn right. Oster Street. There should be a stop sign.”

There were small business on both sides of what was obviously the main road. A diner, a barber shop, a closed five-and-dime. He was about to say it didn't look as bad as Jack had made it out to be when he noticed the peeling paint on most of the buildings. Some of the windows were boarded up. The farther he drove into town and away from the highway, the more run-down everything seemed.

He turned right where Sabrina indicated. Commercial and retail areas gave way to houses. He saw a lot of broken or missing fences, cars up on blocks. Side yards contained clotheslines with drying garments flapping in the brisk breeze. Porches sagged, yards were overgrown with weeds. They passed a block with five houses for sale, four of which had signs proclaiming the price had been reduced.

“This place is dying,” he said.

“I know. It's sad. Jack said the main factory closed and there's no employment. A lot of people have already gone, and those who stayed are having trouble earning an income. In a couple of years, there won't be anything left.”

Their rental car was a plain General Motors four-door sedan, nothing fancy. But it was relatively new and seemed out of place on the narrow street. “I'm glad we didn't take a limo.”

“I agree. Turn right at the stop sign.” Sabrina rolled down her window and took a breath. “I feel badly for these people. You can smell the poverty.” She shivered. “What's that saying? ‘Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.' I don't want to go back.”

Cal frowned. “You told me that you grew up without a lot of money, but things were never this desperate, were they?”

“Not really. We didn't have extra spending money, but we got by. After my folks died and we moved in with my grandmother, we had a few months that were pretty difficult, before the social security kicked in. Then it wasn't so bad. Besides, Gram was a hoot to live with. I remember her standing at the stove fixing macaroni and cheese. We had it about three times a week because it was cheap and all us kids liked it. Anyway, she would stir in that orange powder stuff, look at me and say, ‘Sabrina Innis, being poor sucks. You make sure you do better.'” Sabrina laughed. “She was wonderful.”

“Yeah.” He thought about his half dozen meetings with Sabrina's grandmother. The feisty old lady was opinionated, but charming as hell. “Why don't we have her out to visit soon?”

“I'd like that. Thanks. But we're going to have to wait. She's planning a summer trip to Alaska. I know she's going on a ten-day cruise, and after that, she and her friends are taking the train through the state.”

Cal knew exactly who was paying for Gram's vacation. “You're generous with her.”

“She was good to me and I love her. I want her to be happy.”

“You also listened to her statement that being poor sucked. Is that why you took the job with me?”

When Sabrina had graduated from UCLA, she'd had four serious job offers with Fortune 500 companies. Cal had been recruiting for his firm as well, and when he'd first interviewed Sabrina, he'd realized she could be a great assistant for him. As the job didn't come with room for advancement or a lot of corporate exposure, he'd sweetened the pot with promises of travel and a generous starting salary.

Sabrina chuckled. “Are you asking if I only want you for your money? Cal, it's not like you to be insecure.”

“I'm being serious.”

“Oh, serious. That's different.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Okay, the money was a large part of it. I wanted to help Gram out and I had three younger siblings heading for college. But that wasn't the only reason I took the job. I knew I would be giving up some things, but working for you offered the opportunity to travel, to learn about a major corporation from the top down. There was also the issue of moving to Houston. I was ready to be on my own, and getting out of Los Angeles made that possible.”

He had the oddest urge to ask her if she had any regrets. Regrets about not taking the other jobs. He told himself he was reading too much into her words. At times the job was difficult, but he knew Sabrina enjoyed her work. If she didn't, she would have moved on a long time ago.

“Were you heartbroken when you realized I wasn't a Texas cowboy?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Oddly enough, no. I already have to put up with you calling me ‘little lady' every couple of days. I don't need to add the smell of cow manure to the equation. You're a good ol' boy, Cal. That's plenty. Oh, this should be the street. The address is 2123. There it is, on the left.”

He parked their rental car and turned off the engine, but made no effort to get out. For a moment he could only stare at the small house.

The walkway was cracked and overgrown with weeds. Any grass had long since died. There were missing panes in the windows, and those remaining were too filthy to see through. The screen door hung on the top hinge only.

“This can't be right,” he muttered. “Jack said Anastasia's adoptive parents were middle class. Not rich, but nothing like this.”

“These aren't her parents,” Sabrina reminded him. “The woman she lives with is an aunt, maybe not even that closely related. Jack wasn't sure.”

“My daughter can't live here,” he said, then swore. “How could my parents have let this happen?”

“You're going to fix it. That's what matters, Cal. You came as soon as you found out about her.”

Her. My daughter.
The words were spoken, but they had no meaning. On the other side of that door was a child he'd never known about. A flesh-and-blood person with hopes, dreams and feelings. What was she going to say when she saw him?

He pushed away the question because he didn't have an answer, then got out of the car. Sabrina did the same and came around to his side.

He gave her a brief smile. “Thanks for coming with me. I would have hated to do this alone.”

“No problem. I'm happy to help.” For once she didn't tease and he was glad.

He studied her, the short, layered red hair, the familiar face, the concerned expression. She wore tailored khaki slacks and a cream blouse. As always she was sensible and in control. He admired those qualities in Sabrina, and right now, he was depending on them.

He nodded toward the house. “Let's go.”

He led the way to the front door and knocked. There was nearly a minute of silence that left Cal wondering if they had the wrong place or if no one was home. Then the door opened. A woman in her late fifties or early sixties stared up at him.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice throaty and her tone annoyed. “I ain't gonna buy anything, so don't bother trying to sell me whatever you've got.”

“Mrs. Sellis?” Cal inquired politely. “I'm Cal Langtry. I believe my attorney spoke to you on the phone. I'm here about my daughter.”

The woman was small, not much over five feet, and very thin. Her clothes were worn and stained. Gray streaks highlighted her short, dark hair. She looked Cal up and down, then grinned, exposing yellowed teeth and three empty spaces.

“So you decided you wanted the brat, did you? I can't figure out why, but you'll save me the trouble of filling out paperwork, so that's something. You'd best come in.”

She held open the screen door. Cal led the way inside. The living room was small and dark, with tattered drapes hanging over the dirty windows. Pizza cartons and empty potato chip bags littered the floor. The center of the sofa looked as if it had been hit by a bomb, with springs poking up through a large hole in the dark brown tweed fabric and bits of stuffing burping out onto the other cushions.

The woman shuffled to a rocking chair in front of a new television and sat down. The tray table next to her contained
a pack of cigarettes and an overflowing ashtray. She took a cigarette and lit it, then inhaled.

“You're early,” she said. “We wasn't expecting you until the end of the week.”

Cal glanced at Sabrina. Mrs. Sellis hadn't invited them to sit down, and neither of them made a move to settle on their own. For one thing, the couch looked filthy and uncomfortable. For another, he wanted to bolt.

“I finished my business more quickly than I expected,” he said. “Is Anastasia here?”

“Of course she's here. Where else would the girl be? She's twelve. I don't let her run around on her own. She might not be blood kin, but I've done good by her. She's had a place to stay and food to eat. There are some who wouldn't have been so kind.”

Sabrina touched his arm. He knew what she was trying to tell him—that this woman had probably done the best she could. Maybe it wasn't her fault she lived in such a poor house. Of course, she could have bothered with picking up the trash at least.

Mrs. Sellis took a deep puff on her cigarette and coughed. When she'd caught her breath, she yelled, “Anastasia, get your stuff and get on out here, girl.” She turned her attention back to Cal. “She'll be right along. Did you bring the check?”

Cal stared at her. “What check?”

“Figures.” She stubbed out the cigarette. “I'm not handing the girl over to the likes of you for free, you know. Her fool parents up and died without a penny to their names. Her daddy had just changed jobs, so there weren't any life insurance yet. I took the girl in because I'm family—” She frowned. “After a fact. They did adopt her. Well, I did the right thing and it's been nearly a year. I get a little something from social security, but it's not enough.”

Mrs. Sellis pushed herself to her feet. “She's nothing but
a trial, I don't mind telling you that. Sassy mouth on her, always talking back. She won't do her schoolwork. Grades falling, getting in trouble at school. She ran away a couple of times.” The woman glanced around her living room. “From here, if you can believe it.”

“Mrs. Sellis, the social security check would have adequately provided for Anastasia's needs,” Sabrina said quietly. “Mr. Langtry's attorney didn't mention that any reimbursement sum had been discussed.”

Cal recognized Sabrina's tactic instantly. They were going to play good cop, bad cop. He wanted to protest that he usually got to be the bad cop, but in this case, it was probably better that he come off as the good guy. After all, his daughter might be eavesdropping on the conversation.

Suddenly reminded of the girl's presence in the house, he glanced around the small room. To the left was a tiny kitchen with an even smaller eating area. To the right was a single door. It would lead to a hallway, he thought, or maybe just to the only bedroom in the house. Again he was stunned that his child had been living under these circumstances. If only he'd known sooner.

“You his wife?” the woman asked.

“No, Mr. Langtry's personal assistant.”

Mrs. Sellis cackled. “Is that what they call it these days. Oh, my. An assistant.”

Cal's temper flared. “Name your amount. I will be happy to write you a check. In return you'll sign a paper saying you never want to have anything to do with the girl again.”

“Well, that's the truth, I'll tell you. If I never see her again, it'll be too soon. That one's nothing but trouble.” Her dark eyes glittered. “Of course, she's your own flesh and blood and that should make a difference.”

The anger increased. He didn't like this woman. At first, he had felt some compassion for her circumstances, but
now he didn't give a damn. “I would like to see my daughter.”

“I know, I know. Anastasia, get out here, girl. I mean now!” She turned from the door. “What kind of a name is that, I ask you. Anastasia. Like she's someone important, instead of a skinny brat with a nose for trouble.”

The door opened. Cal stared, his heart pounding as he waited to catch his first glimpse of his daughter. Someone stepped into the room. A young preteen, caught in that awkward stage between childhood and physical maturity.

She was about five foot five or six, just a little shorter than Sabrina, with large dark eyes hidden behind glasses. Her hair hung to the middle of her back. He registered those facts before getting caught up in horror at how painfully thin she was. Her too-small, worn T-shirt clung to her, exposing her bony shoulders and rib cage. Her cheeks were sunken and her mouth pinched. Jeans hung off her hips.

There was dirt on her face and hands, and her hair was greasy. He couldn't tell if she was pretty or not. He couldn't do anything but stare in shock.

“What the hell have you been doing to her?” Cal demanded in a roar. “There are laws against this kind of neglect.”

The girl's eyes widened. “I'm not going to the state home,” she shrieked. “I'll run away and you'll never find me! I swear, I'll die first.”

She made a quick move as if to run out the door. Cal stepped forward to block her. “You're not going to the state home,” he said quickly. “I'm not from the government. I'm your father.”

He said the words without thinking, then the meaning sank in. Her father. This was his child. Not at all what he'd pictured, but no less his.

Sabrina felt as if she were caught up in a movie. Everyone was reacting to a script, but she didn't have a copy of today's
dialogue. She stared at the girl standing—shaking—in front of them and her heart went out to the child. What terrible pain had she endured in the past year? No wonder she'd been a discipline problem. From the looks of things, Mrs. Sellis wasn't overflowing with compassion and concern.