The Tycoon

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Copyright © Jeffery McClanahan, 2012. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Acknowledgements

I would never have finished this book had it not been for my friend and critique partner, Laura Renken, who writes historical romances as Melody Thomas. Thank you for your support and patience, Laura.

Chapter 1

Bill Cody Arena, Amarillo, Texas

2005

Drake Lockhart was freezing his ass off. February was not the ideal month to visit Amarillo, Texas, or to sit in a cold arena watching one cutting horse performance after another. But because his younger half brother and My Peppy Girl, the cutting horse had had trained would be competing in the world finals later in the year, Drake had taken time out of a busy schedule to see Troy and his mare show their stuff. And besides that, his little brother looked up to him and had asked him to come. No way would he disappoint him by not being here.

Still, he was in no mood for frivolous undertakings today, even something he enjoyed as much as cutting horse shows. He had come to Amarillo to parley on leases for hundreds of electricity-producing wind turbines to be constructed on one of his family’s cotton farms between Amarillo and Lubbock. The long-term leases would add much needed cash now and for years to come to the coffers of the Double Bar L Cattle Company—better known in North Texas as the Double-Barrel Ranch. Negotiations had gone well and Drake expected firm commitments from a large electrical power supplier.

The second reason for his visit to Amarillo hadn’t gone so well. He had met with an engineering company, exploring investing his family’s money in a new-age green energy project—the manufacture and construction of wind turbines. Getting a deal together could be worth millions to the Lockhart family and jobs for the local area. Unexpectedly, an issue that defied common sense had confronted him. But he hadn’t given up. With the scent of money in his nostrils, he wouldn’t let one small setback that could be resolved kill a deal. He was nothing if not determined.

While he waited for an announcement of Troy and his horse’s names, Drake sat with one boot resting on the back of the seat in front of him, absorbing familiar pungent animal smells ever present in horse competitions. A pouty-mouthed blonde a few seats away caught his attention again with another come-hither smile. She had been sending signals ever since they had first made eye contact. She was something to look at. Tall as a tree. Hair the color of honey that fell like a waterfall all the way to her ass. Jeans that fit like a coat of paint stuffed into the knee-high shafts of a pair of fancy boots. Underneath a woolly vest, she wore a chest-hugging bright pink sweater. Any fool could see her game was men, not horses.

Just then, Troy’s name on the loud speaker caught Drake’s ear and he turned his attention back to the activity in the arena. Troy and his horse—a shiny bay, small for a quarter horse—calmly approached a herd of calves bunched in the arena’s business end. Drake recognized when the calf was selected. He leaned forward, watching intently as My Peppy Girl separated it from the herd, then wheeled right and left on powerful haunches, preventing its return.

Troy sat deep in the saddle, looking as relaxed as if he were in a rocking chair. He and the horse performed as if they were one unit. Troy
should
be a good rider. He had been horseback since he was eight years old and he had an instinct about horses. The nearly flawless performance ended with a high score and Troy and My Peppy Girl still in the finals. Drake’s mood improved. A fine cutting horse in top form and a superior rider were a joy to behold and Troy had done a hell of a good job training his horse.

Drake found him with the mare at the stalls behind the arena. He raised a palm for a high-five. “Good job, Brother.”

“Hey, Drake.” Troy slapped his hand enthusiastically. “Girl’s in top shape. You saw us? I figured you wouldn’t come.”

Drake stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and scrunched his shoulders against the cold. “I wouldn’t miss my little brother’s performance as a champion. Girl looks great, kid.”

“We’re going again tomorrow in the finals,” he said, giving a thumbs up. “Listen Drake, I got an offer on Girl. Can we—”

Before he finished his question, a hot little brunette in tight jeans, pink boots and a thick coat appeared. “Oh, Troy,” she gushed. She grasped his forearm with both hands and made a little bounce on the balls of her feet. “That was so
amazing!”
She looked up at him with huge and adoring brown eyes. “You’re so wonderful.”

She cupped his neck with be-ringed fingers, pulled his head down for a sloppy kiss and Troy openly melted. Drake grinned. Even at twenty-one, his little brother had a reputation with women that equaled his standing as a horse trainer. And he also had a room at the Holiday Inn just minutes away. No doubt the kid was in for a rollicking good time tonight. And why not? He was smart, good-looking, able-bodied and hard-working. He had earned a good time.

“I’ll catch you later, Troy,” Drake told him. “I’m going home early tomorrow, so I’ll miss your ride in the finals. But I’ll be pulling for you. When you get back to Drinkwell, we’ll get together and talk about your horse.” He liked that Troy valued his opinion.

“Right,” Troy replied, now more interested in the girl hanging all over him than the potential sale of his mare.

Drake, too, had a room at the Holiday Inn and no one to share it with. Having no steady female companion at the moment, he hadn’t indulged his primal urges in weeks. He bee lined for the willowy blonde.

Minutes later, he knew the blonde was no cowgirl. Nor was she a horse owner or trainer. She barely knew one end of the animal from the other. Her name was Gretchen Something from somewhere in Sweden. While her politician father schmoozed in Washington, she had come to Texas to visit a friend, who had brought her to the cutting horse show to meet big, rich cowboys.

Drake met those criteria on both fronts.

A short time later, he had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in a brown paper sack and he and Gretchen were on the way to his room. Apparently, she liked cutting to the chase. So did he. Subtlety and all of that let’s-get-acquainted bullshit were a waste of time. And if there was anything Drake had not nearly enough of, it was time.

He had no sooner shut the hotel room door, locked it and bolted it before she had backed him against the door, unzipped his jeans and slid her long fingers into his shorts. “Oohh, you are very big,” she said, breathless and smiling as she stroked the tip of him with her fingertips.

His hard-on turned to blue steel. He gave a low groan.

“And you are very hot,” she said breathily.

“You’re not kidding,” he said huskily, pushing away from the door and yanking off his coat.

A few minutes later, he had rid her of her boots, jeans, that woolly vest and tight sweater, which left her wearing only a pink lacy bra and a tiny pink thong.

As he unbuttoned his cuffs, she quickly disposed of the wisps of underwear. Without inhibition, she struck a pose and let him drink in her nearly perfect body. He almost drooled. She was tanned to golden all over and waxed in strategic places. Why women did that to themselves he didn’t know. It had to hurt. “Awesome,” he muttered.

He hadn’t finished unbuttoning his shirt before she was on him like a hungry tigress,

pushing her tongue into his mouth, sliding her hands inside his shorts. As he sucked her tongue, he urged her backward toward the king-size bed. Together they fell onto the mattress, landing with a bounce. She kissed like a vacuum cleaner and evidently didn’t intend to stop with his mouth. She rose to her knees and straddled him, then licked and nipped her way south.

Just then, his cell phone warbled from the bedside table. He turned his head and stared at it, as if a stern look could cause him to divine the caller’s name. He had too much going on back in Fort Worth to ignore it. “Shit. I’ve got to get that.”

He leaned to his side, propped himself on his elbow and reached for the phone. Caller ID said
Kate
. His baby sister.

Gretchen Something crawled off him, stretched out behind him and pressed her hot tits against his back. She reached around him and played with the hair on his belly.