The Tycoon (35 page)

The article continued with some short paragraphs recounting the building’s history. The bank building had been vacant and for sale for years even before the storm’s destruction and many potential buyers had come and gone.

The need for a something to be done about it became more urgent after the thirty stories of concrete and steel had been irreparably damaged by the tornado. No one had known what to do with it. Most of the windows had been blown out and uncountable plywood patches had been slapped over the gaping maws. Not only were they ugly, they were nowhere close to being

waterproof and the building had deteriorated even faster.

Because of the asbestos used in the original construction, the thing couldn’t even be torn down. The estimates for doing nothing more than removing the asbestos to the EPA’s satisfaction came to a huge amount of money. More handwringing by city officials. They had even offered generous incentives to anyone who would present a plan to deal with it, but had no takers. Everyone was afraid of it.

Then, from out of nowhere, Drake Lockhart, young real estate broker, developer and speculator—an upstart unheard of by most Metroplex movers and shakers—had bought the bank building from an East Coast holding company for pennies on the dollar and presented an attractive plan for its future to the city council. Every professional journal in Texas had published commentary on what would finally become of the “old Millennium “albatross” and its young new owner who apparently had more money than brains and experience.

“He was undaunted by the ridicule of the naysayers,” the article said.

Undaunted.
A word that suited what little Shannon knew of Drake.

After removing the asbestos and modernizing the building, he had turned the bottom floor and a mezzanine into a mall of boutique retail shops and trendy restaurants. The upper floors became luxury high-rise condominiums. He had spent a small fortune and he had plastered his name across all of it. In her mind’s eye, Shannon could see the name LOCKHART standing out in the daytime and highlighted by architectural lighting at night.

Currently, no one jeered about Lockhart Tower. It was one of the highlights of the Fort Worth cityscape, a sought-after home address. Every square foot of commercial space was leased and had a waiting list. Every residential unit had sold for an astonishing price.

The article continued to trumpet Drake’s accomplishment. In a good real estate market, he had done the difficult. In a market trending down, he had done the impossible. Fort Worth city leaders called him a hero. A true Texan with that old-fashioned Texas can-do spirit, a man who marched to his own drummer.

Shannon clicked a link to a short article in a real estate magazine. Value of the condos had nearly doubled since they first came on the market. The smallest unit in the building had resold a few months ago for more than half a million.

She sat back in her chair, reeling from the knowledge that he must have been younger than thirty when he bought the bank building. The realization of just how smart and daring Drake Lockhart was amazed her. But after more thought, that information wasn’t so stunning. She’d had a firsthand experience with how persuasive he could be when he wanted something. She, as much as anyone, should know he was someone who seized opportunity.

Now she was even more puzzled by why a man of his ilk would be attracted to her—ordinary, white bread Shannon Marie Piper. Other than being in the same business—sort of—what did they have in common?

She remembered the moment their eyes had connected at the TCCRA party. The arcane link between them, as if they had known each other forever and he was a magnetic force too powerful for her to resist. And how sexual arousal had been her first reaction to him. The fact that he was who he was had not been part of that.

And he had said he felt the same….
I knew it’d be good. The minute I saw you, I knew.

Well…that wasn’t exactly saying he felt the same, but she took it to be close enough.

Chapter 21

Shannon arrived at the restaurant promptly at six. Drake’s silver sports car was already parked in a far corner of the parking lot. She still didn’t know what kind of car it was.

She found a slot beside handicapped parking in front of the entrance.
No chance for hanky-panky in this spot,
she thought, as she scooted out of her Sorrento. She dragged out her briefcase and carried it in for show, just in case some Camdenite she knew might be inside.

Sure enough, the young hostess who greeted her was an acquaintance. “There’s this guy waiting for you,” she said. “He said y’all would be talking business. I put him in the back in a corner where it’s quiet.”

“Thanks, Stacy.” Shannon followed her, happy to see only a few diners.

Drake stood as she neared the table. He had on typical cowboy garb—butt-hugging jeans and boots, a long-sleeve button down shirt. Today, it was an absolutely lovely gold and pink and green plaid. After seeing the magazine spread, she had concluded that this style was his usual dress. She wondered if he chose his own clothes. At least he wasn’t a drugstore cowboy. At least he was connected to a real ranch. He could probably ride the horse he had been sitting astride in the
Fort Worth, Texas
magazine article.

Now that she could see him in a more ordinary environment, he seemed ordinary. Nothing like one would expect from a man who had done all that he had done and owned all that he owned. He held a chair for her, she sank onto it, slipped out of her coat and let it fall across the back of the chair.

Stacy came to take their order for drinks, but they both declined.
Stacy handed them the menus and hurried away.

“I went to high school with her oldest sister,” Shannon told Drake about Stacy. “So you see why I keep my nose clean in Camden?”

“I know how it goes,” he said, smiling in that almost-shy way he had. “I grew up in a small town, too, you know.”

One of the few things they had in common as far as she could tell. It struck her that they would have been teenagers at about the same time, but she didn’t mention it. Those years had been miserable for her.

Drake averted his attention to the menu. “So if this is a steakhouse, the steak must be good, huh?”

Shannon quickly scanned the menu. “Maybe. I’ve never eaten here.” She sat back and crossed her hands on her lap. “I’ll have the tortilla soup.”

Drake looked up at her. “In a steakhouse?”

She shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to eating light at night. My grandmother says she sleeps better if she doesn’t eat a big evening meal. She does most of the cooking, so I eat whatever she fixes. I think she’s right about that anyway.

Stacy returned and Drake ordered soup for both of them.

Shannon gave him a look. “You don’t have to eat soup just because I ordered it.”

“You’re not the only one who thinks your grandmother’s right.”

They sat in silence for a few beats. She had never felt so awkward. She could think of absolutely nothing to say.

“This is quieter than happy hour at that Mexican joint,” he said at last.

On an inner sigh, Shannon resigned herself to the fact that they were, after all, going to discuss that Saturday night after the TCCRA party. She ducked her chin and focused on straightening her napkin in her lap. “You’ve probably figured out that I took us there because I knew it’d be too noisy to talk. I was so surprised to see you and I knew you’d ask me questions I couldn’t answer. And I didn’t want to talk about that…that night.”

“I did figure it out. Eventually.”

She looked up. “There’s no point, right? We both know what happened. We got a little drunk and went off the deep end.”

“I wasn’t drunk. And you weren’t either.”

More awkward silence. When she didn’t reply, he said, “So, uh, how is it? Did you do a test or something?”

A flush of heat crawled up her neck. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with a man she barely knew. “I’m not that worried about it. I don’t need a test. My calendar’s good enough.”

“You sure?” he asked.

She slid furtive looks around, to see if anyone could hear them, was relieved to see the nearest diner three tables away. She nodded.

More silence. What he had said on the phone about the parking lot incident sailed into her thoughts….
If anything happens, we’ll take care of it....

S
he looked up to see him watching her. “Tuesday night. Has that happened to you before?
Have you gotten caught doing the wrong thing at the wrong time?”

His expression remained inscrutable. Finally he ducked his chin and rearranged his napkin. Obviously a subject he didn’t want to discuss. “Once. Some years ago.”

“How did you handle it?”

“It didn’t have to be handled. It was a false alarm. I told you before, I’m usually careful. I don’t have an excuse for Tuesday night.”

Stacy reappeared with their soup. Shannon waited until she placed their bowls and left before saying, “Can I ask you something?”

“Can I refuse to answer if I don’t like the question?” He smiled then. “Of course you can ask me something.”

“When you said if anything happened, we’d take care of it, did you mean you’d expect me to have an abortion?”

“No,” he answered sharply, giving her a frown. “Why would you think that?”

“I just assumed—”

“Don’t assume. My God, my family’s in the animal breeding business. If something needs to be aborted, Nature takes care of it.” He tucked into his soup.

So much for the abortion question. But if he wouldn’t want her to have an abortion if she got pregnant, what
would
he want? For that matter, what would
she
want? With the sex so hot and evidently irresistible for both of them, it was something to consider.

Setting the sticky topic aside, she tasted her soup. “Soup’s good.”

He put down his spoon and looked at her. “Shannon. It’s been a long time since I’ve met somebody I felt like telling I wanted her company more than anyone else’s. I don’t know what it means and I’m not trying to attach anything high-flying to it. I’d just like for us to spend some time and get to know each other….Not that I’m turning down the sex.…I mean, I’m only human.”

 He gave a little-boy smile and a soft laugh that she found so charming she almost couldn’t bear it. He returned to his soup. “You’re right,” he said. “This soup’s good.”

She released a sigh. “I have to say, Drake, you must know a lot of women who have more

to offer someone like you than I do. So why me?”

“Why not you? You’re interesting. Most of the women I meet, I figure out in ten minutes. You’re different. You keep surprising me. And I believe we’ve got more going for us than you know. Maybe even more than
I
know.”

She shook her head. “We live in two different worlds.”

The line between his brows deepened. “Okay, this is weird, but I’m going to say it anyway. First, I’m no saint. I won’t tell you I’ve never been involved in a one-time deal with a woman. But not in years. I’m trying to believe I’ve grown up.” He leaned forward. “But that night at the Worthington, something came over me. When I saw you, every other woman disappeared. I can’t explain it. All I knew was I had to have you.”

Shannon grimaced. “Well, you’re right. That’s weird.”

“C’mon. If you hadn’t felt something yourself, you wouldn’t have gone home with me and you wouldn’t have gone to bed with me. So I think something beyond both of us was influencing us.”

She might have had similar thoughts, but she had never let herself believe in the unbelievable. Now she was more nervous. She managed a little laugh. “I was hungry. And you have to admit, you were persistent. You didn’t exactly take no for an answer.”