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THE TEXAS BILLIONAIRE’S BRIDE
Zane had just opened his mouth to ask if Melanie was set to leave when the women parted to reveal the nanny in the midst of them.
The words lodged in his chest, then began pumping like a conflicting heartbeat.
Her blonde hair was swept back into a graceful chignon, which complemented the slim lines of a short jacket and long cigarette skirt worthy of Jackie O. Her makeup was elegant, bringing out the breathtaking blue of her eyes and the lovely heart shape of her face.
She fitted the role of a princess and, for a taboo instant, he envisioned her on his arm at a charity event, shining like the brightest of stars.
Seconds must’ve passed. Maybe even minutes. And during each escalating heartbeat, he kept himself from saying something he would regret to this new woman, even if, under the makeup and clothing, she was still the same lady who’d hooked his attention that first day.
THE TEXAS BODYGUARD’S PROPOSAL
Impulsively, she held the apple out to Rafe and asked, “Would you like a bite?”
She expected some joke about Adam and Eve, or a retreat on his part. That’s what he usually did if she didn’t do it first.
But instead of retreating, he leaned forwards, clasped his hand under hers, and took a bite of the apple. The world stopped and then seemed to move in slow motion as Rafe chewed his bite of the apple, his gaze on hers the whole time. Her stomach somersaulted, and any coherent thought she possessed vanished. A breeze blew between them, awakening everything about the moment.
He reached for the apple, took it, then set it aside on the balcony ledge. “What do you want, Gabby?” he asked as if he really wanted to know.
Boldly she replied, “I want you to kiss me again.”
The Texas Billionaire’s Bride
by
Crystal Green
The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal
by
Karen Rose Smith
MILLS & BOON
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Available in September 2010
from Mills & Boon®
Special Moments™
The Texas Billionaire’s Bride
by Crystal Green
&
The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal
by Karen Rose Smith
Kids on the Doorstep
by Kimberly Van Meter
&
Cop on Loan
by Jeannie Watt
The Texan’s Tennessee Romance
by Gina Wilkins
&
The Rancher & the Reluctant Princess
by Christine Flynn
Loving the Right Brother
by Marie Ferrarella
A Weaver Baby
by Allison Leigh
A Small-Town Temptation
by Terry McLaughlin
A Not-So-Perfect Past
by Beth Andrews
The Texas Billionaire’s Bride
by
Crystal Green
CRYSTAL GREEN lives near Las Vegas, Nevada, where she writes for Mills & Boon® Special Edition and Blaze®. She loves to read, overanalyse movies, do yoga and write about her travels and obsessions on her website, www.crystal-green.com. There you can read about her trips on Route 66, as well as visits to Japan and Italy. She loves to hear from her readers by e-mail through the “Contact Crystal” feature.
To Gail Chasan, who reigns over these stories that have provided all of us with so much life, love and happiness.
Thank you, Gail!
Chapter One
The toughest tycoon in Texas.
That’s how Melanie Grandy’s prospective employer had been described, to one extent or another, in nearly every article she’d read on the Internet before her quick trip down here.
Thing was, those articles had also painted Zane Foley as a slightly mysterious man who didn’t talk about his personal life to the press, even if he led such a public existence otherwise.
But if anyone understood secrets, it was Melanie.
Sitting at one end of a long mahogany table, she watched the head of Foley Industries saunter over the hardwood living room floor of his luxurious Dallas townhouse while he flipped through her personal portfolio, which showed her creative side.
Lordy, it was hard to keep her eyes off of him, although she knew she should.
Yet…
Well, she couldn’t help but notice the details. His dark hair was obviously cut at a pricey salon, but in spite of its neatness, some of the ends flipped up ever so slightly near his nape. It made her suspect that he hadn’t caught the deviation, and as soon as he did, those ends would be right back in place.
He was also very tall, with broad shoulders stretching a fine white shirt he probably had made to order. His chest was wide, his torso tapering down to a honed waist, his legs long. She didn’t know much about his hobbies, but she could imagine him getting fit while horseback riding, could see him sitting tall in a saddle, just as easily as he no doubt commanded a boardroom.
During his scan of her portfolio—he’d seen it during their initial interview two days ago, so was he only perusing it to make her squirm?—Melanie took the opportunity to read between the lines of his silence.
And, boy, did he ever enjoy his silence.
He’d stopped at the other end of the room in front of a stained-glass window, the subdued early May colors bathing him as he glanced over at her. Dark leather furniture surrounded him with a Gothic stillness, each piece angled just so.
Caught checking him out, Melanie’s stomach flip-flopped, but she nonetheless sat straight in her chair, under the intense scan of his hazel eyes.
Probably, it was a bad idea to let her could-be boss know that she’d been assessing him, yet she didn’t want him to think she was the type to look away or back down. She was here to get this job, taking care of his six-year-old daughter, Olivia, whom she’d met briefly during the previous interview.
And Melanie was going to win him over, just as his daughter had thoroughly won her at first sight.
Calming her fluttering nerves, she watched as he coolly refocused on her file, as if he’d only glanced her way to take her measure when she’d least expected it.
But was there some satisfaction in his expression?
Had she passed the pop quiz?
“Oklahoma,” he said, apropos of nothing. But he’d done it in a low, rich voice that smoothed over her skin just as if he’d bent real close and whispered in her ear.
Melanie made sure her own tone didn’t betray that she’d been affected. “I was born and raised just on the outskirts of Tulsa.”
They’d covered these basics during their first meeting, and she knew he’d combed through the dossier she’d presented to him, as well. Over these past couple of days, he’d no doubt checked her references, which she knew would speak for themselves. After all, she’d been recommended to him by a business associate he trusted, and that was most likely the only reason she’d gotten her discount-rack shoes in the front door.
Why did she have the feeling that he was going over her information again, just to see if she’d trip up?
Or maybe she was being paranoid. That tended to happen to folks who might have something to hide…
He wasn’t saying anything, so she continued talking, supplying more personal details than she had the other day. “It was just me and my mom at first. She put me through day care by keeping the books at a small business, and the minute I was old enough, I dealt with the household after school hours.”
Melanie didn’t add that those books her mom had kept were located in the back room of the greasy spoon where Leigh Grandy primarily waited on tables between double shifts and numerous dates with the “nice men” she brought home for “sleepovers.” In fact, Melanie wasn’t even sure which date was her father in the first place; she just knew that he hadn’t stuck around.
Now Zane Foley moved toward the long table where Melanie sat, nearing the other end, which seemed a mile away. It lent enough distance for her to risk another lingering glance at him while he closed her portfolio, placed it on the table, then picked up her dossier.
Darn, he’s handsome, she thought before forcing herself to get back into interview mode. But the notion wouldn’t go away, brushing through her belly and warming her in areas that should have come with “off-limits” signs.
She would be the nanny, he would be the boss. End of story, if she should be so lucky as to be hired.
“Your information,” he said, his gaze still on the papers, “indicates that you started a child-care career early. I’d like to know a little more about your brothers and sisters and how they led to your choice of profession.”
“Actually, they were my stepbrothers and stepsisters.”
“I stand corrected.”
She smiled, avoiding any hardball, but still not standing down.
He didn’t smile at all, yet she was getting used to that.
“My mom married the man she called her ‘true love’ when I was fifteen.” It was wonder enough that her mother had finally settled down, but it was even more amazing that her marriage was still intact today. “He had four children. Two of them were much younger than I was—little girls—so I watched over them, in addition to other work. The older two were twin boys, but they weren’t around much, because they liked their sports.”
Zane Foley cocked a dark eyebrow as he leveled a look at her. “‘Were’ younger? ‘Were’ twin boys?”
Melanie tightened her fingers where they were clasped on the table.
He sat in the leather armchair at the other end, perfectly comfortable with being the inquisitor.
Please let me get through this, she thought. She’d spent nearly every last penny in her bank account to get here, traveling to Dallas for these interviews, in the hope that her lucky stars would shine and she’d secure this new job, this new direction.
“You keep using the past tense when you talk about your stepsiblings, Ms. Grandy,” Zane Foley said.
“My mistake.” She was determined to keep smiling. “We all still keep tabs on each other, even though we’re adults.” If you counted the odd e-mail as healthy familial relations.
But since she’d left her brood back in Oklahoma, they were the past to Melanie. She was the same to them, too, except for her mom, who called quite often for loans.
When her mother remarried, Melanie had ended up in the valley of a no-man’s land. Her stepfather had preferred his own kids to her, making no secret about his feelings, either. To him, she was his wife’s “bastard issue,” and instead of taking out his frustrations about that on Leigh, he’d put it all on Melanie.
Of course, Melanie had approached her mom about this, actually thinking that it would help if Leigh were to address it. Silly her. Her mother had only accused Melanie of trying to sabotage the happiness she’d finally found.
It’d been a stunning moment of betrayal—an instant in which Melanie had realized that her mother would always prefer her guys to her daughter, who’d worked so, so hard to matter more than any of those “nice men.”
“When I was a teen,” she added, directing the interview back to the more positive aspects of her life, “I took courses at the YMCA for babysitting, and you could say I managed a cottage industry early on. I was booked every weekend, and even during the week, if I could handle it with my studies.”
“Evidently, you could, because you aced your classes in school. You graduated with honors, in fact.”
“I knew I’d never get anywhere without a good education.”
She’d supplied her school records for him, and she was sure someone on his staff had already double-checked those, as well as her employment history.
She only hoped that the one job she’d left off her résumé wouldn’t come back to dog her—a gig that had gotten her through college. A paycheck-earner that she preferred to leave behind with the rest of her past.
Her time as a showgirl in what she now considered to be a seedy off-Strip casino in Vegas.
She blew out a breath, continuing, praying she wouldn’t give herself away. “Besides babysitting, I took up waiting tables at a burger joint after classes. But I was known as the go-to babysitter of the neighborhood, and that got me more and more jobs. So I gravitated toward that, since I think I was good at it.” She laughed a little. “Besides, I could charge more than I made in a restaurant that catered to teens, where the tips were…lacking.”
“Industrious,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if it was just a random comment, or if he was truly impressed.
After all, the Foleys were known far and wide for rolling up their shirtsleeves and working for their fortune. They were self-made men, and Melanie was hoping he would want that in the nanny who was raising his child, too.
“I saved every dollar,” she added, “splurging only on my dancing lessons. Lots of them. I couldn’t go without.”
“We all need an outlet,” he said, but he sounded distracted as he looked at the dossier again.
At his next question, she knew they’d entered the most dangerous part of the interview.
“Why did you head toward Vegas right after graduating high school?”
Nerves prickled her skin. “I’d heard the economy was booming at the time, and the opportunity seemed ripe for the taking. The waitress job I got in a local café paid far more in tips than I’d ever made before.”
He didn’t answer, as if expecting more.
She smiled again, giving as good as she was getting. “Didn’t you also gravitate there for the same general reason, Mr. Foley? You’ve developed several projects in the area.”
Maybe it was her chutzpah, but a slight grin tilted his mouth.
That was his only answer, and it disappeared before Melanie could be sure she’d even seen it. Then he was right back in boss-man mode, scribbling some notes on the cover of her dossier.
Was he thinking that she was naïve for dropping everything and heading to Vegas, just as thousands of dreamers without his kind of money had done before her? Get rich quick. Double your income with the right gambles.
And gamble she had, just not with money.
She’d been “discovered” one night when she went out dancing with some fellow students from community college. A talent coordinator from The Grand Illusion casino had given her his business card, inviting her to an audition.
At first, she’d denied him, thinking that her waitress job would hold her. Then her mom had started to write her, asking for loans, and in spite of how Melanie had wanted to escape Oklahoma, she couldn’t say no to helping out the family.
And that’s when she’d decided to audition. The Grand Illusion had a small, fairly cheesy revue that was half bawdy magic and half sexy musical, although nothing distasteful. Heck, no one even took off their sequined tops. She told herself she probably wouldn’t make it anyway. Yet, much to her surprise, she’d breezed through the process, with them offering her a modest wage and, more importantly, the promise of open days during which she could keep going to school and wait a few tables.
It was an ideal setup, and it wasn’t as if she was doing any exotic dancing. Just as soon as she had her degree, she’d be done with it anyway.
When she had the degree under her belt, she quit dancing, just as she’d promised herself, and she’d signed on for her first nanny job, thanks to a glowing recommendation from her advisor to his personal friend.
Her employer had been an affluent single mom, a prominent business developer who was in dire need of a helper; and it’d been the perfect job for years, until Melanie’s boss got married and decided to become a stay-at-home mother.
And that’s how Melanie had come to Dallas at the age of twenty-eight—because her first employer had worked with Zane Foley on the development of a Vegas mega apartment-village complex, and when the businesswoman heard that his latest nanny had quit and he needed to hire another one pronto, she’d given him Melanie’s name.
He nudged the dossier away from him and, for a heavy moment, Melanie wondered if Zane Foley, a man who seemed to cover every base, had dug deep enough into her life to expose her crowded double-wide-trailer beginnings and dancing days.
Was he going to spring it on her now?
“As you’ve heard from Andrea Sandoval,” he finally said, referring to Melanie’s first nanny employer, “I’m eager to get someone in place to care for my daughter. And you almost seem too good to be true, Ms. Grandy, dropping into my lap like this.”
She felt heat creeping over her face, mainly because she could just imagine what it might be like to drop into his lap—Lord have mercy—yet also because she didn’t want to panic at what he might’ve uncovered.
“No one’s perfect, Mr. Foley,” she said, hoping he would agree.
He didn’t, so she kept talking, seeing if she could maybe use a little flattery as backup.
“Although,” she said, “your family seems to come close enough to perfect as it gets.”
He remained distant, over on his side of the table. “We’re hardly perfect.”
“Then you should tell your PR people to stop selling that image,” she said lightly. “The media seems to think that the Foleys are the epitome of what’s good about our country.”
His tone grew taut. “You’ve been looking into my family, have you?”
How could she deny it? News about the business doings of the Foleys, whose holdings had started from a few oil rigs to an empire based on prime real estate and media interests, was legion. Then there were all their charitable causes, behind-the-scenes political power plays and even the social adventures of Zane’s brother, Jason. Hard to ignore, when the media—and the nation—was fascinated with them, even if Zane, himself, tended to avoid the limelight.
“I only did my research,” she said, “because I need to make sure you’re the right family for me, just as you’re making sure I’m right for you.”
Her smile returned full force, but not because she was trying to win him over this time. She was remembering the freckled nose and doe eyes of his daughter. There’d only been a short introduction, yet it’d been enough to convince Melanie that she didn’t belong anywhere else in this world. Something about Olivia had profoundly tugged at Melanie, maybe because the girl reminded her of herself—a little lost and isolated.
Zane Foley didn’t return her smile. In fact, he seemed intent on avoiding it, while the sun from outside shifted enough to slant a patch of red from the stained glass over the strong angles of his face.
Her chest went tight.
“I like your optimism,” he said. “You’d need quite a bit of it with Livie, you know. As I pointed out during our first interview, she’s gone through five nannies in six years.”
“I remember.” Her former employer had already cautioned Melanie. After Olivia’s mom had passed away, the girl had rejected everyone she perceived to be taking her mom’s place.
Melanie had known from the start that this wouldn’t be an easy job; but she wanted to make a difference in the girl’s life, because she sure wished someone had made a difference earlier in her own.
“My daughter’s a handful,” he said. “I’ll make no bones about that.”
“I’ve got more perseverance than you can imagine.”
“Your predecessors thought they had it, too. And on their way out the door, most of them even told me that I ought to think about applying some of that perseverance I show in my own business to my household.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Just to give you fair warning, I don’t employ nannies to get advice from them.”
Melanie kept eye contact, thinking that there was a chink in the steeliness of his gaze—a darkness that showed more than just that notorious arrogance.
“Mr. Foley,” she said softly, “I’d never presume to judge anyone.”
He stared at her a beat longer, then sat back in his chair again, even though he didn’t let up with his gaze. It held her, screwed into her, until a slight thrill traveled her veins.
“The family businesses are important to me,” he said. “Among other things, they’re Livie’s legacy, and I intend to give her a great one. As an only child, she’ll take over all of my share one day, the oil holdings, as well as real-estate interests.”
He said it as if he planned to never get married or have children again. In some weird way, that got to Melanie.
But…jeez. Like she should even be mulling over his most intimate decisions.
“I’m sure your daughter will be grateful for everything you do,” she said.
“You should also know that I spend a lot of time defending our investments, not just building them up. That’s what takes up the majority of my schedule, and the work’s too important for me to spend as much time in Austin with Livie as most people expect.”
“Right,” she said, figuring she would show him just how much research she’d done. “I read that you have to defend against people like the McCords.”
His mouth tightened once more, this time at the name of the family who’d been taking part in a well-known feud with the Foleys for generations.
Oops. She made a mental note never to mention them again.
Zane Foley seemed eager to be rid of the subject. “The bottom line is this—my commitments require a lot of me, and that’s why I need someone to depend on for Livie. Someone who’s more or less my proxy, enforcing my rules and raising her the way I need her to be raised.”
She chafed at his authoritarian tone. What was his daughter to him—another project to develop, like the ones he oversaw in his office?
But Olivia—Livie—was a little girl, and—from what Melanie had seen in her eyes, even for the few minutes they’d conversed—she needed more than rules and routines.
Melanie was on the cusp of saying so when she remembered how much she wanted this job.
“I understand, Mr. Foley,” she said instead, keeping the peace, even if she didn’t really understand him at all.
He gave her one last look from those striking hazel eyes, and she fortified herself against it—almost successfully, too. He only got her tummy to flip one more time.
Then he rose from his chair, leaving her dossier and portfolio on the table.
Melanie held her breath. Was the interview over?
But he only walked away from the table, toward the hushed hallway.
When he saw that she wasn’t following, he waited, and she realized that he wanted her to come, too.
Okay then.
As she stood, she grabbed her suit jacket from the back of her chair, then smoothed down the skirt of the only conservative business outfit she owned.
She made her way across the room to him, her heels clopping on the hard floor, echoing way too loudly for her comfort.
He avoided the door and led her down the hall.
Where was he taking her?
“Livie will receive a full education,” he said, beginning to fire off his expectations, “even when she’s not in school.”
“I’m prepared to teach Livie,” she said, excitement churning. He was going to make an offer! “With Ms. Sandoval’s daughter, Toni, I planned a different learning experience every day, and doing the same here would be wonderful.”
“Livie would benefit from your dance background in particular.”
Melanie’s blood jolted, but then she realized he was probably talking about all the classes, from ballet to jazz to hip-hop, she’d taken. “Livie has taken dance before?”
“No, but she needs to let out her energy in a constructive manner.”
“I see.”
“Other than that, her schedule is set. Firm. Don’t deviate from it, because she responds well to structure. It might be your biggest saving grace.”
Based on Zane Foley’s well-ordered townhouse, as well as all his comments, Melanie wondered if, when she arrived in Austin, she would find Livie inhabiting something like a high-class jail.
Fuming inwardly, she told herself to stay quiet. You want this job, you need this job, so keep your opinions to yourself for now.
They came to what looked to be a study, with more dark, finely etched antique furniture carefully placed about the room: a desk set that held a laptop computer and organized files, a curio cabinet, shelves teeming with leather-bound books that lent the air a thick, musty scent.
There were also large, framed paintings on the walls, the biggest being an old family portrait of the Foleys that featured brothers Jason and Travis, both of whom couldn’t have been more than ten years old at the time, even though Travis looked a little younger. They stood next to their dad, Rex, an affable looking man with a charming grin. Then there was Olivia Marie, their deceased mom, who wore her own gentle smile as she hooked her arm through Rex’s.
On the fringes of them all was Zane, who even in his early teens seemed to carry himself with a combination of cockiness and seriousness.
When Melanie glanced away from the portrait, she found that Zane was behind her, standing in front of a different painting. Livie’s.
A recent depiction of a sweet little girl in a pink dress, her wavy dark hair held back by a lacy headband. She smiled faintly and held a stuffed lamb.
The picture got to Melanie, yet it was the expression on Zane’s face that just about melted her altogether.
Naked love and devotion.
But then it turned into something else—destruction—and Melanie wondered what could have possibly turned one emotion into the other so quickly.
As Zane stared at his daughter’s portrait, he wasn’t seeing Livie so much as someone else entirely. Danielle.
His wife, dead six years now, but still so agonizingly alive in the face of his daughter.
He couldn’t stand the questions that always came afterward: would Livie grow up to be just like her mother? Would his daughter break her own husband’s heart someday, too?
Would she have the same mood swings—from dark to manic—that had escalated into that awful day when Danielle had taken her own life?
He glanced away, his attention locking on the svelte figure of Melanie Grandy. With sunny blond hair that swept her shoulders and blue eyes that seemed to sparkle even when she wasn’t smiling, she was the opposite of Danielle and Livie. But from her heart-shaped face to her ill-fitting blue business suit that he supposed she’d purchased just for these interviews—she’d worn the skirt the other day, too—he got the impression of vulnerability. A leggy wisp of a woman, she might not be so different from Danielle after all.
At his inspection, she raised her chin, a habit he’d become familiar with even during their short acquaintance.
No, this woman had a core to her. She also had an innate dignity that sent a buzz of heat through his veins.
Raw beauty, he thought, flashes of an unpolished diamond lighting his mind’s eye.
But the glare of it made him realize that there was no room for any kind of attraction, especially since she seemed to be a perfect fit for Livie. And thank God for Andrea Sandoval’s timely reference, because the last nanny had quit, leaving Zane at loose ends. He’d needed a quick hire, and since Ms. Grandy didn’t have a criminal record and had come with the highest recommendation from a family friend, he seized the opportunity.
It was just a bonus that his daughter would match well with her new nanny. Livie required someone with spine enough to stand tall and firm, as Ms. Grandy had gracefully done throughout their interviews.
He chanced one last, long second of looking at her, turning the air into a humid fog.
And she seemed to feel it, too. He could’ve sworn it, because she set her jacket on a nearby end table and folded her hands in front of her while concentrating on the picture, a pink tint to her cheeks.
He got back to business, as well.
Always business. Safer that way.
He moved toward his computer, then woke it out of hibernation mode. He’d brought Ms. Grandy into his study to show her the virtual layout of the Austin estate where Livie resided, but even so, he held off on opening the computer file.
She was still back at Livie’s portrait.
“She’s a beautiful child,” Ms. Grandy said, and he could sense that she was being genuine in the compliment. “I can’t wait to start our first day, maybe with some art, where she can express ideas that she might be too shy to say out loud right away.”
“The last time a nanny got the paint out she was scrubbing it off Livie for what seemed like hours. It was even supposed to be washable.”
He could see a battle playing over Melanie Grandy’s face, and it wasn’t the first time. She was clearly wondering if she should put in her own two cents about her child-rearing philosophies, instead of listening to his own cynical point of view.
The other nannies had always kept quiet, but when Ms. Grandy spoke, he was pleasantly surprised that she even dared, although it raised his hackles, as well.
“I’m not afraid of some extra cleanup,” she said, “if it’s the result of something positive for Livie. Maybe she’s the type who would benefit from stepping out of that structure she’s so used to?”
Now he wasn’t even pleasantly surprised with her.
She obviously noticed. “Mr. Foley, I’m not suggesting anything radical. I’m only interested in getting to know Livie.”
