Terms Of A Texas Marriage. Lauren Canan

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СКАЧАТЬ the entire presentation. Right down to her walking out of the room. The deliberate downplay of some factors of the contract, the strong focus on others. He was good. She had to give him that.

      But there was one thing she’d bet Morreston hadn’t taken into account. Her father had always said she was an obstinate, hardheaded female who never knew when to admit defeat. She had no intention of admitting failure so easily and giving in to that arrogant, money-grubbing son-of-a-bitch.

      Maybe she would lose her home. But maybe she wouldn’t.

      Ben had said she must be married before the contract expired. He hadn’t said she must be married to Alec Morreston, as his attorney had implied. Somewhere out there was a man who would agree to marry her for one year as a strictly business arrangement. She was going to find him.

      She squared her shoulders with renewed conviction and started the truck. There was a lot to do and a very short time in which to do it.

      * * *

      Alec and Thomas gathered their respective documents and prepared to leave Ben Rucker’s office. Ms. Hardin’s abrupt exit from the meeting, while anticipated, had ended any further need for discussion.

      Alec had to admit, he was impressed with Shea Hardin. She was not at all what he’d expected. In her midtwenties, she presented herself as having the maturity of someone much older. Even though this must have been devastating to her, she hadn’t shouted or cried or otherwise made a scene as so many others in her position might have done. She’d been upset, but that was understandable. Her parting words, quietly spoken to her attorney just before she’d left the room, indicated acceptance of the situation and what was to come.

      But had she really given up? His success in business was due in large part to following his gut instincts. Rarely in his thirty-six years had those instincts let him down. Right now they were screaming that Shea Hardin had done anything but admit defeat.

      From the top of the silky blond hair that fell in tousled disarray around her head to the tight jeans hugging her slim waist, then molding her sexy, feminine curves and long, slender legs, she was trouble with a capital T. If you added the delicate, almost angelic features of her face and the wide-eyed innocence of those amazing blue eyes, you had the makings of one hell of a problem. Shea Hardin would have no difficulty finding and persuading some spineless, misguided male to marry her for a year. She had five days to do it. And if she succeeded, he could kiss this project goodbye.

      Alec regretted it had to be this way: that this young woman had to be forced out of her home. He’d experienced an uncomfortable twinge of regret even before her attorney had informed her of the hopelessness of her situation.

      With a grimace, he tossed the last manila folder into his briefcase and closed it. Regret hadn’t been the only thing he’d felt. He couldn’t remember his libido ever reacting with the speed and intensity it had to Shea Hardin. A flash of insight told him sex with her would be hot and intense, mind-blowing in its fervor. Illogical anger flared at the idea of her marrying another man, lying in his bed. He shook his head to dispel the irrational notion. Under the circumstances, he’d be the last person on earth she’d ever let come near her.

      As he snapped the locks on his briefcase closed, the idea ran through his mind that he should find her, apologize for this seizure of the land and...what?

      He wasn’t backing away from this venture. He couldn’t. Too much time and money already had been invested. So, what good would it do to apologize? She would soon be out of a home, and no apology would change that fact.

      As they walked out of the building and toward the parking lot, Alec couldn’t shake the idea that he shouldn’t be leaving just yet. And if he was honest, he didn’t know if it was concern about the land issue or a ridiculously illogical reluctance to walk away from Shea Hardin.

      “Thomas,” he said as they reached the car, “drop me off at the local car-rental agency, then drive back into Dallas, to Dallas-Fort Worth International, and go on to Boston. Meet with Rolston in the morning and finalize the plans for construction of his new hotel. You know what we need. Get the contracts signed, and I’ll see you back in New York in a couple of days.”

      “You’re staying here?” Thomas’s brows rose in surprise. “You really think that’s necessary?”

      “Yeah. I have a feeling Ms. Hardin is not going to give in this easily.”

      “Well, keep me posted.” Thomas opened the car door and tossed his suit coat inside. “Alec, don’t start feeling bad about this woman’s situation. You’ve offered her a lot of money that you didn’t have to and you’ve given her virtually all the time she needs to relocate. Hell, it’s your land.”

      “Yeah, I hear you.” Alec nodded his head. “We’re on the same page. I should be here only a couple of days. I’ll call tonight and check on Scotty. Mom had the zoo scheduled for today. I have a feeling by now she should be about ready to go home.”

      “Your mother is keeping your son?”

      Alec nodded. “Ms. Bishop quit. And after just two weeks, her replacement was already looking a bit frazzled.” Alec shrugged. “Mother offered to come and stay with him. I flew her in from St. Petersburg just before we left to come here.”

      Thomas chuckled. “That boy is four going on twenty-four.”

      Alec smiled. “Don’t I know it.”

      After arranging for a car, Alec eased the large sedan into the lane of traffic heading north. He should be on his way to Boston or back to New York. Instead, he was stuck in a rural north Texas town full of coyotes and cowboys, boots and brawls, dirt roads and bumper stickers proclaiming the South would rise again. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t want to be here. But he had to protect his right to this land. If it hadn’t been mentioned in the reading of his grandfather’s will, he wouldn’t have known of its existence. Now that he knew, he wasn’t about to let it slip through his hands.

      The logical thing to do was to bring in a couple of his staff to keep an eye on things. But before the idea could begin to formulate, Shea Hardin’s face drifted into his mind, and he squelched the plan before it had a chance to develop.

      * * *

      “Thanks for coming over, Leona.” Shea pushed the screen door farther open, welcoming her neighbor onto the wide enclosed porch at the rear of the house. “I really do need your help.”

      Three days had passed since the meeting in Ben’s office and Shea still hadn’t come up with a solid plan to save the ranch.

      “Are you all right?” Leona squinted and gave Shea a cursory inspection. “You sounded terrible on the phone. Kinda scared me. I was afraid you’d gotten kicked by that damn stallion again.”

      “I’m fine.” She smiled at the older woman. “At least physically. Come on in and I’ll fix us both a glass of tea.”

      Leona Finch was the closest thing to a mother figure Shea had since her own mom died when she was five. Shea loved Leona dearly. In her midsixties, the sun-browned features of her face bore the wrinkles of a lifetime spent on a working ranch. Her speech was as rough as her skin. But she was sensitive, perceptive and in spite of her limited education, profoundly wise.

      “So, if you’re not hurt, what’s the deal?” Leona walked into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat down at the table as Shea filled two glasses СКАЧАТЬ