Millionaire on Her Doorstep. Stella Bagwell

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      “Actually, I don’t normally live with my parents. I have a place of my own in the Hondo Valley. But at the moment, I’m having some remodeling done to the house. Mom and Dad’s ranch house is huge, so they urged me to stay with them until the work is finished. And it’s nice to spend a little time at home.”

      “I’m sure,” she murmured, then wondered if Adam knew what a precious thing a home really was. Had he ever known what it was like to be well and truly alone in the world? No. She didn’t think so. She figured the most Adam Sanders ever had to worry about was where to get his expensive shirts laundered or the color to choose for his next new vehicle.

      Not that Maureen resented the man’s wealth. Since she’d acquired her master’s degree in geology, she’d made a powerful salary. She could buy herself most anything she wanted. Yet she couldn’t buy what Adam had. No one could.

      “Do you have siblings?” she asked him.

      He nodded. “I have a twin sister, Anna. She got married a few weeks ago to the foreman on our ranch. She and Miguel live on the property, too. Then we have a younger sister, Ivy. She’s currently in medical school at the University of New Mexico.” He sipped his coffee, then casually studied her over the rim of the takeout cup. “What about you, Ms. York? Do you have parents or siblings?”

      Maureen’s gaze dropped to the half-eaten Danish in her hand. She’d been asked this question many times in the past. Normally, it never bothered her to answer. But this morning with Adam’s green eyes waiting, she’d rather have her hand chopped off.

      “First of all, I told you not to call me Ms. York.”

      The tips of his fingers unconsciously tapped the tabletop. The movement drew Maureen’s gaze to his hands. They were strong and square shaped, the backs sprinkled with dark hair. Faint scratch marks marred three of his knuckles, and from what she could see of his fingers, they were padded with calluses. He was a man who worked with his brain, but he obviously wasn’t afraid to use his hands, too. She liked that about him. Liked it too much.

      “All right Maureen. Tell me about your family.”

      “I have no family,” she said bluntly, then took a bite of the Danish as if that was all there was to say.

      His brows arched upward in a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding expression. “Surely you have an aunt or uncle or something somewhere. What happened to your parents?”

      Still avoiding his eyes, she said, “They were killed in a storm. We lived in a rural area of Texas where the nearest clinic was thirty miles away. My mother was expecting another baby any day, and thinking she’d gone into labor they decided they had no choice but to go to a doctor. The rain was blinding and part of the highway was flooded. Unseeing, they drove into the water and the swift current carried them away. I was four at the time.”

      She recited the story in a flat, factual voice as though she was talking about someone she hadn’t known. But then it quickly struck Adam that she’d been little more than a baby when her parents had died. She hadn’t known them in the sense he or any average person would know their parents.

      “You were their only child?”

      She nodded. “I went to live with my maternal grandmother after that. She was the only relative around who was willing to take me in. But she was elderly and she died by the time I was eight.”

      “What happened then?”

      She looked at him, her lips compressed to a thin, mocking line. “Foster homes.”

      “I’m sorry,” he said, the shock of her story robbing him of a better response.

      “Don’t be. I managed to grow up in spite of it all.” She rose to her feet and crossed the room to a small trash can. After tossing in the half-eaten Danish and last dregs of her coffee, she turned back to him. “Well, I don’t know what you plan to do with the rest of your day, but I’m going to get to work on these charts.”

      She’d lost her family, and if she had any distant relatives left, they obviously weren’t the kind you counted, he mused. It was difficult to imagine what growing up in that sort of environment had been like for her. He’d had two loving parents, aunts and uncles who adored him and two sisters who’d always put him up on a pedestal. He couldn’t imagine his life without any of them. And though she was trying to give him the impression that none of it had affected her that much, he knew better.

      “I have plenty to do,” he said, then rose to his feet and followed her back over to the cabinet where she picked up the stack of seismographic charts. “But there is something I wanted to discuss with you before I go back to my office.”

      In an effort to still the trembling in her hands, she gripped the graphed papers with their squiggly lines. She didn’t know why it had shaken her to speak to Adam about her past. After all, lots of people had lost their parents when they were young. Lots of people had grown up in foster homes. It wasn’t anything unusual or something to be ashamed of. But for some reason there was a lump as big as a fist in her throat.

      “What did you want to speak to me about?” She forced her gaze to lift to his, then inwardly sighed with relief when she didn’t find pity or distaste in his eyes. More than anything, she wanted Adam Sanders to see her as a strong, successful woman. A woman who’d made it on her own and was proud of her accomplishments.

      “Where are you staying? Here in town?”

      She nodded and named the motel. “Why do you ask?”

      Adam’s eyes drifted to her mouth. It was full and moist, the color of a strawberry when it turned juicy and ready to eat. The thought had him inwardly groaning with self-disgust. “I, uh, I just wanted to say there’s no need for you to stay in a motel. We have plenty of room out at the ranch.”

      She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Is this invitation from you or your parents?”

      It was on the tip of his tongue to admit he’d first objected to the idea, but he quickly squashed it. Maybe Maureen York wasn’t the cool, self-assured woman he’d originally thought. Maybe he’d let her success as a scientist cloud the picture he’d envisioned of her. She might actually need another human being from time to time. And he wouldn’t be adverse to helping her if she would truly appreciate it. And him.

      “Actually, the invitation is from all of us, and I told my parents I’d speak to you about it today.”

      Without making any sort of reply, she turned and moved away from him. The gold-framed glasses dangled from her fingers as she mulled over his suggestion.

      Adam jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and tried not to stare at the tall, shapely line of her figure from behind. He didn’t understand his reaction to this woman. He’d had plenty of girlfriends in the past, and if someone asked him what his taste in women ran to, he’d have to say petite and delicate. The sort who looked as if the slightest squeeze from a man’s hand would crush their bones. He normally loved blond hair and had always had a penchant for blue eyes. Soft and delicate and needy. Those were the things he’d always looked for in a woman. Those were the things his Susan had been made of.

      But Maureen York was none of those things. She was tall with a full, ripe figure that was a far cry from delicate. She wasn’t even close to being thin. She was downright curvy. Her hair СКАЧАТЬ