One Stubborn Texan. Kara Lennox

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СКАЧАТЬ taken her to Las Vegas, where she’d been checking into the legality of a certain contested marriage that had taken place in a wedding chapel now known to have performed numerous fraudulent weddings. She’d nearly fainted when she’d stumbled across Sammy Oberlin’s name. For years, investigators had been trying to track down Sammy’s mysterious son, known only as Russell. But only Sydney had the lead—the name of Sammy’s first “wife,” Winnie, never legally married to him, who may very well have borne him a son.

      The trail had led to Texas.

      Russ made no comment. He simply studied her every bit as frankly as she’d done him. Her face felt warm, but maybe it was simply being too close to the stove. It wasn’t as if she’d never received attention from a handsome man before—though not lately. For the past few months, trying to take care of her father’s agency, as well as her own business, she’d barely had time to brush her teeth, much less nurture a social life.

      Finally Russ spoke. “As far as I know, I haven’t misplaced any money.”

      “That’s the thing,” she hurried to explain. “Most of my clients don’t realize they’re due some money. Sometimes it’s a bank account that’s been forgotten or a utility deposit. But most often, I search for missing heirs. Sometimes when people die with no will or an old or bad will, it’s a real chore to locate the heirs.”

      “Are you saying someone died and left me some money?” He didn’t look as pleased by that possibility as most people were.

      Sydney didn’t answer his question. Instead she said, “It’s not prudent for me to reveal too many details until we have an agreement.”

      “Oh, I get it. You’re afraid I’ll cut you out.”

      Yes, exactly. He’d figured out her game pretty quickly. “Mr. Klein, I deal in information and information has value. Surely you can see I wouldn’t have much of a business if I gave away information for free.”

      He continued to scowl suspiciously at her. She hadn’t yet seen him smile.

      “I provide a service,” she continued, trying to make him understand. “I reunite people with money and property they never even knew about. And for that, I charge a fee.”

      Finally, his frown faded to something more like thoughtfulness. She released the breath she’d been holding. Maybe she’d gotten through.

      “I don’t begrudge your right to make a living however you see fit,” he finally said. “But I don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for.”

      “But you don’t even know who I’m looking for,” she pointed out. What was the deal with this guy, anyway?

      “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want more money. I make a comfortable income and I have everything I need.”

      For a moment, Sydney just stared. “You mean, you won’t even answer a few questions?” She’d never had anyone refuse to let her hook them up with their money, not unless they already had an idea of where the money was. Most considered the sudden appearance of an heir-finder a gift from on high.

      “I’m a very private person. I don’t like people poking around in my personal life.”

      “Just one question. Please. Is your mother’s name Winifred? Or anything similar?”

      “My mother’s name is Vera.”

      Sydney sagged. So he wasn’t the right one. “And your father? What’s his name?” she asked, just to be sure.

      Russ’s expression became suddenly fierce. “I don’t have a father. My mother’s never been married.”

      “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so nosy, but do you at least know his name?”

      He rubbed the tops of his thighs, looking out the window. She knew she’d made him very uncomfortable, but she had to be thorough.

      “My mother slept with a lot of men,” he finally said.

      “I’m sorry,” she said again. If Russ didn’t even know his father’s name, it was doubtful the father even knew of his existence. Damn, she’d been so sure she was on the right track. She had some other Russell Kleins to check out in neighboring towns, but this one had been her top candidate. He was the right age. Winnie’s son was most likely between thirty and thirty-three. If she couldn’t find him in this general area, she would have to widen her search to all of Texas—or the whole darn country, if it came to that. But that would take time and time was a luxury she didn’t have.

      “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing,” Russ said, and he seemed to relax slightly. “Could I buy you lunch? The Cherry Blossom Café across the street makes a mean chicken-fried steak, so at least you won’t leave Linhart hungry.”

      She struggled to regain her equilibrium. “No, thanks,” she said brightly. “Do you know any other Russell Kleins, perhaps relations of yours? Or any Winifred Kleins?”

      “This town is full of Kleins. You can’t hardly throw a rock without hitting one. But I don’t know any others with the names you mentioned.”

      “Well, if you think of anyone, would you let me know? And maybe you could ask members of your family if they know. I’ll be staying at the Periwinkle Bed & Breakfast.”

      “You’re staying here?” he asked, surprised.

      “I’m going to spend some time going over documents in your courthouse—birth and death certificates, property records, that sort of thing. Not all records are available online. I’m also going to be tracking down a few more Kleins in neighboring towns.”

      “You could still do with lunch.”

      She couldn’t deny that the offer tempted her. But she was on a tight schedule. She couldn’t leave her father alone for more than a couple of days, not when he was in such a fragile mental state. Although his depression had lifted somewhat, he still had bad days when he needed her close by.

      “I appreciate the offer,” she said. “Maybe another time.”

      She stood and picked up her things, keeping an eye on the dog, who was still watching her with unnerving intensity. She thanked Russ Klein for his time and headed for the door, deciding quickly on a new strategy. “Oh, Mr. Klein?”

      “You can call me Russ.”

      “Russ, then. This sum of money we’re talking about. It might interest you to know that it runs into eight figures.”

      Russ Klein’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows rose so high they almost met his hairline. Finally she’d gotten a reaction out of him.

      “That’s ten million,” she supplied.

      “I can count the zeroes. Ten million? Dollars? That’s what you call a small sum of money?”

      “Call me if you have any ideas.” She hurried out of the store, resisting the temptation to stay and press the matter. Let him sit on that information and see how long he claimed he didn’t want or need more money. Maybe he wasn’t the Oberlin heir. But she had this nagging sensation he knew something and just wasn’t telling her.

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