The Tycoon's Charm. Yvonne Lindsay
for five generations. A tradition Becca had had no interest in carrying on. As far as she had been concerned, Katy could have it all.
And now she would.
The limo rolled to a stop by the front porch steps and Reece got out to open his door. As he did, a wall of hot, damp air engulfed the cool interior, making the leather feel instantly sticky to the touch.
This meeting had been Katy’s idea, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Not that he disliked his former in-laws. He just had nothing in common with them. However, if they were going to be involved in his child’s life, the least he could do was make an effort to be cordial. According to Katy, the news of his plan to use the embryos had come as a shock to them, but knowing Katy would be the surrogate had softened the blow. And since a meeting with his attorney last week, when he and Katy signed a surrogacy agreement, it was official. With any luck, nine months from her next ovulation cycle she would be having his and Becca’s baby.
After months of consideration and planning, it was difficult to believe that it was finally happening. That after years of longing to have a child, he finally had his chance. And despite Katy and her parents’ concerns, he would be a good father. Unlike his own father, who had been barely more than a ghost after Adam’s mother passed away. Adam spent most of his childhood away at boarding schools, or in summer camps. The only decent thing his father had ever done was leave him Western Oil when he died. And though it had taken several years of hard work, Adam had pulled it back from the brink of death.
“Sir?”
Adam looked up and realized Reece was standing by the open car door, waiting for him to climb out.
“Everything okay, sir?” he asked.
“Fine.” May as well get this over with, he thought, climbing from the back of the car into the sticky heat.
“Hey, stranger,” he heard someone call from the vicinity of the barn, and looked over to see Katy walking toward him. She was dressed for work, her thick, leather gloves and boots caked with mud. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and as she got closer he saw that there was a smudge of dirt on her left cheek. For some odd reason he felt the urge to reach up and rub it clean.
He looked her up and down and asked, “Am I early? I was sure you said four o’clock.”
“No, you’re right on time. The rain set us back in our chores a bit, that’s all.” She followed his gaze down her sweat-soaked shirt and mud-splattered jeans and said apologetically, “I’d hug you, but I’m a little filthy.”
Filthy or not, he wasn’t the hug type. “I’ll settle for a handshake.”
She tugged off her glove and wiped her hand on the leg of her jeans before extending it to him. Her skin was hot and clammy, her grip firm. She turned to Reece and introduced herself. “Katherine Huntley, but everyone calls me Katy.”
He warily accepted her outstretched hand. He wasn’t used to being acknowledged, much less greeted so warmly. Adam recalled that the hired help had always been regarded as family on the Huntley ranch. “Reece Wilson, ma’am.”
“It’s a scorcher. Would you like to come inside with us?” she asked, gesturing to the house. “Have something cold to drink?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
“If you’re worried about your car,” she said with a grin, “I promise no one will steal it.”
Was she actually flirting with his driver? “He’s fine,” Adam said. “And we have a lot to discuss.”
Her smile dissolved and there was disapproval in her tone when she said, “Well, then, come on in.”
He followed her up the steps to the porch, where she kicked off her muddy boots before opening the door and gesturing him inside. A small vestibule opened up into the great room and to the left were the stairs leading to the second floor.
The furniture was still an eclectic mix of styles and eras. Careworn, but comfortable. The only modern addition he could see was the large, flat-screen television over the fireplace. Not much else had changed. Not that he’d been there so often he would notice small differences. He could count on two hands how many times they had visited in the seven years he and Becca were married. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, despite what Katy and her parents believed.
“My parents wanted to be here to greet you, but they were held up at a cattle auction in Bellevue,” Katy told him. “They should be back within the hour.”
He had hoped to get this business out of the way, so he could return to El Paso at a decent hour. Though it was Friday, he had a long workday ahead of him tomorrow.
“Would you like a cold drink?” she asked. “Iced tea or lemonade?”
“Whatever is easiest.”
Katy turned toward the door leading to the kitchen and hollered, “Elvie! You in there?”
Several seconds passed, then the door slid open several inches and a timid looking Hispanic girl who couldn’t have been a day over sixteen peered out. When she saw Adam standing there her eyes widened, then lowered shyly, and she said in a thick accent, “Sí, Ms. Katy.”
“Elvie, this is Mr. Blair. Could you please fetch him something cold to drink, and take something out to his driver, too?”
She nodded and slipped silently back into the kitchen.
Katy looked down at her filthy clothes. “I’m a mess. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to hop into a quick shower and get cleaned up.”
“By all means.” It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere. Until her parents returned he was more or less stuck there.
“I’ll just be a few minutes. Make yourself at home.”
She left him there and headed up the stairs. With nothing to do but wait, Adam walked over to the hearth, where frame after frame of family photos sat. Adam had very few photos of his own family, and only one of his mother.
In his father’s grief, he’d taken down all the pictures of Adam’s mother after her death and stored them with the other family antiques and keepsakes in the attic of his El Paso estate. A few years later, when Adam was away at school and his father traveling in Europe, faulty wiring started a fire and the entire main house burned to the ground. Taking whatever was left of his mother with it.
At the time it was just one more reason in an ever-growing list to hate his father. When Adam got the call that he’d died, he hadn’t talked to the old man in almost five years.
He leaned in to get a closer look at a photo of Becca that had been taken at her high school graduation. She looked so young. So full of promise. He’d met her only a few years later. Her college roommate was the daughter of a family friend and Becca had accompanied them to his home for a cocktail party. Though Adam had been a decade older, he’d found her completely irresistible, and it was obvious the attraction was mutual. Though it had been against his better judgment, he asked her out, and was genuinely surprised when she declined. Few women had ever rejected his advances.
She found him attractive, she said, but needed to focus all her energy on school. She had a plan, she’d told him, a future to build, and she wouldn’t stray from that. Which made him respect her even more.
But he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer, either, so he’d persisted, and finally she agreed to one date. But only as friends. He took her to dinner and the theater. She hadn’t even kissed him goodnight, but as he drove home, he knew that he would eventually marry her. She was everything he wanted in a wife.
They saw each other several times before she finally let him kiss her, and held out for an excruciating three months before she would sleep with him. He wouldn’t say that first time had been a disappointment, exactly. It had just taken a while to get everything working smoothly. Their sex life had never been what he would call smoking hot anyway. It was more…comfortable. Besides, their relationship had been based