In The Tycoon's Bed: One Night, Two Heirs

“He did.” Rick took a breath, stared out at the lake again because he couldn’t look at Joe’s friendly, concerned face and talk about what had happened to Jeff Simpson. Hell, he didn’t want to talk about it at all. But he knew Joe wouldn’t rest until he had the story. And, because Rick was moving back home permanently, best to get it out and done now. He steeled himself against the pain and dove in.

“It was an ambush,” he said simply, knowing that there was no way in hell Joe could ever understand what it had been like. No one could who hadn’t been there. “I was on point, first man into the village. Unbelievably hot. Sweat rolling down your back under your gear, raining into your eyes until your vision blurred and burned.

“Goats and chickens were scrabbling in the dirt and a couple of kids raced by with a battered soccer ball. Everything looked normal, but I just had a … feeling that something was wrong. A second later, I spotted a shooter in a doorway and turned to take him out.” He paused for a sip of beer. “Jeff was right behind me. He spotted a sniper on the roof taking dead aim on my back. Jeff reacted fast. Took me down in a flying tackle. In a heartbeat, I was facedown on the street eating dirt while gunfire erupted all around us—and Jeff took the bullet meant for me.”

Joe gave a heavy sigh, then slapped his hand against Rick’s back. “I can’t know how hard that was for you, buddy. Nobody can. But I’m grateful to Jeff.”

Rick turned his head to smile at his old friend. “Yeah,” he said. “So am I. Doesn’t make it any easier to live with though.”

“Can’t imagine it would.” A second later, Joe whooped and grabbed his pole. “Finally got a bite. Looks like fish for supper.”

Rick watched Joe reel in a huge bass and thought that there was more he hadn’t told his old friend. But what was said in the last few moments of Jeff Simpson’s life was nobody else’s business. In his mind, Rick heard his friend’s strained whisper. Saw the pleading in his eyes and mentally added bricks to the wall he had built around his own heart that day.

Looking around him again, Rick felt the peace of his home ranch slide into him once more, easing the tattered edges of his soul. He took a breath of hot summer air and smiled to himself as he thought that, yeah, he was especially grateful to Jeff Simpson. And maybe that’s the main reason Rick was going to leave the Corps. He didn’t want to waste the life that Jeff had made possible.

He had a chance here, for more than he ever could have hoped for.

And he was going to take it.

Nine (#ulink_3fcb8f2b-9d3e-5248-8b4f-7e211fb86b1f)

Later that night, Sadie arrived back at the Price family home exhausted. She’d spent most of the day with Abby, decorating the club for the upcoming TCC Founder’s Day dinner and dance. The annual event was the highlight of the year in Royal. Every member of the club would be there with their families, and Abby was bound and determined that this year would be something special.

And once Abby had her mind made up, Sadie thought with a smile, nothing could stop her. Not even Brad—who had, of course, shown up to protest everything they were doing.

“There’s nothing wrong with the decorations we use every year,” he had said, flatly challenging Abby to fight him on it.

He wasn’t disappointed. Abby had climbed down from the ladder she was using to string twists of blue-and-gold crepe paper across the ceiling. Fisting her hands on her hips, she had faced him down.

“And then we can have the same food, the same wine and maybe even the same songs. Heck,” Abby told him, “we don’t even have to hold new dances, we can just videotape it and play it for the members every year. That way nothing will ever change and you’ll finally be happy.”

“Tradition means something in Texas,” Brad had argued.

“Progress means something here, too,” Abby countered. “Else we’d all still be riding horses and sending telegrams instead of emails!”

“Progress for progress’s sake means nothing.”

“Holding on to tradition because you’re too cowardly to change means even less.”

Sadie smiled just thinking about how her brother’s face had frozen into a mask of frustration and barely reined-in temper. It was at that point that Brad had stormed from the club, looking as if he was about to explode. To be fair, Abby hadn’t been doing any better by the time he left. It was a good hour and a half before Sadie’s friend was able to talk without grumbling.

“The man just doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,” Sadie said aloud.

She parked just opposite the front door, shut the engine off and dragged herself out of the car. She just stood there for a long minute, leaning against her SUV, looking up at the night sky, too tired to even walk the short distance to the house. Abby was a hard taskmaster, but Sadie knew this ball was going to be the best one ever.

But, time was passing and she still had to get inside and give the girls their bath and tuck them into bed.

Smiling, she forced herself toward the house only to stop when the front door was flung open. Her father stood in the open doorway, backlit by the hall light.

“Dad.” Pleasure warred with a sinking sensation in her chest. She loved her father, but had figured out a long time ago that she was simply never going to be the daughter he wanted her to be. “When did you get home?”

“This afternoon.” In his seventies, Robert Price was still a handsome man. His hair was mostly silver now, but he stood tall and straight and still carried the air of authority that had ruled Sadie’s entire life.

Summoning a smile, she walked to him, went on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It’s good to see you. Did you enjoy the Caribbean? Catch lots of fish?”

“I did,” he said grudgingly. “Until I arrived home expecting to get a little time with my granddaughters only to find they’re not here.”

A ball of lead dropped into the pit of her stomach. Panic clutched at her heart. “Not here? What do you mean they’re not here? They have to be here. Hannah babysat them for me today while I was at the club with Abby and—”

None of that mattered. Nothing mattered but finding her daughters. Where was Hannah? What could have happened?

She pushed past her father, headed for the staircase, to the girls’ room, but her father’s stern, no-nonsense voice stopped her dead.

“Don’t bother, they’re not in their room. Hannah tells me their father picked them up this afternoon and took them out to his ranch.”

Slowly, Sadie turned around to face her father. His cool blue eyes were glinting with disapproval. The lead ball in her stomach iced over, then caught fire in a splintering shower of fury that swept through her in such a rush she could hardly draw a breath.

“He did what?”

“You heard me, Sadie. Rick Pruitt picked up the girls and took them home with him.” Frowning, he asked, “Is this going to be a regular thing now? Are the girls going to be tossed back and forth between you two with no notice at all?”

“No,” she told him, feeling the fire of her anger slide through her veins. “They’re not.”

“Hannah tells me that Pruitt has proposed to you.”

“He did.” Sadie was already walking out of the house, the heels of her sandals clacking noisily against the floor. Her father kept pace with her, out the door, down the porch steps and across the driveway.

Robert slapped one big hand on the car door to hold it closed when Sadie tried to wrestle it open. “And you turned him down?”

“I did.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” he bellowed. “The Pruitt boy wouldn’t have been my first choice, but you made that decision when you conceived your girls. Now he’s here, ready to do his duty and you tell him no?”

“I am so bloody sick of the word duty!” Sadie shouted it and almost enjoyed seeing the shock written on her father’s expression.

“I’ll thank you not to raise your voice to me,” Robert said coolly.

“It’s the only way you’ll ever hear me, Dad,” she snapped. “I am no one’s duty. I won’t be forced into marriage. Not again.”

This time, her father at least had the grace to look abashed. After all, it had been he who had forced her to marry Taylor. The man who had shown Sadie up close and personal just how humiliating a life could get.

“You owe it to your children—”

“That’s right, Dad,” she interrupted him and felt a rush of power inside her. She’d never stood up to him before and at that moment, she couldn’t for the life of her fathom why not. “The girls are my children. Not yours. I’ll make the decisions concerning them and I don’t need any help. Not from you. Not from Rick Pruitt.”

“You’re obviously overwrought,” Robert said.

“No, Dad,” she countered, “I’m not overwrought. I’m pissed.” She deliberately used a word she knew her father would find distasteful and felt another wash of freedom sweep through her.