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THE TEXAS BILLIONAIRE’S BRIDE

Zane had just opened his mouth to ask if Melanie was set to leave when the women parted to reveal the nanny in the midst of them.

The words lodged in his chest, then began pumping like a conflicting heartbeat.

Her blonde hair was swept back into a graceful chignon, which complemented the slim lines of a short jacket and long cigarette skirt worthy of Jackie O. Her makeup was elegant, bringing out the breathtaking blue of her eyes and the lovely heart shape of her face.

She fitted the role of a princess and, for a taboo instant, he envisioned her on his arm at a charity event, shining like the brightest of stars.

Seconds must’ve passed. Maybe even minutes. And during each escalating heartbeat, he kept himself from saying something he would regret to this new woman, even if, under the makeup and clothing, she was still the same lady who’d hooked his attention that first day.

THE TEXAS BODYGUARD’S PROPOSAL

Impulsively, she held the apple out to Rafe and asked, “Would you like a bite?”

She expected some joke about Adam and Eve, or a retreat on his part. That’s what he usually did if she didn’t do it first.

But instead of retreating, he leaned forwards, clasped his hand under hers, and took a bite of the apple. The world stopped and then seemed to move in slow motion as Rafe chewed his bite of the apple, his gaze on hers the whole time. Her stomach somersaulted, and any coherent thought she possessed vanished. A breeze blew between them, awakening everything about the moment.

He reached for the apple, took it, then set it aside on the balcony ledge. “What do you want, Gabby?” he asked as if he really wanted to know.

Boldly she replied, “I want you to kiss me again.”

The Texas Billionaire’s Bride

by

Crystal Green
The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal

by

Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Available in September 2010

from Mills & Boon®

Special Moments™

The Texas Billionaire’s Bride

by Crystal Green

&

The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal

by Karen Rose Smith

Kids on the Doorstep

by Kimberly Van Meter

&

Cop on Loan

by Jeannie Watt

The Texan’s Tennessee Romance

by Gina Wilkins

&

The Rancher & the Reluctant Princess

by Christine Flynn

Loving the Right Brother

by Marie Ferrarella

A Weaver Baby

by Allison Leigh

A Small-Town Temptation

by Terry McLaughlin

A Not-So-Perfect Past

by Beth Andrews

The Texas Billionaire’s Bride

by

Crystal Green

CRYSTAL GREEN lives near Las Vegas, Nevada, where she writes for Mills & Boon® Special Edition and Blaze®. She loves to read, overanalyse movies, do yoga and write about her travels and obsessions on her website, www.crystal-green.com. There you can read about her trips on Route 66, as well as visits to Japan and Italy. She loves to hear from her readers by e-mail through the “Contact Crystal” feature.

To Gail Chasan, who reigns over these stories that have provided all of us with so much life, love and happiness.

Thank you, Gail!

Chapter One

The toughest tycoon in Texas.

That’s how Melanie Grandy’s prospective employer had been described, to one extent or another, in nearly every article she’d read on the Internet before her quick trip down here.

Thing was, those articles had also painted Zane Foley as a slightly mysterious man who didn’t talk about his personal life to the press, even if he led such a public existence otherwise.

But if anyone understood secrets, it was Melanie.

Sitting at one end of a long mahogany table, she watched the head of Foley Industries saunter over the hardwood living room floor of his luxurious Dallas townhouse while he flipped through her personal portfolio, which showed her creative side.

Lordy, it was hard to keep her eyes off of him, although she knew she should.

Yet…

Well, she couldn’t help but notice the details. His dark hair was obviously cut at a pricey salon, but in spite of its neatness, some of the ends flipped up ever so slightly near his nape. It made her suspect that he hadn’t caught the deviation, and as soon as he did, those ends would be right back in place.

He was also very tall, with broad shoulders stretching a fine white shirt he probably had made to order. His chest was wide, his torso tapering down to a honed waist, his legs long. She didn’t know much about his hobbies, but she could imagine him getting fit while horseback riding, could see him sitting tall in a saddle, just as easily as he no doubt commanded a boardroom.

During his scan of her portfolio—he’d seen it during their initial interview two days ago, so was he only perusing it to make her squirm?—Melanie took the opportunity to read between the lines of his silence.

And, boy, did he ever enjoy his silence.

He’d stopped at the other end of the room in front of a stained-glass window, the subdued early May colors bathing him as he glanced over at her. Dark leather furniture surrounded him with a Gothic stillness, each piece angled just so.

Caught checking him out, Melanie’s stomach flip-flopped, but she nonetheless sat straight in her chair, under the intense scan of his hazel eyes.

Probably, it was a bad idea to let her could-be boss know that she’d been assessing him, yet she didn’t want him to think she was the type to look away or back down. She was here to get this job, taking care of his six-year-old daughter, Olivia, whom she’d met briefly during the previous interview.

And Melanie was going to win him over, just as his daughter had thoroughly won her at first sight.

Calming her fluttering nerves, she watched as he coolly refocused on her file, as if he’d only glanced her way to take her measure when she’d least expected it.

But was there some satisfaction in his expression?

Had she passed the pop quiz?

“Oklahoma,” he said, apropos of nothing. But he’d done it in a low, rich voice that smoothed over her skin just as if he’d bent real close and whispered in her ear.

Melanie made sure her own tone didn’t betray that she’d been affected. “I was born and raised just on the outskirts of Tulsa.”

They’d covered these basics during their first meeting, and she knew he’d combed through the dossier she’d presented to him, as well. Over these past couple of days, he’d no doubt checked her references, which she knew would speak for themselves. After all, she’d been recommended to him by a business associate he trusted, and that was most likely the only reason she’d gotten her discount-rack shoes in the front door.

Why did she have the feeling that he was going over her information again, just to see if she’d trip up?

Or maybe she was being paranoid. That tended to happen to folks who might have something to hide…

He wasn’t saying anything, so she continued talking, supplying more personal details than she had the other day. “It was just me and my mom at first. She put me through day care by keeping the books at a small business, and the minute I was old enough, I dealt with the household after school hours.”

Melanie didn’t add that those books her mom had kept were located in the back room of the greasy spoon where Leigh Grandy primarily waited on tables between double shifts and numerous dates with the “nice men” she brought home for “sleepovers.” In fact, Melanie wasn’t even sure which date was her father in the first place; she just knew that he hadn’t stuck around.

Now Zane Foley moved toward the long table where Melanie sat, nearing the other end, which seemed a mile away. It lent enough distance for her to risk another lingering glance at him while he closed her portfolio, placed it on the table, then picked up her dossier.

Darn, he’s handsome, she thought before forcing herself to get back into interview mode. But the notion wouldn’t go away, brushing through her belly and warming her in areas that should have come with “off-limits” signs.

She would be the nanny, he would be the boss. End of story, if she should be so lucky as to be hired.

“Your information,” he said, his gaze still on the papers, “indicates that you started a child-care career early. I’d like to know a little more about your brothers and sisters and how they led to your choice of profession.”

“Actually, they were my stepbrothers and stepsisters.”

“I stand corrected.”

She smiled, avoiding any hardball, but still not standing down.

He didn’t smile at all, yet she was getting used to that.

“My mom married the man she called her ‘true love’ when I was fifteen.” It was wonder enough that her mother had finally settled down, but it was even more amazing that her marriage was still intact today. “He had four children. Two of them were much younger than I was—little girls—so I watched over them, in addition to other work. The older two were twin boys, but they weren’t around much, because they liked their sports.”

Zane Foley cocked a dark eyebrow as he leveled a look at her. “‘Were’ younger? ‘Were’ twin boys?”

Melanie tightened her fingers where they were clasped on the table.

He sat in the leather armchair at the other end, perfectly comfortable with being the inquisitor.

Please let me get through this, she thought. She’d spent nearly every last penny in her bank account to get here, traveling to Dallas for these interviews, in the hope that her lucky stars would shine and she’d secure this new job, this new direction.

“You keep using the past tense when you talk about your stepsiblings, Ms. Grandy,” Zane Foley said.

“My mistake.” She was determined to keep smiling. “We all still keep tabs on each other, even though we’re adults.” If you counted the odd e-mail as healthy familial relations.

But since she’d left her brood back in Oklahoma, they were the past to Melanie. She was the same to them, too, except for her mom, who called quite often for loans.

When her mother remarried, Melanie had ended up in the valley of a no-man’s land. Her stepfather had preferred his own kids to her, making no secret about his feelings, either. To him, she was his wife’s “bastard issue,” and instead of taking out his frustrations about that on Leigh, he’d put it all on Melanie.

Of course, Melanie had approached her mom about this, actually thinking that it would help if Leigh were to address it. Silly her. Her mother had only accused Melanie of trying to sabotage the happiness she’d finally found.

It’d been a stunning moment of betrayal—an instant in which Melanie had realized that her mother would always prefer her guys to her daughter, who’d worked so, so hard to matter more than any of those “nice men.”

“When I was a teen,” she added, directing the interview back to the more positive aspects of her life, “I took courses at the YMCA for babysitting, and you could say I managed a cottage industry early on. I was booked every weekend, and even during the week, if I could handle it with my studies.”

“Evidently, you could, because you aced your classes in school. You graduated with honors, in fact.”

“I knew I’d never get anywhere without a good education.”

She’d supplied her school records for him, and she was sure someone on his staff had already double-checked those, as well as her employment history.

She only hoped that the one job she’d left off her résumé wouldn’t come back to dog her—a gig that had gotten her through college. A paycheck-earner that she preferred to leave behind with the rest of her past.

Her time as a showgirl in what she now considered to be a seedy off-Strip casino in Vegas.

She blew out a breath, continuing, praying she wouldn’t give herself away. “Besides babysitting, I took up waiting tables at a burger joint after classes. But I was known as the go-to babysitter of the neighborhood, and that got me more and more jobs. So I gravitated toward that, since I think I was good at it.” She laughed a little. “Besides, I could charge more than I made in a restaurant that catered to teens, where the tips were…lacking.”

“Industrious,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if it was just a random comment, or if he was truly impressed.

After all, the Foleys were known far and wide for rolling up their shirtsleeves and working for their fortune. They were self-made men, and Melanie was hoping he would want that in the nanny who was raising his child, too.

“I saved every dollar,” she added, “splurging only on my dancing lessons. Lots of them. I couldn’t go without.”

“We all need an outlet,” he said, but he sounded distracted as he looked at the dossier again.

At his next question, she knew they’d entered the most dangerous part of the interview.

“Why did you head toward Vegas right after graduating high school?”

Nerves prickled her skin. “I’d heard the economy was booming at the time, and the opportunity seemed ripe for the taking. The waitress job I got in a local café paid far more in tips than I’d ever made before.”

He didn’t answer, as if expecting more.

She smiled again, giving as good as she was getting. “Didn’t you also gravitate there for the same general reason, Mr. Foley? You’ve developed several projects in the area.”

Maybe it was her chutzpah, but a slight grin tilted his mouth.

That was his only answer, and it disappeared before Melanie could be sure she’d even seen it. Then he was right back in boss-man mode, scribbling some notes on the cover of her dossier.

Was he thinking that she was naïve for dropping everything and heading to Vegas, just as thousands of dreamers without his kind of money had done before her? Get rich quick. Double your income with the right gambles.

And gamble she had, just not with money.

She’d been “discovered” one night when she went out dancing with some fellow students from community college. A talent coordinator from The Grand Illusion casino had given her his business card, inviting her to an audition.

At first, she’d denied him, thinking that her waitress job would hold her. Then her mom had started to write her, asking for loans, and in spite of how Melanie had wanted to escape Oklahoma, she couldn’t say no to helping out the family.

And that’s when she’d decided to audition. The Grand Illusion had a small, fairly cheesy revue that was half bawdy magic and half sexy musical, although nothing distasteful. Heck, no one even took off their sequined tops. She told herself she probably wouldn’t make it anyway. Yet, much to her surprise, she’d breezed through the process, with them offering her a modest wage and, more importantly, the promise of open days during which she could keep going to school and wait a few tables.

It was an ideal setup, and it wasn’t as if she was doing any exotic dancing. Just as soon as she had her degree, she’d be done with it anyway.

When she had the degree under her belt, she quit dancing, just as she’d promised herself, and she’d signed on for her first nanny job, thanks to a glowing recommendation from her advisor to his personal friend.

Her employer had been an affluent single mom, a prominent business developer who was in dire need of a helper; and it’d been the perfect job for years, until Melanie’s boss got married and decided to become a stay-at-home mother.

And that’s how Melanie had come to Dallas at the age of twenty-eight—because her first employer had worked with Zane Foley on the development of a Vegas mega apartment-village complex, and when the businesswoman heard that his latest nanny had quit and he needed to hire another one pronto, she’d given him Melanie’s name.

He nudged the dossier away from him and, for a heavy moment, Melanie wondered if Zane Foley, a man who seemed to cover every base, had dug deep enough into her life to expose her crowded double-wide-trailer beginnings and dancing days.

Was he going to spring it on her now?

“As you’ve heard from Andrea Sandoval,” he finally said, referring to Melanie’s first nanny employer, “I’m eager to get someone in place to care for my daughter. And you almost seem too good to be true, Ms. Grandy, dropping into my lap like this.”

She felt heat creeping over her face, mainly because she could just imagine what it might be like to drop into his lap—Lord have mercy—yet also because she didn’t want to panic at what he might’ve uncovered.

“No one’s perfect, Mr. Foley,” she said, hoping he would agree.

He didn’t, so she kept talking, seeing if she could maybe use a little flattery as backup.

“Although,” she said, “your family seems to come close enough to perfect as it gets.”

He remained distant, over on his side of the table. “We’re hardly perfect.”

“Then you should tell your PR people to stop selling that image,” she said lightly. “The media seems to think that the Foleys are the epitome of what’s good about our country.”

His tone grew taut. “You’ve been looking into my family, have you?”

How could she deny it? News about the business doings of the Foleys, whose holdings had started from a few oil rigs to an empire based on prime real estate and media interests, was legion. Then there were all their charitable causes, behind-the-scenes political power plays and even the social adventures of Zane’s brother, Jason. Hard to ignore, when the media—and the nation—was fascinated with them, even if Zane, himself, tended to avoid the limelight.

“I only did my research,” she said, “because I need to make sure you’re the right family for me, just as you’re making sure I’m right for you.”

Her smile returned full force, but not because she was trying to win him over this time. She was remembering the freckled nose and doe eyes of his daughter. There’d only been a short introduction, yet it’d been enough to convince Melanie that she didn’t belong anywhere else in this world. Something about Olivia had profoundly tugged at Melanie, maybe because the girl reminded her of herself—a little lost and isolated.

Zane Foley didn’t return her smile. In fact, he seemed intent on avoiding it, while the sun from outside shifted enough to slant a patch of red from the stained glass over the strong angles of his face.

Her chest went tight.

“I like your optimism,” he said. “You’d need quite a bit of it with Livie, you know. As I pointed out during our first interview, she’s gone through five nannies in six years.”

“I remember.” Her former employer had already cautioned Melanie. After Olivia’s mom had passed away, the girl had rejected everyone she perceived to be taking her mom’s place.

Melanie had known from the start that this wouldn’t be an easy job; but she wanted to make a difference in the girl’s life, because she sure wished someone had made a difference earlier in her own.

“My daughter’s a handful,” he said. “I’ll make no bones about that.”

“I’ve got more perseverance than you can imagine.”

“Your predecessors thought they had it, too. And on their way out the door, most of them even told me that I ought to think about applying some of that perseverance I show in my own business to my household.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Just to give you fair warning, I don’t employ nannies to get advice from them.”

Melanie kept eye contact, thinking that there was a chink in the steeliness of his gaze—a darkness that showed more than just that notorious arrogance.

“Mr. Foley,” she said softly, “I’d never presume to judge anyone.”

He stared at her a beat longer, then sat back in his chair again, even though he didn’t let up with his gaze. It held her, screwed into her, until a slight thrill traveled her veins.

“The family businesses are important to me,” he said. “Among other things, they’re Livie’s legacy, and I intend to give her a great one. As an only child, she’ll take over all of my share one day, the oil holdings, as well as real-estate interests.”

He said it as if he planned to never get married or have children again. In some weird way, that got to Melanie.

But…jeez. Like she should even be mulling over his most intimate decisions.

“I’m sure your daughter will be grateful for everything you do,” she said.

“You should also know that I spend a lot of time defending our investments, not just building them up. That’s what takes up the majority of my schedule, and the work’s too important for me to spend as much time in Austin with Livie as most people expect.”

“Right,” she said, figuring she would show him just how much research she’d done. “I read that you have to defend against people like the McCords.”

His mouth tightened once more, this time at the name of the family who’d been taking part in a well-known feud with the Foleys for generations.

Oops. She made a mental note never to mention them again.

Zane Foley seemed eager to be rid of the subject. “The bottom line is this—my commitments require a lot of me, and that’s why I need someone to depend on for Livie. Someone who’s more or less my proxy, enforcing my rules and raising her the way I need her to be raised.”

She chafed at his authoritarian tone. What was his daughter to him—another project to develop, like the ones he oversaw in his office?

But Olivia—Livie—was a little girl, and—from what Melanie had seen in her eyes, even for the few minutes they’d conversed—she needed more than rules and routines.

Melanie was on the cusp of saying so when she remembered how much she wanted this job.

“I understand, Mr. Foley,” she said instead, keeping the peace, even if she didn’t really understand him at all.

He gave her one last look from those striking hazel eyes, and she fortified herself against it—almost successfully, too. He only got her tummy to flip one more time.

Then he rose from his chair, leaving her dossier and portfolio on the table.

Melanie held her breath. Was the interview over?

But he only walked away from the table, toward the hushed hallway.

When he saw that she wasn’t following, he waited, and she realized that he wanted her to come, too.

Okay then.

As she stood, she grabbed her suit jacket from the back of her chair, then smoothed down the skirt of the only conservative business outfit she owned.

She made her way across the room to him, her heels clopping on the hard floor, echoing way too loudly for her comfort.

He avoided the door and led her down the hall.

Where was he taking her?

“Livie will receive a full education,” he said, beginning to fire off his expectations, “even when she’s not in school.”

“I’m prepared to teach Livie,” she said, excitement churning. He was going to make an offer! “With Ms. Sandoval’s daughter, Toni, I planned a different learning experience every day, and doing the same here would be wonderful.”

“Livie would benefit from your dance background in particular.”

Melanie’s blood jolted, but then she realized he was probably talking about all the classes, from ballet to jazz to hip-hop, she’d taken. “Livie has taken dance before?”

“No, but she needs to let out her energy in a constructive manner.”

“I see.”

“Other than that, her schedule is set. Firm. Don’t deviate from it, because she responds well to structure. It might be your biggest saving grace.”

Based on Zane Foley’s well-ordered townhouse, as well as all his comments, Melanie wondered if, when she arrived in Austin, she would find Livie inhabiting something like a high-class jail.

Fuming inwardly, she told herself to stay quiet. You want this job, you need this job, so keep your opinions to yourself for now.

They came to what looked to be a study, with more dark, finely etched antique furniture carefully placed about the room: a desk set that held a laptop computer and organized files, a curio cabinet, shelves teeming with leather-bound books that lent the air a thick, musty scent.

There were also large, framed paintings on the walls, the biggest being an old family portrait of the Foleys that featured brothers Jason and Travis, both of whom couldn’t have been more than ten years old at the time, even though Travis looked a little younger. They stood next to their dad, Rex, an affable looking man with a charming grin. Then there was Olivia Marie, their deceased mom, who wore her own gentle smile as she hooked her arm through Rex’s.

On the fringes of them all was Zane, who even in his early teens seemed to carry himself with a combination of cockiness and seriousness.

When Melanie glanced away from the portrait, she found that Zane was behind her, standing in front of a different painting. Livie’s.

A recent depiction of a sweet little girl in a pink dress, her wavy dark hair held back by a lacy headband. She smiled faintly and held a stuffed lamb.

The picture got to Melanie, yet it was the expression on Zane’s face that just about melted her altogether.

Naked love and devotion.

But then it turned into something else—destruction—and Melanie wondered what could have possibly turned one emotion into the other so quickly.

As Zane stared at his daughter’s portrait, he wasn’t seeing Livie so much as someone else entirely. Danielle.

His wife, dead six years now, but still so agonizingly alive in the face of his daughter.

He couldn’t stand the questions that always came afterward: would Livie grow up to be just like her mother? Would his daughter break her own husband’s heart someday, too?

Would she have the same mood swings—from dark to manic—that had escalated into that awful day when Danielle had taken her own life?

He glanced away, his attention locking on the svelte figure of Melanie Grandy. With sunny blond hair that swept her shoulders and blue eyes that seemed to sparkle even when she wasn’t smiling, she was the opposite of Danielle and Livie. But from her heart-shaped face to her ill-fitting blue business suit that he supposed she’d purchased just for these interviews—she’d worn the skirt the other day, too—he got the impression of vulnerability. A leggy wisp of a woman, she might not be so different from Danielle after all.

At his inspection, she raised her chin, a habit he’d become familiar with even during their short acquaintance.

No, this woman had a core to her. She also had an innate dignity that sent a buzz of heat through his veins.

Raw beauty, he thought, flashes of an unpolished diamond lighting his mind’s eye.

But the glare of it made him realize that there was no room for any kind of attraction, especially since she seemed to be a perfect fit for Livie. And thank God for Andrea Sandoval’s timely reference, because the last nanny had quit, leaving Zane at loose ends. He’d needed a quick hire, and since Ms. Grandy didn’t have a criminal record and had come with the highest recommendation from a family friend, he seized the opportunity.

It was just a bonus that his daughter would match well with her new nanny. Livie required someone with spine enough to stand tall and firm, as Ms. Grandy had gracefully done throughout their interviews.

He chanced one last, long second of looking at her, turning the air into a humid fog.

And she seemed to feel it, too. He could’ve sworn it, because she set her jacket on a nearby end table and folded her hands in front of her while concentrating on the picture, a pink tint to her cheeks.

He got back to business, as well.

Always business. Safer that way.

He moved toward his computer, then woke it out of hibernation mode. He’d brought Ms. Grandy into his study to show her the virtual layout of the Austin estate where Livie resided, but even so, he held off on opening the computer file.

She was still back at Livie’s portrait.

“She’s a beautiful child,” Ms. Grandy said, and he could sense that she was being genuine in the compliment. “I can’t wait to start our first day, maybe with some art, where she can express ideas that she might be too shy to say out loud right away.”

“The last time a nanny got the paint out she was scrubbing it off Livie for what seemed like hours. It was even supposed to be washable.”

He could see a battle playing over Melanie Grandy’s face, and it wasn’t the first time. She was clearly wondering if she should put in her own two cents about her child-rearing philosophies, instead of listening to his own cynical point of view.

The other nannies had always kept quiet, but when Ms. Grandy spoke, he was pleasantly surprised that she even dared, although it raised his hackles, as well.

“I’m not afraid of some extra cleanup,” she said, “if it’s the result of something positive for Livie. Maybe she’s the type who would benefit from stepping out of that structure she’s so used to?”

Now he wasn’t even pleasantly surprised with her.

She obviously noticed. “Mr. Foley, I’m not suggesting anything radical. I’m only interested in getting to know Livie.”

He didn’t tell Ms. Grandy that, aside from that one out-of-control paint day, his daughter generally liked to keep her dresses and hands clean—and it wasn’t just at his insistence.

Or was it?

Guilt set in, just as it always did when he thought too hard about how he’d raised—or not raised—his girl. That’s why it was better that he’d adopted such a hands-off policy; he was far more adequate at shaping Foley Industries and concentrating on other important matters, like keeping those damned McCords in line.

Plus, he didn’t know anything about females at all. That was apparent from what he’d let happen to Danielle.

Melanie was still smiling as she looked at his daughter’s portrait, and his heart cracked at how a stranger could so openly display emotion for Livie, when he had such a hard time himself.

He opened the computer file that contained the slides of Tall Oaks.

“Ms. Grandy,” he said.

She glanced at him, and he could see the hope in her eyes.

He didn’t let that affect him. He and hope had parted company a while ago.

“When can you start?” he asked.

She beamed with one of those warm smiles. “When do you want me, Mr. Foley?”

He couldn’t help thinking that, despite the temptation, on a personal level the answer to that would have to be “never.”

Chapter Two

After accepting the job and then rushing through a whirlwind of formalities, such as a salary agreement and a computer-aided tour of Zane Foley’s Austin estate, Melanie had followed her new employer down the hall and to the foyer, barely able to contain a bubbly grin.

Success!

Melanie Grandy, nanny for the eldest Foley’s daughter. She liked the ring of it, and when she found out that she was to be driven in a town car to her motel, where she would pick up her two pitiful suitcases before heading straight to Austin and Livie, she already felt as if she were flying first class.

Okay, maybe business class, because it wasn’t a limo, but, heck, she’d live.

As they came to a halt near a leather settee under a gilt-veined mirror, she tried not to be too aware of how their image reflected him towering over her. Tried not to get fanciful about how they stood side-by-side, a tense space the only thing separating them.

She fairly hummed from head to toe, as if charged by his presence, but…No. She’d worked hard to get here, and jeopardizing her new position by stepping out of bounds with her new boss had to be the worst idea in all creation.

She tried not to look in the mirror again: his strapping body, his Texas-noble bearing…

“The drive to Tall Oaks is nearly three and a half hours,” he said, thankfully interrupting her weakening will to stop lusting after him. “It should give my staff enough time to put together the final paperwork for your hiring and then fax whatever we need to sign.”

“I’ll look for those papers when I get there then.”

“Mrs. Howe might even have the documents in hand when you arrive. She’s got run of the house and has been taking care of Livie since the last nanny left less than a week ago.”

“I look forward to meeting everyone at Tall Oaks,” she said, extending her hand for a deal-closing shake. “Again, thank you. I was really hoping you’d choose me to be a part of Livie’s life.”

And there it was again—that flash of anguish in his gaze.

But then he took her hand in his, wrapping his long fingers around hers.

Warm, strong…

For a moment she forgot that she was supposed to be shaking his hand. He must’ve forgotten also, because the hesitation between them lasted a second too long—one in which her heartbeat fell into a suspended throb.

As she pulled in a breath, his eyes darkened back to the cool, detached gaze that had already become so familiar.

But how could she be used to anything about him when she didn’t know him at all? she reminded herself, coming to her senses and finally gripping his hand in a professional shake.

She doubted she would ever really know Zane Foley, and that was for the best.

They disengaged, and he stepped away from her. “I anticipate that you’ll be around much longer than the other five.”

As he began to walk away, she said, “I sure will.”

He paused for a moment, and she thought that maybe he was about to say something else.

But then he moved on, traveling with the ease of a shadow lengthening at sunset, until he blended into the dark of the hallway.

Melanie watched him go, her heartbeat near the surface of her skin.

But she had to get over it; this was her chance to prove that she really was better than the girl who hadn’t been expected by her stepdad to do much more than be “bastard issue.”

She exhaled, sitting on the leather settee by the door and preparing for the responsibilities ahead of her. Livie—the child who would depend on Melanie to raise her to be all she could be, too.

A stately grandfather clock stood across from her, ticking, tocking, marking the passing seconds as Melanie waited for the driver. Meanwhile, her excitement leveled off to something like a Champagne buzz.

She wondered what the Austin estate would look like in real life, how different it would be from her and her mom’s first ramshackle apartment, then the trailer that had served as home back in the day.

On a sigh, she went to grab her suit jacket and purse, preparing for the moment she would walk out this door and into the car, where she would be driven off and away to find out.

Her purse was there, but not her jacket.

She remembered that she’d brought it into Zane Foley’s study, putting it down when she’d been looking at the portrait of Livie.

Duh. She’d been too excited by the job offer to pick it back up again.

Okeydokey then. Her new boss had gone in the direction of the study, so she would just scoot back there, knock on the door, grab her jacket, then be out of his hair.

In and out.

But when she went down the hall, her body started doing the jitterbug about seeing him, heart racing, stomping.

Cool it, she told herself. In and out.

She came to the study, noticing that the door was ajar just enough for her to hear his voice. And, Heaven help her, she couldn’t resist standing there a second to bask in the appreciation of how he sounded while talking to someone on the phone.

But the more she listened, the more she felt the bass of his voice scratching down her skin, leaving her hair to rise and the heat to play all over her. She thought of what it might be like to see him smile, just once.

Would it feel like a rolling ball of sun inside her stomach? A burning ache that sizzled and made her go weaker than she was even now?

Then he stopped talking, and the person on the other end of the speakerphone started.

The different voice—still appealing, but not nearly as much as Zane Foley’s—was enough to kick her right out of fantasyland.

She rolled her eyes at herself, then prepared to knock just before her boss responded to the other person on the phone.

“I hired another nanny today.”

Melanie’s fist paused in midair.

So help her, she stood rooted there, waiting for what he might say, curiosity killing the cat.

The voice on the other end of the line laughed. “How long’s this one going to last, Zane?”

He cut him off. “Not amusing, Jason.”

Zane’s brother, and, according to everything she’d read, the scamp of the three siblings. But he also had the more solid reputation of being the hardworking chief operating officer of Foley Industries—a man who wasn’t above getting dirt underneath his fingernails or on his fine suits.

Zane was still talking. “And this time, don’t you dare suggest that we bet on her longevity.”

“Damn,” Jason said, “because if I bet she wouldn’t even last a year, just like most of the others, it’d be a smarter proposition than anything Granddad ever put his money on.” There was a pause. “So what’s this one like? Can you tell me that much?”

In spite of her better judgment, an all-too-human Melanie leaned closer to the door.

Zane was standing by a window with a showcase view of downtown Dallas, across from the gleaming Trinity River. He wasn’t sure how to answer his younger brother’s question about what he thought of Melanie Grandy.

Should he be honest?

There was something about the new nanny that made him want to tell Jason about her bright hair and brighter smile, even though he knew he wouldn’t.

With any luck, he would never see her much, anyway. Staying away from Tall Oaks was best for Livie and him.

“This nanny,” he finally answered, “enjoys using art to bring out the creativity in children. She likes dance especially, and I think that’ll be good for Livie. Ms. Grandy’s got a lot of…spirit.”

Jason, as perceptive as he was, called Zane out.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“That’s all you’re gonna get.” Zane turned away from the window and headed toward his desk. It was second in size and comfort only to the one in his downtown Dallas office, where he would be right now if it hadn’t been for the interview. “Now, I suspect you didn’t call to gab about nannies, Jace. What’s on your mind?”

“The McCords.”

Zane could almost picture his brother behind his own desk in Houston, as his voice lowered to a more serious tenor. They’d all spent too many years sharing an intense dislike of the other family for Zane not to recognize the signs of a very serious discussion about them coming on.

“Travis gave me a heads up about something I thought you’d want to hear, too,” Jason said. “It’s about his ranch.”

God, the ranch. The property had sparked a feud between the families way back when Grandpa Gavin had put the West Texas land up for grabs during a poker game that a card cheat named Harry McCord had been manipulating. To add insult to injury, the place had produced silver—the foundation for the McCord jewelry store empire, which catered to the rich and famous and was renowned worldwide as the height of luxury—the premier jewelers of the earth.

“What about the ranch?” Zane asked, an edge to his question. “We signed a long-term lease for the land after the mines were played out. The McCords have no reason to be sniffing around it just yet.”

Of course, the McCord matriarch, Eleanor, had once been courted by Zane’s father, Rex, so that might’ve had something to do with the olive branch the other family had offered. And one would think that her generosity would’ve defused the feud, but her husband, Devon, a devil who was surely getting his just desserts now, after his recent death, had still kept the animosity alive with all his talk about how he’d “won” Eleanor and Rex had lost.

“But,” Jason said, “they do seem to be sniffing, and if Grandpa Gavin were still alive, he’d be yelling like thunder. We didn’t all pitch in and make that ranch what it is, only so he could live his last years there. Dad accepted the lease because he thought you, me and Travis would benefit from what it could yield.”

“Damned straight.” Zane would sooner brave the fires of hell, before he saw the McCords relocate Travis, who’d decided to forgo family business in favor of ranching on the property that should’ve belonged to the Foleys in the first place. “It’s just like the McCords to rub salt on a wound. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just trying to remind Travis that they’re the ones who still own the property.”

“And they’ve got to know it burns him, with all the blood and sweat he’s put into it.” Jason’s tone grew even angrier. “But I’m not sure it’s just about reminding Travis of what’s what. The McCord kids are taking after the old man after all.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, when Devon passed from that heart attack, the clan actually backed off for a while. He was always the one who took the greatest pleasure in the feud. That’s what I thought, at least. Now I’m not so sure. Rumor has it that the family lawyers have been taking a real long look at the lease…”

Zane didn’t even have to hear the rest.

“…just as if they’re trying to find a way to get out of it.”

His blood ran hot at the notion of his baby brother losing what meant the most to him.

He wanted to strike out at the McCords, but as his gaze fixed on the portrait of Livie, he pulled his temper back.

Again, he saw Danielle in his daughter.

Living with a bipolar wife had taught Zane that losing his head only made everything worse. Retreating—whether it was into work or into himself—had been the best way to handle her.

She’d also taught him that there was a difference between his personal life and business. In the latter, he could uncork the frustration that built up at home, striking quickly and lethally during deals, allowing him a sorely needed outlet.

And the McCords were just asking for it.

Dragging his gaze away from Livie’s image, he refocused on the old family portrait above the fireplace. There was a measure of serenity at seeing the picture that’d been painted just before his mom, his daughter’s namesake, had suffered a fatal fall during a horseback ride. His father had tried his best to raise the three boys on his own, but they’d missed their mom terribly.

And sometimes her death even made Zane wonder if all the women in his life would leave before their time.

At any rate, her absence had bonded all of them, and it had molded Zane into a man early on, as he’d taken up where his father had to leave off in raising Jason and Travis. Even now, at the age of thirty-six, Zane felt as if he was still in charge of so much: their holdings, their tanglings with the McCords.

Jason was speaking again: “At first, I wasn’t sure why the McCords would be so interested in the ranch right now. I thought maybe they wanted to sell off the acreage, if those rumors about money trouble in their jewelry business are true. But then, what difference would that relatively small cash influx make? Then I thought about the silver mines on the property.”

“Those are abandoned, Jace. Tapped out. That’s why the McCords leased the land to us.”

“I take it that, during this latest nanny search, your ear hasn’t been to the ground.”

He stiffened until Jason chuckled, revealing that he’d only been injecting a little humor where some was sorely needed. But Zane took his duties as oldest brother seriously. Having the McCords get the best of them during his watch was never going to happen.

“One of my assistants,” Jason said, “heard that Blake McCord has been buying up as many loose canary diamonds as possible on the world market.”

Diamonds?

Zane started to see where his brother might be going with this.

Jason added, “I imagine you’re remembering those news reports from several months ago?”

“The Santa Magdalena Diamond,” Zane said. He’d filed the information in the back of his mind, way behind Livie and other more urgent matters, but he sure as hell hadn’t forgotten.

A flawless, forty-eight-carat canary gem with perfect clarity, the Santa Magdalena Diamond was legendary, said to transcend even the beauty and brilliance of the Hope Diamond itself. Supposedly, the piece had been mined in India, and was cursed, because it had resulted in bad luck for everyone who ever owned it. It was only when the gem rested with its rightful owner that any personal misfortunes would end.

The diamond had been missing for over a century, but fairly recently, divers had uncovered a wrecked ship that was supposed to have been carrying the jewel, in addition to other treasures of murky origins.

Really, the only reason the Foleys were interested in the diamond was because their great-grandfather, Elwin Foley, had been on that ship, which might have also been populated by thieves, although that never had been proven. When the transport went down, a few passengers had survived, including Elwin, and according to family stories, he’d snagged the gem, along with a jewel-encrusted chest of coins. But since no one had found either object since, the tale had passed into legend.

However, the ship’s recent discovery had resurrected all the rumors, especially since the diamond and the chest hadn’t been located.

“The Santa Magdalena Diamond came to my mind, too,” Jason said. “I’ve been going through a lot of scenarios, but the best I can figure, maybe the McCords believe that Elwin Foley did get away with the gem when he survived the wreck, and he hid the diamond somewhere on the land where Travis’s ranch is located now—land that used to belong to Elwin before it passed to Gavin, who lost it in that poker game. And don’t you think the Santa Magdalena would pay a few bills for a cash-strapped business?”

“The theory’s a stretch,” Zane said.

“But the timing’s pretty telling. The divers find the shipwreck, rumors recirculate about Elwin taking the diamond, then the McCords express a heightened interest in the property.”

“Whatever their intentions, I’m not about to let Travis be hassled by that family.”

“Glad you’re on board then.” His brother sounded as confident as ever.

Zane shot a skeptical glance at the phone. “What exactly did I board, Jace?”

Right about now, his sibling was probably grinning to himself about one of his genius ideas that kept Foley Industries in the black. “If the McCords want to give us trouble, I say we find out about it ahead of time. Cut them off at the pass.”

“Your lawyer friends—the ones who got you that information about the McCords looking into the lease—will only get us so far.”

“Exactly. I’ll be taking matters into my own hands until we know Travis isn’t in for some harassment.”

Zane waited for it.

“The McCords have a few soft spots,” Jason said, elaborating. “One of them is named Penny.”

Penny. Penelope McCord. Zane recalled one of the daughters of the other family—the quiet twin in a set of burnished blond-haired sisters. A jewelry designer who basically kept to herself.

In a contest between her and Jason, the so-called lady killer, she had no chance at all.

“What are you intending, Jace?” Not that Zane had sympathy for any McCord, but…hell, a lady was a lady, and there were limits.

“Nothing fancy. I just discovered we’ll be attending the same wedding pretty soon. I’ve done business with the groom, so he invited me to his big, high-society bash. I figured I might just happen across her table, sit myself down for a rest, offer my own sort of olive branch in polite conversation…”

“…and feel her out for what she might know, without being too obvious about it.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, and when Jason didn’t say anything, Zane knew he was probably in his desk chair, relaxing with his hands behind his head, content with the plan.

“Okay,” Zane added. “A wedding sounds like a good place to casually learn if the McCords have discovered the location of the diamond, and to find out just how true these rumors about the McCords’s finances are.”

“And if that wedding should turn into something afterward…”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Jace.”

“I’m talking about a coffee date—or whatever.”

No, his brother was talking about more than that. Zane knew how Jason loved his women, especially ones as lovely as Penny McCord.

Zane was just about to mention it, when he heard something outside the door.

“Wait a sec,” he said to his brother, then went over to check on the noise.

But…nothing.

Still, he thought he smelled a hint of sunshine-like perfume that traced the rough edges of his heart until it felt about ready to fall out of him.

Steadying himself, he closed the door to the dim hallway—and to the very idea of sunshine, too.

Melanie was halfway through the drive to Austin when her nerves finally settled.

She’d only managed to calm down by gazing out the black-tinted window at the passing scenery, as well as chattering with Monty, the town car driver, who, as she now very well knew, had four daughters with tempers as quick as their mama’s and tastes way beyond his table wine budget.

The conversation almost made her forget that she’d been standing in a hallway and eavesdropping on her boss. And that her boss had only said that she was…“spirited.”

She tried not to let that bother her, but it did. Deep inside, she’d been hoping to hear Zane Foley say that she had a great smile. She’d been wishing for a lyrical description that would’ve belonged in a song, like maybe there was something in the way she moved…

Right. Anyway, after telling herself that she was being eleven kinds of fool, she’d found that she was sitting there still listening to him and Jason talking about the McCords.

And the Santa Magdalena Diamond.

If Melanie hadn’t been confused and intrigued by her new boss before, she sure was now. Since she hadn’t been living under a rock, she’d heard about the diamond and how it had been connected to the recent shipwreck discovery. Hearing Zane and Jason discuss all of it just piled one more question upon the other questions that had been weighing in her brain about the Foleys.

Monty glanced in the rearview mirror, checking on her during a lull in their talk. On the downhill side of his thirties, he had thick-lashed, dark eyes that tipped up at the corners in perpetual good humor, dusky skin scraped by a five-o’clock shadow, and a long nose that topped a smile.

“You need me to turn the air on higher?” he asked.

She crossed one leg over the other, aiming her body in his direction and away from the window. “No thank you. It’s just…”

“Come on, spill it out to me. Long rides go by a lot quicker with a good discussion.”

He was too nice to shut out, but she wasn’t going to “spill” anything about Zane Foley.

“I remembered that I left my suit jacket back at the house,” she said instead. “Excellent start, don’t you think? Mr. Foley probably believes I don’t have a brain in me.”

Laughing, he shrugged. “Listen, once I fill up my stomach with leftovers from Cook’s fridge, I’ll be turning this baby right back around, to be on standby for Mr. Foley in Dallas. I’ll fetch that jacket for you and make sure you get it soon enough.”

“Really? I hate to be such a bother.”

He made a dismissive gesture, and she thought it was sincere.

She told him where she left the jacket, before adding, “Must be nice for Mr. Foley to have a driver whenever he needs one. He’s worked for it, I know, but what perks, huh?”

He rested his hand on top of the steering wheel. “Mr. Foley doesn’t take nearly the advantage of his good fortune as I would. Sure, he has a great place in Austin, but he uses it to house Livie more than anything else. He’s never around to enjoy it. And he has that nice town home, too. But with his money? It could’ve been a castle.”

“He never comes to Tall Oaks?”

“No. He’s not there much at all. Birthdays, Christmas, an annual fundraiser for the Dallas Children’s Hospital, and that’s about it. Mr. Foley’s a busy man, but he gives Livie what she needs otherwise.”

Yes, nannies.

Yet, as Melanie had told her boss, she wasn’t one to judge, and she needed to keep that in mind.

Monty seemed to have shut himself off from saying any more about it, so Melanie decided to pursue another avenue.

Then she would stop. Really.

“Funny how life works. I mean, if Harry McCord hadn’t cheated in that card game with Gavin Foley, the Foleys might’ve been the ones with the jewelry empire that the McCords developed.”

“True,” Monty said. “There were five abandoned silver mines on that property. Five. That’s a lot of can-noli they missed out on because their grandfather made a bad bet.” He chuckled. “But, depending on who you talk to outside the family, you’re going to get a different story about that poker game.”

“What do you mean?”

Monty looked over his shoulder, amusement written on his face, then returned his gaze to the front again. “None of this goes out of the car, understand?”

Heck, she didn’t want to summon the wrath of her coworkers by betraying them. “Absolutely.”

Her pulse got a bit louder in her ears.

“It’s sour grapes, that’s what I say. Gavin made the bet, and he should’ve owned up to it. But it must’ve been tough to see that land pay off in so much silver to the McCords.”

“I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like,” she said.

“Fortunately,” he added, “the Foleys found their own strike of luck in their East Texas oil fields, but Gavin always claimed that the McCord silver should’ve been theirs, too. The boys grew up on those sorts of tales, especially young Travis. He practically lived at his grandfather’s knee, while our Zane ran the roost over at his dad’s house.” The driver smiled. “Testosterone Lodge. That’s what they called their household after their mother passed on.”

Melanie remembered the woman in the family portrait in Zane’s study. She’d looked so gentle and caring, traits she’d never really grown up with herself.

“So,” she said, feeling an ache in her chest, “Mr. Foley—Zane—was the second man of the house, right after Rex Foley?”

“Yes, ma’am. And the absence of a woman’s guiding touch is why you have the competitive, aggressive Zane Foley, who lords it over the real estate and oil businesses. He’s the leader of the pack.”

Sitting back in the seat, Melanie allowed the image of Zane Foley’s hazel eyes to mist over her thoughts. She sighed without even knowing it, then recovered when she saw Monty watching her in the mirror.

“He’s a haunted man, too,” the driver said, as if he knew just what kind of effect the boss had on her.

Then again, she wouldn’t be surprised if he attracted every woman who came within ten feet of him.

“The missus—Danielle—did a real number on him.” Monty shook his head. “You’re going to hear about this sooner or later, being a part of the family now, so I’ll tell you. But it’s not to be talked about to anyone else.”

“I understand.”

He slumped a little in his seat. “Danielle was bipolar, and during a time when she went off her medication, she took her life.”

Melanie instinctively covered her heart with her hand. Now Zane Foley’s avoidance of discussing his personal life with the press made sense.

But what had the suicide done to Livie?

To Zane?

She recalled his devastated gaze, and she knew.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said softly.

“We were all sorry. It’s been almost six years now, but she still has an effect on every moment, every inch of space around us.”

Melanie stayed quiet. She was going to live in what amounted to a haunted house, wasn’t she? She was going to walk on the floors where Danielle had walked, brush her fingers along the same walls…

“He married her right out of high school,” Monty continued, “but a short time after that, she started showing extreme highs and lows in her mood. Mr. Foley didn’t know how to handle that, yet he did everything he could. The doctors even put her on meds, but when she went off of them…”

Melanie closed her eyes, wanting to hear, but not wanting to.

He added, “Mr. Foley isn’t a helpless kind of man. He’d always been so good at everything—school, home life, sports and then business. But he couldn’t come up with any way to aid Danielle, beyond getting her all the professional treatment he could. When she overdosed on pills, he blamed himself and buried himself in work.”

She opened her eyes. “How about Livie?”

“She was nothing more than a baby when it happened, but every year she grows to look even more like Danielle. You can imagine what that does to Mr. Foley.”

Monty didn’t say anything more, but Melanie figured out the rest of it.

Did her new boss fear that history would repeat itself? Was that why he rarely visited Livie, because he thought his daughter would be just like the mother, not only in appearance, but in everything else, too?

Most importantly, had Livie gone through five nannies in six years because she was acting out, missing a dad who found it painful to be around her?

Now the shadows in his gaze made so much sense.

Yet, as the town car purred on toward Austin, all Melanie really knew was that she was on her way to aid a young girl who needed someone to be there, to help her overcome all the anguish.

Even if that someone was a woman who was trying to leave her past behind, too.