The Paternity Pact (Texas Cattleman's Club: Rags to Riches 3)

One

“Well, I must say,” declared Rose Everett-Schuster, “I’m shocked to see you here tonight.”

The evening’s wine tasting, silent auction and fashion show at Spoon and Stable, a French-inspired café on Royal’s main square, had been organized by Beth Wingate in support of her younger sister Harley’s nonprofit organization, Zest, which operated in various overseas countries.

“I donated a case of 2014 Château Pierre de Dupré Medoc for the tasting,” Grant Everett replied, knowing that offering his sister, Rose, a deliberate nonanswer would only intensify her curiosity. He maintained a bland expression even as his pulse accelerated when his peripheral vision caught his older sister’s raised eyebrows and pointed gaze. “As well as a 2016 Château Margaux Bordeaux for the silent auction.”

“I’m not sure that a wine donation fully explains what prompted our town’s leading fertility specialist to leave his ivory tower and mingle with the masses,” Rose said. “There must be something special about this particular charity that brought you out tonight.”

Except for a single colossal bungle that he’d kept to himself these last five years, he wasn’t a man given to secrets. Not that he was an open book. Grant didn’t run around sharing his thoughts and opinions like sticks of gum, and as a medical professional, he strictly adhered to doctor/patient confidentiality.

Muttering under his breath, he cursed the impulse that compelled him to show up at a benefit for Zest when he rarely put in an appearance at any of the other charity events Rose invited him to. He had little patience for crowds or small talk and preferred to make his philanthropic contributions by way of his checkbook. But what explanation could he give that would satisfy his sister without betraying the real reason Zest had been on his radar since its inception three years earlier?

“It’s a good cause,” he retorted.

“They’re all good causes,” Rose drawled, displaying a dogged determination to pull some sort of admission from him. “The only thing that makes this one different is that this particular party benefits Harley Wingate’s nonprofit.”

“I’m not following you,” Grant said, giving his sister his full attention.

Although Rose kept her eyes and ears open to glean news about Royal’s wealthiest families, accumulating tidbits of gossip about everyone gathered here tonight, he suspected she was merely fishing. She couldn’t possibly know how he felt about the Wingate family’s youngest daughter. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could define his conflicted emotions whenever she popped into his thoughts.

“A certain prodigal daughter who has recently returned home after mysteriously disappearing abroad.”

“Who?” It was a weak comeback and from the way his sister’s gaze drilled into him, Grant recognized that he wasn’t fooling her.

“You know,” Rose prompted. “The woman you disappeared with after the annual TCC ball five years earlier? And spent the weekend with.”

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p; “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rose’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk at whatever insight she gleaned from his expression. “Everyone wondered why she left Royal so suddenly a few weeks later.”

“That had nothing to do with me,” he countered, noting that his voice sounded a shade too abrupt. He silently cursed that he’d been provoked into explaining himself. Normally, Grant wouldn’t let his sister’s ribbing get under his skin, but what had happened with Harley and how he’d behaved during their last encounter filled him with regret.

“You changed after she left.”

“Changed how?”

“You married Paisley,” Rose went on in a more sympathetic tone. “And after realizing what a mistake that was, threw yourself even deeper into work.”

At the mention of his ex-wife, he tossed back the last of his scotch and grimaced as it burned his throat. Although this was only his second drink of the night, he’d consumed both in a short span of time and could feel the alcohol buzzing in his system, awakening his emotions and unraveling his ability to use logic to stop his sister from intruding on his private pain.

Grant pivoted away from his sister and allowed his gaze to roam the restaurant. “I don’t want to discuss Paisley.”

Their three-year marriage had given him an all-too-clear picture of his shortcomings when it came to romantic relationships. He’d lost count of how many times she’d accused him of lacking a heart and proclaimed that he’d never loved her. Not once had he argued the opposite. In truth, he’d chosen to marry Paisley based on her attractiveness and suitability as the wife of a successful doctor and a member of one of Royal’s wealthiest families. Too late, he’d discovered that she’d believed her love could change him into the adoring family man she needed. Instead, her suffocating attentiveness drove him to spend even longer hours at the hospital.

“I know that you hate to fail and what happened in your marriage is a sore spot with you,” Rose said softly. “I just hope that you realize that trying again with the right woman will make all the difference.”

Grant shook his head, wishing he could make his sister understand that his tendency to prioritize his work over relationships kept him from being husband and/or father material. He would just have to be satisfied with making other families’ dreams come true.

“I must say, I’m quite impressed.” A petite dark-haired woman had appeared on Rose’s left, providing a much-welcomed interruption. Henrietta Sinclair pointed at the jewel-bright sundress created by the women of Zest and modeled by her daughter Regan, along with a dozen of the town’s best-known fashionistas. “The entire collection is beautiful and so well made.”

“All the fabric used is organic cotton with vegetable dyes,” Rose said, highlighting the talking points from the brochure in her hands.

“What Harley Wingate has done is just marvelous,” Henrietta murmured. “Her family should be so proud.”

“Yes,” Rose murmured. “I imagine that given the girl she was before she left town, none of them expected her to amount to much.”

This last remark from Rose grated on Grant’s nerves and he used his sister’s distraction to excuse himself and slip away. As he wandered through the crowd, he noted that several faces reflected surprise as he strode past. Although he was well-known by this particular crowd because of his philanthropy, his expertise as a fertility specialist and his membership in the Texas Cattleman’s Club, the fact that he’d attended less than a handful of social events since his divorce meant his appearance tonight had stirred up people’s curiosity.

He doubted anyone besides Rose would guess he’d shown up at this particular event because of Harley Wingate. Or that she’d been the woman who’d inspired his atypical behavior at that fateful Texas Cattlemen’s Club ball. The two friends he’d been standing between had no clue that his heart had given an explosive bang when he’d first spied her. Between his discretion and their thirteen-year age difference—an important detail he hadn’t known at the time—no one would’ve imagined he’d be attracted to a girl who’d just graduated from high school. Much less that he would spend the next two days in bed with her.

Grant shuddered as he replayed how he’d felt when he’d learned the truth. He’d abruptly ended their weekend together, horrified by the image of himself as a corruptor of innocents. Not that he would use that word to describe Harley. Quite the opposite. In a slinky dress of peacock blue that skimmed her slim figure while baring her delicate shoulders and well-toned arms, Harley had moved about the ball with the confidence of a woman aware of the sensual power she wielded. In the aftermath of their weekend together, he’d realized that she’d pursued him with the same focused intent of a bounty hunter on the trail of a big score.