The Texas Billionaire's Bride / The Texas Bodyguard's Proposal: The Texas Billionaire's Bride

A burst of adrenaline jolted Melanie from head to toe, warming her—no, heating her—through and through.

She shut off the boom box, lending the attic silence as she noticed that Livie had gone bright-eyed and hopeful, watching Mrs. Howe talk to her dad.

Once again, Melanie hurt for her, because she knew that he’d just called Livie yesterday and he wasn’t yet scheduled to do so again.

Darn it all, what could she do to take care of this situation?

Mrs. Howe kept talking to him, nodding, assuring him that the maintenance crew was making headway with the exterior of the mansion. In the meantime, Livie grabbed the manager’s skirt, as if to get her dad’s attention through Mrs. Howe.

Unable to stand it anymore, Melanie went to Livie, resting a hand on the girl’s head.

“Can I talk to him?” the little girl whispered to Mrs. Howe.

Something like a heartfelt reaction overtook the manager’s face. She looked at Melanie almost regretfully, while tacitly asking her to usher Livie out of the room so Zane Foley could conduct business without interruption.

Anger boiled in Melanie, taking over—or maybe even mixing—with the surge of awareness she’d been feeling before.

She got down to Livie’s height. “Maybe we should try calling him later,” she whispered, “after business hours?”

That sorrow—so familiar, so gut-wrenching—consumed Livie’s gaze.

Scott shook his head while wandering out of the room, and Melanie thought that he might’ve been expecting more of her—the woman who’d taken Livie under her wing.

And shouldn’t he?

Mrs. Howe signed off, silent, as if not knowing how to react or what to say to the little girl who’d been all but forgotten here at Tall Oaks.

Forgotten. Melanie knew exactly what that felt like—to live in a place where there were people crowded all around you, but you didn’t seem to exist in any significant way.

It was the last straw.

“Know what?” she said, tweaking Livie under the chin, trying to distract her, even though it was so tough, with her throat choking every word.

Livie’s mouth formed around a silent “What?” She was trying hard not to cry.

“I’m going to make sure you see your daddy soon,” Melanie said, skimming her fingers over the girl’s hair.

She heard Mrs. Howe gasp but ignored it, because Livie’s eyes had already gotten that gleam of hope in them, and Melanie would move mountains to make her promise come true.

Too late, she wondered if she was crossing a line—if this vow would get her fired. Flying in the face of Zane Foley’s wishes might take away all the security she’d won by landing this job.

But no one had been fighting for Livie.

“Really, Ms. Grandy?” the little girl asked, as if she couldn’t believe any promises when it came to her dad.

“Really.” Melanie stood, facing Mrs. Howe. “Father’s Day is just around the corner, isn’t it?”

She wasn’t so used to celebrating the holiday, but she knew it was sometime near mid-June.

“Ms. Grandy…” the manager began in a warning tone.

Brushing that aside, Melanie took Livie’s hand and squeezed it. “We’re going to make a present for him. And we’re going to be hand-delivering it.”

As Mrs. Howe closed her eyes and sighed, Melanie smiled down at her charge, who was already hopping up and down.

“Yay!” Livie danced in front of a cautious Mrs. Howe. “We’re going to Dallas!”

Yes, they were going to Dallas.

And somewhere in the back of Melanie’s mind, she realized that perhaps the trip was just as much for her to see Zane Foley as it was for Livie.

Even if it was a Saturday, it’d been a typically long day at the office for Zane: putting the finishing touches on acquiring an old, junky amusement park near San Antonio, with the intention of polishing it into a environmentally conscious spa complex; having yet another needless discussion with Judge Duarte about that state representative seat; hearing from Jason about how he’d met Penny McCord at that wedding this past weekend.

Zane showered and donned some sweats and a T-shirt. All the while he went over what his brother had told him about pouring the charm on Penny, as he’d tried to subtly coax any information he could about her family’s interest in Travis’s ranch. She hadn’t seemed to know much, and Jason hadn’t believed it, so he’d decided to pursue her further, perhaps through another “chance” meeting soon.

Truthfully, it’d all worn Zane out—maybe because, in spite of his support of the plan, it still wasn’t sitting well with him.

Then again, this had to do with the McCords, so all was fair.

Since he’d already had dinner at his downtown desk, he grabbed some paperwork about the Santa Magdalena shipwreck from his briefcase, then went to the living room and turned on the TV, thinking he would sit and read for a spell.

But he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Zane looked at the clock on his DVR unit. 8:00 p.m.

Who the hell was paying a visit?

He set down the papers and went to the foyer, accessing the security video screen console that was hidden in a wall panel.

When he saw a hint of blond hair, his libido instinctively went wild because he’d been imagining that same light shade, plus a slender body and long legs, every night since he’d met Melanie Grandy.

And as his vision focused, allowing him to see the rest of her standing right there, in the flesh, in front of his door, the air deserted his lungs, stirring him up, electrifying him in a way he hadn’t felt for years.

He hadn’t had time for it, and business took up all his energies. Women had gotten him into too much trouble before, and staying away from them made life easier.

Didn’t it?

Angered at all the questions—and even more so at Melanie Grandy’s presence—he was about to press the security speaker and demand to know what she was doing here.

Then he spied Livie next to her nanny, holding Melanie Grandy’s hand, and paused.

Livie.

Guilt consumed him until he banished it, focusing instead on the anger because it was so much simpler to understand.

He unlocked the door, yanked it open, and the force of the motion made the warm air outside stir Melanie Grandy’s hair.

The soft-as-silk strands that he’d been fantasizing about…

“Hello,” she said as calmly as you please, with a polite smile to match.

But Livie’s grin was much more excited as she said, “Hi, Daddy!” and held up a light blue construction-paper card decorated with feathers and sequins and doodads.

It read “Happy Father’s Day!”

The sight almost brought him to his knees, and that made him even angrier.

Still, he gently took the card from Livie, giving her all he could with a half smile that he hoped expressed everything he wasn’t able to say out loud, because he knew emotions and investment in them would only backfire someday.

When he didn’t say anything else, Livie’s smile faltered.

Dammit. Dammit to hell.

But he didn’t know how else to handle her.

The helplessness got to him again, and he refocused his frustration on a less vulnerable target.

The nanny.

“I don’t remember arranging a trip out here,” he said, his teeth clenched because he was trying so hard to rein in his temper.

And his inadequacy as a father.

She didn’t back down even an inch. “Father’s Day is tomorrow, and we thought we’d wish you a happy one. Livie made you a gift, too.”

He could see the nanny squeeze his daughter’s hand, urging Livie to present a slim box to him. But the child seemed reluctant to do so after how he’d responded to her card.

He couldn’t blame her.

Unable to stand himself, he relented just this once and bent down to Livie, accepting the box, then opening it to find a hand-sewn tie made out of flannel R2-D2 material.

Livie spoke up quietly. “Ms. Grandy helped me.”

“It’s made out of pajamas she’d grown out of,” the nanny said.

God help him. He just stared at the gift, thinking he’d never seen anything so wonderful in his life.

But when he glanced at his daughter, he saw Danielle’s smile—the sweet, innocent expression his own wife had worn when they were young.

Back then, it had been so easy to think everything was going to be okay. Yet, then hell had hit, and he’d realized that he should’ve been so much more careful.

He tried to say something to Livie, failed, then tried again, even though the words scraped on the way out.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he finally managed, touching her cheek.

“You’re welcome.”

He could see in her eyes that she wanted more than just a thank you, so he awkwardly held open his arms.

She hesitated, but Melanie Grandy helped out by guiding Livie forward.

When his daughter fell against him, he closed his eyes, squeezing her tight. Probably too tight, because she backed away and went back to holding her nanny’s hand.

His own daughter, preferring a near stranger.

But that’s what he was, wasn’t he?

If thoughts could make a person bleed, he’d be dying.

“Why don’t you go inside, Livie?” he said, his tone measured. “The TV’s on.”

“TV?” she asked, clearly intrigued about an activity she rarely got to indulge in.

He gestured for her to enter, and after she did, he tried to contain himself in front of his guest.

But there was too much to bottle up: the frustration, the shock of his unwelcome attraction to her, the barely quelled rage of both combined.

He dragged his gaze over to meet hers, and the flash of her blue eyes twisted into him.

His words were low and tight. “You’ve been making ties and cards instead of concentrating on schoolwork?”

She furrowed her brow. “Mr. Foley, Livie’s out of school for the summer.”

Mortified by not realizing that, he found a million other reasons to still be put out with the nanny.

“And what did you expect to accomplish by bringing her?”

She smiled oh-so innocuously. “Aside from the fact that you have a new tie, she wanted to wish you a Happy Father’s Day. In person. Coming here was a gift to her, too.”

Was this woman brazen enough to be pointing out his shortcomings to his face?

No one had dared before—not until after they were out of his employment.

Before he could erupt, she added, “We got a late start on driving, mostly because when I called your number, an assistant answered and said you wouldn’t be home until after seven.”

“Then you’d best get back to Austin, since it’s a long ride.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and her agenda hit him square in the middle of the forehead.

“You set this up so I’d feel compelled to have you both overnight,” he said. “Is that it?”

“I didn’t think it’d be such an imposition. She’s your daughter, not a nuisance.”

He shook his head, ready to terminate her employment. But…

Dammit all, he didn’t have time to go through another nanny search. He’d felt terrible enough after his daughter lost yet another caretaker. Besides, switching nannies so often did nothing for her structure, and Livie seemed to really be getting on well with this one.

But in the back of his thoughts, he wondered if there was another reason he was hesitating to let Melanie Grandy go…

Hell no.

Not even remotely.

Still, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the nanny was right. It was the eve of Father’s Day, and what kind of dad would he be to turn out his daughter?

Holding up a finger, he said, “One night, and I’m only agreeing to it because I don’t want you driving Livie home in the dark all that way.”

“Fair enough.”

Maybe he should add more for good measure. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t want either of you underfoot.”

Hollow, he thought. It all sounded as hollow as he felt.

“I understand,” she said, her smile strained.

Then she turned around to retrieve two suitcases—one scuffed, one pristine.

Melanie Grandy’s and Livie’s baggage, he thought. But he wasn’t about to let it become his own.

After entering, the nanny set the suitcases by the circular staircase, then immediately went to Livie. He took up the luggage, intending to get it out of the way and into the upstairs guest rooms, where he wouldn’t have to look at it. His own bedroom was on the ground floor, so it would keep him removed, just the way he wanted it.

Yet, when he came back downstairs to hear his daughter and her nanny laughing about something or another on TV, he found himself walking toward them.

But then he changed direction, moving toward the sanctuary of his study.

But he could still hear them.

And weirdly enough, he kind of liked the sound.

Chapter Five

That night, Melanie couldn’t sleep. Not with Zane Foley in the same townhouse.

She lay in the guest bedroom with the sheets tangled around her legs, trying to find a position that worked.

But she was restless, unable to stop thinking about him. And when she paired the stimulation of just being in the same pheromonal range as Zane Foley with the fact that she hadn’t been intimate with a man for a long time, this resulted in one wide-awake woman.

For a while, she’d dated a Vegas bartender who nursed ambitions to open his own place, and the relationship had gotten serious enough, so that she’d developed what she’d believed could become serious feelings—at least until he dumped her. Otherwise, over the years, she spent her emotions wisely, knowing that sex didn’t feel right unless there were fireworks during kisses, and dreams of being with that man for the rest of her life.

But thoughts of intimacy with a certain nearby boss weren’t the only thing keeping her eyes wide-open tonight: it was also hard to wait until morning, when Father’s Day would really arrive.

Boy, she hated having to plot and scheme like this, but she’d seen Zane Foley’s eyes go gentle when Livie had given him that tie, and it had justified the chance Melanie had taken of losing her job altogether. However, if there’d been any sign of his closing himself entirely to Livie, Melanie would’ve cut the plan short and taken the little girl back home.

Yet, that hadn’t been the case.

It was clear that Zane Foley loved his daughter and he didn’t know how to show it. But Melanie wasn’t so simple as to think that the situation could be changed in the course of one holiday, because Danielle’s death had left too many scars.

As the grandfather clock downstairs struck twelve, Melanie sat up in bed. No use trying to sleep at all. Her mind and emotions were all over the place.

Maybe she could dig through his cupboard to see if he had any soothing tea?

Yeah. Right. Like he’d have tea. Yet, maybe he’d have some milk. Soothing, good old milk worked every time.

Melanie crawled out of her guest bed, then adjusted her above-the-knee, rose-sprigged linen nightgown and headed for the door.

The clock stopped chiming as she crept down the hall past Livie’s room, where Melanie peeked in to find the girl sprawled over the mattress, all relaxed knees and elbows.

Sleeping like a rock, as always, Melanie thought.

Warmth lodging in her upper chest, she shut the door and continued on her way. Down the circular stairs, quietly, slowly. Toward the kitchen.

But before she got there, she heard something in the living room. A wall blocked her view, but that didn’t stop her from wondering if it was Zane.

Her heart butted against her chest.

Was he up, too?

She peered around the wall, but she must’ve already made some noise, because she saw him under the light of a dim Tiffany lamp, shoving some object into a small chest, his shoulders hunched.

Heart in her throat, she pulled back around the corner. Maybe she should go back to her bedroom and leave him alone.

Yet that was the last thing she really wanted—her body was very clear about that, too, as it began a sultry melt—hot, liquid, weak.

“Livie?” she heard him ask gruffly from the other room.

Shoot! No escaping now.

“No.” Melanie realized she was wearing a nightgown. Conservative by most standards, but…a nightgown. Her breasts pressed against the linen, her nipples hardening at the sound of his voice alone.

But she couldn’t hide here like a kid playing games.

Exhaling, she pulled her gown away from her chest, hoping that would do as she walked around the corner.

“It’s me,” she said. “I was going to the kitchen for something to drink, and I…”

He was staring at her, and it ratcheted her pulse up to high speed, enough so that she could feel the tiny, propulsive rhythm of it in her neck veins.

Just the two of us, she thought—after midnight.

While she’d been behind the wall, he’d clearly placed the wooden chest on a shelf to the side of his massive TV, but her mind wasn’t so much on that, or even what might be inside of it.

One hundred percent of her was concentrated on him.

As he put his hands on his hips, making the muscles in his arms that much more obvious, making him seem like that noble, Western everyman, she corrected herself.

She was paying one hundred and ten percent attention to him now.

Those shoulders under his T-shirt, she thought. And that broad chest…

She bet that he had corrugated abs under his shirt, and she could just about feel them under her fingertips right now—ridges, muscle, flesh.

Hot and smooth…

“Sorry I bothered you,” he said in a low voice that shook her, even over the quiet hum of everything else.

“No bother.” What to say now? Hi, yes, I’m sporting a nightgown, but you must admit it’s prettier than that business suit you saw me wearing at our interviews.

“You want me to…?” He motioned toward the kitchen, as if asking if he should fetch her something to drink.

My, how polite they suddenly were with each other.

“No, no, I’ve got it.” She started to leave, thinking she would skip the beverage and just scram.

“Wait.”

It was as if he had a pull on her, and she didn’t go anywhere.

“Yes?” she said.

During his pause, she looked at him again, to find him running a slow gaze over her. When he saw that she noticed, he crossed his arms over his chest.

She was tingling all over. How could just a look do that?

“About earlier tonight…” he said, business as usual.

Great—did they have to talk about this now? “If you’re going to fire me, could you do it tomorrow? I’d like to at least say goodbye to Livie—”

“I’m not going to fire you.”

She stared at him as he leveled a firm gaze at her.

“Not yet, anyway,” he added.

This man. Dear God, she couldn’t make heads or tails of him. Was he angry because she’d brought Livie here, or not? After all, he’d retreated to his study right after they’d settled in; then they’d gone to bed after saying good-night. No more mention of anything. But she figured she would have to pay the piper when the timing was more convenient for him—like in the morning.

Yet, now she couldn’t predict him at all.

He was as mysterious as whatever he’d put back in that chest by the TV.

“Then I’m glad you’re not going to kick me out of the job,” she said, gathering her guts, standing up for herself and for Livie. “I think I’m good for your daughter.”

“I see that. She looks…happy.” The corners of his mouth seemed to rise for a fleeting moment, then stopped as if his mouth was so unused to the expression that it rejected any change.

“She’s happier,” Melanie said.

She waited for him to react, but he only got that shadowed look in his eyes again, the one she’d seen so many times during her interviews.

What could she do to get rid of it?

“You know what she’d really like?” Melanie asked.

“What?” The shadows were still there.

“If you’d do something with her tomorrow. Even just lunch. Or, if you could spare any more time, she talks about trying some horseback riding. Maybe that’d be an activity you’d both like.”

As if he’d been waiting for something to reject, he said, “Livie’s grandma died from a riding accident. I’d prefer we didn’t go that route.”

Talk about stepping on a mine in a field full of them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She hadn’t come across any family history articles that went so deep beyond rumor and innuendo, and that family feud with the McCords.

“I try to keep most things private, if I can manage,” he said. “Even from the press.”

She thought of Danielle but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to, when it looked as if those shadows were about to wrap around him and drag him into the walls.

“Instead of riding,” she said, “how about an hour in the neighborhood park with us? I saw one about a block away.”

He hesitated, and Melanie stabilized herself.

For Livie.

“She’s missed you,” she added. “This would mean the world to her.”

When he glanced at that chest on the shelf, the tightening of his jaw made her think he was going to refuse the invitation. But then he started to walk away from the object, toward that hallway, as if leaving whatever was in the chest behind.

Or at least putting distance between him and it.

“One o’clock,” he said as he continued toward the hallway, but she wasn’t even sure she’d heard him right. “I have to go into Dallas before that, but I’ll work the rest of the day from here.”

“Did you say—?”

He paused, staring at the ground. “One o’clock.”

Melanie could’ve shot through the roof. “Perfect. I’ll pack a lunch, so don’t worry about eating.”

“You’ll find the cupboards pretty empty around here,” he said, meandering away again, barely looking at her. “Maybe I should leave money, if you don’t mind stopping at the market.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.”

She was smiling to beat the band, and he lifted his head, his gaze coming to rest on her mouth.

Then his eyes met hers again, thrashing her with a slam of that awareness she’d been trying so hard to dodge.

But dodge she did, nodding at him and then leaving before he could, walking past the kitchen and back to her bedroom, where she intended to shut the door nice and tight behind her until tomorrow.

He’d meant to get to the park for their Father’s Day date.

He really had.

But Zane had found some accounting errors while reviewing a monthly report he was catching up on, and by the time he’d finished smoothing out the near damage, he’d looked at his watch to see that it was past three o’clock.

Three o’damned clock.

How had that happened?

He wanted to blame anyone but himself: why hadn’t Melanie Grandy called him when he hadn’t shown up at the park?

Yet, he figured the nanny had probably given up on him and hadn’t bothered to even pick up the phone, because he had only confirmed that he was the worst dad in existence.

As his hand fell to his side, he wondered how Livie had taken his absence, but the answer wasn’t hard to come by. She’d had plenty of practice at dealing with disappointment in him before, and he imagined that her opinion hadn’t changed today.

And there it was—the exact reason he’d excused himself from bringing her up in the first place.

He called Monty to pick him up. When Monty arrived he didn’t make any comments. Then again, unlike Melanie Grandy, the driver knew it wasn’t his place to do so.

No, his employee only handed him a box after Zane had settled in the town car’s backseat.

“What’s this?” he asked Monty.