Sheltered by the Millionaire(7)

Three

Whit parked his truck in the four-car garage of his large, custom-built  home in Pine Valley. With a hard exhale, he slumped back in the seat.  He'd spent the whole day at work thinking about seeing Megan at the  shelter when he'd brought in the cat. Knowing he'd locked in a reason to  see her again pumped him full of excitement. Life had sucked so badly  the past month. Feeling alive again was good. Damn good.

He reached for the door and stepped out into the massive garage, all his.

Growing up, he'd lived in apartments half the size of this space, which  also held a sports car, a speed boat and a motorcycle. He liked his  toys and the security of knowing they were paid for. Since the day he'd  left home, he'd never bought anything on credit. His college degree had  been financed with a combination of scholarships and two jobs. Debt was a  four-letter word to him.

His father had showered his family with gifts, but too often those  presents were repossessed or abandoned as the Daltry family fled  creditors yet again. His parents had passed away years ago, his dad of a  stroke, his mom of a broken heart weakened from too many years of  disappointment after disappointment.

Every time they'd moved to a new place, his mother wore that hopeful  expression that this time would be different, that his father wouldn't  gamble away the earnings from his new job, that they could stay and  build a life. And every time she was wrong. Most times that hope would  fade to resignation about a week before his dad announced the latest  cut-and-run exit for the Daltry family. Whit came to appreciate the  advance warning since it gave him the opportunity to tuck away some  things before the inevitable pack-and-dash.

He'd built this house for himself as a tribute to leaving that life  behind. But he'd waited to start construction. He'd refused to break  ground until he had the money to pay for every square foot of it. People  viewed him as lighthearted and easygoing-true enough, up to a point. No  way in hell was he sinking himself into debt just to make a show of  thumbing his nose at the past. He knew the pain of losing everything as a  kid and he refused to go through that again. He'd been damned lucky his  home in Pine Valley hadn't sustained any damage from the storm.

As he stepped from the garage into the wide passageway, he thought of  all this empty space. He made a point of donating to charities, even  throwing in elbow grease as well when called for, like pitching in with  the never-ending cleanup after the tornado.

And now working with the animals? Except he wasn't. He'd left that cat  at the shelter. He'd meant everything he said about not having time for a  pet, but Megan had asked about temporary fostering and he'd rejected  that out of hand. He knew he'd disappointed her with his answer. Or  rather confirmed her preconceived negative notions about him.                       
       
           



       

Maybe if he got a couple of cats to keep each other company. Cats were more independent, right?

As he opened the door to the kitchen, his cell phone rang. He fished it  out of his pocket and the caller ID showed...Megan Maguire?

His pulse kicked up a notch at just the sight of her name. Damn, he  needed to get a grip. Pursuing her was one thing. Giving her this much  control over how he felt? Not okay. He needed to keep things light,  flirtatious.

He answered the phone. "Hello, pretty lady. What can I do for you?"

"Seriously?" she asked dryly. "Do you always answer the phone that way?"

"Megan?" he answered with overplayed surprise. "Well, damn, I thought it was my granny calling."

She laughed, her voice relaxing into a husky, sexy melody. "You have a granny?"

"I didn't crawl out from under a rock. I have relatives." Just really  distant ones who had cut ties with his branch of the family tree long  ago because of his father. "Actually, my grandmother passed away ten  years ago. My cheesy line was totally for your benefit, I just didn't  expect it to fall so flat. So let's start over."

That might not be a bad idea: to call for a do-over in a larger way, erase the past three and a half years.

"Sure," she said. "Hello, Whit, this is Megan Maguire. I hope I didn't disturb your supper."

"Well, hey there, Megan." He opened the stainless-steel, oversized  refrigerator and pulled out an imported beer. "What a surprise to hear  from you. What do you need?"

He sat in a chair at the island where the cooking service he'd hired  left a dinner in a warmer each night. He couldn't cook. Tried, but just  didn't have the knack for more than grilling and he worked too late to  grill. He twisted open the beer and waited for her to answer.

"I was just loading my dishwasher, and this weird panic set in that maybe you weren't serious earlier."

"About what?" He tipped back a swig of the imported brew.

"Did you really offer your plane to transport animals?"

"Absolutely. I don't make promises I can't keep." His father was the  king of broken promises, all smiles and dreams with no substance.

"Whew," she exhaled. "Thank goodness. Because I asked a contact in  Colorado to check out the rescue. I also spoke with the veterinarian the  rescue uses and everything appears perfect. So I called them and they  can still take a dozen of our cats, a huge help to us and to local  animal control. Am I being pushy in asking how soon we can transport  them because I would really like to see them settled before  Thanksgiving?"

"Not pushy at all." This was Thursday, with turkey day only a week  away. He had a meeting he couldn't miss on Friday, but the notion of  spending the weekend with her was enticing as hell. He'd hoped this  would work out. He just hadn't realized how quickly the plan would come  together. "Glad they have space to accommodate. I could see you're  stuffed to the gills."

"Feeding and caring for so many animals is depleting our budget in a  hurry." Her voice was weary, tempting him to race over to her house with  his pre-cooked dinner. "We try our best to plan for disasters, but  having just built the new shelter, we're stretched to the max."

He couldn't feed her tonight, but he could lighten some of her load. "I  also meant it when I said I'll talk to the Cattleman's Club about  rolling up their sleeves and opening their wallets. We can help. We're  about more than the Stetson hats and partying."

"I honestly don't know what to say to all of this generosity. You've  really come through for us with so much, especially offering your plane.  Thank you."

"Glad to help. Can you have the animals ready to fly day after tomorrow? I'm free to fly them to Colorado on Saturday."

She gasped. "You are flying the plane? I thought you would have a pilot...."

Had he failed to mention that part of his offer? Would she go running  in the opposite direction? Not with the cats' well-being at stake. But  might she try to send someone else from the shelter in her place? Had he  just roped himself into a weekend with her kennel supervisor?                       
       
           



       

That didn't change his promise. He didn't break his word.

But he would definitely be disappointed to miss out on the chance to get closer to Megan.

He clicked speakerphone and placed his cell phone on the slate island.  "I do have a pilot who flies me around if I need to have a meeting or  entertain en-route. But I'm a licensed pilot too, quite proficient, if I  do say so myself. What do you say? Let's make a weekend out of it."

"A weekend away together in Colorado?" The shock in her voice vibrated  through the phone line. "Are you trying to buy your way into my life?"

"Now that stings." And oddly enough, it really did. He wanted her to  think well of him. "I will concede that I'm trying to get your  attention, and bringing the cat today offered an excuse to see you  again, but it's not like I concocted a fake stray to meet you. Flying  the other cats to Colorado is the right thing to do for the shelter and  for our community. Even a hard-ass like me can see that. If you doubt my  motives, bring your daughter along. She's a great kid."

The silence stretched and he checked the menu card with his  meal-balsamic skirt steak with corn polenta-while he waited. Her answer  was suddenly a lot more important than it should have been. But he  wanted more time with her. Hell, he flat-out wanted her. He had since  the first time he'd seen her. The tornado had just made him reevaluate.  Life was too short and too easily lost to put off pursuing goals.

And right now, his goal was to discover if the chemistry between him  and Megan was as explosive as that one kiss led him to believe.

"So, Megan? About Saturday?" He rolled the beer bottle between both palms, anticipation firing in his gut.