The Billionaire's Colton Threat Page 3

  “Sure. For the record, though? I don’t put on a ‘show.’ What you see is what you get. I’m interested in anyone who’s thinking of adding to our area. I love this land and make no apologies for it.”

  “I’d expect no less.” There he was again, being all polite and sensible, almost gallant. She snorted. Alastair’s voice might sound like she imagined a knight’s would have five centuries ago, but he had very modern sensibilities. Billionaire instincts.

  They rode for a few minutes, silent save for the creak of their saddles. Alastair kept looking at his cell phone, which he’d rested on the front of his saddle in some kind of contraption that she’d seen a few clients bring along. She’d required them to put their phones away, for safety. But since Alastair claimed he was an expert rider, she said nothing. If he ended up on his butt because he missed a rough spot in the trail, so be it. As long as he didn’t injure her horse. Or blame her for the fall.

  Halle cleared her throat. “So what do you want to know about Austin?”

  He switched off his screen and she found herself the sole object of his attention. It was at once intimidating and stimulating. “What brought you here, Halle? To Bluewood, Shadow Creek?”

  “That has nothing to do with your exploration of the area, Alastair.”

  “It does. You’re young and can manage a ranch. Why not use your talents in another business, something more lucrative?” So he had noticed the worn-down ranch, her inexpensive riding gear.

  “I grew up on this ranch. The only time I left was for college, after which I worked for several years in the city. I returned here to run the ranch for personal reasons.”

  “What did you do in the city?”

  She paused. Alastair was a client, period. She owed him no explanation for who she was, why she was doing this. Working the ranch that had been her father’s heartbeat.

  “I’m a CPA. Corporate business.” She looked at her interrogator. “If it’s all right with you, since you’re an experienced horseman, I’m going to take the lead. The horses will appreciate a good workout.”

  “Lead on.” Again, the gentlemanly nod. It would look ridiculous if it were any other man doing it, but Alastair Buchanan didn’t strike her as any other man.

  * * *

  Alastair didn’t mind the rear view he had of his fearless tour guide as he and Halle trotted, galloped and strode over mile upon mile of rough, Central Texas ranch land. It seemed he didn’t mind any view he’d had of her since they’d met. How was it that this woman, a complete stranger to him before this morning, was absorbing all of his attention? He was single and enjoyed dating as much as he could while running the family whiskey and investment business. This had to be a result of knowing he was going to be alone with her for several days, with no interruption. He trusted Jeremy implicitly—his friend wouldn’t steer him wrong as far as suggesting he get to know more about the Texas countryside with Halle. And Jeremy had encouraged him to flirt with her.

  It wasn’t Jeremy’s fault that Alastair had fought against his boner since meeting Halle.

  Telling himself to get a grip, Alastair forced himself to concentrate on the countryside instead of Halle’s ass. If only for a minute. Or thirty seconds.

  It was different from any other kind he’d seen before. Flatter and far less green than his family properties in Scotland, but stunning in its plain ruggedness. And the unexpected copses of trees in Texas—they were unique, as were the several creeks and rivers they’d rode around and through all day. The sun was warm and the breeze almost crisp. He had a hard time believing it was due to storm anytime soon, as the skies were bluer than Loch Ness in September. Save for the line of clouds at the very edge of the northwestern horizon. He already felt connected to this land, something he didn’t experience with every business deal, to be sure. Alastair enjoyed travel and prided himself on learning about local cultures wherever Clyde Whiskey had interests. But Texas already felt far more important, far more significant to him than a place to invest in tech. His gut told him his fearless tour guide might have something to do with it, but it wasn’t just about sexual attraction.

  Used to trusting his intuition in business, he was thrown off balance by how strongly he felt about Halle and Texas. It was more than a good hunch; it was more like a soul moment.

  The jet lag must have caught up to him. He’d faired fine over his first week, but now, in the Texas wilds, his circadian rhythm was doing a quick two-step.

  “Let’s stop over there for lunch.” He heard her suggestion with great relief. Food, that was what he needed. Sustenance. Halle’s profile was partially hidden under her cowboy hat as she spoke over her shoulder. He tore his gaze from her body, a body that filled out weathered blue jeans in a way that made it easy for him to imagine her naked. Halle sat in the leather saddle as if it were a part of her. He reluctantly looked at the trees she pointed to.

  “Looks like the perfect spot.” He guided Buster to the shady area under several willows. They dismounted and he followed Halle and Buttercup. In the few short hours they’d been riding, he learned that in Texas, where there were trees, there’d be some water nearby. Unlike his native Scotland, where lochs and rivers were liable to spring up without any surrounding forest. Sure enough, a small creek gurgled just past the slight rise of mossy ground, beyond the willows.

  “We’ll let them get their fill first.” Halle’s voice was quiet, almost contemplative. Alastair stood next to her, their horses providing a sense of privacy on either side.

  “It’s amazing how a ride in which your animal does most of the work has the same effect as several hours in the gym.”

  Her sharp amber gaze raked his face as if surprised. “Yes. When I lived downtown, I belonged to a gym and hated it.”

  “You prefer the outdoors?”

  Her eyes widened and he wanted to check himself. Why did everything he said to her sound like a cheap come-on?

  “I don’t mind a fun class with lots of loud music, but when the day’s done, I’m most at home here.” Her guard was back up. What made her so wary, so suspicious?

  “Do you ever feel threatened out here? With your clients?”

  “I have Adeline run a background check whenever I get a request for a private tour. As for you? I trust Jeremy and Adeline. The Kincaids are good people. They wouldn’t send me anyone who I needed to be afraid of.” Her tongue flicked out and licked her lip right before she bit into the plump skin. Instant erection. Holy hell, what was he, a teenager? He tried to recall his most recent dates. He’d only left Scotland a little over a week ago. That meant he’d been away from a woman’s company for what, ten days, a fortnight? Not enough to be losing his cool in front of a sexy Texas babe.

  “Er, no, I’m certain they wouldn’t, either. About where we’re spending the night—will there be a shelter of some sort?”

  Halle snorted. “I’ve brought two quick-setup tents, one for each of us. This isn’t the Appalachian Trail, Alastair. We don’t have lean-tos out here, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “I assure you I can manage. And I’d prefer to sleep under the stars sans any tent or structure. I asked about the shelter to offer it to you.” And to see if they’d be alone the entire four days. He was finding he rather enjoyed the prospect of alone time with Halle Ford.

  Save for his work. It seemed he was never without work, never had a break from worrying about his investments. Hiking in the wilderness had always been his way to let go of his responsibilities. He’d camped often as a boy, and enjoyed it through university. When Jeremy had suggested he do this with Halle, Alastair had relished the idea of sleeping on the ground again. What he hadn’t anticipated was such an attractive companion. He’d mistakenly thought he’d regret that anyone was with him, as Alastair’s solitude was his most precious possession. Somehow, Halle didn’t intrude on that for him.

  “I�
��m sure you’re quite the camper, from what you’ve said.” Her tone indicated she didn’t believe it in the least.

  “Before you judge me, I have to tell you that there are some business items I still have to take care of, even out here. Is this a good time for me to send off a few emails?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He walked to the far side of the shady area and pulled his phone off his saddle. He felt guilty, as if he were infringing on the serenity of their surroundings, on the delightful companionship he was finding with Halle. His gut kept tugging at him, telling him that for some inexplicable reason his time with Halle Ford was precious.

  He sighed and started to take care of business. The sooner he was done, the sooner he’d be able to fully enjoy Halle’s company.

  More than for calls or texts, his phone was a minisatellite reception tower, all in one unit that fit in his pocket. Being a billionaire had its perks, one of which included solid Wi-Fi in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. He’d lied to Halle, too. He wasn’t checking email—he was checking the London Exchange, and the New York Stock Exchange. One thing that he’d inherited from the long line of Buchanan men who’d turned a farm distillery into a single malt Scotch global empire was his killer business instinct.

  And right now, someone was trying to kill his life’s work, his legacy. Someone, either an entity or group of investors, was attempting a hostile takeover of Clyde Whiskey. It was strange, as it had popped up only since he’d arrived at Bluewood. He didn’t have the solid proof yet to alert his team, but he knew it the same way he knew why his family’s Scotch recipe was singularly the best of the best.

  A crisp dry beating sound drew his gaze from his phone screen to the brush under his feet, next to the clay of the riverbank. He’d seen enough nature programs to recognize the copper-skinned reptile as a rattlesnake. It sported a black diamond pattern and was no farther than three feet from him. As thick as his wrist and coiled into a tight ball, its rattles shook inside the tail, indicating it was a highly agitated snake. He’d watched enough BBC nature programs to know that much.

  Alastair also knew he had no defense against the deadly creature. He was rooted to the spot, afraid a sudden movement would force the snake to strike. No way would he be able to outrun its deadly speed, either. And if he got struck, he wouldn’t be able to warn Halle. Was this how he and Halle were going to meet their end? In the backwoods of Texas?

  An unstoppable wave of primal emotion propelled him to raise his arm and throw his phone at the snake. Before his phone made it airborne, the snake struck.

  Chapter 2

  “Back toward my voice, slowly.” Alastair would feel like a damned fool if he wasn’t certain he was near death. He held on to Halle’s voice. The snake’s head had hit the ground not two inches from the toes of his too-shiny, too-new cowboy boots as it had struck out at Alastair. The boots had seemed a more practical, if impulsive, buy when he was in Austin. He thanked God he was wearing them and not sneakers.

  Halle’s voice gave him courage, not something he usually drew on from others. Even with a close family, Alastair considered himself a loner. His strength came from within. Not now. Halle was his rock as he complied, moving backward until he bumped into her. To his visceral relief, the snake slithered back underneath the rock it had been sunning on before he’d disturbed it.

  He turned and found Halle’s eyes watching him, her luscious lips curved in a small smile. “Was that your first rattlesnake?”

  “Yes.” But not the only threat out here in the Texas wilderness. Halle held a revolver in her hand. “Tell me, Halle. Do you always carry weapons on family trail rides?”

  “Yes. For rattlesnakes and to warn off coyotes.” He suspected it was also in case she ran into criminals.

  “Have you ever had to use it against a human being?”

  “Not yet, but there’ve been a few scrapes.”

  He was looking down at her, close enough to see that her eyes weren’t brown or even amber but the perfect shade of Clyde Whiskey. Single malt, the premium drink that enjoyed worldwide acclaim. But her eyes were just the start of a beautiful face, her nose small and classical, her lips full and incredibly erotic.

  “Thank you for saving me, Halle.”

  Her eyes looked at his mouth for a full heartbeat before she stepped away.

  “You were fine. Rattlers don’t strike unless they feel cornered. You startled him off his sunning spot, that’s all. He would have backed off as long as you didn’t go after him.” Her speech was increasing in velocity. “Your boots helped, too—if he hit your leg you would have been safe. Although you wouldn’t need thousand-dollar boots for that. And for the record, you would have never hit him with your phone.”

  “You really know how to make a man feel like John Wayne.”

  “It’s all part of your special tour, Alastair. Are you hungry yet?” Her grin was genuine, a flash of inviting white. “We’ve got the best trail food in Texas. I cheated and used my two horseback coolers so that you could enjoy some real food out here. Of course, if you’d caught your friend, barbecued rattlesnake is tasty.”

  “Like chicken, I take it?”

  She laughed. “You might just survive out here, after all. Let’s eat.”

  She spoke as they walked to the horses, and put the gun away in one of her saddlebags. “Sliced Texas brisket or egg salad sandwich?” She pulled out a small bag and held up two wax-paper wrapped bundles.

  “Beef.”

  They ate in relative silence, for which Alastair was grateful. He needed time to process what he’d just done for the first time in his life. He’d relied on someone other than himself or family to help him out of a life-threatening situation. Gratitude, sexual attraction and downright affection fought for first place in his heart as he took a full account of his feelings since he’d met her. Although a sexual relationship with Halle or any woman was never a sure thing, he knew one thing for certain. Halle made the best kind of friend. She was trustworthy and true to her word. Not boastful but sure of her capabilities and not afraid to use them, as she had been to scare the snake away.

  Halle Ford was a woman that Alastair suspected would be difficult to say goodbye to, whether she ended up being his friend or lover.

  What he’d really like best would be for her to be both.

  * * *

  Halle used the lunch break to get her imagination under control. Because it was a total nightmare to even contemplate a sexual rodeo with Alastair, but contemplate she had as she’d been up close and personal with him. When his hard body had backed away from the rattler and into hers, she couldn’t help but wonder how all of that hard muscle would feel, naked under her hands.

  Her unintentional vow of chastity to Bluewood was making her crazy. Maybe she needed to start dating again, once she had the ranch running at a profit, or enough of a cash flow for nicer groceries, anyway. Halle wasn’t a food snob by any means but she enjoyed sushi and other less economical treats as much as the next millennial.

  “You’re worried about the rain. Is it supposed to flood?” His Adam’s apple moved under his skin as he finished the last of his bottle of sparkling water. Halle noted that he hadn’t spoken as he ate. More like wolfed down his meal—the man might be a gazillionaire but money didn’t take away his basic makeup.

  He was incredibly attractive. The man was a sex swizzle stick, for God’s sake. Yet he didn’t act like a jerk, didn’t make a play for her. He treated her like a professional.

  Which of course made him even more attractive. Not only for how the integrity that simmered underneath his all-business, all-the-time demeanor. He was a true gentleman in that he hadn’t flung a crude come-on at her or tried to flirt with her in a creepy way. His good manners reminded her of her father’s. Although she had to admit she’d love it if he decided to make any kind of romantic move. Client and all.
She’d always enjoyed the challenge, the push and pull, the delicate balance of tension that surrounded a full flirtation. She was her father’s daughter, for sure. Chancellor Ford had never backed away from any challenge.

  White-hot anger seared her heart. Her father’s life had ended horribly, in a car accident he’d had no warning was coming. He’d been murdered in cold blood by a hit-and-run driver, a woman Halle would never forgive. She had to physically shake her head to break free of the grief that threatened to swamp her.

  “Halle? The rain—is it going to be that bad?” Alastair’s concern was in the lines around his mouth, the intensity of his stare. The words were about weather but the subtext was clear. Are you okay? Are you nuts or something?

  Halle wrapped her waxed paper and napkin into a ball. “Worried is a strong word. I’m concerned that we’ll get caught in the downpour and get soaked. Hypothermia would be a quick end to our adventure.”

  “The rattlesnake could have ended it, too. And while I still hope that I can sleep directly under the stars tonight, I’ll take you up on the spare tent if you think it’s best. But only after we get yours set up, and you convince me you’ll be safe. You’re my trusted tour guide, after all. It wouldn’t be prudent to have you hurt this early in the adventure.”

  Halle’s heart warmed. It had to be a major concession for such a worldly man, even though he’d couched it as her decision, to sleep in the tent instead of under the stars directly. His manner of trying to disguise his concern for her as selfishness on his part was downright adorable. And sexy as all get-out.

  “All of the riders I bring out here dream of sleeping under the stars, but I have to say that rattlesnakes and scorpions can ruin a perfectly good night’s sleep. The tent is the easiest solution. We’ll set them both up. You can see the stars best before sunup, anyhow. We’ll have our coffee with the dawn.”