One Stubborn Texan. Kara Lennox

even know who I’m looking for,” she pointed out. What was the deal with this guy, anyway?

      “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want more money. I make a comfortable income and I have everything I need.”

      For a moment, Sydney just stared. “You mean, you won’t even answer a few questions?” She’d never had anyone refuse to let her hook them up with their money, not unless they already had an idea of where the money was. Most considered the sudden appearance of an heir-finder a gift from on high.

      “I’m a very private person. I don’t like people poking around in my personal life.”

      “Just one question. Please. Is your mother’s name Winifred? Or anything similar?”

      “My mother’s name is Vera.”

      Sydney sagged. So he wasn’t the right one. “And your father? What’s his name?” she asked, just to be sure.

      Russ’s expression became suddenly fierce. “I don’t have a father. My mother’s never been married.”

      “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so nosy, but do you at least know his name?”

      He rubbed the tops of his thighs, looking out the window. She knew she’d made him very uncomfortable, but she had to be thorough.

      “My mother slept with a lot of men,” he finally said.

      “I’m sorry,” she said again. If Russ didn’t even know his father’s name, it was doubtful the father even knew of his existence. Damn, she’d been so sure she was on the right track. She had some other Russell Kleins to check out in neighboring towns, but this one had been her top candidate. He was the right age. Winnie’s son was most likely between thirty and thirty-three. If she couldn’t find him in this general area, she would have to widen her search to all of Texas—or the whole darn country, if it came to that. But that would take time and time was a luxury she didn’t have.

      “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing,” Russ said, and he seemed to relax slightly. “Could I buy you lunch? The Cherry Blossom Café across the street makes a mean chicken-fried steak, so at least you won’t leave Linhart hungry.”

      She struggled to regain her equilibrium. “No, thanks,” she said brightly. “Do you know any other Russell Kleins, perhaps relations of yours? Or any Winifred Kleins?”

      “This town is full of Kleins. You can’t hardly throw a rock without hitting one. But I don’t know any others with the names you mentioned.”

      “Well, if you think of anyone, would you let me know? And maybe you could ask members of your family if they know. I’ll be staying at the Periwinkle Bed & Breakfast.”

      “You’re staying here?” he asked, surprised.

      “I’m going to spend some time going over documents in your courthouse—birth and death certificates, property records, that sort of thing. Not all records are available online. I’m also going to be tracking down a few more Kleins in neighboring towns.”

      “You could still do with lunch.”

      She couldn’t deny that the offer tempted her. But she was on a tight schedule. She couldn’t leave her father alone for more than a couple of days, not when he was in such a fragile mental state. Although his depression had lifted somewhat, he still had bad days when he needed her close by.

      “I appreciate the offer,” she said. “Maybe another time.”

      She stood and picked up her things, keeping an eye on the dog, who was still watching her with unnerving intensity. She thanked Russ Klein for his time and headed for the door, deciding quickly on a new strategy. “Oh, Mr. Klein?”

      “You can call me Russ.”

      “Russ, then. This sum of money we’re talking about. It might interest you to know that it runs into eight figures.”

      Russ Klein’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows rose so high they almost met his hairline. Finally she’d gotten a reaction out of him.

      “That’s ten million,” she supplied.

      “I can count the zeroes. Ten million? Dollars? That’s what you call a small sum of money?”

      “Call me if you have any ideas.” She hurried out of the store, resisting the temptation to stay and press the matter. Let him sit on that information and see how long he claimed he didn’t want or need more money. Maybe he wasn’t the Oberlin heir. But she had this nagging sensation he knew something and just wasn’t telling her.

      Chapter Two

      Russ blinked a couple of times as he tried to wrap his mind around ten million dollars. This had to be a mistake. Only one person ever in his life had that kind of money and there was no way…

      When his vision cleared, Sydney was gone. The jingling of the bell on the door announced her departure. He resisted the urge to chase after her and demand to know more. That was exactly what she wanted and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, he moved to the window to watch her walk to her car.

      She had quite a nice hitch in her git-along, as Bert would say. As she started to climb into her car, a gust of wind caught her hat and snatched it off her head. She pirouetted gracefully, managing to catch the beret with both hands just before it sailed out of reach. At the same time her eyes caught his and she tossed him a wave and a mischievous smile.

      How had Sydney tracked him down? When Sammy had sent him and his mom away, he’d done everything possible to erase every trace of their presence in his life.

      A whine and the clicking of toenails on the wood floor brought Russ’s attention back to Nero. The dog was on his feet, sniffing furiously around the legs of the chair that had been Sydney’s, then on the floor where her purse and briefcase had been.

      “Don’t worry, Nero, she’s gone,” Russ said in a soothing voice.

      The dog hardly looked relieved. He pressed his nose against the wood floor and traced an invisible trail that meandered toward the door, his floppy jowls puffing out with each breath. Then he stopped, sniffed mightily into the air and gave a sharp bark.

      “What’s wrong with you?” Russ wondered aloud. The city girl had certainly played havoc with his own senses. Maybe her intriguing perfume, which lingered in the air, had upset Nero’s equilibrium, as well.

      After a few more anxious sniffs, however, Nero padded to his spot by the stove, plunked himself down and promptly went to sleep.

      Bert emerged from the storage room, frowning. “Why did you lie to that girl?”

      “Why did you eavesdrop on my private conversation?” Russ shot back, though he’d known that was exactly what Bert would do. As dear as he was, Bert was insatiably curious and a terrible gossip.

      “I didn’t listen on purpose, just picked up a word now and then. And the issue is you’re lying. Thought you knew better.”

      “I didn’t lie. My mother’s name is Vera. Vera Edwina.” But mostly known as Winnie.

      “You’re splittin’ hairs. We both know the girl was talking about Winnie. She probably just assumed Winnie was short for Winifred. Which means she was looking for you.”

      “I don’t want to be found,” Russ said flatly. Not even by a gorgeous city woman with big brown eyes.

      “She’s gonna figure it out,” Bert said. “All she has to do is ask the right person. Ten minutes in this town and she’ll find out your mother goes by Winnie.”

      “I didn’t think she’d be staying around long enough to ask,” Russ said. He realized now that his strategy of misleading Sydney Baines would only delay the inevitable. “I definitely didn’t know she was staying at the Periwinkle.” Fortunately, the two elderly maiden sisters who ran the B and B in their Victorian home were certifiably