Winning Sara's Heart. Mary Anne Wilson

      At the moment, safety wasn’t on his mind. His father was. As he tossed in the last of his clothes, he said, “Run that by me again, Dad?”

      He glanced over his shoulder at Ray Dan Sommers, who stood, arms folded, feet braced, without a bit of apology in his expression. Ray was sixty-five years old and looked every day of it, with weathered skin and a sinewy body that came from years of working the oil fields. And he’d just dropped a bomb on E. J. “You heard me, Sonny,” his father said.

      His father was sure he knew what was best for his only child, a thirty-nine-year-old whom he persisted in calling “Sonny” when he was trying to get something past him. E. J., dressed only in his jeans and boots, his dark brown hair still damp from the shower and slicked back from his now clean-shaven face, snapped his case shut. As he reached for a white T-shirt, he said, “Don’t call me Sonny, and you heard me, too.”

      He tugged the shirt over his head, then pulled it down as he looked at Ray again. “Explain,” he said tightly as he tucked the shirt into the waistband of his Levi’s.

      Ray backed up a bit as they met gazes, but he didn’t back down. “It seemed like a real good idea. You know, it’s PR, it’s image-shaping, like the big boys say.” Ray was in his usual jeans, plaid shirt and worn boots. He frowned, drawing his gray eyebrows together over hazel eyes, and stroked the beard stubble on his chin. “With you back in negotiations with LynTech, it couldn’t hurt for you to show your magnanimous side. Charity’s good and it shows there’s no hard feelings about that mess last week. Besides, it’ll give you a big tax write-off to use your place in Houston for LynTech’s charity ball.” He shrugged. “It all works out.”

      “Why didn’t you check with me first?” E. J. asked, his exasperation showing in his tone.

      The son faced the father, each the echo of the other, but with twenty-six years of aging separating them. Ray almost matched his son’s six-foot height, and they were both lean. Both had brown hair, with Ray’s laced with a good dose of gray.

      “You’re right, E. J., dead right,” Ray conceded, catching E. J. a bit by surprise. His dad seldom backed down on anything. “You were busy with…” He shrugged. “Well, you were with Heather, and you seemed busy.” A sly smile touched his lips. “I’d never interrupt that.”

      “When was this?”

      “A few days back. I came out, saw the two of you at the pool and figured you didn’t need to talk business then.”

      Ray made it sound as if they’d been having an orgy. Heather McCain had come out to see him before she left for New York. What Ray didn’t know, and what was none of his business, was that they’d decided it was time to move on, that their relationship had run its course. He had a feeling she’d been waiting for some declaration of love, but it never came, so she’d cut her losses. “So you just agreed for me?”

      “They were asking, and I didn’t want to interrupt you about something like that, so I said it would be okay.”

      “Just let LynTech use my place in Houston for a charity ball for some day-care-center thing?” he asked, still annoyed but starting to think that it might not be a totally rotten idea. He didn’t have much to do with kids, and probably never would, but it couldn’t hurt to help out that way. He just hated being volunteered.

      “They’re doing stuff for a pediatric wing at the hospital, sort of sharing the donations or something, and the only place they had to hold it in was an old auditorium. That wasn’t right.”

      “They use the place, and that’s it?”

      “Sure, mostly.”

      “Mostly?” E. J. shook his head with a sigh. “What else?”

      “Nothing big. They just asked if you could be there for the ball. I said, sure you would.”

      “Dad, why in the hell—”

      “Why not? You can be there in a blink of an eye on that fancy helicopter you got waiting for you now. And you’re going to be heading to Houston off and on during the year, now that the deal with LynTech is going through, and you agreed to stay involved for the first year. I just didn’t know you’d be going up there before the ball and staying at the house.”

      “You were wrong,” he muttered.

      “Yeah, sure, I know. I thought you’d fly in, just zip there and zip back. Even so, the place in Houston is the size of a small country. You can have all the privacy you need, and you can do whatever you want. Have Heather there if you want, and no one’s the wiser.”

      He was right about the size of the sprawling estate in Houston. “Heather’s in New York.”

      “Well, women always seem to find you irresistible,” Ray said with a sly smile.

      “They find my money irresistible,” he muttered.

      “Hey, you’re my son, and the women find the Sommers men irresistible.”

      “Sure, Dad, sure,” he said. But he knew one woman who didn’t. The blond waitress with those aquamarine eyes. He remembered all too well her anger at him for trying to help, a memory that had sneaked back into his mind at the strangest times this past week. “I’m going for business,” he said firmly as he turned and reached for his suitcase.

      “And if Heather shows up there?”

      “She’s in New York and we aren’t seeing each other anymore.” He wished he hadn’t said that last part when Ray came closer.

      “Sonny? What did you do now? She was nice, real pretty, and you would have had great kids.”

      “Oh, Dad, I’ve told you, we just had fun. No marriage, no kids, nothing. And it’s over.”

      Ray shook his head. “Sonny, you’re almost forty. You should be thinking of settling down, thinking about my future.”

      He turned to his dad. “Your future?”

      “Hell, yes,” he said with a gruff laugh. “You’re my only kid, and I want to be a grandpa before I’m too old to enjoy it.”

      E. J. brushed that off quickly. “Don’t even go down that road.”

      “You’re quite a catch, Sonny. Even that dang magazine listed you as one of the most eligible men in the state last year.”

      “Sure, and so was that singer with the shaved head and a lobster tattoo,” he muttered.

      “It was a scorpion,” Ray said.

      “Whatever.”

      “I’m glad you’re doing this,” his dad said.

      He glanced back at Ray. “Doing what?”

      “The deal with LynTech, you getting back on track with Ford after the fiasco of the leaks.”

      Ray hadn’t given him any feedback when he told him he was thinking of scaling down his holdings or when he’d told him about the mess last week. “Why?”

      “If you have less work to do, maybe you’ll have more time to start looking around for someone to have those grandkids with.”

      “What part of ‘that’s not going to happen’ don’t you understand?”

      Ray frowned. “Never say never, Sonny. You’ve got a few months before you’re forty.”

      E. J. laughed at that. “And you’ve got a few months before you’re sixty-five.”

      “So?”

      He crossed to the dressing room and disappeared inside to get his leather jacket, then came back into the bedroom. “So? Why don’t you get married again? You’re still quite a catch.”

      Ray shook his head. “Don’t have no desire to do that. Your mother was the one woman who—”

      “Could