LITMIR.BIZ

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fight it? It was inevitable. Sometimes she lost a valued employee, sometimes she gained one. It all evened out in the end, she supposed.

      Besides, who was she to fight true love? It certainly had found her—twice in her life. Lucas Camp, her beloved husband, immediately came to mind, sending a stir of heat through her. Though James Colby, her first husband and father of her son, would always hold a special place in her heart, Lucas made her incredibly happy. If only all couples contemplating a future together could find what she and Lucas had discovered…true love firmly based on absolute trust.

      The Wild Horse Ranch…near Runaway Bay, Texas

      JOHN ROBERT CALHOUN, IV, sat astride his mount in the middle of a wide-open pasture and watched the beautiful horses graze. Shiny brown and black coats, a few dappled and mottled whites, all with perfect proportion and carriage. The Wild Horse Ranch was lucky to have such an awesome herd. He blinked and looked out over the endless sea of green pasture. But it wasn’t horses that made the Calhoun name the respected one it was. Nope. It was the thousands of acres of oil fields that lay beyond what the eye could see. It was the crude pumped every day from deep within the earth. Black gold. In Texas, oil equated to royalty.

      “God Almighty,” John muttered. Did it really need to be this way?

      “I understand your misgivings, John,” the solemn voice said from next to him.

      Nathanial Beckman, Nate, had followed him out here. The man, his father’s closest confidant, wasn’t going to let go until he was sure John intended to do his father’s bidding once again. Nate had been with the family for forty years and, to John’s knowledge, he had never failed in any endeavor.

      John lifted his hat and plowed a hand through his hair. “I don’t think you do.” He settled the Stetson back on his head and shook it slowly from side to side. “He’s asking too much this time.”

      “John.” Nate moved his own mount a little closer, his tone more urgent now. “You have to know what a huge step this is, not just for Calhoun Oil but for the whole country.”

      There he went again with the guilt trip. If Calhoun Oil and Winterborne Industries merged, the country’s dependence on foreign oil could be greatly reduced. Both companies stood to gain tremendously and, for the first time in three or four generations, the families would be united. Just what he needed, the weight of the country’s oil future as well as the family’s one opportunity to set the past to rights resting squarely on his shoulders. Was it his fault that more than a hundred years ago the two families had been torn apart by war and greed and that the rift hadn’t been fused to this day?

      No it wasn’t.

      But his father had slam-dunked him with that very burden.

      “I know how big it is,” he growled, wishing like hell that Nate would find himself something to do while John thought over this whole mess. It wasn’t as if it would go away. He had to deal with it…but he needed time to come to terms with what his father wanted him to do.

      Marriage.

      He bit back a curse. It wasn’t that he wanted never to get married. He did. Eventually. But he’d scarcely turned thirty. Why did it have to be now? And to a woman he had never even met?

      To seal the merger of a lifetime.

      That’s what his father would say. The only way that the Winterbornes and the Calhouns would ever be reunited was with a marriage and the co-mingling of blood. In other words—kids. He not only had to marry this woman, he also had to have children with her—posthaste.

      This time John did swear. Nate flinched but didn’t run away as John wished he would. Instead, he remained steadfastly by, waiting to plead his case once more if need be.

      But John didn’t have to hear it again. He knew the deal.

      Regina Winterborne, twenty-four, had been in more trouble than he could shake a stick at. She was attractive and she wore her highbrow upbringing like a badge of honor. In other words, she was a snob. One who spent a small fortune on designer clothes and who’d had more short-term relationships than even John had. And that was saying something.

      Money aside, John had been blessed with an excellent blend of his mother’s beauty and his father’s rugged features; he knew he was good-looking. How could he not? Women flocked to him as though he was the latest motion picture heartthrob. Most of the time he didn’t mind. But occasionally he did. How the hell was he supposed to know the real thing when it came along? Would he really know when a woman cared about him simply for him rather than for his looks or his money? Probably not.

      That was one thing he wouldn’t have to worry about anymore if he went through with his father’s “deal.” He would know that the union was about money and the question would be moot. But what kind of life was that? How would children fare with a mother and father who had only married to combine their companies? Not too well, he imagined.

      But it wasn’t as if he had a lot of options. Though John had recently turned thirty, he had never once in his life disobeyed his father. Not a single time had he ever even considered going against his father’s wishes. And, the truth was, he wasn’t stupid. He fully understood how important this merger was, on a professional level as well as on several others.

      It was the opportunity his father had hoped for, as had his own father and grandfather before him. Not once had they gotten this close. Now the road to reuniting the two most powerful oil companies in the nation lay directly in front of John. Turning away from it was out of the question.

      “When will she be here?”

      “I’m leaving in half an hour to personally escort the Winterbornes to Texas. We should arrive by five this evening,” Nate said proudly. “A quiet dinner at the house has been arranged. Some free time will be available for you and Miss Winterborne since your fathers will be attending the poker game in Runaway Bay later tonight.”

      The poker game. Not a Friday night had passed in John’s lifetime that his father hadn’t attended the poker game in Runaway Bay. No less than half a dozen players, all oil barons, showed up for the game each week. John wondered vaguely how the good old boys from Texas would tolerate a Yankee in their midst. A grin tugged at his lips. Maybe this weekend would be worth the trouble after all.

      And that easily the decision was made. John would not stand in the way of progress. Nor would he be responsible for another hundred years of antagonism between his family and the Winterbornes. Nope. If a wedding was what it took to pull off this coup, then he’d suit up for the challenge. He wasn’t a quitter, and he damn sure never shirked his duty. As the one and only heir of the Calhoun name, he was it. There was no one else to do what had to be done, and another heir was necessary to carry on the family business.

      But about one thing he would have his way. The woman who was to be his wife would be his wife. His alone. There would be no illicit lovers on the side, no trysts…no cheating whatsoever. It would be the real thing. In and out of bed.

      He blew out a mighty breath. “All right, Nate. Let’s make this thing happen.”

      John turned away from the beauty of the horses and the lush pasture and set his sights on something far less attractive—coming to terms with his impending marriage.

      Back in Chicago…

      AMY MANEUVERED her ancient but reliable car through Chicago’s Friday-afternoon traffic more quickly than she’d anticipated and headed to the country estate of Edgar Winterborne. She relaxed her tense shoulders and settled in for the drive once on the open road. All she had to do was deliver this report. She glanced at the white envelope lying on the seat next to her. Then she could call it a day. Mildred had told her not to worry about coming back to the office. Amy could start her Fourth of July weekend early.

      She heaved a discontented sigh. Why hadn’t she answered Victoria’s question truthfully? How was she ever going to work up the nerve to say what she really wanted? It was so simple. It wasn’t as though the possibility of her becoming a full-fledged investigator was beyond the scope of comprehension. She knew she could do

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