The Texas Billionaire's Bride / The Texas Bodyguard's Proposal: The Texas Billionaire's Bride

Right. Anyway, after telling herself that she was being eleven kinds of fool, she’d found that she was sitting there still listening to him and Jason talking about the McCords.

And the Santa Magdalena Diamond.

If Melanie hadn’t been confused and intrigued by her new boss before, she sure was now. Since she hadn’t been living under a rock, she’d heard about the diamond and how it had been connected to the recent shipwreck discovery. Hearing Zane and Jason discuss all of it just piled one more question upon the other questions that had been weighing in her brain about the Foleys.

Monty glanced in the rearview mirror, checking on her during a lull in their talk. On the downhill side of his thirties, he had thick-lashed, dark eyes that tipped up at the corners in perpetual good humor, dusky skin scraped by a five-o’clock shadow, and a long nose that topped a smile.

“You need me to turn the air on higher?” he asked.

She crossed one leg over the other, aiming her body in his direction and away from the window. “No thank you. It’s just…”

“Come on, spill it out to me. Long rides go by a lot quicker with a good discussion.”

He was too nice to shut out, but she wasn’t going to “spill” anything about Zane Foley.

“I remembered that I left my suit jacket back at the house,” she said instead. “Excellent start, don’t you think? Mr. Foley probably believes I don’t have a brain in me.”

Laughing, he shrugged. “Listen, once I fill up my stomach with leftovers from Cook’s fridge, I’ll be turning this baby right back around, to be on standby for Mr. Foley in Dallas. I’ll fetch that jacket for you and make sure you get it soon enough.”

“Really? I hate to be such a bother.”

He made a dismissive gesture, and she thought it was sincere.

She told him where she left the jacket, before adding, “Must be nice for Mr. Foley to have a driver whenever he needs one. He’s worked for it, I know, but what perks, huh?”

He rested his hand on top of the steering wheel. “Mr. Foley doesn’t take nearly the advantage of his good fortune as I would. Sure, he has a great place in Austin, but he uses it to house Livie more than anything else. He’s never around to enjoy it. And he has that nice town home, too. But with his money? It could’ve been a castle.”

“He never comes to Tall Oaks?”

“No. He’s not there much at all. Birthdays, Christmas, an annual fundraiser for the Dallas Children’s Hospital, and that’s about it. Mr. Foley’s a busy man, but he gives Livie what she needs otherwise.”

Yes, nannies.

Yet, as Melanie had told her boss, she wasn’t one to judge, and she needed to keep that in mind.

Monty seemed to have shut himself off from saying any more about it, so Melanie decided to pursue another avenue.

Then she would stop. Really.

“Funny how life works. I mean, if Harry McCord hadn’t cheated in that card game with Gavin Foley, the Foleys might’ve been the ones with the jewelry empire that the McCords developed.”

“True,” Monty said. “There were five abandoned silver mines on that property. Five. That’s a lot of can-noli they missed out on because their grandfather made a bad bet.” He chuckled. “But, depending on who you talk to outside the family, you’re going to get a different story about that poker game.”

“What do you mean?”

Monty looked over his shoulder, amusement written on his face, then returned his gaze to the front again. “None of this goes out of the car, understand?”

Heck, she didn’t want to summon the wrath of her coworkers by betraying them. “Absolutely.”

Her pulse got a bit louder in her ears.

“It’s sour grapes, that’s what I say. Gavin made the bet, and he should’ve owned up to it. But it must’ve been tough to see that land pay off in so much silver to the McCords.”

“I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like,” she said.

“Fortunately,” he added, “the Foleys found their own strike of luck in their East Texas oil fields, but Gavin always claimed that the McCord silver should’ve been theirs, too. The boys grew up on those sorts of tales, especially young Travis. He practically lived at his grandfather’s knee, while our Zane ran the roost over at his dad’s house.” The driver smiled. “Testosterone Lodge. That’s what they called their household after their mother passed on.”

Melanie remembered the woman in the family portrait in Zane’s study. She’d looked so gentle and caring, traits she’d never really grown up with herself.

“So,” she said, feeling an ache in her chest, “Mr. Foley—Zane—was the second man of the house, right after Rex Foley?”

“Yes, ma’am. And the absence of a woman’s guiding touch is why you have the competitive, aggressive Zane Foley, who lords it over the real estate and oil businesses. He’s the leader of the pack.”

Sitting back in the seat, Melanie allowed the image of Zane Foley’s hazel eyes to mist over her thoughts. She sighed without even knowing it, then recovered when she saw Monty watching her in the mirror.

“He’s a haunted man, too,” the driver said, as if he knew just what kind of effect the boss had on her.

Then again, she wouldn’t be surprised if he attracted every woman who came within ten feet of him.

“The missus—Danielle—did a real number on him.” Monty shook his head. “You’re going to hear about this sooner or later, being a part of the family now, so I’ll tell you. But it’s not to be talked about to anyone else.”

“I understand.”

He slumped a little in his seat. “Danielle was bipolar, and during a time when she went off her medication, she took her life.”

Melanie instinctively covered her heart with her hand. Now Zane Foley’s avoidance of discussing his personal life with the press made sense.

But what had the suicide done to Livie?

To Zane?

She recalled his devastated gaze, and she knew.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said softly.

“We were all sorry. It’s been almost six years now, but she still has an effect on every moment, every inch of space around us.”

Melanie stayed quiet. She was going to live in what amounted to a haunted house, wasn’t she? She was going to walk on the floors where Danielle had walked, brush her fingers along the same walls…

“He married her right out of high school,” Monty continued, “but a short time after that, she started showing extreme highs and lows in her mood. Mr. Foley didn’t know how to handle that, yet he did everything he could. The doctors even put her on meds, but when she went off of them…”

Melanie closed her eyes, wanting to hear, but not wanting to.

He added, “Mr. Foley isn’t a helpless kind of man. He’d always been so good at everything—school, home life, sports and then business. But he couldn’t come up with any way to aid Danielle, beyond getting her all the professional treatment he could. When she overdosed on pills, he blamed himself and buried himself in work.”

She opened her eyes. “How about Livie?”

“She was nothing more than a baby when it happened, but every year she grows to look even more like Danielle. You can imagine what that does to Mr. Foley.”