The Billionaire's Colton Threat

“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 (#ufa5afa86-4257-5471-a829-c4717a8cdf5d)

“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.”

Alastair laughed and with growing dread Halle realized it was a sound she could get used to. Too fast, too deep.

“I wouldn’t want to meet our friend from earlier in my bedroll. Or make you have to shoot it in the middle of the night.”