The Billionaire's Colton Threat

“Tent. You’re still at risk from the cold.”

They half walked, half stumbled into her tent. Alastair was definitely feeling better as he pressed her shoulders onto the sleeping bag and rose above her. “I want to make love to you in so many ways, Halle. But later. This time I don’t want to wait or draw it out. I need you now. Pure and simple.”

“Yes.” Amazing she could force the word out, as turned on as she was.

“Condoms?” His Scottish accent made the request seem as gentlemanly as it was.

“In the zipper bag, here—” She reached to the small pouch in the tiny tent where she kept first aid items and condoms. She’d had clients request them, clients she’d envied who’d decided to take her trip as a honeymoon or lovers’ vacation. But she’d put them there as an afterthought, after she’d made him tea at the house. Somewhere inside of her she’d hoped this might happen. Alastair and her, together in the most basic way.

Alastair grasped the wrapper as soon as she plucked the small packet from the bag. “You’re moving awfully well for a man who was just on the brink of hypothermia.” She tried to think, tried to focus but the way he so quickly donned the protection and then lifted her head to deeply kiss her again allowed her to only think of the incredible sensations his touch brought.

“Halle.” He said her name as if she were the Holy Grail. Dispensing with any illusion of a romantic buildup, Alastair entered her in one powerful thrust and Halle met him, eager to match him, their need mutual. As they moved together it occurred to her that it had never been this natural, this raw, this perfect the first time with any other man. Not just the first time—any time with another man.

Then the delicious sensations that pushed her over the edge of her most satisfying climax ever blew any vestige of rational thought out of her brain. Alastair’s matching release, punctuated by his deep shout, was all she needed.

Chapter 4 (#ufa5afa86-4257-5471-a829-c4717a8cdf5d)

Three months later

“Thanks for taking them in, Charlie.” Halle handed off the leather lead shanks to her ranch hand, hoping he didn’t notice her excessive sweat. She had to make it back to the house before she threw up in front of him.

“No problem, Boss.” Charlie walked toward the stables with Elvis and Buttercup. She’d already worked Buster and two other geldings. It lifted her mood to see how well cared for her mounts were. As much as Bluewood was in the red, she’d managed to squeeze out enough to keep the horses healthy.

Unlike the majority of her cattle, which she’d had to sell off to keep things running. That had hurt, but not as much as she knew the next few minutes would. Going into the house, she made straight for the bathroom as her loyal herding dogs followed her. She looked at the stick she’d peed on before her anxiety got any worse.

The plus sign stared accusingly at her. Her weight loss from the constant worry over Bluewood’s survival hadn’t left her body fat too low to warrant missing menstrual cycles. That had been her excuse the first month she’d skipped her period.

Her attempts to deny a second month without a period, however, were met with her swollen, tender breasts and her constant exhaustion. The last few days the nausea had caught up to her. So she’d done what millions of women did every year. Last night she’d purchased a home pregnancy test at the Shadow Creek drugstore. She’d left it in the bathroom overnight, in case her cycle started by morning. She’d taken the test first thing upon waking.

Somehow, the protection she and Alastair had used had failed. She was single, near bankruptcy and pregnant. No time to process it all right now, though, as her stomach did what it was becoming too good at doing.

Halle threw up.

It was time to tell the father, but she felt horrible even thinking about calling Alastair. She’d ignored his persistent attempts to contact her the first few weeks after he’d left Texas. It was a nonstarter, any kind of relationship with the sexy billionaire. Halle was a native of Shadow Creek, Texas—fun for a diversion or maybe even some real dating. Until Alastair realized his jet-set lifestyle wasn’t enough to get her out of Texas. And Halle was as dedicated as ever to Bluewood. It’d have to be as a single mom now, was all.

Wrapping a towel she’d soaked in cold water around her neck, she went to find her phone.

* * *

Alastair Buchanan frowned at his cell phone. Halle Ford had called three times in the past two days, but never left a message. Desire startled him as it slammed into his gut and made a direct line to his crotch. Halle.

It’d been such an incredible time with her in the Texas Hill Country. The sex, yes, but so much more. Her. The way she listened. He’d really thought more might come of it. He’d been ready to convince her more should come of it, that with his resources that included a private jet they’d make the miles and hours between them manageable.

But she’d never taken any of his calls, and while he was persistent, he wasn’t a stalker.

After never hearing from her for three months, the three attempts so close together seemed urgent. And they painfully reminded him of the countless messages he’d left her in the first few weeks after their time together.

Maybe she’d reconsidered dropping him like a hot jacket potato. When they’d hooked up he didn’t imagine she’d want more than their brief liaison. Not that Halle wasn’t his type, or the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. He wasn’t in a place to commit to any woman. Long-distance relationships could work, but so many thousands of miles apart made for a lot more effort on both their parts. And mostly on his company jet’s dime. The deeper, more pressing reason to stay away from any kind of relationship was that Clyde Whiskey was in peril.

He tried to refocus on his computer screen, to put Halle out of his mind. It was probably good that they lived so far apart, and if he went back to Texas it would only be to set up his investment business. Short-term. He wondered if she’d be open to seeing him when he went back, if he did. For old times’ sake. They’d been exceptionally compatible, once they’d given in to their attraction.

Halle’s incredibly sensual body and throaty moans had underscored the once-in-a-lifetime night they’d shared on the banks of Shadow Creek River, at Halle’s ranch outside of Austin, Texas. It was odd, in a way, that he’d found his thoughts drifting to the Texas land whenever the pressure of work had gotten to him these last months. And at night, when his head hit the pillow, he felt as if he missed Halle lying next to him. Which was absolutely ridiculous. He’d known her, really known her, one night. They’d spent a total of three nights and four days together. How was it possible that she’d made such an impression on him?

“Alastair, Jeremy Kincaid’s on line one.” His receptionist’s voice buzzed in his wireless earbud. Alastair tapped the accept button on his phone.

“Jeremy, just the man I need to hear from.”

“Hey, Alastair. Returning your call. What’s the holdup on the tech investment?”

His friend’s words socked him in the gut. Like him, Jeremy was never one for small talk. He didn’t want to admit what was happening with Clyde Whiskey but he wouldn’t lie to Jeremy, either. “I’m having a major problem. Someone—an unknown—is trying to gobble up shares of Clyde Whiskey.”

“Hostile takeover?”

“More like apocalyptic takeover.” Alastair let out a growl of frustration. “It’s been insane since I got back from visiting you and Adeline.” And Halle. “It’s all I can do to shore up the business. I keep putting out fires that pop up elsewhere.”

“I’ve been there, man, more than once. You’ll get through this, and trust me, no one is going to take Clyde Whiskey from you. Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Nothing, not yet. I have a team on it. I hope to have answers soon. The one weird thing is that it all started while I was in Texas.” As if someone hadn’t liked the thought of him investing in tech in the area.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to have bad luck while in Shadow Creek.”

“If you’re referring to the havoc caused by that woman Livia Colton, she’s dead. She’d have no reason to come after me if she were alive.”

“Sounds like you and Halle talked about more than indigenous history of Texas out on the trail.”

Alastair remained silent. He wasn’t going to share what had happened on the trail with Halle. It was too personal.

“I’m here if you need me, Alastair. So are your investment opportunities in Austin. And let me put it out there for you—our house in Shadow Creek is always open to you. Maybe time away from your home turf would help. Clear the mind.”

“Thanks, Jeremy.” As he disconnected he couldn’t ignore the tug in his gut at the mention of Shadow Creek. If he were to stay with anyone, he’d want to be with Halle. He grinned at the realization that he’d prefer the cozy ranch house at Bluewood over Jeremy’s spectacular contemporary mansion. In a rare moment of deep reflection he admitted that he hadn’t been himself, hadn’t felt grounded in Glasgow since he’d departed Austin. When he’d left Halle Ford and his adventure on Bluewood Ranch behind.

You haven’t left it behind.

Maybe it was time to return some calls.

* * *

Halle held her phone over her head as she lay on her back on the living room sofa. It was ringing, buzzing, breaking into the quiet zone she’d tried to establish for herself. Lying flat was the only thing that kept her from getting sick. The phone buzzed again and she peered from beneath the cold cloth she had on her forehead.

Alastair Buchanan. A jolt of awareness forced her into a seated position.

Dang. Hell. Crap.

“Halle here.”

“Is it a Texas custom to wait three months to return a call from a paramour?” Alastair’s rich Scottish brogue made tingles shoot straight to her center, as if they’d made love last night and not fourteen weeks ago. As if they were more than a one-night stand.

Yeah. As if.