The Millionaire Next Door

“Look, Daddy, a cowboy!” Bethany squealed.

Hudson had just pulled his rental car into a space on the Cottonwood, Texas, town square. Sure enough, a wiry man wearing faded Wrangler jeans, pointy-toed boots and a white cowboy hat climbed out of the truck next to their car. He saw them, smiled and tipped his hat before going on about his business.

Bethany stared at him in rapt fascination, and kept right on staring as she climbed out of the rental car. Everything delighted her.

He took her hand and they walked into Tri-County Realty, which George’s friend Ed Hardison had recommended. A woman in her fifties with a bleach-blond beehive and thin, penciled eyebrows sat behind a desk talking on the phone. She made eye contact with Hudson and held up a finger to indicate she’d be with him in a minute.

Hudson nodded, his irritation rising. He’d been looking forward to escaping all the attention he’d been receiving in Boston, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be ignored.

He wandered over to a bulletin board that featured photographs of various properties for sale and for rent. Bethany climbed up on a chair to study the photos with him.

“I want to live here, Daddy,” she said, pointing to the most opulent home on the board, a huge mansion on the lake. The asking price was almost a million dollars, which seemed cheap to Hudson. In Boston a property like that would cost three or four times as much.

“That one’s for sale, not for rent,” he explained, though he had no idea if Bethany understood the difference. “When the nice lady gets off the phone, we’ll see everything that’s available.”

“Margie never gets off the phone,” a voice from an interior office called out. The voice was brisk, but with a honey-edged Southern accent.

Intrigued, Hudson followed the sound of the voice through a doorway, finding himself in a large, well-appointed office with a view of the town square. But the woman who worked here apparently didn’t want to take advantage of the view. She had her desk turned so she had her back to the window, and the shades were drawn.

Her walls were covered with plaques—top seller for her company, at least three years running. Million Dollar Club. An award from the chamber of commerce for Cottonwood’s Ambassador of the Year. Other spots on the wall were filled with framed letters from grateful clients. Hudson recognized the name of a country-western singer and a former lieutenant governor.

The woman stood up and held out her hand, shaking his with a firm grip that made him fear for his surgeon’s hands. It seemed odd that such a delicate hand could wield so much strength. “Nice to meet you. I’m Amanda Dewhurst.”

“Hudson. Stack.” He held his breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction. Back home, if someone didn’t instantly recognize him, they at least knew his name. Oh, you’re that bachelor doctor guy. At which point they would wax eloquent about their uncle’s heart disease or try to set him up with a little sister.

He was tired of dealing with that. He didn’t want anyone bothering him, inviting him to parties, interviewing him for the paper or trying to seduce him. He just wanted to be a guy on vacation with his daughter. He didn’t hold out much hope. His notoriety as a surgeon might not extend this far from Boston, but everyone knew who the Boston Stacks were. They were right up there with the Kennedys. For generations, Stacks had been senators, judges, philanthropists and tycoons.

Amazingly, Amanda didn’t bat an eye. “Pleased to meet you.” She turned a dazzling smile on Bethany. “Hi, sugar. What’s your name? Would you like a piece of candy?” Amanda looked up at Hudson. “Can she have a piece of candy?”

“I don’t eat candy,” Bethany said primly. “It rots your teeth.”

“So it does,” Amanda replied, her composure unshaken. “How about an apple?”

A tiny refrigerator sat behind Amanda’s desk. When she opened it, he caught a glimpse of can after can of Slimfast—and one red apple. She grabbed the apple and brought it out, offering it to Bethany.

Bethany accepted the apple, thanked Amanda, then didn’t eat it. She seemed enthralled with the beautiful office—and with Amanda herself, whom Hudson confessed wasn’t bad to look at. She was petite, with silver-blond hair and a pixie face. Her hair was unfortunately pulled into a tight twist, piquing Hudson’s curiosity. How long was it?

She wore a red skirt with a sheer white blouse and a black patent-leather belt at her slim waist. Her nails were shiny red and salon-fresh, her complexion fair and flawless, her lips skillfully painted. She was about as well put together as any woman he’d ever seen, and he’d spent his whole life around females with wealth and style.

The surprise was finding her in this backwater town.

“What can I do for you this fine spring day?” she asked.

“We’re looking for a furnished house to rent. Ed Hardison said I should go through Tri-County.”

Amanda smiled. “You’re friends of the Hardisons? Such nice people,” she went on without waiting for an answer. “I sold Allison Hardison’s house a few months ago when she and Jeff got married. What kind of house are you looking for?”

“We want a house with a lake,” Bethany said.

Amanda beamed. “We have some lovely lakefront homes available. Are you new to the area?”

“Just visiting,” Hudson said. “We’ll only be here a month. We’re looking for a furnished rental.”

Amanda’s smile faltered. “Oh.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It’s just that most of the rentals require at least a six-month lease. But that’s okay. I can find something. Let me check our listings.”

“We want the big house—out there,” Bethany said, pointing to the outer office.

Amanda got a dreamy look in her eye. “You must mean the Clooney place. It’s the prettiest house on the lake. Unfortunately, it’s not for rent.”

Hudson almost agreed to buy it. It was hard for him to deny his daughter anything. But the house probably wouldn’t come with furniture, and he didn’t want to spend his whole vacation buying stuff for a house he would occupy for a few weeks, tops.

“I’m sure we can find something else,” he said.

Amanda’s pretty hands flew over her computer keyboard in a curiously sensual way. Hudson found himself staring at those hands, and the way her breasts jiggled ever so slightly with the enthusiasm she put into the typing. That sheer blouse revealed a lacy camisole underneath.

She called up property after property on the computer, rejecting each one for one reason or another. Some weren’t furnished. Some wouldn’t take children. Some were already rented.

“You don’t have any pets, do you?” Amanda asked.

“No,” Hudson said. Thank God.

“But I’m going to get a pony,” Bethany said hopefully.

Amanda pored over her listings, but she couldn’t locate a single rental house on the lake that didn’t have some barrier to Hudson renting it. He could have offered more money. Every fussy landlord had his price. But he didn’t want to call attention to his financial status. He was playing the part of an average guy, and an average guy didn’t have money to burn.

“I have several rentals in town,” Amanda said hopefully. “There’s a beautiful Victorian right on the square.”

“I want to be on the water,” Hudson said firmly. “I’m here to fish.”

“What about the Skillman cabin?” Margie called from the reception area.

Amanda’s face stiffened. “I don’t think you’d be interested in that one.”

“Why not?” Hudson asked.

“It’s small, for one thing.”

“There’s just the two of us.”

“And I’m little so I don’t take up much room,” Bethany added.

“It’s furnished,” Margie called.

“Margie, do you want to come in here and work with Mr. Stack?” Amanda asked, though the teasing tone in her voice softened the sarcasm. “I could take a coffee break.”