His Best Friend's Sister

She was silent for a moment, but she nodded. “And Chloe is the Princess of the Rodeo,” she said in a wistful way.

Renee had been the tagalong little sister and then the bridesmaid. He knew nothing of her life. But she was clearly in distress and that bothered him.

His job was to solve problems. He’d promised his mother, Trixie, on her deathbed that he would keep the family from falling apart. That’s why he was the CEO of Lawrence Energies instead of taking another job—one that didn’t involve managing his father and his siblings. That was why he was still in Texas instead of going back to New York City. That’s why he sucked it up and managed the damned rodeo.

Renee Preston-Willoughby was a problem and he had no idea how to solve her.

“She’s in Lincoln, Nebraska, right now—and after that, it’s Omaha. And after that...” He shrugged, although Renee couldn’t see it. “It’s rodeo season,” he finished lamely. “I think she’ll be back in Fort Worth in a month.”

Chloe opened and closed every show in the All-Stars circuit. She had for years. She lived out of a suitcase for months on end, all because she liked to dress up in a sequined cowgirl top and ride her horse into the arena, carrying the American flag.

Oliver didn’t know how his sister could stand it. He hated the rodeo. The swagger of the cowboys, the smell of the horses and cattle, the idiocy of people who voluntarily climbed on the back of wild horses and angry bulls—yeah, that included Flash. There was nothing he liked or even tolerated about the All-Stars.

Now more than ever—what with Chloe demanding that she should be given a chance to prove she could run the thing and his father digging in his heels and insisting that only Oliver could do it. Never mind that Oliver absolutely didn’t want to do it or that Chloe would do a better job because she actually liked the damned rodeo.

“I should’ve guessed,” Renee said, her voice a little shaky. He saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath and then she turned around, her face curiously blank. “I’m sorry I barged in on you,” she said, her voice placating. He liked that even less than the fake smile. “Thank you for not calling security on me. It’s been good seeing you, Oliver.”

This day just got weirder and weirder. She had her hand on the doorknob before he realized that she was waltzing out of his office just as quickly as she had waltzed in.

He moved, reaching the door just as it swung open. He slammed it shut with his hand, causing Renee to squeak. “Wait,” he said and then winced as his voice came out in a growl.

He was too close to her. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating through her clothes, through his. He should step back, put some distance between them. She was pregnant, for God’s sake. Who knew what else was going on?

Slowly, she turned. Close enough to kiss, he dimly realized as he stared down into her soft blue eyes. She gasped, her eyes darkening as she looked up at him through thick lashes. He was powerless to move away. “Renee,” he said, and his voice came out deeper than normal. “Why are you here?”

He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do. He wasn’t all that surprised when her eyes got a wet look to them—it went with the dress. But then her mouth opened and instead of a sob, a giggle came out. “You don’t know,” she said, her eyes watering even as she laughed harder. “Oh, God—you really don’t know?”

So he was out of the loop on the New York scene. “Know what?” A tear trickled down her cheek and he lifted his other hand to wipe it away. When it was gone, he didn’t pull his hand away. He cupped her cheek and kept stroking her skin. It was almost like a hug, right? “What’s happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, an edge of bitterness creeping into her voice. “It’s just...” The giggle ended in a hiccup that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it? My entire life has been a lie.”

He caught another tear before it could get far. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you? I can’t believe you haven’t heard.” She closed her eyes and he could feel the tension in her body. “They’re calling it the Preston Pyramid. My family’s investment company was nothing but a pyramid scheme and it’s all come crashing down.”

* * *

How could he not know? The collapse of Preston Investment Strategies wasn’t just a New York scandal. Renee’s father—with the help of her brother and her lying, cheating husband—had bilked hundreds of thousands of investors out of millions of dollars all across the country. She’d thought everyone knew about the Preston Pyramid.

But then again, wasn’t that why she was in Dallas instead of New York? She just needed to get away. Away from the reporters camped out in front of her apartment building. Away from the gossip and the threats. She needed to go somewhere where people might not look at her like she was the Antichrist’s daughter. And Clint had told her to trust the Lawrence family. He’d said Oliver would take care of her, but Renee was done with people telling her what to do.

Chloe had been her best friend, once upon a time. Chloe never took crap from anyone. Chloe would help her.

Except Chloe wasn’t here. Oliver was. And Renee was out of options.

This was how far she’d fallen. Slipping past his executive assistant, barging into his office and doing her level best to keep it together.

Which was hard to do when he was touching her so tenderly. Not that those tender, sweet touches would last when he realized the true magnitude of what had happened. She stared at him as he processed the news. She saw her own emotions reflected in his face. Shock, disbelief—a lot of disbelief. “Your father ran a pyramid scheme? How?”

She shrugged. She should move away from him. He basically had her pinned against the door and was staring down into her face with his intense brown eyes. But he kept stroking her cheek and she couldn’t break the contact. It took everything she had not to lean into the touch, not to ask for more.

It had been Clint’s wedding, hadn’t it? The last time she’d seen Oliver Lawrence? She remembered Crissy Hagan, another one of the bridesmaids that Renee had thought was a friend until about six weeks ago. Crissy had gushed about how gorgeous Clint’s old friend was, but...Renee had blown Crissy off. Oliver wasn’t hot—he was irritating. He’d always looked down upon her. He’d been serious and grumpy, even as a kid. He’d never liked her and he’d made it difficult for anyone else to like him. Why he and Clint had got along, she’d never known.

When Renee had found herself next to him at the bar, she’d tried to strike up a conversation by asking about the rodeo. He’d promptly informed her he hated the damned thing in the meanest voice she’d ever heard.

Oliver Lawrence was not someone she could rely on. At least, he hadn’t been.

She still didn’t know if he was or not.

But Crissy had been right. Oliver had been hot then—and he was hotter now. He was one of those men who was just going to get better looking with age. How old was he? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? Clint had turned twenty-nine in jail, so Oliver was around there.

He was not the same boy she remembered. He had four inches on her and he seemed so much...more than she remembered from five years ago. Taller, broader. More intense.

Stupid hormones. She was not here to lust after Oliver Lawrence, of all people. She was here to hide.

“Apparently,” she said, remembering he had asked a question, “very well. No one caught on for years. Decades. He generated just enough returns that people believed the lies he sold them. Reinvestment, they called it. He convinced everyone to reinvest the profits they made, sometimes investing even more than the original amount. Of course there were no real profits,” she said, her emotions rising again. She struggled to keep them in check. “There were never any profits. Not for the investors. It all went to him.” She swallowed, forcing herself to look away from Oliver’s intensity. “To us. I didn’t know anything about it, but there’s no denying that I benefited from his schemes. I can’t believe you haven’t heard,” she repeated.

Anger and shame burned through her. She was so damned mad at her family—and she hurt for all the people who’d been swindled. Her father had ruined lives so he could buy a fourth vacation home. It was evil, what he’d done.

But worse than that—how could she have gone twenty-six years without realizing that her father was nothing but a glorified con artist?

When Oliver didn’t say anything, she glanced back up at him. His jaw was hard and there was something dangerous in his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Your father bilked investors out of a lot of money. I’m going to guess that your brother had something to do with it?”

“Of course.” She sighed. “Clint and my husband were both involved.”

Abruptly, Oliver stepped back. “I’m sorry I missed your wedding. How long have you been married?”

“I’m not anymore.” She took another deep breath and squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t let this fact hurt her. She wouldn’t let Chet hurt her, not ever again. “Chet Willoughby is dead.”

Oliver recoiled another step as if she’d slapped him and then turned and began to pace. “I understand that it is unforgettably rude to ask, but are you...” He waved toward her midsection.

She almost smiled. After the last two months, his apologetic question was the least rude thing she’d heard. “Four and a half months.”

Oh, the press had had a field day with that. Preston Pyramid Princess Pregnant! had blared from every newspaper and website for days. Weeks. The media loved a good alliterative headline.

Oliver burrowed his fingers in his hair, causing his brown hair to stand up almost on end. “Right. Your family’s fortune was stolen, and your husband, who worked for your criminal father, is dead, and he left you pregnant. Am I missing anything?”

The fact that there was no judgment in his voice, no sneering or laughter—that was when Renee realized she’d made the right choice. Even if Chloe wasn’t here, getting out of New York was the best thing she could have done. She could breathe in Texas. That’s all she wanted. Just enough space to breathe again. “Those are the basics. Oh, my mother took what was left of the money and ran away to Paris. That might be an important detail.”

It was an extremely important detail to the authorities.

“Yes, I can see how that might be significant.” He launched a wobbly smile at her, as if he couldn’t tell if he should laugh or not. When she couldn’t so much as manage a chuckle, he leaned against his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose.

If she’d had any other options, she wouldn’t be here. He’d looked like he was already having a terrible day and that was before she unloaded her tale of woe upon him. Her life wasn’t his responsibility.

But she had no place else to go. Getting permission to come to Texas had used all of her remaining political capital.

“Did you know about the scheme?”