Czytaj książkę: «Kings of California»
Kings of
California
Bargaining
for King’s Baby
Marrying for
King’s Millions
Falling for
King’s Fortune
Maureen Child
MILLS & BOON
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MAUREEN CHILD is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. An author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur.
You can contact Maureen via her website: www.maureenchild.com.
Bargaining for King’s Baby
To Carter, for bringing so much love into our lives. We wish for you all the good things life holds, and we’re grateful to be able to watch you discover the world around you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
One
“You’re obsessed.” Travis King looked at his older brother and smiled. “And not in a good way.”
“I agree,” Jackson King said, with a shake of his head. “Why is this so important to you anyway?”
Adam King looked from one of his brothers to the other and paused for a few seconds before answering them. When he did, he used the tone he usually reserved for his employees—the tone that precluded arguments. “We agreed when we took over the reins of the family businesses from Dad that we’d each be in charge of our own areas.”
Then he waited, because Adam knew his brothers weren’t finished. Every month, the King brothers held a meeting. They’d get together either here at the family ranch, at the vineyard Travis operated or on one of the executive jets Jackson owned and leased to the mega-wealthy of the world.
The King family had holdings in so many different areas, the monthly meetings helped the brothers keep up with what the tangled lines of the King dynasty were up to at any given moment. But it also gave the brothers a chance to catch up on each other’s lives. Even if sometimes, Adam thought, that meant putting up with interference—no matter how well meant.
Picking up his Waterford crystal tumbler of brandy, he swirled the amber liquid in the bottom of the glass and watched the firelight from the hearth wink in its depths. He knew it wouldn’t take long to get a comment from his brothers and he silently bet himself that it would be Travis who spoke first. A moment later, he was proven right.
“Yeah, Adam, we each run our own areas,” Travis said, taking a deep sip of a King Vineyard Merlot. Travis preferred drinking the wines his vineyard produced to the brandy Adam enjoyed. He shot a look at Jackson, who nodded at him. “That doesn’t mean we won’t have a question or two.”
“Have all the questions you like,” Adam told him. He stood up, walked to the massive stone hearth and stared down into the crackling fire. “Just don’t expect me to answer them.”
Jackson spoke up as if to head off a budding confrontation. Holding his glass of Irish whiskey, he said, “We’re not saying that the ranch isn’t yours to do with as you want, Adam. We’re only trying to figure out why it means so damn much to you to get back every inch of land we used to hold.”
Adam turned his back on the fireplace, looked at his brothers and felt that tight bond they’d always shared. Only a year separated each of them and the friendship they’d formed when they were kids was every bit as strong now. But that didn’t mean he was going to explain his every move to them. He was still the oldest, and Adam King didn’t do explanations.
“The ranch is mine,” he said simply. “If I want to make it whole again, why should you care?”
“We don’t,” Travis said, speaking up before Jackson could. Leaning back in the maroon leather chair, he kicked his feet out in front of him, balanced the fragile wineglass on his flat stomach and looked at Adam through slitted eyes. “I just want to know why you care. Hell, Adam, Great-Grandpa King sold off that twenty-acre parcel to the Torinos nearly sixty years ago. We already own nearly half the county. Why’s that twenty acre plot so important?”
Because he’d set out to do this and Adam had never given up on anything. Once he’d made up his mind to do something, it got done, come hell or high water. He glanced from his brothers to the wide front windows overlooking a stretch of neatly tended lawn and garden that stretched for almost a quarter of a mile before feeding into the road.
This ranch had always been important to him. But in the last five years, it had become everything to him and damned if he’d stop before it was complete again.
Outside, the night was thick and black, broken only by tiny puddles of decorative lights positioned along the wide, curved driveway. This was his home. Their home. And he was going to see to it that it was once again completely in King hands.
“Because it’s the last missing piece,” Adam said, thinking of the last five years. Years that he’d spent buying back every piece of land that had been in the original King land grant more than a hundred and fifty years ago.
The King family had been in central California since before the gold rush. They’d been miners and ranchers and farmers and ship builders. Over the years, the family had changed with the times, moving into different fields, expanding their dynasty. Generations of them had worked to broaden the family’s holdings. To grow and build on the previous generations—with one exception.
Their great-grandfather, Simon King, had been more of a gambler than a family scion. And to support his gambling habits, he’d sold off pieces of his heritage. Thankfully the Kings who’d come after Simon had held on to their family history with both hands.
Adam didn’t know if he could make his brothers understand—didn’t know that he cared to try. All he knew was that he’d devoted the last five years to putting the jigsaw pieces of this ranch back together and he wasn’t going to stop until he’d completed the task.
“Fine,” Jackson said, shooting Travis a quick shut-up look. “If it’s that important to you, go ahead.”
Adam snorted. “Your permission isn’t necessary. But thanks.”
Jackson smiled. As always, the youngest of the King boys was almost impossible to rile. “Good luck getting that land away from the Torinos, though,” he added, taking a sip of his whiskey and giving a dramatic sigh. “That old man holds on to everything that’s his with both hands.” His mouth twisted into a smile. “Like you, big brother. Sal’s not going to just up and sell it to you.”
Adam smiled now, and lifted his brandy snifter in a salute. “What was Dad’s favorite saying?”
“Every man’s got his price,” Travis said, and lifted his glass, too, as he finished their father’s quote, “the trick is to find it the quickest way you can.”
Jackson shook his head, but lifted his glass to his brothers. “Salvatore Torino may be the exception to that rule.”
“Not a chance,” Adam said and he could already taste the victory he’d worked five years for. He wasn’t about to let one stubborn neighbor stand in the way of success. “Sal’s got a price. Somewhere.”
Gina Torino hooked the heel of her scuffed boot on the bottom rung of the weathered wooden fence. She crossed her arms on the top rail and looked out at the field in front of her. The sun was shining out of a clear blue sky, the grass was thick and green and a brand-new baby was trotting alongside his mother.
“See, Shadow?” she whispered to the contented mare, “I told you he’d be fine.”
Of course, last night Gina hadn’t been so sure. Playing midwife to a Gypsy horse she’d raised from infancy had absolutely terrified her. But today, she could smile and enjoy the moment.
Her gaze followed the black-and-white mare as she moved lazily around the enclosure, new baby at her feathered heels. The Gypsies were the most beautiful horses Gina had ever seen. Their broad shoulders, proud neck and the “feathers,” or long, delicate hairs flying around their feet, looked exquisite. Most people, of course, took one look at the breed and thought…miniature Clydesdales. But the Gypsy horses were something else entirely.
Relatively small, but sturdy, the Gypsies had at first been bred by the roaming people who gave them their name. They were bred to be strong enough to pull loaded carts and wagons and gentle enough to be considered part of the family. They were exceptionally gentle with children and incredibly loyal to those they loved.
The horses, to Gina, were more than animals to be bred and sold…they were family.
“You baby them.”
Gina didn’t even turn when her mother spoke up from behind her. This was a long-standing argument—with her mother claiming that Gina spent too much time with the horses and too little time looking for a husband. “There’s no harm in that.”
“You need your own babies.”
Gina rolled her eyes, grateful her mother couldn’t see the action. Teresa Torino didn’t care how old her children were. If they sassed, they were just as likely to get a swat on the back of the head as they had been when they were children. If she’d had any sense at all, Gina told herself, she’d have moved away like two of her three older brothers had.
“I know you’re rolling your eyes….”
Grinning, Gina glanced back over her shoulder. Teresa Torino was short, curvy and opinionated. Her black hair was going gray and she didn’t bother dyeing it, instead reminding everyone in the family that she’d earned those gray hairs. Her chin was stubborn and her brown eyes were sharp and didn’t miss much.
“Would I roll my eyes at you, Mom?”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “If you thought you could get away with it, yes.”
Gina lifted her face into a soft wind blowing in off the nearby ocean and changed the subject. Safer that way. “I heard you talking on the phone to Nick this morning. Everything all right?”
“Yes,” Teresa said, walking up to join her daughter at the split rail fence. “Your brother Nickie’s wife is pregnant again.”
Ah. So this explained the let’s get Gina married and pregnant theme of the morning. “That’s great news.”
“Yes. That will be three for Nick, two children for Tony and four for Peter.”
Her brothers were really doing all they could to repopulate the world with Torinos, Gina thought with a smile. She loved being an aunt, of course. But she wished they all lived closer, so they could take more of the heat off of her. Yet of the three Torino sons, only Tony lived here on the ranch, working it with their father. Nick was in Colorado, coaching high school football and Peter was in Southern California, installing computer software for security companies.
“You’re a lucky nana to have so many grandbabies to spoil,” Gina said, sliding a glance at her mother.
“Could be luckier,” Teresa countered with a sniff.
“Mom…” Gina couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped from her. “You’ve got eight and a half grandchildren. You don’t need me to produce one.”
Her mother had always dreamed of Gina’s wedding day. Of seeing her only daughter walk down the aisle on her father’s arm. The fact that Gina hadn’t complied didn’t sit well with Teresa.
“It’s not good for you to be alone, Gina,” her mother said, slapping one hand against a board hard enough to make the fence rattle.
“I’m not alone,” Gina argued. “I’ve got you and Papa, my brothers, their wives, their kids. Who could ever be alone in this family?”
Teresa, though, was on a roll. The music of her still-thick Italian accent colored her words when she spoke again. “A woman should have a man in her life, Gina. A man to love and be loved by…”
Gina felt her back go up, even though a part of her agreed with her mother. It wasn’t as if she’d gone out of her way to decide to never get married. To never have children. It’s just the way things had worked out. And she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life being miserable because of it.
“Just because I’m not married, Mom,” Gina interrupted, “that doesn’t mean I don’t have men in my life.”
Teresa sucked air in through her nose in a disapproving sniff that was so loud, one of the horses in the meadow turned its head to investigate. “I don’t want to know about that.”
Good, because Gina didn’t really want to talk about her love life—or lack thereof—with her mother. She loved her parents dearly, she really did. Teresa had been born into a huge Sicilian family and had come to America more than forty years ago to marry Sal Torino. And despite the fact that Sal had been born and raised in America, he tended to side with his wife when she clung to Old World values—namely, that daughters who hadn’t found husbands by their thirtieth birthday were destined to be old maids.
Sadly, Gina’s thirtieth birthday had come and gone two months ago.
“Mom…” Gina took a breath, blew it out and prayed for patience. She’d hoped that having her own small house built on the family ranch would give her more privacy. Would make her parents think of her as a capable adult. She should have known better. Once a Torino child, always a Torino child.
Maybe she should have just moved away from the ranch entirely. But even if she had, she’d have been spending every day here anyway, since the Gypsy horses she raised and trained were her life. So she’d simply have to find a way to deal with being her mother’s great disappointment.
“I know, I know,” Teresa said, holding up one hand as if to stave off a familiar argument. “You are a grown woman. You don’t need a man to complete you.” She gave an impatient huff. “I should never have let you watch those talk shows when you were growing up. They fill your head with—”
“—sense?” Gina offered, smiling. She did love her mom, it was just so aggravating having to apologize for not being married and/or pregnant all the damn time.
“Sense. Is it sense to live alone? To not have love in your life? No,” Teresa snapped, not waiting for an answer. “It is not.”
It would be easier to argue with her mom if a part of Gina didn’t agree. Okay, a small part. But a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that she wasn’t getting any younger. That she should give up on old fantasies that should have died years ago.
Yet somehow…she couldn’t quite manage it.
“I’m fine, Mom,” she said, willing herself to believe it.
Teresa laid one hand on her daughter’s forearm and gave her a pat. “Of course you are.”
Okay, Gina was willing to accept that, even if her mom was placating her. At least it had stopped the conversation. “Where’s Papa?” she asked. “He was going to come look over the new baby this morning.”
Teresa waved one hand. “He has a ‘meeting’ he said. Very important.”
“Yeah? With who?”
“You think he tells me?” Teresa huffed out a frustrated breath and Gina smiled.
Nothing her mother hated more than not knowing what was going on at all times.
“Well, while Papa’s in his meeting, you can meet the new baby.”
“Horses,” Teresa muttered. “You and your horses.”
Gina laughed and took her mother’s hand. “Come on.”
As they walked to the fence gate, a rumble of noise drifted to them and Gina turned to watch a car approach down the long driveway leading in from the main road. Dust billowed behind the black luxury SUV and Gina felt a stir of something deep inside her when she recognized the car. Despite trying to ignore that feeling, her breath caught and held in her chest and her mouth suddenly went dry.
She didn’t even need to read the license plate…KING 1 to know without a doubt that Adam King was in that car. She felt it as surely as she felt the rocky ground beneath her feet. What was that, anyway? Some sort of inner radar that leaped into life whenever Adam got close?
“So, Adam King is the important meeting,” her mother mused. “I wonder why.”
Gina wondered, too. She knew she should just go about her business, but somehow, she couldn’t make her feet move. She just stood there and watched as Adam parked his car and opened the door. When he stepped out and looked around, his dark-eyed gaze sliding across the ranch yard, something inside her jumped in reaction. Stupid, she told herself. Stupid to feel anything for a man who didn’t even know you existed.
Adam’s gaze kept moving, as if he were cataloging the Torino ranch and would be given a test on it later. Finally, his gaze moved over Gina. She stiffened. Even from a distance she felt the power of his stare as if he’d reached out and touched her.
He nodded at her and her mother, and Gina forced herself to lift one hand in a halfhearted wave. Almost before her fingers had stopped moving, though, Adam had turned for the house.
“A cold man, that one,” Teresa said in a quiet voice from right beside Gina. Crossing herself she added, “There is a darkness in him.”
Gina had felt the darkness, too, so she couldn’t really argue the point. But she’d known Adam and his brothers all of her life. And she’d always wanted to be the one to ease the darkness back for him.
Stupid, she supposed. What is it with women that we all want to be the one to “save” a guy? she wondered.
She was still standing there, watching after Adam, even though he’d already gone into the ranch house for his meeting with her father. And finally, Gina felt her mother watching her. “What?”
“I see something in your eyes, Gina,” her mother whispered, worry tightening her mouth and flashing in her gaze.
Gina immediately turned away and started walking toward the horses in the meadow. She still felt a little shaky so she made sure her steps were long and steady. Lifting her chin, she whipped her hair back out of her eyes and said, “I don’t know what you mean, Mom.”
Teresa wasn’t so easily put off, however. She hurried after her daughter, took hold of Gina’s arm and dragged her to a stop. Looking into her eyes, Teresa said, “You cannot fool me. There is something there in you for Adam King. And you must not surrender to it.”
Surprised, Gina laughed. “Excuse me? This from the woman who not five minutes ago was telling me to get married and start having babies?”
“Not with him,” Teresa said. “Adam King is the one man I do not want for you.”
Unfortunate.
Since Adam King was the only man Gina wanted.
Two
Adam knocked on the front door, waited impatiently and then jerked to attention when a shorter, older man opened it and smiled out at him.
“Adam,” Sal Torino said, stepping back and waving him inside. “Right on time, as always.”
“Sal. Thanks for seeing me.” Adam stepped into the house and glanced around. It had been a long time since he was last here, but he noticed that the place hadn’t changed much.
The entryway was wide and lit from above by a skylight that spilled sunshine in a wash of gold across the gleaming pine floors. The hall leading to the back of the house was covered in framed family photos of smiling kids and proud parents. The high, arched doorway that led into the living room where Sal gestured for Adam to follow had been unchanged, as well. The walls were still a soft, warm yellow, the furniture was oversize and comfortable, and a stone hearth, cold now, held a copper urn filled with fresh flowers. Sal took a seat on the sofa and reached for a coffeepot sitting on a tray atop a wide, scarred pine table.
While Sal poured coffee Adam didn’t want, he wandered the room and stopped at the curved bay window. The glass gleamed in the morning light and provided a sweeping view of the neatly trimmed lawn ringed by ancient oak trees. Adam hardly noticed, though. His mind was already focused on the task at hand: How he would convince Sal to sell him the land he needed.
“So, what brings Adam King to my house first thing in the morning?”
Adam turned around to look at his neighbor. Sal stood about five foot eight, had thick black hair streaked with gray, skin as weathered and tanned as old leather and sharp brown eyes.
He walked over to take the coffee cup Sal offered him and then had a sip just to be polite. Sitting down opposite the other man, Adam cupped the heavy mug between his palms and said, “I want to talk to you about that twenty-acre parcel in your north pasture, Sal.”
The older man’s face split in an understanding smile as he leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Ah.”
It wasn’t good business to let your opponent know how badly you wanted something. But Sal Torino was no dummy. The King family had made offers for that land several times over the last couple of decades and Sal had always turned them down flat. So, he already knew how important this was to Adam. No point in trying to pretend otherwise.
“I want that land, Sal, and I’m willing to make you a deal that’ll give you a hell of a profit on it.”
Shaking his head Sal took a gulp of coffee, swallowed and sighed. “Adam…”
“Hear me out.” Adam leaned forward, set his coffee cup down on the tray and sat back again, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “You don’t use that piece of land for grazing or pasture. It’s just sitting there.”
Sal smiled and shook his head again. Fine. He was stubborn. Adam could appreciate that. He bit down on the impatience scratching at his insides and forced a congenial tone to his voice. “Think about this, Sal. I’m willing to make you another substantial offer for the property.”
“Why is this so important to you?”
Now we play the game. Adam wished this were all somehow easier. Sal knew damn well about Adam’s quest to make the King ranch whole again, but clearly he was going to have to spell it all out.
“It’s the last piece of the original King family holdings,” Adam said tightly. “Which you already know.”
Sal smiled again and Adam thought the older man sort of looked like a benevolent elf. Too bad he didn’t look like an elf who wanted to sell. “So let’s get down to business here. You don’t need the land. I want the land. Simple as that. So what do you say?”
“Adam,” Sal started, pausing for another sip of coffee, “I don’t like selling land. What’s mine is mine. You know that. You feel the same way I do.”
“Yes, and that parcel is mine, Sal. Or it should be. It started out King land. It should be King land again.”
“But it isn’t.”
Adam quietly seethed with frustration.
“I don’t need your money.” Sal sat forward, set his coffee cup down and then stood up to wander the room. “You know that, and yet, you come to me anyway, thinking to sway me with an argument for profit margins.”
“Making a profit’s not a sin, Sal,” Adam countered.
“Money is not the only thing a man thinks about, though.”
Sal stopped at the hearth, leaned one arm on the heavily carved mantel and looked down at Adam.
Adam wasn’t used to being the one on the defensive in a negotiation. And looking up at Sal from the comfort of a too-soft chair made him feel at a disadvantage, so he stood up, too. Shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans, he watched the older man and wondered what Sal was up to.
“I hear an implied ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Adam said. “So why don’t you just tell me what you’ve got in mind and we can decide if we’re going to be able to make a deal.”
“Ah,” Sal said. “So impatient. You should learn to enjoy life more, Adam. It’s not good to build a life solely on business.”
“Works for me.”
Adam wasn’t interested in listening to advice. He didn’t want to hear about “enjoying” life. All he wanted was that last piece of land.
“There was a time when you didn’t feel that way,” Sal mused and the smile slipped off his features even as his dark eyes went soft and sympathetic.
Adam stiffened perceptibly. The worst part of living in a small town was having everyone for miles around knowing your personal business. Sal, he knew, was trying to be nice, so he kept a lid on the simmering knot of something ugly inside him. People thought they knew him. Thought they could understand what he was feeling, thinking. But they were wrong.
He wasn’t interested in sympathy any more than he was looking for advice. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. Adam’s life was just as he wanted it.
Except for owning that damned piece of land.
“Look, Sal,” Adam said slowly, quietly, “I’m not here to talk about my life. I’m here to make a deal. So if you don’t mind…”
Sal clucked his tongue in disapproval. “You are a single-minded man, Adam. And while I admire that, it can also make one’s life harder than it has to be.”
“Let me worry about my life, okay?” That sizzle of impatience he’d felt earlier had begun to bubble and froth in the pit of his stomach. “What do you say, Sal? Are we going to be able to come to an agreement?”
Sal braced his feet wide apart, folded his arms across his chest and tipped his head to one side, studying Adam as if looking for something in particular. After a long moment or two, he said, “We might be able to strike a deal. Though the terms I have in mind are somewhat different than you were expecting.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Simple,” Sal said with a shrug. “You want the land. I want something in return. And it’s not your money.”
“Then what?”
The older man nodded, walked back to the sofa and sat down again, getting comfortable. When he was settled, he looked up at Adam and said, “You know my Gina.”
“Yeah…” Suspicion rattled through Adam.
“I want to see her happy,” Sal said.
“I’m sure you do.” And what the hell did Gina have to do with any of this?
“I want to see her married. Settled. With a family.”
Everything in Adam went still and cold. He suddenly became hyperaware. He heard the ticking of the clock that hung over the fireplace. He heard a fly bumping against the bay window. He took a long, slow, deep breath and dragged in the enticing aroma of spaghetti sauce bubbling in the kitchen. Adam’s skin felt too tight and every nerve ending in his body was standing straight up.
He took another breath, shook his head and stared at Sal, hardly able to believe what he’d just heard—realization at what Sal could be insinuating hitting him like a ton of bricks. But the older man was staring at him through steady, determined eyes, allowing Adam time to absorb what he’d said. But how could he possibly believe the old man was serious?
Adam had faced tough negotiators before and come out on top, though. Today would be no different.
“I don’t see what Gina getting married has to do with me or this conversation.”
“Don’t you?” Sal smiled. “You’re a man alone, Adam. Gina is alone, as well…”
This was not going the way he’d planned.
Gina?
Married?
To him?
No way. He looked into Sal’s eyes and saw that the older man was absolutely sincere. No matter how whacked it sounded. Adam ground his back teeth together and took a couple of long, hopefully calming, breaths. Didn’t help.
“Let me be clear,” Sal said, shifting to rest one arm along the back of the sofa, like a man completely at ease with himself and his surroundings. “I offer you a deal, Adam. Marry my Gina. Make her happy. Give her one or two babies. And I give you the land.”
Babies?
Fury erupted within and turned Adam’s vision red at the edges. His lungs labored for air. His brain was covered in a mist of temper that made thinking nearly impossible. Which was probably for the best. Because if he took the time to actually consider what Sal was saying, who the hell knew what he might say?
He couldn’t even remember being that angry before. Adam wasn’t manipulated—he was the one who did the manipulating. He was the one who was a shark in negotiations. He didn’t get surprised. He didn’t feel at a loss. He was never at a loss for words, damn it.
And looking at Sal now, he could see the old guy was really enjoying him being confounded, which only made Adam more furious.
“Forget it,” Adam said, the words hardly more than a hiss of sound. Unable to stand still, he stalked over to the bay window, glared at the outside world for a second or two, then spun back around to face the man still seated on the couch. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Sal? Are you delusional? People don’t bargain their daughters for gain anymore. This isn’t the middle ages, you know.”
Slowly the older man stood up, narrowed his eyes on Adam and pointed his index finger, stabbing at the air with it. “This is not for my gain,” Sal pointed out. “This is for your gain. You think I would accept any man for my Gina? You think I value her so lowly that I do this without thinking? Without considering?”
“I think you’re nuts.”
Sal snorted a laugh that had no humor in it. “You want the land so badly? Do this one thing and it’s yours.”
“Unbelievable.” This was crazy. Plain and simple. He’d always liked Sal Torino, too. Who knew the old guy was off his rocker?
“Why does this seem so unreasonable to you?” Sal demanded, coming around the sofa to stand beside Adam at the window. Sunlight speared in through the leaded glass panes, dotting the two men and the wood floor with diamond-shaped splotches of gold. “Is it crazy for a father to look to his daughter’s happiness? To the happiness of the son of a man I called friend? You’re a good man, Adam. But you’ve been alone too long. Lost too much.”
