Free The Tycoon by Anna Jeffrey Page A

he realized he couldn’t lure her into a sleepover, he had flitted like a butterfly from one elegantly dressed female to the next. He must have landed one and left. That was fine with Shannon. A relief, even.
    She hadn’t seen Drake Lockhart and Donna Schoonover either. Evidently, they had left, too. His fiancé was obviously drunk, but still, Shannon couldn’t keep from imagining what might be going on between the most appealing man she had seen in years and one of the richest young women in Texas.
    Also one of the rudest, if tonight’s behavior tonight was typical , Shannon thought sourly. Half the room had heard her shout obscenities.
    Shannon’s good mood had plummeted. For all its pomp and showiness, this party didn’t
    really amount to much. She certainly hadn’t gained enough from it to warrant risking her neck driving in bad weather or depleting her bank account on clothing.
    She hadn’t made the contacts she had hoped to. She hadn’t run into Emmett Hunt, the Dallas broker who had listed her five-acre corner. And as for gleaning a tidbit that might be helpful to her cause, she now realized that such a small tract of land in a small town held no significance for the people at this party. The ones who were interested in the real estate business chattered about multi-million dollar projects like huge shopping malls and multi-story office buildings and renovating old skyscrapers in downtown Fort Worth or Dallas.
    She began to think of the forty-five mile drive back to Camden. Realizing she had drunk enough champagne to take her from buzz to being slightly drunk, she declined a server’s offer of another glass of bubbly and made her way out of the ballroom to the foyer bar.
     
    ****
    Drake left Donna Schoonover’s plush townhouse at a clip, grateful to have escaped with his hide. Her scene tonight had been enough. He wasn’t easily embarrassed, but Donna had succeeded.
    The minute he picked her up off the bathroom floor and poured her into the Virage, he had known their affair wouldn’t see Christmas after all. Her bad habits had destroyed any affection, even attraction, he had ever held for her.
    Though he knew breaking up with her while she was drunk was risky, he had told her flatly that it was over between them. She threatened to sic her father on him and threw a vase at him, but he ducked in time. He had left her in the care of her personal maid.
    Now, driving back toward downtown Fort Worth and the Worthington Hotel, he considered that it wasn’t over with Donna yet. He would hear from her tomorrow after she sobered up. Around noon, he estimated.
    Hell, he might even hear from her father and that bothered him. He liked and respected Don Stafford and believed the feeling to be mutual. He bit down on the inside of his lower lip. Well, if Stafford chose to end their friendship over the breaking up with his daughter, so be it.
    Soon he saw the city’s white-lighted silhouette showing like a wide tiara through a veil of heavy mist. He narrowed his focus to the redheaded woman. He only hoped she hadn’t left the party.
     
    ****
    Sitting on a tall vinyl stool, Shannon sipped ice water, mulling over how long she should wait before starting the trip home. She had just decided she was okay to drive when a deep but soft male voice came from behind her, “What are you drinking?”
    Her heart leaped. She knew. Just knew. She jerked her head toward the voice and less than an arm’s length away, he was there.
    And Donna Schoonover wasn’t.
    His tanned cheeks showed high color, as if he had rushed in from outside. In a black overcoat, his shoulders seemed even wider than they had looked in the ballroom. He was near enough for her to see whisker shadow on his lean square jaw and his eyes. An unusual brown, not like chocolate, more like whiskey.
    “Um, it’s ice water. I’m driving.”
    “Smart thinking.” He moved to the bar, standing beside her stool.
    His scent surrounded her. Heavenly, like chilled night