Lone Star Millionaire by Susan Mallery Page A

Scotch. So he’d been a fool. He wasn’t the first man to be taken in by a woman and he wouldn’t be the last. So what?
    But it was more than that, he thought grimly. He should have known, or at least guessed there was a problem. How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn’t he seen through her?
    Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, he admitted. She’d been young and pretty and very willing. At that age, sex had been more important than feelings. Janice had encouraged him, making love wherever and whenever he wanted. Looking back, he realized she’d been far more experienced than he. He hadn’t been looking for anything long term, but he hadn’t expected betrayal, either.
    He didn’t understand her motives and he never would, although it was safer to think about her than to remember his parents and their part in what had happened. He wasn’t ready to rage at his mother for her thoughtless interference. Damn the woman.
    â€œWhy are you surprised?” he asked aloud, before downing half his drink. “These are the Langtrys, after all.”
    They were all sharks. Even him. He didn’t want to be like them, but sometimes he was. Blood would tell and all that. They were the reason he avoided commitment and love. He wasn’t even sure love existed. He’d never seen it at home and wasn’t sure it could survive in the world. So where did that leave Anastasia? With a father who didn’t know the first thing about loving a child.
    Maybe, he thought as the alcohol gripped his brain andmade the edges of the room start to blur, just maybe she would have been better off as a ward of the state.
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    He’d forgotten that sunlight could hurt so much. Cal blinked as he stepped out of his bedroom. There were skylights in the hallway. He winced and squinted, but it didn’t help. The pounding in his head only increased. He had no one but himself to blame—after all, he knew the potential effects of too much alcohol. He’d been trying to bury his pain, but it was back in full force and this time with nasty physical manifestations.
    Coffee, he thought desperately. He needed coffee.
    He headed for the kitchen, only to stop in the doorway when he saw Anastasia sitting at the table in the corner. She’d poured herself a bowl of cereal and was in the process of opening a milk carton. She’d brushed her hair back from her face and secured it in a braid. A red T-shirt and matching shorts hung loosely on her slender body, but they were an improvement over the rags she’d had on the previous day. She was pale and skinny, but she looked a lot better. She was, he realized with some trepidation, going to be a pretty young lady.
    She glanced up and saw him. “You look terrible.” Her voice was loud and the tone was exactly high enough to start a series of jackhammers going in his head.
    â€œI know,” he muttered. “I feel terrible. I just need some coffee, then I’ll be fine.”
    â€œWhy do adults drink coffee?” she asked. “It tastes gross. It’s all dark and yucky. You should try milk. It’s much better.”
    His stomach lurched at the thought of him swallowing milk at that moment in time. “Maybe later,” he said as he hurried to the cupboard and fumbled for a filter. There was a can of grounds in the refrigerator. After measuring out enough for a pot and filling the reservoir with water, he flipped the switch, then prayed it wouldn’t take too long to brew. In preparation, he got down a mug and waited impatiently. Atleast he’d had the good sense to get a coffeemaker that would allow him to pour a cup before the pot was full.
    Anastasia took a bite of her cereal and chewed. The crunching sounded overloud to him. He tried not to wince.
    â€œThere’s not much food here,” she said when she’d swallowed. “Just this cereal and milk. You don’t eat here often, do you?”
    â€œNo.”