Anthony Winston took a sip of orange juice as he studied his son.

The ritual was familiar, if unpleasant, and Derek sat up straight and stayed quiet, letting his father see whatever he’d see. Not that the inspection mattered much. In Derek’s experience, his father saw what he wanted to, not what was there.

With Derek, Anthony saw a screw-up. A man more interested in having a good time than working for the family business. Which had been true a decade ago.

But he was thirty-six now, and things had changed. The family business was important to him, something that he proved every day in the office, where he did one hell of a fine job, if he did say so himself.

He had to say so himself, because his father damn sure never did.

And then there was Derek’s sister, Melinda. Derek loved her dearly, but Mellie was a flake. In Anthony’s eyes, however, she could do no wrong. According to the elder Winston, the fiasco with the pool remodel she was supposedly overseeing at the Winston family ranch had nothing to do with her scatterbrained tendencies. As far as Anthony was concerned, the construction manager had been entirely at fault. Not his precious Mellie.

Of course, Anthony Winston’s vision was much more clear where his business was concerned. There, every detail was seen, analyzed, and comprehended in meticulous detail.

Which begged the question of why, if Derek was such a screw-up, was he the one going to Austin to negotiate with the owners of the South Congress Motor Inn. True, the deal had been Derek’s idea, but Anthony Winston liked to be in the thick of things. He wasn’t the type to hand off negotiations simply because someone else had conceived a project.

Could it be that underneath the constant criticism, his father had a clearer vision than Derek had realized?

He didn’t know. All he knew was that if he screwed it up, his father would have his head on a platter, breaded and fried for lunch. Probably served with a nice Chianti.

Now, Anthony took another sip of juice, then scowled when Derek finished off his cup of coffee. “You should drink your juice, not coffee. That’s your third cup. Too much caffeine dulls the senses. You need to be sharp.”

Derek bit back a sigh, ignoring his still-full juice glass. “I’m sharp, Dad. Sharp enough to know that you didn’t order me to the ranch this morning just so you could criticize my caffeine habit.”

The ranch was Winston Ranch, four hundred and ten acres in the Oak Cliff neighborhood of the City of Dallas. Right then, Derek and his father were under the cabana by the pool being served breakfast by a waitstaff so efficient every one of them could have worked at any top New York restaurant. They didn’t, though, because Anthony Winston paid them too well.

Years ago, the ranch had spread out over a much larger area and had been an actual working ranch. But that was before Derek’s time, and he only knew about it because the sale of that excess land, coupled with his great-grandfather’s decision to build a showpiece hotel in downtown Dallas, had been the catalyst for the Winston family fortune. Which, frankly, was vast.

Now, the ranch served as the family home, with the main house, his sister’s smaller home, a twenty-car garage, and a few scattered cottages for the staff. Fifteen acres stood in Derek’s name, waiting for him to build a home, too. But that wasn’t something he intended to do. He enjoyed working in the family business, but he wanted his own niche. And that meant focusing on new directions at the Winston corporation, many of which took him away from Dallas. More important, he had no desire to live on the ranch, where every time he looked to the sky, all he’d see was his father’s eye looking down into the microscope. He got enough of that from working with the man.

Anthony put down his juice glass and silently sat back in his chair, studying Derek. His father was a big man, with the same broad shoulders that Derek saw every time he looked in a mirror. He could also be intimidating as hell.

Today, Derek wasn’t intimidated. Quite the opposite. Today, he was irritated. “I need to get to the airport. Why the summons to the castle?”

“Because the reputation of this company requires that the South Congress Motor Inn deal be handled with finesse.”

Derek leaned back, his fingers steepled. “Have you forgotten that I originated this deal? That the entire concept driving this acquisition was mine?”

His father sighed. “You’ve got a good mind, son, no one doubts that.”

Derek’s brows lifted; as far as he’d known, his father doubted it on a daily basis.

“But this is a deal that needs to be handled quietly. We don’t need chatter among the investors or speculation in the trades.” Anthony met Derek’s eyes. “You understand what I’m saying?”

“Dad, I’ve been in this business since I was in diapers. I have business degrees from Harvard and Yale. You sent me off to work at competing hotels when I was sixteen years old. I’ve delivered room service. I’ve worked in the laundry. And I make one hell of a fine concierge if I do say so myself. I know this business top to bottom. Plus, I’m the one who conceived Winston Boutiques. So forgive me if I sound a little put-out for being lectured about what I already know.”

The Winston Boutiques division was still in the planning stages, but Derek had every intention of bringing it to fruition and making it his own. And right now, everything hinged on the South Congress Motor Inn deal. The idea was to find well-located but financially burdened motels with sentimental significance to their town, refurbish them into quality rooms with high-end amenities, and market them as premier destination accommodations with a retro feel.

Last month, he’d scoped out the failing motor inn on Austin’s extremely retail-and-tourist friendly South Congress Avenue, and he’d decided it was the perfect launch location.

All Derek had to do was acquire the place and get the ball rolling.

And when he nailed this project, he intended to insist that he be put in charge of the entire Winston Boutiques division.

That, however, was ultimately up to the board of directors. And the board didn’t wipe their own asses without first hearing what Anthony Winston wanted.

He sighed. Basically, he was stuck at the ranch until his father said his piece.

“I’m not doubting your skill, son. You’re a Winston, and you’ve got the chops. But we don’t want the press to get wind of what we’re doing, and the way you and Jared Ingram behave…”

Derek held up a hand. “What the hell does Jared have to do with anything? He’s in LA, and I’m here, and I haven’t gone out with him in months.”

“Good to know,” his father said. “Because you boys need to calm down.”

Jared Ingram had been Derek’s boarding school roommate. The heir to a family fortune that reached back to the beginning of time, Jared had enough money to buy and sell Anthony Winston a thousand times over. He was smart and funny and personable—and unlike Derek, he didn’t have a clue what he wanted to do with his life.

“Calm down?” Derek stared at his father. “Is that a euphemism for being seen? For having a good time? Christ, Dad, I’ve spent my entire life running interference for the Winston brand. You’re going to begrudge me a few parties?”

“It’s a euphemism for screwing around and making an ass of yourself. What? You don’t know how to have a good time without partying with some floozy? Getting drunk and getting your face in the papers every time you’re with that boy?”

Frustrated, Derek leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair.

No doubt, Jared was a player. And although Derek could never steal Jared’s crown in that regard, he couldn’t deny that he used to walk in those shoes, too. Especially when he was in the city with Jared.

Jared was not, however, a bad guy or a wastrel, and his father’s suggestion to the contrary made Derek’s blood boil. “I work hard. I play hard. And I have never once shirked my responsibilities to the Winston Corporation.”

Even as he said them, though, the words seemed hollow. The truth was, Jared’s antics had been getting on his nerves lately, too. For the last year, Derek had been going out with his friend more to keep an eye on him. Not to join him.

But it was just like his dad not to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Still, he had to admit that his father had a point. Just because Derek wasn’t getting wasted at every club from New York to Dallas to Los Angeles didn’t mean that Derek was entirely pure. He’d had his share of women over the years, and continued to do so. And, yeah, sometimes a piece of that ended up in the papers.

His past shouldn’t impact the Austin deal … but if the past became the present, it might. If he was seen with a woman in Austin, that would undoubtedly end up on social media. Not harmful in and of itself, but an observant competitor might see a picture of him in Austin and wonder what he was doing there. Possibly investigate. Possibly figure it out.

And then the Winston Corporation could find itself in a multiple party bidding war instead of being the only player at the table opposite the motor inn.

Damn, but the world had been simpler in his father’s time. But there was no putting the cork in the social media bottle.

Begrudgingly, he downed his glass of orange juice, then stood up, meeting his father’s eyes. “I’m heading to the airport now,” he said. “And I’m not going to fuck this up.”

And he wouldn’t, he thought as he headed around the pool and toward the main house. But the frustrating reality was that he’d intended to call Amanda Franklin from the road to let her know he’d be in town for the night.

For over a month now, she’d filled his head. And memories of their night together had invaded his dreams, so intense that on more than one occasion he’d had to take a cold shower before he even thought about getting dressed.

He’d resisted calling her from Dallas over the last month. She’d made it perfectly clear that if they got together again it would only be a drive-by. But he was okay with that. As much as she filled his thoughts, he didn’t need the complication of a steady woman in his life.

On the contrary, for years, he’d been the guy who’d gone out with a different woman every weekend. Not with quite the exuberance of Jared, maybe, but Derek had never been the type to stick. What was the point? His business was his priority, and it ate up his time. Why not enjoy the rare free time that he had? Especially when there were so many women in all of Winston’s various flagship cities who were more than happy to keep him entertained.

And the fact that he hadn’t called a single one of them in the last month had nothing to do with the night he and Amanda had spent together. Why would it? She was cut from the same cloth, wasn’t she? A woman focusing on her career and not looking for a relationship.

So no. The only reason for his relative celibacy these last four weeks had been the insanity of his schedule. He’d been pulling long hours planning the new division and working on the terms of the motor inn deal. And at no time during those weeks had he crossed paths with any women interesting enough to pull him away from work.

Amanda was interesting enough.

The words sang through him. True enough.

And that, of course, was why she was still on his radar.

As he drew closer to the house, he texted the butler to request that a driver and car be waiting for him by the time he’d grabbed his overnight bag from the trunk of his Mercedes. He’d leave his car here so that he could catch up on emails during the drive from the ranch to the Winston hanger at Love Field.

They’d been on the road for fifteen minutes, and Derek had managed to answer all of the morning’s emails, when his phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID, intending to ignore it unless it was his assistant, only to see that it was Jared.

“Where are you this week?”

“Aspen. You should come. The snow’s cold, but the women are hot.”

Derek chuckled. “I guess so. I thought you were in LA. Weren’t you all excited about optioning some author’s book to turn into a movie?”

“She was hot, too. But it didn’t work out.”

There was an unfamiliar edge in Jared’s tone. “What’s going on, man?”

“Nothing. Shit. Seriously, it’s no big thing.”

“What isn’t?”

“Carla. The author. Like I said, no big thing.”

From Jared’s tone, it sounded like it was a big thing.

“What happened?”

“She dumped me.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you were dating her?”

“I wasn’t. Maybe that was the problem. She dumped me as a producer. Said she didn’t trust me with the project. That I was fly-by-night.”

From Derek’s point of view, Carla sounded like a sharp woman. Jared had never worked in Hollywood, but he had the money to play. He’d gotten the itch to be a producer, which could turn out fine if he paid quality people to work with him. But from what Derek had seen, Jared was acting, not working. Playing the producer role without actually accomplishing anything except getting his face known at all the hottest clubs and a few mentions in The Hollywood Reporter.

“So I said fuck it and came to Colorado. You should come. I’ve met some lovely ladies who are happy to help me stay warm.”

“No can do. About to catch a plane to Austin.” And he wouldn’t go even if he could.

“Too bad. This is the life, my friend. Working in Hollywood was way too much trouble. Not worth the time if you don’t need the scratch.” But for the first time, there was something in Jared’s voice that made him think that his friend didn’t believe his own bullshit.

“You okay?”

“Just tired. Keeping busy, you know?”

The zing was back in Jared’s voice, and the shadow of worry that had settled over Derek started to dissipate.

“Fair enough. We’re at the airport, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Get your ass up to the city. It’s been too long.”

It had, but Derek hadn’t been in the mood for Manhattan lately. Instead, it had been Austin on his mind.

All he said, though, was, “Sure.”