A Wild Red Rose Read Online Free

grocery business in San Antonio. My dad made me work with him every summer—after school, too, stocking shelves and such. We lived over the store.”
    All but the last parts were true. He’d been at boarding school most of the year, but in summer he’d traveled with his father, sitting in on board meetings around the world, very much the Beck’s Baked Beans crown prince. Beck’s Spicy Beans were very popular in South America, and he’d gotten to practice his Spanish, but in the end, too little playtime caused him to rebel. He’d gotten the MBA to please his father, then simply couldn’t do the corporate heir routine anymore.
    He wanted freedom, the open road, and danger, not a corner office for the rest of his life. He’d tried bullfighting on a bet, was damned good at it thanks to years on the gymnastic team, and he’d saved lives—which was more than baked beans ever did. His mother urged Gunter Beck to let the boy have his fling. Gunter Beck made his son, Clinton O. Beck, sign a valid contract stating that ten years hence, or any time before that period ended, his son would report for duty to the family business or have his trust fund revoked.
    Mostly, he didn’t give a shit about his trust fund, but his mother hinted more and more often that his iron-willed father needed help with the business whether Gunter would admit it or not.
    “My mama says, marry a man with a grocery store and you’ll never go hungry. Might not get rich, but you won’t starve. Maybe I should buy you some groceries before I leave,” Clint said as his past flickered through his mind.
    “I don’t need groceries. I dine out with men and otherwise don’t want the temptation of food around. I have to watch my weight.”
    Clint had spied the exercise equipment in a spare bedroom when he’d passed along the hall with the tray. The machines were as heavy duty as the ones he worked out on between bullfights.
    “I don’t see as you got any weight problem, except for being a little top-heavy. They ain’t real, I guess.” He stared mournfully at her naked breasts.
    “Well, to be honest, no. After my divorce, I felt very insecure. Gerry, my second husband, bought them for me. He said I didn’t need them, but I did need a lift, so I went all the way. Don’t you like them?” Renee peered down at herself, thoughtfully rolling a small piece of cheese into a little ball with her fingers.
    “They sure are pretty, but they make me sad.”
    “How so?”
    “Guess you’ll never nurse my babies with those titties.”
    Renee, horrified, exclaimed, “I don’t plan on nursing anyone’s babies! Eve will ruin her figure, wait and see. You did use a condom? I know I put the first one on you, but what about the second time?”
    “Didn’t mean to spook you. ’Course I used a condom. We don’t know each other that well a’tall to go without. You are on the pill, ain’t you?”
    “No.”
    Clint took a turn at being horrified. He’d been in a hurry and hadn’t gotten the second one on as snugly as he liked.
    “I use a diaphragm and a spermatocide. The pills make me retain water and give me nausea.”
    “Oh, good. I didn’t know anyone used those anymore. My mama said I came into the world because of a loose diaphragm, the best mistake she ever made.”
    “You’re an only child?”
    “Heck, no. I got older sisters, both married with kids. Takes the heat off of me to reproduce until I get hitched.”
    “I’m not interested in marriage.”
    Now, that was a damned lie according to Bodey. What Renee meant was she didn’t want to be the wife of a bullfighter or help to run a grocery store. That sort of irked Clinton O. Beck. He’d be plenty good enough for her if she knew his real net worth. Somewhere along the line, this fabulous woman had been spoiled for the ordinary pleasures of life and turned into a man-eater. He had half a mind to teach her people could be happy without great gobs of money. He met them every day when he was out on