Just One Look
Book Twelve of the Billionaire Barons of Texas Series
Chapter One
“Someone pass the potatoes, please.” Devlin Baron had no idea why not a single of the finest restaurants in the world could make garlic mashed potatoes the way Hazel, the family cook, did. If he could have only one food for the rest of his life, it would be a tough choice between any pasta dish in Hazel’s homemade marinara sauce or her garlic mashed potatoes. Thankfully, he didn’t need to choose.
“The way you shovel those potatoes down,” his cousin Eve shook her head, “I don’t understand why you aren’t as wide as you are tall.”
"Good metabolism.” Devlin grinned back at his cousin.
“Good genetics don’t hurt either.” His sister Leah waved a fork at her cousin.
What didn’t hurt was working out every morning without fail. On Devlin’s thirtieth birthday, he realized if he didn’t want to increase his pant size every year and still enjoy good food, he’d have to make some serious changes in his routine, and burning calories with an early morning workout had done the trick.
“All I have to say,” his other cousin Paige frowned at him, “is the charity gala is in just a week and you’d better still fit in your tux.”
“My tux fits just fine.” Though maybe if he’d just put on a few pounds instead of keeping fit, his cousin would stop roping him into the blasted bachelor auction. Nothing was more degrading than having rich, bored women bid on a person as if they were Lamborghini seized by the DEA.
“You don’t need to sound so grumpy about it.” Paige’s gaze lingered on him. “It’s for a very worthy cause.”
Which was the only reason he did this at all. Even though every year for the last five years his good friend and favorite plus one Emily had been buying him, adding to the gossip mill that they had a thing going. What no one knew was that the funds came from Devlin’s bank account every auction. Especially since every year that Courtney Collins Baker Rothschild, now Miller, and soon to be who knew who, disposed of her most recent husband, she would bid on Devlin with a vengeance. Two years ago Emily had a sneezing fit and Courtney almost won. Scared Devlin half to death. Courtney had been a barracuda when she’d set her sights on a Baron after divorcing her first husband. Only the appeal of the Rothschild name had distracted her from her mission of landing a Baron spouse. Now searching for hubby number four, Devlin knew the woman would be there with an open checkbook.
“Why is Devlin the only bachelor Baron?” Siobhan glanced at him before looking back to Paige.
“Only one Baron in an auction so we get a guarantee of top dollar. We really cleaned up the year Kyle stepped in for Devlin.”
“Must have been the race car thing,” Devlin teased.
“Ha ha.” Kyle rolled his eyes at his cousin. “Thank heaven Courtney was on her honeymoon with Rothschild that year or I’d have been toast.”
Leaning over the side of her chair, his grandmother Lila Baron scratched her dog Honey behind the ears. “I think it’s wonderful that you do this every year for such a good cause.”
His grandmother was right. That’s why he coughed up five figures every year to beat out Courtney. There were several things that Devlin was a sucker for, children, animals, and the underdog were top of his list, and the annual gala benefiting children aging out of the foster care system hit two of the top three things that he thought mattered more than the money in his bank account.
About to serve himself one more spoonful of Hazel’s beloved mashed potatoes, his phone dinged. Immediately his gaze shot up to meet his grandfather’s. Phones were a major no-no at the Baron dinner table. Normally he had his on vibrate, but tonight he’d forgotten to shift it before sitting down. “Excuse me a moment.”
Normally it would never occur to Devlin to leave the dinner table, but he’d been waiting to hear from his team on the newest project that was down to the wire. Devlin did commercial real estate development, but somehow he’d found himself dipping his toe into a residential project and now that the interest rates had risen higher than the noon sun, he was second-guessing his decision to take on this particular project. “Hello.”
“Sorry to bother you during dinner.” His right-hand man had worked for him long enough to know how important family dinner time was. “I found another source for staging. This one comes highly recommended and hopefully they’ll live up to the hype.”
Staging residential property in Houston wasn’t as popular as other parts of the country and, of course, the number one company for the job had almost every stock item in use for the Annual Rodeo. Who knew that a family rodeo even would require so much staging furniture. “Great. How fast?”
“Not as fast as you’d like, but better than the alternative option. The main three models will be fully staged next Monday.”
“I suppose that’s better than a poke in the eye with a stick.” Unlike most residential developments, this was a scattering of new and remodeled homes just north of the hustle and bustle of growing suburban communities. If they didn’t get them up and ready for showing before the spring rush, they’d be beaten down by the competition. He didn’t like it. But another week was better than the three-week timeline their regular staging company had provided. “I trust your judgment. Let’s go for it.”
* * * *
Elizabeth Louise Carter had been looking forward to her upcoming visit with her sister Emily. After much schmoozing and tooting her own horn, Liz was excited to be heading to Houston next week, combining business with pleasure.
“The drapery workroom is behind schedule.” Liz’s office manager rolled her eyes and sighed. “I wish they weren’t so good at their job because they are the most unorganized operation I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s the price of artistry.” Liz had to admit that Josephine Garcia knew how to make a statement with custom upholstery. For small home projects, artistry wasn’t required, but for the larger challenges, she needed Josephine’s vision.
“If you say so.” Her assistant sighed and then snapped her fingers. “Oh, your sister called while you were on the phone with Mr. Belker.”
“Thanks. I’ll call her now.” The Belker remodel was one job she deeply regretted taking on. Not that it was over her head, just breaking her heart. Mr. Belker was nice enough. A senior gentleman from family money and style had bought one of Dallas’s oldest homes on Swiss Avenue. He’d also married a woman half his age with the taste of a garden snail and hired Liz to help his new bride decorate the venerable old home. The house probably knew more about Mrs. Belker than Liz had—the moment they’d stepped out of the car to walk through the property, Liz could have sworn she saw the stately manor cringe. An hour later as Mrs. Belker bounced through the house criticizing every inch of detailed trim work and ornate workmanship, Liz wanted to run and hide. When Mrs. Belker suggested they tear down the semicircle grand staircase in the foyer and replace it with a modern floating staircase with iron rope rails, it took every ounce of reserve not to barf on the original polished marble floors.
The thought of destroying all the carefully crafted and irreplaceable grandeur of the old home was enough to make Liz cry. The problem, of course, was that walking away from the job only meant that someone else would destroy the home. Instead, she’d been stalling while racking her brain on how to make the smitten old goat and his youthful trophy wife update the house into the new millennium without losing all its valuable charm. So far she was failing miserably.
“Hey, sis.” The sound of Emily’s voice was a welcome reprieve from Liz’s crazy day.
“Hey,” Liz responded.
“Ooh, that sounds ominous.”
“How can ‘hey’ sound ominous?”
“It’s not the word, it’s the tone. I’ve been listening to yours for nine months longer than we’ve been alive. I know that tone. What’s wrong?”
“Not wrong just… well, yes wrong. I think I’m on the wrong side of the generation gap.”
“You’re not old enough to be on the wrong side. And I should know because I know exactly how old you are.”
One thing was true, if anyone could read her moods with just one word, it was Emily. “This new bride, barely old enough to legally drink, wants to destroy a beautiful old house and modernize it. And I use that word very, very loosely.”
“How modern?”
Liz actually groaned, loudly.
“Oh dear.”
“Yep. That about says it all. I’ve been doing my best to stall, but I’m running out of excuses.”
“Stall?”
“I don’t want to just walk away because some other unscrupulous designer will do whatever they want for the paycheck.”
“Maybe you need to do just that. At least it won’t be on your conscience.”
“Of course it will.” Liz sighed. “I wonder…”
“What? In case you’ve forgotten, we have the death penalty in Texas for premeditated murder.”
Oh, how Liz loved her sister. The laugh was exactly what she needed. “I was thinking more if I’m in Houston, they’ll just have to wait for the preliminary drawings.”
“Will they?”
“Probably. They picked me after my remodel of the Dugan house made the cover of the Dallas Magazine. Since the child bride wants to brag that I redid her house, yeah, I think she’ll wait. Besides, she’s perfectly content throwing parties in the first Mrs. Belker’s twenty thousand square foot mansion on Straight Lane.”
“Maybe she’ll get used to it and give up on the new one.”
“That would be too easy.” Liz glanced up at the calendar on her wall. “I know I’m not supposed to arrive for a few more days, but what say you to having your favorite sister—”
“And older.”
“By seven lousy minutes.”
“Whatever.” She could hear her sister’s amusement over the phone. Emily loved teasing Liz for being older.
“Okay. Your favorite, older, sister visiting for an extra weekend? Thought I’d pop into town tomorrow and we can have a wild Friday night eating popcorn and watching old movies.”
“Yes to all but the popcorn and old movies. Friday is the big Baron Bachelor Auction. I have to be there.”
“To bail Devlin out. Got it.”
“You can come too. It’s usually a fun event and the food is always amazing at the old country club.”
“Actually,” her spirits began to lift, “I bought a fabulous dress on sale months ago and am still looking for some place to wear it. Sounds like your little shindig is the ticket.”
“Terrific. I’ll get you a seat at our table.”
“Done. Who knows, maybe I’ll find myself a fun bachelor to bid on.”
“Elizabeth Louise.”
“Only kidding.” Liz laughed loudly. Maybe.
“Someone pass the potatoes, please.” Devlin Baron had no idea why not a single of the finest restaurants in the world could make garlic mashed potatoes the way Hazel, the family cook, did. If he could have only one food for the rest of his life, it would be a tough choice between any pasta dish in Hazel’s homemade marinara sauce or her garlic mashed potatoes. Thankfully, he didn’t need to choose.
“The way you shovel those potatoes down,” his cousin Eve shook her head, “I don’t understand why you aren’t as wide as you are tall.”
"Good metabolism.” Devlin grinned back at his cousin.
“Good genetics don’t hurt either.” His sister Leah waved a fork at her cousin.
What didn’t hurt was working out every morning without fail. On Devlin’s thirtieth birthday, he realized if he didn’t want to increase his pant size every year and still enjoy good food, he’d have to make some serious changes in his routine, and burning calories with an early morning workout had done the trick.
“All I have to say,” his other cousin Paige frowned at him, “is the charity gala is in just a week and you’d better still fit in your tux.”
“My tux fits just fine.” Though maybe if he’d just put on a few pounds instead of keeping fit, his cousin would stop roping him into the blasted bachelor auction. Nothing was more degrading than having rich, bored women bid on a person as if they were Lamborghini seized by the DEA.
“You don’t need to sound so grumpy about it.” Paige’s gaze lingered on him. “It’s for a very worthy cause.”
Which was the only reason he did this at all. Even though every year for the last five years his good friend and favorite plus one Emily had been buying him, adding to the gossip mill that they had a thing going. What no one knew was that the funds came from Devlin’s bank account every auction. Especially since every year that Courtney Collins Baker Rothschild, now Miller, and soon to be who knew who, disposed of her most recent husband, she would bid on Devlin with a vengeance. Two years ago Emily had a sneezing fit and Courtney almost won. Scared Devlin half to death. Courtney had been a barracuda when she’d set her sights on a Baron after divorcing her first husband. Only the appeal of the Rothschild name had distracted her from her mission of landing a Baron spouse. Now searching for hubby number four, Devlin knew the woman would be there with an open checkbook.
“Why is Devlin the only bachelor Baron?” Siobhan glanced at him before looking back to Paige.
“Only one Baron in an auction so we get a guarantee of top dollar. We really cleaned up the year Kyle stepped in for Devlin.”
“Must have been the race car thing,” Devlin teased.
“Ha ha.” Kyle rolled his eyes at his cousin. “Thank heaven Courtney was on her honeymoon with Rothschild that year or I’d have been toast.”
Leaning over the side of her chair, his grandmother Lila Baron scratched her dog Honey behind the ears. “I think it’s wonderful that you do this every year for such a good cause.”
His grandmother was right. That’s why he coughed up five figures every year to beat out Courtney. There were several things that Devlin was a sucker for, children, animals, and the underdog were top of his list, and the annual gala benefiting children aging out of the foster care system hit two of the top three things that he thought mattered more than the money in his bank account.
About to serve himself one more spoonful of Hazel’s beloved mashed potatoes, his phone dinged. Immediately his gaze shot up to meet his grandfather’s. Phones were a major no-no at the Baron dinner table. Normally he had his on vibrate, but tonight he’d forgotten to shift it before sitting down. “Excuse me a moment.”
Normally it would never occur to Devlin to leave the dinner table, but he’d been waiting to hear from his team on the newest project that was down to the wire. Devlin did commercial real estate development, but somehow he’d found himself dipping his toe into a residential project and now that the interest rates had risen higher than the noon sun, he was second-guessing his decision to take on this particular project. “Hello.”
“Sorry to bother you during dinner.” His right-hand man had worked for him long enough to know how important family dinner time was. “I found another source for staging. This one comes highly recommended and hopefully they’ll live up to the hype.”
Staging residential property in Houston wasn’t as popular as other parts of the country and, of course, the number one company for the job had almost every stock item in use for the Annual Rodeo. Who knew that a family rodeo even would require so much staging furniture. “Great. How fast?”
“Not as fast as you’d like, but better than the alternative option. The main three models will be fully staged next Monday.”
“I suppose that’s better than a poke in the eye with a stick.” Unlike most residential developments, this was a scattering of new and remodeled homes just north of the hustle and bustle of growing suburban communities. If they didn’t get them up and ready for showing before the spring rush, they’d be beaten down by the competition. He didn’t like it. But another week was better than the three-week timeline their regular staging company had provided. “I trust your judgment. Let’s go for it.”
* * * *
Elizabeth Louise Carter had been looking forward to her upcoming visit with her sister Emily. After much schmoozing and tooting her own horn, Liz was excited to be heading to Houston next week, combining business with pleasure.
“The drapery workroom is behind schedule.” Liz’s office manager rolled her eyes and sighed. “I wish they weren’t so good at their job because they are the most unorganized operation I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s the price of artistry.” Liz had to admit that Josephine Garcia knew how to make a statement with custom upholstery. For small home projects, artistry wasn’t required, but for the larger challenges, she needed Josephine’s vision.
“If you say so.” Her assistant sighed and then snapped her fingers. “Oh, your sister called while you were on the phone with Mr. Belker.”
“Thanks. I’ll call her now.” The Belker remodel was one job she deeply regretted taking on. Not that it was over her head, just breaking her heart. Mr. Belker was nice enough. A senior gentleman from family money and style had bought one of Dallas’s oldest homes on Swiss Avenue. He’d also married a woman half his age with the taste of a garden snail and hired Liz to help his new bride decorate the venerable old home. The house probably knew more about Mrs. Belker than Liz had—the moment they’d stepped out of the car to walk through the property, Liz could have sworn she saw the stately manor cringe. An hour later as Mrs. Belker bounced through the house criticizing every inch of detailed trim work and ornate workmanship, Liz wanted to run and hide. When Mrs. Belker suggested they tear down the semicircle grand staircase in the foyer and replace it with a modern floating staircase with iron rope rails, it took every ounce of reserve not to barf on the original polished marble floors.
The thought of destroying all the carefully crafted and irreplaceable grandeur of the old home was enough to make Liz cry. The problem, of course, was that walking away from the job only meant that someone else would destroy the home. Instead, she’d been stalling while racking her brain on how to make the smitten old goat and his youthful trophy wife update the house into the new millennium without losing all its valuable charm. So far she was failing miserably.
“Hey, sis.” The sound of Emily’s voice was a welcome reprieve from Liz’s crazy day.
“Hey,” Liz responded.
“Ooh, that sounds ominous.”
“How can ‘hey’ sound ominous?”
“It’s not the word, it’s the tone. I’ve been listening to yours for nine months longer than we’ve been alive. I know that tone. What’s wrong?”
“Not wrong just… well, yes wrong. I think I’m on the wrong side of the generation gap.”
“You’re not old enough to be on the wrong side. And I should know because I know exactly how old you are.”
One thing was true, if anyone could read her moods with just one word, it was Emily. “This new bride, barely old enough to legally drink, wants to destroy a beautiful old house and modernize it. And I use that word very, very loosely.”
“How modern?”
Liz actually groaned, loudly.
“Oh dear.”
“Yep. That about says it all. I’ve been doing my best to stall, but I’m running out of excuses.”
“Stall?”
“I don’t want to just walk away because some other unscrupulous designer will do whatever they want for the paycheck.”
“Maybe you need to do just that. At least it won’t be on your conscience.”
“Of course it will.” Liz sighed. “I wonder…”
“What? In case you’ve forgotten, we have the death penalty in Texas for premeditated murder.”
Oh, how Liz loved her sister. The laugh was exactly what she needed. “I was thinking more if I’m in Houston, they’ll just have to wait for the preliminary drawings.”
“Will they?”
“Probably. They picked me after my remodel of the Dugan house made the cover of the Dallas Magazine. Since the child bride wants to brag that I redid her house, yeah, I think she’ll wait. Besides, she’s perfectly content throwing parties in the first Mrs. Belker’s twenty thousand square foot mansion on Straight Lane.”
“Maybe she’ll get used to it and give up on the new one.”
“That would be too easy.” Liz glanced up at the calendar on her wall. “I know I’m not supposed to arrive for a few more days, but what say you to having your favorite sister—”
“And older.”
“By seven lousy minutes.”
“Whatever.” She could hear her sister’s amusement over the phone. Emily loved teasing Liz for being older.
“Okay. Your favorite, older, sister visiting for an extra weekend? Thought I’d pop into town tomorrow and we can have a wild Friday night eating popcorn and watching old movies.”
“Yes to all but the popcorn and old movies. Friday is the big Baron Bachelor Auction. I have to be there.”
“To bail Devlin out. Got it.”
“You can come too. It’s usually a fun event and the food is always amazing at the old country club.”
“Actually,” her spirits began to lift, “I bought a fabulous dress on sale months ago and am still looking for some place to wear it. Sounds like your little shindig is the ticket.”
“Terrific. I’ll get you a seat at our table.”
“Done. Who knows, maybe I’ll find myself a fun bachelor to bid on.”
“Elizabeth Louise.”
“Only kidding.” Liz laughed loudly. Maybe.
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