Just One Spark
Book Two of the Billionaire Barons of Texas Series
Chapter One
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Kyle Baron’s sister Eve threw her purse onto the white leather sofa on the family yacht and stood with her hands on her hips. “Do you have any idea how many years you just shaved off of my life?”
With only one hand, Kyle poured himself a drink.
Eve glared at her brother. “A little early in the day to start drinking, don’t you think?”
“It would be if it were something stronger than cola.” He took a slow sip of the fizzing drink. “I gather Gilbert called you?”
“He. Did.”
The sharpness in his sister’s voice made the hackles on the back of his neck rise. He did his best not to wince at the venomous tone. “Do I want to know what he said?”
Her hands still fisted firmly on her hips, she stared daggers at him. “I was informed, in a voice mail, that you went skydiving. That alone wasn’t alarming considering speed and risk go hand and hand with you. We’re all used to it. The problem is the next part.
Apparently, you had a little accident.”
He didn’t dare meet her gaze.
“How the hell do you have a little accident falling thousands of feet out of an airplane?”
“You don’t.”
“Exactly.” Now her foot was tapping. “I had visions of your body splattered across miles of empty field. Piece by bloody piece.”
Now he did wince.
“Thank heavens the hospital informed me you were alive before I called Mom or worse, the Governor and Grams. News like you’d been in a skydiving accident could have sent all three of them to their graves. At least all I need now is for my hairdresser to hide the newly sprouted strands of gray.”
He really would have to have a chat with Gilbert about what information his manager shared with his next of kin. In Kyle’s profession, there just might be a day when he really was sprawled piece by piece across a track and voice mail was not how he wanted his family told. “I’m sorry. Really.”
Finally, on a long slow breath, her hands fell to her sides and a softer expression washed over her face. “Why couldn’t you have been an accountant?”
That made him chuckle. His entire life his mother had tried to steer him in the direction of a stable career. What she really meant was safe. Sadly for his mother’s nerves, few things in life could beat the adrenaline rush of coming across the finish line at almost 200 mph. If there was a thrill involved, whether it was on land, on the water, or in the air, Kyle was all in. To his family’s chagrin, he’d opted for a high-risk land career. More precisely, racing. Precious little beat flying around a track and leaving others in your dust. The only career possibly more invigorating than racing might have been a fighter pilot. Both machines were powerful, required skilled operators with nerves of steel to maneuver, and provided the opportunity for speed on steroids. Even though there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that Kyle was an adrenaline junkie who had the right stuff to be a jet jock, having grown up in the limelight of a former Marine Colonel, Kyle knew following strict orders twenty-four seven was not his thing. He needed freedom and control to do what he wanted when he wanted.
Which is how he wound up here now with a very distraught sister. Still feeling the need for some of that in-flight adrenaline, skydiving was his ticket. What he hadn’t expected was for the statistics on his way of life to kick in now. Too many drivers fell into adversity not on the track as spectators would expect, but after the races. As with drivers who survived long careers behind the wheel unscathed only to be taken out skiing or cleaning gutters, he’d enjoyed an injury free career so far only to find himself in a cast for the next six weeks, not from a racetrack mishap, not even from his recent tumble out of an airplane. No, his broken wrist came from slipping on a bar of soap while changing in the men’s room after successfully skydiving on a clear sunny day.
“How long are you out for?”
Lost in his own thoughts about the stupid fall, the extra challenges his absence from the circuit would mean for his team and the green back up driver, he struggled for the words to make his sister feel at least a little better. “Maybe six weeks.”
“Maybe?” One brow rose higher than the other, and shaking her head, she blew out a sigh and stood up. “I think I need that drink.”
“Isn’t it a little early in the day,” he teased.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
Kyle followed his sister to the bar and too quickly realized with only one working hand, he was not going to be uncorking wine bottles anytime soon. At least the injury had happened during the summer break—one of the reason’s he’d gone skydiving at all. With three weeks left to the natural hiatus, he’d only miss one or two season races at best.
“So.” She poured half a glass of her favorite white merlot. “What’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“Yes. You’re injured. Last time I looked, even if you could work the paddle shifters, there’s no way to undo your harness and remove the steering wheel fast enough to qualify for the race with one hand in a cast.”
Didn’t he know that one. It also didn’t help any that the darn wrist was throbbing despite the meds the doctor had given him. “No driving for now.”
“And jumping out of airplanes? Or do you need two hands for that?”
“One hand will do, but I’m not planning on going back out anytime soon.”
“Well, there’s that.” She took a slow sip of her wine. “At least none of us will have to worry for a little while.”
And that darn near broke his heart. As much as he loved racing for a living, he hated worrying his family. “I really am sorry Gilbert scared you.”
“I know.” For the first time since she’d stomped onto the yacht, the corners of her mouth tipped upward in a tired smile. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I have an idea.”
“Should I be worried?” Sometimes his brilliant geeky sister came up with fantastic ideas, and other times, well, he and his brothers were better off running for the hills.
She rolled her eyes skyward. “Since you can’t try and kill yourself for the next few weeks, why don’t you recuperate at the ranch? Grams would love to have you and I think having you intact under her roof will make this little accident more palatable.”
His kid sister had a point. At least this idea wouldn’t be so awful. As a matter of fact, it was a pretty good idea. He loved the ranch as much as the yacht, but moored off shore, the Baroness could start to feel stifling, especially for six weeks. Yep, bless his little sister, she was right, the ranch and his grandmother’s love was just what the doctor ordered.
* * * * *
Addison Raymond stared at the screen in front of her, shook her head, and then picking up a traditional number two pencil, began scribbling on a scratch pad.
“I don’t know how you use those things.” Her coworker Jen stood in the entryway of the oversized cubicle that didn’t quite qualify as a private office.
“You know I don’t like mechanical pencils.” Even as a little kid, she loved drawing with sharpened pencils. To her, mechanical pencils always felt dull. There was also something soothing about the whirring sound of an electric pencil sharpener.
“You also may be the only person in the building who actually sharpens pencils.”
“That’s not possible.” There were plenty of old fogies in her department who still used pencils, adding machines, and white board.
Though in all honesty, she had no idea why those same people had a deep rooted aversion to software. Still struggling with her latest project, she tossed the pencil down, leaned back in the chair and smiled up at her friend. “Can I help with anything?”
Jen shook her head. “Not unless you know someone looking for a mechanical engineer who hasn’t done engineering in a very long while.”
“What? Why?”
“Deb in personnel just told me on the QT that an emergency board meeting was called this morning.”
Addison glanced down the hall. She couldn’t see the executive board room from her space, but she had noticed the CEO and a few other company bigwigs getting off the elevator a couple of hours ago. “Are we sure it’s not a scheduled meeting? You know how the good old boys love an excuse to show off to each other.”
“I wish. Rumor is that the quarterly reports are in and are disastrous. Next quarter’s forecast isn’t any better.”
“This won’t be the first time the numbers have been bad. We’ve weathered economic downturns before and survived.”
Jen spun around and leaned back on the desk. “This time feels different. Electric cars and green energy weren’t as popular as they are now.”
“Or as politically correct.” As much as she wished it weren’t so, there was a knot in her stomach that had been twisting every so often with the negative news reports and industry gossip. “Let’s just hope the grapevine has got it all wrong.”
“I hope so.”
As difficult as it was, Addison did her best to paste on a reassuring smile. “Like I said, we’ve weathered worse.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.” Jen pushed away from the desk. “I’d better get back to my cubby. Just in case you’re right and I really do still have a job.”
“There you go,” Addison chuckled, “positive attitude.”
Jen rolled her eyes and raising one finger in the air in an off handed wave, continued down the hall.
Reaching for her freshly sharpened pencil, Addison returned to the challenges at hand. She knew the answer was right in front of her and she simply wasn’t seeing it. Maybe it was time for a little fresh air. Clean her mental pallet. Between her cubicle here in town and her office at home, she spent too much time hovered over a desk. She really did need to stop taking her work home with her. Spend more down time with friends. Catch a movie in a real theater with real surround sound. She didn’t dare stop to reflect on how long had it been since she’d spent an hour with anyone who wasn’t on the company payroll.
As soon as this project was finalized, she’d do that. She would, but for now, water bottle in hand, she strolled down the hall and pushed the elevator button. One of the things she loved about working in downtown Houston this time of year was access to the rooftop patio. A few minutes high above the world might give her new perspective.
The door behind her opened and one by one, the company executives filed out of the board room. Low murmurs filled the narrow hallway slowly ebbing to unnatural silence. The elevator door opened and she was tempted to lag behind in case anyone actually said anything important, hopefully reassuring. Instead, she went about her business. After all, that’s what she was getting paid for, not for eavesdropping.
Three of the dozen execs stepped into the elevator with her. The silence hung heavily. Using the special key for the senior executive floor, the three others exited the small space in continued silence. The ropes that had twisted on and off in her stomach recently, now weighed heavily inside her. Like it or not, her gut screamed Jen was right. Something very unpleasant just went down in that all-morning meeting and if in the end she wasn’t looking for a new job, then her name wasn’t Addison Lynn Raymond.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Kyle Baron’s sister Eve threw her purse onto the white leather sofa on the family yacht and stood with her hands on her hips. “Do you have any idea how many years you just shaved off of my life?”
With only one hand, Kyle poured himself a drink.
Eve glared at her brother. “A little early in the day to start drinking, don’t you think?”
“It would be if it were something stronger than cola.” He took a slow sip of the fizzing drink. “I gather Gilbert called you?”
“He. Did.”
The sharpness in his sister’s voice made the hackles on the back of his neck rise. He did his best not to wince at the venomous tone. “Do I want to know what he said?”
Her hands still fisted firmly on her hips, she stared daggers at him. “I was informed, in a voice mail, that you went skydiving. That alone wasn’t alarming considering speed and risk go hand and hand with you. We’re all used to it. The problem is the next part.
Apparently, you had a little accident.”
He didn’t dare meet her gaze.
“How the hell do you have a little accident falling thousands of feet out of an airplane?”
“You don’t.”
“Exactly.” Now her foot was tapping. “I had visions of your body splattered across miles of empty field. Piece by bloody piece.”
Now he did wince.
“Thank heavens the hospital informed me you were alive before I called Mom or worse, the Governor and Grams. News like you’d been in a skydiving accident could have sent all three of them to their graves. At least all I need now is for my hairdresser to hide the newly sprouted strands of gray.”
He really would have to have a chat with Gilbert about what information his manager shared with his next of kin. In Kyle’s profession, there just might be a day when he really was sprawled piece by piece across a track and voice mail was not how he wanted his family told. “I’m sorry. Really.”
Finally, on a long slow breath, her hands fell to her sides and a softer expression washed over her face. “Why couldn’t you have been an accountant?”
That made him chuckle. His entire life his mother had tried to steer him in the direction of a stable career. What she really meant was safe. Sadly for his mother’s nerves, few things in life could beat the adrenaline rush of coming across the finish line at almost 200 mph. If there was a thrill involved, whether it was on land, on the water, or in the air, Kyle was all in. To his family’s chagrin, he’d opted for a high-risk land career. More precisely, racing. Precious little beat flying around a track and leaving others in your dust. The only career possibly more invigorating than racing might have been a fighter pilot. Both machines were powerful, required skilled operators with nerves of steel to maneuver, and provided the opportunity for speed on steroids. Even though there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that Kyle was an adrenaline junkie who had the right stuff to be a jet jock, having grown up in the limelight of a former Marine Colonel, Kyle knew following strict orders twenty-four seven was not his thing. He needed freedom and control to do what he wanted when he wanted.
Which is how he wound up here now with a very distraught sister. Still feeling the need for some of that in-flight adrenaline, skydiving was his ticket. What he hadn’t expected was for the statistics on his way of life to kick in now. Too many drivers fell into adversity not on the track as spectators would expect, but after the races. As with drivers who survived long careers behind the wheel unscathed only to be taken out skiing or cleaning gutters, he’d enjoyed an injury free career so far only to find himself in a cast for the next six weeks, not from a racetrack mishap, not even from his recent tumble out of an airplane. No, his broken wrist came from slipping on a bar of soap while changing in the men’s room after successfully skydiving on a clear sunny day.
“How long are you out for?”
Lost in his own thoughts about the stupid fall, the extra challenges his absence from the circuit would mean for his team and the green back up driver, he struggled for the words to make his sister feel at least a little better. “Maybe six weeks.”
“Maybe?” One brow rose higher than the other, and shaking her head, she blew out a sigh and stood up. “I think I need that drink.”
“Isn’t it a little early in the day,” he teased.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
Kyle followed his sister to the bar and too quickly realized with only one working hand, he was not going to be uncorking wine bottles anytime soon. At least the injury had happened during the summer break—one of the reason’s he’d gone skydiving at all. With three weeks left to the natural hiatus, he’d only miss one or two season races at best.
“So.” She poured half a glass of her favorite white merlot. “What’s the plan?”
“Plan?”
“Yes. You’re injured. Last time I looked, even if you could work the paddle shifters, there’s no way to undo your harness and remove the steering wheel fast enough to qualify for the race with one hand in a cast.”
Didn’t he know that one. It also didn’t help any that the darn wrist was throbbing despite the meds the doctor had given him. “No driving for now.”
“And jumping out of airplanes? Or do you need two hands for that?”
“One hand will do, but I’m not planning on going back out anytime soon.”
“Well, there’s that.” She took a slow sip of her wine. “At least none of us will have to worry for a little while.”
And that darn near broke his heart. As much as he loved racing for a living, he hated worrying his family. “I really am sorry Gilbert scared you.”
“I know.” For the first time since she’d stomped onto the yacht, the corners of her mouth tipped upward in a tired smile. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I have an idea.”
“Should I be worried?” Sometimes his brilliant geeky sister came up with fantastic ideas, and other times, well, he and his brothers were better off running for the hills.
She rolled her eyes skyward. “Since you can’t try and kill yourself for the next few weeks, why don’t you recuperate at the ranch? Grams would love to have you and I think having you intact under her roof will make this little accident more palatable.”
His kid sister had a point. At least this idea wouldn’t be so awful. As a matter of fact, it was a pretty good idea. He loved the ranch as much as the yacht, but moored off shore, the Baroness could start to feel stifling, especially for six weeks. Yep, bless his little sister, she was right, the ranch and his grandmother’s love was just what the doctor ordered.
* * * * *
Addison Raymond stared at the screen in front of her, shook her head, and then picking up a traditional number two pencil, began scribbling on a scratch pad.
“I don’t know how you use those things.” Her coworker Jen stood in the entryway of the oversized cubicle that didn’t quite qualify as a private office.
“You know I don’t like mechanical pencils.” Even as a little kid, she loved drawing with sharpened pencils. To her, mechanical pencils always felt dull. There was also something soothing about the whirring sound of an electric pencil sharpener.
“You also may be the only person in the building who actually sharpens pencils.”
“That’s not possible.” There were plenty of old fogies in her department who still used pencils, adding machines, and white board.
Though in all honesty, she had no idea why those same people had a deep rooted aversion to software. Still struggling with her latest project, she tossed the pencil down, leaned back in the chair and smiled up at her friend. “Can I help with anything?”
Jen shook her head. “Not unless you know someone looking for a mechanical engineer who hasn’t done engineering in a very long while.”
“What? Why?”
“Deb in personnel just told me on the QT that an emergency board meeting was called this morning.”
Addison glanced down the hall. She couldn’t see the executive board room from her space, but she had noticed the CEO and a few other company bigwigs getting off the elevator a couple of hours ago. “Are we sure it’s not a scheduled meeting? You know how the good old boys love an excuse to show off to each other.”
“I wish. Rumor is that the quarterly reports are in and are disastrous. Next quarter’s forecast isn’t any better.”
“This won’t be the first time the numbers have been bad. We’ve weathered economic downturns before and survived.”
Jen spun around and leaned back on the desk. “This time feels different. Electric cars and green energy weren’t as popular as they are now.”
“Or as politically correct.” As much as she wished it weren’t so, there was a knot in her stomach that had been twisting every so often with the negative news reports and industry gossip. “Let’s just hope the grapevine has got it all wrong.”
“I hope so.”
As difficult as it was, Addison did her best to paste on a reassuring smile. “Like I said, we’ve weathered worse.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.” Jen pushed away from the desk. “I’d better get back to my cubby. Just in case you’re right and I really do still have a job.”
“There you go,” Addison chuckled, “positive attitude.”
Jen rolled her eyes and raising one finger in the air in an off handed wave, continued down the hall.
Reaching for her freshly sharpened pencil, Addison returned to the challenges at hand. She knew the answer was right in front of her and she simply wasn’t seeing it. Maybe it was time for a little fresh air. Clean her mental pallet. Between her cubicle here in town and her office at home, she spent too much time hovered over a desk. She really did need to stop taking her work home with her. Spend more down time with friends. Catch a movie in a real theater with real surround sound. She didn’t dare stop to reflect on how long had it been since she’d spent an hour with anyone who wasn’t on the company payroll.
As soon as this project was finalized, she’d do that. She would, but for now, water bottle in hand, she strolled down the hall and pushed the elevator button. One of the things she loved about working in downtown Houston this time of year was access to the rooftop patio. A few minutes high above the world might give her new perspective.
The door behind her opened and one by one, the company executives filed out of the board room. Low murmurs filled the narrow hallway slowly ebbing to unnatural silence. The elevator door opened and she was tempted to lag behind in case anyone actually said anything important, hopefully reassuring. Instead, she went about her business. After all, that’s what she was getting paid for, not for eavesdropping.
Three of the dozen execs stepped into the elevator with her. The silence hung heavily. Using the special key for the senior executive floor, the three others exited the small space in continued silence. The ropes that had twisted on and off in her stomach recently, now weighed heavily inside her. Like it or not, her gut screamed Jen was right. Something very unpleasant just went down in that all-morning meeting and if in the end she wasn’t looking for a new job, then her name wasn’t Addison Lynn Raymond.