Wild West Fortune

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “I guess I don’t have to ask if you received the package I mailed.” She hitched the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder.

  “It came today.”

  That surprised her. Her gaze flicked up to his, then away. “I see.”

  She couldn’t possibly. “Can we go up to your apartment and talk?”

  Her chin lifted slightly. “I don’t think so.”

  His jaw tightened. “So we’re going to do this right here on the sidewalk with people walking by us every ten seconds?” He smiled tightly at the bicyclist who wove around them.

  “Do what, Jayden?”

  “Are you going to cut and run every time we have a disagreement?”

  Her lips rounded. “I—What? Cut and run?” She glared. “Should I have stayed and let you accuse me of being a...a slut for the third time?”

  “I didn’t accuse you of being a slut.”

  “What would you call it, then? As if I’d sleep with—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her lips slowly closed.

  “If you wanted to turn the knife, the note with the check did the job. Four words is all it took. ‘For lodging and incidentals.’”

  “I told you I was better on paper,” she muttered.

  She was good on paper. Really good with words. She knew just how to use them to make her point. “The article about the Ybarras was amazing. Before I left Paseo, I stopped by their place to drop off the magazine for them.”

  She opened her mouth again. “I mailed—”

  “I know. They already had the copies you mailed to them. Paloma said to tell you gracias. She was already planning to frame one copy and figuring out where to hang it in the new house.”

  The corners of her lips curved faintly. “How is their house coming?”

  “Framing is already done.”

  “Even in Paseo, things can get done quickly.” She sidestepped so another bicyclist could pass and looked toward her building. “I’m glad for them.”

  The sun behind him shone over her profile.

  “You were right,” he said abruptly.

  Her lashes lowered again. He could see the slow breath she took. Then she looked at him. There was no need to elaborate. She knew that he was talking about Jerome Fortune. “I’m sorry.”

  “It means you’ve got at least one meaty chapter for your book.”

  She chewed off some of the pink lip gloss on her soft lips. “No.”

  “You can’t write a book about the man’s secrets and not include my mother.”

  “I’m not writing a book about Jerome Fortune. Not anymore.” She shifted. Her hands were wrapped so tightly around her purse strap, her knuckles were white. “I returned the advance yesterday. I, uh, also resigned from the magazine.”

  If she’d announced she had married the Pope, he couldn’t have been more confused. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t write any more stories about the Fortunes. I’m too involved—” She chewed off a little more pink shine. “I’m not objective enough. I’m too biased now. So you’d better cash the check fast if you don’t want it to bounce.”

  He ignored that. “You love writing.”

  “Yeah, well.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I’ll try fiction this time.” She gestured toward the apartment building. “I need to turn in my notice on my place before the manager’s office closes or I’m going to be on the hook for another month of rent that I can’t really afford anymore. So—”

  “Did you mean what you said?”

  “Uh. Yeah. As it is, I’m probably going to have to sleep in my car if I don’t tuck my tail and go home to Mommy and Daddy. Mom changed my childhood bedroom into a gift-wrapping room—” she air-quoted it “—but she’ll be okay. She’ll content herself by telling me ‘I told you so’ about the way I handle money.”

  He shook his head, as if to clear away her answer. “No, I was asking if you meant what you said about me.” From the look in her eyes, she knew good and well what he’d meant.

  “Jayden—”

  “Do you love me or not?”

  Her lips firmed. “God knows why, considering you’re such a patient soul, but yes.”

  It all oozed out. The anger he’d harbored since she’d bolted from the ranch.

  The worry that he’d damaged things beyond repair.

  “I love you, too.”

  She huffed. “No, you don’t.”

  He took a step toward her. The fact that she didn’t take one away from him he took as a good sign. “I do. You make great coffee.”

  Her lips compressed.

  “What you do for an ugly tie-dyed shirt is amazing.”

  She rolled her eyes, flushed a little and crossed her arms.

  “The things that you make me feel are nothing short of a miracle.”

  Her eyes flickered. She looked away.

  “I don’t know what else to do here, Ariana.” He took another step closer. “This isn’t exactly familiar territory.”

  “You haven’t been to Austin before?”

  “I haven’t been in love like this before.”

  Her jaw shifted. “Tess—”

  “Was a pale comparison. If I had a ring, I’d pull it out right now and go on bended knee.” He hadn’t even considered where they’d go if he could get her to forgive him. But the second his words were out, he knew they were right.

  Her eyes widened and focused on him. “So what’s stopping you?”

  “I drove straight here from Paseo. Do not pass go. Do not stop at jewelry stores.”

  She lifted her chin. “You still have a knee, don’t you?”

  “Okay. Fine. You want me to grovel a bit. I can live with that.” He grabbed her arm before she could avoid him and pulled her off the sidewalk. At least the main part of it where bicyclists and pedestrians were constantly passing them. Then he dropped to one knee.

  “Jayden, I wasn’t serious—”

  “But I am.” He closed his hands over hers. “Ariana, I don’t know what to offer you that you can’t already do for yourself. You’re nearly ten years younger than me. When I’m sixty, you’ll—”

  “—still be in love with you,” she said huskily. She pulled on his hands. “Get up, former Sergeant Fortune. I can’t handle you being all sweet and tender like this. It makes me nervous.”

  “I’m trying to propose here, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

  “Yeah, honey,” said a heavyset woman with gray hair who passed them on her way into the building. “Don’t ruin his moment.”

  Ariana flushed. She pulled harder on his hands, but he still resisted and she huffed. “Fine. But you don’t have to propose just because you think—” She broke off.

  “Because I think what?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know what you think. I don’t know what to think. You come here after everything and—” She shook her head. “Dammit!”

  He stood up and stepped closer until his chest touched the words on her T-shirt. “Do you want me to get you some paper so you can write it down?”

  Her eyes flashed at him. But the glint of tears in them nearly undid him.

  He slid his hands along her jaw and tipped her face up to his. “I love you,” he murmured. “That’s what I think. That’s what I feel. I’m going to keep loving you no matter what you say here on this sidewalk. I’m gonna love you when I’m sixty and you’re a hottie fifty-year-old grandma.”

  “Grandma!” The word escaped on a gurgle of choked laughter and tears. “I’m twenty-seven. If I’m going to be a grandma at fifty, you’re planning on some fast work. Not to mention putting some big expectations on that grandchild’s parent.”

  “That grandchild’s parent would be our child.”

  “I
know that.”

  “Okay, so maybe you’ll be a hottie grandma at sixty. And I’ll be a doddering old rancher at seventy.”

  “You’ll never be doddering.” She swiped her cheek, then made a face when her fingers came away black. “And you’re making my mascara run.”

  “Sweetheart, I’ve seen you in pond scum. You’re always beautiful to me.”

  She laughed and sniffed. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Take me upstairs? It might’ve escaped your notice, but it’s hot as hell out here.”

  She took his hand and led the way into the apartment building.

  It hadn’t escaped his attention that she hadn’t yet said yes.

  But he’d take what he could get.

  For now.

  The elevator they rode up in was crowded. Too crowded to do anything other than stand close behind her as they rode up to the sixth floor.

  When they walked down the hallway to her door, he could still hear that same dog yapping. “He ever quiet down?”

  “Rufio?” She tapped her keys on the neighbor’s door as they passed it and the dog yelped and went silent. “He just wants to know someone’s out here.” She unlocked her own door and gave him a diffident look before going inside. “Don’t expect much,” she warned.

  He hadn’t expected anything. All he’d thought about was her.

  But the apartment was nearly bare. She had a patterned sofa that looked straight out of the eighties and a folding card table that was piled high with books and papers. A single floor lamp stood next to the table.

  “Minimalist decorating style, I see.”

  She dropped her purse on the granite kitchen bar as she crossed the open room to the wall of windows on the other side. “Furniture detracts from the view,” she said blithely.

  The view of her in front of the Austin skyline was pretty perfect.

  She spread her arms. “So this is the living area and the kitchen.”

  “Good. A tour. I was hoping.”

  She toed off her sandals and walked through the open doorway to the right. He followed. “Here we have the master suite. Another balcony, of course, because that’s really what the ridiculous rent is for. The view—”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her.

  Her hands closed over his shoulders. Slid beneath the collar of his shirt. She pulled back an inch. “Don’t you want to see the view?”

  He rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “I’m looking at the best view there is right now.”

  Her eyes went dewy. “Jayden.”

  “Ariana,” he returned softly.

  She smiled a little and stepped back. Just enough to pull her Paseo Is Paradise shirt off. Then she took his hand and pulled him over to the bed.

  And showed him real paradise.

  * * *

  When Ariana woke several hours later, Austin’s city lights were shining through the bedroom windows.

  And the mattress beside her was empty.

  She had a moment’s misgiving, before she realized that the light from the living room had been turned on. Which meant that Jayden hadn’t left her.

  She still couldn’t believe he’d come to Austin.

  Not even now, when her entire body still seemed to hum from their lovemaking.

  She climbed out of bed, nearly tripping when her foot got caught in his shirt. She picked it up and pulled it over her head and went out to the living room.

  He was sitting at her card table, reading an old issue of Weird Life Magazine.

  Despite all the interviews she’d done with various members of Gerald Robinson’s family, she couldn’t imagine how Jayden felt now, knowing the truth. “Keaton Fortune Whitfield,” she said. “British. Thirty-three. The newest great thing in architecture to hit Austin.” She stopped behind Jayden and put her hands on his shoulders. They were tense. “He’s quite a charmer. Recently engaged, I hear, to a waitress named Francesca.”

  “How’d he like finding out? You know. About—”

  “Gerald?” She kneaded his shoulders and wondered if she’d ever get tired of the feel of his flesh beneath her hands. Probably not. “It threw him for a loop. You’ve all got that in common, Jayden.”

  He flipped the magazine closed and sighed.

  She pressed her lips to the top of his head. “If you want to meet any of them, I’m sure I could arrange it.”

  “And say what? ‘Hey, guys and gals. Meet your big brother Jayden’?” He looked up at her. His eyes were dark, pained. “These people—” He gestured at the stack of magazines. “They’re all doing so much with their lives. And who is this Kate lady?” He picked up another issue of the magazine. “She looks a little older than Gerald’s usual conquest.”

  “She’s not one of his conquests.” Ariana opened the magazine to the full spread on the petite business magnate. “Kate Fortune. She founded Fortune Cosmetics. Big, big company. Lots of money. Recently moved her headquarters from Minnesota to Austin and appointed Graham—one of Gerald’s sons with his wife—as the new CEO. Big believer in all things family, even the ones she didn’t know existed until recently.” She looked at Jayden. “And who says you haven’t done a lot with your life?”

  “An army grunt?”

  “Sergeant First Class Fortune,” she corrected him. “I did some research. The rank isn’t exactly a grunt. And your ranch isn’t exactly a two-cow holding pen.” She slid around him and sat on his lap, looping her arms over his shoulders. “Keaton was raised by a single mom. And Chloe Fortune Elliott was, too. You and your brothers have more in common with them than you think. You all have similar experiences.”

  “Yeah. Moms who’ve been dumped by Jerome Fortune.”

  “Actually, they all knew him as Gerald by then. Your mother is the only one who seemed to know the real Jerome.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “I think he really loved her.” She expected him to dismiss the notion. But he didn’t. “What did your mother say about their relationship?”

  “It was brief. Intense. He proposed but she didn’t immediately accept, so he booked.” He grimaced. “Then she tried to find him to tell him she was pregnant with us, but he was dead.” His long fingers spread over her back. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

  She brushed her lips over his and felt such a thrill inside that she hoped it never ended. “Just one more thing.”

  He gave a noisy sigh.

  “Okay, maybe two. But then no more talk of Gerald or Jerome. I promise.”

  He gave her a wry look. “All right. But make it snappy.” His fingers drifted beneath the shirt. “I’ve got a powerful distraction here.”

  She wriggled, not even remotely able to keep from smiling. “This is serious.” She tugged at his hand. “I can’t think when you do that.”

  “Good.” He nipped at her shoulder and returned his hand right where he wanted it. “Oh, yeah. Definitely makes two of us.”

  “Gerald is a very, very wealthy man.”

  He swore succinctly. “That’s what I think about his money. Seems to me misery follows in his wake. Which—” he picked up the article about Keaton then tossed it down again “—evidently circles the globe. The guy has gotten around. No question.”

  “Okay. But here’s the second thing.” She caught her breath when his hand reached her breast. “I’m not so sure Gerald is totally the bad guy.”

  He snorted. “Right.”

  “Seriously.” She turned to look at her work spread across the table. But of course the real guts of her research had been lost in the tornado. “Darn it, I wish I had—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I think Charlotte—she’s Gerald’s wife—knows more about things than she lets on. Well, maybe not about everyone. But she certainly knew about Paseo. Which tells me that she kne
w about your mom at least. Maybe even about you and your brothers.”

  “And you say you’re not going to write any more articles? Not a book?”

  “I’m not.” She looked him in the eye. “I’m not, Jayden. I can’t. Not anymore. I haven’t written a single decent word since I left Paseo.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered. “But go on.”

  “You’ve heard your mother’s side of things now. If you ever want to know the rest, you’re going to have to get that from Gerald.” Her thoughts were running a mile a minute through her head. “Or Charlotte, but trust me. That is not likely to happen. The only time I’ve ever seen her lose a speck of composure was when she let slip the name Paseo. You’d have better luck with Gerald. From all accounts, he’s a hard-ass, too.”

  He slid his hand over her mouth. But his eyes weren’t angry. Just vaguely amused. And maybe, maybe a little accepting. “Enough,” he said. He shoved the card table away with his foot and resettled her meaningfully on his lap. “Aside from the whole windmill thing,” he murmured as he started to unbutton the shirt, “I’ve got a real appreciation for the way you wear my shirts.”

  So did she. Her skin felt like a million butterflies were dancing on her. “Take me to bed?”

  “Every night from here on out, sweetheart. Every single night.”

  She tightened her arms around his neck and had a hard time not just purring when he lifted her right off the chair. She reached out and turned off the light.

  And he carried her to bed.

  * * *

  “You’re still sure about this?” Ariana pocketed her sunglasses as they stepped up to the massive front door of the Robinson mansion two days later. “Maybe meeting all of them this soon is too much.”

  “You’re the one who suggested it.”

  “I know, but—”

  He hit the door a few times with the heavy knocker, ending the discussion. “Sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back to Paseo. I do have a ranch to run, remember?”

  She nodded. Even though she’d been at the Robinson estate several times, she still felt a knot of nervousness inside her stomach. Thank God she’d returned her book advance. She couldn’t even imagine being able to write the biography anymore. She turned to him suddenly. “Just because I’m not going to tell Jerome’s story doesn’t mean someone else won’t try.”