Guarding His Fortune

by Stella Bagwell

  As soon they arrived at the apartment, Savannah went straight to her bedroom. After changing clothes, she gathered up the notes she’d managed to jot down during class and curled up in a chair. She remained there, doing her best to focus on Professor Barcroft’s remarks, until hunger eventually drove her to the kitchen.

  When she walked into the room, she was surprised to find Chaz standing at the gas range stirring something in a large skillet. The delicious aroma of cooking food permeated the air and caused her mouth to water.

  “Mmm. Something smells yummy.” In spite of vowing to keep her distance from him, she walked over to the range and stood next to him. “You didn’t tell me you could cook.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “What is that?” She peered closer at the frying mixture in the skillet. “It looks like fish with a bunch of other things.”

  “It’s some of the fish you purchased during your grocery shopping binge. The rest is tomatoes, onions and two kinds of peppers. Bell for flavor and jalapeño for heat.”

  He picked up a bottle of soy sauce and doused the whole thing. Her empty stomach growled.

  “Where did you learn to do this? Surely not in the army.”

  He slanted her a dry look. “Soldiers have to eat, too. But no, my KP duties were limited to washing dishes and mopping floors. The cooking is a family thing. All of us brothers are fairly handy in the kitchen.”

  Ever since Chaz had picked her up at the university, she’d been trying to convince herself that she didn’t want to talk to him. That she didn’t need or want his company. But she’d only been fooling herself. “Cooking is something that interested all of you?”

  “Hmm. I guess you could say we learned out of necessity more than interest.”

  She wanted to ask him what he meant by that remark, but decided he probably wouldn’t want to answer. After meeting his father and brother yesterday, many questions about his family had crossed her mind. Such as the whereabouts of his mother and why he never mentioned her. But that, too, was none of her business.

  No, she’d keep the questions to herself, she decided. And maybe a time would come when Chaz would want to talk to her about the parts of his life that mattered the most.

  “Uh, were you planning on sharing your meal?” she dared to ask “Or is all of that for you?”

  He turned his head toward her and she found herself looking into chocolate-brown eyes veiled with thick black lashes. Sensual bedroom eyes. She’d heard of them, but had never seen them. Until she’d met this man.

  He turned his attention back to the skillet. “I believe there’s enough here for the both of us. That is, if you trust my cooking.”

  “If the aroma coming from that skillet is anything like the taste, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble choking it down,” she said impishly, then asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You can set the table and get us something to drink. The iced tea you made yesterday would be good,” he suggested. “If there’s any left.”

  “There’s plenty of tea,” she told him. “I’ll get it and the table ready.”

  Leaving his side, she went to work gathering glasses, plates and utensils. “Would you rather eat here in the kitchen,” she asked, “or in the dining room?”

  “Wherever,” he answered as he continued to stir the fish and vegetables. “I’m sure you’d prefer the dining room.”

  “Wrong. I like it here in the kitchen. We can see out the glass doors to the patio.”

  “Those sliding glass doors are a security nightmare,” he said gruffly. “If you ever get that house you want on Bourbon Street, make sure it doesn’t have any.”

  Did he view everything with security in mind? Or did he think because she was a Fortune she was always going to be in danger? Dear God, she certainly hoped that wasn’t the case.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Chaz.”

  She took her time setting the table with plates, glasses, linen napkins and silverware, then stood back to survey her work. Everything looked nice, yet the table needed something more.

  “Flowers,” she said, more to herself than to him. “That’s the only thing missing.”

  But she wasn’t back home in the Garden District where she could walk outside to her mother’s flower beds and cut whatever she wanted. There were a few blooming shrubs in front of the apartment, but those were oleanders and she hardly wanted to put anything toxic on the dinner table.

  The rose! Her rose!

  She hurried out of the kitchen and returned moments later with a juice glass partially filled with water and the pink rose bud. After placing it in the middle of the small table, she stood back and smiled.

  “It’s perfect now.”

  “This isn’t a dinner party, Savannah.”

  The flat remark had her glancing over her shoulder to see he was looking at her, and the scowl on his face was like a storm cloud blocking out the sun.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re taking pains with the table like you’re expecting guests.”

  “We’re having dinner,” she said primly. “Not eating a hot dog at the fair.”

  The roll of his eyes was even worse than his scowl and Savannah had to fight the unladylike urge to march over and kick his shin.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve done something as improper as eating something with your hands while walking around a dusty midway. I can’t imagine it, Miss Fortune.”

  The sarcasm in his voice, especially the way he’d spoken her name, should have sent her temper skyrocketing. Instead, it hurt to think he viewed her as a spoiled diva. She wasn’t that sort of person.

  With a shake of her head, she said, “You don’t understand, Chaz. I—uh, never get to do this sort of thing at my parents’ home, so it’s fun for me. And since you’ve done all the cooking, I want to make the table look nice for you.”

  His expression stoic, he studied her for a brief moment, then turned back to the stove. “Fine,” he said curtly. “This is your apartment. Not mine.”

  She pressed her lips tightly together. Calling him a jerk wouldn’t fix anything. “That’s right,” she said. “But thanks to my father, you and I are sharing this living space.”

  “I guess you think it’s my fault that you’re a Fortune—that you need protecting.”

  She needed protection all right, Savannah thought ruefully. The kind that would keep her feelings all safely wrapped away from Chaz Mendoza.

  With a heavy sigh, she pulled a plastic pitcher from the refrigerator. “I’m sorry that living here with me is putting you under such a strain, Chaz. Really, I am. I understand that you have a life of your own. It can’t be easy to give up your friends and social life for an extended period of time.”

  He didn’t make any sort of reply. Which didn’t surprise Savannah. He only talked when the mood struck him. And even then, she never knew what to expect. One minute he was sweet as sugar, the next as bitter as green persimmon.

  Back at the table, she was pouring tea into ice-filled glasses and wondering if she should find some excuse to forgo this impromptu dinner, when he suddenly appeared beside her.

  She turned her head just enough to see his brooding face and that was all it took to make her heart leap into her throat. Her grip on the pitcher wavered and she placed it on the tabletop rather than risk spilling the tea everywhere.

  To her further dismay, he wrapped a hand around her upper arm. The sensation of his long fingers pressing into her flesh left her feeling like a meek little mouse caught in a hawk’s talons.

  “You don’t understand anything about me,” he said gruffly. “You don’t even know me.”

  She dared to meet his gaze and as she looked deep into the brown depths of his eyes, she saw shadows. The kind that harbored anger, loss and pain. Had he endured some sort of tragedy? Something in the arm
y? Something about his family?

  All at once, Savannah recognized there was a soft, vulnerable place inside of him, a space he didn’t want anyone else to see. Especially her. The realization was all it took to put a lump in her throat and a wobbly smile on her face.

  “You don’t know anything about me, either,” she murmured.

  Suddenly, the shadows in his eyes were replaced with a warm flickering light and then his gaze dropped to her lips. Raw energy crackled between them and Savannah was certain all the oxygen was being sucked from her lungs. Was he actually going to kiss her?

  Her legs began to tremble and the hold he had on her arm had turned to a band of fire circling her flesh. She felt her upper body gravitating toward his. Or was the weakness in her knees causing her to sway?

  Either way, she was certain she was going to wilt and she latched a hand onto the edge of the table and drew in a shaky breath.

  “You’re right,” he said, his voice husky. “We don’t really know each other. But I—”

  “Yes?”

  His gaze slowly lifted back to hers and she could see the beckoning light in his eyes had vanished and the tense moment between them was over. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

  “I think we’d better eat now.” He cleared his throat and added, “Before the food gets cold.”

  “Yes, I’m hungry.”

  She was hungry for him, Savannah thought. And all the things she’d missed since she’d grown into womanhood.

  But he was her bodyguard and the moment she headed back to New Orleans, his services would end. He’d go back to his life and she’d return to hers.

  She’d defied her father and made this trip to Austin anyway. Because she’d believed her stint at the university would be a big boon to her education and a favorable mark for any future employer to see. But at some point during these past few days, those things had lost their importance. Now she was more concerned with holding on to her heart.

  Chapter Seven

  After dinner, Chaz loaded the dishwasher, while Savannah made coffee and dished up servings of coconut cake she’d purchased from the bakery. He didn’t really want to eat dessert. But he’d found it impossible to tell her no. Just like it had been impossible to keep his eyes off her during dinner.

  Just how was a man supposed to ignore the lovely image she made with her hair pulled into a messy knot on the top of her head, the straps of a red tank top falling off her shoulders and her creamy skin glowing beneath the soft light hanging over the kitchen table?

  And that damned rose! Giving it to her hadn’t been a deliberate romantic gesture, he mentally argued. The whole thing had been an impulsive reaction to the pleasure she was displaying over the rose garden. Nothing more. Nothing less. He sure as hell hadn’t expected her to keep the flower. In fact, after the two of them had returned from the winery, Chaz hadn’t seen the rose again, so he’d assumed she’d tossed the flower into the trash. He’d never imagined she’d put the thing in water and carry it to her bedroom.

  What did that mean anyway? That she simply liked roses? Or had she especially liked this one because he’d given it to her?

  Hell, Chaz, what are you thinking? Savannah is a Fortune. She can buy all the roses she wants, anytime she wants. And if she doesn’t want to buy them for herself, there are plenty of men around who’d be more than happy to give her dozens of the things. One little bud from the winery garden doesn’t mean anything special to her. You don’t mean anything special to her.

  “I’m going to take my cake and coffee out to the patio,” she said. “Want to join me?”

  Her question jarred him from his tumultuous thoughts and he looked beyond her to the patio doors. It was dark now and the evening breeze would be just about perfect, Chaz thought. But sitting out under the moon and stars with Savannah wasn’t a smart thing to do. Not when it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself and his mind on something other than kissing her.

  He must have hesitated about answering longer than he thought, because she suddenly said, “If you’d rather not, that’s fine with me. I don’t think there’s any chance of someone scaling the privacy fence and snatching me away.”

  The teasing tone in her voice told Chaz she didn’t have a clue as to how much he actually worried about her safety. And maybe that was for the best. As a bodyguard, he wasn’t supposed to be this obsessed with his client.

  Hoping he looked more like a cool cat instead of a sick calf, he said, “I’ll join you.”

  With a coffee mug in one hand and a dessert plate in the other, she headed out the patio doors. Chaz followed after her and tried not to notice the sway of her hips beneath the long soft skirt she was wearing.

  “Oh, the breeze feels lovely.” She eased down in the glider and balanced the cake on her knees. “After being cooped up in the lab all day, it’s nice to be outdoors.”

  He took a seat in the chair across from her. “The heat hasn’t hit Austin yet. You’ll probably be back in New Orleans before it reaches sweltering temperatures.”

  She didn’t say anything to that and he turned his attention to eating the cake. He didn’t want to think about her leaving. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow. All he wanted to think about was sitting here in the dark. With her.

  After a few moments, she set her plate aside and looked at him. Chaz looked back and wondered how she would react if he moved across the short space between them and pulled her into his arms. Would her soft cheek nestle against his chest as it had yesterday? Or would she pull away and remind him that he was supposed to be guarding, not touching?

  “Chaz, I think there’s something I should explain about—well, about yesterday. In the winery garden.”

  What was going on here? Was she reading his mind?

  “There’s nothing to explain.”

  She smoothed a hand over her skirt and as Chaz watched her, he couldn’t recall ever knowing a woman who looked as feminine as she did or moved with such grace.

  “Yes. I believe there is. Because it seems to me that ever since we left the winery you’ve been upset with me.”

  Something twisted in the middle of his chest.

  “I’ve not been upset.”

  Which was true, Chaz thought. If he’d appeared angry, it was because he’d been fighting like hell to hold on to his senses—and keep his hands off her. But more than anything, he’d been trying to convince himself that, for a guy like him, she was as reachable as the evening stars.

  “Okay. But I want to explain anyway,” she told him. “Just so you’ll know I’m not a woman who goes around crying over a hangnail or weeps because she’s lost her favorite tube of lipstick.”

  “Before you arrived in Austin, I might have imagined you as that sort. But not now.”

  Her sigh was a wistful sound and before he could stop himself, he was sitting next to her on the glider with his hand tightly curled around hers.

  “Savannah, this isn’t necessary. I understand. You had a melancholy moment. We all have them at one time or another.”

  The look in her eyes was warm and appreciative.

  “Yes, and some of us have more of those moments than others. Thankfully, mine are getting few and far between. But yesterday one of the statues in the garden got me to thinking about someone I had loved very much. She died almost ten years ago.”

  He didn’t want to be drawn into her joys or sorrows. He didn’t want to be sucked into her life, only to have her jerk it all away. The same way Allison had taken away every dream he’d had for the future. Their future.

  And yet, Chaz couldn’t force himself to leave her side. Not with the plaintive look in her eyes tying knots in his stomach. Not with her soft fingers twining around his.

  “She?” he asked her.

  Nodding, she said, “Her name was Bethann. From the time we were five years old,
we attended the same elementary school—a private school for girls. Although we were opposite in looks and personality, we were closer than most sisters. Blonde and blue-eyed, she had a smile that dazzled. She was quite an athlete and would’ve certainly lettered in softball and basketball if—”

  She looked toward the dark shadows of the yard and swallowed, and Chaz realized he was seeing Savannah in a way he had never expected. He was seeing that having a powerful father and an impressive last name hadn’t necessarily made her world perfect.

  The awkward moment stretched until he asked, “What happened to your friend? Car accident?”

  She turned back to him and as the moonlight dappled her face, he could see her expression was stark and still, as though she were purposely trying to keep her emotions hidden from him.

  Because she believes it annoys you to see her feelings. Because she thinks you regret holding her. Consoling her.

  The thoughts circling through his head left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want Savannah to feel as though she needed to hide from him.

  Shaking her head, she said, “A quick accident would’ve been more merciful than what Bethann went through. When she began having breathing problems, she was initially diagnosed with asthma. But when the treatment for that failed to help, the doctors discovered she had a rare lung disease.”

  “Obviously, it wasn’t curable.”

  She pulled in a deep breath, then heaved it out. “No. But for a few years, it was treatable. Until the meds quit making a difference. She spent her fifteenth birthday in a hospital hooked up to tubes and machines. She died a few days afterward.”

  “And you were crushed.”

  Nodding, she said, “Bethann was so sweet, and pretty, and funny. And emotionally strong. She faced death like another adventure to be met. During that time, my parents kept reminding me that Bethann was no longer suffering. But that was little comfort to a fifteen-year-old girl who’d lost her best friend.”