Fortune's Homecoming

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  None of which she could tell Max without him flying off the handle.

  “You need to forget that Bethany,” Peggy said tartly. “She was too old for you, anyway. Focus on meeting a nice girl to marry. Someone who’ll give you lots of babies.”

  “Aunt Peg!” Max’s horror was comical. “I don’t have t’worry about all that for years yet.”

  “By the time Hal and I were your age, we already had two children.” Peggy pointed her finger in Max’s face. “And your mama had one on the way when she was twenty-four.” Her pointing finger took aim at Billie. “I don’t know why the two of you are so resistant to settling down.”

  “And I don’t know why you and my ma are so insistent that we do.” Max grinned and slid his arm around Peggy’s slender waist. “Don’t you have too many grandchildren already?”

  Peggy’s expression softened slightly. She’d always had more of a tender spot for her sister’s youngest than she’d had for her own. “You obviously don’t know that there can never be too many grandchildren.”

  Billie turned on the water to rinse the plates. “As long as you don’t expect them anytime soon from me,” she muttered under the sound of the water.

  “I heard that, Belinda Marie. One of these days you’ll fall in love, and you’re going to eat those words. I know all about this life plan you think you have laid out for yourself, and I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t work that way.” Peggy pulled off her apron and tossed it on the cluttered kitchen counter. “Right now, you can just think about that while you take care of all this mess on your own, after all.”

  Max started to follow Peggy out of the kitchen.

  Billie threw the wet dishcloth at her cousin’s back. “Hey! Where are you going?”

  He grinned, not slowing a bit. “You heard your mama. You can just think about that, Belinda Marie.”

  She looked back at the dozens of dishes yet to be washed and huffed out a sigh. “Only thing I’m going to think about is my very nice dishwasher at home,” she muttered.

  Her dishwasher.

  And Grayson Fortune.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Billie stood next to Grayson, looking at an enormous barn. “So, what do you think?”

  It was the third time now that they’d been out to view properties, and after failing to catch his interest the last time, when they’d met to go back to the Orchess listing plus three others, she’d decided it was time to take a different tack.

  Namely, not showing him the actual house until after he’d seen everything else the listing had to offer.

  Despite his intention to purchase a new home, she could tell he wasn’t quite ready to see himself living in any of them. But when it came to barns and good grazing land and accessibility and water? Those things he did care about.

  She’d also realized that he didn’t give two figs about her carefully prepared folios, which were generally so important to her other clients. She wasn’t used to it, but it did save her a fair amount of preparation time. Which was a good thing, given his unpredictable schedule.

  “When was the barn built?”

  She scanned the information sheet she had printed out for herself. She didn’t have a lot of confidence that he’d like the Harmon ranch, because it was so much more expensive than anything he’d expressed an interest in seeing before. It was also considerably farther away from the city and came with nearly a hundred acres. Yes, he’d said he wanted acreage, but this was on another scale entirely. But DeForest Allen had brought the new listing to her attention after the status meeting that morning. And so here they were. “The barn was built three years ago.”

  “It’s not bad.” He tucked his sunglasses in the collar of his navy blue T-shirt and thumbed back his black cowboy hat as he surveyed the acreage all around them. “It’s on well water, you said?”

  “Yes.” Fortunately, she’d also gotten over the worst of her tendency to chatter nervously when she was around him, and she was able to leave it at that. She’d realized that when Grayson had questions, he asked them. And now, she was determined to remain quiet, leaving him to make his own observations.

  On the unfortunate front, she was realizing that left her with plenty of time to just observe him.

  And the more she observed, the more disturbed she felt. Because she genuinely liked him.

  Liked him in a way that set all her nerves on edge.

  Frankly, she blamed her mother.

  Ever since Selena’s party, when Peggy had harped on falling in love, Billie hadn’t been able to get Grayson out of her head. Which would have been fine if all she’d been thinking about was finding him a property that he couldn’t resist.

  “Billie?”

  She realized she’d completely missed whatever it was he’d said. She rustled the papers she was holding as if to blame her inattention on them. “Sorry?”

  “The land does come with the house, doesn’t it?” He’d taken off his cowboy hat and used it to gesture at the multiwinged stone structure.

  She pretended her cheeks weren’t hot. “Of course. The, uh, the house was built twenty years ago, but it was evidently renovated about the same time they built the barn.” She quickly started toward the dwelling and eventually he fell in step with her. In the silence of the afternoon, their footsteps seemed loud as they crossed the brick-paved courtyard between the oversize barn and the mansion-sized house.

  He resettled his hat on his head. “You seem distracted today.”

  “Do I?” She opened the lockbox. But the house key that was supposed to be inside wasn’t there.

  She frowned and pulled off her sunglasses, glancing around her. She wasn’t so distracted that she would have accidentally tipped out the key without noticing, was she?

  Grayson stopped next to her and his arm lightly grazed hers. “Something wrong?”

  “Key’s missing.” She was already pulling out her cell phone. “I need to report it.” Each time agents entered their unique code on the digital lockbox, the information was recorded. So it would be easy enough to determine who’d been there last. Plus, Billie wanted to make sure she wasn’t blamed for the lapse.

  Grayson didn’t look particularly perturbed. “While you do that, I’m going to walk around and look in the windows.”

  It was apparent that they weren’t going to be able to get inside anytime soon, so if he didn’t like what he saw through the windows, they wouldn’t need to waste time trying to come back.

  She left a message with the listing agent about the key situation, closed up the lockbox again and went to find Grayson.

  He was sitting on the built-up stone side of the glittering blue pool located at the rear of the house. His long legs were extended, boots crossed at the ankles.

  “I left a message about the key.” She slid her sunglasses back on. “We might as well head on to the next listing.”

  He patted the wide ledge beside him. “Sit.”

  She hesitated for half a second before complying. The stone was hot through the fabric of her skirt. But no hotter than the feel of him, even though she’d left a healthy space between them.

  She shuffled her papers on her lap. “It’s going to take us at least an hour to drive to the next listing. The asking price is definitely too high, but I’ve heard the owner is getting anxious, so I believe there will be some real negotiating room if it turns out to be the right property for you.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her shoulders felt stiff. “Nothing’s wrong. Except for a missing key throwing a crimp in my plans.”

  He uncrossed his ankles and cupped his hand around the edge of the stone tile separating them. “Look, I know I’m not the easiest of clients.”

  She pushed to her feet, smoothing down her skirt self-consciously. “Don’t say that. You’ve been an ideal client.” Aside from the first day when he’d been hungover, his limited availability and his propensity to turn up his handsome nose at every sales listing she suggested, he was actually one of the eas
ier clients she’d had. It wasn’t his fault that she’d been having dreams about him. Daydreams. Night dreams. Evidently, her overactive imagination didn’t discriminate when it came to hours of the day.

  “Even though I haven’t found anything that says home the second we walk through the door?”

  She squelched a sigh. “Some would say that’s my failure, not yours.” Some had said it. Namely, her boss at the meeting that morning. Fortunately, DeForest Allen wasn’t a mind reader or he’d have also delivered a lecture on the importance of recognizing the fine line between making accommodations for an important client and being too accommodating.

  “Grayson, we’ll find the right fit for you. It’s not as though you’re looking to purchase a three-bedroom tract home. It just takes time.”

  “Time that I haven’t given you much of. At least not since our first date.”

  There was no point in shivering over the word, when she knew good and well that he didn’t mean “date” date. He just meant their first day of home touring. “I knew from the beginning that you have a tight schedule. Frankly, I was surprised you were even available today.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She spread her hands and the papers clutched in her right hand fluttered in the faint breeze. “Reno starts tomorrow. I know you’re competing.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “Your mother told me,” she added, lest he speculate that she’d been following his schedule out of more personal interest. All right. So she had been. But just because she knew he’d won at the Coleman rodeo—much to Max’s consternation—then placed in Montana last weekend, and she’d seen his name on the roster for Reno, didn’t mean that she needed to divulge the truth. “It’s a couple days drive from here.” Long days. Last time she’d talked to Max, he’d been on the road midway there. “I guess you must be flying.”

  “My mother wanted a quick visit home to Paseo before Reno, so my hazer, Lou, and another friend are driving everything out to Nevada for us. Her flight to Reno was this morning. Mine is tonight.”

  Considering his expression, he didn’t look too happy about it. “Didn’t you want to go to Paseo, too?”

  “I had business to take care of here.”

  “Grayson Gear business?”

  “Billie Pemberton business.”

  Her mouth went more than a little dry. She reminded herself that what he really meant was real estate business. Which, if he’d rather have been visiting home, might explain his discontented expression. She nudged up her sunglasses again. “Well, while I do have you, we should probably make our way to the next place instead of wasting time sitting here in the hot sun.”

  “It is hot. And humid.” He looked over his shoulder at the glittering swimming pool. “Too bad you don’t swim. We could sneak in a dip.” He gave her a quick look. “I could teach you how to swim.”

  He could teach you lots of things.

  She kicked the sneaky voice inside her head right to the curb. “In someone else’s pool?”

  “Without their knowledge even.” His expression had lightened and his lips twitched. “Lends a certain air of excitement, don’t you think?”

  “Lends a certain air of getting my rear end fired,” she corrected. Getting just that right amount of dryness in her voice should have earned her an acting award.

  “Only if your uptight boss found out.”

  “I should never have told you about that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s not relevant.”

  Even with her sunglasses, his gaze trapped hers. “It’s not?”

  She felt a bead of perspiration slide down her spine. She swallowed and moistened her lips. “In any case, he’s not going to find out for the simple reason that we’re not getting in that pool. We don’t even have swimming suits.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them.

  Because, naturally, Grayson’s perfectly shaped lips spread slowly into a sexy-as-hell grin. “Well, hell, darlin’, as far as I’m concerned, that ain’t really a problem.”

  At this rate, she wasn’t getting any closer to him signing a purchase contract. Instead, she was getting a whole lot closer to losing her willpower where he was concerned. Which was the height of stupidity. He flirted because it was his nature to flirt with any female.

  She shook her papers at him. “We have places to go, Grayson.”

  “Fine.” But he cupped his fingers in the pool and flipped water toward her.

  She jumped back, but not quickly enough to evade the splash. She stared down at her thin silk blouse, which had started the day as a pristine white, but was now clinging almost transparently to her lace bra. She plucked the wet fabric away from her chest. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  He laughed. “Considering the way you drive, I can’t believe you moved so slowly.”

  She was torn between embarrassment and the desire to laugh, herself. Even if the pool water ruined her blouse, the water did feel refreshing. And Grayson’s laugh was low and sexy as all get-out. The sound of it made every nerve inside her tingle.

  She crossed her arms and channeled her mother’s best humorless glare, though it was difficult. “It’s time to go, Grayson.”

  He made a face, but finally pushed off the ledge. “Did I tell you that the first crush I ever had on a woman was my third grade teacher, Miss Frost? She always used to cross her arms and give me that sort of look, too.”

  “If you’re saying that to unnerve me, it won’t work.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  “Just having a conversation, darlin’.” He passed by her. “Your papers are wet, by the way.”

  “Gee. I wonder why.” She waited until his back was turned, then dropped the wet pages and scooped both her hands into the pool water and flung it at him.

  She was nowhere near as effective at it as he had been, but she did manage to douse the back of his shirt pretty well.

  Enough for him to turn on a dime, giving her a surprised look.

  She laughed.

  He took a step toward the pool’s edge. “Now you’ve done it.”

  She had the sense to be a bit alarmed and started to step away.

  He dunked his arm in the pool and sloshed a wave of water toward her. It sluiced over the wide rock ledge, splashing her in the face and flooding over the toes of her shoes.

  “That’s three pairs of suede shoes I’ve ruined now because of you,” she said, blinking against the water droplets. The second pair had fallen victim to the cow pie she’d accidentally stepped into while Grayson decided the Orchess land wasn’t right for him, either.

  “You don’t swim,” he reminded her as she leaned over the pool ledge.

  “Doesn’t mean I’m afraid of water.” She sliced her arm across the surface, sending a jet of spray his way.

  He took the water full frontal. He slowly pulled off his hat, and his smile flashed almost as bright as the beating sun. “Oh now, darlin’, all bets are off.”

  She braced herself as he dipped his hat toward the pool. “Grayson...”

  And then his hat filled with water and all bets were off, indeed.

  Chapter Six

  “Here.” Billie handed Grayson a bath towel. “You’re still dripping.”

  It was an exaggeration, but Grayson let it pass because he was preoccupied looking around Billie’s starkly furnished apartment. She’d suggested dropping him off at his hotel, until he’d told her he’d already checked out that morning.

  She hadn’t been quite able to hide her consternation, then, as she’d brought him back to her place.

  Far as he was concerned, they might as well have taken an illicit dip in that swimming pool. They’d ended up as wet as if they’d jumped in fully clothed. But they’d left a good portion of that moisture behind on Billie’s car seats during the long drive back to Austin.

  He flipped the towel around his neck and absently unbuttoned his clinging shirt as he approached the oversize windows that afforded Billie a decent view of the rive
r.

  Considering the location of the apartment building, it didn’t take a genius to guess she was paying a hefty price tag for that particular view. It was almost as good as the view from his usual penthouse hotel suite. She even had a balcony furnished with a small, cushioned couch, a chair and a low, tiled table. Sitting on the table was a shallow wicker basket holding a couple glossy magazines.

  The inside of the apartment wasn’t quite so well equipped. Not unless she had a couch hiding in the brown cardboard packing boxes that were stacked against one wall. Aside from them, she had a dining room table with four chairs, a television that was sitting on the floor, and one leather chair.

  He glanced at her. She was standing in the kitchen, but had kicked off her shoes in the tiled foyer.

  It dawned on him then that he hadn’t seen her without shoes until now. “You’re short.”

  She paused in the act of twisting her wet hair up in a white towel, turban-like. “You’re so good for my ego,” she muttered and then straightened.

  He wondered what her ego would feel like if he admitted that every time he looked at her, he wanted her. Too young for him or not, he wanted her. And it was a problem that kept getting worse. His stunt with the pool definitely wasn’t helping things. “You’re always wearing high heels,” he said casually.

  She returned to the foyer to pick up her discarded shoes. “Considering I seem to ruin a pair every time I take you out for a home tour, I’d do better to switch to rubber muck boots.” She pointed the shoes at him. They’d been a brilliant peacock blue until the chlorinated pool water had had its way with them. Now they were splotched blue and white. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She set the shoes on the kitchen counter next to his wet hat before heading across the dark wood floor to disappear behind a door at the end of the short hall.

  Where, no doubt, she would change out of her wet clothes.

  He looked back at the window and lightly thumped his forehead against the glass. “Dumb move, Gray.”

  Then he realized the windows were actually sliding doors, and after a second of hunting, he released the lock and slid one of the panels open, then stepped out. The afternoon sun was hotter than ever, but it didn’t quite reach all the way across Billie’s balcony. He closed the patio door behind him and shrugged out of his shirt and spread it across the back of the side chair. Then he sat on the couch and studied his Castletons. They’d fared better than Billie’s shoes, but then they were working boots meant to withstand some punishment.