“Well.” He suddenly caught her hand up in his again, only to lift it and drop a kiss on the back of it. “You walk carefully, Savannah. And have yourself a good New Year.” He tugged his loosened tie off completely and tossed it in the car before following it.
“You too,” she finally managed faintly.
But she knew he hadn’t heard.
He’d already started the engine of the expensive-looking car and was driving away.
She couldn’t help feeling like she’d blown her one and only chance with the handsome man. For her and the nonexistent Savannah.
Chapter Two
“Why didn’t you let him give you a ride home?” The next morning, Sarah-Jane’s roommate, Felicity Thomas was staring at her through bleary eyes.
Sarah-Jane filled the coffee mug and nudged it toward Felicity. She’d asked herself that a dozen times already. “Wyatt Fortune is a stranger,” she said with hard-won calmness. “I don’t take rides from strangers.”
Felicity rolled her eyes, then moaned a little, clapping a hand to her forehead. She reached blindly for the coffee mug. “He’s a Fortune,” she mumbled, as if that excused anything and everything. “Of course he’s trustworthy.”
Several hours’ worth of fitful sleep might not have particularly refreshed Sarah-Jane after the unexpected encounter, but at least by the time she rolled out of bed and pulled on her running clothes, she’d regained her usual common sense. “That’s what they always say after a serial killer is caught. He seemed so trustworthy.” Not that she really thought for a second that Wyatt Fortune wasn’t perfectly trustworthy.
She nudged the coffee mug an inch to the left until Felicity’s hand found it. Her roommate quickly buried her nose in the mug for a long moment, then leaned her head back against the kitchen chair where she sat. “Bliss,” she sighed. “Remind me again why I thought it was a good idea to go to that ‘I hate New Year’s Eve’ party?”
Sarah-Jane knew that Felicity had been just as desperate as she’d been for something to do the night before. In her friend’s case, however, it was because her latest romance had come to a screeching halt a few weeks earlier. “None of the guys there were interesting?”
“Nobody offered me a ride home, that’s for sure.” Felicity sat forward again and propped her chin on her fist. A petite, blue-eyed blonde, Felicity was as different from Sarah-Jane as a person could be. She was three years younger than Sarah-Jane’s twenty-seven, and she was her dearest friend. “It was depressing, frankly. I thought it would be a good way to ring in the New Year. Something different, you know?” She made a face and lifted her narrow shoulder. “Instead, it turned out to be just one big pity party. Then I ate too much. And drank too much. Like I said, depressing.” She drew out the word, emphatically.
“At least you didn’t go around making up names for yourself.” The two roommates had no secrets from each other. Sarah-Jane had already given Felicity the embarrassing details.
“Savannah,” Felicity mused, propping her chin on her hand again. “I should come up with a new truffle called Savannah. It’d be completely innocent-looking from the outside, but the second you bit into it...sly and sexy as all get out.”
Sarah-Jane couldn’t help but laugh. Felicity was a confectioner. It never took her long to get around to comparing the candy she made to the living things around her. “I certainly didn’t feel sly and sexy last night.” She topped off her coffee and for a moment thought longingly of the cream and sugar that she used to add to it. But she’d given up both months ago. Along with a lot of other things she’d dearly loved. In their place, she’d taken up steamed vegetables, lean meats and running. The result was a twenty-five-pounds-slimmer Sarah-Jane, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t miss that cream and sugar every single day. “I felt like an idiot. First off, wearing that dress that Maria gave me to wear—” She shook her head again.
“You looked fabulous.”
“I looked like a pig stuffed in a blanket.”
Even with her bloodshot eyes, Felicity looked suddenly stern. She pointed her finger at Sarah-Jane. “You did not. You have a figure a lot of women would kill for and that dress just happened to show it off. And get your mother out of your head right now.”
Sarah-Jane grimaced. She was fairly certain nobody was ever standing around looking at her with envy. Weight loss or not, her breasts and her butt were still too big. But she knew that Felicity’s comment about her mother had some bearing. Yvette Early was nothing if not critical about herself, as well as the farm-girl-size daughter she’d been despairing over for as long as Sarah-Jane could remember. “I sounded like her, huh?”
“Exactly like her.”
Sarah-Jane shook her head, staring out the kitchen window of their cozy two-story apartment. Outside, the sky looked exquisitely blue.
Wyatt Fortune’s eyes were that sort of blue.
“I can’t believe I lied to him like that.”
“Why did you?”
Sarah-Jane chewed the inside of her lip, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to be plain Sarah-Jane.”
“You’re not plain!”
“You grow up with a nickname, sometimes it fits.”
“Not anymore, it doesn’t,” Felicity said loyally. “But, hey, everyone wants to be someone else now and then. Me, I’d like to be a five-ten Brazilian model.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Named Marguerite.” Despite her pallor, her smile was quick and infectious.
“Marguerite and Savannah,” Sarah-Jane returned. “Women of mystery and intrigue.”
“Exactly.” Then Felicity dropped her hand to the table, following it with her head, which she just laid right down next to her coffee mug. “But good ol’ Felicity Thomas is never going to drink a margarita again.”
“I doubt that,” Sarah-Jane said dryly. But she felt some sympathy for her friend’s misery and went to the upstairs bathroom they shared to retrieve the aspirin. Back downstairs in the kitchen that owed its cheerfulness more to decorative creativity than expense, she poured out a few tablets and set them next to Felicity’s coffee. “Maybe you’d feel better if you had something to eat.”
“I’d feel better if somebody just shot me in the head.”
“What about a chocolate croissant?” Sarah-Jane suggested. Felicity could eat them until the cows came home and still be the size of a pixie.
“Oh, rats.” Felicity suddenly lifted her head again. “What time is it?” She reached over and turned Sarah-Jane’s wrist so she could see the face of the plain black and silver Timex. “I’ve got a delivery to make over at La Casa Paloma in an hour.”
“Even on New Year’s Day?”
“Even on.” Felicity made a concerted effort to look more alert. She scrubbed her hands down her cheeks. Blinked her eyes several times. The end result was a pink-cheeked Felicity who still had bloodshot eyes and pale skin. “When Wendy Fortune Mendoza calls you up to request personalized chocolates for a New Year’s Day-slash-post-wedding brunch, you don’t say no.” She dropped her head to her arms on the table, once more. “Holidays and hangovers or not,” she finished on a groan.
“Is everything ready for the delivery?”
Felicity’s answer was a flop of her hand. Sarah-Jane realized that her friend was giving a thumbs-up—just a sideways one, flat against the tabletop.
“Want me to drive you?”
Felicity lifted her head. Squinted at her. “You are the best friend. You know that?”
Sarah-Jane grinned wryly. “Works both ways. Go drag yourself into the shower. If the chocolates have to be there in an hour, we’ve only got a few minutes to spare. The order’s at the shop, right?” Felicity’s shop, True Confections, shared space with a coffee shop. It wasn’t far, but it would still take up time getting there.
“Right.” Felicity bonelessly slid out of her chair and headed out of the kitchen, correcting course when she bumped her shoulder against the doorjamb along her way.
Sarah-Jane quickly
turned off the coffeemaker and went to her own room to exchange the robe she’d thrown on after her shower for a pair of clean jeans and the royal blue pullover sweater that Felicity had given her for Christmas. She’d wear it at least once so as not to hurt Felicity’s feelings, even though Sarah-Jane considered the cashmere knit too revealing with its surplice neckline. She heard the shower go on and quickly wove her hair into a braid and went back downstairs.
Considering everything, Felicity made good time and before long, they’d made it to the shop where Sarah-Jane loaded up the backseat of her small hybrid with the lovely aqua-colored boxes containing Felicity’s confections. Red Rock was never particularly troubled with hordes of traffic—except a few times a year, like during the Spring Fling that drew people from far and wide—but there were even fewer cars on the road thanks to the holiday, so it wasn’t long before Sarah-Jane pulled up outside the exclusive hotel. Unfortunately, despite their rush and the brevity of the trip, Sarah-Jane’s roommate had sunk ever more deeply down in her seat. It was as if she’d expended all the energy she had unlocking the shop. Now, she looked even greener than she had at home.
“Maybe I should take in the boxes,” Sarah-Jane suggested.
Felicity started to shake her head, only to close her eyes and groan. “Never. Never drinking again.”
Sarah-Jane unclipped her seat belt. “Sit tight. Where do the boxes need to go?”
“The banquet kitchen.”
“Can I go through the lobby?”
“Technically, we should go around to the service entrance, but this way is three times as fast, and I’d rather have the chocolates there on time.” She eyed Sarah-Jane through one slitted eye. “And you don’t look like a delivery person anyway.”
Sarah-Jane figured she didn’t look like the kind of person who would be a likely guest at the hotel, either, but there wasn’t any time to worry about it. They had only minutes to spare if Felicity’s chocolates were going to make it to the dessert table on time.
After Felicity gave her the directions to the banquet kitchen, she stacked the boxes carefully in her arms and carried them into the hotel, peering over the top of them. The interior of the lobby was decorated head-to-toe in holiday sparkle and she circled around the staggeringly tall fir tree with golden glass icicles dripping from every branch that held court in the center of the space. Felicity had told her to take the hallway off the left of the elevators and she had just spotted those, when the doors slid open.
And Wyatt Fortune stepped out.
Sarah-Jane’s breath stuck in her throat and her grip on her precious cargo started to slip.
It didn’t seem possible, but he was even more handsome than she’d realized. Maybe it was the weathered blue sweater that stretched across shoulders that looked even wider than they had in the dark suit he’d worn the night before. Or maybe it was the glint of sunlight on his downturned head that shot sparks of gold into his dark blond hair, rivaling the tree’s icicles.
He was...beautiful. And just that one sight of him made everything inside her squeeze.
He had a cell phone in his hand that he was studying and before he could see her, she whirled on the heels of her white tennis shoes and clutched the boxes tighter to her chest. The reception desk was to her right and she made a beeline for the pretty, young clerk standing at the far end.
“Excuse me,” Sarah-Jane greeted her breathlessly. “Is it possible for someone from the banquet kitchen to come out and get these?” She lifted the boxes a few inches, even though there was no need. Even with the high reception desk between them, the girl could clearly see Sarah-Jane’s load, but she frowned with doubt and started to shake her head. “These are special chocolates for the Fortune brunch,” Sarah-Jane added quickly.
Magical words. The girl’s expression cleared and she reached out her hands for the boxes. “I’ll take them back myself.”
Sarah-Jane gratefully passed over her load. “Thank you so much.”
“Not a problem,” the girl assured. She rounded the end of the desk and Sarah-Jane pretended she had tunnel vision, heading straight for the hotel entrance.
Do not look around that enormous Christmas tree, do not seek out Wyatt Fortune, do not pass go.
Her tennis shoes squeaked a little as she quickly crossed the tile floor.
“Savannah!”
Was there another Savannah? A real one?
But she knew there wasn’t, because it was Wyatt’s voice that had called out the name. She recognized it just as surely as she knew her own face. The automatic glass doors slid open. She could see her car just across the parking lot...
“Savannah. Wait!”
Her heart was pounding inside her chest as if she’d just run her first half marathon. She slowly turned. Wyatt was striding past the Christmas tree. Past the oversize stack of shining red-and-green-wrapped boxes circling the base of it.
She swallowed hard and pressed her moist palms down the sides of her jeans.
He stopped a few feet shy of her. He had a faint smile hovering around his lips. “Looks like you must have made it safely home from Red.”
Her mouth was dry. “And you didn’t wrap your car around any telephone poles.”
“What are you doing here?”
She decided his eyes were more brilliantly blue than the sky. And with his gaze focused like a laser on her face, she was hard-pressed not to forget everything, including the art of speech. He must not have seen her give the boxes to the reception clerk. “I was dropping something off for a friend.”
“This is a New Year’s sign, you know.”
“What is?”
“Running into each other.” He looked over her shoulder and suddenly wrapped his long fingers around her elbow.
She practically jumped right out of her skin and felt her cheeks go hot when she realized he was only directing her out of the entryway to allow some people to enter.
“I didn’t realize you were staying here.” She felt foolish as she said the words. Why would she have known?
He hadn’t let go of her elbow and the warmth of his fingers blazed through her sweater. “Whole family is. My brothers and I have a couple of suites.”
She’d never stayed in a hotel the likes of La Casa Paloma. Never stayed in a hotel suite, period. But the mention of his brothers had her thinking about poor Felicity, still waiting in the car. “How are they feeling this morning?”
His gaze roved over her face. “Hungover, to say the least.” His fingers tightened around her elbow. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
Disbelief rolled over her. “Excuse me?”
“Dinner,” he repeated. His lips tilted a little more. “You’ve heard of it, right?”
“But...you don’t even know me.”
He smiled outright. Faint lines crinkled alongside his eyes. “All the more reason to have dinner with me, sweet Savannah. That’s how we’ll start getting to know one another.”
Savannah.
For pity’s sake. In the span of minutes, she’d managed to actually forget.
“At least give me a chance to compete against the boyfriend who’s foolish enough to leave you on your own.”
She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “He’s...out of the picture,” she managed.
“Good for you. A guy like that deserves to be dumped.”
“How do you know he didn’t dump me?” She felt a bubble of hysteria catch in her chest. It was crazy. She was talking about a boyfriend that didn’t even exist. And even with a nonexistent boyfriend, she’d more likely be the dumpee than the dumper. Or at the very least, the butt end of a joke.
“If he did then he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought last night.” His thumb roved over the inside of her arm. Through the cashmere, the small motion was exceedingly distracting. “But if you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m game.”
Every word out of his mouth was disarming. “I’m not crying,” she pointed out faintly.
“Even better. So, dinn
er?”
Better? There was no boyfriend! There was no Savannah! “I...um, I—” just say no “—I’d love to.”
His fingers squeezed her elbow. His eyes held a smile. “Seven?”
Say no, say no, say no! “Perfect.”
She didn’t know how but they were suddenly standing nearly toe-to-toe. Toe-to-boot, actually. He was wearing leather cowboy boots that looked well-worn, along with the jeans and sweater. “How about brunch now, too?”
She shook her head, still trying to make sense of things. “Sorry?”
“I’m already late for a brunch I’m supposed to be at. More wedding stuff. Pretty much everyone who was at the shindig last night is there again today. Just no bride and groom. They have enough sense to go off somewhere they can be alone.” His voice dropped a notch. “Come with me. Make it bearable.”
She wondered if her brain had decided to take a New Year’s Day holiday. Of course, he’d be attending the Fortune brunch. And she couldn’t very well show her face there. Maria Mendoza was likely to be there. Then there was also Wendy Fortune, and a whole bunch of other women who would recognize Sarah-Jane from The Stocking Stitch. “I really can’t. My roommate is waiting for me, actually. I need to get going.” In fact, the need to escape this madness was almost overwhelming. She started edging for the door again and his hand dropped away.
“All right. But give me your number first. I’ll call later for directions to your place.”
“I’ll just meet you back here,” she said quickly. “It’s easier. Seven. Right?”
His expression turned curious and she froze, fresh guilt swamping her. But after a moment, all he did was nod. “See you here at seven,” he said agreeably.
Afraid of what other trouble her tongue would get her into, she practically ran out of the hotel. She didn’t look back until she reached the car. And when she did, there was no sight of Wyatt through the glass doors.
She exhaled and dropped her forehead onto the edge of the car door.
“Everything go okay?” Despite the January chill in the air, Felicity had rolled the windows down in the car and tilted back the passenger seat until she was practically laying down.
Her New Year's Fortune Page 3
