Savannah. It was just a name, she reasoned, much as Felicity had reasoned when she’d been frantically trying to prevent Sarah-Jane from calling Wyatt at his hotel to cancel.
The restroom door swung open, startling her, and two laughing women entered. “Who cares if it’s just one night,” the first woman was saying. Her gaze skipped over Sarah-Jane as if she were invisible. “It’s a brand new year and I’m starting it off by having some fun.” She pushed through one of the full-length doors to the first stall and her friend disappeared behind another.
Sarah-Jane’s brown eyes stared back at her in the mirror. For her entire life, most people treated her as if she were invisible.
Wyatt didn’t look at Savannah as if she were invisible.
She snapped open her purse and ran a fresh layer of pale gloss over her lips. Then she washed her hands. And pulling her shoulders back, she went back out to join Wyatt.
Sarah-Jane would never have the chance to live the fantasy.
But tonight, Savannah was going to live it for her.
* * *
Wyatt breathed a little easier when he spotted Savannah returning. He half rose until she was seated again and then lifted the wine bottle questioningly.
“Please.” She nudged her empty wineglass closer to him and he poured a measure before setting the bottle aside.
“I hope you like Italian.”
“I like food, period.” Her lips twisted as she looked out the windows and took a sip of the wine. “Mmm.” She gave him a quick look as if surprised. “It’s good.”
He didn’t drink much, but he could still pick out and enjoy a decent wine. “Glad you like it.”
She ducked her nose in the goblet, quickly looking back out the windows. He dragged his eyes away from the long line of her throat. Her blouse was so loose, it was starting to slide toward her shoulder.
“It looks like every tree has lights,” she mused.
He was a lot more interested in looking at her than at the trees. “Savannah?”
Again, that enticingly quick glimpse of chocolate brown before her lashes swept down again. “Mmm?”
“Do I make you nervous?”
He saw her long fingers tighten around the stem of her wineglass. Her fingernails were short, neat and polished in the faintest of pink. He found them strangely vulnerable-looking. And enticingly sexy. The last woman he’d briefly dated had sported talons painted deep purple. She’d been mildly entertaining, and never nervous. But if he had to think of her name just then, he’d have been hard-pressed to do so.
On the other hand, there was something about Savannah that was entirely unforgettable.
“Maybe a little nervous,” she finally admitted when he just waited, silently. She made a face. “You must think I’m silly.”
“I don’t think you’re silly,” he assured. “I do think I’m glad you’re with me instead of the other guys here who are wishing you were with them, instead.”
She gave a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “Did your mother send you to charm school or something?”
He smiled. His mother had left for Atlanta that afternoon as planned; but he seriously doubted she was charmed by anything he or his brothers had said before she’d departed. “No doubt she’s wanted to try, more than once.” He saw the waiter approaching from the corner of his eye and gave him a quick look. The waiter immediately veered off, heading for another table.
Smart waiter. Good tip.
Wyatt topped off her wineglass before setting the bottle aside once more. He wasn’t trying to get her drunk. He just wanted her to get over her nervousness. He lifted his own wineglass, watching the way the liquid clung to it when he swirled it a few times before lifting the glass to his lips.
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t worry about trying to keep up with my brothers,” he corrected. He set the glass on the table. His fingertips were barely an inch away from hers. He saw the way her gaze flicked down to the table and wondered if she was noticing that as well. “Do you have any siblings?”
“I wish.” Seeming to regret her fervent reply, she shifted in her chair. Even in the subdued lighting, he could see the flush on her cheeks. “But no. No brothers or sisters. And you have—” She lifted her eyebrows. “Four brothers, I’m guessing?”
“Three brothers. The dark-haired guy next to me last night was my cousin, Michael. I’ve also got a little sister. Victoria. She lives in Red Rock, too.”
Savannah was nodding as if she’d just realized. “That’s right. She’s married to Garrett Stone.”
“I keep forgetting what a small town Red Rock is. You know them?”
She quickly shook her head. “Not really. I just had a stu— A friend who had to find a home for her dog once, and I remember her saying that Garrett had taken the pet in for her.”
“That sounds like Garrett all right.” He wondered what she’d been about to say. Wondered why she hadn’t. “Still seems strange to think of Vic as a married lady. She’s the baby of us all.”
“And you?” She shifted in her seat, sitting closer to the table. He liked to think, closer to him. “Where do you fall in the line?”
“Smack in the middle.”
“What’s that like?”
“Frustrating when I was a kid.” He grinned wryly. “I was either old enough to know better, or too young to do it.” At least that got her to smile. “Sawyer’s younger than me, Asher and Shane are older,” he added.
“I don’t know what it’s like being a middle child, but it must have been great growing up in a large family like that. You and your brothers—and your cousin—looked pretty close last night at Red.”
“Close in some ways, but we don’t feel like we have to live in each other’s pockets, either.”
“Yet it sounded like you’ve all made the decision to move to Red Rock?”
“For not eavesdropping, you picked up a lot.”
She colored again, so prettily that he couldn’t help but smile. Nor could he help sliding his fingers through hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m teasing.”
Her eyes looked startled, but she didn’t pull away. “I suppose with that many brothers plus a sister, you grew up with a lot of teasing.”
His smile grew. He slowly rubbed his thumb over the base of her wrist, feeling the smooth, tender skin as well as the pulse fluttering there. “Believe me, Savannah. I’m not feeling at all brotherly to you.”
Her gaze met his for an instant, danced away shyly, then danced back again. “I’m glad to hear it.”
He realized he was staring at the soft curve of her lips. He seriously wanted to taste them. But they were in the middle of a busy restaurant. And he damn sure didn’t want to scare her off just when she was starting to lose that tight aura of tension she wore wrapped around herself like a winter coat.
“Soooo.” He reluctantly slid his hand free and picked up one of the thickly padded menus the waiter had left while Savannah had been in the restroom. “What are you hungry for?” He handed her the menu.
In the flickering candlelight, her dark eyes seemed to grow even darker. She took the menu from him, but left it unopened. “Everything looks good to me.”
“You’re not looking at the menu.”
Her cheeks were pinker than ever. But her voice sounded throaty. “I know.”
He choked back half a laugh and shifted in his chair. Damned if he wasn’t more turned on by her right then than if she’d been stark naked and tucked beneath him. He grabbed the menu and flipped it open, staring blindly at the selections, very well aware that this time, she was the one silently observing him. He decided it was strangely humbling.
Fortunately, as if he could tell that Wyatt didn’t want to keep him at bay any longer, the waiter returned, bearing a plate of bruschetta that he set in the middle of the table. Savannah didn’t dally over ordering like so many women seemed to, choosing seared sea bass over eggplant. When the waiter turned inquiringly to Wyatt, he handed bac
k the menu. “Pepperoni pizza.”
Savannah laughed softly. “We could have had that easily in Red Rock. I think I’ve over-ordered.”
Because he couldn’t resist, he took her hand again, sliding his fingers through hers. “What can I say? I like the simple pleasures in life. And, besides, Wendy recommended the pizza. Says it’s the best pie this side of Chicago.” He leaned toward her. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll share.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and she clapped her free hand over her mouth.
He smiled. “Don’t do that. I like hearing you laugh.”
She lowered her hand but only to reach for the wine bottle, which she tipped over her emptied glass. “My mother would sorely disagree,” she told him lightly. “She says I laugh like a horse.”
What kind of mother told her daughter that?
His thoughts went black.
Maybe the same kind of father who raised his sons to be part of something lasting, only to snatch it away with no warning. “Better a hearty laugh than a miserly one,” he told her.
Savannah peered at him through narrowed eyes, but she was still smiling. “Now that sounds like charm school again to me.”
“Nothing charming about the truth.” Until recently, Wyatt would have said he’d learned everything there was about truth from his father.
“Definitely nothing charming about the truth,” Savannah agreed, “when the truth isn’t pleasant.”
He shook his head, drawn back out of the darkness by the wry curve of her supple lips. “That’s not what I meant at all.” He dropped a kiss on her knuckles and felt her go still. But after a half a moment, she relaxed again and reached for her wine.
By the time the waiter returned with their meals, Savannah was laughing unselfconsciously enough not to try to hold it back or cover it up with her hand. And even though Wyatt tried to offer her a piece of the pizza—which was just as good as Wendy had promised—she waved it off. “I’ll stick with the fish,” she said firmly. “If I start eating that stuff again, I’ll never want to stop.”
“I see the way you’re eyeing it.” He waggled a piece above the flickering candle. “I recognize hunger when I see it.”
She just gave him a look from beneath her lashes. “Who says I’m looking at the pizza?”
He gave an abrupt laugh and dropped the pizza back on his plate. “You’re dangerous with a little wine in you.”
She smiled slightly, looking like the cat who’d gotten the cream. He had a strong hunch that it was not a feeling she’d had very often and he couldn’t help wondering about her even more. And thinking that he wouldn’t mind being the reason she had that expression on her face more often.
When they’d finished their wine and their food, Wyatt asked if she wanted to hurry back to Red Rock or explore the River Walk. She didn’t hesitate. “Explore.”
So he took her warm hand in his and they set out on foot. They stopped and listened to a jazz band playing in a crowded little club; they walked over an arched bridge where Savannah stopped to hang her arms over the stone side and stare down at the lights reflected in the water; and when she grew chilled in the steady breeze, he pulled her into a boutique that was open for business despite the holiday, and bought her an ivory-colored wrap.
“Like this,” the shopkeeper instructed in her slightly accented English, and dropped the wrap over Savannah’s auburn hair, tossing the long ends around her shoulders with casual elegance.
For a second, Wyatt imagined Savannah in ivory with a different sort of veil drifting from her lustrous hair.
He yanked out his wallet and paid for the thing, banishing the absurd thought from his head.
Blissfully, Sarah-Jane wandered around the shop for a few more minutes before Wyatt took her hand again, and they set off once more. After the shop, they followed the pathways, still with no clear destination in mind. He talked her into sharing chocolate-covered strawberries at an open-air café, only because she couldn’t seem to resist anything he suggested. They wandered into and out of clubs, listened to comedians and even wove their way onto crowded dance floors though she knew she couldn’t dance a lick.
Every time she started to feel her insecurities come to the fore, she simply asked herself what Savannah would do.
It was clearly Savannah whom Wyatt was interested in, and Sarah-Jane felt herself more and more slipping into the part. She didn’t jump out of her skin when he slid his arm around her shoulder and held her close as they crossed over bridges, from one side to the other. And she flirted.
Oh, how she flirted.
And as she drank Irish coffee in a pub, cheering him on in an impromptu game of darts, then another glass of wine in a dark little shop where a man in one corner was rolling cigars, it just got easier and easier.
And when they crossed another bridge, and he tugged her into his arms when they were on the top of it, swirling her around in a slow dance, she tossed her head back and stared up at the sky, not entirely certain where the lights from the trees ended and the stars began.
“This is the mos’ perfect night I’ve ever had,” she told him, vaguely aware of the way her words slurred...just a little...and not caring one whit. “Cinderella’s got nothin’ on this.”
He just smiled indulgently and tucked his arm around her, holding her close against his side. His breath was warm against her ear. “Fortunately, your carriage didn’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, either.”
She shivered and knew it was owed strictly to him. “An even more perfect fantasy,” she sighed happily. She looked up at him, blinking a little until her vision seemed less wobbly. “Thank you for not standin’ me up.”
He laughed softly. “Honey, no man in his right mind would stand you up. And I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never for not being right-minded.”
“Everything about you is right.” She dropped her head on his shoulder and heard him laugh all over again.
“Think you can make it back to the carriage, Cindy?”
“Mmm-hmm. ’S long ’s you keep your arm around me.” She turned her head a little, nuzzling into the space between his shoulder and his neck that seemed to have been made just for her. “You smell so good,” she murmured. Like coffee, she thought hazily. Coffee and chocolate strawberries and wishful dreams.
“And you’d tempt a saint,” he returned under his breath. “You ready to head back?”
She nodded and he shifted directions yet again. Her head was swimming, but it never once occurred to her to worry about him finding their way back to his car. And almost before she knew it, he was leaning over her as she sank down in the luxurious leather seat once more, clipping the safety belt across her before closing the passenger door and going around to the driver’s side. The next thing she knew, they were flying along the highway, nothing but his headlights cutting through the dark night. San Antonio was long behind them. Red Rock yet to be reached.
She eyed him in the dim light cast by the dashboard. “This is the best time I’ve ever had.” She hadn’t even realized the thought swirling inside her head had made it past her lips until she heard her own voice.
She felt his glance. Imagined that he smiled tenderly. “Me too.”
She sighed sleepily. “You’re a nice man, Wyatt Fortune, but you don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not always a nice man,” he countered. “But I am one who doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.” He found her hand and lifted it, kissing her knuckles.
“What have you ever done that wasn’t nice?”
He chuckled softly. “Besides picking on my kid brother and sister because I usually couldn’t get away with it with my older brothers?”
“Just when you were children, I’ll bet. Your family probably all think you’re perfect.”
He released her hand and shifted his hold on the steering wheel. “Not exactly.”
She was sorry that he’d let go of her hand. She tucked it inside the sinfully soft wrap he’d purchased for he
r. She knew her yarns, and the fiber was exceptional.
She was also glad she hadn’t seen the price tag on it. She could guess its value, and she would have had to refuse such an extravagance. She should have refused it.
She couldn’t help but glide her fingertips back and forth against the soft ivory. Yawning, she snuggled her chin deeper into the luxurious weave. The gift had probably not meant a thing to him, but she’d treasure it. “Always,” she murmured.
Wyatt heard Savannah’s murmur, though he couldn’t make out what she’d said. But one glance told him that she’d fallen asleep, her hands clutching the wrap like a child’s favorite blanket. He smiled and slipped a lock of hair away from her cheek.
Her hair felt like cool silk; her skin like warm satin. It was hard not to get distracted wondering what the rest of her would feel like.
He soon reached the lights of Red Rock, and slowed as he drove through town toward his hotel. Savannah didn’t stir, even when he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “Savannah, honey. We’re here.” He brushed his thumb along her cheek.
Her eyes flickered open just enough for him to see a glimmer of liquid chocolate. “Hmm?”
“Time to wake up,” he murmured softly. “Give me your address so I can drive you home.” The disadvantage of plying her with wine so she’d relax was that he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation, no matter how appealing she was. He had some standards, and that was an unbreakable one.
“You don’t have to drive me home,” she said, her eyes closing once more. “My car’s here.”
He stroked her cheek again. “And you’re in no shape to drive.” Unlike the night before when she’d suspected he shouldn’t drive, he knew for a fact that she couldn’t. Nor was he about to let her try. “You live near Red, right? Savannah? Or would you rather stay here with me?”
Her eyes opened wide. She sat bolt upright, scrubbing her hands down her cheeks. She stared around, taking in the fact that they were parked outside the hotel. “Stay?”
There was no missing the shock on her face. You’d have thought she’d never spent the night with a man before. “I’ll even take the couch,” he offered. He knew it was the only way he’d be able to keep from touching her, no matter what his personal code demanded. But come later, all bets were off. “I’d carry you inside, but I don’t want the night staff in the lobby to get the wrong idea.”
Her New Year's Fortune Page 5
