Her Forever Man

by Leanne Banks

  “A silent partner,” Chuck murmured again, grinning from ear to ear. “A knockout from New York City, no less.”

  So get over it, Brock thought. He cleared his throat. “What do you do in New York?”

  She hesitated. “Not as much as I would like, but I’ve been working on that.”

  “How?” Tyler asked.

  She swallowed a bite and took a sip. “You’ll laugh,” she said to all of them. “Everyone does.”

  Brock took in the little signs of her discomfort, her slight wiggle in her seat, the way she dipped her head. He wondered how she managed to look appealing when she was being evasive. “I won’t laugh,” he said.

  Her expression said she didn’t believe him. She glanced at Chuck and Tyler. “I think that every person has a purpose on this earth and if you find your purpose and perform it, then you will be happy and the world will be a better place.”

  Brock nodded at the philosophy. He agreed. He just would have stated it differently. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  Felicity’s lips twitched. “In this case, woman.”

  “No argument there,” Chuck murmured.

  “I’m in an unusual position,” Felicity continued. “My family has a history of being fortunate with their investments.”

  “She’s loaded, too?” Chuck asked.

  Tyler muffled a chuckle.

  “Cut it,” Brock said.

  Chuck stuffed a bite of stew in his mouth.

  “Now that my parents are gone, I have to make decisions,” she said, sadness clouding her eyes. “My family has been fairly generous with charitable causes, but I think it’s my purpose to take that charity a step further.”

  “In what way?” Tyler asked, no more curious than Brock was.

  “I want to give away a significant portion of my inheritance,” she said. “I want to give the money to a worthy cause.”

  Silence followed, and all three men stared at Felicity as if she’d spoken in Swahili.

  Brock stifled a sigh. God save him from crazy women with more money than sense.

  She gave a low chuckle. “Well, you didn’t laugh, but you look just like my financial advisors did the first time I told them what I wanted to do. I’m not clinically insane,” she assured them.

  “Why don’t you want to keep it?” Chuck asked.

  Brock watched the world-weariness tug at her wry smile. “Because the only thing the money is doing right now is accumulating. For what? There are better uses for it.”

  “If you need a worthy cause,” Tyler said, “the hospital where I practice needs—”

  “—Tyler,” Brock interrupted before his brother could get too wound up.

  “If she wants to donate it to a worthy cause, we could use—”

  “Miss Chambeau is a guest in our house. We don’t badger guests for money,” he said in the quiet, but rock-hard voice he used when he pulled rank. “Even for good causes.”

  Tyler sighed impatiently, but dug into his stew.

  Chuck shook his head. “I never heard of that one. So your job is to give away your money. Why don’t you want to keep it for your husband and kids?”

  “I don’t have a husband and children,” she said in a crisp voice.

  “Yeah, but some lucky guy’ll get a ring on your finger—”

  Felicity shook her head. “I’m not getting married. Right now, my appeal to men is my inheritance. As soon as I give half of it away, my appeal will disappear.”

  Half of it! Her statement was like another little bomb exploding. Brock stared at her in silence. Surely the woman knew she possessed more attractions than her endless supply of dead presidents.

  Tyler cleared his throat. “You might bump into someone who can change your mind about that,” he said in a mild voice that bordered on flirtatious.

  Felicity appeared to ignore the hint of flattery and firmly shook her head.

  Chuck wrinkled his brow. “I still don’t get what you’re doing down here.”

  “She’s down here so she can get away from the city and think without being questioned half to death,” Brock said, thinking the woman clearly needed a keeper. He was in no way interested in the job, but he wasn’t going to let anyone take advantage of her while she was in his house. The light was beginning to dawn. Her lawyers had probably sent her down here until she cooled on the idea of ditching her fortune. So now she was his problem.

  “Oh,” Chuck said. “Well, after dinner if you’d like a tour around the ranch I’ll be glad to—”

  “We’ve got that heifer ready to drop in the north pasture,” Brock said.

  “I thought you were going to check on that one.”

  “I’m doing the late check tonight. If Miss Chambeau wants to look at the ranch, I’ll take her.” He glanced up at Felicity.

  “That would be nice. I haven’t been out today,” Felicity said, surprise widening her eyes. “Thank you.”

  For the rest of the meal, Tyler took over the conversation and shared a humorous account about one of his young patients. They discussed Bree’s virus. Brock glanced at Felicity. Her breeding showed in her impeccable manners, but there was an empathy in her that he wouldn’t have expected. He noticed she gave the person to whom she was speaking her undivided attention, and lit up the table with her smile. She was no hardship to watch. The men would soon learn that fact. It wouldn’t be long before the whole county knew it. She was going to be one hell of a hardship to keep at the ranch, he thought, grinding his teeth.

  Brock noticed his son’s quiet curious gaze on her through most of the meal. He wondered how much Jacob missed having a mother, and felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t have to worry with Bree. She made her preferences and needs known loud and clear. Jacob, however, felt things deeply and kept his thoughts to himself. Lately, in fact, he’d seemed a little too quiet.

  When Addie brought cherry pie to the table, Felicity lifted her hand to refuse, then slid a glance to Jacob. “The stew was so good I can only eat a couple of bites of pie. Do you think you could help me?”

  Jacob eagerly nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

  Brock narrowed his eyes. His brother was intrigued with Felicity, and Chuck was salivating. His son was immune, though, he was sure of it. The ominous feeling in his gut tightened, however. If he didn’t keep a tight rein on her, Felicity Chambeau was going to wreak havoc at the Triple L.

  After Brock checked on Bree, Felicity followed him out into the cool night air. She had readily agreed when he’d suggested a walk instead of a full tour. They wandered along the path beside the fence, and she took in her surroundings as well as she could, considering the darkness. She glanced up. The sky was huge and full of stars. Although she knew her ancestors, along with her parents, were turning in their graves, announcing her intentions had been liberating. She noticed the silence again. “It’s so quiet it feels loud,” she said, shaking her head.

  “You’re just not used to it. If you listen you’ll hear the rustle of tree leaves in the breeze or a mockingbird. A little farther down the drive, you might hear a cow.”

  Felicity stood still and closed her eyes. She heard the rustle of tree leaves. It was a fresh, musical sound that made her fingers itch to play the piano.

  “Do you make a habit of telling people you’re going to give away half of your fortune?” he asked, interrupting the magical moment.

  She opened her eyes and met Brock’s gaze. His intensity made her nervous, but she didn’t blink. “I thought you would laugh, and I knew you would think I’m crazy.”

  “I just wondered if that was the reason your attorneys sent you down here.”

  She sighed and walked over to the wooden fence. The wood was rough to her touch. “They’re hoping I’ll change my mind.”

  “If you tell everyone you meet that you’re going to give away your money, then a lot of people will try to take advantage of you. Your attorneys are probably trying to protect you.”

  “My attorneys have dollar
signs in their eyes. Besides, I haven’t told everyone my plans. In New York, I confided in Douglas, and it turns out that was a very poor choice. And my attorneys are not trying to protect me,” she insisted. “They’re appalled that I’m considering doing such a thing and hoping I will change my mind.”

  “Why do you think you won’t ever get married?” he demanded, then shrugged. “You’re not ugly.”

  Felicity gave a double take at his pseudo-compliment. “Your absence of flattery is refreshing. Orthodontics is primitive, but you can’t deny the results,” she said, baring her teeth. “The contact lenses do their job, the physical trainer has done his, and the makeup artist at Georgette Klinger beauty salon has shared a few of her tricks with me. A lasting relationship means someone would love me for who I am on the inside. The Chambeaus have a history of developing their fortune, not their inner selves. I don’t want the kind of marriage my parents had, and I’m not sure I would know how to make anything better, so maybe I’d just better work on making the world and me better.”

  Felicity took in the long-suffering expression on Brock’s face and gave a wry smile. “I think I was saying that more to me than to you. You’re an innocent passerby who got hit by my incoming lecture. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “You just sound kinda like Tyler did when he was thinking about being a psychiatrist. Thank God that phase didn’t last long.”

  Felicity laughed. “Too much self-examination—”

  “—is a waste of time and depressing. Not only that,” Brock said, “it causes indigestion. You need to find a job or get married. If you get busy, you’ll feel better.”

  “I’m not getting married,” Felicity insisted. “And my primary skill has been writing checks to lawyers, financial consultants, and charities my mother favored.”

  Impatience tightened his mouth. “Well, while you’re here I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell everyone you meet that you’re planning to give away half your fortune. We’re not set up to deal with the influx of traffic at the Triple L, especially during calving season.”

  “You think I’m nuts. Go ahead and admit it,” she dared him. “You think I’m teetotally crazy,” she said, choosing an expression she’d heard Bree use.

  “You’re not thinking about your heritage—” he began.

  “I have no heritage,” she said. “I refuse to have the same kind of marriage my parents had. They led separate lives, and I was a disappointment to them. I was a clumsy, shy little girl with crooked teeth who liked to read a lot. I played the piano, but not quite well enough to be a concert pianist. I made good grades, but I wasn’t gifted. And socially, I didn’t sparkle.” She straightened her shoulders. “Sharing my wealth is the one way I can make my mark, the one way I can do something good and productive.”

  Brock sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “I didn’t want to ask this,” he muttered. “Why are you down here?”

  “I told you. My lawyers—”

  “Why did they send you to me?”

  “It wasn’t specifically to you,” she told him. All the same, she thought, his broad shoulders could handle anything.

  “It was specifically to get you out of their hair for a while. Why did they send you away?”

  “Because I hired a financial consultant to help me set up a foundation.”

  “Douglas,” Brock said.

  Regret and anger roiled through her. Felicity frowned. “Yes. Doug. He once worked for the firm my father used. I met him at a social function, and he told me he’d gone into business for himself. He called me a few times and appeared genuinely interested in helping me. I began to transfer funds for the foundation. Three weeks ago, he took that money and left for South America. My attorneys don’t trust my judgment. At the moment, I don’t trust myself either. I need someone I can trust. Someone who isn’t interested in me. Someone with integrity,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully.

  “After you dump your money, what will you do?” Brock asked.

  Felicity shrugged. She had only a vague picture of her future. “I don’t know. Enter a convent or buy a cottage on the coast of Maine and read and have three cats. I’m not sure it’s all that important. What’s important is that I set up this foundation.”

  “They’re not going to let you in a convent with your body,” Brock muttered.

  Her stomach took a little dip. She ignored it. “Then Maine it is,” she said wryly, then turned serious. “Would you help me?”

  He shot her a wary look. “You just met me. Why would you trust me?”

  “Several reasons. Gut feeling.” She wouldn’t tell him she had an odd sense of fate about Brock. Nothing romantic, of course. He was trustworthy. “You’re solid and responsible. You give the impression that you were born forty years old. You come highly recommended,” she said. “Your daughter says you’re the best. You kept your end of a bargain you didn’t make by letting me stay in your home. Plus there are the other reasons.”

  “And they are?” he prompted in a skeptical tone.

  “You don’t like me. You don’t want me here. In fact,” she said, pushing aside her little twinge, “you don’t want me, period.”

  Three

  God save him from the female gender, Brock thought, and shook his head. “I said you weren’t ugly,” he told her.

  “There’s a large gap between not ugly and attractive,” Felicity said with a Mona Lisa smile.

  She hugged her arms against the cold and Brock couldn’t help noticing the way her nipples beaded against her sweater dress. It was easy to imagine how her breasts would look and feel naked; rounded ivory mounds with small raspberry tips, soft, sensitive, responsive. She would feel like heaven in his hands, against his chest, in his mouth.

  And there would be hell to pay, he thought as he remembered Felicity was the proverbial Ms. Moneybags.

  “You’re an honorable man,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I thought honor was an extinct virtue among men, but you possess it. I think you could help me.”

  Brock sighed. He didn’t spend much time thinking about honor and virtue. He just tried to do what was right. “What do you want from me? I’m no lawyer.”

  “You can help me find someone I can trust to set up the foundation. I can tell you’re not a man to be taken advantage of. I don’t seem to have developed that skill yet,” she said wryly.

  Everything she said was true, but Brock still didn’t feel right helping Felicity part with half her fortune. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four,” she said. “Why is that important?”

  “I’d feel easier about this if you were about sixty years older, if you’d lived more and longer and had more experience.”

  “Maybe you could pretend,” she said with a cheeky smile.

  He eyed her body once more and shook his head. “Not likely,” he said dryly. “You’ve never been married or had any children,” he repeated.

  “Neither,” she said.

  “Getting married and having children might change your perspective,” he told her.

  “I already told you I’m not doing that.”

  “You could change your mind.”

  “I can’t. It’s not meant to be. I accept that. My purpose is to do something else,” she said earnestly and stepped closer to him. “I may not be older, more experienced or married, but I can identify need. I want to do something about it. There’s an emptiness in me, and I know the only way I can make it go away is to do this. Is it so bad that I want to make life better for some people? Is it so bad that I don’t want to hoard what I have? That I want to share it instead?”

  Her passion and vulnerability tugged at his heart. For someone with so much, she understood the fulfillment in giving. Brock was torn. On one hand, it went against every drop of his Logan blood for Felicity to insist that she was unconcerned about the heritage of her future family. On the other hand, he could see that she was trying to create a different kind of heritage. “Okay, duchess, just f
or this moment, let’s say I help you give away your money. What are you going to do with the rest of your life?”

  “I don’t know. That’s not what is important—” she began.

  “That’s where I disagree. This is a mighty big decision, and you have the rest of your life to live with it. And I have the rest of my life to live with aiding and abetting your…” he paused, then finished his thought, “…your insanity or generosity.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” he said, adjusting his hat. “I want you to think about this for a couple of weeks and tell me what you have planned for yourself, how you’re going to live your life. Then, we’ll see.”

  Felicity didn’t want to wait. Her goal burned like a coal in her gut. Since Doug had left the country with her money, she’d felt as if she’d taken ten steps backward. “It’s called exploring your options.” Brock leaned closer. “I can tell you’re trying to find a way around what I’m saying, but if you want my integrity, honor and help, then you’re gonna have to do this my way. I have a bad feeling that if I don’t take the reins when you and I go down this road together, then I’ll end up in the ditch.”

  Although Brock could tell she wanted to argue, some remnant of sanity must have made her hold her tongue. After he escorted Ms. Moneybags back to the house, he took the truck out to make a late-night check on the cow. She hadn’t dropped. It could happen tomorrow or the next day. One of his neighbor’s bulls had waded through a shared stream and had a field day with his cows. That could mess up the birth weight of the calves, so he had to watch carefully. The weather was still iffy at night. Cattle weren’t the most intelligent animals on the earth and he’d watched a few new moms drop their babies in freezing water. After Felicity had disrupted his evening, he needed some time to himself to clear his head. He took in the wide starry sky and gradually began to feel a glimmer of peace return.