Military Man

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Daise?”

  “What?”

  “Did you happen to take up yoga in the last few years?”

  “Huh?” She attended a weekly class, but she didn’t think she could Downward Dog herself out of this predicament. In love all over again with a man known as a pirate, a player, a playboy. Daisy knew more about the grown-up Reese Lavery than maybe she wanted to. “What does yoga have to do with anything?”

  “Daise, you’re smaller than me. I think if you ducked under one set of our arms, we could at least be face-to-face.”

  She stilled. Face-to-face. For more kisses. For more eye-to-eye contact. For more honesty.

  Because wouldn’t he be able to read her feelings? It was how he made his living, after all, by reading situations and people.

  “Maybe I’m safer just as I am,” she said.

  “The danger left with Jason Jamison,” Reese replied. “Now it’s just you and me, Daise, after all these years.”

  She’d thrown caution to the wind for the first time that summer when she was seventeen. He’d been hanging at a back table at the Dairy Dream and she’d come in with her friends for a softie cone. They’d elbowed her. “Who’s that?”

  One look at him and she’d known exactly who he was.

  Hers.

  She wanted to look at him again. So she thanked the Westwood Yoga Studio as she scooted her rear end alongside his and ducked her head under the arch of one set of their linked arms—though it was less yoga and more like half a square dance move she’d learned in fourth grade—to find herself face-to-face with Reese.

  The shift meant one pair of their hands was positioned between their chests, and she could feel his heart beating against her curled fingers. It was a more awkward position for sitting, but a less awkward position for kissing.

  His head ducked toward hers. “Hello, Daisy,” he said, smiling.

  And she smiled, too, because she was so unbearably happy to be gazing at him. “Hello, Reese.”

  He kissed her upper lip. He kissed her lower one. His mouth brushed one corner of her mouth, and then the other. Content to let him lead her along, Daisy watched through half-closed eyes, taking in the lean planes of his face, the stubby darkness of his lashes, the growth of beard that was just starting to shadow his jaw.

  He licked her bottom lip.

  Okay, so she wasn’t so content anymore.

  “Reese,” she whispered.

  “Hmm?” He licked there again.

  “Kiss me.”

  “I am.” His lips ran over her right cheekbone and across the bridge of her nose to her left.

  Goose bumps tickled her neck and ran underneath her bra. She squirmed, causing his hand to accidentally brush her nipple. He stilled, then deliberately made the move again. The already hard nub stiffened more.

  “Daisy,” he groaned. His eyes closed and he slammed his mouth against hers. She opened her lips and his tongue slid inside.

  Oh, Reese. Oh, my. Oh, yes.

  When they were teenagers the kisses had gone on for hours. It had taken weeks for them to move to touches and then to caresses and then to skin. But now…now she was older and she remembered that pleasure of the past and she remembered that not an hour ago she hadn’t thought they had much time left to live.

  Tangling her tongue with his, she tugged at the buttons on his shirt. He drew his mouth away from hers and ran it over her chin to her neck. He sucked there and she shuddered. His touch, his scent, his heat was making her dizzy, but she had to have more of all of it, so she worked one-handed on those stubborn buttons, taking his own hand along for the ride. Finally the last one pulled free to ping against the metal of the truck bed.

  And there it was, Reese’s bare skin, Reese’s chest, which was a man’s chest now. It was hard and layered with flat muscles that twitched when she drew her fingertips along them. The hair along his breastbone was silky and it tickled her palms.

  Reese groaned. “Daisy. You’re making me nuts. This damn duct tape is making me nuts.”

  She pressed her mouth to his chest and he groaned again. Then his fingers pushed up her chin so they could be mouth-to-mouth. She took his tongue into her body as she wanted to take the rest of him into her.

  His fingers fumbled at the buttons on her shirt, bumping against the inside slopes of her breasts. Her shivering didn’t aid him, but she couldn’t help it. She could think only about wanting him to touch her more, more, more.

  A rhythmic thwapping intruded on her desire-drugged consciousness. She closed her eyes to the noise, relegating it to fly-drone annoyance, but then the cow—that damned cow!—started bawling.

  She felt Reese freeze. He lifted his head and his fingers stopped their work at her buttons. They both gazed over at the cow, then skyward.

  A sheriff’s helicopter was circling them. Circling lower. The cow skittered down the road. Daisy’s heart skittered, too.

  “We have company,” she said. A few more minutes and that company would have had a lot more of her to look at. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed.

  “Daisy,” Reese said.

  She forced herself to meet his eyes.

  “We’re going to finish this. Mark my words.”

  CHAPTER 6

  It didn’t take long for the authorities to surround Reese, Daisy and the disabled cars. There was the sheriff, several deputies, then dark sedan loads of agents in even darker suits that shouted “Federal Bureau of Investigation.” The helicopter shifted higher, then flew off as a thirtyish, black-haired man wearing informal clothes and a grim expression cut through the duct tape binding Daisy to Reese.

  The other man pulled the sticky stuff free of her skin, then gently chafed her wrists while looking into her face with serious eyes. “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked, switching his attention to her other arm. “He didn’t hurt you?”

  While Reese couldn’t blame the guy for giving his attention to beautiful Daisy, he still scowled at the stranger as he ripped the remnants of the tape free from his own arm. “We’re both fine, thanks very much. Who the hell are you?”

  “Emmett. Emmett…Jamison.”

  Reese reached out and yanked Daisy away from the other man to hold her against his chest. “Emmett who?”

  The black-haired man pulled a badge from his pocket. Emmett Jamison, even without the prerequisite dark suit, was FBI.

  “Jason’s my brother,” the agent admitted. “And I’d be grateful if you could tell me what he said and what he did while he was with you. Anything. Everything.”

  “He thought about killing us,” Reese said, his arm tightening around Daisy’s waist.

  Emmett nodded, obviously unsurprised. “You two are lucky. But I promise you, I’m going to stop him. Now, tell me exactly what happened. Please.”

  They told the story fourteen, maybe 114, times. Their audience changed with each telling, with the exception of Emmett Jamison. He listened through each and every recital of the details.

  Finally Reese put a halt to it. “Don’t you have enough?” Daisy was leaning against his body and he ran his hand down the back of her hair. “She’s tired. We need water, food, a chance to relax. I’d like to make a call to my cousin Ryan.”

  Emmett frowned. “Ryan Fortune?”

  “He’s actually my mother’s cousin,” Reese clarified. “But I want to know what’s going on. Jason said he had the ransom money…but what about Lily?”

  It seemed impossible, but Emmett Jamison’s expression went even grimmer, and Reese’s gut clenched. “Oh, God. Is Lily—”

  “No! Lily has been recovered and she’s going to be fine. She’s been through an ordeal, of course, but she’s going to be fine. Ryan’s better for having her back.”

  “But Ryan is not well?”

  Emmett hesitated, then merely repeated himself. “He’s better for having Lily back.”

  Meaning the older man’s health was still deteriorating. Reese closed his eyes a moment and took comfort in the warm feel of Daisy
against him. At least Ryan was reunited with his beloved Lily again.

  Just as he was reunited with Daisy. He stroked his hand down her hair once more.

  Magic might never last, but he wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

  “Can someone give Daisy and me a ride into Red Rock?” He had a room at the inn there.

  Daisy glanced back at him. “I need to go back to—”

  “And I’ll get you there,” Reese promised. “Later.” After he touched her again, tasted her, steeped himself in old memories and made new ones.

  “We almost died today,” he whispered in her ear. “I just can’t let you go quite yet.”

  Daisy had second, third, fourth thoughts as she sat beside Reese in the backseat of a deputy’s four-wheel drive. Reese must have felt her growing tension, because he took her hand and lightly rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.

  “A meal at Emma’s,” he said, mentioning the popular café in the center of town. “We deserve that, at least.”

  And at most they deserved…what? A chance to see how sex would be between them after fifteen years? Would it be as good? Better? Either way, it wouldn’t make it any easier to say goodbye to him once again.

  Still, she let him help her out of the deputy’s car. He guided her through the entrance of the café with his fingertips on the small of her back. Her skin reacted to the small touches, goose bumps jittering across her flesh as her face flushed hot.

  The iced water they were served shortly after taking their seats at a tiny table didn’t cool her in the least. The way Reese was studying her face didn’t calm the nervous pounding of her heart.

  “Reese—”

  “Daisy—”

  “You go first,” he said, his gaze holding hers.

  “Okay.” Fine. She was going to tell him this wasn’t a good idea. She was going to tell him that it was time for her to head back to the farm and put this entire episode behind her. It wasn’t practical or sensible to indulge herself or her senses in old memories. Since Reese had left all those years ago, she’d been luckless at love, hadn’t she? Swallowing hard, she half rose from her chair. “I—”

  “Daisy Frances!”

  The new voice startled her. Her head jerked right, and there, coming toward her, was the embodiment of one of her romantic relationship disasters. She pasted on a smile, though, as John Taylor gave her a light hug and kissed her cheek.

  “How’ve you been?” He continued to smile back at her as he held on to her hand.

  “Well. Terrific.” But John hadn’t been a disaster, she corrected herself. He was a nice man and he hadn’t broken her heart. Though he hadn’t made it pound, either. The problem was, like every other guy she’d dated in the past fifteen years, there’d been no sizzle between them. The brief interest she’d felt had fizzled out almost immediately. John hadn’t been a disaster—he’d been a dud. For her, love had never lived up to its billing.

  “Reese Lavery.” Now Reese was standing, too, and introducing himself to John. Daisy let them run through a couple minutes’ worth of small talk without her, because she was busy comparing the two men. They were both tall, lean, handsome. Successful. But, she thought, her gaze fixed on Reese, for some reason he was the one who made her achingly aware of every female part of herself.

  John slanted her a bemused look. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

  Daisy wiggled her fingers in farewell, then slid back down into her seat.

  “Seems like a good man,” Reese commented as he sat, too.

  “He seemed like a good idea at the time.” She’d dated him her last year in college.

  His mouth quirked up in a smile. “But not anymore?”

  She sighed. What was the point of practicality? She had the rest of her life for that. If she couldn’t have love, why couldn’t she have this? Why couldn’t she have sex with the one man who’d lit a fire inside her that had never died? “Frankly, the only idea that seems any good to me right now is you.”

  NOT THE END

  Fortune’s Legacy

  by

  Maureen Child

  Enjoy this excerpt of Maureen Child’s Fortune’s Legacy, the eleventh book in THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION series—available April 2006.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Henry Stevens got that promotion, damn it.” Kyra Fortune wanted to kick something. Hard. But she wasn’t willing to damage a brand-new pair of designer heels, so she squelched the urge.

  “I heard,” her assistant said glumly.

  Kyra turned around to face the other woman in her office. Tracy Hudson’s pixielike features were drawn into a blend of sympathy and disappointment.

  “What exactly did you hear?” Kyra asked, knowing full well that the grapevine in Voltage Energy Company was bound to have complete details by now. And all she really knew was that she’d been passed over for promotion.

  Again.

  True, in the years she’d been at Voltage, she’d steadily climbed the corporate ladder to Associate V.P. in the Expansion Division. But it wasn’t fast enough for her. Her own annual review was still months away and she knew that if promotions were being made now, by the time it was her turn, there wouldn’t be a slot left to give to her. No matter what she did to earn it.

  Tracy set her memo pad down on her lap, leaned forward and got into some serious dirt dishing. “Mr. Stevens’s assistant, Jolie, told Pam in accounting, who told Jacob in the mail room, who just told me ten minutes ago…”

  In spite of the fury still tickling her insides, Kyra was forced to admire the flow of information. If the top dogs in this company thought they could keep a secret, they really ought to step out of their Ivory towers once in a while. “Told you what?”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Goes without saying,” Kyra pointed out and, reaching down, snatched up a silver-plated letter opener. Bouncing the blade end of the thing against her palm, she waited.

  “Apparently Mr. Wolff told Mr. Stevens that his work was ‘exemplary’ and—”

  “Exemplary?” Kyra repeated, stunned to her toes. “The man can’t find the executive bathroom without a guide.”

  Tracy’s lips twitched, then flattened out again. “He also said that Mr. Stevens had a promising future here and—”

  “God,” Kyra muttered, tossing the letter opener onto her desktop. “There’s more?”

  “Mr. Wolff gave him the corner office on twenty-six.”

  An unpleasant little squeaky noise escaped Kyra’s throat. “Twenty-six? The office with the blue walls and the built-in bookcases?”

  “The very one.”

  Yes. The very one Kyra had been mentally redecorating for the past month. Ever since Myrna Edgington had given up that office to stay at home with her kids. Kyra couldn’t quite understand the former executive’s motivation, but she herself had been hoping to take over Myrna’s old office. It was so Kyra. It was perfect. And damn it, she’d earned it.

  She’d been so positive that no one would be able to deny the good work she’d been doing for the company.

  Yet it appeared that while she waited months for her shot at another notch up the ladder of success, other people were stepping on her head on the way to the top. Didn’t seem to matter how hard she worked, how many clients she brought into the fold at Voltage. All that counted around here was if Garrett Wolff approved of you or not.

  And apparently, Kyra thought with a disgusted sigh, he didn’t approve of her.

  Not exactly a news flash.

  Her immediate supervisor was a tall, gorgeous hunk of man. Garrett never took her seriously. He always looked at her as if he half expected her to show up in tennis whites and serve a backhand across the boardroom table. All because her last name was Fortune.

  She glanced around her office, taking in the softly soothing pale lavender walls, the carefully chosen art sprinkled around the room, and the comfortable yet businesslike chairs. She’d made a place for herself here. Put her own personal stamp on what would have
been a distinctly impersonal junior executive’s office.

  But she wanted more.

  She couldn’t help it. That was just who she was. She knew darn well that some people considered her spoiled. But Kyra didn’t think of herself like that. She wasn’t spoiled. She was…appreciated.

  And why shouldn’t she be? she argued silently. She worked hard. She didn’t trade on her family name. She came in early and went home late. She could have gone to work for Fortune TX, Ltd. when she left college. But she hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted anyone to be able to stand back and accuse her of being successful simply because she was a Fortune.

  She’d come to Voltage specifically to avoid any whispers of nepotism. And it had worked. In fact, to prove herself she’d had to work even harder here than anyone else. As far as she could see, at Voltage, her family name almost worked against her. Damn it, she’d earned every step she’d taken up the corporate ladder and she wouldn’t stop until she’d reached the top.

  No matter how hard her archnemesis, Garrett Wolff, tried to prevent her from succeeding.

  Just thinking about the man could make Kyra grind her teeth in frustration. Every time she was around him, her skin hummed and her temper flared. He was a match to her stick of dynamite.

  To hide her feelings, she turned away from Tracy’s too-knowing gaze and stared out the window.

  The spring sky was the kind of blue you found only in Texas—as bright and sharp a color as the bluebonnets that dotted every meadow in the state. A few high white clouds scudded across the wide expanse of sky and tossed shadows onto the buildings below. Just outside San Antonio, but officially within the city limits, Kyra thought wryly, the business park had all the charm of a maximum security prison.

  The buildings were tall and bland. The landscaping consisted of tiny patches of grass with the occasional baby tree, boasting a branch and a half each, plopped down in the center of said patch. No flowers to brighten the sterile environment. Actually, no color at all, except for the postage-stamp-sized splotches of green. The glass windows in the buildings were mirrored, so that a view only gained you a picture of another building from a different angle.