Lassoed Into Marriage

by Christine Wenger

  He slowly finished his drink, his thoughts turned inward and only when the D.J. finally stopped the music did he add his own contribution to the bartender’s tip glass. She gave him a good-natured smile tinged with a hint of regret.

  He pretended not to notice. He just wasn’t interested. So he left the bar and the restaurant behind, and headed out into the cold night. He didn’t have to bother saying his goodbyes to anyone in the family; they’d all left and he’d be seeing them again later in the morning at the brunch being held at their hotel. His mother had reminded him three separate times about the brunch, as if she’d suspected—correctly enough—that he’d had more than his fill of wedding folderol.

  His rental car was only one of a few still remaining in the parking lot. When he reached it, he unlocked the car and climbed in. But instead of starting the engine, he sighed again, staring blindly at the steering wheel.

  They hadn’t broken the news to Clara yet that they wouldn’t be going home. It didn’t take a genius to know that his mother wouldn’t be thrilled. She’d never been involved in the running of JMF, but she’d always been involved in her children. The fact that they were all adults with their own lives hadn’t changed that at all.

  He raked back his hair, digging his fingers into the back of his tight neck. Deciding to draw that line in the sand had been the only thing to do, considering what their father had done. But how were they going to break the news to their mother? As far as she knew, they were all scheduled to leave for Atlanta after the brunch. They needed to let her know they wouldn’t be accompanying her.

  “Sir? Would you like a cab after all?”

  Jerked from his thoughts, Wyatt frowned and looked up.

  The hostess from the restaurant stood beside the car, a brilliant red scarf draped around her shoulders. She was leaning down slightly and even though the only light to speak of came from the dome light in the rental car, he could see the way her eyebrows crinkled together over her eyes. He was hard-pressed to know where to look—at those dark eyes of hers or the spectacular cleavage that was leaning over him, barely inches from his face. He noticed no rings on the fingers wrapped in her shawl, but aside from that, he resolutely kept his gaze above her neck. It wasn’t exactly easy. “Do you follow all your customers out to their cars?”

  Aware of the dismissive glance the man gave her chest, Sarah-Jane jerked the shawl more closely around her shoulders, clutching it together tightly with her fist. “I only follow the ones who’ve been drinking and want to drive.” She managed to keep her voice cool, which was a feat since she’d never done such a thing in her entire life. But she certainly wasn’t going to let down Maria and Jose Mendoza.

  The handsome man frowning up at her had held court at the bar with his companions for hours. She didn’t even want to contemplate the restaurant’s liability if he drove while intoxicated.

  Although, she had to admit, even in the dim light, he didn’t exactly look intoxicated.

  And then, he planted his foot on the ground and slid out from behind the steering wheel to stand in front of her.

  She swallowed hastily, taking a step back, only to feel her ankle wobble in the high heel.

  His hand shot out and he steadied her. Even adding the toe-pinching stilts to her five-foot-seven height, he was still a few inches taller than she was. And his shoulders were so wide, they actually made her feel like hers weren’t.

  “I think you might be the one who needs a cab.”

  He was laughing at her. She jerked her elbow away and took another careful, nonwobbling, step back. “The pavement’s uneven,” she defended, then wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “Then you’d better be careful,” he warned lightly. He looked down at her feet. “It’d be a crying shame if something happened to one of those beautiful ankles of yours.”

  Definitely laughing at her. “It’d be a crying shame if something happened to that beautiful car you shouldn’t be driving,” she returned.

  He looked up at the pitch black sky for a moment. When he looked back down at her, his smile was right out there in the open. But before her defenses turned her completely into a block of stone, he stuck out his hand. “Wyatt Fortune. And aside from one shot and a bit of champagne, I was drinking soda all night. But I can walk a straight line if you want me to.”

  Sarah-Jane stared at the hand extended toward her. Okay, so she’d spent half the night inside the restaurant trying not to be caught watching him. And it really had been concern for everyone’s safety that had prompted her to approach him when she’d seen the way he’d just been sitting alone so oddly in his car. He hadn’t even closed his car door.

  But now, the tall gift-from-the-gods-handsome man wanted to shake her hand? In the moment that it took to realize it, her palm managed to get sweaty. She tightened her grip around the wrap that Maria had provided in addition to the dress and shoes. If she continued just standing there like the world’s biggest idiot, he’d end up thinking she was rude. Which was an impression she definitely didn’t want to leave.

  For Maria’s sake, of course.

  She swallowed and placed her hand in his. His fingers slowly curled around hers and heat zipped up her arm, past her elbow and beyond.

  “That’s not so bad, is it?”

  It was agony. She waited a breathless moment for him to release her hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he just continued looking at her, his gaze steady and seemingly sober.

  “What’s your name?”

  Her face was flushing. She could feel the heat flooding right up through her ears. “S...Savannah.” The name came out of nowhere and the heat in her face turned downright fiery.

  His thumb drifted over the back of her hand. “Beautiful name. Beautiful city. Been there many times. Is that where you’re from?”

  Where had that name come from? “Um...no. My, um, my parents first met there.” One lie. Now two. Maybe her parents had been to Savannah, Georgia, at some point in their lives, but it certainly wasn’t where they’d met. That had been in good ol’ Houston, where they still lived.

  “So, Savannah.” He drew out her name. “Why were you working on New Year’s Eve and not out celebrating?”

  She blamed the night air for the shiver working down her spine, rather than the way he was still moving his thumb ever so slowly against her hand. She tugged and he finally let it go. The fact that he seemed reluctant to do so had to be her imagination. It was all fired up because she’d spent so much of the evening daydreaming. Fantasizing that she was someone like a Savannah, and not who she really was. Plain Sarah-Jane. “My boyfriend is out of town.” Another whopper. What was wrong with her?

  He grimaced and shook his head. “Should have known there’d be a boyfriend. Whatever he’s doing must’ve been mighty important.”

  “Why?” The question popped out despite herself.

  “No man in his right mind wants to leave behind a beautiful woman like you on a night like this if he can possibly help it.”

  She twined her fingers tightly in the cashmere wrap. She couldn’t come up with a response to save her soul.

  “Are you headed home?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled slightly and glanced around the parking lot. Even the other two cars had now left. “Where’s your car?”

  “I walked.”

  “Ah. Can I give you a ride?”

  Her mouth dried up. She shook her head even though something inside her wanted to jump up and down with glee.

  “You sure?” He spread his hands. “I promise you’d be safe. Whether it looked like it or not in there, I leave most of the drinking to my brothers. I’m sober as a judge.” He smiled slightly. “If we kissed, you wouldn’t taste anything but me.”

  Her jaw loosened. If?

  “But then your boyfriend probably wouldn’t approve.”


  She nearly choked. Thank goodness he didn’t ask for the nonexistent boyfriend’s name. “No. Probably not.”

  “Seriously, though. You shouldn’t be out walking alone at this hour.”

  “It’s only a few minutes from here. I’ll be fine.”

  “And getting in the car of a stranger isn’t something you’re anxious to do.”

  Her ears went hot again, because that thought hadn’t even entered her mind. And it certainly should have.

  “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.

  ISBN: 9781460313558

  Copyright © 2013 by Christine Wenger

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