Fortune Found

by Victoria Pade

  “I guess it is good that you didn’t have kids to get caught up in that,” Jessie observed.

  “What did I tell you?” he finished as if he’d been vindicated. “Now, back to what got me into this—how come you’ve made yourself scarce this week?”

  Did he have to be so persistent?

  Jessie finished her wine and set the glass on the end table, realizing that her tension over this had been helped somewhat by the liquor. It hadn’t, however, given her another way out.

  Before she could answer his question, though, Flint said, “It was Sunday night, wasn’t it? Too much? Did I scare you?”

  Jessie grimaced and shook her head. “That’s kind of the problem,” she said quietly.

  “That I didn’t scare you?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “Sort of…”

  He leaned far forward and around her to put his now-empty wineglass on the end table with hers. As he straightened up he drew his hand from her hip along the side of her thigh, to perch on her knee, leaving a ribbon of something glittery along the way.

  She tried to ignore it but that was difficult when that glittery sensation seemed to scatter all through her.

  “Why would my not scaring you be a problem?” he asked. But then, again before she had found an explanation, light seemed to dawn in him. “Oh, I know. You’re feeling guilty about this—” he waggled a finger from her knee to make a motion between them. But he didn’t remove his hand, instead he squeezed her knee when the waggle was over.

  “Did you think,” he said then, “that if you stayed away, went back to the status quo, there wouldn’t be anything to be mixed up or feel guilty about? An out-of-sight-out-of-mind deal?”

  “Pretty much,” she admitted.

  “Did it work?”

  Jessie whispered, “No.”

  He leaned just slightly forward again and confided in return, “Well, because I couldn’t get you out of my mind, I’m sure glad.”

  It didn’t help anything to know that. In fact, as she looked into his eyes she thought she saw a vulnerability in them that hadn’t been there when he’d been talking about his ex-wife. That quelled her fears that she couldn’t compete with the other woman, the other women he might have known. But it also made that internal glitter sparkle all the brighter and caused goose bumps to erupt along the surface of her skin, making that element impossible to ignore.

  Then he straightened away from her, raised his eyebrows at her again, loosened his grip on her knee and said, “Unless you’d rather I get out of here, leave you alone and let you keep working on it…”

  She knew that if she said the word that was exactly what he would do. Leave. Leave her alone. That that would be the end.

  But suddenly all the things her mother had said about getting her feet wet with a man again, about making the most of the time she had with Flint—knowing full well that there wasn’t any forever in it—rang in her ears.

  That, and the fact that she could no more have made herself tell him to leave right at that moment than she could have sprouted wings and flown made her decision for her.

  “No, I don’t want you to go,” she admitted.

  “Because now I don’t mix you up?”

  “You’re still mixing me up pretty much.”

  “But?”

  “My mom said it was okay,” she joked.

  That made him laugh. “Thank you, Jeannie,” he said as if her mother were there with them.

  Then the humor seemed to dissipate and he studied her face as if he needed a moment to drink in the sight of her all over again.

  “I’ve missed you,” he told her quietly.

  It had felt like that to her, too, but she didn’t want to admit it.

  Then before she needed to, Flint put his other hand on the side of her face, tipped it upward and touched his lips to hers.

  She couldn’t explain it, but there was something meaningful in that kiss. Something that reconnected them after those three interminable days apart. And being with him wasn’t only easy—the way she’d told her mother it was—this was more than easy, it felt as natural, as right as if it were fated.

  And oh, but it was a kiss that Jessie had been starving for!

  So when Flint’s lips parted, hers did, too. When his tongue came to greet hers, it was a greeting she welcomed and eagerly answered. And when his free arm pulled her closer, her arms went around him and she did her part in bringing them together in order for her taut nipples to press to his chest.

  He wasn’t Pete. And yet Jessie had a sense of coming home that she also couldn’t fathom. But there it was and she was very aware of fitting within the circle of Flint’s arm, fitting against his big body, as perfectly as if she were made to be there.

  His mouth opened wider over hers, deepening that kiss and injecting another level of intimacy into it as his tongue toyed more seriously with hers, as his hand at her knee began a steady climb.

  When he encountered the hem of her dress she expected him to go underneath it. But instead he jumped over it and used that hand to release the clip that held her hair, to run his fingers through the waves.

  It was reflex that brought one of Jessie’s hands around to his chest then, mimicking what she wanted of him without any forethought, realizing what she was doing only when her hand stroked his chest.

  But maybe Flint took it as a clue because he drew his hand from her hair and let it glide down the column of her neck to rest on her shoulder, to rub and knead and massage that.

  Her breasts were straining against him, crying out for his attention, for that touch that she’d regretted robbing herself of for the last three days.

  Maybe it was thinking about that frustration, that unquenched yearning that sent her hand from his chest to return to his back where she delicately dug her fingers into that T-shirt that hugged his body more closely than she ever could.

  But then it occurred to her that she didn’t have to mind the rules. That she could merely slip her hands underneath it.

  Which was what she did—inching, massaging a path down the ever-narrowing vee of his back to pull the T-shirt from the confines of his jeans and snake her way underneath it just as she’d imagined, just as she wanted him to do with her dress…

  Warm satin-over-steel—that was what his skin felt like. Honed muscles, tight tendons, sinews all rolled and rippled beneath her touch as he did some massages of his own—of her back, too, of her shoulder still, then of her upper arm.

  And all while his mouth went on tasting hers, plundering and playing and building an ever-growing hunger in her that made her wriggle just a little for want of more.

  It might have been that tiny wriggle. Or it might have been the diamond-hard crests of her breasts poking through her dress that relayed the message, but after one last pulse of her arm, his hand went to her ribcage where it paused a moment before he brought it the rest of the way around front.

  And again there was a perfect fit as her breast nestled within his palm, offering just enough for his adept fingers to grasp and mold and work like warm clay.

  But as with his shirt, what had seemed like too little covering for her when he’d first arrived, seemed like a brick wall between them now, and she craved the feel of his bare hand on her naked flesh, too.

  Except that in thinking that it also occurred to her that there wasn’t much to the dress. And she had next to nothing on under it. For him to get to her meant that she would be practically nude. And if that happened…

  If that happened there would be no turning back and she knew it. So she knew she had to be sure before she relayed any more messages.

  But she was sure, she realized when no alarms sounded in her brain to stop her. When it took an act of will to recall what had kept her from this on Sunday night.

  Because what had kept her from this on Sunday night had been the thought of Ella, of her kids. And tonight it came to her that this wasn’t about her kids. This wasn’t about her being a mother at all. That the same way
she’d longed for Flint for the last three days, the same way she’d dreamed of him, thought about him separate from anything that had had to do with anyone else, this was about Flint alone. And her. And wanting him. Wanting this. Here and now and no matter what kind of limits there were on what was to come.

  This was just for her.

  A bold thrust of her tongue exerted her newfound sense of herself before she tore her mouth from his long enough to pull off his shirt, wanting him to know that she was in this for real tonight.

  “Jessie…” he said in a cautionary tone.

  It just made her grin. “Flint,” she countered brazenly.

  “There’s a point of no return…” he warned.

  “And I’m already past it,” she informed, making him laugh.

  Still, he said, “Seriously?”

  But her only answer was to take his mouth with hers and unfasten the button on the waistband of his jeans.

  A low, guttural sound rumbled from his throat, and Jessie somehow knew that was yet another warning to her that he was going to take her up on this if she didn’t back out now.

  But she wanted it too much, she wanted him too much, and she didn’t have any intention of leaving either of them in the state she’d left them in on Sunday.

  And when she sent a coy tongue to convey that, it was like pushing the On button in Flint.

  His mouth, his tongue went wild and unleashed. His hand didn’t hesitate to slide under her skirt, to pull it all the way up with him when he rediscovered her breast without the barrier of clothes. And when he retook her breast it was in a deliciously unyielding grasp, squeezing, kneading, proving to her that he was capable of an artistry all his own.

  But it wasn’t only his hand she wanted there. And it wasn’t the only part of her body that cried out for his touch.

  Her hands were on his bulging biceps and she moved them both to his pectorals now, spending only a moment there before she began a descent that trailed down his rock-hard abdomen to find the zipper of his jeans.

  And the long hard proof of just how much he wanted her.

  So much that it was a little daunting. But so, so exciting, too, that she couldn’t resist slipping just one hand inside to that hot, hard shaft.

  The moan that came from him then was pure pleasure. Her dress came up and over and off in one fast swipe, leaving her in nothing but her panties when he laid her back onto the sofa, when he made quick work of shedding the rest of his clothes as if he needed to break free of chains.

  And if what she’d found moments earlier with her hand had been impressive, it was nothing compared to the sight of him in all his magnificent, masculine glory.

  He joined her on the couch then, straddling her calves to remove her panties before he laid down with her, partially beside her, partially over her.

  One wondrous hand went with his mouth to her breasts, savoring, devouring, reveling in them while tongue and teeth set off a whole wealth of new desires in her.

  Desires that raised one of her legs over his as her hands delved into his hair to hold him to the mounting needs he was building within her.

  Needs that only grew more demanding when his hand went from her breast, down her belly, to slip between her legs as he drew her breast fully into the wet velvet of his mouth.

  It was Jessie’s turn to moan—a soft, breathy sound as he found even more ways to please and arouse her. Almost too many ways because she was rapidly losing control.

  Again she reached for him, wanting nothing more than to have him inside of her.

  But just when that was all she could think about, he slid away, out of her grip.

  Protection…

  Luckily he’d remembered what she’d been too enraptured to even think about. And just as luckily he was quick about applying it before he was there again, with her, over her, her legs straddling his hips now.

  His hands were on either side of her head and he dropped enough to kiss her again, a kiss that was so much more than merely that as he lowered his hips to hers and eased himself inside of her as smoothly as if he’d been fashioned for that purpose alone.

  And it felt so, so good that her breath caught in her throat as he began to move—slowly at first, easing in and out, teaching her body the feel of him, the way to embrace him, to close around him and accept him.

  Then he picked up speed and with measured strokes carried her along, taught her the rhythm, the beat, the motion that best met and matched him.

  Faster still, powerful thighs propelled him, pushed him and drew him away again, as hers curled around him and held on, moving with him, holding him tight.

  Even faster yet, he came into her and out again, taking her closer and closer to a peak that seemed almost unattainable until she actually did reach it, until he took her all the way there and set loose in her something so incredibly glorious that she could only cling to him, arching her spine off the sofa cushions, pulling him to her until she felt him achieve that same peak.

  He plunged so deeply into her that she found a second, even greater height of pleasure, of ecstasy that picked her up and let her ride that additional crest all the way through his, finally, finally leaving them both satiated and spent at once.

  Collapsing with bodies melded together, arms and legs entwined, Flint’s face was turned into the side of hers while they both caught their breath.

  Then he kissed her temple and said, “Maybe you should have warned me that under the surface you have a little bit of a wild streak waiting to come out.”

  Jessie couldn’t help smiling at the thought that she’d managed to amaze him. Even just a little.

  “Too much for you?” she teased.

  His laugh was ragged and sexy. “I don’t know. I might need another taste to tell.”

  “Really?”

  She hadn’t meant that to sound so hopeful but it made him laugh again. “Please don’t tell me that surprises you.”

  It had. She just wasn’t too sure why. Except maybe that because she hadn’t thought beyond this once she didn’t have a concept of anything more. Anything like Flint wanting more.

  And it was such a nice thought…

  He rolled to lie beside her then, although at least half of him was still molded to her and his thigh and arm were blissful weights keeping her close.

  “Give me about half an hour’s rest,” he requested, placing a second kiss to her temple, his voice slow and thick enough to let her know he was drifting off even as he spoke.

  Jessie merely smiled and closed her own eyes as three nights of sleeplessness caught up with her, too.

  And as she drifted off herself there was just a moment when she wondered why it was that falling asleep in his arms felt like the one place she was meant to be.

  But she told herself it was just an illusion of exhaustion and merely let herself have that feeling the same way she’d let herself have Flint.

  Knowing it was only for now.

  Chapter Twelve

  Flint counted the eight days—and nights—that followed in Jessie’s studio as his best. With his Uncle William’s wedding ten days away, even before that night, he’d decided to stay in Red Rock until after the wedding. And even before that night, Jessie had had more to do with that decision than anything else.

  But never had he expected that time to pass the way it did.

  Days were spent much as they had been prior to that night—he went on helping his brother by lending a hand painting the outside of Coop’s house and building a shed in the backyard—and he did some of his own work using his up-and-running website and getting the feel for how that was going to affect his business.

  During the days, he saw Jessie here and there, and they had another rock-hunting outing with the kids plus a field trip with them to San Antonio for shopping, an animated movie and dinner. There was also a Fortune family picnic that Jessie and her family were included in, and so he got to have that day with her as well.

  But the nights?

  Flint lived for
those.

  After that first one in the studio, after they’d left it just before dawn to go their separate ways so no one would know they hadn’t been in their respective beds as usual, they’d let everyone know that Flint had found buyers for Jessie’s sculptures. From then on that gave them the excuse of meeting in the studio each and every night after the kids were asleep.

  It wasn’t a lie that they were working together to come up with a logo for Jessie, that they were attaching the printed logos to the sculptures, that they were organizing and packaging the sculptures and getting them ready for shipment. They did use the first hour or two of those nights doing just that.

  But when that work was finished?

  The remaining hours of each and every one of those nights ended up being spent the way Wednesday night had been spent—except that they made love not only on the sofa but in the bed, on the floor, on the table and countertop, in a chair, in the shower, almost everywhere they happened to be when keeping their hands to themselves suddenly became too much to bear.

  But when William and Lily’s wedding was a mere two days away, when the subject of Flint going home began to come up again and again with everyone except Jessie, Flint suddenly found himself in one hell of a funk.

  He tried to tell himself that it was a result of how nice it was to finally feel a part of the Fortune family. That that made facing going back to Denver, to the way things had been before less than appealing. He tried to tell himself that the reason he wasn’t looking forward to leaving was that it was nice to have his cousins, his uncle, his brothers and sister nearby, to see them whenever he wanted, to have them drop in, to have impromptu lunches with them, with the Mendozas, at Red.

  And it all made sense. The new connection he’d made with his family, with the Mendozas, with the Red Rock community was nice, so the thought of separating himself from it and going back to Denver where he had busy friends and acquaintances but no one close understandably didn’t seem like such a good thing now.

  But in spite of all that? Underneath it? He knew that the bigger reason he didn’t want to leave Red Rock was Jessie.