Fortune's Cinderella (19 page)

When Marcos said, “Scott Fortune’s here, he wants to say hi,” Scott stepped closer to the bed. Picking up on the obvious cue, Scott told Javier about his decision to move to Red Rock, the ranch that would soon be his, how much he was looking forward to being a real part of the community.

Once back on the road to Red Rock, Marcos glanced over Scott with a half smile. “Thanks. For talking to Javier like that.”

“No problem.”

“Not for you, maybe. For other people…they forget that just because he can’t outwardly respond, it doesn’t mean he’s not aware.

Nobody knows how much he’s taking in, obviously, but Dr. Cuthbert told us how important it is to keep the atmosphere positive, to not talk negatively about him when we’re in the room, or act like he’s not even there. And that sensory stimulation helps—the music, touching, reading to him, even favorite smells. It all helps keep him connected. We hope, anyway.”

“I’m sure it does.”

They chatted about Scott’s plans for the ranch for the rest of the ride, until they pulled into Marcos’s driveway alongside Wendy’s car. Having finally turned in the rental when he flew back to Atlanta, Scott followed his brother-in-law into his house long enough to dump his bag, give Wendy a hug and ask if he could borrow the prized vintage Mustang she’d had driven out to Texas.

“Keys are in my purse. I take it everything went okay with Dad?” she said, slowly following him back to the front door.

“As well as could be expected.” The keys retrieved, he bent over to give her a quick kiss on the top of her head. “And I promise to tell you all about it later.”

Her arms like chicken wings as she supported her lower back, Wendy grinned. “Don’t hurry back on my account.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, her laughter following him all the way out to her car.

He might have said, “Hi.” Maybe even, “I’m back.” Christina didn’t remember. Or care, frankly.

Not that she’d planned on locking lips with the man the second she opened her door. Nor was she sure who had launched him/herself at whom. But now, ten, fifteen seconds into the kiss, all she knew was she could no more not have kissed him right then than she could have flown.

Although come to think of it, she was flying pretty darn high right now, wasn’t she?

Their mouths still joined, she vaguely heard the slam of her front door as Scott kicked it shut, Gumbo’s whine of concern, then her back was against the wall, her hands held over her head as Scott sweetly assaulted her mouth with more passion—and talent, it should be noted—than she’d ever experienced. And her entire body egged her on, as well as her heart, scurrying along behind and whispering, Me, too, me, too, me, too.

Or maybe her heart was in the lead, it was kinda hard to tell what with all the sighing and gasping and the idiot dog hopping around as if he wanted to get in on the act.

Finally Scott backed away and looked at her. And smiled. And her heart whispered, Would I lie to you?

Just like the serpent chatting with Eve, yep.

But Scott was fingering her hair and grinning like nobody’s business, and thinking was kinda not her top priority, right at the moment. “I like it,” he said, and she clicked in enough to remember she’d more or less given the stylist at the spa free rein.

Christina combed one hand through the shorter, highlighted layers feathering around her neck and shoulders, the weightless bangs which made her eyes look enormous, exactly as the stylist had promised. “Good thing, since you paid for it.”

“But do you like it?”

“Me? I love it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” He kissed her again, light and breezy, then grabbed her hand, dangling a set of keys in front of her with the other.

House keys.

“It’s yours?”

“Every square inch of it.” Scott’s hand found her waist, tugging her close. “How ’bout a tour?”

Anticipation sizzled in the pit of her stomach. And not only about seeing the house, she thought as the sizzle meandered to points north and south and pretty much everywhere in between. And you know what? Maybe it was time to give in to the sizzle. To simply enjoy the moment. Because for darn sure she didn’t have a whole lot of moments like these.

Sorry, Mama, she thought, even though she wasn’t.

“I suppose I could fit it into my schedule.”

Scott kissed her nose. Then her lips. Then, briefly, her neck. Right under her earlobe. Yeah. There. “I hoped you might. C’mon, boy—”

“Um…how’s about we leave the dog home this time?”

Scott’s eyes swung to hers, dark and curious, like those of a man wondering if he’d heard right. “You sure?”

“Very,” she said.

Even though she wasn’t at all.

“Good Lord,” Christina said when they finally wound up back in the spacious, slate-floored family room off the cook’s paradise of a kitchen. “You need a GPS system just to find a bathroom!” Her brow furrowed, she glanced up at the enormous buck’s head mounted over the stone fireplace, shuddered, then clomped to one of the two leather sofas facing each other and collapsed into it.

“So what do you think?” Scott grabbed a suede pillow off the other end to cushion her foot when she lifted it onto the square, also Texas-sized, inlaid coffee table between the sofas, then sat beside her, plunking his feet up on the table, too.

On what sounded like a weary laugh, she faced him, her newly lightened hair fanning over the caramel-colored leather behind her head. The woman looked better in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt than most women sporting a thousand bucks’ worth of designer fashion. No lie.

“It’s real pretty and all, but criminy, Scott—this room alone is twice the size of my whole apartment. I do realize you’re used to living in places a bit bigger than that, but doesn’t this feel a little…over the top? Even for you?”

His arms crossed over his chest, Scott contemplated his Italian loafers for several seconds. “For one person, you mean?” he said at last.“Well, yeah. Unless you’re plannin’ on having the horses live in here with you.”

Laughing, he unfolded his arms to slip one behind Christina’s shoulders and pull her close. She didn’t resist. “One thing you need to know about me—I never do, or buy, anything without considering its investment potential.” Massaging her shoulder through the soft fabric, he laid his cheek on her head. “How much something will increase in value over the years.”

“You mean…like if you wanted to sell it at some point down the road?”

“In some cases, yes. But not in this one.”

She lifted her eyes. “I don’t understa—”

He caught her mouth with his, a little “Yes!” sounding in his brain—and other places—when she immediately softened, opening to him, her tongue meeting his in a playful dance that he found exceptionally…encouraging. But when he broke the kiss, her eyes still searched his, rife with questions.

“This is an investment in my future,” he said softly, stroking her cheek. “And I hope…an investment in ours.”

“Ours. As in…you and me?”

“And Gumbo, if he’s up for it.”

“Don’t make jokes, Scott, don’t…” She pulled out of his arms, floundering about in an attempt to get up.

“I’m dead serious, Christina. I always have been. And if you don’t believe me—” he fumbled a bit himself, pulling the ring box out of his shirt pocket “—believe this.”

She gawked at the aqua velvet box in his hand as though it were about to blow up in her face, then turned the gawking on him.

“You are insane.”

And it probably was crazy, to make this kind of commitment, this soon. Even crazier to ask her for one. But his entire life he’d deferred to logic, to common sense and reason and doing things the “right” way and none of them had ever made him feel one-tenth of what he felt when he looked into Christina’s eyes. So he flipped open the box, anyway, to reveal the ring, a modest emerald-cut sapphire flanked with diamond baguettes.

“You said you liked blue,” he said.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she said, laughing a little, and he felt the anxiety unfist inside him.

Her smile faded, though, as she shook her head. “You’d really put your heart on the line like that for me?”

Scott glanced down at the ring, still in his hand. “I think I already have.” When she hmmphed out another soft laugh, he said,

“Look…if you’re not ready to think of this as an engagement ring, then don’t. I completely understand. But I couldn’t think of another way to show you I’m not flirting, I’m not teasing…and for damn sure I don’t see you as some sort of ‘project.’ I want to share this house, my life, with you. I love you,” he said softly into her I-don’t-believe-I’m-hearing-this eyes. “And I promise I’ll wait as long as it takes to close the deal.”

On a cross between a huff and a groan, Christina finally got to her feet and stiffly walked to the picture window overlooking the sweeping lawn and one of the ponds beyond. “Is that what I am to you? A deal?”

Yearning bled through her words, gave the lie to her defensive posture. Scott came up behind her to wrap her up in his arms. “The best damn deal I’ve ever run across,” he whispered into her ear, feeling her rapid pulse compete with his. “And the only one I’ve ever truly cared whether I landed or not.”

Gently, he twisted her around to face him, his fingers winnowing through her hair to cradle the back of her neck, their mouths so close he could feel her breath, coming in short, sweet bursts. “And if you can’t trust your intuition, trust mine. Because it’s never been wrong yet.”

Never in her life had she wanted to believe so badly. To let herself fall into the promise in those warm brown eyes. If this is a dream, Christina thought, I don’t want to wake up. Ever.

But nobody knew better than she did that wanting wasn’t enough to change what was. And that trusting had gotten her into trouble before. In other words, eventually she’d wake up. And so would Scott, she wagered.

Only, when she did, she didn’t want it to be one of those frustrating dreams that comes to a screeching halt right before the good stuff happens. And anyway, if she initiated it, she was in control, right?

So she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, deep and openmouthed and with what she hoped was clear intent, melding her body with his until she felt his unmistakable response against her belly, dimly remembered sensation though that was.

His hands found their way to her shoulders, gently setting her apart as hope and caution tumbled in his eyes. “Just so we’re clear…?”

Christina blew out a breath. “You want to talk deals? Here’s mine. I want to make love to you so badly I can barely think straight.” When his brows shot up, she added, “But it has to be on my terms. Meaning…no promises. And I know that’s not fair to you—”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” he said with a lopsided grin, slipping his hands around her waist and yanking her so close you couldn’t’ve slipped a credit card between them. Then he kissed her again, all slow and sweet, at which point she realized that staying in control was a pipe dream. He swept her into his arms and carted her off upstairs into the master bedroom, all done up in shades of green, or maybe blues—she wasn’t exactly focused on the décor at the moment—and set her on the bed.

“Don’t look up,” he said, and of course she did, to find a great horned animal of some sort looming over the bed. “Told you not to look,” Scott said when she shrieked out a laugh, then lowered her eyes to discover he was nekkid.

She couldn’t move. Or speak, barely. Although she did manage to get out, “I don’t know how frisky I can be, with this foot.”

And he said, “Not to worry, I can be frisky enough for the two of us.”

Man wasn’t just whistling Dixie. Whew.

Grinning, he started to undress her. Like he wasn’t in any hurry, certain evidence to the contrary. She felt like…like a much-looked-forward-to present being carefully unwrapped, a thought that made her giggle and brought tears to her eyes at the same time.

And when, after what felt like hours, there was nothing left between them but heated glances and dry-mouthed anticipation, he got down to serious business.

How is it I’ve lived without this? she idly wondered as Scott patiently—and, apparently, with no small delight—stoked fires she’d thought long gone cold, only to realize what she’d had before? No comparison. Still, she was in control, in charge, nothing was happening without her permission, her consent—

“Let go, sweetheart,” Scott commanded, thrilling her, even as she thought, on a gasp, Let go? Completely? Not on your life, a moment before she arched and tensed and screamed—wasn’t like anybody could hear her…and then—then!—he made her scream again.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she got out when her breathing finally slowed and her brain cells came out from hiding.

“I did,” Scott said, and then started up all over again with the kissing and the stroking and the feathery touches in—oh, sweet heaven!—exactly the right places until her eyes damn near crossed, and the phrase putty in his hands came to mind before he levered himself over her, capturing her gaze in his as if he could see right through to the other side. “How’s the foot?”

She sputtered a laugh. “What foot?”

He reached for a condom—and where had that come from, pray?—but she shook her head, kicking the sadness to the curb. “Not necessary, I’m safe.” Then she smiled. “You?”

He stroked her bangs off her forehead. “You trust me that much?”

And oh, dear Lord, did she. About this, anyway. “Yes. I do.” Then before she could shift underneath him, lift her good leg, he did it for her, sliding inside her, his gaze still welded to hers as he took charge. Took over.

And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Or, frankly, wanted to, at that moment, the surrender too sweet, too heady.

Until she linked her hands at the back of his neck and snaked her good leg around him, to hold him still when he tried to move.

“Not yet,” she whispered, her eyes closed. “I want to remember this forever.”

Chuckling, Scott nuzzled her neck and every nerve ending she possessed sighed with bliss. Traitors. “Not sure about forever, but I can maybe give you thirty seconds.”

“Deal,” she said, opening her eyes to nearly choke on the desire and hope and trust she saw in his. Once again, the fire kindled, and she caught her lip between her teeth as the first wave rolled through.