Fortune's Secret Daughter

by Barbara Mccauley

  At the touch of his hand on her arm, the opener slipped off the can. She’d been so busy rambling on, she hadn’t even heard him come up behind her.

  “I can manage from here.” He took the opener from her. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of other things to do besides taking care of me.”

  She did, but with him standing so close in her small kitchen, she couldn’t think of what even one of those things were. She watched him open the can and dump the soup into the pan she’d set on the stove, then turn on the flame underneath.

  “Bowls are in the cupboard to your right,” she said. “Silverware in the drawer to your left. There might even be some cookies in the pantry.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well, I’ve got to get back to work.” She started to back away and stumbled over a chair. He reached out a hand to steady her and once again it was difficult to think clearly.

  “Ah, television reception is decent, but I only get a couple of channels. If your head starts to bother you, there’s aspirin in the bathroom cabinet, or if you need a—”

  “Holly, I’m fine. Go.”

  “Right.” She headed for the door, paused. “Oh, I think there are cookies in the pantry, too.”

  He smiled. “You mentioned that. Thanks.”

  Darn it. She’d been around plenty of handsome, virile men and they never made her blush or stumble over her own feet or repeat herself. Guy Blackwolf was really starting to annoy her.

  “Holly?”

  Her hand was on the knob when she glanced over her shoulder and saw him watching her with those wolf eyes of his.

  “I think you should sleep in the bedroom tonight.”

  Her pulse quickened as she stared at him. Had she been so transparent in her attraction to him that he assumed she would just jump into bed with him? Narrowing her gaze, she said coolly, “Look, Blackwolf, just because you’re sort of a good-looking guy with a decent enough body doesn’t mean that every woman is just waiting around for an invitation to sleep with you. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  His brow rose. “I was just offering to take the sofa tonight,” he said with a grin. “But thanks anyway for the sort-of-almost compliment. I think.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Darn it, darn it. She’d done it again. Made a complete fool out of herself. “I just thought that you—I mean, I assumed that… Oh, never mind.”

  Quickly, before he could see the blush that was working its way up her neck, she hurried out the door, not quite certain if she was relieved or disappointed.

  “What do you mean, you’re leaving! You can’t leave me, not now. Do I mean nothing to you?”

  “You’re everything to me. That’s why I must leave. Don’t you see?”

  A bag of chocolate chip cookies in one hand, the remote in his other, Guy sat on the sofa and watched the only channel where he’d been able to find a semi-clear reception. After Holly had left earlier, he’d had a dizzy spell and been forced to lay low for a while. He’d tried to read, but the words had blurred, so he’d been left with the company of the TV.

  From what he’d been able to figure out so far, the soap opera, Storm’s Cove, took place in a small Seattle seaside community that was spilling over with sex and scandal. Guy had lived in Seattle for five years and was amazed that such lust and treachery existed right under his nose.

  At the moment, a blonde named Victoria had caught Gerald, the man she loved, packing a bag and getting ready to run out on her.

  “I see nothing,” Victoria wailed. “Only that you’re throwing our love away, as if I was nothing more to you than an old shoe.”

  “How can you say that?” Gerald cried. “You would never be an old shoe to me, Cynthia. Never. You know I love you.”

  “Lies! Lies! Everything’s been a lie. You came back from the dead to me and to Emily, the daughter you never knew you had, only to leave us again. How can I live if you go?”

  Gerald grabbed the blonde’s shoulders, his movie star face a mask of anguish. “Don’t say that, Victoria. Don’t ever say that. I’ll come back to you and Emily, I promise, but not until I find the person responsible for my brother’s death.”

  How could anyone watch this cornball stuff? he wondered as he took a healthy bite of another cookie. Jeez, get real. Who cared if the jerk left or not? And—

  Suddenly the room Gerald and Victoria had been standing in exploded, then burst into flames. Now we’re talking, Guy thought, settling back on the sofa. The scene cut away to a toilet bowl cleaner commercial. He shoved in two more cookies while waiting for the show to return, but only music and credits came back. He stared openmouthed at the TV. That’s how they were going to leave it? Just like that? With not even a hint of what happened to poor Victoria and Gerald?

  He figured that sort of cheap tactic brought the viewers back day after day, but he’d be damned if he’d let himself be manipulated that easily. It was just a TV show, for crying out loud. With actors reading their lines.

  Scowling, he turned the television off and wandered into the kitchen to put the cookies away.

  It was a cozy kitchen, he thought. Small, but tidy, with oak-stained cabinets and blue checked curtains on the window over the sink. Yellow ceramic canisters were lined up neatly on the white Formica countertop and a black-and-white hand-painted cutout of a cow hung on the wall beside the stove. He touched the miniature copper bell on the cow’s neck, and it tinkled softly.

  Flynn hadn’t told him much about Holly, Guy realized. He knew she was from Dallas, that she’d been raised only a hundred miles from where Guy’s family had lived. Like spitting to the corner, so the saying went. Yet here she was in Twin Pines, running her own business, working long hours. Saving pilots who crashed their planes in the lake, then taking them home to recuperate in her bed. Same old things that every other woman did on a daily basis.

  He’d never met a woman like her. Maybe he’d met some that were as beautiful, some that had a terrific body like hers, some that made him laugh like she did.

  But he’d never met a woman who was all those things, or one that constantly crept into his mind. One that made his pulse race with a look, his blood heat with a simple touch.

  He’d wanted to kiss her earlier. It surprised him just how much. Almost as much as it surprised him that he hadn’t. Sex was comfortable to him. If a man and woman were attracted to each other, then the rest was easy. He was certain that Holly was attracted to him, he’d seen it in the rush of emotions in her face when he’d held her hand, when he’d stood beside her at the stove.

  When he’d said she should sleep in the bed tonight.

  Remembering the surprise, then the indignation on her face, he couldn’t help but smile. She’d thought he meant sleep with him. The gaze she’d leveled at him could have formed icicles on molten lava. And still, even in her obvious irritation with him, there was also a response: the catch in her breath, the sparks of gold in her eyes, the soft flush on her cheeks. He recognized desire, had felt more than a tug of it himself toward the woman. Okay, a lot more than a tug, he conceded.

  Under normal circumstances, he would play the game, enjoy it. But this was different. He’d come here as a favor to a friend, to talk to Holly, not seduce her or sleep with her.

  And there was still that little issue of confessing why he was here, too. He had a strong feeling that she was going to feed him to the bears when she found out he hadn’t been completely honest with her. He knew he needed to tell her, but he just needed another day or two. He had nowhere else to go and until his plane was repaired, if it could be repaired, he was stuck here.

  And if he had to be stuck somewhere, this wasn’t such a bad place, he thought with a smile. He glanced around the comfortable apartment, thought about Holly coming home, the two of them spending the evening together. So maybe he couldn’t kiss her or seduce her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the company of a beautiful, desirable woman. Nothing wrong with that. And if they shared a little wine and conversation, there was nothing wrong with that,
either.

  He glanced at the clock on the stove. It was nearly six-thirty. He’d heard her mention that she closed the store at six, so she should be home any time now. Maybe she’d fuss over him some more, the way she had this afternoon. If she really wanted to, then he supposed he could tolerate it. Why not let her just—

  The front door flew open and Holly rushed in. He watched as she hurried toward him, a white paper sack in her hands.

  “I’m late,” she gasped, thrusting the bag at him.

  “For a very important date?” he teased.

  “Yes.” She spun and flew toward her bedroom.

  Yes?

  He stared at the bedroom door and barely had time to blink before she zipped across the hall into the bathroom. He heard the shower come on, but didn’t even have time to conjure up any wicked fantasies before it was off again. He heard her muttering, then the slam of the medicine cabinet.

  She really did have a date? As in, going out with a man?

  He furrowed his brow. Maybe it wasn’t a date date. Maybe it was a town meeting, or maybe she was going out with a girlfriend. Or she could be—

  The knock at the front door made his brow furrow deeper. When he opened the door, he was eye-to-eye with a dark-haired man who had arms the size of oak tree trunks. He wore a white shirt, dress jeans and black cowboy boots. He’d hooked a black Western-style black sport coat on one finger and slung it over his shoulder.

  Guy disliked him on sight.

  “You must be Guy Blackwolf.” The man’s smile was friendly, as was the hand he extended. “Keegan Bodine.”

  “Keegan.” Guy nodded, knew that he was acting stupid when he gripped the offered hand with more force than necessary, but couldn’t help feeling smug when the other man let loose first.

  “Holly told me about you,” Keegan said cheerfully. “How’s the head?”

  “Fine. Just fine,” he lied. His head was pounding like a Kodo drummer. “Ah, why don’t you come on in? I think Holly will be out in just a minute.”

  At the sound of a crash from the bathroom, followed by a muffled curse, both men turned their heads.

  “Well, maybe two minutes,” Guy corrected.

  “No sweat.”

  Keegan moved to the sofa and sank down on the cushions, rested his arm comfortably on the back of the couch. Guy was reminded of a German shepherd he had once had who would curl up on a foot rug at the back door. That was his spot and he knew it. Keegan had that look, Guy thought.

  “I know most of the regular pilots that bring in air deliveries to Twin Pines,” Keegan said. “I’ve never seen you before. How long have you been with Pelican?”

  A simple question, asked casually. But behind the man’s laid-back demeanor and easy smile, Guy recognized the suspicion, the mistrust. Hell, he’d feel the same way if the situation was reversed. What he couldn’t read was exactly what Keegan and Holly’s relationship was. Lovers? He didn’t think so. Friends? Yes, but maybe more?

  Whatever it was, Guy certainly intended to find out.

  “Actually, I don’t work for Pelican,” Guy said carefully. “Sometimes I trade jobs with one of the guys there. When I heard you’ve got trout the size of ponies in that lake of yours, I thought I might take a few days and do some fishing.”

  “We’ve got some decent rainbow.” Keegan stretched out one long leg and grinned. “And an occasional pilot who drops out of the sky.”

  To anyone listening, the conversation would just sound like social chitchat. But Guy knew better. The real question was: So who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in Holly’s apartment?

  “I could use a good pilot with a seaplane to make runs for my company. Mostly to the larger lakes in the inner regions that are hard to reach,” Keegan said. “You interested?”

  Guy knew perfectly well that Keegan wasn’t offering work. What the other man wanted to know was, “When are you leaving and have you got any plans on coming back?” And though he wasn’t interested, Guy couldn’t resist ruffling the other man’s feathers. “Maybe. What’s your company?”

  “Outback Excursions. Mostly tourist stuff, an occasional nature photographer or wildlife research program group.”

  “I’ll let you—”

  “Sorry I took so long.”

  Guy turned at the sound of Holly’s voice. And forgot to breathe.

  She wore a sleeveless dress the color of lilacs. Long and flowing, scooped at the neck, with front buttons that ended just above her knee. When she moved, the fabric parted just enough to show the curve of her slender calves. Her sandals were white and strappy, her toes painted pretty pink. He’d thought she was sexy in her jeans and boots and casual T-shirts. But dressed like this, soft and feminine, with her hair flowing around her smooth shoulders and her lips brushed rosy pink, it was enough to bring a man to his knees.

  Keegan seemed surprised, as well. He’d risen from the sofa and the look of utter male approval on his face annoyed the hell out of Guy. He knew it shouldn’t. What right did he have to feelings of…what? Jealousy? He ground his teeth at the word. He wasn’t a jealous kind of guy. At least, he never had been. But with Holly it felt different. He felt protective. And maybe a little possessive, too. After all, she’d saved his life. That was certainly a reason to feel a connection with her, a bond.

  That and the fact that he’d come here to help her, to unite her with her family. And not just any family, but the Fortunes. One of the wealthiest, most powerful families in Texas. There were some people who might take advantage of her if they knew that one day she might inherit some of that money.

  “Thanks, Guy, for keeping Keegan company.” Holly reached for her purse on the table beside the sofa. “I’m glad you two got a chance to talk.”

  “My pleasure.” Guy glanced at Keegan, who met his steady gaze. There was still indecision in the other man’s eyes, doubt, and in spite of himself, Guy couldn’t help but feel pleased.

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” Keegan said with a grin, and Guy knew Keegan wasn’t referring to their conversation, but to Holly.

  Was she his? Guy wondered, still not certain, irritated that it mattered so much to him.

  “I’ll try not to wake you if I’m late.” Holly opened a small coat closet just inside the front door. She pulled on a little white sweater and slipped it on. “If you need anything, just help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

  “Thanks.” He looked at Keegan and smiled. “I’ll do that.”

  Keegan arched a brow, then placed a hand on Holly’s back. “You ready?”

  After they left, Guy stared at the closed door. So much for a quiet evening with a beautiful woman, he thought with a frown.

  He glanced at the bag that Holly had given him when she’d come home, realized he’d been holding it the entire time. Inside was a double-double hamburger and fries.

  Except for the chocolate shake, exactly what he’d been dreaming about earlier in the day.

  Help yourself to whatever you like.

  He looked back at the door, thought about the curves her lilac dress had displayed, wondered what those curves would feel like underneath him without that dress. Wondered what she would taste like…

  And since he couldn’t help himself to what he really wanted, he went into the kitchen to eat his dinner alone.

  Four

  Holly smelled pizza when she opened the door to her apartment just before midnight. She paused, breathed the fragrant scent deep into her lungs. Pepperoni, if her nose served her right. Like a moth to the flame, she followed the delicious aroma into the kitchen. The box sat on the table in front of Guy, who currently had a hot game of solitaire going on. He had an unlit cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth and a baseball cap turned backward on his head.

  “Cinderella returns with mere minutes to spare.” He glanced up at her, counted out three more cards and flipped them over. “Where’s Prince Charmin—I mean Charming? Still at the ball?”

  “It was a birthday party for Alexis, hi
s younger sister, if you must know.” She tossed her purse on the table and sat down. “He would have come in and said hello, but he’s leading a three-day survival excursion into Devil’s Canyon in the morning for a group of six. He sends his regards. Said he’d take you out on the lake when he got back.”

  “Fishing?” He took the cigar out of his mouth and looked at her skeptically.

  “Something like that.” What Keegan had actually said was that he’d like to use Guy for bait. But she didn’t think it was a good idea to mention that. She’d sensed enough tension between the two men as it was. She nodded at the cards in front of him. “Who’s winning?”

  He looked insulted she’d even asked. “Five-two, my lead.”

  She arched a brow. “Impressive.”

  “So the women tell me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You should see me play the Captain Blaster video game. I would dazzle you.”

  “Blackwolf, I’m beginning to understand why you’re a pilot. You’re so full of hot air, your feet won’t stay on the ground.” She slipped off her sandals and leaned back in her chair. “So tell me. Why are you a pilot?”

  He shrugged, laid the six of spades on the seven of hearts. “I grew up behind a small airstrip. I’d watch those two-seater planes take off, and I’d wonder where they were going. How high, how far. I wanted to know what it felt like to lift up off the ground and be up in the clouds, to be in control of a machine that defied the laws of nature. I used to pedal my bike over after school and weekends and hang around, pester the pilots with questions about planes and flying.”

  “And they took you under their wing?” she teased.

  He smiled, moved a pile of cards on top of the jack of diamonds. “Only after they found out that they couldn’t get rid of me. I had my first lesson at eighteen and my license at twenty. And the rest, as they say, is navigational history. Ta-dah—” he moved three cards and completed every pile, then looked up at her and grinned “—I win again. Are you dazzled yet?”