But now that she did allow herself to notice something, she saw that rather than heading toward town the way she’d assumed he’d go, the stranger was letting his horse go in what appeared to be the opposite direction.
They were heading in the direction that she had originally been going before she’d been so ignobly run off the road.
“No,” Marnie heard the stranger agree offhandedly, “it’s not.”
Everything inside her immediately tensed and went on high alert.
Was he kidnapping her?
What other explanation was there? He hadn’t asked her for directions regarding her initial destination and he didn’t appear to be directionally challenged. He had to be abducting her.
“They’ll come looking for me,” she warned him. “If I don’t turn up, they’ll come looking for me,” she repeated, doing her best not to sound as if she was panicking inside.
Which she was.
“Who?” Asher asked mildly.
His deep voice felt as if it was actually rumbling against her hands and along her arms as she continued to hold on to him. She really didn’t want to hold on to him, but at this point, she had no choice. It was either hold on or fall off.
“The people I was going to meet until you ran me off the road,” Marnie snapped, doing her best to sound unafraid. Inside, however, she was shaking—and this time, it wasn’t from anger.
“Where were you going?” Asher asked, half turning his head so that she could hear him more clearly. The wind had picked up and his words were in danger of being blown away if he kept his face forward.
Marnie bit her lower lip. “I was on my way to help Wendy and Marcos Mendoza out. They’re catering some party for her cousins and they need help with their little girl. I told them I’d watch MaryAnne for them while they worked.” Her voice grew in volume and strength as she went on. “They know a lot of people, and those people are going to be combing the area looking for me, so if you know what’s good for you—”
He refrained from telling her that she’d just mentioned his cousins and the party they were catering was the one he’d just taken a respite from. Instead, he decided to play this out a little longer, curious as to how far she’d go with the dramatic scenario she’d just sketched.
“You smell good,” he observed as the scent she was wearing wafted toward him. The wind had shifted again. The scent was something musky and sensual.
Exceedingly sensual.
The woman was sending mixed signals, he thought. That gave her something in common with Lynn. Lynn had sent out mixed signals as well—for most of their relationship together. Either that or he was just no damn good at reading women.
Probably a little bit of both, he decided, attempting to comfort himself.
“What?” Marnie cried.
More alarms went off in her head. Maybe if she jumped off the horse now and made a run for it—
To where? her brain demanded. There was nowhere to go out here, no house to run to for at least several more miles.
That was the trouble with this place, she thought darkly. The wide-open spaces were just too wide, too open, at least at a time like this.
Don’t panic, she warned herself. It’s going to be all right. You’ll think of something. You’re not defenseless, you know....
“Your perfume,” Asher clarified, keeping his voice low. Despite her coming on like gangbusters, he had a feeling this woman spooked easily. He had absolutely no desire to frighten her. “It smells good.”
“Oh,” she murmured, momentarily feeling a little foolish.
Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe he actually did like the scent of her perfume. She was so accustomed to the scent she automatically put on in the morning that she not only didn’t think about it but she also didn’t detect it anymore. For her it just blended into the atmosphere around her, along with everything else.
All right, maybe if she dialed it down a little, sounded as calm as this stranger did, she could convince him to take her to town—or somewhere close by.
“What’s it called?” he was asking her.
Her mind elsewhere, she didn’t know what he was talking about. “What’s what called?”
“Your perfume.” Asher frowned. She sounded a little scattered to him. Maybe she had a concussion. If so, he needed to get her to a hospital. “You didn’t hit your head back there, did you?”
Marnie’s back was instantly up. She took his question to be criticism, not concern on his part.
“No, I didn’t hit my head,” she snapped at him. “I just didn’t expect to be talking about perfume in the middle of nowhere with a stranger who’d run me off the road.” Taking in a long breath in hopes of calming herself, she let it out again before answering his question. “It’s Lavender Dreams,” she told him, trying not to sound as if she was biting off the name.
Lynn had worn that, he realized. He’d bought her a bottle for her birthday. Except that it didn’t smell like the same scent. But then, didn’t that have something to do with mixing the perfume with a person’s own scent or chemical composition, or something like that?
At any rate, the bottom line was that he found this scent to be somewhat arousing, but in a good way. What it didn’t do was remind him of his ex.
“Just where are you taking me?” the woman suddenly demanded, although he had to admit that her voice sounded a great deal less combative this time than when she’d first challenged him.
“Home,” he told her again. Well, he’d take her to Wyatt’s, then head home. Promise or no promise, he was done partying for the night.
“Please,” he heard her saying. “Just let me down here.”
Was she really saying what he thought she was saying? “In the middle of nowhere?” he asked skeptically.
“I can walk,” she told him firmly.
Was she serious? “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He had to ask. The very thought really amused him. Nobody was afraid of him, least of all his son, who viewed him to actually be an overgrown playmate rather than an authority figure in his life.
Yes! I’m afraid of you! her brain shouted in response to his question. However, her sense of survival had her lobbing a question back into his court by asking, “Should I be?”
“No,” he told her simply.
“Then why are you taking me home?” she demanded with her very last available bit of bravado. The man was big and powerful, if that hard body was any indication. He could overwhelm her with one hand tied behind his back. And even if she made a break for it, she couldn’t outrun his horse.
How did she get him to let her go?
“Well, for one thing, there’s a working phone there,” he told her, then decided to let her off the hook. To play this out any further would just be plain cruel. “For another, you said you were on your way to meet my cousin Wendy, and she’s at the house.”
“Your cousin?” she asked in stunned disbelief. “Wendy Mendoza is your cousin?”
“Wendy Fortune Mendoza,” he amended. “And yes, she is.”
“You’re...” She paused for a second, trying to recall the name of the man whose house Wendy told her she and Marcos were bringing their food to. “Wyatt Fortune?” she asked.
“Asher,” he corrected. “I’m one of the other ones. There’re four of us out here. Wyatt, Sawyer, Shane and me.”
In the last year or so, more than a few Fortunes had transplanted themselves from Atlanta to Red Rock. Things had gone so well for the first invasion that a number of Fortune family members had followed, bought property and set up house, never looking back.
“You’re one of the Fortunes?” Marnie asked him in complete disbelief.
He pretended not to hear the skepticism in her voice. “I am.”
Oh no, it’s not going to be that easy, cow
boy. “How do I know you’re not just lying to me to get my guard down?” she challenged.
His identity was simple enough to prove. “My wallet’s in my back pocket,” he told her. “If you reach in and take it out, you can set your mind at ease by looking at my driver’s license.”
Marnie balked. No way was she about to physically touch this man any more than she already had to. That was just asking for trouble.
“I’m not reaching into your pocket,” she told him in no uncertain terms.
“Well, then, I guess you’re just going to have to take my word for it until we get to the house.”
Was she making another mistake? Marnie wondered nervously.
She felt her pulse rate accelerating again as she decided that she was going to have to take a look at that driver’s license in his wallet.
Marnie caught her lower lip between her teeth as she inserted two fingers into his back pocket in an attempt to extract his wallet. Her first attempt failed because, using two fingers as if she were picking up a rat by its tail, her grasp was weak.
Stifling a frustrated choice word, she attempted to fish his wallet out again.
Asher turned around in his saddle again. “Want me to stop riding for a minute?” he offered.
“No!” she cried. “Just keep going.”
Even though this so-called Asher Fortune might actually be taking her to his lair, she’d deal with that later. Right now she didn’t want him just suddenly stopping here. He might use it as an excuse to do who knew what to her.
Okay, he had another suggestion to make. “You might get a better grip on my wallet if you used more than just two fingers.”
She hated that she could almost hear him laughing at her. Rather than comment on his “advice,” she braced herself and followed it.
Teeth clenched—as if that somehow helped—she yanked the wallet out of his back pocket with as minimal contact with that part of his anatomy as possible. Just as she got the wallet out, it slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground.
“Damn,” she cried in frustration. They’d managed to put several yards between themselves and his wallet.
Without a word, Asher turned his horse and went back for the fallen object.
Stopping the animal, Asher began to reach for his wallet while still mounted, but he found his agility being impeded.
“You’re going to have to let go of me,” he told his reluctant riding companion.
Why the request brought a heated blush to her cheeks that instantly traveled up to the very roots of her hair, she had no idea. But she could definitely feel the path it took, and she was really grateful that there was next to no moonlight.
Biting back a very choice retort that was hovering on the tip of her tongue, she pulled her arms away from his upper torso as if that part of his body had suddenly caught on fire.
“Better,” he told her glibly, then amended, “Or, at least, I can get the wallet this way.”
His grin felt as if it had been fired directly into her chest. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this unsettled. She had a feeling that he somehow knew it and was enjoying himself immensely.
“But on second thought, it definitely doesn’t qualify as ‘better,’” he told her.
She couldn’t think of a single comeback to put him in his place.
And then, right before her eyes, she watched him shift in his saddle and dip all the way down from his perch to reach down on the ground. His fingers barely made contact with the wallet. Even so, he managed to scoop it up.
Like a metal tape measure rewinding itself, Asher pulled himself back into an upright position in his saddle. Marnie couldn’t tear her eyes away. Though she hated to admit it, she was utterly impressed. Not many men were that flexible, she couldn’t help thinking.
“Wow.”
The word slipped out before she could think to stop it.
Wallet still in his hand, Asher turned and handed it to her. He figured she’d still want to verify his identity.
“Was that a compliment?” he asked, referring to the single word she’d uttered.
Rather than confirm or deny his question, she merely said, “I expected you to fall off your horse.”
“Then I guess that’s the sound of disappointment in your voice,” he surmised.
What was he implying? That she liked seeing people get hurt? “I’m not a sadist,” Marnie protested, annoyed at the way this man seemed to twist everything she said around.
Asher nodded at her protest. “Good to know,” he answered cheerfully. They were still standing by the side of the road. He nodded at the wallet he’d just handed her. “You want to check out my identity so we can be on our way?” he suggested.
She didn’t like being told what to do by someone, no matter how softly worded the order was. But since she was still holding his black leather wallet in her hand, Marnie grudgingly flipped it open and found herself looking down at his driver’s license.
“It’s not exactly a flattering picture,” Asher conceded, “but you can see that it is my picture.” He pointed to the name. “Asher Fortune. Feel better?” he asked.
Actually, she did, but she also felt foolish, and that didn’t sit well with her. “For all I know, this is a fake. You could have picked that up at your handy, nearby forger’s office.”
The woman certainly did have an overactive imagination, he thought. If this was an example of what his new neighbors were like, maybe attending the party wasn’t going to be half bad.
“I could have,” he conceded. “But I didn’t.”
He said it with such simple sincerity she was tempted to believe him.
But then, she reminded herself, there were countless women lying buried in shallow graves who’d made that sort of mistake, believing the wrong man. And, given that she was all alone out here, she really couldn’t afford to be too trusting.
He heard her stifle a sigh and guessed at the reason for it. “What can I do to convince you I am who I say I am?”
That was simple enough. “I’ll believe you if Wendy vouches for you.”
No problem there, he thought. “All right, then, we’re on the same page,” he said. “Since I’m bringing you to her.”
Marnie chewed on her lower lip again. She still wasn’t sure she should believe him, but then, he did sound pretty sincere. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to relax just a tad.
“Besides, if my intent was to ‘have my way with you,’” he said, being deliberately delicate, “I would have done something by now. This isn’t exactly the hub of activity out here,” he pointed out, adding, “It looks like a person could be out here for days without running into anything that walked upright.”
Much as she hated to admit it, the man calling himself Asher Fortune had a point, she thought grudgingly.
Marnie blew out a breath, mentally bracing herself and really hoping she wasn’t going to live to regret this. If she lived, of course. “All right, take me to your place.”
For the second time in less than half an hour, Asher kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks, urging the animal on. He flashed her a grin as they galloped off. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She fervently prayed that the strange, agitated feeling she was experiencing in the pit of her stomach was just due to a case of strange motion sickness arising from the fact that she was bumping along on the back of a horse—and nothing more.
Chapter Three
Fifteen minutes later, Asher brought his horse to a stop several yards from his brother’s house.
A great many more guests had arrived in the time he’d been gone. From the looks of it, there were more vehicles parked around Wyatt’s house than could probably be found on the lot of a standard car dealership during a regular business day.
The second he stopped, Mar
nie announced, “I can take it from here.”
The next thing Asher knew, his reluctant travel companion was sliding off the back of his stallion. Feet back on the ground, she made straight for the front door, weaving in and out among the dormant cars like a rabbit trying to outrun an aggressive coyote.
He remained where he was for a moment, just watching her move. The phrase poetry in motion flashed through his head.
He supposed he couldn’t blame her for trying to put some distance between them. After all, he had run her off the road, however unintentionally.
Rousing himself, holding on to Golden Boy’s reins, he headed for the stables. Once there, he quickly removed the palomino’s saddle and made sure the stallion had enough water before making his way back to Wyatt’s party.
To face the music if he had to. But, with any luck, because of all these people, none of his brothers would even notice that he was gone.
The house was really crowded. He supposed that meant the party was a success. His brothers would be pleased, he thought.
“Where the hell have you been?” Shane wanted to know, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He draped his arm across his younger brother’s shoulders. As always, Shane was the picture of self-confidence. Nodding at a guest who obviously was interested in flirting with him, Shane told him, “You had the boy worried.”
“Jace?” Asher questioned. That didn’t sound right. When he’d gone for his less-than-successful attempt to clear his head, his son had seemed more content to be in his uncles’ company than in his. Was Shane just needling him? “Why would he be worried?”
Turning so that only Asher was privy to his expression, Shane dropped his smile and said seriously, “When he realized you were gone, he thought you weren’t coming back—the way his mother didn’t come back.”
Asher winced inwardly. “I didn’t think of that,” he confessed, silently upbraiding himself. In his meager defense, he’d thought that Jace was too young to make those kinds of bleak comparisons between Lynn’s behavior and his own.
Now he knew better. He kept forgetting just how precocious Jace could be.
A Small Fortune Page 3