Fortune's Perfect Match

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “Sounds like advertising spin, if you ask me.”

  For the past few hours, she’d miraculously managed to concentrate on something other than the fact that his bedroom was merely steps away, but as he tossed aside his own game wheel and stretched, she quickly realized how tenuous that control was. “I should get home.”

  His gaze cut to her. “Or…you could stay.”

  Her mouth went as dry as the Sahara. How easy it would be to nod. To just go with the moment.

  He’d take her to bed.

  They’d make love.

  There’d be fireworks going off all over the place.

  And then morning would come. Always, morning would come.

  He’d decide it had all been a mistake and move on, and she’d be left as alone as ever. Only with the added knowledge of what being with him—even for that short while—could be like. Sometimes ignorance was the smarter choice. She couldn’t miss what she didn’t know.

  “I could stay.” Her voice was husky.

  His gaze was steady. “But you won’t,” he finished.

  She wordlessly shook her head.

  He exhaled. “This is a hell of a note, isn’t it?”

  Wordless still, she nodded.

  And after a moment, he did, too. “Okay.” He pushed to his feet. “Get your things and I’ll grab the keys.”

  She rose, also, and hurried into the bathroom. Her dress had been soaking in the sink for the past few hours. The wine stains hadn’t gone anywhere and there was no way she could wear the garment. She squeezed out the water and rolled it into a ball, then tucked her high-heeled pumps on top and returned to the living room.

  Max was waiting by the opened door, staring at the keys he was jingling from his finger and wondering what the hell he was doing when Emily reappeared.

  She added her small clutch handbag to the pile in her arms and stepped out onto the landing. “I’ll get your clothes back to you as soon as I can.”

  He pulled the door shut. “No hurry.” His fingers touched the small of her back and she quickened her step, hurrying down the staircase that his apartment shared with his neighbor as if she didn’t want him touching her.

  Considering the way she’d practically gone up in flames when he had, though, he had a hard time believing it.

  They reached the sidewalk and she stopped to slip her feet into her shoes. “I probably look like a ‘Fashion Don’t’ picture out of a magazine.”

  “It’s definitely a different look for you.” Max held her arm as they crossed the parking lot to the covered spot. “I think I like it,” he admitted.

  Her soft laughter rang out in the still night. “Oversize men’s workout togs and four-inch heels. You’re just being polite.”

  “I’m being polite not telling you what goes through a man’s mind when the woman he wants is wearing nothing much more than his shirt and a pair of sexy high heels.” He liked looking at her on an ordinary day with her hair smooth and neat as a pin, her slender body wrapped in one of her stylishly tailored suits. Seeing her this way—wholly untailored with her hair tumbling messily around her shoulders, soft lips bare and ridiculously inviting—was damn near painful.

  It was too easy to forget she was supposed to be out of his league.

  They’d reached his truck and he pulled open the passenger door for her. She was hugging the bundle of her clothing to her stomach. Her lips were rounded in a silent “Oh.”

  “If you don’t get in now, I’m going to try real hard to convince you to stay,” he warned.

  She moistened her lips and hesitated for a moment just long enough to have him nearly groaning out loud. But then she ducked her chin and climbed up onto the high seat.

  His fingers clenched the door hard for a second before he shut it quietly and went around to the driver’s side.

  The streets were empty at that time of night and it seemed to take only minutes to drive from his apartment on one side of Red Rock to her sister’s place on the other.

  “Don’t get out,” she told him when he pulled up at the curb. The porch light clearly illuminated the front door and most of the walkway leading up to it. “I really did enjoy myself, Max. Even Mrs. Sheckley’s cookies.”

  “You still need that flying lesson,” he said abruptly.

  She gave him a quick look, her brows pulling together. “Why? You’re doing fine with everything on your own.”

  “Tanner’s on board with the website changes,” he reminded. “And he agrees about the social media angle for the high schools. I don’t know anything about that stuff. It was your idea in the first place.”

  She hesitated. Looked as if she wanted to say something. But after a moment, she nodded. “True enough. So, schedule the lesson then, and let me know when you want me to meet you at the office again.”

  He was damn glad for the chance Tanner was giving him, but right then he couldn’t have cared less about the office.

  It was an excuse to see her again, plain and simple. A safe excuse.

  “I’ll talk to Ross and let you know when.”

  She nodded and slid out of the truck, but hesitated before closing the door as she looked back at him. “If it makes any difference, I’d rather just go flying with you.” Her voice was soft. Not exactly hesitant, but not exactly confident, either.

  The gnawing ache in his gut reached new proportions. “How ’bout Sunday?”

  Her eyes widened a little. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He’d have to juggle a few things to make sure a plane was available. “We’ll need to be at the airport in the afternoon.”

  She was giving him that soft half smile of hers. She nodded. “I’ll meet you there.” She finally shut the door and headed up the walkway toward the house. On the porch, she looked back and gave a brief wave before disappearing inside.

  Only then did Max exhale and drive away. It was past midnight. But it wasn’t his bed he wanted to get to.

  It was a cold, cold shower.

  * * *

  “So?” Kirsten eyed him over the plate of cinnamon rolls she was holding. “How’d it go?”

  It was Sunday morning and he was at Kirsten’s place for breakfast. Ostensibly to eat the food that Jeremy wouldn’t be, because he was at the hospital. Max figured his sister was more concerned with pumping him for information than she was with any food going to waste. But this way he didn’t have to cook for himself, so he figured he could tolerate it.

  He was in a good mood, anyway.

  It was Sunday.

  He’d be flying that afternoon.

  With Emily.

  He transferred two rolls off the tray to his plate. “How’d what go?”

  “Don’t play dumb. You took Emily over to San Antonio for dinner, didn’t you?”

  He chewed his way through half of a roll before nodding. “Yeah.”

  Kirsten’s eyebrows climbed halfway up her forehead. “And…?”

  He shrugged. “And nothing.” He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his sister about what had gone on—or not gone on—when he and Emily had returned to his place.

  Her lips compressed. She plopped down on her seat across the breakfast table from him. “Talkative as always,” she complained. She poured herself a mug of coffee. “What restaurant did you go to?”

  His good humor hit a small pothole. “Place called Etienne’s. One of the instructors out at Redmond recommended it.”

  Kirsten was nodding. “Jeremy’s taken me there.”

  Figured. Max doubted the surgeon had made the mistake of going without his own necktie. He pulled off another corner of the roll and shoved it in his mouth.

  “Food was wonderful,” his sister was saying. “But Jeremy thought the atmosphere was a little stuffy.” She nudged a bowl of scrambled eggs toward him. “Have some eggs. You need protein, too.”

  “Sure thing, Mother.” But he scooped some eggs on his plate anyway. Mostly because he wanted them.

  “Ha-ha. So what’d you have to eat?”

 
He eyed her. “You really want to know what was on the menu?”

  “Nooo.” She pinched off a piece of roll and nibbled at it. “But I figure at least that’s something you’ll be willing to talk about.”

  He sighed. No matter what ups and downs the two of them had experienced together, he did know that she had his best interests at heart. “Goose butter,” he finally said, a little wryly. “Some seriously nasty stuff in my opinion but Emily seemed to like it okay.”

  His sister started to smile. “Jeremy doesn’t like it much, either.”

  “Knew there was something I liked about him.”

  “So what else?”

  “Soup. We never got to the entrée. And don’t start looking all excited. I spilled wine all over her and we left.”

  Her expression fell. “Was she angry?”

  Far from it. “Didn’t seem to be. How well does your husband know that side of the family?”

  “The Atlanta Fortunes. That’s what he calls them, anyway.” She sipped her coffee. “And I asked him that myself after we ran into you two at Red. He said they’d never been particularly close.” She didn’t look concerned. “Jeremy and his brothers grew up in California. William was busy running Fortune Forecasting there. It wasn’t connected to FortuneSouth at all, except for the name. I think it was mostly a cards-at-Christmas sort of relationship. He did say that John Michael—Emily’s father?—is pretty hard-driving. Everyone in the family evidently thinks so.”

  What Max knew about FortuneSouth was what he’d looked up on the internet the day after he’d met Emily in Tanner’s office. He’d found a slick website for the telecommunications company that covered more things than he’d been interested in clicking through and then a boatload of independent news articles that he’d read a lot more closely.

  Enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. Emily was way out of his league. He hadn’t discovered anything in the few weeks since then to change his mind.

  “I’m still a little stunned that you and Emily are dating when I hadn’t even known you’d met.”

  “We’re not dating.”

  Kirsten’s eyebrows shot up again. “What do you call it then?”

  “Hell if I know,” he muttered. “They have a lot of money.”

  Kirsten was silent for a moment. “And that bothers you. Obviously.”

  He polished off the eggs and moved on to his second roll.

  “Max, if you like her, then all that shouldn’t matter.”

  “It matters.”

  “Why? I come from the same background as you and I married a Fortune.”

  “You’re a woman. It’s different if the guy’s the one with no dough.”

  She made a face. “Talk about double standards.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But still true.” He didn’t look at his sister. “What do I have to offer a woman like her?”

  “A lot.” She reached across the table, squeezing his arm. “You’re kind and caring and loyal.”

  He grunted, scooting back from the table. “Like a damn lapdog.”

  “You’re also ridiculously stubborn, judge people too quickly, are way too hard on yourself and refuse to let yourself believe that good things can happen to you and they can last.”

  He carried his plate to the sink. “In my experience, things don’t last,” he reminded. “And I was a screwup.” He gave her a look when she started to protest. “We both know it,” he cut her off.

  “You just took a while to find your footing. You know, Max.” She hesitated for a moment. “I’m really proud of you. After you gave up Anthony—”

  He stiffened, gave her a warning look that, as usual, she ignored.

  “Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d handle all of that,” she said. “But look at you. You got into flying and now you work at the flight school. You have a nice place of your own. Everything’s coming together.”

  “Spoken like a loyal sister. Until I screw everything up again.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not going to do anything of the sort. That’s not the man you’ve become. I just wish you’d lighten up where Anthony is concerned.”

  “I just wish you’d quit while you were ahead.” He left the plate in the sink and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for the grub. Tell your husband I appreciate eating his share.”

  “Max.” She trailed after him as he headed for the front door.

  He shook his head. “No, Kirsten. Not this time. I know you still see him.” He couldn’t even say Anthony’s name. “That’s fine.” Jeremy and Coop were cousins and Kirsten had fallen in love with that baby boy same as Max had. “But he’s got a father now. Last thing he needs is me being around, confusing him. Topic closed.”

  Her disagreement showed plainly, but he appreciated the fact that she didn’t voice any more of it. She just waved when he left.

  After Kirsten’s, he visited the deli department at the supermarket and ordered a few sandwiches. He’d borrowed a basket the day before from Mrs. Sheckley. She’d been nearly beside herself at the notion that he had a date and had added a bag of brownies that more closely resembled hockey pucks and talked for an hour about the picnics that she and her husband had taken when they’d been young.

  He added several bottles of lemonade and water to the sandwiches, and an enormous chocolate bar that was sure to be more edible than the brownies and eyed the bunches of cut flowers stuck in a bucket of water next to the checkout register. There was no point in pretending he’d ever be the kind of man who’d give Emily hothouse roses.

  He ignored the flower bunches and put his purchases in front of the young clerk.

  “Looks like lunch,” the girl said, giving him a flirtatious smile. “I’ve seen you here before. Max, right?”

  He nodded and wished he’d gone to the other checkout even though the other clerk had a line twice as long.

  “I’m Tammy,” she said, even though he hadn’t asked and could see the tag on her uniform perfectly well. She slowly moved the lemonades over the conveyor belt. “Are you sharing these with someone special?”

  Two years before, maybe even as recently as a year ago, he’d have been perfectly willing to take advantage of the opening she was throwing at him. She was young. Cute.

  His speed.

  He grabbed a bunch of daisies out of the bucket and added it to his items before pulling out his wallet. “Yeah.”

  She gave a smile that seemed to say “Oh, well,” wished him a nice day and in minutes, he was out the door only to come face-to-face with Cooper Fortune.

  Max’s nerves knotted as he immediately looked around, but he saw no sign of Cooper’s wife, Kelsey, or his son. And before Max could avoid it, Cooper had stuck out his hand in greeting. “Max. How’s everything?”

  “Good. You?” Max shook the other man’s hand, keeping it as brief as possible, sidestepping along the way. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Cooper Fortune. He didn’t know him all that well. Except to know the man pretty much had everything that Max had once wanted.

  Namely, Anthony.

  “Everything’s great,” Cooper said.

  “Good to hear.” Max managed a smile and sidestepped again, holding up the bulging bag in his hand. The daisies were poking out the top of it. “Gotta book.” He didn’t wait to see if Cooper had anything else to add. Call him rude; call him a coward. He just headed around the man aiming straight for his truck.

  He’d stepped forward with Anthony last year because it had been the right thing to do. Whether he liked it or not, he’d known he wasn’t the boy’s father. But that didn’t mean he wanted to stand around in a parking lot with Anthony’s rightful father shooting the breeze.

  Except for the flowers, he dumped his purchases into the basket, and drove to the airport.

  Emily was already there by the time he turned into the parking lot. He pulled into the closest spot to hers and climbed out, lifting his hand in a wave.

  She was standing next to her fancy rental car, shading her eyes with her
hand, her lips curved in a slight smile. “Good morning,” she called.

  “Morning.” He grabbed his flight bag and the basket off the other seat. The knot in his chest disappeared as he headed toward her. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and the top she had on reminded him vaguely of the ones the waitresses wore at Red—ruffled around the top and slipping off one shoulder—only hers was white and paired with a pair of blue jeans.

  He’d never seen her in blue jeans.

  She’d also left her hair loose and it drifted long and silky straight around her arms.

  She looked carefree and pretty and so damn approachable he could almost forget who she was.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” She lifted her chin toward the sky, closing her eyes like she was receiving the sun’s kiss.

  His hand tightened on the wooden handles of the basket. “Beautiful,” he agreed gruffly.

  Her lashes lifted and color suffused her cheeks.

  “Here.” He abruptly held out the daisies. “These are for you.”

  Her fingers brushed his as she slowly took the cellophane-wrapped bundle. “They’re lovely.”

  He shrugged, thinking he’d have been better off to leave the flowers in his truck. She’d have never needed to know about them. “They’re just a few daisies,” he dismissed.

  “But they’re still daisies.” She’d lifted the flowers to her nose and she eyed him over the sunny white blooms, giving a shrug of her own that seemed to match his in awkwardness. “No one has ever given me daisies before,” she said.

  “No man has given you flowers before.” He didn’t believe it for a second.

  “Not daisies.” She traced her fingertip over the petals and gave him a surprisingly shy smile. “And they’re my favorite. Thank you.”

  And then he wished he’d bought out the entire bucket of them just so he could see that smile again. “You’re welcome.”

  She gestured toward the basket. “Is that a picnic basket?”

  “You said you liked Sunday afternoon picnics.”

  “I did. I do.” Her eyes met his, then skittered away. “At least I believe that I will. Since this is another first.”