Kate Fortune’s Journal Entry
Sterling and I came to Arizona to get away from the cold Minnesota winter, but my old bones are practically quivering from all the troubles that have befallen this branch of the Fortune family. Ever since the accident happened on the construction site for the children’s hospital, an investigator has been prying into the Fortune family’s business. It’s just ludicrous to think that any member of the Fortune clan could have been involved in this terrible tragedy.
There is one bright spot, though. Ever since I ran into Cynthia McCree and her adorable son, Bobby, I’ve known that Bobby isn’t a McCree—he’s a Fortune through and through. Of course, it’s taking Bobby’s parents a little time to put the past behind them…but, from what I’ve heard, the desert sun doesn’t feel nearly as warm as the heat sizzling between them!
Dear Reader,
Thanks to all who have shared, in letters and at our Web site, eHarlequin.com, how much you love Silhouette Desire! One Web visitor told us, “When I was nineteen, this man broke my heart. So I picked up a Silhouette Desire and…lost myself in other people’s happiness, sorrow, desire…. Guys came and went and the books kept entertaining me.” It is so gratifying to know how our books have touched and even changed your lives—especially with Silhouette celebrating our 20 anniversary in 2000.
The incomparable Joan Hohl dreamed up October’s MAN OF THE MONTH. The Dakota Man is used to getting his way until he meets his match in a feisty jilted bride. And Anne Marie Winston offers you a Rancher’s Proposition, which is part of the highly sensual Desire promotion BODY & SOUL.
First Comes Love is another sexy love story by Elizabeth Bevarly. A virgin finds an unexpected champion when she is rumored to be pregnant. The latest installment of the sensational Desire miniseries FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE GROOMS is Fortune’s Secret Child by Shawna Delacorte. Maureen Child’s popular BACHELOR BATTALION continues with Marooned with a Marine. And Joan Elliott Pickart returns to Desire with Baby: MacAllister-Made, part of her wonderful miniseries THE BABY BET.
So take your own emotional journey through our six new powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire—and keep sending us those letters and e-mails, sharing your enthusiasm for our books!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Fortune’s Secret Child
SHAWNA DELACORTE
To Judy Laivo, who has displayed such grace in the face of adversity.
Books by Shawna Delacorte
Silhouette Desire
Sarah and the Stranger #730
The Bargain Bachelor #759
Cassie’s Last Goodbye #814
Miracle Baby #905
Cowboy Dreaming #1020
Wyoming Wife? #1110
The Tycoon’s Son #1157
The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish #1187
The Daddy Search #1253
Fortune’s Secret Child #1324
Yours Truly
Much Ado About Marriage
SHAWNA DELACORTE
has delayed her move to Washington State, staying in the Midwest in order to spend some additional time with family. She still travels as often as time permits and is looking forward to visiting several new places during the upcoming year while continuing to devote herself to writing full-time. Shawna would appreciate hearing from her readers. She can be reached at 6505 E. Central, Box #300, Wichita, KS 67206-1924.
Meet the Arizona Fortunes—a family with a legacy of wealth, influence and power. As they gather for a host of weddings, a shocking plot against the family is revealed...and passionate new romances are ignited.
DR. SHANE FORTUNE: This proudly independent loner thinks he’s finally gotten his life together, until a weird twist of fate brings his former girlfriend to his house in the middle of the night—and back into his life.
CYNTHIA MCCREE: The single mom has put her past firmly behind her, and nothing—not even an undeniable passion—is going to bring her back to the man who’d once been the love of her life. Not when she has so much at stake…
BOBBY MCCREE: This five-year-old is the most important thing in Cynthia’s life—that is, until a midnight collision brings her smack into the arms of his Native American father!
FORTUNE FAMILY TREE: THE ARIZONA BRANCH
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
One
Cynthia McCree awoke with a start. She sat bolt upright in bed, shaking the fogginess from her head as she collected her bearings in the unfamiliar surroundings. She furrowed her brow, straining to hear the noise that had woken her. There it was again, the same sound. Her muscles tensed and an uncomfortable dryness closed off her throat. She tried to swallow her apprehension, but it refused to go away.
She slid out of bed and pulled on her robe. Her heartbeat quickened. Her stomach jittered nervously. She quietly made her way down the darkened hallway to her son’s bedroom. She tried to calm her nerves by telling herself that the sound was just Bobby, having a restless night due to his new surroundings. She opened the door and stepped inside.
The night-light in the adjoining bathroom provided just enough illumination for her to see. She pulled up the sheet and tucked it around the shoulders of the sleeping five-year-old boy. She placed a tender kiss on his forehead. A soft warmth settled over her and wrapped around her senses as she watched him. He was the most important thing in her life. He’d been through so much upheaval during the past two weeks. She hoped things would settle down for him now. For both of them.
She was jerked out of her moment of reverie. There it was again. Her body stiffened, and the loving glow that had filtered through her consciousness just moments earlier was shoved aside. Her anxiety level shot up. Her heart lodged in her throat. The noise came from downstairs. Did she dare go to investigate? She glanced back at her sleeping son, then set her jaw in a hard line of determination. She drew a steadying breath, then stepped into the hallway.
Downstairs in the kitchen Shane Fortune had just popped a frozen dinner into the microwave. He leaned back against the counter and closed his eyes. The weariness from the long day had finally caught up with him. The three-day medical conference was exhausting enough without tackling the one-hundred-mile drive from Phoenix back to his home in Pueblo, Arizona.
A sound broke the quiet, yanking him out of his thoughts. An adrenaline surge put his senses on full alert. Someone had stepped on the squeaky stair between the foyer and the second floor. He made his way from the kitchen, through the utility room and down the back hall, arriving at the arched opening underneath the stairs. He paused for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dim illumination filtering in through the windows from the outside street light.
A shadowy figure crossed the foyer toward the front door. Shane moved silently through the darkness in much the same way as a cat stalks its prey, or as one of his Native American ancestors would have stealthily picked his way through a rocky canyon. He sprang from behind, knocking the intruder to the ground. He easily pinned the struggling body against the terra-cotta floor in the entry-way. Then his hand grazed a decidedly female breast and he heard a woman gasp.
Shane yanked his hand away. He focused on the face of the intruder. Her identity exploded in his consciousness, leaving him frozen in stunned silence. Waves of conflicting emotions swept through him. He had not seen her in six years, but there was no mistaking who she was even in the darkened surroundings. No one ha
d eyes like hers, eyes that seemed to glow an iridescent blue. He couldn’t find enough breath even to speak. He finally forced out one word, managing only a hushed whisper. “Cynthia.”
He hovered directly above her, their mouths almost in contact. Sexual electricity leapt between them. It was the same sensual excitement that had once been part of their life together. It wrenched all the old emotions from the past—both good ones and bad—and deposited them in the here and now. What weird twist of fate had brought her to his house in the middle of the night?
She stopped struggling, but her muscles remained tensed. Every heated desire he had ever felt for Cynthia McCree came rushing back full force. Memories of long ago—the smell of her perfume, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her naked body pressed along the length of his, the many passion-filled nights of lovemaking—came from the same hidden place that also held old feelings of confusion and anger.
Cynthia wasn’t sure if any of this was real or only a cruel trick of her mind prompted by her return to Pueblo. Shane Fortune...was it possible that she was still in bed fast asleep and this was only a bad dream? She felt his heartbeat as his body pressed against hers—at least, she thought it was his heartbeat. It could just as easily have been her own. Their lips were so close she could almost feel the contact. All the old emotions flooded over her—times of unbridled passion and times of deep sorrow. He had been the love of her life. He was also the man who had broken her heart and hurt her more than she thought possible.
None of this made sense. She shook off the past and renewed her struggle as she tried to collect her wits. She shoved hard against his chest with both hands in an effort to push him away. She had to pull herself together and do it quickly. There was a lot more at stake here than being physically thrown together with the last man on earth she had expected to be with or even wanted to be with.
She noticed a moment of hesitation on his part when he resisted her efforts to dislodge him. It almost seemed as if he intended to close the few inches of space separating their mouths. A sharp jolt of fear surged through her body—not fear of what Shane might do, but rather fear that she would be a willing accomplice. Then as suddenly as it had all begun, he relinquished his hold on her and stood up. A very shaken Cynthia scrambled to her feet, then leaned against the staircase banister to steady her wobbly legs. She gasped for breath as anxiety ran rampant through her body. She kept a wary eye on him while he reached for a light switch.
Shane’s logical and analytical mind tried to dismiss the emotions and put things into some type of order. He couldn’t make any sense of what had happened. He had not been this confused since the day he’d told Cynthia they had no future together and their affair was over. Those years had been very intense for him, filled with inner turmoil and conflicts. He had cut her out of his life with surgical efficiency, and there had been no further contact between them—until now. He didn’t like the nervous uncertainty that jittered inside him. He clicked on a light, then took a calming breath before turning to face her.
He tried to speak, but his throat constricted, trapping his words inside. The disarray of her long blond hair exuded an earthy sexuality that caught him totally off guard. The barefoot woman in a knee-length robe standing in front of him was even more beautiful than the memory he’d been carrying around for six years. A wave of desire surged through his body, in direct contrast to his practiced outer show of calm and control.
He tried to beat down this unaccustomed lack of composure and take charge of the situation the same way he did with everything that came his way. It was a skill he’d perfected over a lifetime, making sure no one could read his thoughts or feelings. Before he could manage it, though, Cynthia usurped any thought he had of being in control of the circumstances.
She made no effort to curb the edge of displeasure surrounding her words. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”
A sudden twinge of discomfort reinforced her awareness of the way she was dressed. Cynthia tightened the sash of her robe and pulled the collar close around her neck. She was vaguely aware of the scrape on her forearm, the result of contact with the rough tile floor. She put as much authority into her voice as she could dredge up from her rapidly dwindling reserve of confidence. “I made sure the doors were locked before going to bed. How did you get in here?”
As a corporate attorney, she had learned to read people. She immediately recognized his body language—leaning forward in an attempt to psychologically throw her off balance, the unsettling way his dark piercing eyes seemed to see inside her, his attempt to control the situation and control her. It had worked back when her worldly experience was limited to Pueblo, Arizona, but it wasn’t going to work anymore. She had long since become toughened by the realities of life. She pulled her determination together, held her ground and refused to back down before his aggressive manner.
“You’re asking how I got in?” Had he heard her correctly? Was she really challenging his right to be in his own house? None of this made any sense to him. He maintained his outer facade of total authority as he scrambled to put things into some kind of perspective. “I think a better question is, What are you doing in my house?”
Her eyes widened in shock. She stumbled backward a couple of steps. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to speak, giving her voice a husky sound. “Your house? This is your house?” The tightness in her jaw relaxed a little. Disbelief covered her features where determination had been just a moment earlier. “How can that possibly be?”
The sharpness in her words melted away as it turned into bewilderment. She seemed to be staring into space rather than focusing on anything. She sounded almost as if she was trying to work out a problem in her mind rather than talking to him. “Kate insisted that I stay here until I get everything settled and find a job. With my mother having died when I was a child, I’m the one responsible for handling my father’s estate. Kate led me to believe that she owned this house, that it was leased to someone who was going to be out of state for a while.”
She struggled to regain her determination, finally managing to exercise some authority over what was happening, even though the situation was far from clear. She stared at him, her manner no longer questioning or unsure. “She certainly didn’t tell me this house belonged to you.”
His brow knitted in a frown. He shook his head, hoping the puzzle pieces would settle into their proper places. “Kate Fortune said you could stay in my house? Your father’s estate? What’s going on here?” Shane took a calming breath. On more than one occasion over the past six years he had envisioned a reunion with Cynthia and pondered what might have been had he not cut her out of his life. The thoughts always wound up making him feel sad, so he had refused to dwell on them. Only now here she suddenly was, the flesh-and-blood woman, more beautiful than ever—not a figment of his imagination—and he didn’t know how to handle it.
He motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. “I must be missing something. It’s been a couple of weeks since I talked to Kate. I told her I would be attending a medical conference up in Phoenix. I wasn’t scheduled to be home until tomorrow but decided to drive back tonight, instead.”
Cynthia glanced nervously toward the top of the stairs. She didn’t want their voices to wake Bobby. Things were awkward enough without her son making an unexpected appearance. She returned her attention to Shane, thankful they were moving away from the bottom of the stairs. Things were becoming more and more bizarre by the minute. Her initial trepidation had turned to confusion and now bordered on anger.
And then, as if to mock her attempt at control, her suppressed desire for Shane Fortune heated to an uncomfortable level. She tried to keep any and all emotion out of her voice. She was an intelligent adult who could certainly handle an awkward situation with a former lover in a mature manner. At least that was what she tried to convince herself of. “I don’t know how this apparent misunderstanding occurred, but there’s obviously a problem here, and it needs to be straighte
ned out immediately.”
“I’ll have to agree with you on that.” Shane took his dinner from the microwave and set it on the counter, then turned his attention back to Cynthia. He felt a twinge of guilt when he noticed the scrape on her arm. It was not the first time he had battled feelings of guilt where Cynthia McCree was concerned.
He watched her for a moment as she nervously smoothed her hair back with her hands—the curve of her jaw, the tilt of her nose, the soft lips, the creamy skin. His breathing quickened and then his throat went dry, making it difficult for him to swallow. He finally looked away, hoping to break the bands of tension that tightened across his chest. He didn’t know what to think and wasn’t sure what he felt.
He glanced at the dinner he had removed from the microwave, then shoved it aside. Food was of no interest to him at that moment. He stared at her, drinking in her beauty as he tried to sort out what had happened.
He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her—to caress her cheek and to hold her in his arms—but he didn’t dare. It took all his willpower to fight the urge. He glanced away from the emotional pull of her presence. He wasn’t sure how to proceed but felt pressured to say something. “So...start at the beginning and tell me how you came to be in my house.”
She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her confidence faded with each passing second. She could not keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “You own this house? Is this also where you live...your permanent residence?”
“I live here three hundred and sixty-five days a year, three hundred and sixty-six in leap years.” He leveled a steady gaze at her. “And just how long have you been living here?”
She stared at the floor as she uttered a sheepish response. “I moved in late this afternoon.”
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