Back in Fortune's Bed

by Bronwyn Jameson

  “Coup de foudre.”

  “Oh, I thought so at the time, but who believes in love at first sight?”

  “It happens,” Eliza surprised her by saying. Her expression had turned somber, and Diana had the feeling she was thinking of something else. Or someone else. But a moment later she shed that introspective look and smiled brightly. “You know, I think this discussion needs uplifting with something decadent.”

  “Crème brûlée?”

  “Cheesecake.”

  Diana wasn’t convinced she could force even dessert past the tightness in her throat and chest, but she pretended to study the menu while that morning’s conversation with Max replayed through her mind. “You know what is upsetting me?” she asked after several minutes of stewing. “This morning he accused me of playing around with him while I was engaged to David.”

  Eliza put down her menu. “Why on earth would he think that?”

  “Because I married so quickly.”

  “Did you tell him why?”

  Diana shook her head. “I couldn’t see any point. He was so rude and presumptive. He assumed the wedding was all set before I went to Australia.”

  After a moment’s contemplation, Eliza asked, “How did he know when you actually married David? If he never contacted you after you returned home….”

  “I suppose he must have read about the wedding—it was in a lot of magazines. David made sure of that. Not that it matters how Max knew. I just don’t understand why he’s so antagonistic. Especially after so much time.”

  “Perhaps he’s suffering from dog-in-manger syndrome. He didn’t want to marry you himself, but that didn’t mean he wanted someone else to.”

  “That’s crazy!”

  “That’s men.” Eliza gave a rueful shrug. “I grew up with three brothers. Believe me, the competitiveness extends into all kinds of craziness.”

  The waiter returned to take their orders and Diana laid her menu on the table. “I’m going to pass,” she said. “I have some prints to make this afternoon.”

  “You’re not coming shopping? I was relying on you to help me choose an outfit for Case and Gina’s wedding.” Eliza gave the menu one last look of longing then handed it to their waiter. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, as well, or I’ll never find anything to fit.” She turned back to Diana. “You haven’t forgotten the wedding is this weekend?”

  “No.”

  “No…but?” Eliza asked, astutely reading the hint of more in her answer.

  “Will your visitors from ‘down under’ be there?”

  “I believe so. Zack is heading home to New Zealand the next day but Max is staying on for another week or so. Surely you’re not letting this spat with him change your plans?”

  “Not seeing him again would prevent any more spats.”

  “Didn’t you decide when you moved here,” her friend pointed out with quiet gravity, “that this new start was about taking control of your life? That you wouldn’t allow yourself to be manipulated or managed any more?”

  “This isn’t the same thing.”

  “As the games your father and husband played? No. But is staying home and hiding from your past the best way to move forward? I think you should go to the wedding. And I think you should come shopping.” A devilish smile sparked Eliza’s eyes. “We’ll find a knockout dress that makes you feel fabulous and—bonus points—makes my dog-in-manger cousin sit up and howl at the moon!”

  Diana laughed at the image, even as she shook her head. “I don’t need a new outfit.”

  On a roll, Eliza didn’t listen. “It would be even better if you took a date.”

  “There’s no one I—”

  Eliza snapped her fingers. “Jeffrey!”

  “My boss, Jeffrey? Oh, no. We don’t date.”

  “Not strictly, but you do have those dinner nondates.”

  “As friends and colleagues,” Diana pointed out.

  “So invite him as your friend and colleague. You know how Jeffrey adores any opportunity to promote his gallery. This is the perfect opportunity. And since he’s good-looking, single and a terrific dancer, he is also the perfect date.” Satisfied with her logic, Eliza picked up her purse and signaled the waiter. “Now that’s decided, let’s go find us both the perfect dress!”

  It wasn’t the dress that made Max sit up and take notice, although it had taken him a decent slice of the wedding reception to work that out. At first he thought it was the color, a rich sapphire blue that provided the ideal foil for her dark hair and creamy skin. Then he saw her walking and decided it was the way the layers of fabric faithfully flowed with the sway of her hips. And when she danced the subtle sprinkling of sequins only glinted beneath the ballroom chandeliers when others around her dazzled.

  This wasn’t a dress that screamed look-at-me. Oh no, it whispered in a sultry midnight voice to check out the body inside. That’s what had made him sit up and take notice.

  “Some dress, isn’t it?”

  Max blinked his focus away from the dancers to frown at his companion. What the hell was Zack doing checking out Diana’s dress? Except it wasn’t Diana who’d nailed his mate’s attention, he realized belatedly, but a woman standing nearby. Until she turned her laughing face their way he didn’t recognize the feminine figure in green as his cousin Skylar, but that’s who it was all right. The down-to-earth tomboy he’d teasingly nick-named Freckles was all glammed up and, yes, even wearing a dress.

  No wonder Zack had noticed…although he wasn’t sure he liked the way his mate was eyeing her. “I think it’s time to hit the dance-floor,” Zack murmured.

  “Good idea. Here, hold this.” Max pressed his empty champagne flute into Zack’s hand. Ignoring the indignant protest, he winked and clapped his friend on the back. “It’s every man for himself. See you out there.”

  “You’re not such a bad dancer, cuzz,” Sky teased. “For an Aussie cowhand.”

  “It became a lot easier when you gave up fighting me for the lead, Freckles.”

  She laughed and punched his arm lightly before resuming their comfortable two-step. “What do you think of our wedding, South Dakota style?”

  “I’m amazed they put this shindig together so quickly.” Only three weeks ago Case had stunned everyone by announcing his engagement to Gina Reynolds, yet they’d managed to pull off a smoothly run and stylish event with a seeming lack of effort.

  “When Case sets his mind to something, there’s no stopping him,” Sky remarked. “Plus it helps that he owns the venue.”

  Max grinned at that wry observation. “No doubt.”

  The venue was the spectacular ballroom of the Fortune’s Seven Hotel, part of the diverse portfolio of businesses put together by Nash Fortune and his father before him and his father before him. Since Nash’s early retirement, Dakota Fortune had been run from an impressive downtown office complex by Case and his brother Creed, who’d continued to build the company’s considerable assets.

  Creed, Max noted, had stood up as best man for his elder brother while Blake, the third of Nash’s sons, had been a conspicuous absentee from the wedding ceremony.

  In the weeks since their arrival Max and Zack had spent a lot of time jetting to and fro—sometimes with Skylar along to provide local expertise—inspecting stud complexes from Nebraska to Kentucky to Florida. In between trips Max had met all his cousins. He’d dined with them, shared early breakfasts and late suppers with those who lived at the big estate house, but until this evening he hadn’t picked up on all the underlying family tensions.

  Point in question, the current heated discussion between Creed and Blake, who had just arrived at the hotel. Creed’s date was attempting to conciliate. Max hoped her evening dress was flame retardant.

  “You’ve gone quiet,” Sky said. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Let’s say I’m being entertained.”

  Noticing what had prompted his dry remark, she clicked her tongue in admonishment. “For Gina’s sake, I hope they don’t come
to blows.”

  “Do they often?”

  “Not since Blake moved out of the house. He has some issues with the way Case and Creed cut him out of the family business.”

  “I hear he’s done very well on his own.”

  “Extremely well. His casinos are worth a bomb, which is all the more reason he should let this stuff go.” The frown puckering Sky’s brow deepened to a scowl.

  “Perhaps I should go and crack their stubborn male heads together.”

  “You’ll only draw more attention. Besides, Creed’s girlfriend looks like she has them in hand.”

  “Would you look at that? They’re walking off in separate directions, and I don’t think Case and Gina even noticed!” She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed again.

  “I heard Sasha was very good at her job. Have you met her? She’s a public relations assistant at Dakota Fortune.”

  “I haven’t, but after that display I’d like to.”

  “I heard you had a rep as a lady’s man. ‘The Playboy Cowboy’, isn’t it?”

  Heard from Zack, no doubt. His friend thought the society columnist’s ridiculous tag was a real hoot. Max shook his head in mock disillusionment. “I can’t believe you’d take the word of that silver-tongued Kiwi over your own flesh-and-blood relation.”

  Oddly, she didn’t fire back her usual smart mouth response. Max noticed the slight flush creeping into her face. Uh-oh. “I should warn you about Zack….”

  “I should warn you about Sasha,” Sky retorted.

  “She’s with Creed.”

  “My interest is only in her PR skills.”

  “Sure it is.”

  Max chuckled and didn’t bother defending himself further. He did like women but his teasing banter with Sky was only that. A bit of fun that helped divert his attention from the only woman who had captured his interest tonight.

  That woman wasn’t Creed’s auburn-haired date, despite her impressive peacemaking performance.

  A tap on his shoulder brought their dance to a halt and he turned to find Maya Blackstone apologizing for the interruption. Maya was the daughter of Nash Fortune’s third and current wife, Patricia, with striking looks that affirmed her Native American heritage. From what he’d gathered while living at the Fortune estate, Maya was a close friend of Skylar’s but maintained a cool distance from the rest of her step-siblings.

  Maya turned a worried face to Sky. “Have you seen my mother? I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find her. She was so quiet earlier—I’m worried she may be ill.”

  “She wasn’t feeling well,” Sky confirmed. “A headache, I think. She said she was going home before it got any worse, but she didn’t want anyone to fuss.”

  “But that’s so unlike her,” Maya fussed regardless. “You know she hates missing any part of a family celebration.”

  “Well, at least she missed Creed and Blake’s latest altercation. That wouldn’t have helped her headache any!”

  “Oh, please, tell me you’re joking.”

  “Problem?”

  They all turned at Zack’s intrusion, and Max lost interest in Maya and Sky’s exchange about the warring half-brothers when he saw Diana at his friend’s side. Her hand remained in Zack’s, as if they’d paused in dancing to join the little huddle at the edge of the dance-floor.

  That niggled at him a cursed sight more than all the dances she’d shared with her date.

  Max had observed her interaction with that smooth customer all evening without detecting any spark of heat. The bloke was attentive as a lapdog and they seemed comfortable together. Obviously they were friends but he’d bet London to a brick they weren’t lovers.

  His New Zealand buddy, however, had to be watched. Zack pulled women with a scary lack of effort—that’s what he’d wanted to warn Sky about. Perhaps he should have warned Zack to keep his hands off both his cousin and Diana!

  A third man joined their group and Maya introduced him as her boyfriend Brad McKenzie, before filling him in on Patricia’s whereabouts. Apparently he’d been helping Maya in her search and now he took her hand and towed her onto the dance-floor. During the round of introductions and explanations, Zack had struck up a conversation with Sky and they, too, took to the floor.

  Zack didn’t miss the chance to wink and mouth every man for himself as he departed.

  Max reminded himself that Sky was capable of holding her own in any company. She also had a father and three big brothers to watch out for her. Besides, he’d been left alone with Diana and that realization brought an edgy satisfaction that overrode everything else.

  All evening she’d managed to evade his company. Not that he blamed her. He’d had just enough champagne to admit that he could have handled their last encounter with more finesse. He hoped he’d had enough champagne to manage an apology.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked with cool politeness, still avoiding eye contact.

  “It’s been…interesting.”

  “In what way?”

  “Keeping up with all the crosscurrents has been an exercise,” he admitted. “I can understand Patricia’s headache.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Fortune parties are never dull.”

  “This one hasn’t been,” he said softly. “And that smile of yours just made it even brighter.”

  He heard the little hitch in her breath, saw the flutter of pulse in her throat, and finally her gaze swung up to connect with his. In that instant there was no pretense, no anger, just the intense familiarity of this woman, of that look in her eyes, of how she’d fit in his arms, in his bed, in his life.

  All the years they’d spent apart fell away like a tumbling house of cards. Whether it was the moment, the setting, the champagne, it didn’t matter. He knew that he still wanted her and chance had delivered the perfect opportunity to have her in his arms again.

  When he took her hand, the kick of contact resonated through his body and hummed in his blood. He felt the slight tremble in her fingertips a split second before she tried to pull away, but he fastened his grip and tugged her nearer.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and she puffed out a gasp of indignation. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Resuming the dance Maya interrupted,” he said, pulling her resistive body into the traditional waltz hold. “Since your partner abandoned you, looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  Three

  Finding herself so unexpectedly alone with Max—with a Max who traded quips and flattering charm rather than backhanded swipes about her marriage—had thrown Diana for a loop before he took her hand and set her fingertips alive with sensation. It took two seconds of that skin-to-skin contact to admit that she’d never responded so instantly and intensely to any other man.

  Not before Max, not since Max.

  She was still off balance and struggling for composure when he attempted to lead her into the waltz steps that matched an old orchestral standard. His hand on her back seared through the filmy fabric to imprint the skin beneath. Hormones that had perked to life with the first glimpse of his smile now soared to their own melody. Yet her feet dragged, heavy with I-can’t-do-this-all-over-again fear and reluctance.

  Around them other couples took evasive action, and her obvious resistance was drawing curious glances. To stand her ground and demand he let her go would only bring more attention to herself, something she’d loathed since childhood. With a stage diva mother and Broadway director father, she and her sisters had been expected to not only share their parents’ limelight but to revel in it.

  Somehow Diana had missed out on those particular genes.

  One of the reasons she’d fallen in love with photography was because it placed her on the other side of the spotlight; one of the talents she brought to her craft was her understanding of stage fright. She worked hard to devise settings that put her subjects at ease, and she helped them by using the same disassociation and relaxation techniques that had pulled her through an unhappy adolesce
nce and even unhappier marriage.

  Now seemed a perfect time to apply those skills.

  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the music, letting the rhythm flow through her limbs and into the dance steps. After several minutes and a complete circle of the spacious ballroom floor, she had almost blocked out her partner. And then he spoke.

  “Not so hard, is it, once you relax and go with the flow.”

  “I started lessons when I was three.” Following a strong male lead had never been an issue for her. Allowing herself to be pushed and pulled had been her strong—or weak—suit. “Dancing isn’t the problem.”

  Max had always been sharp; she didn’t need to state out loud that he was the problem. His mouth kicked into a rueful half-smile. “I guess I deserved that.”

  “For railroading me into dancing with you? Yes.”

  “If I’d gone the formal route and asked you for the pleasure of this dance, would you have accepted?”

  “No.”

  “It’s only a dance,” he pointed out.

  “Is it?”

  He regarded her silently for a moment. “What do you think it is, Diana?”

  Not Mrs. Young. In fact he was being altogether too affable. She didn’t trust him or the lingering traces of his smile any more than she trusted her body’s extravagant responses to his nearness. She didn’t need her breasts pointing out their acute craving; she didn’t want these touch-me flutters suffusing her skin. “I have no idea what this is,” she said archly. “Given your antagonism the last two occasions we’ve met, I can’t help but wonder what this civility is all about.”

  “You think I have an agenda?”

  “I think you have a nerve, expecting me to take pleasure in your company.”

  “Would an apology help?”

  “For the other morning? Oh, I think it would take a lot more than ‘sorry’ to make up for that outlandish allegation!”

  Diana had set out for the late afternoon wedding determined on three fronts. To enjoy herself, no matter how many bad memories the ceremony evoked. To ignore Max, no matter how fine he looked in a formal suit. And if the second failed, to not get involved in another altercation.