Her legs gave out first, making her dip back a little and, in response, making him wrap his arms around her to hold her up. Then her torso went liquid, filled with swamped heartbeats that sounded as if they were coming from underwater, far away.
Every one of those pulses echoed, traveling through her body as if she were a single, connected waterway, beats rolling through her like waves that pounded one right after another.
As if afraid of drowning in him, she grasped his shirt, dragging him toward her, slowing down the kiss, parting her lips until they sipped at each other, dizzy, hazy, spun-motion temptation.
Leather, she kept thinking. She couldn’t get enough of his scent, of his skin and his five o’clock shadow scraping her face, leaving a pleasant burn.
She buried a hand in his hair—thick and lustrous—bringing him closer to her, as close as he could get. Closer than she’d been to anyone in her whole life.
And it still wasn’t enough.
When he stroked his tongue into her mouth, she held her breath, suspended on a crest of lazy desire. He stroked her again, then again, until a sensual rhythm consumed them, a sensuous pattern that had taken her over—in her chest, in her belly, between her legs.
Aching... How could she ache so much for anyone, just from a kiss?
Unable to get air into her lungs, she turned her head aside. He nuzzled her neck.
She was still reeling, clutching his shirt, nearly pulling it off him.
“I’ve been waiting to do that,” he whispered against her skin.
“You did it the other day.” She had no idea how she’d gotten the words out. “At the picnic.”
He laughed and she felt it in his chest, felt the borrowed vibrations in her own chest.
“That wasn’t a kiss at the picnic,” he said. “This was a kiss.”
Yeah, it had been.
He rubbed his mouth over her ear, and her knees buckled.
“Sweet spot?” he asked.
If only he knew how many of those she had. Hell, she suspected that with Sawyer Fortune, her whole body might be a sweet spot.
“Don’t push it, cowboy,” she said, her voice sounding drunk. “We’re out in the middle of my parking lot.”
“We can remedy that.”
He lifted his hand, touched the place on her neck where his lips had been, caressing her lightly.
She might as well have not had any knees whatsoever, for all the good they were doing her right now. It felt as if the only thing binding her was a thin thread of what common sense she had left.
Was it common sense telling her not to rush in, though? Or did she just want to draw out these kisses? To be chased by Sawyer until one of them exploded with this lust that she couldn’t deny anymore?
“Are you hinting about taking this to my apartment?” she asked.
“I can do more than hint.”
She doubted she could withstand what he was thinking of doing to her next.
Lightly, she put a hand on his chest. “I’m sure you can manage a whole lot, Sawyer, but it won’t be tonight.”
He trailed a finger from the side of her neck to the cove where her collarbones met. Another sweet spot, and this time she made a tiny sound of delight.
“Really, Laurel?” he asked. “You want to call it a night?”
Nope. But that pesky common sense of hers had gotten stronger and was now clawing through all the desire.
And as she got her breath back, common sense started to make more sense.
She planted both hands against his chest now, a move that was meant to put the kibosh on all this, but...oh, man. Muscles. Skin.
What did he look like under that shirt?
Save it for later.
When she gave him a gentle push away, he laughed again, looking as if this had never happened before. A woman saying no.
But there was a first time for everything.
“’Night, cowboy.”
And with all the gumption she had, she sauntered away from him. It would’ve been a fine show, too, if she’d remembered that she had her flight bag in the car.
Dammit.
She went back to get it, still acting like Josie Cool, even though she was more like Josie Hot and Bothered.
“I just forgot this,” she said, smiling, holding up her bag, then backtracking toward the path to her apartment. Yes, very cool.
He’d come to lean against his convertible, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, a you’ll-regret-this grin on his mouth.
More temptation.
More of a reason to get her butt to her apartment alone.
She turned all the way around, walking the path to safety, thinking she was fully in control now.
Until he spoke in that low, heart-pulsing drawl.
“Sleep tight, Laur.”
“You bet I will.”
He laughed as if he knew better.
And it turned out he did, because once she’d settled down and gotten ready for bed, sleep didn’t come easy.
Neither did the return of her common sense, as her mind gave way to all the lingerie fantasies that had started earlier at the department store, when he’d just about burned her up with a desire-filled gaze.
* * *
Sawyer had gone home and taken a cold shower.
Ice-cold.
He’d hated to see the evening end, and not only because Laurel hadn’t invited him in. The day after tomorrow was when his parents would be arriving in town, and he wasn’t looking forward to the family fireworks.
But he still had his birthday to look forward to before they came, as well as a cocktail party that Laurel would hopefully be attending.
The next morning, after a restless night of sleep and after he’d contacted Mrs. Deaver about the shopping he’d done, he couldn’t stop thinking of what Laurel would look like in whatever kind of dress Jasmine the salesclerk had picked out....
And whether Laurel would be wearing that bodysuit for him anytime soon.
The hours lumbered by for Sawyer as he made himself busy around the ranch, visiting with the foreman to see how the stables were running in particular, and taking a ride over the property to check the fences, just like a real cowboy would.
But there was something he’d started to realize since Laurel had appeared in his life—he hadn’t actually come to Red Rock to play rancher. He’d begun to feel differently about the ranch in a way he couldn’t identify yet.
When cocktail hour rolled around, Sawyer cleaned up and put on a suit. Usually, he avoided them like...well, the plague. But tonight he donned something that spoke to his casual yet tasteful needs a little better—a tailored Hugo Boss ensemble that allowed him to skip the tie but include the black jacket and trousers. He also carefully combed back his hair, just to make it look like he was putting out as much effort for this small party as his brothers and sister had.
He drove a short way over the ranch road to a new building that he’d had constructed just for the purpose of socializing—a large, enclosed gazebo that would be perfect for throwing soirees and barbecues.
And a wedding, he thought. His brothers’ reception was set to take place here.
A barbecue was already going outside the gazebo tonight, though, and as Sawyer pulled up to where some other cars were parked, he could see a small catering staff manning a couple of grills.
The smell of beef brisket floated on the air as he got out of his car and glanced around. He wasn’t sure what Laurel drove, but all he saw were his family’s rides.
His chest clenched—was she going to come tonight? He’d texted her party details this morning, and all he’d gotten back was a mysterious smiley face.
That was good, wasn’t it?
Shane and Asher, who’d already shed their suit jackets, were on the steps of the gazebo. Sawyer couldn’t see who was inside just yet.
“Birthday boy!” Shane said, welcoming Sawyer with a hearty pat on the back.
Asher smiled at Sawyer, a beer in one hand. “Jace says
happy birthday, too. I told him I’d save him some cake.”
“I’ll deliver it to him personally,” Sawyer said.
His four-year-old nephew would just have to settle for some birthday time with his uncle away from this cocktail hour. But Jace wouldn’t mind—Sawyer had promised to celebrate with him at Six Flags soon.
Shane pushed him inside the gazebo. Sawyer saw his brother Wyatt by the manned bar first, dressed in a suit that looked more like something a rancher from the Old West would wear than garb for a former VP of JMF Financial. He was pouring champagne into their younger sister, Victoria’s, flute. She looked as darling as ever, with her curly brown hair flowing over her shoulders and wearing a red, summery designer dress.
They cheerily wished Sawyer a happy birthday, too, as everyone else got up from the tables to greet him: Lia Serrano, Shane’s fiancée, who was pregnant out to here. Marnie McCafferty, Asher’s intended. Sarah-Jane Early, Wyatt’s future wife. And last but never least, Garrett Stone, Victoria’s cowboy husband.
Shane gestured around the room. “This was as small as we could get it, Sawyer.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt smiled, his arm around Sarah-Jane. “But no matter how many times Sawyer demands a low-profile birthday party, I’m still surprised. He’s supposed to be our wild man.”
“It’s just another year to add to the rest,” Sawyer said.
Lately he’d begun wondering if there was something else to his dislike of big birthday shindigs. Had he always wanted to avoid drawing attention to the fact that he hadn’t accomplished as much as the rest of the Fortunes, year by year? That he hadn’t gone much of anywhere in life from one birthday to the next?
Asher had nudged him toward the gift table. “Mom wanted you to open her present first.”
Of course their mother would’ve sent something ahead of her arrival tomorrow.
“Don’t you mean her and Dad’s gift?” Victoria asked.
Asher shrugged.
Wyatt spoke to his siblings. “Should we just tell him before he opens it?”
“Tell me what?” Sawyer asked.
Asher made a slightly embarrassed gesture as everyone else looked at Sawyer with sympathy. Great—was it going to be one of these nights?
“She’d planned to be here,” Asher said. “She made arrangements when she called Victoria the other day, and it was supposed to be a surprise.”
Shane said, “You know how we feel about Dad right now. We weren’t sure you’d want him here, either, so we made it clear that he should probably seek a little forgiveness before strolling into a party as if nothing ever happened.”
So his brothers had decided for Sawyer that their father wasn’t welcome at this party. And why not? They didn’t want him at their triple wedding, and they’d been the ones to plan things tonight.
Even so, Sawyer chafed a little at their presumption, even if they thought they were just looking out for him.
“It’s okay,” Sawyer said, blowing everything off with a smile that felt forced. “You guys are here. Mom tried to be. Life is good.”
Everyone just stood there, as if they all knew that it really wasn’t very okay.
But Victoria saved the moment.
“I’m supposed to call Mom when we sing ‘Happy Birthday’ so she can be a part of the festivities. She really did bust her buns to make it here, Sawyer, but there was bad weather, and it kept her away.”
Sawyer believed it. But a part of him wanted to ask, And Dad? Would he have tried just as hard if he’d been invited?
Hell, it was no shock that James Marshall Fortune hadn’t defied everyone for something as insignificant as his youngest and most disappointing son’s birthday.
“Really, you all,” Sawyer said, wearing that same smile. “It’s fine.”
“Sawyer...” Wyatt began.
But someone made a shushing sound, and his family turned around, looking toward the entrance.
They parted just enough for Sawyer to see what had drawn their attention.
Laurel.
She was standing there holding a small gift-wrapped box, her blond hair cascading over one shoulder. Then he took in what she was wearing—a dark blue, wispy, one-shouldered dress that came to just above her knees, with strappy silver pumps and beaded accessories.
It felt as if the oxygen had been crushed out of him. A lady. A beautiful vision.
Then again, she’d be breathtaking whether she was in jeans or a flight suit or a dress. Cocktail attire didn’t make her any different from the Laurel who didn’t wear makeup and liked to drink soda at bars.
He would have her any way she came.
But just as a smile was overtaking him, he realized that she’d probably been standing there in time to overhear all the talk about Mom and Dad not showing up.
As usual, Sawyer pushed the embarrassment down deep, where she would never see it.
Where it would only have to come out when he knew that no one else was looking.
* * *
Laurel was perfectly aware that Sawyer and his entire family were staring at her as if she was a made-over Cinderella who’d entered the ball. And part of her was flooded with the joy of seeing him again.
Seeing him looking at her as if she was the most desirable woman in the world.
But that wasn’t a new thing from Sawyer. He seemed to yearn for her when she was wearing plain clothes, too.
It was definitely a happy moment...except for the part where she’d heard everything they’d been saying about his parents not being here.
He’d seemed especially stiff at the news of his dad’s absence, raising his chin, even though he’d been smiling.
But as he walked that confident walk past his family and toward her, her heart tumbled, and she forgot about everything except this moment. It was best that way, anyway, because his personal business wasn’t her business.
But still...
“You made it,” Sawyer said while, behind him, every partygoer checked her out.
Years of wanting to blend in made her tug at her dress with her free hand, until she caught on to what she was doing.
His family seemed to realize that they were gawking, and they began to chat with each other. Thank God.
“I was unfairly persuaded to attend,” she said once Sawyer was standing next to her. She wanted to lighten up the gray mood that had hovered over the room a minute ago. “See, a package arrived this morning, and it had this dress in it, among other things.”
“All courtesy of Jasmine.”
His gaze was so direct, so hot, that she could barely think straight.
She tilted her head. “So you were making arrangements with her to shop for me when I left you two alone.”
“What, did you think I was sweeping her off her feet instead? Ye of little faith.”
Was he waiting for her to specifically mention the sauciest item that’d been in the package? Something sheer and incredibly revealing?
She decided to let him stew about the bodysuit. Instead, she held out the gift box she’d wrapped that morning. “Happy birthday, Sawyer.”
As he took it from her, his mouth lifted at the corners, only slightly, as if he hadn’t expected her to bring him anything.
She said, “It’s the least I can do with what you’ve already given me. And thank you for all of it, by the way.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
He shook the gift, and it reminded her of what Tanner and Parker used to do during birthdays and Christmases when they’d barely been able to eke out presents for one another because her family had been so broke.
“It’s not much,” she said. “I knew I should get you something that you wanted rather than needed, right? What else could I get a Fortune?”
His answering look nearly floored her: raw desire. A wanting that collided with need, creating sparks.
I’d take you gift-wrapped, that look said.
She searched for something to remark on, ending up with, “It’s just a certificate fo
r those flying lessons.”
He reached out and took her fingers in his. “Thank you, Laur.”
Why did it sound as if she’d gotten him the only thing he’d ever wanted? Was he so charming that he could make any girl believe what he wanted her to?
Yes, and she needed to remember that.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her toward his family. “Be a party person. Mingle.”
But it seemed as if there were other Fortunes who’d gotten the same idea even before Sawyer had.
Shane, the oldest brother, had already ambled over, intercepting them.
He introduced himself, although there wasn’t much of a need for it. Laurel had seen this dark-haired, blue-eyed Fortune all over the papers, just like the others. And what do you know, every Fortune guy was a hunk.
No one more than Sawyer, though, she thought, falling into small talk with Shane as Sawyer opened her present and sent her another thank-you grin.
For the rest of the night, she did mingle. And she laughed more than she thought she would, especially at Victoria’s liveliness and Asher’s stories about his young, spirited son, Jace.
By the time everyone started to filter out of the gazebo, Laurel wondered why she’d ever been reluctant about coming here. Fortunes didn’t bite.
Sawyer escorted her outside, where night had fallen over the expanse of grass, leaving a sparkle of stars over the sky.
“I’m assuming you drove,” he said, “even though I offered to send a driver for you.”
“Thanks for the gesture, but I didn’t see a reason to be chauffeured around. Remember—I don’t drink before I fly the next day.”
“Which one is yours?”
She gestured toward her old green pickup, and before he could comment on her rolling bundle of paint and wheels, she said, “It gets me where I’m going.”
“I wasn’t about to degrade it. It’s got character.”
“And a broken heater. Luckily, it’s not winter yet.”
“Hey, if you need to keep warm, you know where to come.”
She was already all warmed up.
But she doubted they’d be hanging around together when winter arrived. She didn’t say it, though, because he’d taken her hands in his, running his thumbs over her skin.
A CHANGE OF FORTUNE Page 7