A CHANGE OF FORTUNE

by Crystal Green

  “Sometimes I do,” she said. “I liked having you up there with me, though. You obviously loved it. And I think that it helped you to...”

  Her tone had gone a little dark.

  “What?”

  She shook her head, waved her comment away. “I don’t want to bring the room down.”

  He guessed at what she’d probably been about to say. “You think that my time up in the air with you cleared my head and made me forget about today’s family meeting. Well, mission accomplished.”

  As she gauged him, he sat up. Might as well get this talk out of the way since he’d come here to relieve his soul to her in the first place. He hadn’t known his purpose in wanting to see Laurel at first, but he’d figured it out quickly enough after he’d caught sight of her near the snack bar.

  “I know you walked into my cocktail party last night just as some of our Fortune family drama was swirling around,” he said. “You heard that my parents couldn’t make it.”

  “I heard that your mom tried.”

  “Yeah. But I wasn’t sure about my dad’s intentions.”

  It looked as if she was deciding whether they should be talking about something this personal or not. But he wanted her to hear it, because if not her, then who?

  The thought rattled him, but in a good way, rearranging his head just as the flight had.

  “All my life,” he said, “I’ve had to keep up with my brothers. And you can imagine what a Herculean task that was. They’re perfect. So I had a lot to live up to. My dad’s expectations were like a giant weight on me, so I would test him, see what I could get away with as the youngest son. When I realized that there was a hell of a lot he could tolerate because my brothers did enough to keep him proud, I started to...I don’t know. ‘Go with the flow’ is a good way of putting it. Accept the status quo of my being the brother who was expendable.”

  Laurel came around her desk, closer to his chair. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “That I’m not of much value?” He smiled. “It’s okay. It’s always been a thing with my dad. But outside school and the office...now, that’s where I seemed to excel.”

  “Oh. You mean in a personal life. I’m sure your charm did wonders for it.”

  “Maybe so.”

  The light had come back into her eyes, the kind that told him she was still on some sort of high.

  But was it because she’d been up in that plane...or because she was standing so close to him?

  Or both?

  He finished up what he’d started. “As far as my dad goes, there were times I felt that he devalued me because of how I avoided his expectations. It’s been that way for years, but today...today something happened, even during all the ugliness of our family meeting. Today I think he saw that I can ease the way between him and my brothers and sister, that my laid-back attitude is good for something besides smooth-talking my way through his company’s PR gauntlet.”

  Laurel was smiling down at him, and it was genuine, as if she was happy that he had finally started to figure things out for himself.

  Out of some kind of pure emotion—he still didn’t know what the hell it was—he raised a hand, touching the side of her khaki-covered leg, carelessly running his fingers to the back of her thigh ever so lightly.

  As if caught off balance, she reached out, grabbing his shoulder. “Sawyer...”

  She still had that look on her face—the contrail of exhilaration. A remaining glint in her eyes that probably matched his.

  Screw all the serious conversation, he thought, tracing his fingers up the back of her leg until he got to the base of her spine, then palming her and pushing her forward so that she landed in his lap with a gasp.

  He slid his other hand around her waist, then down and over the curve of her derriere. She bit her lip, looking as if she was deciding what should come next.

  And what shouldn’t.

  But he could see the wild blue sky in her eyes, still making her fly, and before he knew it, she’d dug her fingers into his hair and bent down to kiss him.

  It was hard and soft at the same time. He couldn’t tell which, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around the sensation well enough to puzzle it out.

  Not that it mattered, because there was more to her kiss than ever before. A hint of uncontained passion.

  An invitation.

  When she ended it, she kept her lips against his, her hand at his nape.

  “I keep thinking this is a bad idea,” she said on a breath.

  He slid his fingers down her thigh, then partway up again, and she put her hand on top of his.

  “You might’ve started something that’ll be tough to stop,” he said, grit in his tone. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

  “Maybe I did.”

  And she kissed him again, sending him spinning like a buzz saw. She sucked on his bottom lip and disengaged from him, but still kept her mouth against his.

  “Maybe,” she said, “you ought to come over tonight.”

  He went into a fevered haze, not even thinking to ask what time she wanted him at her apartment as she slyly got up from his lap, ruffled his hair and walked out the door.

  Leaving him rocking and rolling and dying for more.

  * * *

  Once Laurel had made quick time to her pickup, she had the presence of mind to text Sawyer.

  All she typed was 7:00.

  But she had no doubt it’d be enough information.

  She squealed out of the parking lot and headed straight home.

  Still having a couple of hours before the appointed time, she cleaned like a dervish—there were folded clothes on the sofa from where she’d been watching the Food Network that morning. And the knickknacks she’d picked up from her travels—everything from a Tower of London snow globe to a music box from Prague—were a little dusty, so she took a rag and polished them.

  After the world’s quickest vacuuming job and a sprint to change her sheets, she hopped in the shower, finally taking a breather.

  She’d done it—invited a guy over to her place for the first time in years. It was almost as if she was primping for a first date as she blow-dried her hair until it was hanging straight down her back, put on the sangria-shaded lipstick she occasionally wore and slapped some red nail polish on her toes.

  When she went to her kitchen to prepare some food for her and Sawyer, she second-guessed herself.

  Would tonight be all about eating? Sitting around with cocktails and sharing intimate stories?

  No. She’d gotten a couple intimate stories from Sawyer today, and she still wasn’t sure that she should’ve been listening to them. Yes, her heart had gone out to him about his relationship with his dad, but she was so numb when it came to her own sperm donor that she’d been crossing her fingers that their conversation wouldn’t extend into Redmond territory.

  Tonight, she decided, wasn’t about baring souls. It was about those benefits they’d talked about before. After flying with Sawyer, it’d seemed natural to arrive at this destination with him, her hormones growling, her sex drive revved and finally ready.

  Pure sex, she thought. And that was all that would happen.

  She stood in front of her closet and...damn, it was unlike her to vacillate about what she was going to wear on any given day.

  Casual jeans and a T-shirt? A sage-green summer dress she hadn’t put on since Juliet’s anniversary party three years ago?

  Laurel’s gaze traveled to a chair by her bed, where she’d draped one of Sawyer’s birthday gifts.

  The charcoal bodysuit.

  She went over to it, coasting her fingers over the sheer material and floral appliqués. It was delicate, beautiful, something she would never have pictured herself wearing.

  On an urge she couldn’t resist—she’d had a lot of those lately—she donned the bodysuit, then looked in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door and held her breath as she got a load of herself.

  She seemed...seductive. Yeah—this
was really her in the mirror, embracing her sexuality as she never had before.

  Seductive and full of heat.

  When she heard her doorbell, she glanced at the clock, her heart in her throat.

  Seven o’clock on the nose.

  Where had the time gone?

  Not knowing what else to do, she darted to her closet, tugged the summer dress off its hanger, pulled it over her head and sprinted barefoot over the carpet to the door.

  When she opened it, her heartbeat circled in her chest.

  Sawyer had showered, too, if his wet brown hair gave her any clue, and he was wearing a fresh beige Western shirt, jeans and his boots.

  But he was bearing gifts again, and as he gestured to the shopping bag with red roses peeking out from the top, he grinned.

  “You’re out of breath, Laur.”

  “I ran to the door. You’re a prompt one, aren’t you?”

  The gleam in his gaze told her that he would’ve gotten here a lot sooner if she’d suggested it.

  She showed him in, and he glanced around her utilitarian apartment at her knickknacks, her framed photos that she’d taken of places like Ostia Antica near Rome and Japanese pagodas, her Ikea furniture. Then he went to her kitchen counter, setting down the bag and unloading it.

  First, he handed her the roses. “For the birthday girl.”

  “Thank you.”

  She smelled them and went to get a vase from a cabinet, all too aware of her bare feet and red toenails. They made her feel summery and sexy, her nerves flaring with every moment that passed.

  He put two bottles on the counter—chilled champagne and sparkling cider—plus a cake box.

  “You didn’t,” she said.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He thought of everything. She couldn’t say as much for herself, though.

  “I didn’t have time to cook, I’m afraid.” Man, was she out of practice with this date stuff.

  But all she’d been able to think about had been her libido. She wasn’t sure he’d complain about that, though.

  He was sweeping a deliberate gaze from her painted toenails, then up her legs, her waist, her chest, to her face. By the time he was done, she was red all over.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “Oh?” How did he get her to blush all the time? “This is such an old dress. I never wear it.”

  “You should. Actually, you should wear more dresses. You’ve got the legs for them.”

  If another guy had offered her such a blatant charm-filled line, she would’ve smacked him. But Sawyer could get away with just about anything with her.

  Especially tonight.

  He opened the cake box, and she came over to take a peek inside.

  It was small but fancy, reminding her of a wedding cake. The icing had her name written over it in red gel, making her think that Laurel sort of looked like a stretched-out heart.

  But she was seeing things.

  “Sawyer, you don’t have to try so hard, you know.” Still, she was secretly pleased to be treated so well. She wasn’t used to it.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said, “but when I got to the bakery counter at the market, this cake was the freshest thing they had left. They frosted over the top so it would look as if it was made for you. It’s all they could do at the last minute.”

  “It’s great.” She wickedly sneaked a finger full of icing from the bottom, tasting it, but he didn’t seem to mind. “If this was bigger, I’d say that someone didn’t pick up their wedding cake.”

  “You’re right. This is the top layer. They gutted the thing for us.” He raised a brow. “I wonder if this is an indication that there’ll be a run of disastrous wedding plans for Red Rock.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I got home, Shane let me know that my three brothers are still threatening to bar Dad from their wedding. This cake could be an omen.”

  Was he about to sink into the dumps? It didn’t seem like it, but then again, it’d occurred to her before that Sawyer was pretty good at hiding his real feelings, wearing a grin instead of a frown.

  With her clean hand, she laid her palm on his arm, smiling, letting him know that he shouldn’t worry about a thing.

  His answering smile was real—she knew enough about him by now to tell.

  Her heart fluttering, she continued to lighten the mood, taking another finger full of icing, holding it up, and from the glimmer in his eyes, he was wondering what she was going to do with it.

  “Your brothers should just elope,” she said. “Weddings are only a bunch of trouble and overrated, anyway. And marriage...?”

  He took up the teasing. “Marriage just leads to expectations that simply can’t be fulfilled.”

  “There goes our shared mind again.”

  “That’s what happens when you’re the last two people standing after the Red Rock Plague.”

  They laughed, but his mirth died when she eased her finger into her mouth, sucking off the icing. She didn’t look at him while she did it—she merely acted as if this was how birthday girls in summer dresses and red-painted toenails frittered away their time.

  She could feel his gaze burning into her. Good.

  “Know what’s funny?” she asked after she’d swallowed.

  Suddenly, he was busy with the champagne, unwrapping the foil from its top. “What?”

  Poor guy. She might have to take it easy on him tonight.

  Right.

  “When I was young,” she said, “I had this group of friends. They were very girly-girl. We played dolls and dressed in all our moms’ clothes when they weren’t home, pretending we were grown-ups. I just kind of went along with everything—I didn’t want to be the weird kid on the block, especially since I was a couple grades ahead of everyone and already kind of a freak for my age. But when we got a little older, they went through a phase where they’d come up with bridal fantasies and revel in sharing them.”

  She went to a cabinet and brought out two flutes for the drinks, but she began to open the sparkling cider for herself since tomorrow was a flying day.

  “Did you have a fantasy?” Sawyer asked.

  “A half-baked one. I didn’t put much creativity into it—the game bored me too much. Plus, I was reading Jane Eyre at the time, so I borrowed a description of the kind of gown she would’ve worn. Mr. Rochester said he would ‘dress her in jewels and in finery befitting her new social station.’ The girls loved that, except...well, you know me—I just had to add that Jane freaked out at Mr. Rochester’s promise because she had a bad feeling about the wedding.”

  “I guess because, from what you saw with your mom’s marriage, matrimony never works out.”

  Laurel swiveled their conversation around.

  “Here,” she said, pouring the cider into her glass. “Let’s make another toast, just like we did when we said we’d avoid the Red Rock Plague.”

  After she grabbed the champagne and poured some for him, they lifted their flutes.

  “To living in reality,” she said.

  He angled his head, and she didn’t know what he was thinking as they clinked glasses and drank.

  Had she blown them back into intimate talk by expanding on the subject of weddings?

  Dammit, she wasn’t going to see this night go by without doing what she wanted to do with Sawyer, so she put down her flute and leaned on the counter, hoping he’d see what she was wearing under her dress.

  When his gaze heated on a flare of passion, she knew that she’d taken the right, seductive step.

  * * *

  She was wearing the lingerie he’d bought her.

  Sawyer’s blood beat a fierce tattoo in his veins as he tried to recover.

  Was she showing him the bodysuit on purpose?

  Based on the look in her eyes, steamy and willing, he’d say yes.

  And when she dipped her finger into the cake’s frosting once again, he couldn’t stop himself from imagining what it would tas
te like if he licked it off.

  She didn’t do anything with the frosting, merely crooking her finger as she tilted her head. “You didn’t happen to eat before you got here,” she said. “Did you?”

  The last thing he’d had on his mind had been real food—just birthday cake, flowers and Laurel.

  “I’m not all that hungry. For true grub, anyway.”

  “What are you in the mood for, then?”

  She waved her icing-coated finger, and he put his elbows on the counter until they were nearly face-to-face.

  “Cake sounds good,” he said, his gut tightening.

  “You’ll like the taste of this, then,” she said in a low voice.

  He took that as permission to get even closer to her, his mouth less than an inch from her finger. But just as his lips nearly touched her, she pulled her hand back, easing her finger into her own mouth, eating the frosting.

  “Mmm.”

  She was smiling, toying with him.

  But he was pretty good at this type of thing himself, so he glided his own finger around the edge of the cake.

  “That’s right,” she said. “Plenty there for you, too.”

  Before she could react, he reached out and swiped the icing down her nose.

  Her lips parted, as if she couldn’t believe he’d done that.

  He laughed.

  “You think that’s funny?” she asked.

  “I know that’s funny. No thinking about it. You’re real cute with a white streak down your nose, like a kid who fell face-first into the birthday table.”

  Her answer was to scoop another serving and dot it on his nose, too.

  “Oops,” she said. “Looks like you took a fall, too.”

  He was taking a fall, all right, and he feared it was for Laurel.

  But oddly, that didn’t scare him as much as it would’ve with anyone else. It was just a matter of course—an inevitability that had come crashing down on him so fast that he hadn’t seen it coming.

  Until now.

  Relieved that he’d finally admitted it, he kept the game going, getting more frosting on his thumb and smearing it over her mouth.

  This time, her laughter rang through the room as she made a dive for the whole cake.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, lunging for her before she got to it, taking her into his arms and crushing his mouth to hers.