His generosity had caught her off guard. So had the mature way he’d accepted her decision to forego making love. While she was still convinced that she’d made the right decision, she had to admit she hadn’t expected him to be so understanding. Much less to come home the way he had earlier and announce he intended to cook her dinner.
His graciousness made her feel a little guilty. Not that she regretted her decision to abstain from sex. Or wished he’d put up more of a fuss. But he was being so nice, that it didn’t feel right not to reciprocate…
“I don’t think I thanked you this morning,” she said, taking a bite of her salad.
“For what?”
“For being so understanding about my needing a place to study.”
He dismissed his actions with a graceful wave of his hand. “It’s no big deal. Although, I was thinking…”
She looked at him warily. “What?”
“Just that you might want to take a leave of absence from your job. That way you could concentrate on school for the next few weeks.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t what she’d expected. “That’s a nice idea. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure the management of the Corral has never heard the term ‘leave of absence.’ You either work for them or you don’t. And even if they had, I need the money.”
“Angelica, come on. I have enough for both of us, and if there’s anything you want or need, all you have to do is say so. Or if you’re not comfortable with that, I’ll set up an account for you that’s all your own. Whatever you want. Trust me.”
There he went again, being kind. And the worst of it was, she was actually tempted to take him up on his generous offer. Thanks to her pregnancy and the emotional turmoil of the past few months, she was tired. It would be nice not to work, to let someone look out for her for a change. And yet…
“I don’t know, Riley. Maybe it was the way I grew up, but when someone says trust me, that’s the last thing I’m inclined to do.”
To her surprise, instead of taking offense, he gave her a slow, wicked grin. “Okay, forget trust me. But you can trust this.” His voice altered subtly, getting a little deeper, the cadence slowing. “I’ll take real good care of you. I promise.”
The words were perfectly innocent, the offer endearing, at least on the surface. But that voice… To her chagrin she was suddenly thinking about skilled fingers and satin sheets. Shifting restlessly on her chair, she told herself not to be foolish. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Sure.” He let it go as easy as that and took another sip of his wine. “What’s your major, anyway?”
“Sociology and child psych.”
He leaned forward and studied her with obvious interest. “What do you want to do with it?”
“I’d like to do outreach work with disadvantaged kids.”
“Like you were?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“I see.” The way he said it made her think he really did, that he understood her desire to help children growing up the way she had. But before she could decide how she felt about it, he surprised her anew. “You do realize poor kids aren’t the only ones with problems, I hope.”
His expression was mild, but there was suddenly something oddly guarded in the depths of his clear gray eyes. “Yes, of course. But poverty creates its own unique set of problems.”
He inclined his head. “I’m sure it does. But having money doesn’t solve everything, either. There’s a lot of pressure to measure up, to always do the right thing.”
She considered him, realizing with a faint shock that he was talking about himself. Not sure what to say, and sensing from the way he was suddenly twisting his wineglass in his fingers that he was already regretting the extent to which he’d revealed himself, she made an impulsive decision to switch gears. “Did your sister-in-law get ahold of you? She called here earlier, and I told her you were at the office.”
“Cynthia?” His fingers stilled. “Yeah. We talked.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. I just thought… Isn’t she your attorney?”
“Yeah.”
“Has there been news about your case?”
“If you mean, has she made like Perry Mason and found the person who’s really to blame for your brother’s death and cleared my name yet, the answer is no.”
Despite his nonchalant tone, there was something in the set of his chin, the sudden tautness around his mouth that suggested he wasn’t nearly as unconcerned about the subject as he wanted her to believe. Not that it surprised her. As she’d already realized, there was more to Riley than simply a great body and a handsome face.
For half a second she actually considered telling him what she suspected about Mike, but she swiftly caught herself. After all, she didn’t have proof that her brother had actually been involved in any wrongdoing, only a feeling. And even if she discovered something in the future, it might not prove to have any bearing on his murder. The last thing she wanted was to give Riley false hopes.
On the other hand, she felt a renewed urgency to go through Mike’s things—no matter how painful it might be. After all, Riley was her baby’s father. Despite their ongoing differences, she didn’t want him to go to prison. Or for their child to grow up thinking its father was a murderer.
Suddenly aware that she’d been silent too long, she said abruptly, “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “There’s no reason for you to be.” There was an awkward silence that ended as he pushed back his chair and stretched out his legs. “I dropped by my folks earlier.”
“Oh. Did you tell them about us?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What did they say?”
“At first, they were…surprised. But then when I explained about the pregnancy, they understood.”
Angelica could just imagine what his parents “understood.” Not knowing what to say, she took a sip of milk from her glass, grateful as Cosmo suddenly lumbered into sight.
The big shaggy dog gave her a brief look, but chose Riley for his main target, crowding close and staring at him with a pitiful look that said clearly, “Feed me, please, I’m starving.”
Riley considered the dog’s hopeful countenance, then glanced uncertainly at Angelica. “Didn’t he like the dog food I bought him?”
“Oh, I think he did,” she said dryly. “He licked the bowl clean. The sad truth is he’ll eat anything, much less an expensive gourmet brand.”
“Ah.” Riley reconsidered the beast. “So he’s just looking for a patsy?”
“Right.”
“Hey, I can do that.” Taking her by surprise, he broke off a chunk of chicken. Before she could protest, he offered it to the dog, which promptly wolfed it down in a single bite.
“Riley, don’t! He’s not supposed to beg at the table. And you’re not supposed to feed him.”
“Even if I just made a friend for life?”
“Yes.” It was a struggle to look stern. “Although I suppose I can forgive you, since you’re being so nice about having him here.”
“I like dogs.”
“Even if they don’t exactly go with your decor?”
“Even then.” He drained the last of his wine and set his beautifully etched crystal goblet back on the table. “Houses are meant to be lived in. And unlike the dog I had as a kid, he seems like a pretty mellow guy. He should be fine with the baby.”
She pictured him as a little boy, and not too surprisingly was instantly charmed. “You had a dog?”
“Sure. His name was Jake.”
Intrigued, she asked, “What happened to him?”
“We had to get rid of him after my sister Isabelle was born. He was big and sort of hyper, and when she started to walk he was always knocking her down and jumping on her, which didn’t go over too well with my mother.”
“That must’ve been hard.”
He negligently hitched a shoulder. “I survived. And it was probably for the b
est. I was a real trial to my folks, always getting into trouble. Without Jake around, I spent more time with my brother, who they always considered a civilizing influence.”
Out of nowhere, she had the oddest urge to reach over, push back the inky strand of hair that fell over his forehead and comfort him somehow. Which was utterly ridiculous. She’d never known a person more capable of taking care of himself than Riley Fortune.
A point that was driven home as his mouth suddenly tipped up in an impish grin. “Though I’ve got to admit, if it’d been left up to me, I would’ve voted to get rid of Isabelle.”
She felt that smile clear to her toes and couldn’t help but respond with one of her own. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
Their eyes met. After a few seconds, his dark lashes drooped a fraction, giving him a heavy-lidded look that was all male.
She flushed as she realized she was squeezing her thighs together in reaction. “Well.” She forced herself to look away from him, pushed back her chair and grabbed her plate. “I’d better get started on these dishes.”
He stood. “I’ll help.”
It was the last thing she wanted. “That’s all right. I can take care of it.”
“I insist.” His fingers grazed hers as they both reached for the basket of rolls. “I like to finish what I start.”
Why did that sound more like a threat than a simple declaration? she wondered as she snatched back her tingling hand and hurried toward the kitchen. “If you say so.” Biting her lip, she told herself to get a grip.
It was easier said than done. She heard him approach, then froze as he leaned around her to set the basket on the counter. The heat of his body enveloped her; so did his scent. She fought the urge to just let go and melt against him. “Riley?”
“Hmm?” He braced his hand and leaned even closer, his face so intent as he gazed down at her that she was sure he was going to kiss her.
“If you really don’t mind about the dishes—” she ducked her head and scooted to safety beneath his arm “—I think I’ll go study.”
He slowly straightened. For a second she thought she saw a hint of frustration flash across his face, but then it was gone. But all he said was, “No problem.”
She didn’t wait around to see if he changed his mind.
Six
“Angelica?” Riley strode through the quiet house, wondering where his wife was.
He’d already checked the bedrooms, the pool, the living and family rooms, to no avail. He supposed she might have gone for a walk, although with Cosmo asleep behind the chair in the family room as usual it seemed unlikely. That left the possibility that she’d driven somewhere. Walking past the utility room, he opened the door to the garage to check.
A wave of warm, stuffy air, and the sight of her car, greeted him. For a moment he was perplexed, and then a movement to his left caught his eye. Looking over to where he’d had the overflow of her belongings stacked, he spotted her seated cross-legged on the concrete floor. Next to her was an open box and several stacks of papers. “There you are.”
She looked up, her cheeks flushed from the heat that lay over the room like a blanket. “Riley.”
“What are you doing?”
She hesitated, a flash of something almost furtive crossing her face. “Looking for some class notes.”
“Any luck?”
“Not yet.”
“You don’t have to sort through this stuff out here, you know. If you show me which boxes you want to go through, I’ll be happy to move them into one of the spare bedrooms later.”
Inexplicably, she hesitated again before nodding. “Thanks. That’d be nice.” Her gazed raked over him, a frown creasing her brow as she took in his fresh slacks and black polo shirt. “I thought you were going to play racquetball this morning.”
“I did.” Never one for organized sport, he’d discovered a few years ago that the game was a great way to burn off his aggressions and keep in shape. “I showered and changed at the club afterward.”
“Oh. So how was it? The game, I mean?”
“Fine. Rowan’s not nearly as good as he thinks he is.”
“Rowan?”
“Brad Rowan. Isabelle’s fiancé. My opponent.”
A frown marred her brow. “You don’t like him?”
He stared at her, surprised by her insight. Not that he had any intention of admitting he had reservations about his sister’s intended. Much less confiding that he wished he felt better about Isabelle’s reasons for getting married in the first place. Baring his soul wasn’t his style. And even if it had been, now definitely wasn’t the time. “He’s okay. It doesn’t really matter what I think as long as he makes my sister happy. Speaking of my family, we have company.”
“We do? Who?”
“My mother. She drove in right after I did and informed me she wants to meet you.”
“Your mother’s here?” She scrambled to her feet, trying—and failing—to mask her dismay.
“I know it’s lousy timing—”
“Do you think?” She reached down to tug at the hem of her shorts. “Or are you just now noticing that I’m not exactly dressed for company.”
She had a point. She was a little dusty. And her baby blue tank top, navy shorts and rubber flip-flops were definitely on the casual side. On the other hand, it wasn’t as if she were naked or anything. And since his mother wasn’t about to leave, they really didn’t have a choice except to make the best of it—and be damned grateful his dad was playing golf and hadn’t come, too.
He cleared his throat. “Try to relax. My mother’s a lot more interested in who you are than what you’re wearing.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” she murmured, scooping up the papers scattered around her and dumping them back in the box. Dusting her hands on her shorts, she straightened her spine and walked toward him, her lips pursed.
He stepped back to give her some room, feeling a strange combination of sympathy for her anxiety and admiration for her willingness to see it through anyway.
And then she brushed past him and a third, more elemental emotion came over him as her bare arm rubbed against his. He jerked back, annoyed by his inability to stop the prickle of desire that sliced through him at even that innocent touch.
His annoyance didn’t improve as he found himself following her down the hallway, with nowhere to look except at her bare, slender legs, shapely fanny and the tops of her golden-skinned shoulder blades.
It should have been a relief to reach the family room. And it would have been, if not for the sight that greeted him.
His mother was seated on the couch where he’d left her, looking less than thrilled as Cosmo pressed up against her, his front feet planted on the sofa cushion, his tail wagging happily as he energetically sniffed the front of her elegant lavender pantsuit. “It appears you’ve acquired a pet.” Although she managed a smile, her voice was strained.
Angelica sucked in a horrified breath. “Cosmo, no! Get down, right now.”
To his credit, the dog instantly obeyed. Backing away, he sent a shamed look his mistress’s way that left no doubt he knew he’d misbehaved and slunk sheepishly toward his place behind the chair. So great was his contrition that it would’ve been funny if not for Angelica’s distress.
“I’m so sorry,” she said fervently, her eyes dark with anxiety as she addressed his mother. “I can’t imagine what got into him. He’s usually much better behaved.”
Riley laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Mom’s tougher than she looks.”
Both women sliced him looks; Angelica’s was unconvinced, his mother’s first reproachful, then thoughtful as her gaze slid from his face to his hand—and finally to his wife. “Riley’s right. After all, I survived raising him, which was no small feat.”
“Some countries give medals of bravery for less,” he said, only half-kidding. “Mom, this is Angelica. Angelica, my mother, Joan.”
His mother inclined her head. “Hello, Ange
lica.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fortune.” Angelica tried, but she suspected her smile was strained at best. Although she knew she was overreacting, seeing Riley and his mother together, both so polished and good-looking, and hearing them banter in a way that would’ve been unimaginable in the household she’d grown up in, made her feel awkward and out of place, like the trailer park kid she’d been.
“Call me Joan, please. I apologize for dropping in unannounced this way, but I didn’t want to wait another day to welcome you to the family.”
More likely to check her out, Angelica found herself thinking. Not that she blamed the older woman. Although the Fortunes were known for their family loyalty, she strongly doubted she was what this stylish woman had envisioned for a daughter-in-law. “That’s very kind of you,” she managed, giving a little jump of surprise as Riley nudged her toward one of the club chairs, then lowered himself onto the matching ottoman.
She sat and tried to relax, not easy given the situation and his proximity.
“We were all very sorry about your brother,” Joan said quietly.
“Thank you.”
“Are you getting settled in?”
“Yes. I was just doing some unpacking.” She regretted the words the instant she said them, since they sounded exactly like what they were: an apology for her grubby attire.
Riley’s mother didn’t seem to notice. Instead, a faint frown creased her brow. “I do hope you weren’t moving anything heavy. You have to take care of yourself, you know.”
In your condition. Joan may not have said the words out loud, but Angelica got the picture. She drew herself up a little taller. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the baby.”
“Of course not,” the other woman said quickly.
You wouldn’t dream of it, since that’s the only reason my son married you. Angelica clasped her hands tightly together and told herself fiercely to quit putting words in the other woman’s mouth. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her.
Husband–Or Enemy? (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 4) Page 6