A Fortune's Children Christmas (Anthology)

by Lisa Jackson; Barbara Boswell; Linda Turner

  Suddenly she was tongue-tied. “Hi,” she managed, wishing she hadn’t been so darned impulsive. What was she doing here? What possible excuse could she come up with? None. She had to go through with her plan.

  “Come in.” He held the door for her. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Uh, I just wanted some exercise.” Good Lord, she sounded like a moron. “I came over here because…because it’s Valentine’s Day and I bought a card for you and…I’m rambling aren’t I?” She unstrapped the baby, and Chase took her pack in his big hands. As she unzipped her jacket, he retrieved Angela from the pack. “I sound like a complete and utter ninny.”

  “Not at all.” But he couldn’t quite swallow his sudden smile, and his eyes, a second before so serious, lit with amusement. “She’s growing,” he observed as if to change the awkward conversation.

  “All the time.”

  His expression was gentle as he looked at the baby. “Don’t you think it’s too cold to take her outside?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t have taken the risk,” she replied. Chase’s concern for Angela touched her even if he was a little pushy about it.

  “They’re fragile.”

  “Of course they are. Believe me, I’m careful with her.”

  He nodded curtly. “I know you are.” She sensed he wanted to say something else, but bit his tongue.

  While he was paying attention to Angela, Lesley left the card on the table where she and he had shared so many meals. The drop leaf was covered with receipts, a general ledger book and calculator. “I thought I could repay you a little for all you’ve done for me,” she said. “I was hoping you might come to dinner.”

  His head snapped up. “Tonight?”

  “If it’s not a problem.”

  He hesitated, and Lesley’s heart plummeted as she realized he was trying to come up with an excuse, any excuse to decline. Oh, this was a stupid, impetuous idea. She should have asked him over any other night, but not tonight. Not on the night that was set aside each year for lovers.

  The phone rang before the silence had become too awkward, and balancing the baby, he plucked the receiver from its cradle and barked a cold, “Hello.” He managed a brief, soulless smile at Lesley while still holding Angela. “Oh, hi.” His shoulders relaxed. “Pretty good. Just tryin’ to turn this place around. Nothin’ much to report.” He laughed then, and the sound was rich and deep, reminding Lesley of the few times he’d relaxed during their week together. “Yeah, same to you. Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t worry. I’m fine, Kate…Lesley? She’s here right now.” He looked at her, and their gazes locked. “The baby’s doing great. Thanks, I will.” He hung up and walked to the woodstove where an enamel pot was sitting. “That was my great-aunt Kate,” he said, pouring two cups of coffee. “Checking up on me, her investment and you.”

  Still holding Angela in one arm, he handed one of the full cups to Lesley.

  “I’ve never met her. Why would she even ask about me?”

  “Maybe she’s just nosy.” Chuckling, he picked up his cup and thought for a minute. “I’m just kidding. She’s interested in everything that goes on here, and I told her about you and the baby.” He frowned a little, as if that particular thought bothered him, and Lesley took a long sip from her cup. The house was about the same as when she’d left, except that over the mantel there was a picture of a pretty blond woman holding a baby. As if drawn to the photo, Lesley walked to the fireplace. “Who’s this?” she asked. The woman’s hair was blowing in her face as she sat on a boulder, but she was smiling brightly and squinting into the sun.

  He hesitated. “That was Emily. My wife.”

  The words settled like doom in the cabin. “Your wife?” she said weakly, then gave herself a swift mental kick. Of course he’d been with other women. Why would it surprise her that he’d been married?

  “She’s holding my son.”

  “I, um, I didn’t know that—”

  “They’re both gone now,” he said, as if he needed to clear the air. “They died a few years back.”

  Her heart was suddenly heavy. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Chase, I’m so sorry,” she said, turning and seeing a glimpse of his anguish, a flash of tragic sorrow in his eyes, before his jaw was set again and that rigid wall of disinterest was firmly back in place.

  “I am, too,” he admitted, his voice thicker than usual.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “No reason to dwell on it,” he said, and before she could ask what happened, she realized the subject was closed and the cabin seemed colder somehow.

  “I didn’t even know you’d been married.”

  “As I said, I don’t think about it. It’s the past. Over and done.”

  “But it still hurts,” she said automatically, then wished she’d held her tongue as his expression shifted and he was once again the taciturn, unapproachable cowboy she’d first met weeks ago.

  “Oh. Well.” She took a long sip from her cup and made excuses to leave. If Chase wanted to shut her out, to pretend that the pain of his past didn’t exist, so be it. For the first time since the days right after Angela’s birth she felt out of place in the cabin that had once seemed so cozy.

  “What time’s dinner?” he asked, as she slid her arms through her jacket. So he was planning to come. She was surprised, but tried not to show it.

  “Whatever works for you. Seven?”

  “Fine. I’ll be there. You want a lift home?”

  She shook her head and yanked on her gloves. “The whole point of coming over here was to stretch some seldom-used muscles. I’ll see you later.” She placed Angela inside her front pack and felt a ridiculous bit of lightheartedness as she made her way back to her place.

  It was silly, really. Chase was her neighbor, a man who had helped her during a difficult time in her life. Nothing more. That’s the way he wanted it and the way she wanted it. But she hummed to herself as she cooked, and she paid special attention to cleaning the house.

  “Grow up,” she told herself angrily, but the smile that toyed at the corners of her mouth wouldn’t disappear.

  Chase kicked himself up one side and down the other as he drove the short distance to Lesley’s house. What was he doing accepting her invitation to dinner, feeling tense and excited and suddenly concerned about how close he’d shaved? He couldn’t get involved with her. Wouldn’t.

  And yet he couldn’t stop himself. He’d jumped at the chance to be alone with her and Angela again, read the funny card she’d left for him half a dozen times. He felt foolish arriving with a bottle of wine, like a schoolboy with a corsage for his prom date, but he hauled it with him nonetheless.

  She greeted him at the door, and he was stunned. He’d never seen her dressed up before. In a black skirt, white silk blouse and some kind of suede vest, she was more than striking. Her hair was pinned back, a touch of lipstick glistening on her lips, and a smile as warm as South Florida causing a dimple to crease one cheek. “I thought you might back out,” she teased.

  “Why would I do that?” He handed her the bottle of wine and she lifted an already-arched brow.

  “Just a feeling I got. That you’d rather avoid me.”

  He walked into her house and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Sometimes I think it would be wiser.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It keeps life less complicated.”

  “And that’s what you want? No complications?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve had more than my share.”

  Her smile faded slightly. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Chase. We all have. Come inside and take a load off. I’ll try to keep things uncomplicated for you.” He knew she was needling him, but he let it pass as he walked into the kitchen where he’d grown up. The house smelled of baked ham, scalloped potatoes and lemon in the form of a meringue pie that she cut after he’d devoured two helpings of the main course. True to her word, she kept the conversation light, and if she flirted with him at all,
it was at a shallow level that didn’t delve too deep. Several times he thought about bringing up the problem with granting her water rights, but the perfect moment never seemed to arise, and he didn’t want to spoil the mood of comradery they’d found.

  He even let a few of his old barriers break down and couldn’t resist the baby. She’d grown over the past month and a half, her eyes more focused, her tiny body filling out. Chase and Lesley played with Angela until she nodded off, and then they were completely alone.

  That’s when the trouble began.

  He knew he should leave, that being with her any longer was begging for a kind of trouble he didn’t want, but as they sat on the couch in the living room, the panes of the windows misting, candles flickering on the mantel, he couldn’t find the words to say goodbye.

  She was tense beside him, her leg close to his, her shoulder brushing his own. The room was too intimate, way too close. He yanked at the neck of his sweater. Couldn’t breathe.

  “I’m glad you came,” she said.

  “I’m glad you invited me.” Oh, hell, he sounded so stiff and formal.

  “I wish, I mean, I’d like—” She turned and stared deep into his eyes. “I don’t want you,” she said. “I…I don’t want this, but—”

  So there it was.

  “But—I do.”

  His mouth was dry as he stared into eyes that glimmered like a forest in the rain. “I know.”

  She licked her lips, and he was undone.

  His groin throbbed. His heart raced, and he saw her pupils widen as he slowly lowered his head. “This is a mistake,” he whispered.

  “A big one.” An enticing flush crept up her neck, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. Her lips parted willingly, her body molded to his, and if he felt any bit of resistance in her it quickly disappeared.

  Don’t do this, Fortune. Stop now, while you still can, a nagging voice inside his head insisted. But the kiss deepened and she let out a soft moan. His tongue slipped between her lips, his pulse raced and fire danced through his blood. One of his hands tangled in her hair, and her head lolled backward, exposing more of her throat. Deep inside, he began to burn, the heat between his legs becoming an ache. He slipped her vest off her shoulders and parted her blouse with fingers that felt clumsy with the small buttons.

  Her breasts were full and spilled over the top of her bra. He kissed each rounded mound, then lowered a lacy strap, exposing her nipple, dark and dusky, hard as a button. With a groan he lowered his head and suckled, his lips teasing, his tongue lapping and the taste of milk filling his mouth.

  Her fingers slid through his hair and held him close, her breath, in short pants, hot against his scalp.

  Though he knew he was making a mistake, fording a river he wouldn’t ever be able to cross again, he slipped her blouse and bra off her body, tossed his own sweater onto the growing heap of discarded clothes on the floor and kissed her everywhere. He half expected her to resist him, to tell him that she couldn’t continue with the madness of lovemaking, but she arched against him and as he eased her skirt over her hips, she quivered with desire. “Chase,” she said, but it wasn’t a protest.

  God, help me, he thought as she helped peel his jeans down his legs and he was naked as she, his body lying muscle to muscle over hers. Warm and willing, she stared up at him as he gently nudged her knees apart with his own.

  “Lesley,” he whispered, “sweet, sweet Lesley. I—”

  “Shh, Chase. This is good,” she said as if she could read the protests forming in his mind. Her eyes shined a vibrant green, her lush body was rosy with passion, her arms wrapped around his torso.

  His erection throbbed and he knew that she was the only woman on earth who could assuage the ache deep in his body, the only one who could soothe the anguish in his soul. Staring deep into her eyes, he thrust into the welcoming warmth of her body.

  She gave out a lusty cry, and he withdrew only to plunge forward again.

  “Please,” she whispered, tossing her head, her hair a fiery mass on the couch cushions. “Oh, please—”

  He didn’t stop. Sinew and muscle and bone seemed centered in that one spot between his legs. Sweat dotted his forehead and ran down his back. His brain thundered, his body strained as he held back, making love to her slowly until he saw the widening of her pupils. He felt the shift of her body beneath his, heard her breath catch, and he lost control. With a primal roar he let go, spilling himself inside her, feeling the release as he fell against her, flattening her breasts and kissing her as he’d never kissed another woman in all of his life.

  Seven

  “So, you’ve been seein’ a lot of Chase Fortune, eh?” Ray Mellon had stopped by and was leaning over the top rail of the fence that separated the barnyard from the garden, where Lesley was planting a row of corn. The May sun was warm, the earth smelling fresh and wet, as winter had disappeared a month ago.

  “We’re neighbors,” she said, wiping the mud from her gardening gloves before sticking them into the pocket of her apron, where she kept her unopened packages of seeds. “And he’s been good enough to come over and help me out once in a while.”

  “I heard,” Ray drawled, and Lesley bristled. She didn’t like the idea of being the subject of gossip in Larkspur. “I guess it makes sense. You need a man around here to help out with some of the chores, and Chase, well, we know that he’s connected to the place.” He reached into his breast pocket for a pack of cigarettes and slid a glance at her from under the wide brim of his cowboy hat.

  “I’m not so sure I need a man,” she said as he lit up and waved his match out with the help of a cool spring breeze that raced across the land.

  “Maybe that was a bad choice of words, but Chase would certainly be the likely candidate as he’s so familiar with your spread.”

  “Familiar?” she repeated, her eyes straying to a movement in the paddock near the barn. A sorrel foal with a crooked blaze and three white stockings was kicking up his heels, long, spindly legs flashing in the afternoon sunlight.

  “Yeah, bein’ as he lived here.”

  “Wait a minute.” Her attention was suddenly riveted on Ray. “He didn’t live here. I thought he ranched in Wyoming and Western Washington and—”

  “He did. But he was raised here.” Ray’s eyebrows drew together thoughtfully, and he took a long pull on his filter tip. “His folks owned this place.”

  “Zeke Fortune was his father,” she said, wondering why she’d never made the connection. She knew Chase was related somehow to Zeke, of course, but there were so many branches of the Fortune clan that she had never put two and two together and Aaron never spoke much about Zeke Fortune.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “He never mentioned it,” she said, stung. Why? Yes, Chase was a guarded man, a man who valued his own privacy, but they’d become so close, and this was not just any little topic he’d avoided.

  “Well, I can’t say as I blame him. A lot of bad memories here for him.” Ray pointed a finger toward the north field where the grass was growing long and green as it climbed up a ridge. “That spot up there is where the tractor that killed Chase’s twin brother overturned, pinning poor Chet beneath it.”

  Lesley’s stomach turned over. She thought she might be sick. “I had no idea.” Her heart twisted painfully.

  Shaking his head, Ray smoked for a few minutes. “That was the beginning of the end for Zeke’s family,” he thought aloud. “Once Chet died, the rest of the family fell apart at the seams.”

  Lesley felt as cold inside as all of winter. Only on a few occasions did Chase mention his family, and whenever he did, it was in broader terms that included his great-aunt and various cousins.

  “Well, I’d best be gettin’ along. I just wanted to see how you and that baby of yours were doin’.”

  “We’re okay,” she said automatically. “Angela’s down for her nap right now, but she’s growing like a weed.”

  “They all d
o.” Stomping out his cigarette with the toe of his worn boot, he eyed the small herd of horses grazing near the barn. “Let me know if you ever want to sell any of your stock. I just might be interested.” His gaze narrowed thoughtfully on her bay broodmare. “Matter of fact, I could use three or four.”

  “I’m not interested in selling,” she said, refusing to give in just yet. Sure she had bills and a mortgage that didn’t seem to quit, but her horses were the reason she stayed here. She planned to sell off a few, of course, maybe later in the summer, but not yet, not when she was feeling the pinch of desperation tug at her wallet.

  “Fair enough. When you are, just give me a jingle.”

  Lesley watched him climb into his old truck and leave, but she wasn’t thinking about the plume of blue exhaust that followed Ray’s pickup or his offer of buying some of her horses.

  Absently she pulled on her gloves and dropped dried corn into the freshly turned earth. She worked by rote, not having to concentrate, her thoughts instead turned toward Chase.

  They’d been lovers for three months, and though she felt lighthearted whenever she was around him, she’d suspected that something was bothering Chase. Something important. He hadn’t said a word, been more than attentive, but beneath his smile, he was guarded. Lesley had told herself she was being sensitive, that he was just working hard to turn his ranch around, that he seemed distant because of his worry about his bargain with Kate, but deep inside she felt it was something more, something deeper, something to do with her.

  She’d convinced herself she was imagining things, but now she wasn’t so sure. She looked around her ranch and saw it through new eyes. Aaron hadn’t bought the life insurance he’d promised, and Lesley had been making payments to the bank on the mortgage rather than keeping up with repairs. The farmhouse needed a fresh coat of paint and new gutters, the barn could be reroofed in the next couple of years, and each time she did a wash, she crossed her fingers that the old washer and dryer wouldn’t give out on her. Despite its problems, however, these weary acres were home. Her home. Angela’s home.