“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable?” he asked. “If you are, we can take things slowly—”
Suddenly, her lips were on his and her arms were around his neck. She claimed his lips in a kiss that seared his soul. She slid her hands into in his hair, pulling him closer. He responded by taking the champagne flute from her hand and setting it on the table. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight, as if he’d never let her go. Every inch of her body was pressed against his. He lost himself in the heated tenderness of that kiss.
Once, the mere thought of caring for someone that much scared him, but no more. He’d already passed the point of no return. There was no denying the truth. He’d fallen. And hard.
He was in love with Felicity.
He pulled back and placed his hands on either side of her cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered, looking into her eyes, savoring the depth of their connection.
“I love you, too.”
Those perfect words passed over her perfect lips and wrapped around his heart, touching him in places where he thought he would never be able to feel anything again. Places he once thought were dead, he now knew were very much alive.
Desire grew as he held her and tasted her. In response his own body swelled and hardened. He loved the feel of her curves, sexy and supple to his touch. When he dropped his hands to her hips and pulled her onto his lap, she arched against him fueling his desire.
“I want you,” she murmured breathlessly.
He wanted to show her exactly how much he ached for her. Instead of using words, he stood and picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.
The anticipation of their lovemaking sent a shudder wracking his whole body. He needed her naked so that he could bury himself inside of her. She wanted the same thing, because when he set her on the bed, she began to unbuckle the button on his pants, slid down the zipper and freed them of one of the barriers that stood between them. He shrugged off his shirt, unashamed of his nakedness.
Wanting to permanently imprint her on his senses, he deliberately slowed down, undoing each button of her blouse. Pushing it away, he unhooked the front clasp on her bra. As he freed her breasts, she lay back on the bed, and he lowered himself next to her. In turn, his mouth worshipped each one until she cried out in pleasure. Then, when he was sure she was ready, he stripped off her trousers and panties.
As they lay together—skin to skin, soul to soul—once again, he purposely slowed down, taking a moment to savor the way she looked and commit to memory the beauty of her body.
This was the Felicity he loved.
And then they were reaching for each other and touching everywhere, a tangle of arms and legs. He kissed her deeply—tongues thrusting, hands exploring, teeth nipping, bodies moving together in the most sensual pas de deux. Austin wasn’t cognizant of space or time, he was only aware of her—the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her and the realization that he could not bear to spend another day—or night—in this world without her.
His heart, body and soul belonged to her.
He needed to make her his.
“Now,” she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. And he buried himself deep inside her.
* * *
As they lay together, spent and glowing, Felicity snuggled deeper into the crook of Austin’s arm—a place where she fit so perfectly it felt as if it had been made for her. She turned her cheek and nuzzled his chest, breathing in the scent of him—that delicious smell of cedar, coffee and leather. She breathed in deeply and melted a little more with the heat of his body.
But he moved, propping himself up on his elbow. He smoothed an errant lock of hair off her forehead, kissed the skin he’d just uncovered.
“I could get used to this,” he said.
She smiled up at him. “I already have.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Then he held her so close she could hear his heart beat. For the first time in ages, she felt safe and things felt right. She knew she was exactly where she belonged. Together, they completed each other.
Together, they were whole.
Epilogue
Thanksgiving at Miles and Sarah’s was almost overwhelming, in the very best, most thrilling way. The whole family was there—all of Austin’s siblings along with their spouses and significant others.
Miles and Sarah had graciously welcomed Felicity’s mother and Maia to the festivities. Over the months, Felicity had grown quite fond of Miles and Sarah and Austin’s huge, boisterous family.
After Miles offered Felicity the advertising director position, he had made a special exception to the Fortune Investments’ no fraternizing policy, allowing Austin and Felicity to have the best of both worlds. Because of that, she was regularly included in the family’s infamous dinners. Sometimes those could get a little lively with all of the big Fortune opinions.
After all the years of growing up as an only child, with it just being Felicity and her mother, the Fortunes were the big, warm family she never knew she had always wanted.
This Thanksgiving Day also held another special meaning. Felicity and Austin had officially been together for six months. Six months and they were getting stronger every day. Finally, she had let go of the notion that love had an expiration date. Crushes and flights of fancy might expire, but true love knew no end.
Today, as the family sat around the big dining room table, the waitstaff that Sarah had hired effortlessly facilitated the holiday meal, including serving the delicious-looking desserts on display on the antique buffet.
The server had poured champagne to go with the pumpkin pie. It was a combination that Felicity and her mother had never enjoyed during their small celebrations—they usually paired coffee with pie—but she was constantly learning new things from this family.
The servers were still plating slices of pie when Austin stood and began gently pinging the side of his crystal champagne flute with a sterling silver knife.
“I am so happy we could all be together this holiday. As I look around the table, I realize how much we have to be thankful for. We are truly blessed. Our family is happy and healthy and we’re all together. That’s why I couldn’t think of a better time to do this.”
Felicity saw Austin exchange knowing glances with his father and then her mother.
“Six months ago today, I finally came to my senses and took a chance on confessing my love to Felicity. Ever since that day, I’ve never looked back. That was, without a doubt, the smartest move I’ve ever made in my life. Until today.”
Little pinpricks of dawning skittered up and down Felicity’s body. The subsequent events unfolded in a surreal sort of slow motion: Austin turned toward her; he took her hand; he lowered himself down on one knee; he reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small light blue jewelry box. Somehow, he managed to open it with one hand, revealing a stunning sparkler of an oval diamond.
“Felicity Schafer, you are the woman who finally made me believe in love. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”
The events may have happened in slow motion, but Austin’s words were crystal clear and so was her instantaneous response. “Yes!”
The room erupted into raucous applause. Miles Fortune raised his glass. “To Austin and Felicity. To family, old and new. Happy Thanksgiving and many, many years of love and happiness.”
* * *
Look for A Fortune’s Texas Reunion
by New York Times bestselling author Allison Leigh
the next book in The Fortunes of Texas:
The Lost Fortunes.
On sale June 2019, wherever
Harlequin books and ebooks are sold.
And catch up with the previous books in
The Fortunes Of Texas:
The Lost Fortunes
Guarding His Fortune
by USA TODAY best
selling author
Stella Bagwell
Texan Seeks Fortune
by USA TODAY bestselling author
Marie Ferrarella
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Switched at Birth by Christine Rimmer.
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Switched at Birth
by Christine Rimmer
Prologue
“Happy birthday to me,” Madison Delaney muttered glumly to her enormous and beautiful bedroom in which she slept alone. It was the second of March and she was officially twenty-seven years old. “Big whoop.”
Still lazing in bed at ten in the morning, Madison finished the delicious almond essence latte whipped up for her by her excellent housekeeper, Ada. She set the coffee tray on the bed table and considered getting dressed.
But seriously, why rush? She had nothing to get dressed for. This year, she was spending her birthday at home—if you could call her huge, gorgeously decorated but essentially empty hilltop mansion in Bel Air a home. Really, she was almost never here. But due to a perfect storm of scheduling conflicts, ongoing script changes and a bunch of big-time special effects set pieces that required “further development,” Madison found herself with time off.
She didn’t like it. Working, after all, was what she did. Time off made her feel all prickly inside her own skin, like there was something she should be doing but she couldn’t quite remember what.
Maybe she ought to call a couple of friends and go out this evening. But then again, there was no one she wanted to hang with all that much. She got along with everyone, but that didn’t mean she felt close to them. And too often when she went out for a good time, it ended up with her surrounded by photographers barking rude questions at her and her security team keeping them at bay. What fun was that?
“Goals,” she grumbled, and climbed out of bed to rummage through the drawers of the central-island dresser in her embarrassingly large walk-in closet full of fabulous clothes and designer shoes.
She didn’t have to rummage long. Her notebook was right where she’d put it a year ago today, in the back of a lingerie drawer beneath a blue silk La Perla corset she’d yet to wear. The pink spiral-bound notebook had glittery butterflies on the front. Stuck in the binding coil was a purple pen. The pen, which produced glittery metallic ink, was relatively new.
The notebook? A little tattered around the edges, with a lot of the glitter worn off the butterflies. Her mom had presented it to her the day she turned six.
Today, as she had every birthday since then, she took the notebook and the pen and returned to the bed. Sitting cross-legged on top of the covers, she pulled the pen from the coil and opened the notebook to the next empty page. Her objective: formulate three main goals to accomplish during her twenty-seventh year.
Frankly, she had zip on the goals front this year and she fully expected to squander a large amount of time staring at a blank page and trying not to think how uninspired she felt about life and work and just about everything else lately.
But then the weirdest thing happened.
Her pen seemed drawn to the page of its own accord and her three goals materialized as if by magic:
Lose virginity.
Retire from acting.
Get a life.
Whoa. Who knew? Apparently, this was a banner year. Up until this moment, she’d had no clue.
As she sat frowning at her totally unexpected annual objectives, she heard a faint sound downstairs.
Was the doorbell ringing?
Not that it mattered. Now and then an especially enthusiastic fan got past the front gate and made it to the door. Someone would answer, give the fan something with Madison’s autograph on it and call security to escort the trespasser back outside the gate.
Madison recommenced staring at her new, glittery goals and wondering why she wasn’t more upset at the very thought of turning her back on her mega-successful career. After all, it was a career she’d pursued with single-minded purpose since her first set of goals written down slowly and laboriously with her mom’s help in this very notebook on the day she turned six.
As for getting a life and dispensing with her V-card? Both of those made perfect sense. She would be thirty in no time at all. She needed a life and a sex life. She needed them yesterday, maybe sooner.
At the sound of a gentle tap on the outer door to the upstairs hallway, Madison glanced up. “Come on in!”
Ada, in a calf-length linen dress, her graying brown hair piled in a messy bun, bustled in through the sitting area. She marched to the bedside table and picked up the coffee tray. “You need to eat.”
“I will.” Madison chewed thoughtfully on her purple pen. “Soon. Did the doorbell ring?”
“Yes. Jonas Bravo is here.” Ada wore a bemused sort of frown.
Madison frowned, too. “Did you say Jonas Bravo?”
“That’s right.”
Madison had never met the man. But she did know of him. Everyone knew about Jonas Bravo. His family was Los Angeles royalty. He had billions—the paps even called him the Bravo Billionaire. And he was her neighbor, more or less. He lived with his beautiful wife and their children in an even bigger house than Madison’s, also in Bel Air, a world-famous house called Angel’s Crest. Jonas Bravo was not in the movie business, but he and his billions were involved in just about every other industry in LA. And he sometimes invested in films.
“Sorry.” Ada shrugged. “I don’t know what got into me. I’ve been reading the stories about him since I was old enough to get a copy of the National Enquirer and I was so surprised to see him on the security monitor when he buzzed the front gate that I told Sergei to let him in.” Sergei was on Madison’s security team. “Then, when he rang the doorbell, I just stepped back and ushered him inside. He asked to speak to with you, so I put him in the sitting room. I really do apologize, Mad. It was not my call. But I mean, he is the Jonas Bravo.”
“No. It’s okay, really.”
“He looks just like his pictures.”
“It’s fine,” said Madison. “I hear you. You did the right thing.” Madison glanced down at her rumpled pink sleep shirt and gray sleep shorts. “I need to change.” She dropped her butterfly notebook and jumped from the bed. “Just let me put on a decent pair of jeans and a top that doesn’t look like I slept in it. Go ahead and tell him I’ll be right down.”
*
* *
Ten minutes later, Madison was shaking hands with the legendary Bravo Billionaire. He looked good, she thought, tall and broad-shouldered, with striking dark blue eyes and thick graying hair.
Once they’d said hello, he wished her a happy birthday. She thanked him, not finding it especially strange that he knew. The date of her birth was public knowledge, after all.
After the birthday wishes, the first words out of his mouth were, “Let me congratulate you on the protectiveness of your staff.”
She backed off a step. “You’ve been trying to reach me?”
“This is my first attempt. But rumor has it you’re a very hard woman to get in touch with. I confess, I hoped the element of surprise would work in my favor, that someone might just let me in.”
“And someone did—coffee or something? Ada makes an amazing latte.” When he shook his head, she cut to the chase. “What can I do for you, Jonas?”
“I was recently contacted by an elderly gentleman named Percy Valentine.” Jonas said the name slowly and then fell silent, apparently waiting for her reaction. When she gave him none, he asked, “You’ve never heard of Percy Valentine?”
“No, I haven’t.”
Jonas launched into a story about how this Valentine guy was related to a branch of the Bravo family in a small coastal town in Oregon called Valentine Bay. “Percy’s been trying to get in touch with you since last summer. He tells me he’s spoken to your personal assistant, your manager, your housekeeper and also someone at your agency, but he’s yet to get any of them to put him through to you.”
“I’m sorry,” said Madison, and she was—a little. Really, though, a lot of people tried to get through to her: journalists, fans, screenwriters, would-be producers with projects to pitch her, stalkers and other crazies, too. Her people protected her. If this Valentine person hadn’t been able to get in contact, there was probably a very good reason her team had kept him away. “I work a lot and I’ve given orders that only high-priority calls get through.”
A Fortunate Arrangement Page 17